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doctorbitchcrxft · 24 days ago

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Mystery Spot | Supernatural Series Rewrite | Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Warnings: so much death. just lots of it. SMUTTTTTTTTTT (18+ MDNI!!! LEAVE!!!), car sex (yum), canon violence, canon gore,

Word Count: 7578

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Sam was incredibly insistent on working a case he’d found instead of going after Bela, much to your and Dean’s dismay. You and your partner were desperate to get your hands on her and tear her a new one.

However, you decided to humor Sam.

“I really don’t think this is gonna take that long,” you told Dean. “Should be like, a week, at most.”

You’d found a motel room in a small town in Florida. Broward County was the last place your victim had been seen. You left Sam in the room, and you and Dean went for a night drive.

“I’m runnin’ out of time, though, (Y/N). I wanna find the bitch before I croak,” he responded.

“Babe, I know. And we will,” you sighed, sadness taking over.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t ‘ve brought that up,” Dean said, referring to his nearing trip downstairs.

“No, no, it’s fine,” you told him. “I know it’s constantly on your mind. It’s constantly on mine, too.”

He threw a lingering glance at you out of the corner of his eye before looking back at the road. Then, he pulled off to the side of it in a small clearing.

“Dee, what are you doing?” you asked.

Then, his lips were on yours. You let out a small squeak in surprise, but you melted into his kiss with your eyes fluttering shut. He wrapped his arms around you and pulled you across his lap. You pressed yourself down onto his hips and began to grind slightly over the top of his growing bulge. Dean groaned into your mouth, and you pulled his hair back to get better access to kiss his neck. He squeezed your ass, making you inhale sharply, and he took the opportunity to push your lips back to his and away from his neck.

“Back seat,” he growled.

“Yeah,” you nodded breathlessly.

With Metallica’s “Nothing Else Matters” playing in the background, Dean pushed you down into the backseat. Grinding down onto your core, he pressed passionate kisses to your lips. You pulled at his shirt, trying to cue him to take it off.

He chuckled against your mouth. “So needy.” He continued to kiss you while he quickly got his shirt off, and then, his lips were back on yours. He started to kiss down your neck and pushed your shirt up over your stomach. “ ‘S this okay?”

You nodded breathlessly. “Please.”

Dean pulled your shirt over your head, then unhooked your bra, then peppered kisses between your breasts. You tugged on his hair, making him groan. You tried to grind your hips up against him for some sort of friction, but he used his free hand to press your hips down. You whined, and you could feel him smiling against your right nipple as he bit gently on it.

“Stop teasing,” you begged.

“All business tonight, huh?” Dean taunted.

“It’s been too long, c’mon,” you whined.

That seemed to get through to Dean, and he started to unbutton your jeans. When your breath hitched, he immediately stopped. “Are you sure you want this?”

You nodded frantically.

“Words, baby,” Dean said, voice low and rumbling in his chest.

“Please, fuck me, Dee,” you begged.

That was all the encouragement he needed. He discarded both your and his pants and quickly sheathed himself inside you. You took in a sharp breath. No matter how many times you’d had sex with Dean, the stretch was still surprising no matter how turned on you were.

Breathing heavily, he gave you a little time to adjust.

“Move. Move, please,” you keened.

Dean rolled his hips into yours slowly and kissed you deeply. This was different than the other times you’d had sex. While you’d had very passionate sex before as opposed to rough or kinky, this was just you and Dean. It was you and Dean in your rawest, most vulnerable forms.

Before Dean, the phrase “love making” made you cringe. Now, you knew what it felt like. The kind of love you and Dean had for each other was the love you’d been searching for all your life. As a little girl, Disney princess movies had always been fun for you to watch, but you weren’t sure you wanted such a mushy, fluffy love. As you got older, you read about Mr. Darcy and the way he loved Elizabeth. That was the kind of love you were searching for. And, in his own way, Dean loved you just as powerfully. With each deep thrust of his hips, he was proving it to you.

When you’d both cum, Dean laid on top your bare chest. The two of you just allowed time to pass as rain started to patter against the windows of the Impala and the Metallica cassette tape came to an end.

Despite Dean’s avoidance to verbally telling you he loved you, you found him showing you more and more frequently as of late. Whether it be the extra time he took to make sure you were okay on hunts, his protectiveness, or those secrets he’d gotten better and better at sharing with you, there was no doubt in your mind Dean loved you. He would clean your guns without you asking, sharpen your knives, and replace your sets of your favorite black ink pens when you’d run out of ink for your journaling and sketching. When you smiled at him, it looked as though he was studying your facial expression as if to imprint it on his mind.

You’d noticed him trying his best to tame his wandering eyes and flirtatious remarks to himself at the beginning of your relationship, and now, it wasn’t even a conscious effort. You seemed to be the only woman on the planet in his eyes, which was shocking considering the way he acted when you met him. All these things he did to make you feel more secure in your relationship proved to you how much he loved you.

With that in mind, you pressed a kiss to the top of Dean’s head and noticed he’d drifted off. You smiled thoughtfully and raked your hands through his hair to soothe him.

***

A day later, you woke up to the sound of Asia’s “Heat of the Moment” playing loudly through the radio on the nightstand between the bed you shared with Dean and Sam’s bed.

“Rise and shine, Sammy!” Dean laughed. He sat on the end of your bed, tying his shoes.

You pushed his back with your feet still under the covers. “Get your shoes off my bed, Winchester!”

“Dude, Asia?” Sam scoffed.

Dean hummed. “Come on. You love this song, and you know it.”

“Yeah, and if I ever hear it again, I'm gonna kill myself.”

Dean turned up the volume. “What? Sorry, couldn't hear you.”

You giggled, still trying to push Dean off the bed, and he suddenly flopped back down across your body. “What’s gotten into you?” you asked regarding his bright-eyed and bushy-tailed demeanor.

“I got to fuck my baby in my baby. What could be better?”

Sam groaned. “Ew, guys. Dean? Shut up.”

You grabbed a pillow and chucked it at Sam. Then, you got up and moved to the bathroom. Dean slipped a hand on the small of your back and came to brush his teeth next to you. Sam took the only remaining spot at the other sink and did the same. In the midst of you and Sam brushing your teeth, Dean gargled his spit obnoxiously.

You and Sam were disgusted, and Dean did not hide his excitement at that fact.

Next, you got dressed in the bathroom. When you headed back into the bedroom, Dean was rummaging through his duffel bag. He pulled out your black, lacy bra. “This yours?” he asked Sam.

“Dean!” you shrieked, grabbing it out of his hands and shoving it back in his bag.

He laughed before rummaging around some more and pulling out his Taurus. “Bingo.” He got up and headed toward the door. “Now, who’s ready for some breakfast?”

You rolled your eyes, smiling lopsidedly, and headed out to the car behind him.

***

The cashier was talking to an old man as you entered the diner. It was quite small, and the wood paneling on the walls was likely making the room feel smaller.

You found a booth and sat down, and Dean sat next to you. Sam sat across the table, somewhat between you and Dean on the opposite bench.

Dean noticed a poster on the wall. “Hey, Tuesday. Pig in a poke.”

“You even know what that is?” Sam grimaced.

The waitress, whose name tag read “Doris,” came up to your table. “You folks ready?”

Dean grinned. “Yes. I'll have the special, side of bacon, and a coffee.”

“Make it two coffees and a short stack,” said Sam.

“How ‘bout you, darlin’?” Doris asked you.

“I’ll take a coffee and a short stack, too. Thanks,” you smiled.

“You got it,” Doris nodded.

“I'm telling you, Sam, this job is small fry. We should be spending our time hunting down Bela,” Dean said quietly.

“Okay, sure, let's get right on that. Where is she again?” Sam remarked.

“Shut up,” Dean grumbled.

“Look. Believe me, I want to find her as bad as you do. In the meantime, we have this.” Sam pulled out a newspaper.

“Alright, so, this professor—” Dean began to read over the headline.

“Dexter Hasselback was passing through town last week when he vanished,” Sam informed.

“Last known location?” you asked.

“His daughter says he was on his way to visit the Broward County Mystery Spot,” Sam replied.

You looked down at the flier Sam had put in front of you.

Dean pulled it slightly closer to him for a better view. He read off the back of the paper, “Where the laws of physics have no meaning.”

You snickered.

Doris arrived with a tray of coffees. “Three coffees, black, and some hot sauce for the—” Doris gasped and cut herself off when the hot sauce teetered and fell off the tray. The bottle smashed to bits on the ground. “Whoops. Crap! Sorry.” She turned around to the back of house. “Cleanup!”

***

After finishing breakfast, you walked down the street hand in hand with Dean. He’d been growing more and more touchy as of late; undoubtedly as his time was drawing nearer.

A golden retriever barking pulled you out of your thoughts.

You gasped, “Puppy!” and turned your head over your shoulder to look at it.

Dean chuckled. “What are you, five?”

You shrugged. “What? I like dogs.”

Dean reached over and grabbed the Mystery Spot flier from Sam’s hands. “Sam, joints like this are only tourist traps, right? I mean, you know, balls rolling uphill, furniture nailed to the ceiling, they're only dangerous to your wallet.”

“Okay, look, I'm just saying, there are spots in the world where holes open up and swallow people. The Bermuda Triangle, uh, the Oregon Vortex—”

You cut Sam off. “Broward County Mystery Spot?”

“Well, sometimes these places are legit,” the younger brother shrugged.

“Okay, so if it is legit—” you began.

“And that’s a big ass ‘if’,” Dean interjected.

“What’s the lore?” you finished, shooting a glance at Dean.

Dean accidentally bumped into a blonde girl who was carrying a stack of papers and bustling past.

“Excuse me,” she said.

“The lore's pretty fuckin’ nuts, actually,” Sam responded. “They say these places the magnetic fields are so strong that they can bend spacetime, sending victims no one knows where.”

“Sounds a little ‘X-Files’ to me,” Dean scoffed.

You watched two movers try to get a desk through the door of an apartment complex.

“Told you it wouldn't fit,” one of them said.

“What do you want, a Pulitzer?” the other replied.

“Alright, look, I'm not saying this is really happening, but if it is, we gotta check it out; see if we can do something,” Sam continued.

