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pathologicalreid · 4 months ago

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home run | s.r.

in which Spencer and jareau!reader finally get the opportunity to take the next step in their relationship

margotober masterlist

who? spencer reid x jareau!reader category: smut (18+ mdni) content warnings: sex bro idk. the sweatshirt. smut with a lot of plot, glasses!spencer, dostoyevsky, paulo coelho, ur crazy if you think i proofread this, flirrrrrrting, protected p in v sex, fingering, heavy petting, post coital dysphoria (why can't i let them simply have a nice time) word count: 4.01k a/n: next on my quest to give fanfic readers realistic sex to read, i give you this! as always, tell me how u feel, my inbox is always open.

“Will you unzip me?” You asked softly, pulling your hair out of the way and turning your back to Spencer, who paused his own disrobing to undo the zipper of your dress.

It’d been a long day, the light hours spent in the BAU, and the evening spent at Rossi’s, who wanted to get at least one more cookout in before the weather turned. You’d finally reached the end of your day, and for the first time, you were spending it with Spencer.

Facing away from him still, you let the fabric drop to the floor, taking your sweatshirt from your go bag and tugging it over your head. Spencer hummed from behind you, “I can’t believe you still wear that.”

A small smile formed on your face as you turned around. “It’s comfortable,” you justified, the old FBI Academy sweatshirt had previously lived in Spencer’s apartment, but you’d claimed it for yourself nearly two years ago. It had the perfect amount of wear, making it one of your favorites—among other reasons.

You tried not to let your eyes linger while Spencer changed, instead focusing on details in his room that you’d never seen before and making note of what books he kept on his nightstand. “It’s old,” Spencer responds plainly, putting on an old MIT t-shirt and reaching out for you, grabbing your waist and pulling you close.

Before being with Spencer, you wouldn’t have considered yourself the kind of person to take things slowly, but with him, that was the only option you were willing to consider. You were so scared of things being ruined with him that you only made moves when you knew you were absolutely ready. Maybe that was why it took you nearly two years before the two of you started dating, but he was willing to walk the tightrope with you.

You walked around the bed, sitting up on the mattress and watching him go into the bathroom, “So, what do you want to do tonight?” He asked from the bathroom, coming back out with his glasses on and leaning against the doorframe.

Humming, you look over at him, “Didn’t think that far ahead?” A teasing lilt carried through your question, cocking your head as he made his way over to you. He’d asked you on Monday if you’d like to spend Friday night at his place, and he had seemed surprised when you accepted his offer.

“I have a few ideas, but I wanted to see if there was something specific you had in mind. Since you’ve already interrupted your usual schedule to stay here, I wanted to give you a choice,” he rambled. He always rambled when he was nervous.

You raised your eyebrows curiously, “Spence?”

With him standing in front of you, you studied his eyes. His contacts had a blue tint to them, so seeing him in his glasses was really your only opportunity to see his eyes as they truly appeared. “Yeah, baby?”

Your heart fluttered at the nickname, “We don’t have to do anything special. What would you be doing if I weren’t here?”

“Reading,” he told you unabashedly.

Honestly, you should’ve guessed that. “Okay, then we can read. Do you have a book I can borrow?”

Spencer nodded, “You’re welcome to anything, but are you sure? We could find a movie to watch instead.”

“We don’t have to do anything special just because it’s our first night together, and besides, reading side by side sounds nice,” you told him, waving off his concerns about entertainment and walking into the living room, scanning over his extensive collection. Plucking one off the shelves, you return to Spencer, watching him pull the covers down on the bed, preparing both yours and his side.

You set your book on the nightstand and climbed up on the mattress, his box spring causing it to be almost precariously high. “The Alchemist?” He questioned, reading the title of the book that you had selected.

Tracing the title with your fingertip, you shrugged, “I’ve never read it. Should I pick a different book?”

He shook his head in response, “No, and I don’t want to influence your opinion with mine.”

“Well, what are you reading?” You peered over to look at the book in his hands, reading the cover, “How many times have you read that book?” Since you started dating four months ago, he’d read Crime and Punishment at least three times.

Flipping the book back open, Spencer went back to the pages, “I’ve never read this version before, the editor decided to publish his thoughts along with the translated text.”

You raised your eyebrows curiously, “And what are your thoughts on that?”

“I think his translation of the original Russian is perfectly adequate, but his comments read like a high schooler who was forced to read the book for a class,” he explained, his hand absentmindedly resting on your bare thigh once you settled into the bed.

Humming, you opened your book, reading the foreword and trying to ignore Spencer’s hand placement. There was no reason to lose your mind over a little thigh touching.

Once you made it to the beginning of the actual story, you became vaguely aware of Spencer’s thumb rubbing small circles on the inside of your thigh, leading to you closing the book and setting it back on the bookshelf. Taking a deep breath, you rolled onto your side, leaving Spencer to move his hand from your skin, and you rested your head on his shoulder.

You looked up at him, watching his lips move as he read the words on the page, you felt very lucky to have this part of Spencer. The Spencer who let his glasses slide to the very bottom of his nose and had an affinity for reruns of cartoons from the eighties. “Are you alright?” He whispered once he finished his chapter, reaching an arm up to ruffle your hair affectionately.

“Mhm,” you murmured, “Don’t feel like reading.”

Gently, Spencer craned his head to drop a featherlight kiss to the tip of your nose, eliciting a small smile from you. “Let me know if you need anything,” he said softly.

As odd as it seemed, you liked watching him read, at the very least, it was impressive to watch. You kept your eyes on him, watching how intently he focused on the book despite having read it several times before.

He looked back down at you, catching you staring, “Can I kiss you?”

The question took you by surprise, but you nodded in response, looking at him as he ducked his head down and pecked your lips. He pushed his glasses up on his nose, putting his free hand in front of his mouth as he went back to reading.

In his defense, his resolve lasted for one more chapter, turning the page before snapping the book shut and resting it on his nightstand. Spencer turned his head to yours again, “Hey.”

“Hi,” you responded, unsure about where he was headed with this. Opening your mouth to ask him a question only to be met with his lips on yours, he took his time now, resting a hand on the side of your neck, the pad of his thumb at the hinge of your jaw as he held you close.

Tentatively, he swiped his tongue along your bottom lip, and that single motion drew a small moan from the back of your throat, causing you to pull away from Spencer.

Your eyes were wide in surprise, “I’m so sorry. I don’t know where that came from.”

Spencer shook his head, pulling at your waist, “C’mere,” he said, encouraging you to straddle him, your knees on either side of his hips, “Is this okay?”

“Yeah,” you breathed, leaning forward and resting your hands on his chest, you pressed a soft kiss to his lips. “This is okay,” you whispered against his lips.

It wasn’t like the two of you hadn’t made out before, it was usually just on the couch, or in Spencer’s reading chair, or one time when you were the only two on the jet. This—making out in his bed—it felt different somehow.

Coming back up for air, you looked up at Spencer, a giggle escaping your throat as you tried to meet his eyes. “Oops,” you said, his glasses had fogged up while you were kissing, so you leaned back while he took them off, resting them on his nightstand.

Spencer rested his hands on your hips, his thumbs gently massaging over your hip bones as you studied his expression, “Honey,” he said, suddenly serious, “I want you to know that I didn’t invite you to spend the night with this in mine.”

He was drawing the same conclusions as you, but still, you looked at him doubtfully, “Do you mean to tell me that the prospect of sex didn’t even cross your mind when it came to inviting me to spend the night?”

A soft pink bloomed across his cheeks, you found yourself wanting to kiss them, “Okay, maybe it occurred to me that we might find ourselves in this position.”

You straightened up slightly, “So, I trust you have a condom.”

Nodding, Spencer reached a hand up and smoothed your hair back with the kind of tenderness that made you want to cry. “I do, but we don’t have to have sex tonight, okay?”

“But I want to,” you responded, maybe a tad too quickly. Your face warms, “I mean… I’d like to. If you want to.” With an air of finality, you leaned forward and pressed your lips to his, one of your hands found a home in his hair while the other rested on his collarbone.

As if on cue, the phone started to ring. An incessant blare designed to wake you up in case you were being called in in the middle of the night. Spencer chuckled as you dramatically dragged yourself off of his lap and dug through your bag for your phone.

If it were Penelope or Hotch, you’d answer without a second thought, but the caller ID showed your sister on the other line. You declined the call, texting her an excuse before leaving your phone on the nightstand.

Spencer dragged his fingertips down your arm, “Who was it?”

“JJ,” you told him leaning back over his torso and pressing a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth, “I’ll call her back later,” you continued, kissing the other corner of his mouth.

He hummed in response, settling his hands on your waist, “Tomorrow?” He proposed, gently guiding your back to the bed.

Nodding, you looked up at him, “Tomorrow,” you confirmed, sighing contently as your legs fell open, giving him the room he needed to rest his body between them. You’d never felt so at ease in bed with someone, no one had ever touched you so carefully before.

“Good,” he whispered against your lips, gently parting them with his own as you looped your arms over his shoulders, “Hold on,” he said, pulling back and climbing off of the bed.

Your eyes followed him intently as he stopped in front of his go bag, unzipping the side pouch and pulling out a familiar-looking box. “You’ve been keeping condoms in your go bag?” Your question is succeeded by a fit of giggles, any nervousness disappearing at the realization that Spencer’s been carrying contraception with him all day.

Rolling his eyes, Spencer lobbed the box at you, but you were still laughing too hard to be bothered by the lightweight box hitting your arm. “Excuse me for wanting to be prepared,” he teased back, climbing up on the bed and finding a spot right next to you.

“No, you’re right,” you said, continuing to giggle despite your best attempts to stop. “Okay, I’m sorry, let me put on my serious face,” you pressed your lips together in a thin line, holding them together with your teeth as you tried to stop any giggles from escaping. “You would make a great boy scout,” you told him, failing to keep a straight face.

Sighing, Spencer kissed your smiling lips, giving you a soft peck between every word he said.

“You’re.”

Kiss.

“So.”

Kiss.

“Cute.”

By the final kiss, you’re ready to ascend into the heavens. Knowing you can die happy because you’ve known what it’s like to love him. You’re not even worried about the fact that he chose to call you cute as opposed to hot or sexy. Spencer’s never let you consider the idea of being someone other than who you are.

“I love you,” you whispered, looking at him as he positioned himself between your legs again, taking your lower lip between your teeth because this time you could feel his length. Even through three layers of fabric, his hardness pressed against your core in a way that made your head spin.

Spencer hummed, “I love you too.” His tone was careful as his hands slipped up your sweatshirt, a totem to show where the two of you started and where you are now. His fingers wandered over your skin, an exploration of your body as the hem of the sweatshirt started riding up your waist, “your heart is racing.”

You sat up, trying to encourage him to take your sweater off, “You have that effect on me.” You took a deep breath as he followed your cue and pulled your sweatshirt over your head, once he tossed it to the hamper, you pushed at his t-shirt, whipping it off his body without a care in the world.

He was just looking at you, just studying you in the way someone would look at a piece of art. Feeling encouraged, you reached back to unclasp your bra, letting the fabric fall off of your chest before dropping it just off the side of the bed. “Pretty,” he breathed, leaning forward to kiss you again, his lips making their way along your jawline, along the column of your throat, and just below your collarbones. “Pretty, pretty girl,” he murmured, rendered uncharacteristically at a loss for words at the sight of you topless.

You gasped as his lips attached themselves to your chest, sucking at the soft skin and leaving little love bites behind. He moved his hand to gain better balance, leaving one at the side of your head, “Ow, Spence,” you yelped.

Spencer’s head snapped up, “Are you okay?” He asked, more fear in his voice than was strictly necessary for the issue.

“Your hand is on my hair,” you said, moving your hair behind your head when he instantly moved his hand.

He dropped a kiss to your forehead, oddly domestic for the state of undress you were in, “I’m sorry, honey.”

You shook your head, “It’s okay, c’mere,” you whispered, placing your hand on the back of his head and guiding his lips to yours. Slowly, you extend your free arm between your bodies, slipping your hand between the elastic of his briefs and his stomach, wrapping your hand around his shaft.

He moaned into your mouth at the contact, his lips faltering against yours as you ran your thumb over the tip, gathered his precum on your finger, and withdrew your hand, bringing your hand up to your separated mouths and sucking the liquid off of your thumb. “You’re going to be the death of me,” he groaned, reattaching his lips to your neck, bringing his lips further down your chest until he took your nipple in his mouth, nipping at it gently with his teeth while his fingers wandered up to play with your other breast, massaging the flesh.

“Oh,” you breathed, looking up at the ceiling fan and trying to stop your hips from bucking up as his mouth separated from your breast with a wet pop, his hand skimming down your torso and stopping just above the hem of your underwear, looking to you for permission before he exposed your core.

Slowly, he hooked his fingers in the sides of your panties and dragged them down your legs, leaving them on the mattress for you to find easily as he pushed your knees apart. His hand made its way to your pussy, fingers dragging lazily up and down your slit, “Is this okay?”

Nodding, “Yeah,” you answered, bracing yourself for the intrusion of his fingers, but you were surprised when it didn’t come yet. Instead, his index finger pressed gently against your clit, softly rubbing at the bundle of nerves, trying to prepare you. A soft whine escaped your lips at the sight, “Will you kiss me?” You asked, your eyes wide and pleading with him.

Obliging your wishes, he left his hand in its place while he pressed his lips against yours, you slid your tongue into his mouth, running the tip of it along his bottom lip. You moaned into his mouth as he played with your clit, need growing in your core as his fingers moved.

“Ah,” you gasped against his mouth when he slipped a finger into your hole, separating your lips while you tipped your head back against the pillows. “Oh, wow,” you breathed at the feeling of him knuckle-deep in you, his finger remaining still while you adjusted to the intrusion.

Spencer hummed, bringing his head back down and resting it on your tummy while he curled his fingers in your cunt. You brought your hands down to rest on his head, tugging at his hair while he started to thrust his finger in and out of you, wet squelching sounds emanating from your core as he did.

A moan was ripped from your throat when he added another finger to the mix, stretching your pussy even further while you felt your walls contract around his hand. “Spence,” you breathed, moaning again at the sensations that were coursing through your body, “Spence, baby.”

He tore his eyes away, looking up at you while his hand slowed slightly—just in case, “What do you need, honey?”

Honey. The sweet pet name plucked at your heartstrings as you propped yourself up on your elbows, “I’m— Can we...?” You started, not sure how to proposition him. Can we have sex? Seemed like too little too late. Will you make love to me? Made you want to throw up in your mouth a little bit. “Will you fuck me?” Was what you settled on, albeit a bit crude, but it was your best option at the time.

He withdrew his fingers from your cunt, eliciting a whimper from you at the emptiness, he reached over for the box of condoms that he had previously thrown at you, handing the box to you so he could shed his boxer briefs.

Staring at the way his cock stood at attention, you considered wrapping your mouth around him, just for a moment, but Spencer didn’t seem interested in anything other than doing what you’d asked of him. Instead, you reached out your hand and wrapped your fingers around the base. He was already plenty hard, but you felt the need to reciprocate pleasure, which is why you were surprised when he moved your hand before you could even start.

“It’s okay,” he reassured you, and you nodded a response, telling yourself you’d remember to return the favor in the future. Maybe in the morning.

Handing him a lavender packet, you watched as he carefully tore the package open, pinching the tip and rolling the condom over himself. “Is this good?” You asked, lying on your back as you watched him settle back between your legs, your breath hitched as his cock lined up with your entrance.

Spencer nodded, “You’re perfect. I’ll go slow, okay?” He rubbed at your thigh comfortingly, waiting for you to give him another okay before he started pushing into you. Between your wetness and the added lubrication of the condom, he slid in with little resistance, but he took it slowly, just like he had promised.

He watched you the whole time with the knowledge that you hadn’t had sex in years, the last thing he’d want to do was cause you any pain.

Once he was fully sheathed in you, you buried your face in his neck, pressing little kisses to his soft skin as you focused on anything other than the pressure in your core.

“I’m okay,” you whispered, he didn’t even have to ask you for the reassurance. “I’m— fuck,” you cried out, unable to help the way your walls tightened around his cock. “You can move,” you told him, your voice muffled against his neck.

He inhaled sharply as he pulled his hips from yours before slowly pressing them back together, “I love you.”

You nodded, “I love you too,” you murmured, muffling your moans in his neck as a courtesy to his neighbors, unable to control them as his tentative thrusts turned into a steady rhythm. Carefully thrusting into you while he moved one of his hands up, intertwining your fingers with his at the side of your head—minding his hand placement.

Hooking your ankles together behind his back, you squeezed his hand at the same time as your cunt clenched around his length. He continued fucking into you, pushing your legs open even further until he hit a spot inside of you that made you see stars.

“Spence,” you cried out, trying to warn him about your impending orgasm before it washed over you. Your walls uncontrollably clenched around him as you fully muffled yourself against him, soft squeaks escaping your mouth as he kept going, the pulsating of your pussy driving him even closer to his own orgasm.

His hips stuttered in their movements as you pulled your face from his neck, breathing the cool air as Spencer spilled his cum into the condom. His head drooped, pressing soft kisses to your collarbone as the both of you caught your breath. “I’m gonna pull out,” he warned you, carefully slipping his softened cock from your hole.

A slight panic came over you as you felt tears well up in your eyes faster than you could process them, hiccupping for air as they fell down into your hairline.

That got Spencer’s attention, lifting himself and looking at you, “Hey,” his voice was so soft, “What’s wrong? Are you hurt?”

Bordering on babbling, you shook your head, “No, I’m fine,” you cried, more tears falling from your face. “I don’t even know why ‘m crying,” you told him, resting a hand on your chest.

“Shh, hey,” Spencer cooed, “You’re okay, I’ve got you.” Gingerly, he laid down on his back and pulled you into him, letting you rest your head on his chest as he smoothed your hair back comfortingly. “There are just a lot of emotions going through you right now, and that’s okay,” he whispered. “You’re safe with me.”

You nodded slowly, “I’m sorry,” you whimpered, having ruined a perfect first time by bursting into tears immediately after.

Spencer pressed a tentative kiss to your hairline, “It’s okay, there’s no need to be sorry. It’s completely normal,” he murmured, one hand in your hair and the other rubbing circles on your back. “You’re alright. Hey, it’s called post-coital dysphoria, and it happens to about forty-six percent of people,” he told you.

Despite yourself, you gave a breathy laugh, “I feel like you’re making that up so I’ll feel better.” You sniffled, wiping at your eyes with your fingers.

“It’s a real thing, I promise,” he reassured you, continuing to comfort you until tears stopped falling. “Hey, what do you say we get cleaned up and we can watch something in bed.”

You hummed in response, “You don’t like screens in your room, you say it messes with your REM sleep.”

“It does mess with your REM sleep, but I’d be willing to make an exception for you tonight,” he said, smiling softly when you lifted your head from his chest. “Come on, honey. I’ve got you.”

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httpjungkookcom · 1 year ago

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CYBER BOY | JJK (m)

Pairing | Jungkook x Reader

Word Count | 12K, not bad!

Genre | Android! Jungkook x Grad Student! Reader, Fluff, Smut

Summary | Jimin, as much as you love him, is a major pain in your ass. After dragging you to his store against your will (literally) you end up with; the newly manufactured, eerily human Jungkook android model. He's so human, you begin to have questions.

Index | A lot of fluff, reader is terrified, Jungkook is a sweetheart, Jungkook is absolutely whipped, Jungkook is good at anything and everything you could think of, including pleasing you ;), soft smut, Jungkook just wants you to feel good

A/N | You don't really need to know the lore of Detroit Become Human, it's just briefly mentioned in the story. Cyber Life is basically a manufacturer of robots/androids, that's really all the background you need for the story. Enjoy! <3

Jimin’s very busy today talking your ear off. Well, more than normal you should say. Two weeks ago he scored this huge paid internship with CyberLife, a company that currently holds a monopoly over all other tech companies with its superior android manufacturing, innovative technology, and competitive prices that “Are to sure surpass your expectations.” He was ecstatic, going on about how maybe they’ll gift him an android as an intern present (spoiler alert, they did not.) Regardless, they pay him very well for an internship and he loves their technology so he’s still happy. Now, it’s something about a new android he’s droning on about.

“No, I don’t think you understand Y/n.” Jimin clarifies, walking alongside you on the campus pathway. “One in the entire world, only one is being made.”

“I understand plenty, Jim.” You genuinely laugh, side-eyeing him as he questions your intelligence. “I think I understood the first time you said there’s only one, and the second time, and the third, and now the hundredth.”

“And you don’t even want to see him?! I don’t understand!!” Jimin almost yells, wide eyes as he turns to you to emphasize his point.

Ever since Jimin scored the internship, you constantly refuse to ever step foot in the company. Mostly because you know Jimin would try to market to you, and he’s got a reputation for never getting told no. That’s the excuse you always gave, telling him off every time he’d talk about the “low low price of 4,999 dollars!” Secondly, the androids freak you out a bit. They’re hyper-realistic, all the way down to every single man-made eyelash on their face. You’re sure if you look close enough, you could probably see fake pores.

However, you don’t hate artificial intelligence at all, nor are you a part of the momentum-gaining group of “androids are stealing our jobs, and ruining society!” You suppose for you, it’s just how realistic they look, act, speak, and walk. Everything about them is human-like. Maybe if they had a Siri-sounding voice, or walked stiff, maybe you’d get behind the idea of owning one.

“You would try and get me to buy it, why are you saying him? You never do that Jimin?” You ask, laughing softly. “What, you got a crush on him?” You raise your brows, elbowing him with your hands remaining in your pockets, cold air waiting for the opportunity to bite at your skin.

Jimin scoffs in defense, pretending you offended him as he shoves you away. “We were told to market it as him because he’s so realistic most people apparently won’t know the difference.”

“…And you want me to buy that thing!?! An android that is so human you can’t even tell?!” You ask, feet stopping in their tracks. “Jimin, you’re out of your mind.” You roll your eyes, beginning to turn around, and instead, make your way to your apartment complex.

“Nooo, at least walk me to the store like always. This isn’t fair!” Jimin complains like a child, stomping his feet softly in the thin layer of snow that’s beginning to form on the sidewalk. “I just wanted to tell you because I think it’s interesting, I promise I won’t market him to you.”

“You’re a liar.” You turn back, unable to fight back the smile as you walk up to him. “Fine, let’s get going before it starts snowing harder. I’d hate for you to be covered in it and you ruin all your bots with the liquid.” Sticking out your tongue, Jimin mimics you as he does it back.

“It wouldn’t ruin them, c'mon Y/n. They’re waterproof.”

“Jimin.”

“Right, sorry sorry.”

Jimin stops talking about androids for the rest of the walk, instead beginning his daily oversharing session, as he vents about this mystery boy “Taehyung” he’s been seeing. Jimin claims he’s always on campus, everywhere, but you have yet to see him. Secretly, you’re starting to believe Jimin is making parts of him up. He wraps up the rant as you approach the door, “Anyways, he seems genuinely sweet. I think I’ll give it a chance.”

“Yeah, I also think he seems nice. Maybe it’ll be worth it.” You shrug, beginning to pull your arm away from Jimin’s where they’re interlinked.

“Just like…you should give our androids a chance.” You're dragged into the store before you can even get another word in, Jimin locking down extra hard on your arm in case you fight it. As the doors close behind the both of you, you finally give in. “That big box over there, that’s our new one-of-a-kind boy.” Jimin beams, walking you over to it. There’s only the logo of cyber life on the front, no model codes, details, or specifications anywhere to be seen.

“So, what’s he look like?” You ask, finally able to pry your arm away from Jimin’s chokehold.

“I don’t know.”

“What do you mean you don’t know??”

“Exactly what I mean, I don’t know.” Jimin spits jokingly, a smile pulling at the corner of his lips. “CyberLife is keeping all the details under wraps, I suppose whoever gets him is the first to find out. Personally, I think it’s to see if people recognize it as an android if the owner takes him out into public.” The information feels like whiplash, as does the mixing of it, him, and owner.

“That is the freakiest thing I’ve ever heard.” You laugh. “So, how much is he going for?” You shrug as Jimin smirks at you, eventually punching his arm.

“What, you want him?” He earns himself another punch. “He’s not.”

“Jimin, what the fuck? Is this an empty box???” You're now beginning to think Jimin is fucking with you. Maybe a prank to see how gullible you are to the information he tells you, never really questioning his nerdy rants. “No characteristics, no price, let me guess, no name next huh?”

“Ding ding ding.” Jimin chuckles. “The model doesn’t have a name. He introduces himself to his owner one-on-one.”

“I’m leaving.”

“Wait wait wait, don’t you want to know how you can get him if he’s not for sale?” He coaxes you back to the box laughing the entire time as he speaks. Once again grabbing you so you don’t have a chance to run away, you’re left trapped. If the androids surrounding you in the store are already this realistic, you’re a bit afraid to see what’s in the box honestly. “Aren’t you at least a bit curious, an android not up for sale hm?”

“With the information you just gave me, it’s an empty box up for sale,” You complain, ready to go home and cozy up on the couch with this weather. It’s cold, wet, and you’re already slipping into your winter break laziness.

“It's a raffle.”

“Oh great.”

“I’ll enter you into it.” Jimin beams, running over to a computer behind the cashier counter. You groan loudly, beginning to follow him to stop his antics. “Uhm ma’am, employees only beyond this point.” Jimin changes his tone to his customer service voice, holding a hand in front of your face. “I’ll be with you in one moment.”

“Jimin, this isn’t funny. I’m going to kick your ass,” You complain, glancing over your shoulder to the large box behind you as if he’d pop out at any moment. “I don’t even want the opportunity to own him, people would probably kill others over him.”

“One moment, please ma’am,” He speaks, breaking up into laughter throughout his sentence. You’re helpless as you stand at the counter, watching in disbelief as he types in all of your information faster than the speed of light.

“I wish we never sat next to each other in Introduction to Computer Science.” You laugh, watching him click submit before making his way back to where you stand by the box.

“Raffle results come out tomorrow. That’s why I had to drag you here.” Jimin beams, “If you don’t want him, you can always give him to me.”

Faking a gag, you begin your way out of the store. “I'm going home, Jimin. I'm gonna be spending my winter break alone, android-less, binge-watching movies, so feel free to stop by.” You smile, waving to him from the door. Jimin inserts some snarky remark that you don’t really catch, rolling your eyes at him through the window regardless.

Doing exactly as you promised yourself, you all but melt into the soft bed you’ve been in a long-distance relationship with the entire semester. Now, you’re able to catch up with spring classes being an entire month away. You spend the rest of your afternoon double-checking that all of your assignments are in before allowing yourself to sleep. The next day, you begin your marathons, finally catching up on all the shows you said you’d watch. With a content sigh, you begin your second binge-watching marathon of the break. It’s cut short just one episode in, a small knock catching your attention. Following it, it’s your front door.

“Hi, Jimin, do you wanna-“ It’s not Jimin standing on the other side of the door, not at all. There are two tall men, with a big box placed in the middle of either one of them. “Oh, sorry. I was expecting someone else. How can I help you guys?”

“Is this the residence of Y/n L/n?” One asks, making your throat run dry as you glance at the box behind them. “If you could just sign off on your delivery, free of charge provided by the company.” Glancing down at the paper presented, CyberLife. Shaky hands sign a sloppy signature, the movers quickly move in and place the box in the middle of the walkway before rushing off. Closing the door behind you, you’re at a loss.

Wouldn’t they call you if you won? Or an email? Or mail? Who in their right mind just comes and delivers such an expensive and precious item without some sort of confirmation beforehand??? Your normally cozy and comfortable apartment suddenly feels too small with the box in it, another human-like thing occupying the space.

“Jimin?!” This has to be a prank, Jimin has to be laughing his ass off in this stupid box. With caution, you press an ear against the metal and try to hear laughing, snorting, breathing, anything. The box is white and blue, only confirming the high possibility of an android being inside. “Jimin, if you're in this box, I’m going to kill you for real this time.” You give a fair warning, pressing and pulling hard on the side handle. It opens smoothly, the door not even creaking once as you pull it open.

You jump hard as you peek into it, not Jimin. Definitely not Jimin. Hiding behind the door, you peek once more into the inside to take in the sight. He’s…pretty? Somehow his android skin is activated without even being turned on yet, hair styled with his bangs pushed back from his forehead. His nose is slightly large, but it fits his face perfectly. There’s a small mole underneath his lower lip that you think is an interesting addition to an android model.

With a hard beating heart that feels as though it’ll burst through your rib cage, you abandon your protection. There’s an owner's manual placed neatly in front of his body that you pick up with shaky hands. Activate your android by pressing on its led sensor for 10 seconds. It’s the longest 10 seconds of your life, heart hammering against your bones.

His eyes slowly peel open, blinking a couple of times as he takes in his surroundings. Human, scarily human. He’s careful of your reaction as he steps out of his box to not scare you too badly, pushing the door closed behind him to create more room in the small apartment. “Hello, I’m Jungkook.”

There it is.

You don’t answer, prompting him to continue introducing himself. “I’m a one-of-a-kind android that was beneficial for promotional purposes, but mainly I'm built to be the best companion possible for my owner. I possess old and new features that are designed to make the everyday life of my companion significantly better.”

“Jungkook?” You mumble, his name feels way too human. “What’s your full name?”

“Jeon Jungkook, from Busan, South Korea.” You could throw up everywhere, the realistic bot smiling softly as he stands in front of you.