“Alright, alright, we'll go tonight after they close; get ourselves a nice long look,” Dean conceded.

*** Later that night, you did just as Dean said. The man in question was shining his flashlight around the glow-in-the-dark objects. Just as he’d said, there were various pieces of furniture nailed to the ceiling. “Wow, uncanny,” he commented. Dean moved his flashlight in your direction where you inspected a lamp at an angle to the floor. “Find anything?”

“No. Sammy?”

He held an unresponsive EMF meter. “No.”

“You have any idea what you're looking for?” Dean questioned his brother.

“Uh…” Sam trailed off. “Yeah.”

You shot Sam a look.

“No,” he admitted.

You shook your head, smiling a bit.

Suddenly, a gun was pointing directly at your forehead. “What the hell are you doing here?” the voice behind the gun questioned angrily. He appeared to be the owner of the Mystery Spot.

“Whoa, whoa!” Dean said, holding his hands up in surrender. The owner moved his gun to point it at Dean.

“We can explain,” the older brother continued.

“You robbing me?!” the man shouted.

“Nobody’s robbing you, I swear,” you said.

“Don’t move!” the owner roared.

“Just putting the gun down,” Dean explained, moving very slowly.

The owner fired unexpectedly, and you shrieked in surprise. “Dean!” You rushed to his side as he fell to the ground, breathing laboriously.

“Oh, my god. Dean!” you cried, his breaths becoming more and more choked.

“Hey!” Sam shouted at the owner. “Call 9-1-1!”

“I—I didn't mean to—”

You cut the man off. “Now!” The owner left.

You cradled Dean’s head in your lap. “Oh, my god. Not like this, please…” Tears welled in your eyes. “Not yet.”

Dean choked out one last breath, and then he went still; his eyes closed.

You closed your eyes and rested your forehead against his.

“Heat of the moment,” you heard Asia singing.

Confused, your eyes snapped open.

“Rise and shine, Sammy!” Dean laughed. He sat on the end of your bed, tying his shoes.

Dean looked to Sam, waiting for a reaction. “Dude. Asia.”

You shot up and looked over at the younger Winchester for any validation that you weren’t going crazy.

He seemed confused, too. “Dean?”

Okay, so maybe you weren’t alone in this.

Dean hummed. “Come on. You love this song, and you know it.” He grooved along to the song just as he had— yesterday? In your dream?— you weren’t sure.

Then, you got up and moved to the bathroom. You just needed to get away and try to come to grips with what was happening. Next, Dean slipped a hand on the small of your back and came to brush his teeth next to you. Sam took the only remaining spot at the other sink and did the same. In the midst of you and Sam brushing your teeth, Dean gargled his spit obnoxiously.

Noticing that you and Sam had no reaction, he deflated and spit. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you and Sam responded in unison.

“Just had a weird dream, that’s all,” you said.

Sam shot you a curious look. “Me, too.”

Dean looked between the two of you, expression somewhere between confusion and upset. “Clowns or midgets?” Dean asked.

You rolled your eyes. Next, you got dressed in the bathroom. When you headed back into the bedroom, Dean was rummaging through his duffel bag. He pulled out your black, lacy bra. “This yours?” he asked Sam.

“Dean!” you shrieked, grabbing it out of his hands and shoving it back in his bag.

He laughed before rummaging around some more and pulling out his Taurus. “Bingo.” He got up and headed toward the door. “Now, who’s ready for some breakfast?”

You rolled your eyes and headed out to the car behind him.

“(Y/N), (Y/N), wait,” Sam called after you.

You stopped just before the door.

“You—”

You nodded. “It’s like de ja vu, man, it’s weird.”

“What the hell is happening?” Sam asked.

***

The cashier was talking to an old man as you entered the diner. It was quite small, and the wood paneling on the walls was likely making the room feel smaller; just like yesterday.

You found a booth and sat down, and Dean sat next to you. Sam sat across the table, somewhat between you and Dean on the opposite bench.

Dean noticed a poster on the wall. “Hey, Tuesday. Pig in a poke.”

“It’s Tuesday?!” you and Sam asked in surprise.

Dean looked between you and Sam. “Yeah…?”

The waitress, whose name tag read “Doris,” came up to your table. “You folks ready?”

Dean grinned. “Yes. I'll have the special, side of bacon, and a coffee.”

“Nothing for me, thanks,” said Sam.

“Let me know if you change your mind. How ‘bout you, darlin’?” Doris asked you.

“I’ll take a coffee and a short stack. Thanks,” you smiled uncomfortably.

“You got it,” Doris nodded.

“I'm telling you, Sam, this job is small fry. We should be spending our time hunting down Bela,” Dean said quietly.

You stared after Doris, and Dean snapped his fingers in front of your face. “You guys with me?”

You shook your head. “You really don’t… remember any of this?”

“Remember what?” he asked.

“This,” Sam began. “Today. Like it's— like it's happened before?”

“You mean like déjà vu?” Dean asked.

“No, I mean like, like it's really happened before,” Sam replied.

“Yeah. Like déjà vu.”

“No, Dee,” you said. “What he’s saying is, it feels like we’re living yesterday all over again.”

“Okay, how is that not dé—”

Sam angrily cut his brother off. “Don't, don't say it! Just don't even—”

Doris came back to the table with a tray with two coffees and a hot sauce. “Two coffees, black, and some hot sauce for the—oops! Crap!” Sam caught the hot sauce bottle as it fell, and he seemed a little stunned by his own action.

Doris gasped. “Thanks.” She put down the bottle and left.

Dean looked confused. “Nice reflexes.”

You and Sam were frustrated, and you just stared down at the steaming coffee in front of you.

***

After finishing breakfast, you walked down the street hand in hand with Dean.

A golden retriever barking pulled you out of your thoughts.

You turned to look at it as you passed.

“Guys, I’m sorry, but I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about,” Dean sighed.

“Okay, look,” Sam huffed. “Yesterday was Tuesday, right? But today is Tuesday too.”

“Yeah. No. Good. You're totally balanced,” Dean deadpanned.

“Why don’t you believe us, Dean?” you asked, frustrated with the whole situation.

Dean laughed as he collided with the blonde girl holding papers and bustling past yet again.

“Excuse me,” she said.

“Look, I'm just saying that it's crazy, you know, I mean, even for us crazy. ‘Dingo ate my baby’ crazy. Hey, maybe it was another of your psychic premonitions.” Dean was clearly reaching.

“How does that explain me, then?” you challenged.

“I— I don’t know,” Dean sighed. “You’re—”

“Careful,” you warned.

Dean closed his mouth at your firm stare.

“Listen, we were at the Mystery Spot, and then—” Sam cut himself off.

“And then what?” Dean prompted.

Sam paused, appearing as if he didn’t want to say. “Then, I woke up.”

You watched two movers try to get a desk through the door of an apartment complex.

“Told you it wouldn't fit,” one of them said.

“What do you want, a Pulitzer?” the other replied.

Sam snapped his fingers at you. “Wait a minute! The Mystery Spot. You think maybe it— “ The younger brother cut himself off again.

“Maybe what?” Dean asked.

“We gotta check that place out. Look, just – go with me on this, okay?” Sam said.

“I agree,” you added.

“Alright, alright, we'll go tonight after they close, get ourselves a nice long look,” Dean conceded.

Sam stopped in his tracks, as did you.

“No, no,” you rushed out.

“Wait, what?” Sam exclaimed simultaneously. “No!”

“Whoa,” Dean dropped your hand and looked between you and Sam. “Why not?”

“Uh,” Sam thought aloud, “Let's just go now. Right now. Business hours, nice and crowded.”

“My god, you're a freak.” Dean rolled his eyes.

“Dean,” you warned again.

“Okay! Whatever. We'll go now,” he sighed. Dean walked a few feet ahead of you and his brother and looked to his right. Suddenly, a car slammed into him from his left.

“Dean!” you and Sam cried.

You ran to the spot where Dean laid face down in the street. You rolled his head over into your lap, and his face was covered in bloodied scrapes. “No, no, no, not again.”

Again, you rested your forehead against Dean’s, hugging his body close to yours, and closed your eyes.

“Heat of the moment,” Asia sang.

Your eyes snapped open again.

“Rise and shine, Sammy!” Dean laughed. He sat on the end of your bed, tying his shoes.

Your heart dropped.

***

Dean noticed a poster on the wall of the diner. “Hey, Tuesday. Pig in a poke.”

“Okay, would you listen to me, Dean? 'Cause I am flipping out,” Sam said.

You were flipping out as well, so much so that it felt like your brain was short circuiting to where you couldn’t speak.

The waitress, whose name tag read “Doris,” came up to your table. “You folks ready?”

“He'll take the special, side of bacon, coffee, black. Nothing for me, thanks,” Sam said.

“How ‘bout you, darlin’?” Doris asked you.

“I’ll take a coffee and a short stack. Thanks,” you smiled uncomfortably.

“You got it,” Doris nodded.

“Sammy, I get all tingly when you take control like that,” Dean snarked.

You hit his shoulder lightly. “Shut up.”

“Quit fucking around, Dean,” Sam groaned.

“Okay. Okay. I'm listening. So- so, you think that you guys ‘re in some kind of a— what again?”

“Time loop,” you and Sam replied simultaneously.

“Like Groundhog Day,” the older brother said monotonously.

“Yes, exactly,” Sam nodded. “Like Groundhog Day.”

Dean nodded skeptically.

“So you don't believe us,” you said, feeling defeated.

Dean laughed. “It's just a little crazy, I mean even for us crazy, you know, like, uh—”

“ ‘Dingo ate my baby’ crazy?” you cut him off.

Dean turned to you sharply. “How'd you know I was going to say that?”

“Because you said it before, Dean, that's our whole point,” Sam responded.

Doris came back to the table with a tray with two coffees and a hot sauce. “Two coffees, black, and some hot sauce for the— oops! Crap!”

Sam caught the hot sauce bottle as it fell, and he didn’t even have to look at it to do so.

Doris gasped. “Thanks.” She put down the bottle and left.

Dean looked confused. “Nice reflexes.”

“No, I knew it was going to happen.”

“So did I,” you added.

Dean sighed. “Okay, look. I'm sure that there's some sort of an explanation—”

“You're just going to have to go with me on this, Dean, you just have to, you owe me that much!” Sam exclaimed.

“Sam, calm down,” you chastised.

“Don't tell me to calm down! I can't calm down. I can't. Because—” the younger brother cut himself off.

“Because what?” Dean pressed.

Sam couldn’t answer.

“Because you die today, Dee,” you said softly.

He tilted your chin up with his first two fingers. “I'm not gonna die. Not today.”

“We’ve watched you die twice now, and I—” you grabbed Dean’s wrist. “I can’t do it again. I won’t. Please, just go with us on this. Please.”

“Alright,” Dean nodded, “Okay. We’ll figure it out.”

You rested your forehead against his and nodded.

Sam sat across from you watching, and Dean cleared his throat awkwardly. He pointed at Sam. “I still think you’re nuts, but we’ll figure it out.”

***

After finishing breakfast, you walked down the street hand in hand with Dean.

A golden retriever barking pulled you out of your thoughts. You turned to look at it as you passed.

Dean collided with the blonde girl holding papers and bustling past yet again.

“Excuse me,” she said.

You watched two movers try to get a desk through the door of an apartment complex.

“Told you it wouldn't fit,” one of them said.

“What do you want, a Pulitzer?” the other replied.

Dean’s mind was still racing over the situation, and you could very clearly see the wheels in his head turning. “And you think this cheesy-ass tourist trap has something to do with it?” he asked out of the blue.

“Maybe it's the real deal, you know? The— the magnetic fields bending spacetime, or whatever,” Sam suggested.

The older brother tsked. “I don't know, it all seems a little too ‘X-Files’ for me.”

“Well, I don't know how else to explain it, Dean!” Sam snapped.

“Alright, alright, we'll go tonight after they close, get ourselves a nice long look,” Dean conceded.

“No!” you cried, stopping in your tracks. “No! We can’t.”

“Why not?” he asked.

“Because—!” You shook your head and looked away, unable to finish.

“Because what?” Dean questioned. It dawned on him suddenly. “I die there?”

“Blown away, actually,” Sam muttered.

“Huh. Okay, let's go now,” said Dean. He walked a few feet ahead of you and his brother and looked to his right. Before he could step out into the street, you and Sam grabbed him and pulled him back from nearly being hit by the car speeding past.

“Stay out of the way!” the man driving the car yelled.

Dean laughed, staring after the car, until he saw your and Sam’s faces. “Wait, did he—?”

“Yesterday. Yeah,” Sam nodded.

Dean raised his eyebrows. “And?”

“And what?” you scoffed.

“Did it look cool, like in the movies?” Dean grinned widely.

Sam rolled his eyes. “You peed yourself.” He walked off.

Dean immediately got uncomfortable. “Of course I peed myself. Man gets hit by a car, you think he has full control over his bladder? Come on!”

“You didn’t,” you told him. “And it did look like the movies.”

Dean smiled with boyish pride before holding you back while he looked both ways across the street.

***

“Folks, I can't tell you how much I appreciate this. We could use all the good ink we can get,” the owner of the Mystery Spot told you.

“How long have you owned the place, Mr. Carpiak?” Sam asked.

“Well, my family's been guarding the secrets here since you don't want to know when.” Of course, he kept up the act.

“So you'd know if anything strange happened,” the brunet continued.

The owner chuckled. “Strange? Strange happens here all the time. It's a Mystery Spot.”

“What exactly does that mean?”

“Well, uh, it's where the laws of physics have no meaning.”

Clearly, Sam was getting fed up. “Okay, like how?”

“Take the tour,” the owner grinned.

“The guy who went missing, Dexter Hasselback, he take the tour?” asked Dean.

The owner’s smile dropped. “Uh, uh, hold on a minute, what kind of article is this?”

“Just answer the question,” you demanded, patience wearing thinner than Sam’s.

“The police scoured every inch of this place. They couldn't find that man. I never seen him before. We're a family establishment—”

You stepped to him, shoving the pen in his face. “There is something weird going on here. Now, do you know anything about it, or not?”

The owner stiffened, staring at the end of the pen that he was keeping his distance from. “Okay. Look. Guys, um, give me a break. I bought the joint at a foreclosure auction last March, alright? Hell, I used to sell bail bonds.”

You continued to stare him down.

“Okay, Anne Lewis, let’s get some air,” Dean grumbled, steering you away from the man.

You weren’t angry at Dean, but you were upset with the entire situation. You shrugged Dean off as you hit the street outside.

“Well, I hate to say it, but that place is exactly what I thought: it's full of crap,” Dean remarked.

“Then what is it, Dean? What the hell is happening to us?” Sam argued.

“I don't know,” he sighed. “Alright, let me just— So, every day I die.”

You nodded.

“And that’s when you two wake up again, right?”

You nodded again.

“So let's just make sure I don't die,” Dean finished simply. “If I make it to tomorrow, then maybe the loop stops and we can figure all this out.”

“Just… that easy? I don’t know, Dean,” you shook your head.

“It's worth a shot,” your partner shrugged. “I say we grab some takeout and head back to the motel, lay low until midnight.”

You nodded, hopeful and anxious.

“Alright,” Dean beamed. “Who wants Chinese?”

He started walking again and got two steps in before a falling desk crushed him completely. It felt like the air was crushed out of you, and you looked up at the movers from the window who’d dropped the desk. You dropped your head back and closed your eyes.

“Heat of the moment,” Asia sang again.

‘I’m gonna go fucking crazy,’ you thought, staring at the ceiling.

“Rise and shine, Sammy!”

***

One-hundred Tuesdays. You’d been through one-hundred Tuesdays, and there was no end in sight. No matter what you and Sam did, talked about, or tried to change the daily routine, nothing worked. Dean had gotten food poisoning, been electrocuted, choked, been shot— he’d died every way you thought a person possibly could.

You were so frustrated, you thought you were going to end up dying next by your own hands.

You found a booth and sat down, and Dean sat next to you. Sam sat across the table, somewhat between you and Dean on the opposite bench.

Dean noticed a poster on the wall. “Hey, Tuesday. Pig in a poke.”

Sam placed a set of keys on the table; Mr Pickett’s, the man who’d hit Dean with his car on your second Tuesday.

“What are those?” Dean asked, clearly bewildered.

“The old man's. Trust me, you don't want him behind the wheel.” Sam’s voice was scarily devoid of emotion.

The waitress, whose name tag read “Doris,” came up to your table. “You folks ready?”

Dean grinned. “Yes. I'll have the special, side of bacon, and a coffee.”

‘Hi, angel,” you said curtly. “How ‘bout you log in some more hours at the archery range. You’re a pretty awful shot.”

“How'd you know that?” she asked, looking both startled and hurt.

“I’m not gonna answer that question,” you replied.

Doris walked away from your table, clearly uncomfortable.

“Okay, so you think you're caught in some kind of what, again?” Dean asked you and his brother.

“TIme loop,” you and Sam answered in unison.

“Like Groundhog Day,” Dean said, unsettled by you and Sam talking at the same time.

“Doesn't matter. There's no way to stop it,” you and Sam said again.

“What is wrong with you two?” Dean asked, looking between the two of you in concern and confusion.

“This is the hundredth Tuesday we’ve been through, Dean,” you said. “And it never fucking stops.”

“Hot sauce,” you and Sam stated together.

Doris came back to the table with a tray with two coffees and a hot sauce. “One coffee, black, and some hot sauce for the—oops! Crap!” Sam caught the hot sauce bottle as it fell, and he didn’t even have to look at it to do so. His face was stony as he slid it across the table.

Doris gasped. “Thanks.” She put down the bottle and left.

Dean looked confused. “Nice reflexes.”

“We knew it was gonna happen, Dean,” you and the brunet continued together.

“We know everything that’s gonna happen,” Sam said on his own.

Dean scoffed. “You don't know everything.”

“Yeah. We do,” you argued.

“Yeah, right,” the three of you droned together, you and Sam copying Dean’s dry tone. “Nice guess.”

“It wasn’t a guess,” you and Sam said.

“Right, you’re mind readers,” the three of you remarked. “Cut it out, Sam.” Dean looked to you. “(Y/N)!” you and Sam whispered sharply with Dean. “Stay out of this, (Y/N).”

Dean was growing frustrated, and the three of you leaned together to continue your memorized conversation. “You think you're being funny but you're being really, really childish!” You paused in time with Dean. “Sam Winchester wears makeup. Sam Winchester cries his way through sex. Sam Winchester keeps a ruler by the bed and every morning when he wakes up he—”

Dean threw up his hands. “Okay, enough!”

“That's not all,” you said.

“Randy the cashier?” Sam continued for you. “He's skimming from the register. Judge Myers? At night, he puts on a furry bunny outfit.”

“Over there, that's Cal. He's gonna rob Tony the mechanic on the way home,” you nodded at the man.

“What’s your point?” asked Dean.

“We’ve lived through every possible Tuesday,” you explained. “Sam’s ripped the fucking Mystery Spot apart, I burnt it down, and we’ve both tried everything we know to save your life.”

“But we can’t,” added Sam. “No matter what we do, you die. And then, I wake up. And then, it's Tuesday again.”

***

After finishing breakfast, you walked down the street hand in hand with Dean.

“Dog,” Sam pointed out.

A golden retriever barking pulled you out of your thoughts.

“There's gotta be some way out of this,” Dean exasperated.

“ ‘Where’s my damn keys?’ “ you and Sam mocked Mr. Pickett.

You passed him searching his pockets for the keys Sam stole. “Where’s my damn keys?”

Dean collided with the blonde girl holding papers and bustling past yet again.

“Excuse me,” she said.

Dean stopped walking. “Hey. All the times we've walked down this street, I ever do this?” He turned to go back to the blonde girl. “Excuse me, miss!”

You sighed. “No.”

The blonde gave Dean one of her papers which you knew was a missing poster for her father, Dexter Hasselback. You’d spoken to her before around Tuesday sixty-seven.

The dog growled and barked at Dean, and this was exactly what you were worried about. You tried to hold the dog back, but it still brutally attacked Dean. You closed your eyes again, not even wanting to see Dean lying dead on the concrete.