“Yeah, yeah sorry. I’m Y/n. …you are an android, right? Do you mind if I, uh?” You gesture to his chest. Your brain is struggling to believe he’s an android and not some sort of joke sent to you. Jungkook happily obliges, removing his synthetic skin and popping open his chest panel. Stepping a bit closer, you can definitely confirm that they are CyberLife organs and blue blood. “Okay, sorry I’m just having trouble adjusting, that’s all,” You mumble, closing his panel for him.

“There is usually an adjustment period for new owners. Have you had another android in the past?” Jungkook asks, glancing around your apartment for any sign of one. He takes a couple of steps away from the box, feet making no noise despite being a giant piece of what is essentially machinery. Freaky.

“Oh, no no. It’s not that I’ve been against it, I just haven’t had the money or need for one I suppose.” You explain, feeling like you owe him an explanation as to why you don’t have an earlier model. “I’m a grad student, you see?”

Jungkook nods softly, gesturing to the couch for you to sit down. You follow, a bit confused as to what this could possibly be about. It feels as though he’s about to break up with you, making you laugh softly to yourself as you sit on the opposite side of the couch. “I’m not sure what needs you have, but just let me know and I will do my best to fulfill them. This can range from construction, gardening, cooking, cleaning, companionship, intimacy, etc.”

“Intimacy, what does that even mean in terms of an android?”

“Some androids are designed to carry out human wants and desires for sexual intercourse-”

“Okay, okay, sorry I asked.” You cut Jungkook off before he can give you the long, likely in-depth explanation of their usage. “So, what do you want to do around here? I mean it’s just me, so it’ll probably get pretty lonely unless you come to my classes with me.” You chuckle. “I mean, it’s not very big but it’s comfortable, feel free to help yourself to whatever you’d like.”

“I want to do what you want me to do, Y/n,” Jungkook answers, speaking like a true CyberLife android, a computer.

“God, it’s so weird.” You complain. “You look so human but act like you’re an android, so it’s just throwing me off.” You smile softly, watching as he smiles back. His smile is pretty, perfectly aligned teeth on full display. When he smiles hard, small wrinkles form in the corners of his eyes which you find oddly endearing. “Your LED also is barely noticeable, just all of it together tricks my mind into thinking you’re a human.”

“That’s how I was engineered, with that in mind.” He smiles, “I don’t think I’ll be mass-marketed due to how human my design is, it would likely cause unrest within society.” You nod along to that, it most definitely would only make the anti-android movement worse. “If you’d like, I can adjust my LED to be more of the stereotypical android look.”

“No, no that’s okay. I like you however you present yourself. But, can you change your hairstyle? It’s just a bit too CyberLife, fresh out of the package if you want to go out in public later on.” You shrug, once again feeling the need to explain to him. He does, switching through various hairstyles before deciding on one. It’s slightly longer, with soft waves making it look fluffier than before. It’s still just as dark, but it suits him.

“I can also simulate body modifications such as piercings, tattoos, scarification, split tongue, stretched lobes, whatever you would wish for me to look like,” Jungkook informs, once again sounding fresh out of the box.

“You do whichever ones you’d like, Jungkook. It’s your body, fake or not.” You smile, watching as he shuffles through the catalog of options in his head. A giant smile overtakes his face as he comes out with two face piercings, a couple of ear ones, and most notably his tattoo sleeve.

“Uhm, is this okay? I can always change my setting back if you prefer it-”

“It’s okay, Jungkook. We gotta get you out of your default settings, jeez.” You laugh. “I’m not really sure what to do now, I was watching a TV show if you’d like to watch it with me?”

“I’d love to.” He beams, watching as you jog into your room. (You forgot the name of it already, mind racing 1000 miles a minute with everything going on.) You come back out with blankets to hide it, handing him one as you set up the living room TV. “I’d also love to make you dinner while we watch, would that be okay?”

“Kook, YES. I don’t mind what you do unless it’s like actively punching holes in my drywall. Then maybe I’ll draw the line.” You joke, finally earning a laugh from him. It’s contagious, spreading over to you as you giggle along. You don’t think you’ve completely wrapped your brain around the fact that he’s one of a kind, purposely engineered to basically do anything and everything, and so annoyingly pretty as he sits in your small apartment content as ever. “Also, I’m not sure if you notice, but your footsteps make almost no noise. It’s okay to make sounds. I think if you walk around here completely silent you'll probably scare the shit out of me.”

“Noted.” Jungkook chuckles, sliding off of the couch and making his way into the kitchen. He makes more noise this time, and it’s much more comfortable that way. The soft knocking of pots and pans fills the background, not enough to be annoying but enough to let you know there is someone else here. Maybe, and you’d never ever admit it to Jimin, his addition to your home is starting to feel like it will be a welcomed one.

Getting used to having another person, an android, in the house is a learning experience. The following morning after he was delivered, you had completely forgotten all about him in your half-awake state. After using the bathroom, your feet shuffle out into the kitchen in search of any sustenance before you start the day, Jimin already texting you to ensure you guys are still on for your morning coffee run and walk to the CyberLife store.

“Good morning, I made you-”

You’ve never screamed so loud, so early in the morning. You’re sure you woke up all of your neighbors in a 5-door radius, along with the incoming noise complaint that is surely on its way. You screamed so loud that Jungkook has to recalibrate his audio processing system, standing still for multiple minutes as it reboots.

“Sorry, sorry Kook.” You cackle after the initial fright, hands holding your stomach as you almost cry from laughter. “Adjustment period, remember when you said that?” You laugh harder, making your way over to him. Jungkook laughs softly along with you, not nearly as hard but he feels happy seeing you so happy. He grins hard as you wipe away your tears, your stomach hurting from just how hard you're laughing. “Okay, okay, that’s enough. I have to stop.” With another glance at Jungkook in the kitchen, you’re cracking up again.

“Y/n! I thought I’d be nice and make you breakfast!” Jungkook whines as you continue laughing at him, unable to hold it back for longer than one-minute intervals. You slowly calm down over the course of the next 10 minutes, forcing yourself to not think about it. “Anyway, I made you a breakfast sandwich. I’m not sure if you have anything to do today but-” Jungkook stops talking as he notices your chest heaving, trying hard not to laugh. “Are you-are you serious?? You can't even look at me huh?” Jungkook cracks, smiling hard.

At this point, there are tears rolling down your face. “Sorry, sorry. Okay, I’m done for real this time. Just had to get it out of my system.”

“Uh-huh, sure.” Jungkook jokes, putting the plate in front of you regardless of you continuing to giggle every now and then.

“I’m not sure what you’d like to do today, but I’m gonna go out with a friend for a bit. There’s not much to do here, I’m normally used to being out all the time, but there’s Netflix, Hulu, Disney, whatever you’d like to watch.” You talk in between bites, rushing as you inhale the food. You get ready quickly, awkwardly side-hug Jungkook as a goodbye, and rush off to meet up with Jimin.

Jimin is as ecstatic as ever, going on and on about who he thinks got the android in yesterday’s raffle. He gets his hopes up a bit before going to the store, coming up with the idea that maybe no one won and he’ll be unboxed today. Nerves flood throughout your body, your mind thinking back to the sweet boy that made you breakfast this morning. “Anyway, what’re you up to today?” Jimin sighs after his excitement, strolling along the sidewalk with his drink in hand.

“Probably a bit of holiday shopping, and hanging out with a friend-”

“A friend?! Who? Do I know them?” He interrupts you, immediately questioning.

“No, no I don’t think you do. He’s a family friend of my mom’s side-”

“HE?”

“I hate talking to you.” You laugh, no longer feeling the need to continue talking about it. You ignore Jimin’s prying questions, favoring dismissing all of them. What’s he look like? Where’s he from? Is he cute? What’s his name? Is he nice? Jimin brings up anything and everything. “Okay, we’re here, oh noooo.” You chuckle, pretending to be disappointed.

“I’ll find out eventually.” Jimin sticks his tongue out at you before entering the store. He’s beyond disappointed that the box is no longer sitting in the store, texting you about it as you walk home.

Coming home, you’re a bit more prepared as you enter your apartment, spotting Jungkook in the living room. The upcoming week is your adjustment period, slowly becoming less and less spooked by his presence in your cozy home. Jungkook has learned to turn down his hearing slightly in the mornings until you get used to him, no longer having to re-coordinate his processing system constantly. You’ve also warmed up a lot to him over the week, the sweet android quickly becoming a part of your everyday life and holding a fond place in your heart. You’ve made movie nights become a ritual, cuddling up to Jungkook on colder nights. (He’s aware and even adjusts his systems to make himself put out more heat for you.)

Jungkook is also the best listener you know, listening and taking in all of the stories you’re willing to tell him. He knows a lot about Jimin, as you seem to hang out with him the most. He had dumbly asked if he was your boyfriend, sending you into another laughing fit you were unable to stop. Along with this, he’s started accompanying you out more. Jungkook comes on grocery runs with you, goes to the library with you, goes to the nearby cafe you frequent, and even begins joining you on nights out at clubs. It’s scary how no one realizes he’s an android and doesn’t even bat an eye at him even in android-free spaces.

Most nights out, Jungkook has to fight you into bed in your tipsy state. You appreciate him for it, and all of the patience he shows you. “Y/n, let me take off your makeup.” Jungkook giggles softly, sitting on the edge of the bed as he holds a makeup wipe in his hand. He’s carefully holding your ankle in his palm, keeping you from sliding head first off the bed if you move too much. As you shuffle around to better lay on the bed, he no longer needs to restrain you. Currently, you have the spins, holding onto Jungkook’s clothes in a death grip to ground yourself. Jungkook smiles softly at you. “It’ll just take two seconds, come here.”

You finally oblige, shuffling around to place your head in his lap. “Do your worst, pretty boy.” You slur slightly, smiling up at him.

“Pretty boy?” Kook raises a brow at you.

“Mhmm, my pretty boy.” You nod, wearing a soft smile as Jungkook wipes your makeup off. “You wanna sleep with me?”

“Sorry?” Jungkook almost chokes on his fake spit.

“You’re warm, come, lay down.” You coax him, pulling him down. You’re not laying on the bed the right way at all, heads laying at the foot of the bed. You’re also slightly diagonal, not caring at all as you cuddle close to him for warmth. Jungkook smiles hard as you nuzzle into his chest, one of your legs swinging over his. “Warm, soft.” You hum. You get the best sleep of your entire life, and it now becomes a normal thing for Jungkook to lay with you.

You learn a lot about him during this time as well. One, Jungkook can taste and eat as his program allows him to. He doesn’t need to at all, but once again he was built for companionship and he can’t think of anything sadder than people eating meals alone. You had learned this when Jungkook offered to eat with you, confusing you to hell and back before actually explaining. Now, you always make him get something when you guys go out in public, to really sell the whole he’s just a human drinking his overpriced cafe drink!! Considering other androids don't eat or drink anything other than blue blood, it really adds to his non-android appearance.

Two, he’s been programmed to be good at absolutely everything.

Personal fitness: Jungkook is more than happy to accompany you on jogs, encouraging you but also giving you the peace of mind you need when running through rough parts of town. Along with this, he somehow is able to calculate your strides and distance, which you believe blindly and don’t even question. Lastly, he’s able to carry water and electrolyte snacks that he claims are good for you when you’re physically active. When you refuse to drink, Jungkook jokingly wrestles you into submission until you take at least one sip.

Cooking: Jungkook has taken to making all of your meals, and you’re not even upset about it. Every meal is different but just as delicious, you assume he has some sort of chef programming. When you don’t have an item Jungkook needs, he’s more than willing to go out and get it for you. You’re a bit too anxious to send him on his own, but in reality, he’d probably be okay given his appearance. Despite taking over cooking needs, if you’re lucky he sometimes lets you help out with baking holiday cookies. Jungkook still takes to distracting you, twirling you around with a giant smile to the music playing in the background.

“Kook,” You whine, a giant smile plastered on your face despite complaints. You can feel Jungkook smile as he tucks his face into your neck, one hand holding your waist and the other taking your palm into his own. “The cookies will burn.”

“They still have 3 minutes, don’t worry hun.” Jungkook smiles hard, pulling back to look at you. You match the cheek-aching smile, forced to twirl as Kook easily spins you. Getting carried away, the cookies did slightly burn in the oven.

Makeup (yes, even makeup): Jungkook had offered to help you get ready for a research-related conference, let’s just say you got a lot of compliments that night.

Cleaning: You tell him constantly he doesn’t have to spend his days cleaning, but he listens very minimally and still picks up for you every day. Sometimes he tries to hide it from you, placing a very strategic piece of laundry on your floor to give the illusion that he didn’t clean. (It never works how he intends, once there was a random towel in the hallway while every other room was completely spotless. He was embarrassed about it the whole day.)

Security: He’s not a fighter under any circumstances at all, you can’t even imagine Jungkook getting into an altercation. You suppose he could if he needed, it’s likely somewhere deep in his programming. However, it’s the peace of mind he brings to you every night, you no longer deal with the worry of if your door is locked 1000 times.

Helping with your Grad assignments: Kook is a very advanced computer, how can you not?

And just simple companionship on days you’re worn down and tired. On days when you're very stressed out, he happily does your skincare to help you relax along with a small massage he knows from, who knows, somewhere deep in his computer brain.

“Kook, can you really take your time today, I need the relaxation.” You chuckle, grabbing all of your products and walking out of the bathroom. Jungkook follows, confusion growing even more as he watches you lay down on the floor with a pillow.

“....What are you doing?” Jungkook chuckles, standing over you a bit as he peers down.

“Come, sit, sit.” Without any more questioning, Jungkook sits with his legs slightly separated. You move to lay in between them, pillow on his lap. Ohhh, he sees now. Jungkook pulls out all of the stops he can with the tools provided, doing your skincare and giving you a massage. “Holy shit, you’re good at this.”

You suppose the only thing you’re unsure of with his skills is his intimacy feature, as you haven't had any reason or want to test it. You’ve been curious about the extent of the features, Jungkook is more than happy to once again explain all of his programming to you. Artificial saliva, physically soft skin, artificial bodily fluids, flexibility, shapes created with pleasure in mind, etc. The list goes on and on. He was also more than happy to offer his services to you, bright-eyed and excited about your reaction. You postpone the offer, maybe another time. At this, Jungkook begins his lecture about how it’s detrimental to one’s health to be sexually frustrated for too long that you put an end to, as quickly as possible.

You haven't introduced Jungkook to Jimin quite yet, a bit scared Jimin would immediately clock your android counterpart as exactly that, an android. You have to explain this to Jungkook, who wants to meet Jimin more than anyone else since you seem to be such great friends. He understands the dilemma but still wants to meet regardless.

Maybe four weeks into the break, there’s a knock on the door that catches Jungkook’s attention more than yours. You’re busy getting tangled in the Christmas tree lights that are impossibly knotted, Jungkook trying to help out as much as he can. He’s hesitant after accidentally pulling one of the cords and almost swiping your feet out from underneath you. “Can you go get that please, Kook?” You mumble, lights somehow wrapped around your waist, legs, and neck. Jungkook scurries to do as he’s told, not wanting to take over lights for you.

You can hear the door creak open, followed by a period of silence. “Who are you??” Your hands stop moving, eyes blown wide as you glance over to the door. Shit shit shit.

“Hey Jimin! Come in!” You call from the living room, still hard at work at making the lights cooperate with you. You pray to god he doesn’t see you sweat. “I told you about him, remember? He’s in town for a while on an internship. Jimin, this is Jungkook, a family friend. Jungkook, this is Jimin.” You introduce the two of them. Jimin turns around to face Jungkook, Jungkook quickly catches your eye contact. You mouth to him to turn his LED off completely, which he follows.

“It’s nice to meet you.” Jungkook smiles wide, garland hanging down from his arms as he shakes Jimin’s hand. Jimin shakes his hand back, turning back to you.

“Y/n! You didn’t tell me said friend was so hot!” Finally, the atmosphere breaks as all of you laugh along with each other. The entire interaction is based solely on the assumption you have that no one has seen Jungkook’s design, including Jimin. He doesn’t seem to clock Jungkook immediately, joining in on your and Kook’s journey of setting up the decorations. Jimin gets ornaments in order, Kook garland, and you get lights. Next, you all take turns walking around the tree stringing everything up. The star is the scariest part, Jungkook insists on just lifting you to place it atop the tree.

Jimin laughs his ass off the entire time, watching as Jungkook wraps his arms around your thighs and easily lifts. “Jungkook, my ass is in your face.” You laugh, wobbling slightly as you cackle. Jimin also laughs hard at this.

“I’m not looking, promise.” This only makes the group of you laugh harder. Jimin looks at Jungkook to check the accuracy, falling to his knees as he sees Jungkook’s head at a 90-degree angle looking sideways. “Put the star on!” Jungkook calls, laughing softly. Thankfully, you come down unscathed and unharmed. You all settle in, putting on holiday movies to watch.

“Do you guys want hot chocolate?” You ask, already getting up and making your way into the kitchen to start making them.

“I’ll help.” You send Jungkook a hard glare, seating him back down. “Ugh, fine. You never make mine right though.” He complains, sitting back down and grabbing his blanket once more. You can see him and Jimin talking, but you’re unable to hear it over the movie. Walking back in slowly, you cautiously carry three mugs.

“Here, you big baby. Hot chocolate with extra chocolate and whipped cream.” You hand Jungkook his and then Jimin's. “And regular for you like an adult.” You watch as Jungkook sticks his tongue out at you, making you laugh as you sit down.

“Extra chocolate? Kook, do you mind if I taste yours?” Jimin asks, scooching forward to reach over you. Jungkook mumbles something about wanting his whipped cream, quickly licking the majority of it off the top before handing it over. Jimin glances down at the cup before taking a sip, nodding his head. “Y/n, can you make mine like that next time?”

“Wow.” You laugh, rolling your eyes as you return your attention back to the movie. The night continues without much more commotion, the group of you watching movies and taking turns making cocktails. Jungkook purposely dumbs his down to hide himself, relief washing over you as you’re handed a simple mixed drink. (Jungkook can and will make the most elaborate, bartender-level drinks you’ve ever seen.) Maybe he’s not as clueless as he pretends to be.

“I think I should get going, gotta get up early in the morning.” Jimin yawns, standing up and stretching. “I won’t make you come get coffee with me since I have to be at work at 6 am.”

At this, you recoil. “So generous, Jimin. I definitely would not make it there at 5:30.” You laugh, getting up off the couch to walk him out. “Do you want us to walk with you, it’s a bit late Jim.”

“...Tae is picking me up.” You gasp as Jimin opens the door. Jimin slaps a hand over your mouth. “And NO! You can’t meet him tonight, I have to at least give him a warning in advance.”

“I hate you.” You sigh, jokingly shoving him out of the door frame. “I’ll see you soon, loser. Text me when you get home so I know you’re safe and so I know this weird, unknown, creepy Taehyung that I’ve never met didn’t kidnap you or something.” Waving goodbye to Jimin, you can finally breathe as you shut the door. “He’s skeptical of you.” You huff.

“I know.” Jungkook mumbles, “I think the hot chocolate and drinks convinced him, though. He stopped being skeptical after that. Now, he’s skeptical and thinks we’re dating.”

You don’t know how Jungkook can tell, but you believe him. With a long sigh, you return to the couch, plopping down back onto the blankets. “He’s too skeptical about everything.” You laugh. Kook follows you into the living room, laying down on top of you. “He wouldn’t care that you’re an android, Kook.” You reassure him, “I just don’t want that to be your description and introduction to people we meet.” Jungkook nods in agreement.

After the small bout with Jimin, Jungkook settles in very well over the course of December.

He makes breakfast, wishes you a safe trip before your departure if you’re doing somewhere without him, sometimes earns himself a peck on the cheek that makes him blush bright red, picks up around the apartment or organizes, and then just hangs around until you get home. He genuinely believes you getting home is the best part of his day, can’t even imagine a better person to wait around for. Sometimes you guys will go out for the evening if you’re not tired, other nights you both stay in and watch tv or movies cuddled close together.

For once, you’re not spending the holidays alone. Over the last couple of years, you had always gone over to Jimin’s apartment for company if he was still in town. Other times, you just spent the holiday watching movies. “Merry Christmas Eve, Kook.” You hum, sitting close to him with your head resting on his shoulder. Your knees are folded underneath you, facing Jungkook’s lap but not on him. Jungkook rests his head on yours, a blanket tossed over both of your laps. You’ve already made cookies and Jungkook started cooking ahead for tomorrow’s Christmas dinner. Jungkook has been scolding you constantly for making him do dumb childish Christmas activities, cookies for Santa, carrots for reindeer, etc. You think it’s cute.

“Merry Christmas Eve, pretty girl.” Jungkook hums back, reaching over to hold your hands. He’s taken to calling you pet names, making you blush furiously every time.

“Do you want an early Christmas present?” You smile hard at him, glancing up at him.

“Is that even a question?” Jungkook giggles, watching as you jump off the couch and immediately sprint into the bedroom. He can hear loud rummaging, and he’s about 99% sure you’re in the closet. You come out with a medium-sized gift bag, presenting it to him. Placing it in his lap, you watch with a giant smile as he opens it. Somehow, he reaches underneath his set and instead pulls out your matching pajamas. “Y/n, I don't think these will fit me.” He chuckles.

“How do you go underneath the top thing?” You scoff, snatching them out of his hands and quickly hiding them behind your back. Kook chuckles softly as he finally pulls out his set, a giant smile plastered on his face as he examines it. “And, I also have one. So we can match.” With loud laughter, you and Jungkook begin sprinting to the hall. You duck into your room, and Jungkook disappears into the bathroom.

Your heart feels heavy with emotion as Jungkook steps out of the bathroom on the other side of the hall, you stand in the doorway of your room. “Y/n, thank you.” Jungkook mumbles, voice wavering a bit as he reaches out and takes your hand in his. You could cry as he pulls you into his arms, placing a soft kiss on your forehead. “Thank you for everything.”

“C'mon now, don’t get all sentimental Jeon.” If you get any more sentimental, you’ll cry. “You’re not going anywhere for a while.”

“I wouldn’t even think of it.” He smiles, leading you back to your Christmas movie marathon in the living room. Watching movies for the rest of the night, Christmas comes before you even realize it.

“Merry Christmas,” Jungkook speaks softly, once again kissing your forehead.

“Merry Christmas, my sweet boy.” You kiss his cheek in return, fighting the blush away.

Christmas is exactly what you’ve dreamed of, eating together, watching movies, opening gifts, setting up and playing with said gifts, and spending plenty of time cuddled up together. For Jungkook’s gifts, you got him a game system and a phone to keep him busy once the spring semester starts in a couple of weeks. Jungkook’s quick to input your number, demanding it as soon as it comes out of the box.

“Are you ready for your presents?” Jungkook smiles.

“Am I huh?” You question, raising a brow. You weren't expecting anything since Jungkook is an android, and therefore is unable to work unless it’s programmed into him. Along with this, he hasn’t asked you for any money within the last couple of weeks. “How, Kook?” You mumble as he comes out of your apartment's small storage closet with gifts, a bright smile on his face.

“I maybe, maybe not, went out and did college kid’s homework and assignments for cash.” Jungkook cheekily smiles, avoiding the look you give him. He’s lucky he’s so sweet and kind, otherwise, you’d scold him to hell and back for it. At least he was able to get around without being clocked as an android, you choose to look on the bright side. He sets the prettily wrapped box in your lap, yet another thing he’s good at. It’s a new bookbag and a recipe book, Jungkook’s pretty handwriting, and little doodles filling the pages. There’s a card in the bag, you already know it’s going to be sentimental and doubt you’ll be unable to read it without crying.

As you suspected, you’re in tears by the end of the card. You sniffle hard as you press it against your face, hiding your tears from Jungkook. “Nooo, don’t cry. That wasn’t my intention.” Jungkook coos at you, wrapping you in his arms with ease. “Your bookbag seemed to have a lot of miles on it, I figured I’d get you a new one for the upcoming semester. The recipe book is in case you ever want to cook for me, since you always complain about never being able to make me dinner.” Jungkook explains. “And the note is just my gratitude, I suppose.”

“I told you no more sentimental stuff.” You chuckle, wiping your tears off your face as you turn to properly hug him. “Sorry I didn’t write you a card, I didn’t even think of it.” You mumble.

“I don’t need a card, trust me,” Jungkook speaks softly, kissing your cheek where a tear stain still remains. “Do you wanna get back to our movie?” With a nod, Jungkook is quick to put it back on and pull you close to him, allowing you to lay on his chest. The movie begins to wrap up, your mouth opens before you can rethink it.

“Kook?”

“Hm?”

“Do you wish you were human? Or do you wish you were given to a different owner?” You ask curiosity just genuinely wanting to know his answer.

“I’m not sure, really. I suppose being a human has a lot of rules for socializing, existing, and everything else. I know I’m not a human, but it does feel like I am so I suppose that’s close enough for me to be content.” Jungkook explains, shrugging softly as he holds you to him. “And I don’t wish I was given to another human, I really like it here. I think if I were with anyone else, they’d likely treat me like an android and expect me to, idk, act like one. That seems like a stupid question, given my completely sincere and heartfelt letter.”

You giggle, nodding to agree with him. “Yeah, probably. It’s easy to expect you to act like a perfect android when that’s how you were marketed, after all.” You giggle, sitting up to peer down at him. Your hands rest on his chest to support some of your weight. Jungkook is very pretty, even prettier peering up at you with eyebrows slightly scrunched together. “I still just can't believe you’re an android, Kook. Sometimes I don’t think about it and just see you as a person. Can I ask you something?”

“Anything, always.” Jungkook grits as he stares up at you.

“You’ve been using I think and I feel, Jungkook.” Jungkook tenses hard underneath you, fear momentarily flashing across his face. “CyberLife programming doesn’t do that. Were you built with a missing code, or did you break your coding when you got here?” You ask softly, hands meeting his face and gently holding it in your palms. Jungkook seems scared, fighting for an appropriate answer to your question. “I like it, Kook. I was hoping this would happen, but I wasn’t going to try and recode or reprogram you myself. I just want to know. Your note was also a dead giveaway, Jeon.”

“...I broke out of it partly when I got here and you started asking me to just be myself and not be my program.” Jungkook answers truthfully, “And then I broke out of it completely when it wouldn’t let me feel love for you, platonically or romantically. I didn’t like it, so I got out.”

You smile hard at him, rubbing the stress out of his face softly with your thumbs. Leaning forward, you place a soft kiss on his forehead. “I love you too, Jeon.”

Jungkook’s hands meet your knees on the couch, holding onto them as you sit on his lap. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable Y/n,” Jungkook almost whines underneath you, squeezing your knees. “But my programming, it’s uhm, on, right now. I can’t really control it just yet, it's created to react to your actions and body. And you’re, uhm moving a lot right now. Just give me a minute to-”

“...What if I want to, maybe, utilize these features?”

“Oh fuck,” Jungkook whines, hands coming up to cover his face momentarily. His head pushes itself back into the throw pillow he was resting on. You smile as his hair spreads out around his face as he does so.

“Only if that’s what you want too, Kook.” You mumble, shuffling slightly to better distribute your weight on his lap. Jungkook genuinely whines, his hips bucking slightly against your own as he searches for friction. You rise to your knees slightly at this, Jungkook quickly moving his palms to seat you back down. His warm hands splay across your thighs and finger tips digging at your hips, holding you down. Excitement bubbles deep in your chest, knees squeezing Jungkook’s waist a bit tighter. “Kook, I can feel you.” You whine as his hands press your hips into his, the pajamas much thinner than you realized before. “I need words, Jungkook, for confirmation.”

“Y/n, I’ve been offered my services for weeks. I have been out of my program for weeks as well,” Jungkook grins, hands sliding, moving your hips to grind down onto him. “There is nothing I want more.” He answers honestly, sitting up to meet you. “Please, let me make you feel good.” Jungkook meets your lips, extremely soft as he kisses you. He waits for you to respond, too scared of making you uncomfortable by moving too quickly. Kissing him back, Jungkook is quick to pull you close, chest pressed flush against one another.

His eyes quickly meet yours as you pull him back softly by his hair, searching your face for any discomfort as quickly as his computer brain can process human emotion. You don’t give him much, your eyes scanning across his features as you take them in. “I just wanna see my pretty boy, that’s all.” You reassure, pecking his lips a couple of times as you guide him to lay back down on his back. He happily lets you do as you please, god he’d let you do anything. His eyebrows knit together as your cold hands slip underneath the pajama top, easily slipping it up and off. Jungkook is quick to follow, tossing your top off before quickly pulling you down to him, warm skin pressed together. “So warm, Kook.” You mumble against his lips, your hands finding purchase on his biceps.

“So soft, you’re so soft.” Jungkook groans against your lips, hands kneading your skin underneath them as he explores every inch of exposed skin. He rubs goosebumps away every now and then, holding you even closer. “Let me make you feel good, pretty girl. Lay back for me." Jungkook's voice is husky, lips never fully leaving yours as he talks to you. You follow his instructions, moving to lay on your back as he quickly follows. You’re completely flipped now, Jungkook in between your legs as he leans over you.

His palms never leave you longer than it takes to remove clothing, lips working their way along your jaw. “So perfect for me, just for me. Always wanna be with you, Y/n.” Jungkook almost babbles into your skin, leaving dark marks in his wake. Sooner than you can comprehend, you’re completely bare before him.

“Kook, this feels unfair,” You complain, reaching to pull at his pajama pants.

Jungkook basically rolls his eyes at you, pulling at his pants and kicking them off behind him, not paying much attention and basically clearing the coffee table. “Would you just focus?” He smiles, having to bite back a soft laugh.

“You just swiped everything off the coffee table.” You comment dryly, also having to bite back a laugh at the situation. “You know, you’re literally a house robot, you’ll be cleaning it up-fuck,” Jungkook isn’t listening anymore, sliding down to his torso and nipping at your thighs.

“You were saying?” He humors you, diving in before giving you a real chance to answer his question. It’s impossible to talk, mewls and whines slipping through every time you try to come up with some witty, snarky response. Jungkook, smug, knows that. He’s unrelenting, face buried in between your legs with no signs of moving.

“Kook, how are you, fuck, so good at this?” You whine, hands reaching down to tangle in his hair, pulling him closer to you. Jungkook, at the pull, groans, animalistic as he gives you exactly what you want. “Kook,” You mumble, hips lifting off of the couch to grind against him.

“Yes, there you go, pretty girl.” Jungkook groans against your skin. You push and pull, moving him exactly how you need, how you want. Jungkook, ever eager to please, could get off on this alone. His hips unconsciously grind against the couch, needing some sort of relief, it’s almost torture. “Gotta get you ready, feel good, hm?” Jungkook asks softly, vibration shooting straight to the knot in your stomach. One that only tightens as his fingers move, easily sliding inside, kneading at exactly where you need him.

“Is this a programming thing?” You whine, clenching tightly around his fingers from the pleasure. He knows exactly what you need, exactly how to give it to you.

“It's wanting to please you.” He answers quickly, going right back to his work. He can feel you react as you grow closer, clenching tighter around him, grinding harder against his face, thighs closing in around his head. “Feel good, hm?”

“Too good,” You whine, legs beginning to shake as you draw closer, body on fire. “You’re going to make me cum, gonna cum for you.” Your voice cracks, coming unraveled on his fingers. Jungkook relishes in it, committing every sound to memory, every shake, every twitch of your thighs around his head. He groans as he tastes you, tastes it, arms wrapping tighter around your hips to hold you in place.

“Kook, need more, need you,” You whine loudly, hands reaching to his shoulders to pull him up. He follows, moaning softly when your legs wrap around his waist.

“Need it, or want it?” He asks, kissing along your skin, “Take it pretty girl, take all you want.” Jungkook leads, softly pulling you up to straddle his hips. Kook pulls at his boxers, helping you maneuver around to get more comfortable. “Gonna let you lead, make yourself feel good.” It all feels like too much, body on fire as you grind against him, easily slipping along his cock. Your legs are just now recovering, shaky as you pick your body weight up, easily sliding down.

“Kook, wait wait fuck,” You whine, hips pressing themselves down until he’s buried as deep as he can, stopping all your movement. “Feels good, really good.” Your skin is on fire, and you have no doubt that your cheeks and ears are bright red. Trying to find purchase anywhere, your hands grip his forearms where they hold your waist. He feels too good, your mind feeling fuzzy as your chest rises and falls as you try to calm down. Pretty, he looks so pretty underneath you as he peers up through half lidded eyes. A small wrinkle forms in between his brows as he focuses all his attention on your pleasure.

“Pretty girl~” Jungkook almost coos to you, leaning up to press your foreheads against one another. “Let me take care of you, I’ll be so gentle I promise. Lemme make you feel good.” He reassures you, grinding against you to prove his point. Shapes with pleasure in mind weren't a lie, his cock perfectly angled to catch that soft spot inside everytime. Placing your hands onto his chest, you regain a tiny bit of stability as you slide along his cock. The little bit of composure you have is short lived, Jungkook’s beginning to slide out before slowly pushing back in, only stopping when your hips connect again.

“So deep, Kook,” You can only whine, arms losing their strength as you slip down, only holding your hips up and resting on his chest. “Sorry, it feels too good,” You apologize as he does all the work, thrusting while also maneuvering your hips to target where it feels best. Everytime he bottoms out, he’s sure to grind against your clit, only adding to your overwhelmed state. You’ve barely even started, barely even moved, and you’re panting like a bitch in heat. A giant smirk comes across Jungkook's face, pride blooming in his chest as you whine and pant all for him.

“Feels good, hm? You’re gonna be a good girl and let me hear you come for me?” He rasps against your ear, one of his hands moving to hold the back of your head. “So pretty, beautiful. All for me.” He encourages, making your face flush further as he forces you to stare into his eyes. It feels as though if you were pinched hard enough you’d wake up. “Come for me Y/n, all over my cock, wanna feel you.” It hits you out of nowhere, almost blind siding you as it washes over your entire body. Your thighs clamp down around Jungkook’s waist hard, trying to still the stimulation. He doesn’t allow such luxury, determined to thoroughly ride you through the orgasm, continuing his movement until you’re almost begging.

“Kook?” Your voice is rough as you finally speak up, shaky hands meeting his chest as you push yourself up once again.

“Hm?” He acknowledges you, hands running across your skin to smooth out any goosebumps that remain. You’re about 90% sure his touch is what’s sprouting them, but you don’t have the mindfulness right now to tell him that.

“Why does it feel so good? S’like I can't even think with you inside me.” You whimper as you feel him throb, hips beginning to grind against him for some sort of stimulation. Jungkook beams underneath you as you instinctively fuck yourself onto him, so desperate for pleasure. Your brows knit together and bottom lip is quickly caught between your teeth as you grind your clit against him, cock nudging your g spot simultaneously.

“Hmmm, I don't know. Scientifically there are multiple answers for that. But realistically, it’s likely my design and programming, and the fact you haven't been touched the entire time I’ve been here.” He chuckles at the last bit, reminiscing on all the lectures about sexual health and how too much frustration is a bad thing, “You’re extra sensitive, and I know just what to do, where to touch, how to make you tick, Y/n.” He teases as he slowly rubs the pad of his thumb into your swollen clit, the sensation making you cave in on yourself as you try to avoid it. “Cute.”

“Jungkook, m’serious!” You slur, rocking softly.

“I know pretty girl, I know. I can tell.” Jungkook chides, clearly finding some sort of humor as he watches you shake and twitch because of his cock. “You feel good, hm? Help yourself pretty.”

“I'll try,” You nod, your bottom lip finding its place between your teeth once more. Your feet lift a bit to hook around Jungkook’s inner thighs, giving you some sort of leverage to fuck yourself up and down. The very first movement is already pulling a whine from past your lips, so sensitive already. Jungkook's eyes are fixated where the two of you are connected, giant eyes watching his cock disappear and reappear. He feels himself throb as a ring of your cum begins to form, deep, deep pride and smugness brewing.

“Taking me so good, riding me so well.'' Jungkook praises, feeling his cock jump once again as your thighs begin to tremble softly. “Feels good?” Jungkook coos, palms beginning to run over the muscle.

“Really good,” You nod, biting back moans. Jungkook moans softly when you tighten around him, hands reaching up for your face.

“Be my good girl, let me hear you. Gotta hear how good my cock makes you feel,” Jungkook moans softly as you tighten around his cock. His fingers gently slip into your mouth, running along your tongue to hold your mouth open, preventing you from biting down on your lip again. “There you go,” He smiles as you moan and whimper, drool beginning to pool around Jungkook's fingers (not that he minds at all.) “I need to know how good I am to you,” He cracks, a small whimper slipping as he finishes his sentence.

“You look so pretty, Kook-ah,” You babble around his fingers softly, looking down at him. The visual is almost enough to make you cum on the spot, so unbelievably worked up it almost hurts. The way he’s peering up at you like you’re everything to him, chest beginning to artificially flush, lips bright red, cheeks beginning to match. His hair is still splayed around his head, creating a pretty halo. “Gonna cum again for you,” You whimper, hips meeting his own with a small slap.

“Good,” He smiles, rubbing small circles in your clit when you begin avoiding grinding onto him. It makes your legs shake further, your moans growing as you’re unable to muffle yourself, one hand still holding your jaw. You cum hard, thighs shaking harder than you’ve ever experienced before. Jungkook's sensitive to your reaction, slowing down his movements to allow you to ride through it without it hurting too much. “Good girl, so good for me, feels good, hm? Just a bit longer,” He talks you through it gently, voice honey to your ears.

You nod, riding through it for as long as possible. As you finish, your body slumps forward, arms wrapping around Kook’s neck as you hug him close. “Do you not cum? Is that not how this works?” You chuckle softly, his cock still throbbing softly.

“I can, when I feel that my partner has been thoroughly pleased and satisfied.” He informs, his CyberLife popping out for a quick moment. You shake, holding him closer. Jungkook wraps his arms around you, gently stroking your hair as you calm down.

“You’re going to be the death of me, how much more satisfied am I gonna get?”

“We’ll find out.”

“Jungkook,” You pull back the slightest bit to catch his face, a cheeky smirk written all over it. He leans forward, placing a soft kiss onto the tip of your nose.

“I gotta make up for the weeks you were celibate.” He softly grinds up into you, filling you with a wave of want once more. “I need to satisfy you,” He teases, kissing along your jaw and beginning to trail down to your neck. “Make sure no one else ever does it as good as me, no one else can make you cum like I can.” He continues, beginning to sit up and make you sit up as well, easily lifting both of your body weight.

“Fuck, Kook,” You whine, allowing him to maneuver you onto your back, never slipping out once. You can feel him throb softly, beginning to work himself up.

“So even if you look elsewhere, all you’ll think of is me, this pussy all mine, always,” He bites down softly into the flesh of your shoulder, leaving a light mark. “My girl,” He smiles, leaving light marks once more. His hips instinctively grind into you as he talks, not giving you a break for a second.

“All yours, Kook. I'm all yours.” You whimper softly as he slides out entirely, slowly filling you up again.

“Fuck, Y/n,” He whimpers into your neck, seemingly beginning to feel affected. “So tight,” He pants softly, hiking your legs up before pinning them to his shoulders, hands placed firmly on the couch underneath you. He’s deeper like this, able to target exactly where you need him without even really trying to. He slides out slowly, snapping his hips forward this time. It forces a moan from the both of you, sharp spikes of pleasure shooting up your back.

Jungkook holds his torso up, strong arms flexing and veins beginning to show. Your hands grip hard at his biceps, trying to find some sort of stability as he easily folds you in half, hips unrelenting as he snaps them forward. You can't quiet down, mind becoming fuzzy as you moan and whine for him.

“So tight, just, ah fuck, pulling me in, Y/n.” Jungkook pants, hands beginning to form fists where he holds the couch underneath his palms. You clench around him, words shooting straight to your core. “Don’t, shit, do that,” His hips falter the slightest bit, head falling forward slightly.

“Want you to cum with me, Jeon,” You mumble softly, arms reaching around to claw and pull at his back, pulling him closer. “You'll do that for me, please?” You ask, catching his eye contact as he pulls his head up. He lets out a soft moan as you make eye contact, abs beginning to contract as he fights off his pleasure. Fuck, he’d do anything for you.

“Need you to cum again first, just one more,” He speaks softly, reaching forward and pecking your lips softly before pulling away, he leans back a bit, giving himself more room to maneuver. His hips snap hard, chasing both of your highs. You almost complain at the loss of closeness, but quickly forget about it. “Let me have it, Y/n, need to feel you,”

It’s expected, but still rips through you, head thrown back into the couch as you shake hard. Your chest rises and falls rapidly, almost panting through your orgasm. Jungkook's hips don’t relent, chasing his own high. A loud whimper falls past your lips, hands reaching down in an attempt to push his hips away, “I know, I know, just a bit more, gonna cum for you, just like you asked pretty,” He consoles you, reaching down and softly pulling your palm up to his lips. He softly kisses your palm, hips stuttering and becoming uncoordinated as he teeters on the edge.

“Please, Jungkook, cum in me,” You whimper, the overstimulation almost too much. Your hand holds the side of his face, his own hands falling to hold onto you.

“Fuck, fuck, cumming for you,” He whimpers, hips surging forward, cumming as deep as possible. You whine and twitch as he continues, throughly fucking his cum into you until he’s satisfied with the mess the two of you made together. His chest rises and falls, small pants slipping past his soft lips as he leans forward, holding you as close as possible as he kisses you, slow and deep, passionate. It makes you throb, quickly pushing him away before you get going again.

“Kook,” You smile hazily at him.

“Right, right,” Jungkook chuckles softly, pulling out as carefully as he can. He's covered in your cum, and you’d probably be more embarrassed if you had a sense of rationale left. “So fucking pretty,” He comments, and you meet his eyes to see what he’s talking about. He’s not staring at you, he’s looking at your pussy, hands hiking your legs up by your knees.

“JUNGKOOK!!” The embarrassment begins to come back as does your rationality. Your legs pull against his hands, closing in on yourself.

“I mean it,” He laughs softly, letting you go as he leans forward to kiss you once more. “C’mon,” He smiles, wrapping his arms around you and easily lifting you. You don’t pay much attention, but you know he’s walking to the bathroom based on the direction he’s going. He runs you a warm bath, consistently checking the temperature for you. He waits with you while it fills, softly rubbing out sore muscles to the best of his ability, kissing the dark marks in your skin. Once it’s filled, he carefully helps you in, making sure you don’t slip. Once you’re fully in, he gets up and begins to make his way out.

“Kook? Can you not take a bath?”

“I can, I just need to clean up really quick first. I’ll be right back, promise,” He smiles, kissing the top of your head before leaving. You can faintly hear him shuffle about, evening declaring the space clean enough before joining you in the bath, sliding behind you. “You feel okay?” Jungkook asks softly against your shoulder, voice making goosebumps sprout against your skin. Your head is leaned back against his shoulder, back completely rested against his torso. “Anything hurt too badly?” He asks genuinely, not looking as he kisses the bite mark on your shoulder he left behind.

“Yeah, I feel okay,” You smile, nudging against him softly. “I need to know though, how does your cum work? Do I have to buy a plan B or? That’d be kinda freaky, technology so advanced it can create life.”

Jungkook genuinely laughs, making the water slosh as the both of you bounce softly. “No, no. It acts as a lubricant actually, so we could keep going if we really wanted to.” He smiles, arms wrapping around your shoulders as he hugs you close. “I wish though, you’d be such a good mama for me,” His voice vibrates against your skin, his palms splaying across your stomach where he holds you close. Once again, your pussy aches as he talks softly against your skin.

“Do not!” You warn, pushing his face and hand away as it begins trailing further down. “We'll be going round 2,3,4, and 5 if you keep it up.” You laugh, trying to get away from him.

“C’mon, pretty, relax. Let me clean you up,” Jungkook giggles as you slide away from him, trying to sit on the opposite side of the tub. He grabs your ankle, easily manuerving you to rest against his torso once more. He does as he promises, gently cleaning all the fluids and sweat off of your body, hands ghostly as he tries not to stimulate you any further. “I love you Y/n.” Jungkook sighs softly as he finishes his work, arms coming to wrap around you.

“I love you too, Kook.” You smile softly, craning your neck around to kiss him gently. You carefully maneuver your feet under you, shakily standing out of the water.

“Easy there, bambi,” He chuckles, holding his arms out on either side of you in case you really do lose balance and slip. He's persistent in his precaution, careful to hold his arms out until you’re securely on the bath mat on stable footing.

“C’mon, finish cleaning up so you can come warm me up,”

“I like the sound of that-“

“Jeon.”

“Right.”

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oceantornadoo · 6 months ago

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the realistic aftermath of ghost catching the handy in the back alley with best friend!johnny…a few weeks later

“ugh johnny, get off.” you tried pushing against him but he was deadweight, 200+ pounds of muscle at the mercy of many, many alcoholic drinks. “fhehnihernr.” you rolled your eyes. “i don’t know what you’re saying.” instead of answering, he wrapped his arms tighter around your waist, pulling you into him by your stomach. “miss? did you need some help? or another drink?” you laid your hand on top of johnny’s and he growled in approval. “two waters, please.” the bartender nodded and turned around to grab the cups. “wanna be closer t’ ye, leannen.” you chuckled in spite of yourself. “can’t get much closer than you are now.” to save him from responding, the bartender placed down your waters and you took them, nodding your thanks. “drink up, come on.” you pushed the water cup toward him, ignoring his messy mohawk and gleaming blue eyes. how even shitfaced, your best friend was too handsome and flirtatious for his own good. “let’s go back to gaz.”

johnny slid into the booth first, wrapping an arm around gaz’s shoulder. “gazzy!” you snorted, attempting to slide in after johnny. he halted your plans by dragging you into his lap, losing no strength even with his lack of sobriety. instead of protesting, you laid back on johnny’s chest, mouthing “sorry”to gaz. gaz shook his head, opting to answer with a sip of his beer. “you’re lucky cap isn’t here.” johnny had finished the water cup, slamming it down on the table. you leaned forward, ignoring his growl at the movement, and placed the second cup in his waiting hands. he chugged it, muscled throat pumping at the exertion. you overted your eyes, wisely placing your gaze on the football game on the tv. “why’s that?” thankfully, johnny sounded more sober now, the slurring at a minimum. “‘cause you two are disgusting.” you shot him an affronted look. “i’m not doing anything!” gaz pushed at your shoulder, causing you to tilt, until johnny righted you in his lap, grip growing tighter. “soap’s annoyin’ but he knows how to take a woman’s no for an answer. you jus’ never tell him no.” hmph. he did have you there. instead of forcing you to answer, johnny rested his chin your shoulder, drawing the blame back on him. “think yer jealous ‘cause i hav’ a new favorite sergeant. she’s a wee more bonnie than you, gazzy.” he placed down the second water cup, sounding s bit more sober now. “well ‘ve got 100 quid on you tossers so don’t fuck it up.” instead of letting you answer, johnny pushed you off his lap and out of the booth, murmuring something about going to the dance floor.

and now you were here, arms wrapped around johnny as you danced way too slowly to the 80s rock crooning out of the pub speakers. the tension was calmer now, the drinks in your system finally hitting, putting you at an equal level with johnny’s slowly sobering brain. he rocks you gently, strong arms keeping you steady as your fingers skim his triceps, defined even under his shirt. his fingers splay against your waist, brushing the top of your ass as you sway off beat. gaz’s words swam through your mind, coupled with the looks ghost had been giving you since he caught you two in the alley. he hadn’t told anyone, hence the bet gaz mentioned, but youve felt the silent questions coming off of him every time you entered the room. johnny feels you tense in his arms, too intuned with all your movements. “ask me, lass.” you swallowed at the low gravel of his voice, accent deeper in your ear. “are- are we doing something wrong? i dunno, johnny, it was all fine before anyone said anything and now-“ he stops you with a pinch to your hip. “‘s a pile of shite, bon. unless,” he pulls back slightly, grasping your chin to force you to meet his eyes. “tell me to stop.” you shake your head immediately, noting the smile on his face. “don’t stop. i like being close to you, anyway i can. even with the blurry lines.” he tucks you back against his chest, grip finally relaxing. “no lines, jus’ us.”

#soap calls gaz gazzy when he’s drunk i don’t make the rules #tornadothoughts #fluff #john soap mactavish #soap #soap mactavish x reader #john soap mactavish x reader #johnny mactavish x f!reader #johnny soap mactavish #johnny mactavish #johnny soap mactavish x reader #john mactavish x reader #john mactavish x you #soap x reader #soap call of duty #soap cod

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doctorbitchcrxft · 2 months ago

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Long-Distance Call | Supernatural Series Rewrite | Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Warnings: lots of arguing, angst, everyone's saying things they don't mean, canon violence, canon gore

Word Count: 5056

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For hours most nights recently, you watched Dean sleep. In the dim light coming in through the cheap curtains in motel rooms, you would make out the details of his face and trace your eyes along them. He was just so beautiful, and you considered yourself incredibly lucky for every day you got to spend with him; despite the fact that those days were coming to an end.

Dean knew you hadn’t been sleeping, but you couldn’t bring yourself to tell him why.

Sam was driving himself crazy talking to witch doctors, professors, and demonologists trying to wrap his head around a way to break Dean’s deal. You didn’t get involved, though; you knew it was futile to do so.

You weren’t sure if feeling helpless and knowing the situation was helpless was better than feeling helpless and trying to gain control of the situation, but you knew Sam probably felt as horribly as you did.

“Y’know, someday, if we ever get a house— it could happen!” you assured Dean off his skeptical look. “We should get a couch. It’d be better for our backs than sitting on Baby or these shitty mattresses.”

You sat up facing Dean who lounged on the headboard in your shared motel room. Tension had been high between the brothers recently, and you decided it was best for the three of you to bunk separately.

“You are annoyingly optimistic, you know that?” he replied.

“I like to think of myself as more of a realist,” you returned. “But I’m trying to be more like you lately.”

“What do you mean?” Dean asked. His eyes held such an intensity when he looked at you.

In vulnerable moments like these, you couldn’t bear to look back at him. You opted for looking down at the mattress or, really, anywhere other than his face. “I mean, your whole thing is being annoyingly biting and sarcastic and— I mean, you just have the most amazing sense of humor— even when things suck major ass. And I don’t know how you do it. But… it’s admirable.” When your eyes returned to his face, he was looking at you with such pride and admiration.

“What?” you asked.

“I just love you,” he said.

You grinned widely and reached for his hand. You held it for just a moment before speaking again. “When are you gonna tell Sam?”

“What?”

“That we can’t save you.”

He sighed. “(Y/N)—”

“No, Dean, he deserves to know.” You shifted to your knees from your cross-legged position. “He’s on a wild goose chase instead of enjoying the time he has with you.”

“He’s a grown man, he can make his own choices,” Dean insisted, hand retreating from yours. He crossed his arms over his chest.

You gave him a look. “And maybe he’d make different choices if he had all the information about the situation available to him.”

“Alright, professor, no need to lecture me,” he grumbled, getting out of bed.

“Dean—! Don’t get mean just because you’re pissed at yourself and this whole situation,” you said, standing to face him. “Look, I’m only saying something because I don’t want the last few weeks of your life to be spent fighting with your brother.”

“Way to put that in perspective, (Y/N), thank you,” Dean spat.

“See, this is when your attitude pisses me off beyond belief,” you argued. “I’m trying to have a conversation with you, and you’re being a complete dick. This didn’t have to turn into a fight, and I’m not understanding why it did!”

“Because you’re my girlfriend, not my fucking therapist,” he responded. “I don’t need you to tell me how to live my life.”

“Okay, this clearly isn’t about me.” You shook your head, turning away from him to grab your shorts and shoes.

“Then, what’s it about, (Y/N)?”

You turned back to him. “Clearly, this is about your deal.” “Oh, my god,” Dean scoffed.

“You’re runnin’ out of time. You’re scared, and you’re lashing out. It’s crap. I only wanna help you because I love you,” you told him. “And I’m not gonna tolerate you getting mean with me just because I told you something you didn’t wanna hear.”

“Where are you going?” Dean asked, seeing you stomp toward the door.

“Out,” you replied. “Don’t follow me.”

***

That night, after yet another argument, you convinced Dean to let you sleep in his car and have him take the bed because you knew you wouldn’t get much sleep anyway. You were hurt and angry, but you missed holding Dean. You missed memorizing his features while he slept and finally seeing him at peace.

And the next morning, the situation was no better. Now, instead of Dean and Sam fighting, it was you, Dean, and Sam fighting.

Sam had gone to talk to another person about how to potentially break Dean’s deal. “So, the professor doesn't know crap.”

“Shocking,” Dean commented. “Pack your panties, guys, we're hitting the road.”

“What? What's up?” Sam asked.

“That was Bobby.” He gestured to the phone he’d just hung up. “Some banker guy blew his head off in Ohio, and he thinks there's a spirit involved.”

“So, you two were talking a case?”

“No, we were actually talking about our feelings. And then our favorite boy bands,” Dean replied dryly. “Yeah, we were talking a case!”

“Dean, stop being an ass,” you scolded.

“Well, get Sam to stop asking stupid questions.” Sam huffed. “So, a spirit? What?”

“Yeah, the banker was talking about some sort of electrical problems at his pad for like a week. Phone was going haywire, computer was flipping on and off,” Dean explained. “This is not ringing your bell?” He pressed when Sam looked at him skeptically.

“Well, sure, yeah. But, Dean, we're already on a case,” the younger one replied.

“Whose?” Dean asked.

“Yours!”

“Right. Yeah. Well, you coulda fooled me,” the older scoffed.

“What the hell else have we been doing lately other than trying to break your deal?” Sam protested.

“Chasing our tails, that's what. Sam, we've talked to every professor, witch, soothsayer and two-bit carny act in the lower forty-eight. Nobody knows squat! And we can't find Bela, we can't find the Colt. So until we actually find something, I'd like to do my job.”

“We should summon Ruby,” Sam suggested.

“I'm not gonna have this fight with you.” Dean shook his head.

Sam continued anyway. “She said she knows how to save you.”

“About that, Dean has something he wants to tell you.” You turned to your partner expectantly with your arms folded.

“What?” Sam asked, looking between the two of you.

Dean was giving you a glare which you returned.

“Dean, what?” Sam asked again.

“She can’t save me,” Dean answered finally, still holding your glare.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Sam turn back to you. “(Y/N)—?”

“She told us she can’t save him, Sam,” you admitted.

Sam turned his anger toward you. “Whoa, so you’ve known this whole time and haven’t told me?”

“It wasn’t mine to tell, Sam!”

“Yeah, but the both of you still kept a secret from me,” he responded.

“You really wanna talk about who's keeping secrets from who?” Dean snapped.

You turned to the car.

“Where are you going?” Dean called after you.

“Guess we’re going to Ohio.”

***

You were silent for the entirety of the ride to the deceased’s house. Dean and Sam only spoke to make a snarky remark directed at each other or at you, but you refused to respond.

You asked the woman what happened to her husband, and she reluctantly told you that he kept talking to a woman named Linda on the phone. However, there was no one on the other line when she would pick it up to check.

Curious about who this woman could have been, you and the brothers returned to the motel to research.

“Linda's a babe. Or, was,” Dean commented.

Your heart dropped. You knew he was kidding, but now was so not the time to make jokes like that. “Don’t say shit like that, please.”

“She’s dead, (Y/N),” he replied dryly. “Don’t be jealous.”

“I just think it’s in really poor taste to say that right now considering the state our relationship’s in,” you told him, trying to remain as calm as possible.

He slammed his laptop shut. “Are you seriously picking a fight with me over this? Right now?”

Sam interrupted before you could respond. “Oh-kay! That’s enough. Who’s Linda?”

“Linda Bateman.” Dean turned his eyes away from you. “She and Ben Waters were high school sweethearts.”

“So what happened?” Sam asked.

“Drunk driver hit them head on. Ben walked away.”

“So, what then? Dead flame calls to chat?” Sam wondered aloud.

“You would think, but Linda was cremated. So why's she still floating around?”

“You got me,” Sam shrugged.

“What about that, uh, caller I.D?” Dean asked his brother, referring to the number he’d found on Ben’s phone.

“Turns out, it's a phone number,” Sam replied. “It's about a century old, back from when phones had cranks.”

“So, why use that number to reach out and touch someone?” Dean returned.

“Got me there too, but we should put a trace on it.”

“Well how the hell are we going to put a trace on something that's over one-hundred years old?”

Sam suggested that the three of you should head to Ben’s phone company’s local office posing as representatives of their headquarters.

“You guys go ahead without me,” you said.

“Oh, c’mon, (Y/N)—”

You cut Dean off. “No. Both of us need space before we kill each other. So, please. Go.”

“Whatever,” Dean grumbled and stormed out of the room.

Sam stayed behind with you for a moment. “I’m sorry about him,” he said.

You sniffled, wiping away tears that threatened to spill from your eyes. “It’s okay. Just a rough patch, I guess. Call me when y’all have something.”

He nodded and pulled you into a hug. Sam placed a quick kiss on the crown of your head before following his brother out of the door.

***

Sam called to inform you that the number had called over a dozen people multiple times over the last week. So, you and the Winchesters split up to investigate. Without a car, you stayed in the motel room and called the numbers Sam had forwarded to you posing as a representative of the phone company. One of the people you’d spoken to said that he’d been hearing his deceased brother calling him to reconcile the broken relationship they’d had when his brother passed away.

Just as you hung up the phone with him, Dean burst into the room and immediately started pacing.

“What’s wrong?” you asked.

Dean didn’t answer.

Sam sat at the table in the room. “He said our dad called him.”

“No fucking way,” you breathed out. “You really think it was him?”

“I don't know, maybe,” Dean grunted.

“Well, what did he sound like?” Sam asked.

“Like Oprah!” the older brother snapped. “Like Dad; he sounded like Dad, what do you think?”

“What did he say?” you questioned.

“My name,” Dean replied.

“That’s it?” Sam pressed.

“Call dropped out.”

You shook your head and folded your arms, sitting cross-legged on Sam’s bed. After the recent fights with Dean, you’d decided to get a room separate from the two brothers and had been hanging out in their room all day. “Why would he even call in the first place, Dean?”

“I don't know, (Y/N)! I’m not a fucking psychic,” he snarked. “Why are ghosts calling anybody in this town? But I mean, other people are hearing from their loved ones, why can't we? It's at least a possibility, right?”

You wanted to chew him out for snapping at you like that, but you truly had no energy to put up another fight.

“Yeah, I guess?” Sam replied in your place.

“Okay, so what if....” Dean trailed off, only looking at his brother. “What if it really is Dad? What happens if he calls back? What do I say?”