“Heat of the moment.”

***

The cashier was talking to an old man as you entered the diner. It was quite small, and the wood paneling on the walls was likely making the room feel smaller; just like yesterday. And the day before that. Everything was as it should be, but something was really bothering you you couldn’t quite put your finger on.

Sam typed away at his laptop researching Dexter Hasselback having finally thought to do so when he got the chance over the last twenty or so Tuesdays.

You barely listened to the conversation between the two boys as you finished breakfast. When you got up from the booth, it dawned on you what was wrong. The man at the table next to you had used strawberry syrup.

“What’s wrong?” Dean asked you.

You saw the man who usually sat at that table passing by the diner windows. “He always has maple syrup.”

Sam caught on to what you were suggesting. “(Y/N), you’re a genius.”

“Someone wanna bring me into the loop, here?” Dean’s voice broke in.

“Nothing ever changes here, Dean,” you said. “Just us.”

“Heat of the moment.”

***

You confronted the trickster, who, surprisingly, was the one you thought you’d killed back at that college. Somehow, though, he survived.

“Why are you doing this?” Sam demanded, still having the trickster pinned to the wall with the steak.

“You're joking, right?” the trickster snorted. “You chuckleheads tried to kill me last time. Why wouldn't I do this?”

“And Hasselback, what about him?” Dean questioned.

“That putz? He said he didn't believe in wormholes, so I dropped him in one.” The creature laughed at his own joke. “Then you guys showed up. I made you the second you hit town.”

“So, this is fun for you? Killing Dean over and over?” you asked angrily.

“One, yes. It is fun. And two?” He turned his attention away from just you to you and Sam. “This is so not about killing Dean. This joke is on you, Sam. Watching your brother die, every day? Forever?”

“You son of a bitch,” Sam growled.

“And my lovely (Y/N).” The trickster zeroed in on you again. “Joke’s on you, too. But you… you’re a lot more fun to push to your limits than Sam is.”

“And why is that?” you snarled.

“Because you’ll actually give me something interesting to watch. I can’t wait to see what kinda magic you make when Dean goes to Hell,” the trickster laughed.

Despite how his words rattled you, you kept your face steely.

“How long will it take you two to realize?” the creature continued to taunt. “You can’t save him. No matter what.”

“Oh yeah? I kill you, this all ends now,” Sam pushed back.

The trickster’s smirk dropped. “Oh-oh, hey, whoa! Okay. Look. I was just playing around. You can't take a joke, fine. You're out of it. Tomorrow, you'll wake up and it'll be Wednesday. I swear.”

“You’re lying!” you sneered.

“If I am, you know where to find me. Having pancakes at the diner,” he grinned.

You looked to Sam, refusing to look at Dean and let him see the emotions swirling in your eyes.

Sam kept his gaze on the trickster. “No. Easier to just kill you.”

“Sorry, kiddo. Can’t have that,” the trickster tsked and snapped his fingers.

“Promise me, I’ll be back in time,” Huey Lewis & The News sang.

You snapped up, back in bed in your motel room.

“What, you two gonna sleep all day?” Dean asked you and Sam. He stood near the bathroom sink.

“No Asia,” you breathed out.

“Yeah, I know. This station sucks.”

“It's Wednesday!” Sam exclaimed.

“Yeah, usually comes after Tuesday. Turn that thing off, will you?” Dean asked, gesturing to the radio closest to you.

Sam grinned. “What, are you kidding me? This isn't the most beautiful song you've ever heard?”

“No,” Dean snorted. “How many Tuesdays did you guys have?”

“Had to have been, like, one-hundred thirty,” you noted. “Hey, wait. What do you remember?”

“I remember you guys were pretty whacked out of it yesterday, and then, I remember running into the Trickster. But no, that's about it.”

“Alright, pack your stuff,” Sam asserted. “Let’s get the hell out of town. Now.”

“No breakfast?” Dean pouted.

“No breakfast,” you smiled lopsidedly, kissing his cheek as you moved to the bathroom to get dressed.

Dean headed down to the car while you and Sam continued to pack. A few minutes of silence passed between you and Sam before you suddenly heard a gunshot.

Your heads snapped toward each other, and you were instantly speeding out of the door to see if Dean was okay or needed help.

You hurried down the exterior motel stairs, and you made your way around the back of the Impala. To your horror, Dean splayed out on the ground with blood rapidly soaking his shirt.

“Oh, god,” you breathed out, dropping to your knees and ignoring the gravel digging into your jeans. “No, no, no, Dean! Baby, look at me!” You pulled his head into your lap as you’d done many Tuesdays before.

Sam was trying to close his eyes to make something happen. “I’m supposed to wake up. (Y/N), we’re supposed to wake up.”

Your heart dropped. “Somebody help!” you brokenly screamed, tears pouring down your cheeks. “Help us!”

***

Six months later, you were a shell of a human. No matter how many demons you hunted down, ghosts you’d popped, or monsters you’d slaughtered, you were unsatisfied.

You hadn’t spoken to Sam in months. You hadn’t seen Bobby for even longer. It was lonely, but you only wanted Dean. Bobby left numerous voicemails, but you hadn’t heard from Sam. You figured he was doing just as well as you were.

Sam had the Impala, and you kept stealing cars. The FBI was on your tail after St. Louis and Maryland and the bank robbery, and even more so now with your trail of stolen cars. However, you had gotten very good at leading them away.

No wound you sustained was enough to shake your emotionless expression. You’d become a weapon; a mindless, killing machine. And you could only imagine what Dean was experiencing in Hell. That thought haunted you. You knew you had to get downstairs to help him some kind of way, but you hadn’t quite figured out how to ensure your one-way ticket to Hell.

Well, you’d thought of a few possibilities, but you weren’t sure you were ready to do something that drastic.

Another thing you were mulling over was what the trickster had said to you. “I can’t wait to see what kinda magic you make when Dean goes to Hell.” You wondered if this was what he was talking about. Was this what he’d imagined you’d be? Was there a worse fate to be discovered?

Sleep was not your friend lately. You’d stay up rereading your journal entries from the years you’d spent with Dean and imagine the way your drawings would look in real life. If you couldn’t handle that as it was oftentimes painful, you’d just sit beside the window in the dark staring into the moonlight and imagine that Dean was sleeping in the bed across the room from you.

A few years ago, you would have made fun of yourself for your life having fallen apart after the death of the man you loved. You were always incredibly independent, and this breakdown would have been incredibly out of character for you to act this way before Dean.

Now, you sat at the table in the motel room illuminated by the lamplight eating takeout.

Suddenly, the trickster appeared in front of you. “Holy Full Metal Jacket, (Y/N). Gotta say, sweetheart, if this is you now? I can’t wait to see the real deal.”

“What do you mean?” you asked, unsure what to do in this situation. You didn’t have a stake on hand, and you hadn’t really been paying attention to the trickster recently. You didn’t see a point in it given Dean was gone either way.

“What, you really thought Dean was doin’ the hellfire rumba?” he tsked. “I gave you more credit than I should’ve, looks like.”

“Wait, this was all a trick?” You stood from your chair angrily.

“Whoa there, Megan Turner,” he chuckled, holding his hands up in surrender. “Sam’s given me a deal. I’m here to put you two out of your misery.”

“Then why come and talk to me instead of just do it?” you asked.

“Because! It’s more fun this way. It’ll be the last time I talk to you, hopefully. A little sentimental, no?” the creature smirked.

You folded your arms. “Not really. But what do you want? Why stall?” “ ‘Cause I have a few parting words for you,” he replied. “You were a little quicker on the uptake than Sam to realize that you can’t save Dean from Hell. At least, not before he takes the plunge.” You looked at him in surprise. Did he know what you were planning to do?

“Yes, angelface, I know exactly what’s been swirlin’ around in that head of yours,” he continued without you saying a word to him. “And your little plan is bat crap crazy, but like I said before, I can’t wait to see what you do, kiddo. You’ve always been my favorite of the Three Stooges.”

It was as if your brain wasn’t quite processing what he was saying, and you just kept staring ahead with your arms folded.

“Good luck out there, champ.”

“Promise me, I’ll be back in time,” Huey Lewis & The News sang.

You snapped up, back in bed in your motel room.

“What, you two gonna sleep all day?” Dean asked you and Sam. He stood near the bathroom sink. “I know, no Asia. This station sucks.”

“It's Wednesday!” Sam exclaimed.

“Yeah, usually comes after Tuesday. Turn that thing off, will you?” Dean asked, gesturing to the radio closest to you.

Tears rushing to your eyes, you leapt out of bed and ran into Dean’s arms. He made a sound in surprise but quickly returned your hug with your same ferocity.

“Sweetheart, how many Tuesdays did you have?” he asked you.

“Enough,” you muttered into his chest.

“What, uh, what do you remember?” Sam asked, awkwardly standing near.

“I remember you guys were pretty whacked out of it yesterday, and then, I remember running into the Trickster. But no, that's about it.”

Sam nodded. “Let's go.”

“No breakfast?” Dean pouted.

“No breakfast,” you smiled lopsidedly, kissing his cheek as you moved to the bathroom to get dressed.

“Alright, I'll pack the car,” said Dean.

“Oh, hell no,” you replied from behind the closed door in the bathroom.

“It's the parking lot, sweetheart.”

“Just— just trust her,” you heard Sam tell him.

“Hey, you don't look so good. Something else happen?” Dean asked Sam.

There was silence on the other side of the door for a moment. “I just had a really weird dream,” Sam finally replied.

You could hear the smirk in Dean’s voice. “Clowns or midgets?”