“Hello,” you suggested.

“Hello?” he scoffed.

You shook your head and rolled your eyes.

“That's what you come back with. Hello?” Dean continued.

“Fuck off, Dean,” you sneered.

Dean huffed, grabbed his jacket, and headed for the door.

Sam shot you a puppy-dog-eyed look and turned to the door to stare after his brother.

You sighed and buried your face in your hands.

“(Y/N)?”

You picked your head up.

“What’s happening to you guys?”

“I don’t know,” you admitted, tearing up. “We started fighting ‘cause I told him to tell you about the whole ‘Ruby’ thing, and I said some mean shit, and he said some mean shit, and it’s just a mess now.”

Sam gave you another puppy-dog-eyed look.

“It’ll be fine, though. I’m sure it’ll blow over.”

If it was even possible, Sam’s face dropped even further.

“Don’t look at me like that,” you smiled lopsidedly, knowing he just didn’t know how to help. “Can we talk about something other than my boy drama?”

Sam nodded. “Sure.”

***

For the next few hours, you scoured the internet for information on the “SHA33” number that was calling these poor people.

Dean returned with caustic remarks to spare. “Find anything?” he asked Sam while pretty much blatantly ignoring you.

“After three hours, I’ve found no reason why anything supernatural would be going on here,” Sam sighed, shutting his laptop.

“Me neither, Dean, thanks for asking,” you said.

“Well, you know, you think a Stanford education and a high school hook up rate of zero-point-zero would produce better results than that,” Dean scoffed at Sam.

“Hilarious,” you deadpanned, hoping to elicit some sort of a response from Dean.

He shot you a glare, but other than that, he said nothing. Dean reached into his pocket and pulled out a packet. “Motel pamphlet rack.” He dropped it on the coffee table along with a few books. “Milan, Ohio. Birthplace of Thomas Edison.”

“So what?” you asked.

Sam grabbed a book and leafed through it.

Dean just raised his eyebrows at you as Sam looked up from the book.

“You're kidding,” he said.

Dean smirked as his brother.

***

Well, a huge waste of time was the only thing Dean’s suggestion led to. The tour you went on at a museum showed the invention Thomas Edison believed could communicate with spirits and informed you that he was a devout occultist. However, the “spirit phone” didn’t set off the EMF detector.

Sleep refused to claim you. Your anxiety kept your mind racing through the long hours of the night. You sat at the table in your room staring at the door just waiting for Dean to knock. However, despite it being three in the morning, he hadn’t come yet. Your fights had all been stupid and petty, but both of you were too stubborn to be the first to admit fault.

And with each passing night, you could feel the clock ticking. You knew Dean was running out of time, and you just wanted him to hold you again. As the sun rose, your heart sank knowing he hadn’t come to make things right with you.

You stayed in your room upset until Sam called you to come over to theirs.

“What’s up?” you asked upon entering.

“That girl Lanie—” Sam was referring to the victim he’d spoken to— “her Mom's ghost spooked her out pretty bad last night.”

“That sucks,” said Dean, typing furiously on his laptop.

“What… are you doing, Dean?” you asked hesitantly.

He looked at you briefly; the expression on his face confusing. He looked back down at his computer. “I think my dad’s right. I think the demon is here. Check it out.” He handed you some papers and dug around in his bag.

“What is this, weather reports?” you asked, leafing through the papers.

“Omens. Demonic omens,” he responded. “Electrical storms everywhere we've been for the past two weeks.”

Trepidatiously, you said, “I don't remember any lightning storms.”

“Well, I don't remember you studying meteorology, either,” he snapped.

‘So much for us being civil,’ you thought.

“But I'm telling you, that bastard's been tailing me; wearing some poor dude's meat,” Dean finished.

Sam took some of the pressure off you. “And it’s following you because…?” he asked.

“I guess I'm big game, y’know? My ass is too sweet to let outta sight.” Dean threw a wink at you, and you were getting incredibly thrown off by his changing attitude.

“Okay. Sure,” Sam snorted.

Dean snatched the papers back from you. “Don't get too excited, Sammy. Might pull something.” He stood from the bed and moved away from you and his brother.

“Dean, look, I wanna believe this man, I really do…”

Dean cut his brother off. “Then believe it! if we get this sucker, it's Miller Time.”

“Yeah, that's another thing. Dad rattles off an exorcism that can kill a demon? I mean, not just send it back to hell, but kill it?” Dean’s eyes lit up. “I've checked it out. This is heavy duty Dark Ages. Fifteenth century.”

“Dean,” you said softly. “I checked on it, too. So did Sam. So did Bobby.”

“Okay, and?” he scoffed.

Sam jumped in. “Look, it definitely is an exorcism, okay, there's just no evidence it can kill a demon.”

“No evidence it can't,” he rebutted.

“Dean…” you trailed off, not wanting to start a bigger fight.

“Hey, as far as I'm aware the only one of us who has actually been to Hell is my dad. And maybe he picked up a couple of tricks down there, like which exorcisms work,” he snapped.

“Maybe!” you replied. “I hope so; for your sake. But we gotta be sure.”

“Why aren't we sure?” he asked.

“’Cause I don't know what's going on around here, Dean!” you cried. “I mean, some guy blows his brains out, a little girl is scared out of her wits—”

“Wow, a couple of civvies are freaked out by some ghosts. News flash, (Y/N), people are supposed to be freaked out by ghosts!” he shot back.

You held his stare venomously. Dean eventually dropped his head in frustration.

“Dad tell you where to find the demon?” Sam asked carefully.

“I'm waiting on the call!” he shouted.

The tension in the room was thick, and you had no idea what to say.

Sam sighed deeply and tried to change the subject. “I told Lanie I'd stop by.”

Dean scoffed. “Oh, good, yeah. No, you go hang out with jailbait. Just, uh, watch out for Chris Hansen. Meanwhile I'll be here getting ready to, y’know, save my life.”

Sam shook his head and turned to the door. You just stared at the floor.

“You two are unbelievable, y’know that?” Dean shouted. “I mean, for months, we’ve been tryin’ to break this demon deal. Now, Dad’s about to give us the fuckin’ address, and you blink? The man is dead, and you’re still butting heads with the guy?!” He turned his attention to you. “And you? What happened to us? What happened to your ‘unconditional support’?”

“Dean, you still have it!” you replied. “That was never in question! What I’m questioning is where your fuckin’ head’s at. Because this is not you.”

“Oh, god.” He rolled his eyes and began to pace.

“I’m not gonna mince my words,” you began, anger boiling to the surface. “This is fuckin’ crazy. I mean, there is no proof. At all. All you’re acting on is blind faith.”

“Yeah, well, maybe!” He shouted back. “Y’know, maybe that's all I got, okay?”

You held his stare, the anger melting out of you at his words. When you could see tears forming in his eyes, he looked at the floor.

Sam piped up. “Please. Just please don't go anywhere until I get back. Okay, Dean? Please.”

Dean stayed silent.

“C’mon, (Y/N),” Sam urged you.

You looked up at Dean. For the first time that week, he offered you a kind word. “Go. It’s okay.”

You nodded. As you turned to go, you stared over your shoulder back at Dean.

***

At Lanie’s house, the young girl got you up to speed on what happened to her the night before.

“Have you told your father about any of this?” Sam asked her.

“And bother him at work?” she replied. “No. He wouldn't believe me anyway, he'd just chuck me into therapy.”

“So what did your mother say?” you asked.

“She wanted to see me. So at first I thought I was supposed to go to the cemetery,” she sniffled.

“Did you?” Sam prompted.

Lanie nodded meekly. “Nothing happened. But then she started asking me to do other things.”

“What sort of things?”

She almost seemed embarrassed to say. “Bad things.”

You crouched down and looked up at her, breaking her gaze from the floor. “Lanie, please. Can you tell me what happened? It’s very important.”

She teared up, young eyes swimming in fear and sadness. “Mom told me to go to Dad's medicine cabinet.”

You waited patiently for her to continue.

“She wanted me to take his sleeping pills.” She stopped for a minute to gather her courage. “Take all of his sleeping pills.”

“She wanted you to kill yourself?” Sam couldn’t help himself from saying.

She nodded, crying harder. “Why would my Mom want me to do that?”

You shook your head. “I don’t know.”

“She just kept saying, ‘come to me,’ like, a million times,” she hiccuped.

Your eyes widened. “Oh, sweet girl, that's not your mother.” You stood from the ground.

Sam told Lanie, “Listen to me. Don't answer the phone. Don't use the computer. Don't do anything unless I say to, alright?”

You started down the stairs and listened carefully; just one set of footsteps was following you. You turned back to see Lanie still at the top of the stairs. “You okay?”

Her breathing was quick. “Where's Simon?”

“Simon?” you asked.

“My little brother,” she responded.

The next thing you knew, you were watching Sam shove the little boy out of the way of a speeding truck from the porch of Lanie’s house.

Immediately, you called Dean. “Dean, it’s not your dad,” you rushed out.

“Then what is it, (Y/N)?” he asked flippantly.

“A crocotta,” you answered.

“What is that, a sandwich?” he scoffed.

“They typically live in filth. Mimic loved ones. Whisper, ‘Come to me,’ then lure you into the dark and swallow your soul,” you stated.

Sam motioned for you to head to his rental car as soon as he delivered Simon to his sister safely. You followed quickly.

“A crocotta, right, damn, that makes sense,” he snarkily replied.

“Dean, c’mon, babe—”

He cut you off. “Hey, don't these things live in filth?”

“Yeah,” you replied.

“Oh, god, at the phone company there were these flies. Pretty much as soon as we got down to the basement where this guy Stewie was hangin’ out,” he rushed out.

“Okay, uh, okay,” you nodded. “Meet us there.”

You brought Sam up to speed on the conversation you’d had with Dean, and as night fell, he sped to the phone company.

***

Despite calling Dean several times, you and Sam had to keep moving forward with the case. You watched as the man Sam described to you as Stewie unlocked his car. Silently, you rushed him with a metal spike. You shoved him down onto the car and held a metal spike to the back of his neck.

Stewie grunted. “What the hell?!”

“I know what you are,” you spat. “And I know how to kill you.”

“Wait, wait— Please! If we're overcharging you for the call waiting or something I- I can fix that. I am your friend!” he stammered.

Confusion overtook you, and you turned to an equally confused Sam. You suddenly noticed a man standing behind him with a bat. “Sam, look out!” you cried.

But it was too late. He was hit over the head with a bat, and you released the man in front of you. You threw your spike at him, but he caught it just before it hit him. He stalked toward you, and the man smiled widely. The man you’d been holding down shoved you to the ground from behind, and you were knocked out, too.

***

When you next came to, your wrists and feet were bound; that was the first thing you felt. Your head pounded, and your wrists ached from how tight the bindings were. When you opened your eyes, you turned your head to see Stewie was dead and bleeding profusely from his chest.

You shrieked in horror, and then, the man who’d knocked you out appeared in front of you. “The fuck is wrong with you?!” you snarled.

He just laughed mockingly as he stalked between you and Sam.

You realized something. “My last call with Dean. That was you. You led us here.”

“Some calls I make, some calls I take, but you have to admit, I had you fooled for a while. All that Edison phone crap,” he chuckled. He moved over to a telephone exchange cabinet and sighed in ecstasy.

“What are you doing?” Sam asked.

“I’m killing your brother,” he smiled. “Or maybe I'm killing another guy. We'll just have to see how it goes.”

***

The creature removed the knife from the chest of the man beside you. You grimaced at the wet squelching sound it made as he did.

“Y’know, mimicking Dean's one thing. But my Dad?” Sam complimented mockingly. “That's a hell of a trick.”

“Well, once I made you two as hunters, it was easy. I found Dean's number, then your number, then your father's numbers. Then, emails, voicemails, everything. You see, people think that stuff just gets erased, but it doesn't. You'd be surprised how much of yourself is just floating out there, waiting to be plucked,” the creature grinned.

“Dean’s not an idiot,” you stated sharply. “He’s not gonna kill that guy.”

“Then the guy kills him,” he shrugged. “And I kill you two. And here I thought I was only getting one hunter.” He stalked toward you, and you struggled harder. “Now, I’ve got another. And a pretty one, at that.”

You reared back and spat in his face. Almost like a reflex, he immediately backslapped you.

Unfazed, your head returned to a neutral position and you just glared at him.

“I’m gonna enjoy this,” he said, tracing the knife down your cheek. “Technology. Makes life so much easier. Used to be, I'd hide in the woods for days, weeks, whispering to people, trying to draw them out into the night. But they had community, they all looked out for each other, I'd be lucky to eat one or two souls a year. Now when I'm hungry, I simply make a phone call. You're all so connected. But you've never been so alone.”

Just as the man’s jaw unhinged like a snake to reveal rows of teeth, Sam came up behind him and wrapped his arms around his neck in a chokehold. You sat patiently while Sam and the crocatta struggled for the knife. You watched both men slam each other into various surfaces until they disappeared from view.

You couldn’t do anything to help yourself, and you anxiously waited for— hopefully— Sam’s return into the room.

Much to your relief, Sam stumbled back in minutes later. You grinned up at him happily.

***

You were the one to drive Sam’s rental car back to the motel seeing as he was injured and sore from his fight with the monster. You went at least twenty miles-an-hour over the speed limit for the entirety of the drive.

You burst into Sam and Dean’s room, and you began to panic when you didn’t see him there.

Then, you checked your room, breathing out in relief when you saw Dean holding a wash cloth to his eye. “Dean!” You ran to him, kneeling down in front of him.

He looked up at you, and you immediately kissed him passionately. He returned your kiss eagerly. When you broke away from him, you took the cloth from Dean’s hands gently to help him clean the wound.

“Sweetheart,” he said. “I— I’m so sorry.”

You placed your free hand on his knee. “We’ll talk in a minute, alright? Let me clean you up first.”

He nodded.

***

“There,” you told him having placed the final bandage on his assortment of cuts. “That guy kicked the shit out of you.” Although Dean would normally laugh at jokes like that, his countenance was completely serious. “I’m so sorry,” he repeated.

“I know,” you said softly. “I am, too.”

“I just— I lashed out, and that wasn’t fair to you. You were right,” Dean admitted. “It scares me how well you can fuckin’ read me. And with everything going on, I just—”

“I get it,” you cut him off. “I’m sorry, too. I was being petty. I got mean, too.” You paused for a moment. “I’m sorry it wasn’t really your dad.”

Dean looked down at the ground. “Naw, I gave you a hell of a time on this one.” He huffed. “I wanted to believe so badly that there was a way outta this. I mean, I'm staring down the barrel at this thing. You know, Hell. For real, forever, and I just…” he trailed off, unable to finish.

Your eyebrows scrunched sadly, and your eyelashes flickered.

“I’m scared, sweetheart. I’m… I’m really scared.” As tears pooled in his eyes, he couldn’t seem to meet yours.

You nodded, tearing up as well. “I know.”

“I guess I was willing to believe anything. You know, the last act of a desperate man,” he tried to joke through his stifled cries.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but there’s nothing wrong with having hope, Dee,” you told him gently.

“Hope doesn't get you jack squat,” he scoffed. “I can't expect Dad to show up with some miracle at the last minute. I can't expect anybody to, y’know? I mean, the only person that can get me out of this thing is me.”

“And I’m right there with you,” you told him. “Every step of the way. To Hell and back.”

Dean offered a lopsided smile. “To Hell and back.”

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

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

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penelopepine · 10 months ago

Text

Little Purple Stars

Part 1 Part 2

Ghost x FemReader x Soap

Content: Soulmate AU, fluff, no angst

Everyone had a soulmate; whether that connection was platonic or romantic was entirely up to those involved. Some people even had multiple soulmates, like you did, which wasn’t that uncommon. It happens whenever a person turns 20 yrs old. They are suddenly able to draw on themselves, and have the picture appear on the skin of your soulmate.

You had two soulmates; one of them rarely ever drew on themselves, and if they did it was only with a black pen. Usually said drawing would also be a little black heart next to something that you or your other soulmate drew. You’ve always called this soulmate, Moon.

On the other hand soulmate number two, or Sun as you called them, was much more open and was constantly drawing little doodles all over themselves.

Sun and Moon; basic maybe, but you’ve always felt that it fits them perfectly.

It was your third time entering the Olympics and you couldn’t be more excited. You’re first year you unfortunately didn’t place, second year you won the bronze, and this year you were aiming for the gold. Most of all though, win or lose you hoped that by the end of today you will have made contact with your soulmates.

While getting ready for today you had drawn little stars in various shades of purple around your eyes, making them resemble freckles. Drawing on your face was generally frowned upon, but when events that are going to be televised all around the world exceptions are made.

You tried to give them a hint to watch the Olympics today by drawing the Olympics rings and a TV, but realistically you knew there was no way they could watch the entirety of the broadcast. Even if they did turn it on they could very easily miss your appearance. The only thing you could do now was hope that the two individuals with matching purple stars were watching.

Ghost watched as every little star slowly appeared on Soap's face knowing that his face looked the same only that the stars on his face were covered by the mask. It wasn’t until Gaz walked in the office as well and asked about them did Soap even know they were there.

“What do you mean I have stars?”

“Yeah on your face,” Gaz pulls out his phone and quickly takes a photo before showing it to the Scot.

“You knew they were there and you weren’t going to say anything?” Soap turns to face Ghost with a playful grin, “Well now you gotta take off the mask; I can’t be the only one walking around here with star freckles.”

“In your dreams MacTavish.”

Gaz chuckles at the two of them before he sits down in an empty seat, “So I know you didn’t do this,” pointing to Soap, “and you definitely didn’t do this. Can I ask why lucky number three decided to do this?” Directing his question towards the lieutenant.

“I assume it has something to do with the Olympics.”

“Aye, they drew that symbol yesterday didn’t they. I guess that was their way of giving us a warning for this; must be for some kind of watch party,” Soap guessed.

“Sounds like my kind of party, the ice skaters are performing in just a bit and I don’t plan to miss it.” Gaz holds his phone showing them the Olympic broadcast already up on his phone before popping in one of his earbuds.

“I didn’t take you for someone who would enjoy watching figure skating; all it is is watching people move on the ice innit?” Ghost questions, he’s never had any interest in the Olympics before. It was never something he had time to sit down and watch.

“We can go to an ice skating rink ourselves, and watch Soap try to skate if you want to watch more chaotic skating.”

“Oi, I didn’t even say anything, don’t go dragging me into this!”

“You were gonna say something and that’s enough for me!”

“Yeah yeah whatever,” Soap turns back to the paperwork he had been working on, “I’d like to see you try and skate. Let’s see who’s laughing then.”

The men chuckle to themselves and all of them focus on items in their hands. It wouldn’t be until an hour had passed that the silence amongst them was broken.

Gaz’s sudden gasp drew both Ghost and Soap’s attention to him.

“What happened mate; a skater fell down?” Ghost asks with slight amusement in his voice. He couldn’t imagine himself getting this worked up over anything as simple as ice skating. Continuing to watch as Gaz doesn’t say anything; simply sitting in his seat with his mouth slightly hung open.

“Gaz?” Soap questions as he steps towards him.

Very suddenly Gaz shoots up and steps towards him as well, grabbing Soap’s face once he is close enough. Holding up his phone and looking frantically between the two.

“Aye, wha’ the fuck do you think you’re doing!” Soap swats Gaz’s hand away from his face, “Didn’t your mum ever teach you about personal space.”

“Look!”

Soap focusing on Gaz’s phone to see what had the man so worked up. On the screen was a woman dressed in purple elegantly dancing on the ice, but what really caught his attention was the fact that she too had purple star freckles on her face; ones that matched his perfectly. “Oh fuck; Ghost!”

Ghost couldn’t believe what he was seeing for a moment. They had finally found their missing piece. Watching her dance and spin on ice he suddenly understood why people would enjoy watching this. She looks ethereal.

Looking at Soap he sees an awestruck look in his eyes. He won’t admit but the stars are quite cute on him; on both of them. How on earth did he end up with these two incredibly beautiful and talented people as his soulmates?

Later all three men are huddled together over the phone watching the award ceremony. The room had gotten embarrassingly loud when it became clear that you had won; Price had charged into the room asking them what had them all yelling for. He had luckily understood when the situation was explained by a sheepish soap, who was definitely making the most noise out of everyone. He was quick to get his energy back though once Price had left the room.

“We have to let the lass know we know we saw her!” Soap rushes to the desk pulling out multi colored pens; waving them towards Ghost.

You had done it! You had really done it; the gold was yours! Standing on the first place podium next to the other medalist you couldn’t help but wonder if your soulmates are watching you. You hope they were proud of you if they had seen your performance.

Trying to subtly check any exposed skin for any kind of sign or acknowledgement that you had been seen, and to your great delight you had been. The sun and moon had found their star.

There on your wrist was a drawing of a gold medal and right next to it was a little black heart.

They had seen you, they knew who you were. That thought both excited and terrified you. The only thing to do now was wait for them to show themselves; to find you.

Stepping down from the podium, and making your way off the ice you give your wrist a kiss and wave towards the cameras.

#simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #soap x reader #ghost x reader x soap #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #kyle gaz garrick #x reader #fem reader #soulmates #john soap mctavish x reader

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creepzkilla · 2 years ago

Note

No because those EJ headcannons 😳 are so good aldhworjeoejekr you wrote him so perfectly 😫

If it's ok, can I request some NSFW Creepypasta Toby headcannons? You can make them as dark as you like, but DAMN I have to admit the way you write characters is so gooooodddd 💖💖💖

↳˳⸙;; ❝ TICCI TOBY KINK HC'S! + BONUS ᵕ̈ ೫˚∗

[A/N]--tyty i always enjoy slasher creepypasta-- the more realistic version of the fandom. its always been more entertaining for me... the mansion kinda HC never really stuck with me unless portrayed really good? its so hard to find fics that are like that... but anyways wtf my first ask this deserves a bonus smut at the end?!?!?! sry for the delay too i’ve had writers block wtf… the second half is shit ngl

NSFW. warning— NOT PROOF READ fem! anatomy, dub-con, somnophilia, toby being a perv, sadist, bondage,breeding, exhibition

TOBY IS A CLOSET PERVERT--

he remembers when he first started stalking you. when he first snuck into your house while you were fast asleep as he kept a watchful eye over your sleeping form. you were ethereal, he couldn't help himself following you home- or going through your panty drawer. you couldn't blame him, really, you couldn't. you look so cute in your satin pink thongs that he just had to steal one. or three.

sadist-- toby just adores watching you contort underneath his touch as you squirm away from him. he won't hesitate to leave harsh slaps across the meat of your ass or dark bruises made from his belt into makeshift handcuffs

bondage-- he loves tying you up in all sorts of different lewd positions. toby takes pride watching you whimper under his calloused hands begging for your hands and/or legs. he knows that those whimpers are only for him.

breeding-- toby has family issues... at first, he wouldn't want kids. he would dismiss the thought of ever having any kids in the first place... not wanting to turn into his dad. he was terrified. that was until he came in your pussy the first time. it was fucking life-changing. he loves the feeling of spilling his seed into your pretty pussy... he just can't go back after that. why buy condoms when he could watch his cum seep out of your pussy? he wouldn't mind having a kid or two.

mutual masturbation-- he goes wild watching your hands disappear into your heat as your mouth lets out a barrage of whimpers and moans. toby can't help but join in. whether you know if he's watching or not.

exhibitism-- this man just dont give af. if he wants you, he wants you. anytime, anyplace.

oral(fem receiving)-- this could be considered a kink because toby could probably cum buy just eating your pussy. he just cant get enough of it. he gets so painfully hard when he goes down on you. so you cant blame him when he paints his pants white.

corruption— this is a big one..you were a virgin, with little to no experience before you bet toby. something about that innocence he just had to protect… something he just had to corrupt. toby remembers when he first taught you how to give a blowjob. he could just cum by the perverted memory.

TOBY DEFINITELY JERKS OFF WITH YOUR PANTIES—

there’s no way he doesn’t. he fucking obsessed with the taste and smell of your pussy. the nights where he can’t come and visit you bet you can find a pair of your satin panties wrapped around his cock. toby just can’t help himself. he loves feeling the feeling of your juices rubbing up against his cock as he imagines runtting against you. it’s his dirty little secret… well it’s not much of a secret when your prairies start showing up stained with a white excrete.

HES SURPRISINGLY KINDA BIG—

now don’t get me wrong… toby isn’t a petite guy, he’s rather tall standing at 5’11 or 6’0. he’s a pretty built guy—he kinda has to be. so when i say surprisingly i mean you wouldn’t really except him to be a whopping 6’0 inches. his girth is on the skinny size but he makes up for it when hes hitting places you never knew existed. his tip is a dark pink, and the prettiest dick you’ve ever seen. you never thought that you’d be saying that about a dick or specifically a serial killers dick; but here you are… your not exactly complaining.

—-ˋˏ [‘Ill give you everything’] ˎˊ

—(Toby couldn’t help himself. He really couldnt. You just looked so gorgeous in your pink satin panties— which are your favorite pair— he couldn’t help but rub against the cotton material. It’s not like you’d mind anyways…you’ve always asked him to fuck you awake before, why not take you up on that offer?

He carefully moves the comforter from your shoulders, peeling it back allowing him to slip into your bed behind you . Toby sinks into the bed, spooning your relaxed body as the curve of your ass pressed into him.Almost instinctively your body pressed into the slasher completely, being enraptured by his warmth. You were oblivious to what you were doing to him.

His aching boner stretched against his pants, and fuck it was painful (from aching not actual pain) as he rubs up against your panties. It was almost like you wanted him to do this. Sleeping in only your underwear? It was like you’re asking him to move your panties to the side and fuck you.

His cold finger tips brush against your damp panties, hooking his finger on the seam of fabric, slowly and carefully pulling them down. toby was careful not to wake you—-not yet. He wants to savor this.

It was so unbelievably hot in your bedroom, almost like a sauna. If anything he was helping you cool down. You should appreciate his kind and just actions by taking of your clothes before you got too hot. He chuckled at that thought, ghosting his finger tips over your exposed shoulder, leaving goosebumps in his wake.

His lips hovered above your exposed neck, sending chills down your spine. Dark bruises soon began to litter your neck, ruining its once pristine image as Toby sunk his lips deeper in your skin, all while his other hand disappeared into your cunt.

You were so incredibly wet, so incredibly tight. His calloused hands slid in and out with ease, your walls sucking him in ever time. Toby was enraptured with your beauty, your flushed cheeks, your rosy lips, the soft whimpers that left your mouth; utterly gorgeous.

“Toby?” You awoke to nothing but darkness with an uncomfortable feeling in your stomach, an all too familiar one. A warmth spread throughout your body like wildfire as the prevalent feelings grew. The sensation— that you couldn’t put a finger on—- just felt so good, you couldn’t help but melt into it.

Toby hummed in response, too busy on concentrating on the task at hand; fingering your tight cunt. The lewd sounds that gushed around his hands was deafening; almost forgetting that you were awake.

“Are you e-enjoying yours-self?” He laughed, curling his fingers inside of you, rubbing up against a patch of sensitive nerves.

You yelped, now being fully awake, clearly aware of the sensation— that is being full. You could only moan in response as his fingers continuously plunged in and out of sopping cunt as your core tightened.

Toby’s lips attached to the crook of your neck once again, tracing over the dark bruises that began to form— biting ever so slightly on your sweet spot (that only he knows of). His unoccupied hand, cupped the meat of your thigh, lifting it up to gain better access for his other hand that was moving at an insatiable speed.

“P…Please, I need you…I want all of you.” A barrage of moans left your lips, as your hand curled behind you to grip the man’s hair that assaulted your skin. Your sharp nails dug into his scalp, tugging on tuffs of his unkept brown hair—signaling your desperation.

Suddenly, he was on top of you. Straddling your exposed bottom half with his thighs, a lustful glint ever so present in his eyes. His lips were a cherry red, presumably from his attack on your neck as well as his hands that were slick with your cunt. You take immediate notice of the large tent swelling in his blue jeans, you could only guess at how painful it was.

“A-are you sure?” Toby hummed, his scarred hands tracing over your waist, “I’m not g-gonna go easy on you.” His voice came out as a whisper, as if it was some horrible secret—a taboo. To which it was, not like you knew or anything— but toby has a secret, commmited horrible sins that can never be reversed— you shouldn’t be doing this with him… He feels guilty almost— yet it’s so enticing… His hands devouring your body as if his hands weren’t covered in blood merely hours before.

But you’ll never know, right?

“I want all of you, Toby.” He looks down at your delicate form, such innocence. Your skin was practically glowing in the moonlight that shone threw the raked blinds, making you look almost angelic. He was scared to touch you, like you would crumble under his touch. Like you would see him for the monster— the pyschopath he truly is, a devil.

Yet, that’s what makes it so exciting, so enticing to see your angelic body beneath him. The danger, the corruption. It only added fuel to the fire, and soon it would become a wild fire.

Your body; merely heaven and earth wrapped into one.

He; the virus, a plague that never stops— pollution your body and everything in between.

Is it really worth it? If he really loved you— he would let you go— right?

“I’ll give you ev-verything. Anything you w-want.” Toby whispers, his hands on your waist crawling towards your chest—drawing secret messages that only you would know. His usual ice cold hands, were anything but cold. They were warm. His hands roamed your body, and spread throughout your body like a flame— he devoured everything in his path.

Your body reacted to him like a magnetic. His name fell off of your lips along with whispered promises and wonton moans. You were meant for him— maybe poisoning you isn’t so bad. Maybe—just maybe, it was meant to happen.

#creepypasta #creepypasta fanart #creepypasta art #creepypasta x female reader #ticci toby x reader #creepypasta toby #toby rodgers x reader #toby rogers #ticci toby #toby rogers x reader #creepypasta smut #creepypasta hcs #creepypasts x reader #creepypasta x reader #creepy

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ryulvrs · 11 months ago

Text

more than a game (hwang yeji, smut)

summary: you have a thing for yeji’s thighs as she rides an arcade motorcycle

warnings: dom!yeji, sub!f!reader, degradation, thigh riding (yeji receiving), finger fucking, overuse of “baby” petname

word count: 964

a/n: a little short and not my best since its been a bit! but omg yeji 😵‍💫😵‍💫

you weren’t sure why exactly you had a thing for the lower part of your girlfriend’s body. more specifically, her thighs. something about the way her clothes would tug on her skin differently or how she knew just how to use them had you in a complete frenzy.

however, combining your lustful kink and an arcade game that especially drew your eyes even more to them was a dangerous combination.

you thought your date that day with your girlfriend, yeji, would be innocent and playful. but after she sat on top of the motorcycle for the game, you couldn’t help but watch as she rode it according to the race she played.

“are you okay, baby?” she turns her head briefly midgame to look at you. you have been silent the whole round, completely taken in by her body.

“of course, have you won yet?” you respond as calmly as you could fake. you should’ve known though, that yeji could read right through your act.

the machine dings a few times before flashing the word ‘winner’ on the screen. “good job!” you say going up to her to hug her while she was still sat on the motorcycle, with your hand laying at about her waist.

her hand slowly leaves the steering wheel and trails up to your hand. she rubs her thumb sensually onto you. “why so quiet?” she says, and you can practically feel her lips curl into a smirk.

without letting you answer, she gets off the motorcycle and her face finally meets yours. she leans closer to you, and for a brief second, you felt a rush of hot air surrounding you.

she plants a kiss on your cheek, and whispers just loudly enough that you could hear, “did you like that, y/n?”

you didn’t know how to respond, or more realistically, you couldn’t respond. she saw how red your face got so quickly and took that as her answer. in one motion, she takes your hand and leads you out the arcade. as fast as you left, you were swiftly in her car again.

“go ahead baby, touch my thigh,” she says confidently at you.

despite how nervous you were inside, you’ve been wanting this for a while. so, you swallowed the anxiousness down and moved your hand closer to her. you softly place it closer to her knee. “is this okay?” you ask.

“you can go farther,” she says, putting her hand ontop of yours to move both hands closer to her waist instead of her knee. you allowed yourself to hold the inner part just a few inches away from her panties.

“this okay?” you ask once more. she nods and reaches to start the car but based off the needy look you had written all over your face, she pulls away and turns her attention fully to you.

instead of reaching to your hand to guide it, she grasps it and swiftly pulls you into the back of your car.

without a second thought, yeji wraps her arms around you, with her hands landing on your uncovered waist. the mutual desperation between you both fills the car.

she tugs on your pants’ waistband and pull away from the kiss to make sure its okay for her to continue. you nod, and she slips them off along with your panties.

“ride my thigh, baby,” she groans out and positions you onto her thigh. your core was practically dripping onto her. you push the rim of her skirt up and hold her back for support.

you slowly begin to move your hips up and down her thigh at a steady pace. you watch as her head falls back slowly against the car window. yeji moves her hands so that one finger brushes against your fold.

“don’t stop, keep going for me,” she says with her hand positioned so that every bit you moved would rub her fingers on your clit. you needed her to push them further in you, but yet the teasing turned you on.

“i need more…” you whimper out looking at her desperately. she smirks at you, and guides your body to laying back on the seat.

“be good for me,” she says as she suddenly pushes a finger into you. you moan almost instantaneously and you can tell she enjoys hearing you. her thumb guides her finger to go in and out of you at a decent pace.

whilst maintaining this, she kisses down your neck leaving pretty lipstick marks. she could tell you were needy for more, so she puts another finger in and increases the speed.

your whimpers become strong moans from her fingers curling inside of you. she’d pull her fingers just far enough out that she would get that needy whine out of you, so she could slam back in just to hear your cries.

your fluids coat her fingers as your stomach feels even more tight. the windows in the car steam up as you moan from your beautiful girlfriend. her fingers get faster once more, and you feel your lower body practically shaking.

“look how slutty you are just from my thighs, hm?” she degrades you lovingly. that was all you needed for the knot in you to fully wind up.

she fingers you as you reach your climax, and you feel your whole body release at once. she slaps your pretty pussy and kisses your exhausted face.

she can’t help but just pull you so close to her immediately. “you’re okay, baby?” she asks and kisses your face all over. you nod, smile at her, and lay your head in the crook of her neck.

she plants a kiss on your forehead and tightly hugs you once more. what crazy things thighs can do to you.

#gg smut #itzy smut #itzy x reader #itzy imagines #itzy x you #itzy x yn #itzy x fem reader #yeji smut #yeji x reader #yeji x you #wlw #itzy fanfic #itzy scenarios #itzy drabbles #itzy headcanons #itzy hard hours #hwang yeji x reader #gg x reader

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kaiserposting · 9 months ago

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Michael Kaiser, Alexis Ness — Dick Measuring

PAIRING: Michael Kaiser/Reader/Alexis Ness WORD COUNT: 0.8k TYPE: Humor, Drabble WARNING(S): This is literall y just one giant dick joke help NOTE: If you wanna see the rest of the horrible not-polycule series it's at the bottom of the masterlist

While scrolling through your phone at a ferocious speed with a manic grin, you turn to Ness and announce, “Look, over 500 thousand tweets mentioning my name. The viewers are all up on my cock now.”

He glances at you in disdain, which is hard to pull off with his cutesy face. Somehow he manages it though each time you two converse. In a judgemental tone, he asks, “Are you seriously name searching yourself?” Sure, he knows Kaiser does it too, but you’re not Kaiser so that shit doesn’t fly.

“Yeah. Check it out, someone made a compilation of me owning Kaiser. With filters.” You flash the screen at them both to show it off.

Kaiser spares it a dismissive glance, mind lost somewhere else.

“Give me that,” says Ness. Then he grabs the device out of your grasp and squints at the screen, memorizing the username.

“Don’t tell me you’ll mass report their account for that?”

“I won’t,” he lies, smiling at you before giving you back your phone as if he didn’t snatch it away in the first place.

“You’re doing full splits on it. Like, you could be, like, a gymnast.”

“W-Well, so what?! There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“So they’re all up on your cock huh?” Kaiser asks. The smug expression he’s making right now, you get the inkling he’s about to say something terrible. And he delivers as per your expectation: “I bet mine’s bigger.”

You raise a skeptical eyebrow at that, this judgmental expression on your face.

Ness nods, still seeming pleasant. “It probably is.”

“Bragging on another man’s dick size is crazy.”

“It’s not crazy! I’m speaking realistically.”

“Well,” says Kaiser, annoyed at having to wrestle with Ness for your attention all the time when Ness is supposed to be helping him score you, “there’s only one way to find out. We should both get naked and check.”

Your stare switches from unimpressed to blank. Vacant of any signs of life. Even Ness scrunches his eyebrows and appears slightly aghast at the suggestion, which is how you know it’s egregious for sure. Wow, this has to be his most desperate attempt at flirting to date. What’s making it worse is the fact that he’s not even reacting to your collective puzzlement with the whole thing.

Once you regain enough sense to respond, you say, “Thanks, but no thanks. You know I’m not interested in the small things in life, Kaiser.”

This also snaps Ness out of his trance as he is now offended, though he graciously spares you of any further embarrassing commentary, settling for glaring.

“Wanna compare just to make sure?”

Your lips quirk up. “Here’s my list of things I’ll never let near my nether regions: police officers, male photographers, multi level marketers, politicians, Michael Kaiser.”

“Aww, why? You’re no fun,” Kaiser coos at you mockingly.

“I bet you have the funniest penis ever.”

“No, he doesn’t!” Ness interjects while Kaiser merely tilts his head to the side, awaiting elaboration on this statement.

“Like you were probably uncircumcised when you were little and then you grew up and got a circumcision for aesthetic purposes or something else hilarious like that,” you say.

“What?” He crosses his arms and scoffs at the notion. “Ok now I’m convinced you’re just stupid. What a hauntingly dimwitted concept to come up with.” Then he smirks at you again, straightening his back and raising his eyebrows. “But, again, if you wanna make sure that there’s nothing wrong with it, the offer still stands.”

“Listen here. If you say anything along these lines to me ever again, something’s gonna happen.”

“Oh really?” Kaiser gets all up in your face. He remains amused. “And what’s going to happen?”

“I’ll send you to where Shinzo Abe is.”

He blinks at you for a second while Ness is mumbling incomprehensible threats in the background. Then he smiles at you before leaning back to a more socially appropriate distance. “Alright, I admit, I appreciate this one out of all your little retorts.”

“I think you love any words I waste on you. Attention whore. Anyway, I’ll go work out in one of the training rooms with the cameras for fanservice, so I’m leaving.” You pass by Kaiser and stop in front of Ness, puckering your lips in an exaggerated manner, blowing him a kiss. “Bye bye, Ness.”

He blushes and crosses his arms while pouting, pretending he totally didn’t enjoy that as you walk off. Kaiser gives him a scornful look.

Ness remembers the whole conversation which ensued. “I’m sure it’s big and nice,” he reassures rather clinically, the way one would share an interesting fact. It doesn't occur to him what an odd remark he’s making.

“Thanks. You always know the right things to say.” Kaiser pats Ness gently on the head like the dog slash servant he is, perhaps to encourage the behavior through positive reinforcement. He basks in the feeling, warm, and almost forgets about the context of this action. But because Ness can’t have anything good ever, after a while Kaiser adds, “I wish someone I was actually into would talk to me like you do too though.”

___

Yea I haven't slept in 5 days again how can yo utell

#michael kaiser x reader #alexis ness x reader #kaiser x reader #ness x reader #blue lock x reader #blue lock x you #I finished this yesterday or I guess at like past midnight but I was so fucking out of it didnt botehr uploading

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whereianonymouslypostfics · 2 months ago

Text

Delusions

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x reader

Word count: ~5.4k

Summary: A familiar proposal is not what it seems

A/N: Realized that there isn't enough...angst

Warnings: angst, violence, blood, foul language, hurt/comfort

You sigh heavily as you escape to the treatment area that’s still hectic despite the beginning of the lunch hour having long passed. You aren’t sure how you got so behind this morning with appointments, but you still have two here that will likely bleed into the afternoon. You’ve figured out a plan for one of them, but you needed to talk to your technician first.

A few minutes later you’re back in the exam room with a treatment plan that you hope this owner agrees with. The reason why you’ve been so delayed is due in part to the fact that this man couldn’t make up his damn mind. It wasn’t even just the indecision that bothered you, mostly because it slowed you down, but the fact that he wanted to know every possible outcome of his dog’s problem just wasn’t realistic.

You’d walked back into the room planning to shut down any attempt to start with the hypothetical questions again, but he’d surprised you in a way that unfortunately rendered you speechless for entirely too long.

“What did you just say?”

You know what he said. Honestly. That said, you needed to be sure before you went off on him, and you needed the extra few seconds to figure out how to do it in a way that wouldn’t cost you your job.

The brunette who was probably older than you by a decade simply smiles before repeating himself. You’re already tense but hearing him proposition you again makes you want to slap him. It’s not as if the rings on your finger aren’t obvious.

“I said that I’d like to take you out for drinks. You’re beautiful, surprisingly smart, and I’d love to get to know you better.”

You don’t even know what to do with the backhanded compliment, but you just shake your head before shooting him a serious look that doesn’t dim his smile in the slightest. Damn.

“I’m sorry.”

You’re not. You’re not sure why you felt the need to say that. Probably your damn customer service experience.

“But that’s not going to happen. Not only is it completely inappropriate because I’m your vet, but I’m happily married and not interested.”

You stopped yourself short of saying ‘in anything you might have to offer’ because that seemed rude, but shit, you are reeling from this proposal. You’d been trying to figure out how to get him to agree to hospitalizing his dog with a foreign body, which he did, but he just couldn’t stop there apparently.

You wait tense and more than a little irritated when he just laughs at you with a glint in his eye that makes you steel yourself for what comes next. You contemplate just walking out, and you’ve actually turned toward the door when he speaks up. Again, his words stop you in your tracks, and you can’t keep yourself from spinning around to face him with an incredulous look.

“Oh, I’m well aware that you’re married, Doctor. Your wife is rather infamous in our shared circles.”

You have to take a couple of seconds to process this because what the hell? Was he admitting to also being a criminal? How would he have found out who you were otherwise? Honestly, you figured it was only possible due to the fact that he had people stalking your wife which freaked you out if you thought too hard about it.

You remind yourself of his name so you can tell Wanda later before you shoot him a smile. Your confidence is feigned, but you’re hoping that he doesn’t notice this.

“If that’s the case, I’m surprised you’re brave enough to ask me out knowing my wife will undoubtedly hear about this.”

He hesitates but recovers quickly as he reaches into his pocket and digs out a card. You scowl as he takes his time to write something down before he holds it out to you. You don’t want to take it, but you don’t have all day and you need to take his dog and prep him for surgery later this afternoon.

“Here, just think it over. I can offer you so much more than she can. I’ll be there from eight to midnight anyway, so it won’t be a huge loss either way.”

You can’t help but roll your eyes at this as you snatch the card away and shove it in your pocket. You don’t intend to meet him, obviously, but you want as much evidence as possible to give to your wife.

“Wow, flattery like that will get you nowhere.”

You turn to leave again, but you’re nearly hit in the face with the door when it opens suddenly. You startle but manage to hold in your curse when you see a harried technician in the doorway.

“Oh sorry, Dr. Y/l/n! We need you in treatment, it’s urgent.”

You don’t look back at as you follow the blonde to treatment. You try to forget about what happened because you’re only halfway through your day, and you can’t afford to be distracted. You try not to sigh in exhaustion as you think about how hectic the rest of your day is going to be because of this. You’re going to squeeze in a surgery and hopefully send him home by the time you close.

After all, you don’t want your client to miss the opportunity to be stood up by you.

Wanda’s surprised to arrive to an empty house at a little past 8pm. She checks her phone only to see that you haven’t texted or called. This is rare and she realizes you’ve either had a chaotic day, or something was wrong.

She doesn’t get to worry much; however, because after kneeling down to greet her cat, she hears the garage door open behind her. She smiles before turning back around to open the mudroom door to greet you. She’s not surprised to see that you look exhausted as you shut off your car and practically fall out of it.

“Wands, hey. You beat me home.”

You greet her with a kiss before grabbing your things and following her inside. You’re so exhausted you could fall asleep on the couch, but the fact that you have to tell your wife what happened keeps you standing. Wanda smiles at you as she grabs your hands and shoots you a questioning look. You’re far more tired than she initially thought, and she reaches out for you as your eyelids flutter closed.

“How was your day, detka? Busy?”

You nod before stifling a yawn in the palm of your hand. You shake your head in an attempt to wake yourself up, but it doesn’t do much good. You put your bag on one of the chairs at the counter, and throw your coat over it with a sigh.

“It was. I didn’t get a second to breathe which is why I forgot to let you know I was going to be late. I’m sorry.”

Wanda shakes her head before she reaches out for your stiff shoulders. She smiles when you groan as she starts to rub the tense muscles under her fingers. You close your eyes and bask in the attention before your wife reminds you of the less than pleasant task you need to get over with.

“It’s okay, I get it. Did everything work out?”

Initially, Wanda can’t tell if your hesitation is due to her impromptu massage, but when you open your eyes to meet hers and only sigh, she realizes there’s something else on your mind. You nod in confirmation before stepping away so you can grab the business card that you’d kept in your coat all afternoon. You didn’t want to put it down where someone would find it, but you also didn’t want to lose it. The name on it was important.

You have to resist the urge to gag at the reminder of the look Neil shot you when he came to pick up his dog.

“Yeah, it did. Everyone lived and went home.”

Wanda nods, but her gaze has dropped to the card that you’re passing between your hands nervously. She can see it’s a dark red business card, but that’s it.

She’s about to ask when you finally speak up.

“That said, there’s something I need to tell you.”

You and Wanda end up sitting at the counter as you tell her about your odd, disconcerting experience this afternoon. You watch as your wife transitions from annoyed to confused to irate in a matter of minutes. She glances to the card that she’d set between the two of you with a scowl. The utter gall of this man to proposition you at work, and ask you to meet him at one of her clubs of all places. She didn’t have to tell you what she planned to do for you to have a pretty good idea, but that didn’t stop you from worrying about her.

“Can I go with you?”

Wanda turns to you and immediately shakes her head. She hates to deny you, but when it comes to her business, she knows that it’s for the best. There’s no reason you should get involved in this.

“Absolutely not.”

You frown and open your mouth to argue, but you think better of it. You snap your mouth shut and think about what Wanda will likely do to Neil tonight. Despite the fact that they will be in a crowded club, you doubt that your wife is going to let him live, or at the very least leave unscathed. You only worry about what will happen to his dog for a moment before you realize that it probably wasn’t even his in the first place.

Wanda watches you scowl and she prepares herself for an argument, but you just shake your head. You reach out and squeeze her hand with a sigh. You really don’t want Wanda to leave for what you assume will be most of the night, but you did see this coming. You didn’t exactly think that she’d brush off Neil’s obvious insults. You knew her too well for that. You also know that this is likely about something other than you because when it comes down to it, it almost always is when your wife is mentioned.

Sure you’ve been hit on in the past by people who were clueless about your relationship, but you could usually tell when they weren’t. They had a particular air to them, and you could always tell that they were after something other than what they claimed.

You lean forward to kiss your wife’s cheek with another sigh. You glance at the clock and decide that you’ll try to make it an early night. As long as your anxiety about what your wife was up to didn’t stop you of course.

“Alright, Wands. Be careful? I love you.”

Wanda just smiles at you before she meets your lips with a hum. Her mind is already on a plan for the next few hours, but as she sits back in her seat and looks at you, she decides she’s not going to leave yet. She’s going to text Steve so he knows how to prepare, but first, Wanda’s going to make sure you eat something.

“I love you too. Now let’s get you fed. I’m sure you’re starving.”

Neil sighs as he places his empty glass down on the table beside his first. He glances at his expensive watch and scowls when he realizes it’s nearly 11. He had been waiting for nearly three hours for his guest, and he was getting impatient.

He wasn’t foolish enough to truly think that you would show up. No, if you told your wife about his proposal, as he’d expected, he would be graced with the redhead’s presence tonight as planned. It had certainly been a risk approaching you the way he had, but he was hoping that it paid off. Certainly, choosing this place to meet in was a bigger risk considering the amount of preparation that was involved.

He’d wanted to meet on Wanda’s turf so she’d be lured into a false sense of security. His assignment was straightforward, and he was hoping that tonight would be the night he would complete it. He raised his hand for another drink before realizing that he should probably stop. He wanted to keep his wits when facing his opponent after all.

It was almost midnight when Wanda finally arrived at her club. She’d taken more time at home than she planned, but she honestly didn’t care about being on time tonight. She had cared more about spending time with you before she had to get ready to face Neil.

She’d heard his name before and knew who he worked for, but she couldn’t figure out what exactly he wanted from her. The farthest she’d gotten was to conclude that it was likely something she wasn’t willing to give.

After talking with Steve, she’d arranged to have Bucky stay near the house to keep an eye on you while she was gone.

She entered the club from the back as always with Steve on her heels as she made her way to her office. She passed several of her security team on the way and nodded to them as she wandered out into the VIP area.

“He’s over there. He’s about four drinks in.”

Wanda nods as she takes in the sight of the brunette sitting in a chair that gives him full view of the dance floor. There’s an empty chair beside him that she’s sure was intended for her, but she’s not going to be out in the open with him. She has other plans.

“Have Rachel bring him another drink, then tell him I’ll see him upstairs in 10.”

Steve nods before going off to talk to the bartender leaving Wanda on her own. Well, she was never really on her own when she was here, but the two guards nearby blended in with other wealthy patrons. She glanced to the upstairs VIP area that had been closed off about an hour ago for set up. She hoped that her decision to meet Neil tonight wouldn’t bite her in the ass.

Neil’s only had a few sips of his newest drink when a familiar face appears in front of him. He frowns at the sight of the blonde before he shakes his head with a laugh.

“Well, if it isn’t Wanda Maximoff’s errand boy. I guess she decided to show after all.”

Steve only frowns at him before delivering Wanda’s message with a pointed look. They both glance up to where Neil’s going to have to be in just a few minutes, and the brunette’s smile widens when he spots Wanda watching him.

He sighs heavily as he drains the rest of his drink before standing up. He’s not the least bit wobbly as he raises his empty glass up toward the redhead who’s glaring at him now.

“I suppose I shouldn’t keep the lady waiting.”

Steve says nothing as he follows Neil up the stairs after he’d gotten a sixth drink. The redhead is sitting in a booth along the far wall by the time they arrive. She has her own drink and she watches him carefully as he strides over to her with a smug grin.

“If I’d known it was this easy to get a meeting with you, I would have resorted to flirting with your wife years ago.”

Wanda, unsurprisingly, only scowls at him when he says this and waits until he’s slid into his seat across from her. She takes a moment to shake off her anger before she shoots him a menacing look.

“I have to admit it’s not every day that someone tries to fuck my wife right under my nose. Then again, that’s not really what you were after, was it?”

Wanda waits as Neil leers at her in a way that tells her exactly what’s on his mind. She clenches the fist that’s in her lap before she takes a sip of her drink to try and focus on something other than the brunette’s smug face. She takes a breath in anticipation of whatever disgusting thing he’s about to say.

“Although I have to admit she’s quite the looker, you’re right. I didn’t do all of this just to get my dick wet. There was a higher purpose to getting you here.”

Wanda grits her teeth at his words but doesn’t have time to do much else before he throws what remains of his drink in her face. She hisses and instinctively closes her eyes as she reaches for the knife that she’d stashed under the table. She opens her eyes just in time to see Neil dive forward and reach for her, and she brings the blade down in the middle of his hand.

“Ahh, you bitch!”

Wanda leans forward to grab the back of Neil’s head and slams his face into the table. He’s temporarily stunned and it gives Wanda enough time to yank the knife out of his hand before using it to slit his throat. She ignores the gurgling noises and the growing puddle of blood as she jumps to her feet. She turns toward the sound of gunfire. It’s muffled by the music, but an unmistakable sound that puts the redhead on edge. She’s already drawn her gun and is taking aim when a barrage of gunfire forces her to take cover.

She curses as she dives behind the bar, her gun still clutched in her hand. She holds it up, ignoring the burning in her leg as she spots someone in a mask running toward her. She shoots them and the another before she’s able to tap the com in her ear with another curse.

“Steve where the fuck are you? Are you hit?”

When Steve had been standing guard, he’d immediately realized that something was off. He couldn’t put a name to it, but he just knew that something felt wrong. He’d only had to wait for less than a minute before he’d watched half a dozen men in masks storm the stairs. He’d only managed to shoot two before they were on top of him, and then all hell broke loose.

The blaring of the fire alarm was Wanda’s only response, and she cringed at the sound before forcing herself onto her knees. She hissed as she moved her right leg and she groaned at the sight of a slow trickle of blood coming from a wound in her calf.

“Great.”

Wanda’s about to get to stand and try to assess her odds when she hears footsteps behind her. She didn’t get a chance to turn around before something struck her hard and sent her falling onto her face. She cursed and then screamed when hands grabbed her injured leg and dragged her back from behind the bar.

She manages to turn herself over onto her back, but before she can shoot whoever’s dragging her, her gun is knocked out of her hand. She reaches for her second one and uses all her strength to kick her free leg up and into the face of the masked thug who’s still pulling her.

She groans loudly as she falls to her knees and shoots the man who knocked the gun out of her hands. The second one though is already charging her, and they grab her by the shoulders and throw her back into the bar. She hits the counter with a sickening thud, and she’s still seeing stars when something hits her across the face. She reaches back to steady herself on the bar, but she’s too dizzy and she ends up on her knees again.

“Oh, how the mighty have fallen.”

The voice is unfamiliar, but Wanda’s sure that even if she could see straight, she wouldn’t recognize them. She’s still seeing double when she’s lifted off the ground again before she’s shoved back against the bar. Her back hits the granite countertop and she curses in pain. She makes the mistake of trying to put weight on her right leg, and she nearly collapses as a result.

It’s only the rough grip that keeps her on her feet. Wanda finally sees who’s in front of her when she tries reaching for a knife at her belt. She’s thwarted though, and the woman grabs her wrist before slamming her hand into Wanda’s nose.

“Fuck!”

Wanda’s head spins and the still blaring fire alarm disorients her further. She flinches when the grip on her wrist tightens before a gun is waved in her face. She’s only seconds away from resorting to her last-ditch effort when the sprinklers start to rain down on them.

“Any last words, Maximoff?”

Wanda can think of plenty, but the sudden disappearance of the blonde makes her jump and then she ducks belatedly once she realizes the shower of water is getting on her too. She curses before she feels her body start to protest being up right, and she starts to sway.

“Wanda!”

Wanda’s eyes fly open and she struggles to stay standing as she turns to see you standing in front of her. Your hands are up and reaching for her, and she watches as you practically throw what remains of a bottle on the bar as you steady her.

You’d been unable to sleep at home even after Wanda left. You’d tried to read and then watch television to distract yourself, but it didn’t work. You had been thinking about the incident with Neil today, and how something just didn’t add up.

You didn’t understand why he’d go to the trouble to get Wanda at one of her clubs tonight. To be fair, you didn’t understand a lot about her work, but the way he went about it just didn’t make any sense to you. If what he really wanted was Wanda’s presence, he had to have a better way to get it, right? Even if it had required a lie, Neil shouldn’t have had to bother you, and waste so much of your time today if it wasn’t strictly necessary. Right?

This is what you kept rolling around in your head until it was nearly 11 and you were still too wired to sleep. You laid in bed for a bit longer just staring at the ceiling before you began to worry about your wife. What if she was walking into a trap? It was this thought that finally made you text Bucky to figure out what he was up to. You were a little surprised to hear that he was hanging out on the third floor, and you sat up in bed before throwing off the covers and running upstairs.

Somehow, you’d convinced your friend to take you to the club because you were worried about Wanda. He’d refused at first of course, but you’d promised to stay in the car while he checked on your wife and called in back up. It wasn’t until you arrived and heard the fire alarm going off and patrons crowding the street that you realized something was wrong.

If Wanda ever finds out that you just ran into the club without a plan, she’d be furious. However, as you hold onto your wife who’s having trouble standing, you can’t help but be grateful that you’d followed your intuition tonight.

You grimace when Wanda cries out as you try to move her away from the unconscious blonde on the ground, and you quickly change tactics.

“Here Wands, hold on.”

You wrap an arm around your wife’s waist and lead her to the nearest seat. Luckily, it’s not far and you sit her down with a groan before you take a moment to look her over. You feel your anxiety increase as you note the bloody nose, various scratches, and the bleeding wound on her leg. You glance over at Bucky who’s helping a pair of medics get an unconscious Steve onto a stretcher. The fact that there’s no blood is the only thing that keeps you from running over there.

When you’d stormed up the stairs, you hadn’t even noticed Steve initially. He was on the ground a ways from the stairs, and given that the bar was right in front of you, it was difficult not to notice your wife first. You’d run toward her and the blonde that was holding a gun to her head with nothing but a bottle of champagne that you’d grabbed from a bucket in the VIP area. You hadn’t even known if you’d even be able to knock her out with it, but when you raised the bottle and swung as hard as you could, well it shattered over the blonde’s head and sent her down hard.

You know that someone will be over to help Wanda any minute, but you aren’t able to just sit by and watch her continue to bleed. You take off your jacket and then your shirt that will be easier to tie around Wanda’s leg. She just watches you dumbstruck until you manage to apply the makeshift tourniquet and she groans in pain.

“Shit! Y/n, what are yo-you doing here?”

Wanda tries to sound mad, but her question comes out breathless and she’s so sore she can barely keep herself upright. Her back is aching and her ears are ringing as she watches you get back to your feet. You put your jacket back on over your bra, and frown as you reach out to wipe some of the blood off Wanda’s face.

“I was worried about you.”

Wanda passes out only moments before the EMTs arrive to take her to the compound. You figure you have two choices, but you decide to drive with Bucky instead of in the ambulance. You don’t want to get in the way, and you’ll probably end up getting there first given how your friend drives.

You don’t speak to Wanda again until the early hours of the morning. You’ve already called in sick for work, but you’re still tense where you sit beside your wife’s bed uncomfortably warm. You’ve only tried to take off your jacket twice to remember that you’re not wearing a shirt underneath it. You consider asking someone for a change of clothes, but you don’t want to leave your wife’s side.

She’s already had surgery to close the bullet hole in her leg, to set her wrist, and her nose. You had talked to Pietro and Nat when they came down to visit the unconscious redhead. Pietro was understandably pissed and already working on figuring out who was going to suffer for this. The blonde that you’d knocked out had been taken in for questioning, but you hadn’t had the bandwidth to ask about this. All you’d managed to do was check in on Steve who was luckily awake, and already back to work.