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

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glossysoap · 1 year ago

Text

call of duty masterlist

note: i write any and all readers with plus size bodies in mind, but they can be read as size neutral if need be. the same goes for skin tones/hair types, i try my best to make it a blank canvas for the reader to imagine themselves in. if you notice something i could’ve done better or made more inclusive, especially in my earlier works, please don’t hesitate to let me know in my askbox with a quote of what you’re referring to.

literally everything here (besides the series) is smut.

rec lists:

price + poly 141

soulmate au + vampire au

series:

ready to comply:

summary: on january 09, 2020, the 141’s medic is captured by hydra, and believed to be dead. until the task force is ambushed a year later, by a brainwashed super soldier who perfectly resembles the ‘dead’ medic.

tags: mcu/cod crossover, winter soldier reader, poly ghost/reader/soap, gn! reader.

saudade:

only the preview at the moment, full fic coming soon

summary: saudade : (n.) a nostalgic longing to be near again to something or someone that is distant, or that has been loved and then lost; “the love that remains”.

tags: featuring; future poly ghoap x reader!!!!, american! reader referred to as “you”, childhood best friends to lovers, penpal au!, lanyard references at the bottom

one shots/multi parters:

captain john price:

obedience, i:

price has been fantasizing about you ever since you arrived on base — and it’s time to act on those fantasies.

obedience, ii:

the captain’s cerulean gaze weren’t the only eyes burning a hole into you. while the captain was fantasizing about bending you over his desk and thrusting his cock inside your wet cunt, the lieutenant’s honeyed eyes were staring at you and fantasizing about the exact same thing.

thigh riding:

exactly what it says on the tin.

talking you through it:

what it says on the tin.

ring:

price fingering you with his wedding ring. bday gift for @/loveyhoneydovey

fucked stupid:

blurb of price fucking you stupid.

beard burn:

riding prices face.

thigh fixation:

what it says on the tin.

touchy:

john price can’t keep his hands off you.

teamwork:

price holding you still while gaz eats you out. (an optional part of bun-verse)

claiming ink:

forced claiming via forced tattoos. inspired by that bite mark tattoo trend.

daddy kink

lieutenant simon ghost riley:

just wanna be yours:

for the longest time, simon was content with your friends with benefits arrangement. at least, that’s what he told himself. until one day, he wasn’t.

obedience, ii - follow up to obedience part i.

late night work:

you’re clingy and desperate for him to come to bed. he’s stuck at his computer, working late at night. the only reasonable solution? cockwarming.

fresh ink:

thigh riding.

staring:

weirdo/perv ghost with a staring problem

claiming ink:

forced claiming via forced tattoos. inspired by that bite mark tattoo trend.

johnny soap mactavish:

keep crying, pup:

forced oral (f receiving) + dubcon

marking his territory:

dubcon n piss kink

bitch:

mean johnny calling you his bitch - but he means it literally.

wearing skirts around mean johnny

poor lass:

what it says on the tin.

puppy:

soap loves being your puppy, but he hates the thought of you sharing his nudes with the men.. or does he?

crescents in his skin part 1:

you and soap were inseparable, usually. at least until a few months ago when he got injured on a mission. ever since then, he hasn’t been able to even be in your vicinity. maybe it has something to do with his newfound strength. or the way you could swear his eyes shone amber when he was angry.

pent up:

his specialty is teasing. though it usually leads to him getting put in his place.

thigh riding with captain mactavish

what it says on the tin.

dirty talk with captain mactavish

what it says on the tin.

thigh fixation:

what it says on the tin.

mic work:

soap as an audio erotica artist. part 2 coming soon.

pushing boundaries:

perv! best friend johnny pushing your boundaries

sub soap hc:

what it says on the tin.

werewolf soap hc:

what it says on the tin.

claiming ink:

forced claiming via forced tattoos. inspired by that bite mark tattoo trend.

sergeant kyle gaz garrick:

bun:

gaz comes across his little bun online.. and he has to find her.

teamwork:

price holding you still while gaz eats you out. (an optional part of bun-verse)

déjà vu:

ready to comply - verse drabble au. gaz is captured by hydra almost a year into your disappearance, and the first thing he sees when he’s in captivity is.. you. alive.

bloody shame:

bloody shame is all gaz can think when he overhears his best friend confess that no one has been able to make her finish. so he takes that into his own hands. what else could he do? he’s just being a good friend.

good boy:

submissive gaz x dom male reader, edging and orgasm denial

oral with gaz:

what’s on the tin

claiming ink:

forced claiming via forced tattoos. inspired by that bite mark tattoo trend.

fluff headcanons i:

what it says on the tin.

poly 141:

showering with the 141:

dubcon/noncon.

maybe someday:

poly 141 + price centered. price thinks, knows, they can’t fuck you like he can.

thanks for the tip:

drabble for future fic, camgirl reader au

sharing is caring:

intro post for @/vgilantee and i’s “price sharing his wife” au. (not that we created the trope, it’s just our specific fic 🫶🏻)

keegan p. russ (no longer writing)

unknown number

könig (no longer writing)

black and blue:

you mark him up with love bites, all black and blue.

shiny new toy:

he gets a little too comfortable socializing with a flirty recruit. so you put him in his place.

concepts and thoughts:

ghoap:

double pen

prompt ask for induratize (soulmate au)

bodyguard stalker au

better off ; future ghoap x reader x frank castle crossover concept

johnny mactavish:

wearing skirts around mean soap

standing full nelson thought with captain mactavish

how many fingers?

capt mactavish calling you “his sergeant”

thigh riding w captain mactavish

three times

help, i’m stuck!

chasing

soap begging to touch you

responding to manticore-fangs ask re: roommate soap w/ porn prompts

puppy

masseuse soap

simon riley:

riding ghost while wearing his mask

vet reader who treats riley

kyle garrick:

bun:

gaz comes across his little bun online.. and he has to find her.

oral:

what’s on the tin

teamwork:

price holding you still while gaz eats you out. (an optional part of bun-verse)

fluff headcanons i:

what it says on the tin.

john price:

summary for limerence (ex husband price au)

slipping a ring on during sex

calling you “his soldier”

“attagirl”

piggybacking off of vgilantee’s post here

predator/prey + soulmate au

afterglow cuddling

stuffed full

help, i’m stuck!

teamwork

task force 141:

inexperienced

stealing your romance books

monster/demon 141 thoughts

©️ glossysoap 2024. please do not steal, copy, plagiarize, translate, or repost any of my works without my permission. do not steal any elements of my theme without permission.

#glossywrites; ready to comply⛓#mw2 x reader #cod x reader #ghost x reader #soap x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader x soap #simon riley x reader #john price x reader #john price x you #kyle gaz garrick x reader #gaz x reader #könig x reader #könig x y/n

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pilfappreciator · 11 months ago

Note

Brandi and Bruce’s S/o looking after the bakers dozen on their own, what shenanigans occur?

Anon this is?? Literally so cute what the hell??? Also referring to them as the "bakers dozen" is so genuis sfhjjfdadfggh—

Reader & the Bakers Dozen: babysitting solo

Includes: GN! Reader, mentions of polyamory, mentions of Vacay Lovers, slightly Parental! Reader, the Bakers Dozen

CW: Bruce Jr.

🍪 POV: your partners go off to some fancy convention to promote their business, leaving you to watch after all 13 of their kids. Chaos ensues

🍪 These little shits are already a lot to handle, so when you suddenly find yourself being the only adult in the house responsible for them? Yeah, babes, you've definitely got your hands full

🍪 Luckily, you've spent enught time at the Vacay Lovers household that things are at least a little easier for you lol

🍪 They definitely behave much better for you compared to other babysitters. Partly because you're smoochin their parents (and don't wanna get in trouble), and partly because they genuinely like you :3

🍪 But they're still little shits thru and thru, don't forget that

🍪 If they happen to have school? Chances are Bruce and Brandi already took care of their lunches and stuff before they left, so it'll be up to you to pick them up (WARNING: THE KIDS WILL TRY TO CONVINCE YOU TO GO ORDER AT THE NEAREST FAST FOOD PLACE! Unless you've got money for 13 happy meals, prepare to hit em with a firm refusal). Definitely helps if you blast some music in the van! They've kinda lost interest in Velvet & Veneer after learning the two literally tortured their dad and uncles...

🍪 Play Brozone. They'll go crazy and shout-sing along with Bruce's parts lol

🍪 Later in the day you can expect a few to come up to you for homework help. They might also wanna help with dinner, but fyi there WILL be a mess. Pasta sauce on the floor, flour all over the counters, stains on your clothes— the whole shebang

🍪 Want the least amount of casualties? Just let them set the table (no worries, all the plates and stuff are made of plastic ajdjakkala)

🍪 A few of them have some dietary restrictions tho so keep that in mind!! Luckily, you can always find a list of reminders/examples up on the fridge courtesy of lovely muppet wife Brandi <33

🍪 If the kids don't have school that day, then be prepared. You're gonna have very little time to yourself ://

🍪 Like they've each got their own interests and hobbies to keep them occupied, but sometimes they'll need you to reach somewhere up high, or for you to play tiebreaker/settle an argument, or they honestly just want you to join them for a game of hide and seek which???

🍪 "Aw, you sure you guys don't mind me joining in?"

"Yeah! Just cuz you're old doesn't mean you can't have fun, too!"

"...Gee, thanks :D"

🍪 They're merciless

🍪 They've all got their own set of chores they need to do. Each and everyone will try to worm their way out of them. All of them. Everytime

🍪 Sure, they can be a little hyper sometimes, but they're like 6-8 years old so that's expected. For the most part, they're all pretty chill

🍪 It's Bruce Jr. who you've gotta watch out for

🍪 He is a shit- stirer and I WILL FOREVER STAND BY THAT

🍪 This guy won't hesitate to rally his siblings into whatever plan he's been cookin in that feral little head of his. Prepare yourself because you're MOST DEFINITELY getting pranked. It's like a requirement or something

🍪 One nice thing i have to say about Bruce Jr. is that he's actually pretty resourceful. Like this little dude is using everyday household items like he's staring in his own Home Alone movie AKSJSJAKA—

🍪 Rest assured, tho, none of his pranks are seriously harmful or anything but like... at the end of the day, expect:

1) to be covered in craft supplies

2) your clothes/skin/hair a mess

3) to have one limb stuck in a bucket

4) all of the above

🍪 Honestly I feel like Bruce and Brandi would be surprised if they came back and DIDN'T find you sporting paint-stained clothes or with glitter in your hair. Maybe a few stickers slapped on your forehead??