It’s nearly 4 in the morning before Wanda wakes up from her surgery. You sit up at the sound of her monitors changing only seconds before you hear a groan.

“Wanda?”

The redhead doesn’t respond immediately, but she turns toward you with a pained look in her eyes. She blinks a few times before she seems to convince herself that you’re really here, and she smiles slightly at the sight of you.

“Y/n. Is…Did I imagine it?”

You have to stop yourself from scoffing at the idea, and you stand up and walk over to your wife’s bedside. You want to reach out for her, but no part of her looks safe to touch. Her wrist is in a cast, and she looks so tense and frail that you worry that anything you do will hurt her. You shake your head before you kneel at her side and meet her slightly unfocused gaze. You figure that the pain medications she’s on are responsible for this.

“No, you didn’t imagine it, Wands. I got to thinking about how things didn’t add up, and I came to the club to confirm my suspicions. I’m really glad I arrived when I did.”

Not that earlier wouldn’t have been better. You don’t say this though because you can already tell Wanda is confused. She frowns and she tries to sit up only to curse when she puts weight on her wrist.

“Ow, shit!”

“Wanda, wait. Let me help you.”

Wanda’s too tired to argue, so she lets you hoist her up into a sitting position with minimal fuss. Her back is still tender, but as you prop her up against the pillows on her bed, she barely notices. She looks over to you with an expression that’s torn between gratitude and frustration. She’s beyond grateful that you saved her from being shot, but she hates that you were in danger.

She knows that she can’t protect you from everything. You’ve only had this argument a dozen times, but that didn’t stop Wanda from trying. This is why she’d told you to stay home tonight, but she would be lying if she said that your arrival at the club wasn’t timely.

Finally, she sighs before she takes a deep breath which makes her nose ache. She groans at the thought of it being broken. What a fucking mess.

“Thank you, detka. For the rescue. I won’t say I’m happy that you were there, but I am grateful.”

You realize what Wanda’s saying and you smile before leaning forward to kiss her. You switch to her forehead last minute, and Wanda offers you a sheepish smile. You frown in confusion, but then end up nearly rolling your eyes at what she says.

“I promise I was careful, Y/n.”

You reach across the bed to hold Wanda’s uninjured hand, and you simply shake your head with a sigh. You know that protecting Wanda from getting hurt is near impossible in her line of work. You know that despite having the best security, and more weapons than you can fathom, things like this will happen. You hate it and tonight definitely made you want to ask your wife to quit again, but you can’t. You have to believe that this is a one-off, and it’s simply best to be grateful that Wanda’s already awake and making excuses.

You lift her hand before kissing it with a teasing smile.

“We’ll argue about your definition of ‘careful’ later, babe. I’m just glad you’re okay.”

Wanda briefly considers what could have happened if you hadn’t shown up when you did. Your paranoia had likely saved her life while her anger may have almost killed her. She tries to consider what signs she’d missed when she’d arrived at the club last night. Had she been poorly prepared, or had there already been a trap in place?

She knows that she has weaknesses. She’s not arrogant enough to think otherwise, but unfortunately sometimes she forgets that you’re probably her biggest and most obvious one. Anyone who knows who she’s married to is able to exploit this and trigger her fight or flight response like they had tonight. She can’t say for sure if she would have acted far differently if someone else had been threatened. If she’d been threatened, but all she knows is that anytime you’re mentioned or you’re potentially at risk, she loses her head a bit.

She should be better than this. After this many years she should know how to separate her personal life from business. She supposes the problem is that others want to blur these lines and use one to influence the other.

She sighs in annoyance at the headache she’s causing, and she turns back to you when you squeeze her hand. She turns to see you shooting her a concerned look, and she can’t help but melt.

This is why she lets herself have a weakness. Being with you, and being able to call you hers is worth it. It has to be.

“Are you okay?”

Wanda just nods as she pulls you into a one-armed hug. You’re careful and barely touch her as you hug her back. She sighs in relief as she just tries to bask in your presence for a few seconds. The rest can wait. She just wants to hold you.

“I will be.”

Masterlist

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x female reader #wanda maximoff fanfiction #wanda x reader #silver springs drabble #silver springs #mob au

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braaan · 17 days ago

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HOLID-AMA ANSWERS!

OR: QUESTIONS AND BRAN-SWERS

Thank you to everyone who submitted an ask! These were very, very fun to do, and overwhelmingly flattering. I'd like to do more of these very soon :)

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On writing

@kooyabooya asks: what made you want to start writing about kpop ggs in the first place (this could aka what inspires you to write in terms of dynamics, tone, prose, imagery, etc etc...)

Hi Koo! Thank you for the question! :-) I think – like you’re indicating – there’s a couple of parts to this:

(1) and most inherently: COVID changed me. I went from legitimately adverse to kpop to perusing the genre to #ONCE Forever in maybe 6 months LOL. I seriously blame the physically disgusting amount of League I was playing (there was a player on ladder who always shit on me with Dahyun as their ID) but more realistically think it was just fandom at work! I wanted more content eventually, and it didn’t take me long to stumble onto the kpop-latent writersphere.

(2) Neatly from above: I think the kpop-latent writersphere is one of the most rich and rife communities out there; to a sizable degree: I write because of you! I am surrounded by great writers, am always reading something that is funky and/or makes me feel some type of way every month, and I think because of that, have similar stories to tell!

The Hyewon was my first piece of smut, longform, evocative writing (everything in between, really), and I credit all of that to the community. As long as you continue to enjoy my stuff, push the bar yourself, and re-invest in the space along the way, I think I’ll be here for a while!

(3) Bong Joon Ho says something to the effect of art needing to scare you. I believe in this so viscerally, and think it’s why I fundamentally write so… annoyingly descriptive… recursively metaphorical… pithy? I think I spend a lot of time understanding a character in and out; I’ll always have a Weverse Live going on when I’m writing — just to catch the quirks — because I really want you to believe that, even for a moment, what you’re reading is real. I think parasocialism can lend itself to a hauntingly beautiful form of want, and to me, if I can tell a story so true to life that it lingers — leaves a lasting impression on you that makes you feel something, even if just for a moment — that is awesome.

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@fuckkkkkklol asks: do you have ways to push through writer’s block and/or executive dysfunction when it comes to creative things (including but not limited to writing)? if yes gimme your best ones

@majorblinks asks: tips for overcoming heinous & debilitating writer's block (asking for a friend not me)

Hi Miggy, hiiiiii major ^_^, and hi major's friend! I think my very unqualified advice here doesn’t stray far from: be bored and don’t do what you don’t want.

Above is just a screenshot-worthy sneak peek of what my current drafts look like — the slate totals up to maybe ~15 pieces that I’ve worked on on and off, and though are in many states, all of them unfinished. The haunting voice in the back of my head hates this: that I have so many drafts that I should finish, that I must go back and put out all of these stories, that I have an obligation to do these things… but the better part of me knows that is contradictory.

Creation is iteration — when @capslocked wants to be smart, he has a sweet turn of phrase that goes “writing is rewriting” — and I think it’s fundamentally inconsequential to have to create.

Get words out of your system, play around with an idea for a timeframe, get bored of it, chase a new premise that you start a completely different draft for, then do it over again — eventually, to me, this ends up coalescing to something that I can put out: I’m ALWAYS looking back at drafts and exercises to Frankenstein them into other pieces (“I really liked this pacing from here” … “Ooh, and then this metaphor I think sits nicely with this other one” … Eunseo was a combination of lots of unrelated drafts before it).

Also: you are so opinionated! Reading something, I form an opinion almost immediately of a writing voice: what I don’t like, what I do, and how I’d do an idea myself. I think this instinctive editorial motion is great when applied to the above exercise: I’ll start a new doc in the direct middle of a one-shot, riff off something I saw somewhere else, or just play with a metaphor that I really really like — none of these are ever intentional of a story I’ll write, but I do think it continues to keep writing instinctive and, like above, almost always becomes recycled into something that eventually does make it out.

In short, I think the remedy to writer’s block is time, and continuing to nurture the muscle is what makes overcoming the hurdle easier and easier when you inevitably come back to it. To me, any hacks, additional fire under your ass, or other things to speed up the process are inconducive of actual Craft, and most likely do not let you enjoy doing what you initially set out to!

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@kesujo asks: Every writer's writing style is inspired by his/her favorite writers, which may even change as they discover new writers. Has this ever happened to you, where you noticed your writing style change, or you pick up some stuff from new writers you've discovered? And, if you were to say the top 5 influences to your current writing style (doesn't have to be in order), who would they be, and what about their writing style did you like the most that you picked up from this writer?

Oh yeah, like I mentioned, I’m very new to the space (and this voice of writing in general), so I’m definitely always :notee:-ing.

I’m not reading enough these days, and if I am, it really is strategy-latent nonfiction, but for here:

@yieldtotemptation easily has the most fun-laced voice and ideas — we could be several thousand words deep into an otherwise raunchy piece, and I'd still find myself putting my phone down to laugh at a disarming line of dialogue or perfectly packaged, real-life metaphor. Gray has inadvertently taught me a lot about having fun with my stuff, and I think I'm trying to take myself less seriously because of them!

@majorblinks is my blueprint, and genuinely, viscerally, in-real-life annoys me. Completely straight: I think Major is the bar for storytelling. We're both on the same wavelength when it comes to the stories we'd like to try, but only one of us has gone out and done it (see: DOWNRIGHT ICONIC), and I think that makes all of the difference. I'll spare you the brainworm: there's writing for writing's sake, and then there's writing with a purpose. DOWNRIGHT ICONIC as an example is a fundamentally masterful understanding of how smut and its readers work as a vehicle**, and I think everyone would benefit by taking a sliver of Craft that it literally oozes out.

@capslocked is a pioneer of many, many things in this space, but I think doesn't get enough credit for how technically crafty he is. My drafts are guilty of overusing "And" to start new sequences, and it's not until I've re-read a Caps piece that I go back and fix them. Caps has an expertly-crafted, seriously refreshing style of paragraphing, structure and usage that I'm always looking to for inspiration, and easily is the writer that dumbfounds me the most with how rudimentary / fundamental his phrasing feels — it's always a mix of "oh wow!" and "of course!" if that makes sense!

** Alex Cornell has a fantastic, 25-minute talk about Idea Vessels (here) that touches on this

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Anonymous asks: Hello Bran, just wanna say I love your fics and writing style. Wondering if you have any upcoming fics that your currently working on?

Anonymous asks: Curious on any upcoming fics?

Hi very, very kind Anons! I have two in the slow cooker that I'd really like to see come out. Sneak peeks at both of them below!

(1) is this Julie piece from last summer that I put on pause. There was a week where I put on Mother (Letterboxd), Perfect Days (Letterboxd), and Shoplifters (Letterboxd) on back to back to back, and this came from that!

There's something about noir and darker themes that I think expert directors understand lend themselves well to the one long take that feels more and more intrusive as it stays on a character / scene, for example, and this piece really tries to encapsulate that into writing.

It's a more condescending and smartass character compared to what I'm used to, and the draft for it sits squarely on top of the framing that idol Julie becomes Oedipus Rex. Written in the style of a tragedy, rife with callbacks to Greek Classics; could be really sexy.

(2) is a Chaeryeong piece that I tried to put out for @passingnotions.

It's legitimately some of the raunchiest stuff I've written, and all sits on the premise that you haven't seen gross yet — I have each of the seven deadly sins in the document LOL; I genuinely always feel guilty when I re-read some of the stuff in here...

(bran pure bran pure bran pure)

On not writing

@octoberautumnbox asks: pls also get nachos on the next milk run and a flavor ice cream you'd rate 6/10

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@majorblinks asks: r we twin flames yes or no

:fishh:

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@kooyabooya asks: the last song you listened to on your spotify?

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@avenger7567 asks: Do you think WJSN will ever return again?

I cannot imagine that it will be the same iteration of WJSN if they do, but I think (and hope) so — the socials are decently active, and will 100% be a gimme for headlines!

It's truly such a sonic loss! I'll find the time to put it into words one of these days, but I really think underdog-y, just under the surface energy is what leads to experimentation within any genre. Music is trendy, and kpop is no stranger of the "regression to the popular grey" — groups like WJSN who don't have enough clout to conform must zag... and then you get shit like Last Sequence.

VIVIZ, NMIXX, RESCENE (here and here), and Billlie play this game very well + keep me sated in the interim! WJSN 2030 comeback :')

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@majorblinks asks: whats ur most recently read book & how many stars would u give it out of 5

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@friskyriskywhisky asks: Nice to see you on Tumblr again!😊 How are you doing so far? What is the most attractive thing an idol has once said? If you can only watch only one idol's live-stream for a whole year, who would it be?

Most importantly: SANA CLAUS is gonna get robbed by one female idol. Who's it gonna be and are you going to warn Santa?

(1) Always good! It's been a crazy start to the year, but I feel like I've always been legitimately blessed :-)

(2) HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

(3) Probably Luda (WJSN)!

I'm not a big livestream consumer, but I do notice that a lot of groups where the majority of them are adults tend to have more fun ones. For another time, but I think there's less media criticism inherently of what you are and aren't allowed to say when you're "an adult", and so these livestreams do feel a little less... sterile?

The last Luda stream I watched, I remember there being a sequence where she legitimately spent 2 minutes making fun of a fan comment because they commented that they were single LOL

(4 AND MOST IMPORTANTLY) step bro i'm stuck in the Sana multiverse and if you even remotely think about trying to get me out i will absolutely end u

---

@kooyabooya asks: what is your spirit animal or pokemon (if you have one by chance)

LOL can you guess:

---

@majorblinks asks: give me like 3 of ur new year's resolutions . what r we getting up to in 2025

I need to crack open the journal and really Reflect to get them down down..... but I think will largely stem from the same place of having a better relationship w work and the things I do...

Long pause moment in recent memory came from a conversation I had with some friends — among many tidbits: "I want complete control over something ... and then will want control of my control" + "where is the line between full trust in yourself and mistrust in anyone else?"

... think I've come to a place where it's actively harmful for me to not let go a little bit more, so hopefully in 2025: less so default white-knuckle about things!

Other than that, probably getting back into music production in one way or another, and eating majorblinks alive! ^_^

---

@zeketheknight asks: What are your favorite K-pop moments from 2024?

2024 was a great year for moments up my alley in general — I feel like I've been quite prolific about the more adult idols drum (which only becomes more real with time), and I think I can point to content coming out of Jeongyeon, Chaeyeon, Eunbi, Haewon, Shuhua, Youngji/Eunji as probably some of my more memorable moments of the year!

youtube

Like the middle minutes of this is still so fire LOL

The bar is low for risqué (real) in Kpop, but until we let them even address shit like this it's going to be diluted, pandering, and brainrot for a loooong time.

---

@kooyabooya asks: thoughts on matcha lattes?

Big fan! I'm always doing a 2-shot matcha something within the workday.

I've been meaning to explore more of this — I am somewhat... unconvinced the matcha game goes deeper than it looks like it does on the surface — so if you have good match recommendations please send my way!

---

@friskyriskywhisky asks: How would you navigate this situation where you're not sure Hyewon is being friendly or flirty?

WHERE IN THE HELL IS THIS ONLY FRIENDLY IN ANY CONNOTATION?????????????????????

i'd probably piss my pants frisky 😎

---

That's QUESTIONS AND BRAN-SWERS this time around! Thank you again to everyone who submitted an ask, and you for reading if you got all the way down here. This was really, really fun, and I'd like to do more writing-latent stuff in the future. Until then: happy new year, be good to each other, and see you in the next one!

— Bran

#asks

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restinslices · 1 year ago

Note

Earth realm boys dating a popstar???? 👀👀👀👀

“Send me ideas guys” *proceeds to hit brain block* I didn’t know if you wanted the Lin Kuei Bros or Syzoth involved but imma add this little rule/guideline(?) so I don’t throw myself down the stairs. So the Earthrealm Boys will be Johnny, Kenshi, Kung Lao, Raiden and Liu Kang. Lin Kuei Bros are Bi-Han, Kuai Liang and Tomas. You can also ask for specific characters but IMMA LET YALL KNOW RIGHT NOW y’all have a limit of FIVE people per post or I’m sleeping in traffic.

Johnny Cage

If you think Johnny Cage is anything other than excited, you're wrong.

There's no way he doesn't enjoy dating a pop star.

He'd tell you how great your names sound together. Johnny Cage the movie star and you the pop star.

He's probably asked you if your songs can be in his movies.

I think he'd be extremely supportive. Sometimes a little overbearing. Some people might enjoy him wanting to come to every show, while some people may say “dude, calm down”.

Your ringtone on his phone is one of your songs for sure

He also asks for some of your merch for free since ya know, debt 😀

If there's a dance that goes along with it, I can definitely see him learning it and showing you how good (bad) he is

Please let him be in your music videos. He's on his knees begging

He has such a huge ego, he'd probably say something like “you can't possibly turn down an A lister like me”

He's so President of your fanclub

He also posts exclusives of you on his social media

This may sound selfish but he's hoping your popularity will increase his. When we meet him, his fame is dying out so he's hoping being seen with you will remind people he exists

Don't get it misconstrued though. He adores you. He just can't help but have these thoughts

Probably makes you promise to dedicate a song to him too. Realistically he wants an album but he'll take whatever

He's so Ken coded to me and remember, Ken only has a great day if Barbie looks at him. You're his Barbie, regardless of gender

Kenshi Takahashi

Considering the fact that he's on the run from the Yakuza, uhhhh he's not the happiest

Is he proud? Yeah. But dating him puts a huge target on your back. Kenshi can hide. You, as a popstar, can't do that. You're always in the spotlight. And since the Yakuza got connections, they'd find out somehow.

He'd encourage you to take a break until things cool over. Only problem is he doesn't know when that'd be, and the music industry is competitive. You don't have time to be on a break. People could forget about you.

Under any other circumstance, he'd be happy for you. Not many people can make it in the music industry. There are tons of people who have big plans but settle for less.

In any other circumstance he'd listen to your songs, spread the word about your concerts, buy your merch cause he's not in debt, even attend a few concerts.

Now though, he's uptight and worried. Every concert you have he's worried will be your last. Any fan meet you have he's worried will end in death.

I honestly think he'd try to actively avoid anything that has to do with your career. It's a constant reminder that you're doing the exact opposite of what he's asking you to and you're putting yourself in danger. This could possibly cause a lot of arguments since he could come off as controlling when in reality he's worried and trying to be cautious

He's trying to avoid anything to do with your career but every playlist he has has your songs sprinkled throughout them

Overall he's proud of you but life has him pretty uptight. He'll be his normal self once he restores his clan.

Kung Lao

This cocky little shit is so hype his partner is famous

I can see him talking about your music with others like “my partner? They make music. You probably know them. I don't know yours though cause they're unknown. How are y'all paying the bills?”

You tell him not to do that but he continues anyway. Everyone had to know how awesome you were compared to them

Idk why I have this scene in my head of him buying your concert tickets to sell it again but make it more expensive. I legit don't know why but I couldn't ignore it.

Kung Lao has such a huge ego and your success does not help that. In fact, it makes it worse

How many people can say they're dating a popstar? Or anyone famous for that matter?

I can see him “helping” with lyrics but the shit he tries to add is dog shit so you do not add it, which he does not get.

“I have an ear for music” “An ear. Not a talent”

Starts a fanclub and forces Raiden to be involved

You'd think he's the popstar with how much pride he has when it comes to your career

Like Kenshi, he has a whole playlist dedicated to you and your songs are sprinkled throughout his other playlists

If you ask for his honest opinion on a song, he's gonna give you his honest opinion so be prepared. It's like asking a kid if a jacket makes you look fat.

He doesn't mean to be malicious. He just can't have you releasing bad shit. His approach just isn't the best but it's all with love

“What do you think about Bubblegum?” “The chorus isn't catchy at all if I'm being honest. You've definitely made better”

He'd help though by saying what he liked from other songs and it'd steer you in the right direction

Your career? No. Y'ALL career. UterUS type shit

In all seriousness, he's very happy that out of all the celebrities you could be with, you chose a non celebrity like him.

Raiden

Honestly I don't think anyone would even know you're dating. He's just too shy.

With Johnny, he's famous and has no shame so that's how people know you're together. The Yakuza is out here so that's how they know about you and Kenshi. Kung Lao is Kung Lao, idk how else to explain it. With Raiden though, I don't think he'd want your fans to know you're dating.

He's shy and also values privacy and you respect that. Your fans know you're dating someone just not who.

He probably has a second account he uses to stay up to date with fan discourse

Likes every edit of you and shows you them.

“Were you looking these up?” “I… don't know what you could possibly mean”

I don't think he's a big concert person. I don't know why. At least not a huge, no personal space type of concert. So I think he'd do other things to support like using that second account to promote your activities, reposting edits, and buying your stuff.

Knowing his luck, that second account for privacy and being sneaky would end up getting fans attention. He'd become the main update page everyone goes to. Guess he wasn't sneaky enough

Probably asks you to sing to him when it's quiet

Has bought a poster of you and forgot to take it down when you came over

“Kung Lao put that up” “Mhm, sure”

He has two hats. His normal hat and a hat that has stickers of you on it. Kung Lao or Johnny probably did it to tease him but he kept it anyway

Dedicate a song to him and watch how flustered he gets. He'd be so honored

If you had an MV and there was a love interest in it, he wouldn't wanna be jealous but it'd happen.

Everytime he sees you perform or hears you, he falls deeper in love. Like Kung Lao, he's very happy you picked him to be your love and muse

Liu Kang

He probably saw this coming based on your life in the past timeline

Knowing how the past timelines were though, your life was probably chaotic and your music career was probably disturbed by the constant threats

Seeing you just having fun and making music in this timeline would make him extremely happy and proud of himself for creating such a peaceful timeline (at first)

Liu Kang has glowing eyes so there's a chance concerts aren't happening, but I think he'd still stream your music like everyone else

Would probably try to keep you far away from any disturbances. When he takes his champions to Outworld, he makes up a lie. He doesn't want what you're passionate about disturbed at all

Supportive in the sense that he's always going to say “yes” to whatever ideas you have. A breakup song? Great idea. A fun party song? Awesome. A fan meet? Sounds fun.

He genuinely just wants you happy this time and music makes you happy.

You could talk him into using his fire as some background effect as long as others won't see

He talks you into doing smaller performances at Madam Bo's. You're spying on Raiden and Kung Lao without even knowing

Whenever you find out about the shit storm going on, he does not want you involved and will say so. He wants you to focus on your passion and let him take care of it. Whether you do or not is up to you

After all that though you'd probably end up making music for Johnny's movie about shit that happened. He doesn't disapprove but thinks you can do better than make a soundtrack for Johnny 'Big Mouth’ Cage

Secret fanboy. Forced to act all serious all the time but he's mumbling your lyrics under his breath, even if it's super cutesy.

He's just so happy for you. I know I keep repeating it but you probably DIED in the past timeline or some shit so seeing you happy and just living? It shows his efforts for peace paid off.

I usually say smth after but idk what to say. I wanna start art commissions so bad but half bodies are kicking my ass. I’m finna start tweaking fr

#mk1 #mk1 2023 #mortal kombat 1 #johnny cage #johnny cage mk1 #johnny cage x reader #kenshi takahashi #kenshi takahashi mk1 #kenshi takashi x reader #kung lao #kung lao mk1 #kung lao x reader #raiden #raiden mk1 #raiden mortal kombat #raiden x reader #liu kang #liu kang mk1 #liu kang x reader

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bellewintersroe · 1 year ago

Note

okay i'm glad! then i'm sending this in if you ever get back in a BoB mood, but no pressure :)

can i request headcanons on how some of them would react (i was thinking mainly Liebgott, Roe and Speirs, but absolutely feel free to add anyone you want too like Luz or Malarkey) if the Easy company gets dispatched in a town near the sea/has to sleep in a beach or similar, and the sweet and kind nurse that is always dispatched with the second battalion (who everyone is crushing on ofc hahaha) as soon as all the high ranks are gone just, takes off her uniform (so she is like in her bra and underwear) and just bolts it towards the sea, calling for the others to join her and play around in the water, because she just loves the sea that much?

i just thought something fun and light could be cute, since the boys definitely need some fun time :)🫶🏻

heyyyy omg so sorry it’s taken so long to reply but thank you thank you thank you for your request! I love this idea sm!! I have altered it slightly to make it more realistic (don’t ask why cos I bend the rules all the time) but I hope these head cannons are okay!!! <3 <3 <3 <3

Band of Brothers x Nurse!Reader Headcannons

General HC’s for 2nd battalion + some more men reacting to their well loved nurse having some fun in the water.

So first let me set the scene, you’ve all just been told you’re being shipped back off to the pacific and morale has somewhat dropped again.

theres so much anxiety snd tension in the air that nobody really can unwind, so after one particularly gruelling training session, 2nd battalions nurse decides to have a little fun…

It’s a boiling hot day in Austria, the lake looks so inviting, and she’s such a sweetheart she just wants to boost morale. All the men absolutely adore her, if they don’t have a crush on her they find her endearing and a comfort to them.

“fuck it.” She mutters, stripping off her uniform as she runs closer to the pier, dropping each piece of clothing behind her.

One by one all the men’s heads turn and then suddenly begin whooping and whistling in excitement. Joe Liebgott:

Stunned to see you stripping off, in fact he remains frozen with his jaw dropped for a few moments. He’s so used to seeing you all covered up and oh my god boobs.

“Close your trap, Joe, you’re trapping flies.”

wouldn’t take much convincing to get in, I think he’d be super playful with you, splashing you and dunking you.

deffo splashes you a little too much, but when you’d jump on his back and he feels the press of your boobs against his bare back- uhhhh his brain turns to mush.

“It’s so nice, isn't it Joe?”

“Uh- yeah, so nice…” deffo gets a boner.

Eugene Roe:

Maybe a lil different scenario, I feel like if there was a group of you he’d probably sit on the side watching and laughing in amusement.

he’d watch you strip off and immediately avert his eyes out of respect but ohmygodogogososo he’s blushing- he hasn’t seen a woman like that for years.

you’re already super close, so to be able to have downtime together creates something more… intimate.

if you’d jump in at the end of the day, the sun setting when it’s just the two of you I don’t think it would take much convincing to for him to get in the water.

you’d float further back from the surface with a smirk as he undressed, jumping in and purposefully splashing you.

would be a little more shy, especially if there’s more men around, but the second you joke about how he might need to give you cpr and the kiss of life he’s smirking and acting all cool and omg.

his hands would snake lower and lower down onto your butt and everybody would be none the wiser around you guys if there was others there.

who knew Roe could be such a flirt?

Ron Speirs:

Now this guy being your literal superior probably wouldn’t linger around to see you, 2nd battalions own nurse, strip off to go for a swim whilst all the horny men giggle like children from the land.

he’d deffo know he had to be more respectful, but let’s change the time a little, it’s just after the German army surrendered, you’re both wasted.

Rob asks you like ‘so what were you doing in the water the other day?’

You’d tell him in return you were just having some fun and he should’ve tried it. Ron, in a celebratory mood, and captivated by how fucking beautiful you are just thinks ‘fuck it’ and makes the decision to go on a ‘walk’.

You end up pushing each other into the water.

for a moment you’re probs shocked that this is literally Captain Speirs you’re swimming with, but things get… heated and there’s no time to think about being intimidated.

you’d deffo probs have the hottest, spontaneous sex with him in the water lmaooo.

George Luz:

You just know this man would be the first one to jump in with you OMG.

he’d be so excited like finally, somebody’s just as fun as he is…

Probs like that kid on holiday that takes it too far and dunks you to the point you’re so out of breath.

I feel like you two would physically play fight to playfully drowning each other. Would be chaos central and anybody who tried to come near you would get a face-full of water.

Don’t be surprised if you wake up the next day with bruises.

kinda sweet tho, you’d lay on the beach together the same night and he’d be all sweet, apologising and checking he didn’t take it too far?

Don Malarkey:

Everybody knows Don needs this time to unwind and just have some fun.

for the first time in months he feels more like himself, the two of you already have a very close bond so it makes you both so mutually happy to the see the other so care free.

I think he’d be laughing like crazy, probably throwing you off the dock and then jumping in after you, cos even tho he’s playing around he doesn’t want to be too rough with you.

would happily shove any of the other men in the water so that the two of you are left standing on the land together.

When he see’s you in your wet bikini oh my godddd- his brain turns to mush and he practically avoids even making eye contact with you he’s that nervous.

when you sit on his lap later that evening he’s done for.

he’s a little stunned cos you’re always so sweet and innocent… but it feels like a dream come true for Malarkey.

#band of brothers headcanons #band of brothers imagine #band of brothers x reader #joe liebgott imagines #joe liebgott x reader #gene roe x reader #ron speirs x reader #george luz x reader #don malarkey x reader

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emberfrostlovesloki · 7 months ago

Text

Silver Linings [Hotch x Reader]

Photo credits: (@xin-bloomx) Center (@itsthegreenaesthetic) Right (@pennyspearl)

Prompt: During a girl's trip that seems to keep going wrong, the reader’s swimsuit falls apart in the pool and she has to ask the nice man in a suit - Aaron - for a helping hand. Sparks begin to fly when the reader pays Hotch back for his help that morning.

Pairing: Aaron x Non-BAU!Reader, fem!Reader. The reader uses she/her pronouns

Category: Fluff/comfort

Word Count: 7.7K

Content Warnings: Language, awkward situation, mention of drinking alcohol, break-ups/fighting [reader's friends]. Please let me know if I missed any.