🍪 The trick to dealing with this little agent of chaos is to either keep him separated from his siblings long enough so he doesn't manage to rope anyone into his schemes, or strike some kinda deal with him. Considering he's got 12 siblings, all of whom you need to be watching over at the same time, chances are the second option is your safest bet

🍪 Chances are he'll ask for something semi-illegal, or at the very least something that DEFINITELY requires adult supervision

🍪 DO NOT LET THIS BOY TALK YOU INTO BUYING ANYTHING RELATED TO FIRE. Seems like an easy task, I know. Unfortunately this little shit enherited his dad's charm so watch out o_o

🍪 He'll settle for a happy meal tho. Hopefully you didn't already cave and take him and his siblings out to eat earlier, otherwise you're spending even more money ajsjakkala

🍪 If any errands need to be run during your time there, you BETTER BELIEVE they're all coming with. You'll need to be incredibly vigilant during this time cuz these kids are even more rowdy in public than they are at home. If you're smart about it, you can turn the whole thing into a game! If everyone manages to grab everything off the grocery list in a certain amount of time or if they're able to find the best quality (but relatively cheap) brand of laundry detergent, then you'll buy each of them candy or something uwu

🍪 You can count on them to be cooperative, but like... bring the family child leash just in case

🍪 Cough cough (Bruce Jr.) cough cough

🍪 MOVIES BEFORE BED! It's a bit of a family tradition in the Vacay Lovers household. Yknow, just some way for the kids to spend time together before the day ends

🍪 You're most definitely gonna be playing tiebreaker when the time comes. All 13 of them have wildly different tastes

🍪 Absolutely no scary movies tho. They'll try to argue that theyre able to handle it, but at the end of the night expect to find yourself under a pile of frightened children who've ctawled into bed with you

🍪 Their collective nightly routine is literally?? So chaotic??? Like all of them are simultaneously trying to squeeze into the same bathroom just to brush their teeth... running in and out of their respective rooms... trying to sneak some extra dessert before bed

🍪 Literally never a quite moment in this household jshskakakam

🍪 You might have to read a few bedtime stories or sing a lullaby—

"Dad does it better"

"Just go to bed, Benji"

—but once they've settled in under the covers? Out like a light. They are unconscious the moment their heads hit their pillows

🍪 You'll probably have a mess (or two... or three) to clean up afterwards, but once they're taken care of? Dishes washed? Counters clean? You're more than welcome to crash on Bruce and Brandi's bed <33

🍪 Said couple returns home the next morning...

🍪 Just to find their kids drawing on your face with marker. Cross your fingers that none of its permanent 💀💀

Hope this was good! I know I call them all little shits BUT I MEAN IT AFFECTIONATELY OKAY AJSJAKA

Ngl I feel like this could have been like... more colorful? Like I was very general about the kids and their behavior as a whole, but now I'm super tempted to make a post describing each of them and all their little quirks! Just something fun to do that'll help me write them better in the future ;3

#anon i hope you know im using Bakers Dozen as an official term from now on #big brain move #love that for you <33 #i shall continue to slander bruce jr. till the grave #trolls #trolls band together #bruce trolls #brandi trolls #Vacay Lovers #Bakers Dozen #trolls x reader #brozone x reader #spruce trolls #x reader #headcanon #ask

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steadysuitenthusiast · 8 months ago

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This is my first ever fanfic that I’m posting! Please like, reblog, and leave comments telling me what you think! Currently only writing for SKZ. If you have any ideas, I’d be happy to write something if you send me an ask!

Tiny Traitor (shout out to @skzms for the title idea and for encouraging me to write this!! You’re the best <3)

Pairing: lee know x reader

Summary: Minho comes home to find you in bed with a replacement for him. But how can he be angry when he looks so much like him and you look so peaceful.

Warnings: none, just fluff!

Word count: 813

2:19am

Minho had told you he’d be late getting home tonight, but you hadn’t expected him to be this late. A glance at the clock on your bedside table had you heaving a sigh of defeat. You had spent the past 2 hours scrolling on your phone, trying to stay awake. Your eyes were hurting from staring at the screen for so long and you had to be up at 8 for work. Resigned to the fact that you wouldn’t be seeing Minho tonight, you sent him a text saying you loved him, locked your phone, grabbed your Leebit plushie that you kept hidden for nights you’re alone and missing Minho, and rolled over to fall asleep.

3:22am

Minho opened the front door to your shared apartment as quietly as he could, as he figured you were probably asleep by now. Taking off his shoes and hanging his jacket by the door, he silently padded his way to your shared bedroom to check on you before he washed up for the night. What he saw as he stepped into the room stopped him in his tracks and had his breath hitching in his throat. You were laying in the middle of the bed, your hair fanned out on the pillows framing your sleeping face and making you look angelic. You were wearing one of Minho’s shirts that you had confiscated from him months ago claiming you slept better wrapped in something that belonged to him, especially when he wasn’t with you. But the thing that made Minho tear up, was the little Leebit plushie cuddled in your arms the way that he should be, the way he craved to be. He hated being away from you, especially when he was so close. The late nights at the dance studio were taking away his time with you and it made his heart ache.

You stirred awake at the feeling of someone’s eyes on your sleeping form. “Min? You just getting home?” You murmured, your voice raspy with sleep.

“Hi my love. Yes, I’m sorry I woke you. Just wanted to check on you before I showered. Go back to sleep and I’ll be back soon, yeah?” Minho responded, softly stroking your hair and placing a kiss at your hairline.

“Mmkay” you mumbled before rolling over and trying to doze off again, but the knowledge that Minho was in the other room made you stay awake so you could see him, at least for a little while.

About 10 minutes later, the door to the bathroom opened and Minho stepped out with his hair still dripping with water from the shower. He looked at the bed and noticed you watching him. “I thought I told you to go back to sleep?” he questioned you softly.

“Couldn’t sleep. Wanted to see you” you state simply.

“Well in that case…” he pauses and narrows his eyes playfully at you. “You wanna tell me what you’re doing in bed with that tiny traitor?”

Your eyebrows knit together in confusion as you looked at him questioningly, unsure of what he was referring to. His eyes darted to the Leebit plushie still cradled in your arms then back to your own. You glanced down, almost forgetting you were holding it, and burst into laughter at the pout that had formed on your boyfriend’s face.

“Tiny traitor?? How could you call him that??” You said through your fit of laughter.

“Well he’s in my spot! He’s snuggling MY girl in MY bed!” Minho exclaimed looking a little defeated. You sobered at this and your eyes softened as you looked at your handsome, exhausted boyfriend.

“He keeps me company when you’re not here and I’m missing you. I usually only need him when you’re on tour and I can’t come with you, but I missed you a lot tonight. So I needed the extra snuggles.”

Minho crept towards the bed slowly, a small smile forming on his face as he came closer to you, “When did you even get him? I don’t remember ever seeing you with a SKZoo plushie” he said playfully.

“Technically I had him before I met you.” you responded shocking him slightly.

“I thought Felix was your bias before we met” he raised an eyebrow at you.

“Was??” you tease. He narrowed his eyes and started tickling your sides mercilessly. “I’m kidding! I’m kidding!” You half yelled in an effort to make the tickle torture cease. “You’re my ultimate bias, even though you called Leebit a tiny traitor” you looked at Minho lovingly after he stopped his playful assault on your sides.

“I love you so much baby” he stated, voice barely above a whisper. He kissed your forehead before mumbling, “I’ll buy you all the tiny traitors you want if it helps you stop missing me.”

#stray kids #lee know #skz #lee know fluff #lee know x reader #stray kids fluff #lee know x you #lee know x yn #lee minho #minho #skz minho #stray kids minho #minho x reader #minho fluff

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endzithefangirl · 3 months ago

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Scandals

Authors note: So, let's talk the Sinner doping thing first. I think the story is legit, it was one billionth of a gram. But, I do think that if Jannik wasn't no. 1 and from Italy he would have been suspended until the investigation ended. Still found innocent, but he'd be benched for a few months at least. As for Carlos smashing rackets... Honestly it was hot. At least to me... I was shocked because he never does stuff like that but I think the Olympic final was still in his mind and he just lost it. Anyway, enjoy these crappy shot fics!

Summary: Two short stories in which our two talented young tennis players, who have recently been in 'scandals', need a little reassurance

Warnings: English isn't my first language, no use of Y/N, gender not specified, everything stated in the Autors note is my opinion and I do not ask everyone to agree!

Word count: 711

Carlos Alcaraz x Reader

"Hey," you say as you enter Carlos' hotel room. "You okay?"

"Mmmmh, come here," he replies, looking you up and down. You walk over and hug him, smoothing out his messy hair. He wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you in close, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck and taking a deep breath. You hold him tight. "What was that about, hm?" you ask cautiously, referring to his anger at the court. He leans his forehead against yours, sighing.

"I just lose myself sometimes. I get too in my own head, too competitive, too hard on myself." He presses closer against you.

"You broke a racket; we were all so shocked..."

Carlos huffs, slightly embarrassed. "I know, I lost my temper... again. I should have done better, but I just couldn't keep it together."

"It's okay," you say, trying to calm him down. "It's okay, baby. Everyone has off days. You weren't feeling great, and Monfils just decided to play his best."

He exhales loudly. "I know, I know, but it's just so irritating. I wanted to win so badly, needed to win so badly... but I just kept screwing up and making stupid errors and—" He stops talking and rests his forehead against your shoulder.

"It's okay. Now you need to relax, get back into the headspace for the US Open. Okay?"

He wraps his arms around your neck, his body pressed tight against yours. "Will you help me? Help me relax?"

"What do you want me to do, baby?" you ask, looking gently into his eyes. Carlos' grip around you tightens, and a vulnerable look enters his eyes. He lets out a deep sigh as he lays his head on your chest. Your touch is soothing as his arms wrap around you, his eyes closing, melting into your embrace.

"You better, baby?"

He nods, nuzzling his face against you. "...Much better…" He pulls you tighter against him, almost like he doesn’t want to let go. Carlos stays there, listening to your heartbeat, feeling the steady rise and fall of your chest. He presses gentle kisses against your collarbone and shoulder, feeling a little clingy.

"Mmm, you wanna stay like this for a bit?"

He nods, slightly embarrassed by the clinginess but too tired to care. "...Just a little longer..."

Jannik Sinner x Reader

"Damn, they really booed you," you say as Jannik comes back from his first-round match. Jannik sighs in annoyance. He walks to his locker and grabs a towel. With a hint of irritation, he responds, "That’s nothing new."

He takes off his sweat-soaked shirt. "Yeah, but... they were really booing. It's because of the doping scandal—" He pulls out a clean shirt and starts getting dressed. "I don’t know why they still think I’m cheating..."

"...Well, you did get off better than most people would have..."

Jannik closes his locker a bit too hard. He runs a hand through his curly red hair and looks at you. "And what is that supposed to mean?"

"Well, if you weren't world number one, and you didn't have the fancy lawyers, and if it wasn't one billionth of a gram—"

He cuts you off, getting closer to you. The annoyance is evident in his voice. He looks you in the eyes, his tone low and serious. "You think I’m protected because I’m world number one and have money for fancy lawyers?"

"Do you think that if it was me, they would have let me play before I defended my case?"

He's silent for a moment, thinking about what you just said. His face slowly relaxes, and he looks away. "No, probably not…" he says, his voice calmer now.

"Look, I know you're innocent," you say, standing up and wrapping your arms around his bare shoulders. "But you need to know that you got the absolute best-case scenario that most people wouldn't get."

Jannik's face is now completely relaxed too. A few beads of sweat run down his bare chest. He puts his sweaty arms around your waist and looks into your eyes again. He doesn't argue with you anymore because he knows you are right. "I didn’t really see it like that before…"

"You're not a bad person, Jannik. You're just so fucking lucky it's annoying."

#carlos alcaraz #carlos alcaraz x reader #carlos alcaraz imagine #jannik sinner #jannik sinner x reader #jannik sinner imagine #tennis #tennis x reader

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narcolini · 5 months ago

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white room - pt. 1

johnny davis (the bikeriders) x reader, 18+, canon typical themes and language, 2.8k words, 1 of ? johnny as a miserable bisexual divorcee and reader as someone too chilled and lonely to give a fuck a/n: it's written to be gender neutral, but there are a few references implying they may be afab (not overkill its just a very gendered landscape)

“Go fuck your good self, then.”

The door slams behind you and the window pane shakes with it, piece of shit car that it is, with an equally large turd of a guy running the thing.

“Crazy bitch,” is the cab driver’s goodbye call, and yeah, maybe. But he’s the one dumping you in the wrong end of town—and after dark, no less. All you’d done was get a cab after a party, knowing you left all your cash in one of the boots under your bed, with the mad hope that the guy behind the wheel might just be kind enough to let you ride along on a promise. You had every intention of running upstairs to get him his fee, while he kept the engine running, mind you, but that uptight jack didn’t wanna hear a thing about it. Even had the nerve to ask you to comp him 'with those pretty lips o’ yours’, which is round about where you started calling him a filthy no-good perv, and he started pulling over in the middle of nowhere.

Now you’re standing in the dark in nothin but your too-cheap denim jacket, that you never should’ve bought ‘cause you got shirts thicker than this, staring at a corner side bar that’s almost definitely filled with a hundred more of those cab driver types. Not in the driving sense, but in the fuck anyone that isn’t a man like us sense, you know?

But what can you do? It’s in there, or out here, and you’re not in the shoes for walking, never mind running, so it’s not much of a choice at all.

You go up in a way like you been here before, like you know the name of the place even though the paint’s chipped off and the light ain’t lighting anymore, and in the time it takes to cross the street, you see three guys go in, three come out, and not a single woman or anyone else, so much as look at the place. It’d be a lie to say your heartbeat was going a speed anywhere near close to normal. Which is another thing you try and hide as you push through the door into the chaos of it all.

It’s not a bar, it’s a God damn wolf den.

You make it two steps and already you seen enough beer, and enough skin, and heard enough dogwhistles to consider just how bad it could really be to run barefoot across town. Your feet would only hurt a little bit, right? They seen you now though, and with the amount of bikes they got lined up outside, you wouldn’t even make it to the next block before one of them caught up to you. And then what? Might as well try talking wolf while you’re in here, better that than squaring up with one of them in some stinking alleyway.

“You got a phone, big guy?” you ask, to the first one that really looks at you. He’s a head taller than you but it seems like that head’s spinning, so you figure he needs a little more explanation to get going. “Behind the bar or something? A payphone?”

He takes a while to reply, like you’re speaking some other language, then he says, “I got something you can ride, honey.”

And now you’re back in the cab all over again, and you’re still going fuckin' nowhere.

“Forget about it.”

You shove past him, and another two men smelling of liquor, until you can plant both hands on the edge of the bar and speak to the owner directly. At least, you think it’s the owner. Cause he’s stood back there, with a towel slung over his shoulder, and he’s the only one giving all of these animals their liquid feed for the night.

“Hey," you start, “do you got a phone? One I could use?”

Instead of answering, he looks right over your head. Imagine that, like you ain’t there at all, right over and into the space behind. It takes a second, but then you realise it’s not just bad manners, it’s only that there’s someone else coming up to the back of you who’s much more important, to him anyway.

And now, that’s a guy you look twice at.

He’s not tall, but he’s not short neither, something in the middle that suits you just right, if it mattered. Face like he’s seen some things too, but his hair’s combed all neat like he hasn’t seen nothin. If it weren’t for the bent pinky on his one hand and the scar on his knuckles across the other, you might think he was some sort of regular guy. But he got a walk like he owns the place, more than the barman, that's for sure, and the shirt he’s wearing is plastered with the same exact name as the rest of all these guys: VANDALS. Doesn’t take much to figure that he’s top dog of them. Vandal of the Vandals.

He slides right up to you like you asked him to, sitting his forearms on the edge—next to where your hands are.

“Nah,” he says. Just like that. Nah.

You feel like laughing. “No?”

“Nah,” his head shakes, “you don’t wanna be in here.”

If it’s advice, it kinda feels like a threat and, well, if it’s a threat, it sorta feels like advice. A decent bit of it at that, cause he is right. You don’t wanna be in here.

“Don’t want doesn’t make up for need,” you tell him. “And I need to use a phone, if you got one.”

“What for?”

“A cab?” Then you do laugh. “What? You worried I’ll ring your bill up by calling international?”

He makes a strange, sorta dismissive noise as he’s pushing off from the bar. “Worried you’d call some little boyfriend of yours,” he mumbles, then he walks round to the serving side and pulls a phone from under the lip of it.

“No boyfriend, sir. Just a mighty need to get home.” And the fuck outta this place.

He picks the handset up, spinning the dial without asking you for nothin, his eyes sitting on something you can’t see right in front of him. A number maybe. “Not many drivers will pick you up from here,” he says. "This one…yeah, well, you can try it.”

Any hope you had is fast disappearing on you. “That bad, huh?”

He passes you the phone, the twisty cord going all the way straight just to reach you.

It connects as you put it up to your ear, and some lady with a voice all too quiet for telephones greets you on the other side, rushing you to the point before you can even try and warm her up a little.

"Hi, yeah, so I need a cab but I won’t be able to pay the guy until we get there, is that something your—hello? Hello?” You tut. The empty tone in your ear is a stinging slap to the face, right there, right across the cheekbone. “Motherfucker,” you say, but she’s already all the way gone. She didn’t even hear you out.

And this guy? Well he’s smiling when you look back at him, doing an awful bad job at pretending like he ain’t been listening. “Yeah," he clears his throat to hide a laugh he won’t laugh, “you should’a said you had no money. No cab’s gonna—”

“I know,” you snap. “Still had to ask though, didn’t I?”

He shrugs, nodding at sorta the same time like he agrees with you, even though his face is fixed like he don’t agree at all. Like you’re awful naive for thinking they might even listen to you in the first place.

“Guess I’m walkin’ then,” you decide. You pass him the handset, but he’s too slow to take it, so you go on your toes to lean over and put it back yourself. Hard and pissy with it. Shitty taxi service. Shitty phone. Shitty bar.

“You want a drink?”

Your heels hit the floor again. “What?"

He puts his hand out like he works here now, pointing to all the dingy bottles waiting behind him. “A beer…or?”

“Yeah," you test, “what’s the or?”

“Or,” he says, slow with it, "you sit round drinking nothin’ and wait until I can take you home.”

Your brows shoot up like he’s told a lie bigger than any you’ve ever heard. “You gonna take me home?” you ask, thinking yeah, he’s gonna take you home, and you’re gonna be the next big Santy Claus.

He nods and it keeps going, like his head gets away from him. “Yeah,” he says. “Yeah, I can give you a ride.”

For a second, you find yourself worrying about it. “That code for something else?”

He pulls a pack of cigarettes from his jeans and sets one in-between his lips. “No. S’just a ride.”

You watch the lighter flip, the cigarette catch. Watch him take a drag and blow it out again. He isn’t acting drunk, and he don’t seem like he cares either way, whether you take a ride from him or not. All he seems bothered about is finding the end of that smoke, and popping the cap off another beer.

If these are wolves, then he’s the oldest of them. The most tired and nicked with battle scars. From where you’re standing, that makes him the least threatening too, cause you come with a whole load of baggage, and he looks like he’s got even more than that. And anyone with all that shit on their shoulders? Yeah, they’re not gonna be no sort of trouble at all. They just wanna get home at night with their head pinned on straight still.

"Well alright,” you say. “I’ll take a beer and the ride, too.”

“Beer and a ride,” he grumbles back, not moving the cigarette and losing his words because of it. “I’m Johnny."

“Johnny?”

He nods, handing you the beer he just readied for himself.

“Thanks.” You give him your name the same way he gave you his, and he says it back to you, the way you did with him, though you know you didn’t mumble it the first time. He heard you just right. “This the part where I tell you how far away I live, and you say actually, I don’t got the gas for that, right?”

“How far d’you live?”

“Other side of town.”

He shrugs. “I got gas enough.”

And that’s how you end up on the back of his bike, clinging on like some sort of koala bear thing, with the town going past like it’s made of nothing but air, cold, loud, air. Flooding your ears and the collar of your jacket, even the ends of your pants are filling up with it. Going so fast nothing feels like anything, only that, everything feels of everything. Way too much. By the time you’re pulling up to the house, your head’s spinning like you had ten beers, not two, and he has to offer his hand just to get you off in one piece.