A/N: Hi all! I hope you are all doing very well! This fic is based on a prompt from my July Prompt List (linked). A swimming suit mishap leaves Character A in an awkward position until Character B comes to the rescue. I had fun writing this and trying to make the silly situation seem realistic. My tone in this story is heavily based on the current book I’m reading, A Little Life, so it feels slightly different, that’s why. I did make up some friends for the reader, I hope you don’t mind too much. Please be kind to yourselves this week and do something you love, you are so special. If you enjoy this fic, likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated! Love Levi - ❤️

List with all stories

y/n = your name

y/l/n = your last name

y/s = your situation (i.e. living/job situation)

y/f/c = your favorite color

g/s = gold or silver (whichever matches your skin tone best)

Aaron woke up with goosebumps on his arms. He groaned slightly, rolled over, and shut off his alarm, disturbing what wasn’t an unpleasant dream. It hadn’t been anything extraordinary, but still, it was nice. Hotch placed a forearm over his eyes as the brightness of the room overwhelmed his senses. As he moved around beneath the covers, the slightly starchy sheets crinkled and made small sounds as the sheets adjusted to his shifting weight on the mattress.

He closed his eyes to add another layer of darkness apart from his arm, which was draped over his eyes. He closed the privacy curtains last night in his room along with the smaller, more decorative white sheer curtains in his hotel as he’d returned from the conference he was attending this weekend. Aaron observed that no matter what hotels he was booked for this kind of thing, two elements almost always remained consistent, the air conditioning was always frigid when he entered the room or woke, and no matter what he did to try and keep his room dark, in the morning, the sun managed to wake him. There were four more minutes of silence before his alarm rang again and he cursed Rossi slightly under his breath before turning off the alarm, swinging his feet over the side of the bed, and fully waking up.

He took another moment for his eyes to adjust to the light, as his vision cleared, he watched as the smaller white curtains billowed from the air coming out of the air conditioner housed under the window of his room. It was like unseen hands were playing with the fabric, tossing it back and forth. Hotch yawned once, stood, and made his way to the bathroom. He hadn’t overslept which was good. It would give him time to shower and do a proper shave, and if the traffic wasn’t bad, he’d be able to get some good coffee before heading to the first lecture of the day. He never had high praises for the coffee at the Quantico Field Office’s break room, but somehow the caffeine offered at the sad beige-looking conference center in the heart of D.C. was worse.

He could taste the bitter acidity of it on his tongue as he thought about it, so he moved to the sink and washed his face, then brushed his teeth. He relieved himself before turning on the hot water in the shower. As the water came to an acceptable degree, he stripped off the white t-shirt he often slept in, and his boxers, leaving them on a chair near the desk. He walked past the bathroom mirror, already fogging up not taking time to notice of his reflection. He wouldn’t do that until he had to. As he stepped into the shower and closed the glass door around him he felt the aching in his feet and joints. The Friday session had been grueling with lots of standing and walking around and then loads of boring conversations that dulled his brain to hell and back. He was expecting more of the same today and was already dreading it.

As he cleaned every inch of his body with his lightly scented body wash, his fingers lathered the soap, he ignored the feeling of softness on his stomach and upper legs. Instead, he focused on the muscles he could still feel. His daily wash was like a ritual in grounding. If he had the time or the belief in meditation he might try that, but he never had - even if his therapist had suggested it multiple times. Aaron let his mind wander to the annual Technologies and Crime convention that the Cyber Crimes Unit annually hosted. All of the higher ranking members of the FBI were required to attend, or at least a member of each team. Really, the event was more for the administrators who often stayed in their offices while everyone else went out on the field. Not that those positions and jobs weren’t important, but those agents did seem older and less familiar with technology than some of the younger agents.

Not that he considered himself young, but he at least knew how to convert a PDF into a Word document and how to attach a file to an email. The specific topics being covered this year were AI and fraud, cryptocurrencies, and possible attacks on the failing infrastructure system in the U.S. which had actually been interesting. He chose to attend the sessions that dealt with the legal side of these issues as he had possibly the smartest tech whiz on his team, Penelope Garcia, to cover their backs whenever any technology was concerned. For a moment, when he’d drawn the short straw with Rossi, he considered bribing Garcia to go in his place, but one, bribes weren’t technically legal, and two, Penelope was sure to start fights with the presenters about how they were incorrect about their codes or something, and he wanted to avoid that conversation with Strauss if he could. So, he sighed, packed his bags, and left that Thursday for D.C.

Aaron finished with his shave, moved back to the bedroom, and dressed. As he slipped on his shoes, he looked over the room. It was nice. It didn’t need to be, but it was. The hotel was some sort of upcycled, repurposed office building that had an open floor plan and industrial exposed architecture. He tried to think about what it must have been like working there before it had gone under. He cringed at the thought and quickly moved out of his room. He made sure to grab his suit jacket and car keys along with his badge. As he moved into the hallway and toward the elevator, he considered the hotels to be very much like hospitals. Bland, cold, hopefully clean. Spaces meant to comfort and emulate home but somehow had an uncanny-valley-esque effect on him. He was suddenly relieved that he was checking out early tomorrow morning. Excited to see Jack and pick him up from his mom’s house. Excited to see his team. There would be relief in the familiar. If this was a flaw of his, he didn’t hate it as much as he hated some of the other things about himself.

y/n lay flat on her back, letting the chlorine water of the pool, unnaturally blue, wash over her body. The heat of the morning sun wasn’t too hot, yet. She’d hoped the pool would be empty, but a few guys and girls were sitting on the edge, and even more kids with moms who looked tired or hung over. y/n didn’t blame them, she’d be wasted too right now if it there hadn’t been such a bad fight last night between her friends. She was glad then, to be the sober friend so she could stop anyone from doing more than emotional damage to each other. Her reputation as the ‘mom friend’ had seemed to stick past college. She didn’t mind really, she just wished there was one time when she could be fully carefree, maybe have someone looking out for her back instead of doing the same for others all the time. A splash of water from one of the kids cannonballing close to her hit y/n in the face. y/n stood up, adjusted the straps of her swimsuit that were a size too big for her, and waded to the deep end where the boisterous children hadn’t congregated yet.

y/n closed her eyes and kept one hand on her swim top. The last thing she wanted to do was flash some, and the shoddy construction of her swimsuit didn’t give her much confidence. As she looked up at the blue sky spackled with light grey clouds floating above her, she considered that the trip had been ill-conceived since the beginning and that she really should have seen this outcome in the cards. She had been farther out from her friend group and always had been. All five of them met at college and lived on the same floor in one of the oldest dorms on campus. They ended up taking a lot of the same classes and forming a pretty tight friend group.

Four years later, they’d all moved on to jobs or marriage or another degree. Personally y/n found herself in y/s. It wasn’t wholly bad. She made money and had a place to stay, but in terms of fulfillment and success, she felt like her life was a lot less than many of her friends; their relationships, jobs, and houses. Even the idea of it made her annoyed, not at them, but at herself. She hated pity, especially if she was the one being pitied. “Suck it up, Buttercup” was a phrase she stated a lot, but it seemed harder to do that now while her mind was more empty. Since college, it had been harder for them to all get together as they moved away and started their adult lives. They always texted in the group chat during Spring Break or Summer that they should get together again. Then there would be a slew of anecdotes from their time in uni, pictures from the beach or study abroad, laughter, and nostalgia for a time that seemed ephemeral now that they were older.

Finally the most active and the planner of the five friends actually made a plan and asked everyone to list good dates when they actually could see each other for a weekend. Just them girls, no husbands, boyfriends, or children allowed. It would just be them and fun in the sun. They’d all made it work because they knew if they didn’t have a meet-up soon, they’d never do it, and even if this was their last hurrah, at least they’d kept their word: ‘friends for life.’ y/n had to fight with her boss for a weekend off at her second job, but she’d accrued the time and had good relationships with her co-workers who said they’d cover her shift if their boss, a real stick in the mud - gave her trouble. Then there was the problem of the ticket prices. y/n didn’t make a lot, and a flight was out of the option. They’d all picked D.C. because it was the closest to all of them combined, and there was a lot to do there, sightseeing, decent food, and such, so y/n had gotten an Amtrack ticket. It took twice as long for her to get to the hotel, but it was twice as cheap, so she was happy even if she was tired.

Apart from planning problems, the first issue came up when the first girl had to drop out because her kid caught the flu. This woman, Kelly had drawn far away from everyone since her marriage. Only one of their friends, Grace, had gotten an invite to Kelly’s wedding. So it wasn’t a huge deal, even though that thought made y/n feel bad. y/n often wondered if Kelly was happy with her four children, her husband, and her big house out in the suburbs of Maryland. From her Facebook posts, it seemed like it, but it was hard to tell. Then Veronica’s luggage got lost at the airport, or the airport in Denver where she’d had a layover. After she finished complaining over the group's first drinks of the vacation, all four of them, y/n, Grace, Veronica, and Kira went into town and watched Veronica spend an exorbitant amount of money to replace her lost things. She brushed off her causal spending and y/n and Kira’s eyes grew wide at the check out. Veronica sheepishly looked at them and said, “Drinks and dinner on me tonight, gang.” Veronica knew she was much better off than her friends, thanks to her parents. No one in the group was mad about this. Veronica didn’t flaunt her money, or she hadn’t in college. Actually, she’d helped them all out a lot, including buying y/n’s textbooks sophomore year. y/n had promised to pay her back, and after months y/n had saved enough to do so. When y/n presented Veronica with the money, she declined it instantly and told y/n to spend it on something she wanted, or needed. After y/n had gotten back to her apartment, she cried. She wasn’t sure why, but she had.

The last issue, the big issue that had gotten y/n out of bed early to avoid her friends was a fight between Grace and Kira. It just wasn’t a fight, it was a friendship-ending fight. Of all five of them, Kira and Grace had remained the closest, mostly because they lived in the same town and in the same apartment. They still hung out like all of them used to. They had the same circle of friends and, surprisingly to everyone, the same boyfriend. There was no getting around it. It had started while Kira and Tom were taking a break. He’d slid into Graes DM’s trying to not look shady, acting like he wanted emotional support, but he ended up wanting more, and Grace had given it to him. Then, when Kira and Tom had patched things up, Grace promised herself she’d never do that again, but it turned out she, nor Tom had that much willpower, or decency to stop seeing each other on the sly. The truth came tumbling out of Grace’s mouth in a much less composed way. She’d begged and pleaded to all of them, to Veronica and y/n more than Kira for forgiveness, but everyone was too stunned to do anything for a while. Then Kira started sobbing profusely and then screaming, and that’s when y/n pushed Grace out of the room and toward her own which she was sharing with Veronica.

Not that Veronica couldn’t afford her own room, it was that y/n couldn’t and Veronica had taken pity on her. Again that work pity had popped up, and y/n shook it off. At least there was one person who y/n had little pity for, and that was Grace. It ended up being a long night as y/n sat with Grace and listened to her ramble once she’d stopped crying and moved to the bar in the lobby. After an hour, y/n got a text from Veronica asking to trade places and y/n agreed. Veronica was kind and generous, but not the best with comforting people in the face of big emotions, or any emotions, so y/n told her where she was, swung by their room to grab an unopened bottle of wine she’d bought at the store earlier, and made it to Kira’s room where she spent the next two hours listening and finally tucking her friend under the covers.

The fallout from the fight last night had effects that changed y/n’s anticipated vacation and catch-up, and greatly dampened her mood. The first was that Veronica had bought Grace an early flight home that morning which would leave in an hour and save them all some awkwardness. Veronica had also bought herself a ticket home as well. The richest of the group had justified her choice to leave early because she was sad about the situation and didn’t want to be sad before she went on her big summer vacation in Italy in two weeks. This had all been explained in the new group chat, sans Grace, in a load of bright messages that y/n had woken up to that morning. y/n realized this was probably for the best, but it still made her sad. She had hoped for it to be like the old days and it wasn’t. Nothing about growing up and finishing college and getting a job had been what she’d expected, so she didn’t know why she’d hoped for a change this time.

y/n blinked away the sleepiness in her eyes and sat up on Kira’s bed. Her friend was still asleep and y/n replied to Veronica’s texts saying she’d be at the pool, and to come and see her there before Veronica’s flight left which was shortly after Grace’s. y/n decided to not waste her time off. She’d planned for it and spent money on it, and wanted to have a good time even if it was by herself. y/n had also grabbed her backpack last night with her clothes and the color of her new swimsuit jumped out at her from the other clothes inside. With a smile, y/n grabbed the two pieces and put them on in the bathroom. y/n turned on the bright light and examined herself in the mirror. The swimwear was from SHIEN and not well made, but it looked good on her. It was y/f/c. There were g/s rings on the top and bottom. The two pieces of fabric were connected in the front with a ring and both sides also had rings with straps that connected at the back. The neck closure was just a traditional sting bikini-style top. The two halves of the bottom of the suit were also held together at the sides with rings. With the design of the suit, there was lots of exposed skin, but y/n was comfortable with that; it would allow her to get a nice tan which didn’t happen when she was at work all hours of the day. The rings weren’t real s/g, they were a cheap plastic knockoff. She left Kira a note with where she’d be and then grabbed a towel, her sunscreen flip-flops, and a tote bag with her essentials before heading out the door.

y/n was just fully relaxed after being splashed when her senses picked up something she didn’t want to hear. She lifted her head slightly further out of the water so she could hear and it confirmed that Veronica and Grace were walking in her direction. There was a clattering of suitcases on the ground and y/n quickly pressed herself to the side of the pool so that neither of them could see her, or more specifically, so Grace couldn’t see her. y/n did want to say goodbye to Veronica but not at the expense of having to see Grace. She knew that was selfish, but she and Kira were good friends, and y/n hadn’t fully processed what Grace’s betrayal had meant for them as a group yet. It would change the whole dynamic and she didn’t want to hear Grace apologize again, to grovel at her feet. She was angry with Grace and what she’d done. For now, she wanted to be justifiably angry. Plus, if Veronica was leaving early, she could stay hidden, both were forms of coping. y/n’s chest was pressed against the wall and the texture of the pool scratched her skin slightly. She listened as Grace talked to Veronica. She groaned for a while and Veronica reminded Grace that she expected to be paid back for the flight and highly recommended she stay below the radar for a few weeks before talking to y/n or Kira. Grace agreed and then the sound of someone walking away and pulling a suitcase behind them.

y/n held her breath, not that that was going to do anything, and let it out when Veronica said, “You’re safe y/n, you can come out of hiding now.” y/n let out a chuckle and pushed herself off the wall so she could see Victoria. She watched as her friend ditched her bags and moved to the gate separating the pool from the outside of the hotel and didn’t notice as the ring holding the front of her suit together cracked and the fabric on one side of the suit slowly started creeping down to the opening. Veronica moved to the side of the pool and knelt near y/n who was about to get out of the pool, but Veronica said, “You don’t have to get out y/n. You look like you’re having fun and you should enjoy it.” y/n looked up at her friend and could tell she was being serious. After all, y/n would get Veronica’s perfect travel outfit wet if she tried to hug her goodbye, so instead she asked, “Are you leaving now too?”

Veronica nodded and replied, “Yeah. You know how crazy flights are right now with all the cancellations and it’s going to be a long wait anyway, so I might as well get there early. It can’t hurt.” y/n nodded along even though it had been years since she’d flown. y/n was looking for something to say apart from bye, but couldn’t find the words. Veronica smiled and said, “I enjoyed catching up with you yesterday, y/n. I promise to come down and see you more often, okay?” y/n nodded suddenly feeling emotional. She blinked rapidly a few times before saying, “Please. I’d like that Ver. I’m sorry it ended like this.”

Veronica snorted and said, “You don’t need to apologize y/n. Grace does. Now, can you promise me something before I go and let you get back to the pool?” y/n nodded not sure what to expect. Ver took a breath and looked over at the street where her Uber would be to pick her up in a second before turning back and said, “Do something fun today. Go out, eat something good, drink something nice. You deserve it.” y/n felt herself soften and the tears recede. She and Ver were not much alike, but Veronica was a good person and could read her well. y/n finally replied, “I will. Promise. Now you’d better go, those four bags aren’t going to carry themselves to the Uber.” Veronica laughed loud and bright as she stood up and replied, “I bet if I paid them enough they would.” As she got to her bags and started pulling them toward the waiting car y/n shouted, “Oh get out of here, and have a safe flight!” Ver gave a final wave and then moved beyond where y/n could see.

y/n turned around to relax again, and this was when her swimsuit fully betrayed her. The other half of the front ring snapped and it fell into the water leaving her front fully open. If it hadn’t been for y/n covering her chest in embarrassment, she would have flashed everyone at the pool. As y/n gripped the thin fabric to her chest with one hand, she turned around with the other and grabbed onto the wall again. To add insult to injury, her left strap also fell apart, the thin stitching fraying with y/n’s small movements in the water. y/n let out a breath and firmly kept her hand in place as she rested her head on the hand that was holding her to the wall. She thunked her head softly against her arm a few times. Her suit falling apart felt like a metaphor for this trip and her adult life in general. The cheapness of her clothes was a reminder of her economic status that none of her other friends seemed to worry about, even if they should. After a moment of accepting the situation, y/n looked behind her shoulder to see the rest of the pool. For some reason it seemed like the number of people enjoying the water had increased, especially the children present even though she knew it wasn’t possible. No one apart from Veronica had come or gone from the space. y/n took a breath and considered her options. The most obvious would be to just get out of the pool, but now the kids were running around as their moms paid less attention to them.

The simple choice was to use both of her hands to heave her body from the pool to the side, but that would require both of her hands and would result in her top opening or coming off altogether, and with the kids around, she didn’t want to flash them, or anyone for that matter. The next option was to shimmy all the way around the pool with one hand, make it to the ladder in the shallow end, and climb out that way. However, the ladders were both near couples and she couldn’t bear the idea of having to make her way out of the water with the younger and attractive couples looking directly at her and realizing what was happening. Then there was the option of calling for help, either from one of the younger people closer to her age, or to one of the parents, but everyone suddenly seemed so involved: gossiping, sleeping, reading, scolding a child for running around. Although everyone seemed occupied, it also felt like everyone was also looking at her. Like they knew what was happening and having a little laugh about it at her expense.

y/n turned quickly back to the wall when one of the moms did look her way. y/n closed her eyes and knew she was making up the other people’s reactions. No one really cared about her and that was part of what made her so aware. Where was her mom friend when she needed one? y/n also knew she was tired; she’d hardly gotten any sleep last night and it was wearing her out. y/n wished she wasn’t so self-conscious. With those thoughts, she also tried to think of any other means of escaping her current situation that didn’t involve someone who was at the pool in that moment and she realized she could just wait for someone who seemed less judgy to come outside and she’d flag them down to help her. It’d be embarrassing as hell, but she’d likely never see them again, as she was leaving tomorrow.

This idea seemed great until it felt like hours before anyone else came outside. The first few people weren’t great candidates. They were either elderly or had kids, or were attached at the hip. y/n was beginning to give up hope and feel the skin of her fingers wrinkle from the water. She was also cold now, half from being in the shadow of the tall hotel, and half from the humiliation of being in such a position. Finally, someone came out of the building’s side entrance and toward the pool. The hotel was really nice, above her budget, and the pool area was buffeted by greenery and an interior courtyard that had a path leading to the parking out in the back. So unless a guest wanted to use the pool, sit in the courtyard, or take the scenic route to their car, there wasn’t much need for the path sitting a few feet from where y/n now clung to the wall shivering. But the man who walked out the door and was quickly getting closer seemed like an apt candidate to help. He looked older, but not too old, and he was moving at a leisurely pace. He was wearing a suit and held a briefcase which meant he was probably leaving to go somewhere important and would quickly forget this inconvenience ever happened to him.

Aaron took the long way out to his car. Through the lobby and then around by the courtyard and pool. The little courtyard was cute, enclosed by plants with a small fountain in the center of the space. There were benches around the space that would be nice to sit at and have a coffee and read for a while. Aaron assumed the space didn’t get used very often. Not many people came to hotels to just stay on the property. He stood there for a moment enjoying the quiet, the solitude he was sure he wouldn’t find at the conference. Beside the small trickle of water from the fountain, he could hear splashing from the pool. The water looked bright blue and he imagined himself spending a few hours there instead of the cold convention center.

Apart from his qualms about his older body, he would love it, and he could always wear a t-shirt over his trunks. After heaving a sigh, he checked his watch, and if was very much time for him to head out. He was already stalling, so he moved toward the pool. His mind was in another place when he heard someone calling, “Sir. Sir, could you…” Aaron’s head snapped toward the pool when he realized the small voice was calling him. It had to be him because he was the only one there and he was the only “Sir” around. He caught the eyes of a woman close to him. She was on the edge of the pool and he could just see her head and shoulders. As soon as their eyes met she suddenly turned her eyes away and flushed like she was embarrassed about something. Hotch blinked a few times trying to determine if he was the source of discomfort, or if it was something else.

He finally cleared his head and stepped forward and asked, “Yes. Sorry, can I help you?” The woman only seemed to be more flustered as she replied, “I’m sorry to bother you, but could you get my towel from the chair over there?” and then much more softly, “Sorry,” again. Aaron’s eyes flitted from her to the chair and back. It was an odd request. By all means it looked like the woman could just get out of the pool and get the towel herself. However, Aaron paused here. He never wanted to assume someone’s story even though that was a huge part of his job.

He reminded himself that he didn’t know this person’s background or medical history and that she might not be as able-bodied as he assumed. After all, she had seen embarrassed to ask for help and her avoiding his eyes was indicative of her discomfort about something. Hotch had decided to help y/n before he understood why she had asked for help. ‘Be a gentleman’ Aaron reminded himself. It was what Garcia always called him when he opened the door for her or got her a little treat. He didn’t feel like he deserved the title, but now was his chance to live up to the name. He stepped toward the gate as she said, “I’ve got you. I’ll be right there.”

There were other people at the pool, but Hotch didn’t pay attention to them. He moved to the chair the woman had gestured at and picked up the white towel that was warmed from sitting in the sun. He moved back toward y/n and as he got closer he realized what was happening. He noticed that only one of the straps on the woman’s suit was attached, and the style was clearly not meant to be asymmetrical. As he moved forward y/n with the towel, he averted his eyes to make sure he didn’t get a look at y/n’s chest which she was covering to the best of her ability. He knelt at the lip of the pool and asked, “Um, how would you like to do this?”

y/n flushed looking up at the man. He was attractive, more so now that she had a closer look at him and the sun wasn’t shining directly in her eyes. She wanted to nod her head at the stupidity of thinking the man was hot, but couldn’t avoid memorizing the shape of his face in the back of her mind. For a second she wished he was ugly, it would make her situation less awkward. y/n shook her head slightly to clear it before saying, “You can just drop it down. I’ll figure it out. Sorry to have bothered you.” Hotch bit the inside of his cheek and replied, “Don’t be sorry. Stuff happens.” Hotch felt bad just leaving like that and he continued, “I can hand this to you and I’ll turn around. And when you’re comfortable I can help you out if you like. That way you don’t have to cross the pool in a wet towel. No one else will have to know.” He said the last part softly like he understood what y/n was going through; deeper than just in that moment. y/n looked up at him and tried to avoid shaking with how cold she was. The man seemed so sincere that she nodded her head and pushed off the wall slightly as he handed her the towel in her free hand. True to his word the tall man turned away, giving y/n a nice look at his long legs. She stopped herself from leering and pulled the towel under the water getting it wet. She pulled it around her and wrapped it in the front so it would cover her chest. She let her hand that had been giving her privacy for a while rest and it ached with how hard she’d been pressing against her skin. When y/n was happy that the towel was secure to her body, she moved back to the wall and said, “I’m good now.”

Aaron turned around and knelt back down. y/n looked up at him and said, “You don’t have to do this. You’ll get your suit wet.” Hotch brushed off the woman’s concerns. He could sense the tiredness in her voice and he wouldn’t leave now until he knew she was okay. He did, however, slip off his suit jacket and tossed it onto an empty chair. Then he slipped off his shoes and socks. The warmth of the ground warmed the soles of Aaron’s feet as he crouched down again and said, “There. Now it’s not a problem. Can you give me your arms? I’ll pull you up.” y/n didn’t really think as she nodded and lifted her hands out of the water and into the strong grip of the stranger's hands. Aaron pulled back and up slightly, heaving the weight of the woman and now sopping fabric out of the pool. It wasn’t hard work, but y/n’s knees went a bit slack as she got back on dry land and Hotch quickly moved to hold her under her armpits.

It wasn’t until Aaron had more contact on y/n’s body that he realized she was shivering, but hiding it well. Without asking, Hotch carefully helped y/n to a seat next to the one he’d tossed his jacket on. y/n let him lead her and she watched as he moved toward the towel bin to get her a fresh, dry towel. He grabbed one from the bin and then moved back to y/n whose eyes were on the ground. She felt a bit disoriented but better now that she was sitting down. When Hotch was in front of her again he pulled the new towel’s edge in his hand and moved it to y/n’s chest. He half suggested, half commanded, “Why don’t you slip off the wet towel and I’ll tie this in the back?” y/n nodded listlessly and did as the man said, letting the cold towel fall into her lap. She placed her arms over the dry fabric and she watched as the man moved behind her to tuck the ends of the towel over itself to keep her modest.

Hotch moved back in front of y/n and rubbed her arms trying to get her grounded and her circulation going. y/n snapped back to herself when she realized that the man’s sleeves were wet, pressed to the arms and skin underneath. She looked up at him and in a clearer voice said, “Thank you so much. Really, I’m fine now.” Aaron stopped his hands midway up her arms and said, “Don’t mention it. You should maybe get inside. Drink something sweet to get your blood sugar up.” y/n nodded and said again, “Thanks so much, this is so embarrassing. Could I pay you back the kindness? If you’re going to be back tonight I’ll grab you a drink at the hotel bar. Or a better bar if you know one in town.” Aaron’s face broke out into a smile and he said, “I’d like that. How about we meet at the lobby at 8:00?” y/n smiled back, suddenly not so cold, and said, “That’s perfect for me.” Hotch stood and started moving to his car, knowing he was late now. As he rolled up his sleeves he said, “I’m Aaron Hotchner, by the way.” y/n waved sheepishly and said, “I’m y/n y/l/n. See you tonight, Aaron.” By the time her words were out of y/n’s mouth Aaron was almost out of sight, but they had a plan and it made y/n feel much better than she had this morning, something she’d have to think about all day.

Once Hotch got to his car he let himself relax. Yeah, he was going to be late to the convention, but he didn’t care. Others had been late yesterday so he drove toward the coffee shop, he felt lighter now. Better. Something to look forward to tonight. Being able to do something just for the fun of it, something that would be so easy for Morgan, Penelope, or Em was a nice change of pace. It would help him get through what he was sure to be a long day.

y/n also felt better. Mostly because she’d been seen by someone. It was a stranger, but a kind one. One that hadn’t begrudgingly helped her and then left instantly. No, Aaron had done more than he needed, and even though she felt like a teenager being set up on a blind date, she was excited for the evening. y/n went inside and grabbed a glass of juice from the cold juice bar, an amenity that hotels she normally stayed at didn’t have, before moving back to her empty room and falling into bed. An hour later she found that Kira had texted her and invited y/n up to her room where she went and described what had happened that morning. Kira seemed excited for y/n and even after y/n asked if she was sure it was fine that she left her friend for a few hours, Kira said, “y/n, you should go. Have some fun. God knows you deserve it after last night and this morning. Put on something pretty and get a drink, and just have a good time, okay?” y/n smiled in a way that showed the small wrinkles near her eyes and said, “Alright, I think I can do that. God you would have loved the way this guy looked this morning. Tall dark and handsome. It’s like I won the jackpot or something.” A few moments later Kira and y/n were in fits of laughter as her friend came up with a more and more outlandish way for y/n to get a picture of Aaron without him knowing about it.

y/n stood in the lobby at 7:55. She was wearing a nice outfit, but nothing overdone. She reminded herself that this wasn’t a date, multiple times, but had given her makeup a good attempt. Kira had helped her make sure it looked good. y/n was sure that this outfit wouldn’t fall apart on her. It was a skirt she’d had for ages and a shirt that flattered her. She paired it with some black tights and creepers, which she kept shuffling around in while she waited for Aaron. The ding of the elevator made y/n turn her head, and she smiled as Aaron walked out. He had changed from his business attire. Now he was in a pair of slacks and a dark polo shirt. The man kept looking better and better each time y/n saw him. She raised a hand and gave a small wave as he walked over to her. When Aaron got in front of her he said, “Hey, y/n. You’re looking well.” y/n was flustered by the compliment and replied, “Um, thank you. You’re looking well yourself. Those dark colors compliment you.” Hotch let out a little breath and watched as y/n eyed the bar skeptically. She looked back at him and asked, “So what’s the plan, Stan?” Aaron also looked over the crowded, overpriced hotel car and replied, “Well, there’s a place three blocks from here that has better and cheaper drinks than… that.” He eyed the bar, and from his periphery saw y/n relax. He wasn’t sure why she calmed, but did add, “That is if you’re comfortable walking with me.”

y/n took a second to think about what Aaron had said. Not that she was reckless, but she’d done dumb things in the hope of love before. Stupid really given she was a woman. That had been years ago, and she’d been single for so long it had become her norm. This had been helpful last night as her friends looked singleness in the face for the first time in years. It seemed that y/n’s old habits in dating hadn’t fully left her, and only Aaron mentioning that she’d be walking alone with him reminded her how stupid she had been. However, Aaron didn’t seem like the type of man who would harm her. He had helped her that morning and she slowly said, “No, I don’t mind. It will stop me from drinking too much probably which is a good thing. I fly out tomorrow morning, so no drunken foolishness for me.” Aaron smiled and said, “Alright then. We’ll get you back after one drink.” The pair moved outside into the cool air of summer. It was slightly humid and the walk was short. The bar was small and cozy. It was full of neon signs, and although y/n had offered to buy their drinks, Aaron picked up the tab anyway. He got a gin and tonic while he ordered y/n’s favorite drink. She asked for it to be a double as she was only having one.

They found a table in the corner and y/n and Hotch clinked glasses and each took a drink. There was an awkward pause as neither knew what to say. y/n finally came up with the words she wanted to, “Thank you for this morning. I hope I didn’t make you late for whatever you were heading to.” Hotch let out a chuckle as he replied,” I was happy to help. I was a bit late, but I wanted to be honest. I even got a coffee before heading to the conference.” y/n smiled happy to know she hadn’t been an inconvenience. She always assumed that corporate conferences were boring as shit and asked, “What was it a conference on?”

Aaron took a moment to think about this response. He rarely started out that he was in the FBI. He found that it garnered immediate distrust with many, so he went with the easier option of, “Tech and AI.” The comment piqued y/n’s interest. Aaron didn’t look like a pretentious tech bro, and he was older than most of the men that she’d seen who were Musk fanatics. She probed for more information and asked, “Oh like ChatGTP is ruining students and enabling plagiarizing, or that The Patriot Act is good and we need for of that for State security?” Aaron hadn’t expected those two options and replied slowly, “More along the lines of the Patriot Act, but mostly cybercrime and cyber security.” y/n found herself relaxing again. ‘So he’s not a tech bro type.’ y/n continued speaking, “To be honest I never fully understood The Patriot Act. We covered it in high school APUSH, but it was at the end of the year and we breezed over it so fast. I just know its bad and scary but even that’s just from people I hear talking about it.” Hotch took a sip of his drink and said, “Well, it’s, complicated, that’s for sure. I could try and fill you in, but it’d take more than one drink for that.” He paused before asking, “So what brought you here?”

y/n thought about why she’d exactly said yes to her friends. Why did she spend so much money? y/n said, “Well it was supposed to be a girl's trip, but it didn’t end so well. I guess I was hoping to rekindle some of that college energy, but I didn’t. I’m excited to go home if I’m being honest.” y/n stopped talking, realizing she was saying more than she intended. She tried to blink back her emotions and Aaron placed a hand on her shoulder. He understood what it meant to be sad somewhere else, somewhere far from home. Not an earth-shattering sadness, just a longing for something long gone. Something that had passed away with time. He swallowed and replied, “I’m sorry. I hope at least tonight is fun, has been fun?” y/n looked up at him and smiled, saying, “It has, it’s been great. I might actually get another drink, kind of fun. I’m down to learn about The Patriot Act after all.” Aaron couldn’t stop his laugh and caught y/n eyeing the dance floor. After he got her a second drink he’d suggest it, and he’d have a story to tell Morgan for once. If things felt good between the two of them when they got back to the hotel, he might offer y/n his number. He picked up his glass and y/n did too. They looked at each other and clinked glasses again. Aaron started the toast again by saying, “To learning U.S. history,” and y/n said, “To silver linings.” As they finished their drinks, Aaron looked down and noticed y/n’s hand brushed up against his. He moved his fingers slightly and brushed her fingers with his. The night was early and they both had flights in the morning, but there was still time to make it one to remember.

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doctorbitchcrxft · 10 months ago

Text

Hook Man | Supernatural Series Rewrite | Dean Winchester x Reader

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Warnings: canon violence, canon gore, mentions of religious trauma/parental abuse

Word Count: 4869

A/N: Guys. We hit a bit of a milestone earlier in the week. Just wanted to say in celebration that I am so beyond grateful for all of your love and support. I'm so glad you guys are enjoying reading this as much as I enjoy writing it! Giving big big kisses to all of you!!! Taglist is open!!

Edit: Hey.... I suck I forgot to add the taglist when I published. So sorry!!! fixed now!!!!

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Supernatural Series Rewrite Masterlist

Supernatural Series Rewrite Playlist

You and Dean were sat at an outdoor cafe; coffee cups in hand. He was clacking away at his laptop while you wrote in your journal. You wrote your excerpt on the shapeshifter next to a drawing of Dean’s necklace.

“Is that…?” Dean asked, pointing to your journal.

You nodded.

“I didn’t know you could draw,” he said.

“No offense, lovebug, but you don’t know much of anything about me,” you retorted.

He scoffed. “Will you take the compliment and be quiet?”

“I didn’t hear a compliment,” you giggled. “Well, maybe in ‘Dean Winchester Land’ it was a compliment.”

“Oh, shut up,” he responded playfully.

Sam hung up the payphone he was standing in and came back over to your table.

“Your, uh, half-caf, double vanilla latte is gettin’ cold over here, Francis,” Dean jabbed at his brother.

“Hey, don’t knock it ‘til you try it,” you told him.

“So, anything?” Dean asked Sam.

Sam huffed. “I had ‘em check the FBI’s Missing Persons Data Bank. No John Does fitting Dad’s description. I even ran his plates for traffic violations.”

“Sam, I’m tellin’ ya, I don’t think Dad wants to be found.”

Sam looked disappointed.

“Check this out.” Dean turned his laptop around to you and Sam. “It’s a news item out of Planes Courier. Ankeny, Iowa. It’s only about a hundred miles from here.”

“Thank god, a short trip,” you sighed.

“ ‘The mutilated body was found near the victim’s car, parked on 9 Mile Road,’ “ Sam read from the article.

“Keep reading.” Dean nodded at his laptop.

“ ‘Authorities are unable to provide a realistic description of the killer. The sole eyewitness, whose name has been withheld, is quoted as saying the attacker was invisible.’ “

That last line caught your attention. “Could be something interesting.”

“Or it could be nothing at all,” Sam protested. “One freaked out witness who didn’t see anything? Doesn’t mean it’s the Invisible Man.”

“But what if it is? Dad would check it out,” Dean responded.

***

The one hundred mile drive concluded with the boys dropping you off at a sorority house.

“Remind me why I have to play barbies for the week again?” you asked.

“Because this is Lori Sorensen’s sorority house; the witness from the killing,” Sam replied.

“Great,” you mumbled.

“Have fun making s’mores and singing campfire songs,” Dean remarked.

“Bite me,” you snarked. “You’re going to a frat, though, Steve McQueen, so I wouldn’t be so cocky.”

“Yeah, don’t remind me,” he grumbled.

“I’ll catch up with you guys later,” you said and shouldered your duffel bag. You bid them goodbye and reluctantly marched up to the door of the sorority house.

A girl with long, dark curls opened the door. “Hi,” she said. “Can I… help you?”

“Yeah, I’m (Y/N),” you explained. “I’m your sorority sister from Ohio State. Do you guys have an extra bed I could sleep in? I just transferred here.”

“Sure,” she grinned. “I’m Taylor, by the way.”

“Nice to meet you.”

She led you inside and introduced you to Lori Sorensen. She was a sweet girl; very naive and a little stuck-up. Taylor seemed a little more like a party girl, but still relatively tame. You decided you could gel with these girls for the time being.

They told you they were headed to Sunday service at Lori’s father’s church and invited you to go with them. You obliged.

In the middle of the introductory rites, you heard the heavy church door slam shut. Your head swiveled to find Sam and Dean frozen and looking guilty. You scoffed amusedly and rolled your eyes, turning your attention forward for the rest of the service.

Taylor invited you and Lori out to a party after the service, but Lori said she couldn’t. Her father had dinner with her every Sunday since her mother passed away. She and Taylor hugged and Taylor bid you goodbye before heading off.

Sam and Dean came over to you and Lori.

“Guys!” you said excitedly. “Sam, Dean, this is Lori.” You introduced her to them. “They’re my friends from Ohio. They transferred with me.”

“I saw you inside,” she told them.

“We don’t wanna bother you. We just heard about what happened and…”

Dean cut his brother off. “We wanted to say how sorry we were.”

You knew where this was going; he was cruising for another hookup.

“I kind of know what you’re going through,” Sam broke back in. “I-I saw someone..get hurt once. It’s something you don’t forget.”

Lori nodded slightly. Just then, her father came up to your group.

“Dad, um, this is Sam, Dean, and (Y/N). They’re new students.”

Dean shook the reverend’s hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir. I must say, that was an inspiring sermon.”

“Thank you very much,” he smiled. “It’s so nice to find young people who are open to the Lord’s message.”

“Yes, sir,” you replied and began leading him away from Sam and Lori. “Actually, we’re looking for a new church group…”

***

Later that day, you and the boys were sitting together in the local library. Sam relayed to you what Lori had told him about the passing of the guy she was with.

“So, you believe her?” Dean asked him.

“I do,” he nodded.

“Yeah, I think she’s hot, too.” Dean smirked at him.

“You think almost everything with a vagina and legs is hot, Dean,” you remarked.

“Not you,” he jabbed back, still smirking.

You clutched a hand to your chest. “I’m hurt, you dick.”

He rolled his eyes at you.

“Can we focus, please?” Sam broke in. “There’s something in her eyes. And listen to this: she heard scratching on the roof. Found the bloody body suspended upside down over the car.”

“Wait, the body suspended? That sounds like the—”

Sam cut you off. “Yeah, I know, the Hook Man legend.”

“That’s one of the most famous urban legends ever,” Dean added. “You don’t think that we’re dealing with the Hook Man.”

“Every urban legend has a source. A place where it all began,” said Sam.

“Yeah, but what about the phantom scratches and the tire punctures and the invisible killer?”

“Well, maybe the Hook Man isn’t a man at all. What if it’s some kind of spirit?”

You had the librarian bring over boxes of arrest records. The three of you poured through pages upon pages for hours.

“Hey, check this out. 1862,” Sam said finally. “A preacher named Jacob Karns was arrested for murder. Looks like he was so angry over the red light district in town that one night he killed 13 prostitutes. Uh, right here, ‘some of the deceased were found in their bed, sheets soaked with blood. Others suspended upside down from the limbs of trees as a warning against sins of the flesh.’ “

“Get this, the murder weapon?” Dean was looking at another page. “Looks like the preacher lost his hand in an accident. Had it replaced with a silver hook.”

You pointed to a page in Sam’s book. “Look where all this happened. Nine Mile Road.”

“Same place where the frat boy was killed,” Sam chimed in.

“Nice job, Dr. Venkamen and Annie Potts. Let’s check it out,” the older brother quipped.

The three of you headed to Nine Mile Road. Dean parked off the road in a clearing in the woods. He popped the trunk and handed Sam a shotgun. “Here you go.”

“If it is a spirit, buckshot won’t do much good,” Sam said.

“Yeah, rock salt. It won’t kill ‘em. But it’ll slow ‘em down.” Dean led the three of you through the clearing.

“That’s pretty good. You and Dad think of this?”

“I told you. You don’t have to be a college graduate to be a genius.”

“Cool it, Winchester. You and your daddy aren’t the first people to think of rock salt bullets.” You loaded your own gun with shells of your own.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.”

“They’re a bitch to roll,” you said.

“Oh, one hundred percent,” he remarked.

You suddenly heard rustling in the bushes.

“Over there,” you whispered to Sam. The two of you aimed your guns and cocked it.

The “ghost” came out from behind the trees. A sheriff.

‘Dammit.’

“Put the gun down now!” he yelled. “Now! Put your hands behind your head.”

“Wait, wait, okay!” Dean told him.

You immediately dropped your gun and put your hands up.

“Now get down on your knees. Come on, do it! On your knees!”

You three obeyed.

“Now get down on your bellies,” he commanded. “Come on, do it!”

“Are you just on a power trip or something? ‘Cause— ah!” you were cut off by a sharp kick to the shin from Sam.

The sheriff brought the three of you into the station. It was early the next morning by the time you were able to leave.

“Saved your asses!” Dean jeered. “Talked the sheriff down to a fine. I am Matlock.”

“How was it that you were left in charge of talking him down?” You raised a brow at him. “And how in the fuck did you do it?”

“Sweetheart, this may surprise you, but I’m good at my job. And I told him Sam was a dumbass pledge, you were his girlfriend we’d dragged along, and we were hazing you.”

You and Sam both recoiled at the idea of dating each other.

“First of all, ew,” you started, “No offense, Sam.”

“None taken.”

“But what about the shotguns?”

“I said that you were hunting ghosts and the spirits were repelled by rock salt. You know, typical Hell Week prank.”

“And he believed you?” you asked incredulously.

“Well, Sam looks like a dumbass pledge.”

“Can’t argue with that.” You stuck your tongue out at Sam.

Moments later, several officers ran out of the building to their cruisers. Barely needing to share a look with the boys, you hurried into the car and sped away to follow them.

You could see Lori wrapped in a disposable blanket in front of the sorority house you were staying in. You weren’t exactly sure what was going on, but you had no doubt that it was another murder. The stretcher carrying a body bag rolling out of the front door affirmed that thought seconds later.

Dean parked the Impala around the back of the house.

“Why would the Hook Man come here?” Sam asked as the three of you crept around the building. “This is a long way from Nine Mile Road.”

“Maybe he’s not haunting the scene of his crime. Maybe it’s about something else,” Dean suggested.

You pulled his arm back seconds later to avoid being seen by your “sorority sisters.” You used the fact that you had now pretty much pulled yourself in front of him to allow you to lead the way up to the second floor.

While Dean made a stupid joke about a naked pillow fight, Sam was busy giving you a boost before climbing up himself. You looked back down at the ground to see Dean struggling to find his footing.

“Need help?” you smirked.

“No,” he grumbled.

“I think you do.”

“No, I don’t.”

You waited patiently, leaning your head in your hands on the railing of the balcony and smiling down at him. He struggled for a few more moments before he conceded. All he did was open and close his hand he was extending upwards, similar to a toddler asking to be picked up.

“What’s the magic word?” you sing-songed.

“Come on!” he hissed. “Please?”

“There we go,” you smiled. You dug your heels into the ground and pulled him up.

You then realized the window you were entering was the one in Lori and Taylor’s closet. You hoped to god in that moment that Taylor wasn’t the one dead.

Your fears were realized, however, when you entered Lori and Taylor’s room to find the words “Aren’t you glad you didn’t turn on the light?” crudely etched into the wall above Taylor’s blood soaked bed. You didn’t exactly get attached to people on hunts, but seeing good people die was never easy for you. It didn’t get easier. Your dad would call you soft, but you always liked to look at your compassion as a strength.

“ ‘Aren’t you glad you didn’t turn on the light?’ That’s right out of the legend,” Sam whispered.

“Yeah, that’s classic Hook Man all right.” Dean tapped his nose as he spoke. “It’s definitely a spirit.”

“Yeah, I’ve never smelled ozone this strong before,” Sam muttered.

“(Y/N), you okay?” Dean asked you.

You nodded, biting your lip. “Yeah. Fine. It’s just… look at this symbol.” You were referencing the one beneath the writing. “Does that look familiar to you?”

Your head jerked toward the sound of footsteps approaching. You quickly shooed Sam and Dean back into the closet and out of the house. Thankfully, you made it back to the car without being seen. You pulled the copy you’d made at the library of one of the pages on Jacob Karns out of the backseat. That was where you had seen the cross symbol; on Karns’s hook.

You showed it to the boys. “Told ya.”

“Alright, let’s find the dude’s grave, salt and burn the bones, and put him down,” Dean said.

Sam took the page from your hand. “ ‘After execution, Jacob Karns was laid to rest in an Old North Cemetery. In an unmarked grave.’ “ He flicked the page with his finger, looking aggravated; as were you and Dean.

“Super,” the older brother muttered.

“Ok. So we know it’s Jacob Karns. But we still don’t know where he’ll manifest next. Or why,” Sam pointed out.

“I could just be spitballing here, but Lori definitely has something to do with it,” you said, looking up at the sorority house.

***

You managed to get into a party at the fraternity house Sam and Dean were staying in later that night. Dean had been busy mingling with thin college girls dressed in mini skirts while Sam stuck to the outside wall. You bounced around from talking to Sam and hustling some of the drunk frat guys in multiple rounds of pool.

The three of you reunited around the pool table you’d been dominating that night.

“Man, you’ve been holding out on me,” Dean told Sam. “This college thing is awesome!” He smiled and winked at a passing girl.

Sam looked intensely uncomfortable. “This wasn’t really my experience.”

“Let me guess. Libraries, studying, straight A’s?”

Sam nodded. You chortled.

“What a geek. Alright, you do your homework?”

“Yeah. It was bugging me, right? So how is the Hook Man tied up with Lori? So I think I came up with something.” Sam unfolded a piece of paper.

“1932. Clergyman arrested for murder. 1967. Seminarian held in hippie rampage,” Dean read.

Your eyebrows knitted together.

“There’s a pattern here,” Sam explained. “In both cases, the suspect was a man of religion who openly preached against immorality. And then found himself wanted for killings he claimed were the work of an invisible force. Killings carried out— get this— with a sharp instrument.”

“What’s the connection to Lori?” Dean asked.

“Her dad. Man of religion who openly preaches against immorality,” you pointed out. “Maybe this time, though, instead of saving the whole town, he’s just trying to save his kid.”

“Reverend Sorensen,” Dean tsked. “You think he’s summoning the spirit?”

“Maybe it’s like when a poltergeist can haunt a person instead of a place,” you suggested.

“Yeah, the spirit latches onto the reverend’s repressed emotions, feeds off them, yeah, okay.”

“Without the reverend ever even knowing it,” Sam chimed in.

“Either way, you should keep an eye on Lori tonight,” Dean told his brother.

“What about you?”

Dean looked over to the opposite side of the pool table where the blonde you’d been playing with smiled at him. He reluctantly said, “(Y/N) and I are gonna go see if we can find that unmarked grave.”

“We are? I wanted to play more eight-ball,” you told him.

He looked back over at the blonde, back at you, and shook his head in disappointment. “C’mon. I’m not happy about it either.”

***

“Are you sure you don’t wanna go back?” you asked Dean as the two of you trudged through the Old North Cemetery. You were holding shovels and flashlights searching for the grave of Jacob Karns.

He shot you a look.

“I know, I know, I’m kidding,” you laughed. “But seriously. Now that we’re… acquaintances, we should go out to a bar sometime. Preferably one with a pool table.”

“That’d be cool, actually,” he said, smirking at you. “You’re pretty good.”

“What, at pool?”

He nodded. “I could probably still kick your ass, though.”

“You’re on, pretty boy.”

He stopped and turned to you. “Don’t objectify me.”

“What?” you asked, stopping next to him. “You know you’re gorgeous. You frequently use it to your advantage.” You marched on.

You smiled when you heard him mutter, “You are so confusing, woman.”

You walked for a few more minutes before your flashlight landed on a grave marked with that cross symbol from Taylor’s room. “Jackpot.”

You and Dean set to work exhuming Jacob’s corpse. Your back and shoulders ached more and more the deeper you dug. “How fucking far down is six feet?” you remarked breathlessly.

“I don’t know, but next time, I get to watch the cute girl’s house,” he replied.

“Aw, you don’t wanna spend quality time with this cute girl?” you asked playfully.

He eyed you strangely with a lopsided smile.

“What?” you asked.

“Nothing. You’re just funny,” he told you.

You smiled back and got back to digging. Your shovel finally hit the wooden box lying below. You broke through it to reveal his corpse. Or at least, what remained of it.

“Hello, preacher,” Dean said. He threw his shovel aside and helped you out of the hole you had dug. After he had climbed out, you poured salt and lighter fluid all over the bones.

“Goodbye, preacher.” Dean threw a match down into the grave.

Your nose twisted up in disgust. “I will never get used to that smell.”

“What, burnt, hundred-year-old preacher? Me neither.”

You and Dean packed up and headed back to the car that was parked in the cemetery’s parking lot. Your body was exhausted.

“Um, weird question,” you started.

He turned to you and threw his shovel and duffel bag in the trunk.

“You think we could sleep in your car for a bit? I’m running on two days of no sleep.”

He shrugged. “I don’t see why not. It should all be over now and Sam should be layin’ it down with Lori.”

And so, you did. You stretched out over the backseat, and Dean laid down on the front. A few moments of silence passed between the two of you, and strangely, you no longer felt tired. You supposed it was the strangeness of the situation. You were now sharing a somewhat intimate moment with a man you despised just weeks prior. You weren’t quite sure where your relationship with Dean was heading, and that bothered you a bit.

“Dean?”

“Hm.”

“Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, (Y/N).”

***

Four hours of shut-eye later, you felt recharged. You awoke to the sound of Dean’s phone vibrating over which Sam told you to meet him at a hospital.

“Hospital? Why? Is he okay?” you asked Dean, climbing over the front seat to sit shotgun.

“I think so, but he said the reverend’s hurt.”

About fifteen minutes later, you were walking down a long corridor only to be stopped by two cops in wide-brimmed hats.

The sheriffs put a hand to Dean’s chest to stop him.

“No, it’s alright, we’re with him. He’s my brother,” he explained. “Hey! Brother!” he called, waving dorkishly at Sam.

“Let them through.”

“Thanks.”

You and Dean began walking toward Sam, who met you in the middle.

“You okay?” Dean asked.

“Yeah,” sighed Sam.

“What the hell happened?”

“Hook Man.”

You looked incredulous. “You saw him?”

“Damn right. Why didn’t you torch the bones?” Sam responded.

“We did,” you rebutted, confused. “You sure it’s the spirit of Jacob Karns?”

“It sure as hell looked like him,” Sam returned. “And that’s not all. I don’t think the spirit is latching on to the reverend.”

“Well, duh, he wouldn’t send Hook Man after himself,” you remarked.

“I think it’s latching onto Lori. Last night she found out her father is having an affair with a married woman.” He whispered that last part.

“Damn.” You gritted your teeth. “I could see how that could upset her.”

Sam nodded. “She told me she was raised to believe that if you do something wrong, you get punished.”

“Ok, so she’s conflicted,” Dean chimed in. “And the spirit of Preacher Karns is latching on to repress the emotions and maybe he’s doing the punishing for her, huh?”

“Right,” the younger brother nodded. “Rich comes on too strong, Taylor tries to make her into a party girl, Dad has an affair.”

“Remind me not to piss this girl off,” Dean muttered. “But we burned those bones, buried them in salt, why didn’t that stop him?”

“We must’ve missed something,” you said.

“No, we burned everything in that coffin.”

“Did you get the hook?” Sam asked the two of you.

Realization struck you. “Fuck,” you grumbled. “No.”

“Why does that matter?” Dean asked.

“Well, it was the murder weapon, and in a way, it was part of him,” Sam told him.

“So, like the bones, the hook is a source of his power.”

“So if we find the hook—”

The three of you finished Sam’s sentence in unison, grinning. “We stop the Hook Man.”

“Well, back to the drawing board,” you said as the three of you began walking away from the reverend’s hospital room.

“What do you mean?” Dean asked.

“Do you know where the hook is?” you raised your eyebrows at him.

He said nothing.

“Exactly,” you giggled.

***

Your next stop was the library for the second time this hunt. As much as you liked to read, obnoxious amounts of research was not your thing. Finally, you thought you’d found something. “Log book, Iowa State Penitentiary. ‘Karns, Jacob. Personal effects: disposition thereof.’ “

“Does it mention the hook?” Sam asked you.

“I don’t know. ‘Upon execution, all earthly items shall be remanded to the prisoner’s house of worship, St. Barnabas Church,’ “ you read aloud. “That’s where Lori’s dad preaches.”

“Where Lori lives, too?” Sam asked, but it was more of a statement than a question.

“Maybe that’s why the Hook Man has been haunting reverends and reverends’ daughters for the past two hundred years,” Dean added.

“Yeah, but I think someone would’ve noticed a blood-stained, silver-handled hook hangin’ around the church or Lori’s house.”

Dean pulled out another book and slapped it down in front of you. “Check the church records.”

Sam pulled the book to sit between the two of you. You and he flipped through pages upon pages of records before he found something. “ ‘St. Barnabas donations, 1862. Received silver-handled hook from state penitentiary. Reforged.’ “ He sighed. “They melted it down. Made it into something else.”

“Goddammit,” you grumbled.

Later that night, you and the boys returned to St. Barnabas Church. Dean shouldered a duffel bag and began leading you to the church. Sam followed close behind.

“Alright, we can’t take any chances,” the older brother began. “Anything silver goes in the fire.”

“I agree. So, Lori’s still at the hospital. We’ll have to break in,” Sam added.

“Okay, take your pick,” you told him.

“I’ll take the house,” Sam responded.

“Dean and I will take the church, then.”

“We will?” the older brother asked.

“Yup.”

You led Dean up to the church. He called back to his brother. “Hey. Stay out of her underwear drawer.”

You could hear the smirk in his voice and giggled.

You took the top floor of the church while Dean scoured the basement. The two of you, along with Sam, met up in the furnace room.

“I got everything that even looked silver,” Sam told you.

“Better safe than sorry,” Dean said.

Your head turned upward at the sound of footsteps. You could hear Dean taking his gun from his jacket as you grabbed yours.

“Move, move,” Dean told you quietly.

You crept up the stairs as quietly as possible. When you got back to the ground floor, you could see Lori hunched over, her shoulders shaking. You lowered your gun and lightly pushed Sam forward. He shot you a look, but headed over to Lori anyway. You and Dean went back downstairs to continue melting the silver.

“I feel for her,” you said quietly. “I know how much religion can fuck you up.” Silver clanked against the coals in the furnace as you spoke.

Dean turned his head to you. “You do?”

You nodded. “I’ve watched so many people go through crisis after crisis when their loved ones end up dead.”

“Me too,” he said earnestly. “Probably why I don’t pray.”

“Well, it’s a little difficult to believe in a higher power when all day, everyday is blood, guts, and monsters,” you remarked.

He chuckled. “Yeah. I don’t know if I’ve met one religious hunter.”

“I have,” you said. “My mom.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. She was somehow still convinced of ‘God’s plan.’ “

“Catholic?”

“Oh, very.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” he replied playfully.

“Yeah, me too,” you smiled. “My dad wasn’t, but, uh, he had his… other issues.”

Before he could ask further questions, you heard commotion upstairs. It sounded like running heading toward the opposite side of the basement.

“C’mon,” Dean urged, sprinting out of the furnace room with his gun in hand. You followed closely behind. You could hear the breaking of boards and slamming of what you assumed were bodies that practically shook the walls that got louder as you got closer. Sam was maneuvering himself behind the Hook Man’s clunkily-moving apparition.

Dean gruffly called to his brother, “Sam, drop!”

His brother obeyed and Dean shot the Hook Man, who disappeared.

“I thought we got all the silver,” you said.

“So did I,” the older brother answered.

“Then why is he still here?” Sam’s voice was frantic.

“Well, maybe we missed something!”

You looked around and noticed Lori’s cross necklace. “Lori, where did you get that chain?”

“My father gave it to me,” she responded nervously.

“Where’d your dad get it?” Sam asked.

“He said it was a church heirloom,” she answered quickly. “He gave it to me when I started school.”

“Is it silver?!”

“Yes!”

Sam ripped the chain off her and threw it to you. You caught it with ease and went to start running back down the hall when the invisible Hook Man started dragging his hook along the wall.

You threw Sam your gun and started running down another corridor you hoped would bring you to the same destination. You could vaguely hear Dean say to his brother, “I’ll cover (Y/N), shoot anything that moves!” before you heard approaching quick footsteps behind you.

You sprinted down winding hallways and thankfully quickly made it to the furnace room. You threw the necklace into the fire and watched as it slowly began to melt. “C’mon, c’mon,” you muttered anxiously. It took longer than you would’ve liked, but the cross broke off the necklace and burned into ash. As soon as it did, you and Dean ran back to the latter’s brother to make sure the ghost was gone. Thankfully, he had, but Sam seemed injured. He was clutching his left shoulder and wincing.

You called the police to the scene and urged them to send an ambulance. They arrived in no time, and Sam was able to get his injury patched up.

“And you saw him, too?” A sheriff was asking you and writing in a notepad. “The man with the hook?”

“Yeah, we all saw him,” you responded. “We fought him off and then he ran.”

“And that’s all?” The sheriff was skeptical.

“Yes, sir.”

“Listen. You and those two boys—”

Dean came up behind you and answered for you. “Oh, don’t worry, we’re leaving town.”

You laughed at his response. Sam and Lori talking near the ambulance caught your eye. You continued watching them in the rearview mirror once you’d gotten in the backseat of the car. Sam soon left Lori, who looked after him sadly, and stooped down into the car.

“We could stay,” Dean suggested.

You could tell Sam wanted to, but he shook his head. A deflated air had settled over the car, but you knew the younger Winchester wasn’t ready for anything yet. He’d been dating Jessica for a year and a half and had just lost her less than four months ago. You knew he needed more time. The best way you knew to comfort him was to wrap your hands around his shoulders gently, minding his injury, from your place in the backseat. He tensed for a moment, but allowed you to hug him nonetheless. He responded by holding your arm with his good hand. And for a moment, if you closed your eyes, it was almost like hugging Steven again.

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