“God,” you say, “does it feel that crazy every time?”

He looks like he wants to smile, but something inside don’t let him. “Guess so.”

“Well, you got bigger balls than me, that’s for sure.”

Then he really wants to smile, you can see it in the little crinkles by his eyes. “Night, kid.”

“Not a kid,” you tell him, cause you lived through too many years of shit to not get the respect an adult deserves, plus, you ain’t even that much younger than he is. Anyone without a stack of lines down his forehead must look like a kid to him. “Thanks for the ride. You really saved my ass.”

He waves it off, like it really was nothin, though actually it was a pretty big something, a real good favour. “Ah. Wasn’t gonna let nothin’ happen to you.”

“Oh yeah? Saw me walking in like some sort of square and the alarm bells went ringing?”

“Yeah. Like that.”

You hum a little, shrugging while you think on it. “I could’a handled myself,” you tell him. Which isn’t all the way the truth, but it’s not too far from it neither. You can get mean when you have to.

“Maybe, but you didn’t have to, did you?” He kicks the bike to life again, and there goes that engine, so loud his ears must be working half as good as they should be. “See you around,” he says.

You nod. As far as last words go, those are some pretty boring ones, but it’s later than late now, and you’re not feeling like standing outside any longer until one of you comes up with something better. So he gets a “see-ya” and that’s the last thing either of you will ever say to each other, cause when are you ever gonna find yourself in the middle of some roughed up, leather wearing, bike club, ever again?

____

Well. Turns out you got a whole lot wrong when it came to figuring Johnny out. Not even a full day goes by, and you’re hearing that rumble, that big bru-bru-bru, clattering noise coming right back down your street. And Mrs Saccone, who’s normally deafer than deaf, is banging a broom on your wall telling you to get rid of it. To get rid of him. Can you imagine? Old lady, never done nothin wrong in her life, as far as your Pops ever knew, and suddenly, big mean man on a bike, sitting outside and ruining her TV dinner.

You couldn’t get out there fast enough. Half-dressed, you know, you were ready to settle down for the night. Work stuff off and replaced with those big, old man type boxer shorts. If it weren’t for the bathrobe, wrapped all up round yourself, you’d have blushed so hard it’d burst a blood vessel.

“You forget something?” you ask, parking your feet and slippers right onto the concrete next to him. “I got neighbours, you know.”

He frowns, pursing his lips as he looks you over. “I wake you up?”

“No. But I’d be lying if I said you weren’t disturbing my peace.”

He nods, still running that engine, one foot on the ground to keep him in one place there. It goes so long without him saying nothin that you start thinking maybe it’s your turn, and you forgot which one of you spoke last or something.

“Can I help you, Johnny?”

“Let me take you out,” he says. Not a question, but not bossy with it neither, just ‘let me’. If he’d said it like an order, you would’ve told him to stick it where you told the cab driver to stick it last night, but he seems to know better than that.

You pull the robe tighter, right up to your neck. “I’m not going back to that bar,” you tell him.

“No, not there.” He flicks a gloved hand over the bars of the bike, imagining some fancy, high-class sort of place, right there in front of him. “Somewhere nice. You and me.”

It’s a good thing your mother is on a whole other continent, because without thinking much about it at all, you say, “Alright, sure. You can take me out.”

He smiles, and it might not be, but it feels like it’s the first one he’s shown you, all real and bunched up in that stubble of his. “You should go get dressed then.”

You feel the life drain right out of you. “We’re going now?”

“I’m here." He shrugs. "So, yeah, why not?”

“You know most people would hate you for that,” you say, “giving a person no warning.”

The bike goes quiet then, and he swaps the keys for a pack of smokes in his pocket, leaning back like he got all the time in the world. “D’you hate me?” he asks.

“I might.”

“Oh, might.” He says it back like you don’t mean it, and won’t mean it, with another one of those funny throwaway noises following on after it. “I’ll take my luck with might.”

And what d’you say to that? Nothin, you say nothin, all you can say is, “Give me ten minutes.”

Then you’re trotting back up the porch steps, hoping Mrs Saccone isn’t peeping through the curtains, and wondering what the Hell you’re gonna put on that’s any kind of suitable to go to a nice place with a Vandal on your arm.

If it weren’t your life already, you wouldn’t believe any of it. This time just yesterday, you were at some square neck, office party, saying goodbye to some upper-level fucker—who never learned your name, and didn’t even thank-you for the half serious farewell note you left in the communal goodbye card—and tonight? God, if you weren’t so used to shit going unusually, you’d be pinching yourself. Real hard, too.

Some man called Johnny, who you don’t know from Adam, swinging by to pick you up on his motorcycle. Yeah, ‘crazy bitch’ really is starting to feel like an appropriate title for you to have. Who would’a known?

........................

part two here

tagging: @drabbles-mc @garbinge

#the bikeriders fic #johnny davis x reader #johnny davis fic #the bikeriders x reader #johnny davis

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gentlebeardsbarngrill · 5 months ago

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06/14/2024 Daily OFMD Recap

TLDR; David Jenkins; Rhys Darby; Samba Schutte BTS; Vico Ortiz; Ruibo Qian; Flag Day/3yr Anniversary of OFMD Filming; AOC: Raffle Updates; Tell Tale TV Voting; WBD Stocks Status; Fan Spotlight: Cast Cards; OFMD Colouring Pages; Love Notes; Daily Darby/Tonight's Taika;

Happy Friday all! I hope the weekend is long and restful for you.

== David Jenkins ==

Chaos Dad posted on Instagram today with the hashtag #RelaxMax #WhosAGoodBoy. Sure seems to be a hint in there somewhere, but what does it mean? Whatever it means, it's definitely directed at MAX.

Source: David Jenkins Instagram

== Rhys Darby ==

Rhys is out and about with his family!

Source: Rosie's Instagram

Source: Finn's Instagram

== Samba Schutte ==

Samba was kind enough to drop a LOT of BTS today, specifically to help folks who want to see more of Roach's outfits.

For all the images/videos you can visit:

Samba Schutte Roach S2 Reference Part 1

Samba Schutte Roach S2 Reference Part 2

== Vico Ortiz ==

"Some Sag Rising curly hair chaos ❤️‍🔥 Catch me…. If you can 😏 ✨LAX-NYC-SJU-PHX✨"

Source: Vico Ortiz' Instagram

== Ruibo Qian ==

No Idea the context on this one! But Ruibo is featured!

Source: KayBrooZayZay's Instagram Stories

== S1 Filming Anniversary / Flag Day ==

Today is Flag Day! @adoptourcrew reminded us that 3 years ago today, OFMD Started filming! They also asked folks to show off their flags! Feel free to hit them up on the various platforms!

Source: Adopt Our Crew's Tumblr

For those of you who are elders in the fandom, you'll probably recognise this from June 14, 2021

Source: David Jenkin's Twitter

== AOC: Raffle Update ==

Great job everyone! The Charity Raffle for #OurFlagMeansPride is doing fantastic! 67 charities and already $2,617 already raised!

Wanna enter the raffle? All you need to do is donate to an LGBTQ+ Charity to qualify and submit to them on their google form! Visit @adoptourcrew on Tumblr, Instagram, or Twitter for charity examples as well as how to sign up!

Source: Adopt Our Crew's Instagram

== Tell Tale TV Reminders ==

Are you tired of reminders yet? Well, there's only a couple more days -- and you can vote every day so please do! Remember, there's OurFlagMeansDeath, and Rhys and Ruibo up for award! Tell Tale TV Awards Voting

Source: Tell Tale TV Twitter

== WB Related Articles ==

Warner Bros stock analysis: WBD could tank to $5 soon

Source: Seven_Sugars Twitter

== WBD Stocks Status ==

Source: WBD NASDAQ

== Fan Spotlight ==

= Cast Cards =

Back tonight is more cast cards by our darling @melvisik! First up is John Mahone, one of our lovely writers! and next is Ma Christina C. one of our lovely members of the Red Flag Crew!

== OFMD Colouring Pages ==

More Colouring Pages --this time for Flag Day from our talented crewmate @patchworkpiratebear and presented by @adoptourcrew!

Source: AdoptOurCrew Twitter

== Love Notes ==

Hey there lovelies. Happy start to the weekend! Work has been throwing me through a loop this week, and with my girl Zoey still sick I've been completely out of it, so I'm gonna try to go to bed early tonight if I can, so love notes will be short tonight. I know the past many months have been rough without our show. Since the cancellation we've had ebbs and flows, and sometimes it's hard to remember just how long it's been. (I literally caught myself saying, man this cancellation has been going on for a year!-- wow no, not that long but damn!) The good news is, so many of you have taken that grief and turned it into something beautiful. Whether that's friendships, or artwork, or fibre work, or writing, podcasts, podfics, songs, gifs or image edits-- or even just kind words you give to friends or strangers. You really are wonderful, lovelies, don't forget that. Remember that your kindness is a strength, and it makes all our lives better. Thank you for being kind to me, and all your fellow crew since the cancellation.

With WBD struggling a bit, and BINGE streaming OFMD S1 and S2, I'm really starting to feel hope again. I know everyone's weary of that kind of hope right now, so feel it when/if you can. But I feel like things are looking up <3 Rest well crew, see you tomorrow.

== Daily Darby / Tonight's Taika ==

I don't know about yall, but tonight's theme reflects my need for a nap, anyone else?

Gifs courtesy of @ ofmd-ann and @ gattonswood

#ofmd daily recap #rhys darby #rhys darby faction #vico ortiz #ruibo qian #david jenkins #choas dad #samba schutte #ofmd bts #ofmd #our flag means death #long live ofmd #save ofmd #adopt our crew #adopt our crew crewmates

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shir0oos-thoughts · 1 month ago

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Sorry not sorry to any Knox fans but i needed to rant a lil bit

Be forewarned….this is a LONG one guys😮‍💨

When him and Tess were first introduced i was like “Oh well just as long as they don’t take too much away from the main story and are likeable” (BOY was I wrong😟)

Now don’t get me wrong he was a big help at the end of the book by helping transport the scepter. Also when Tess got fairystruck, anyone else thought “huh…that was…easy?” AND I GET IT the fairies were probs influenced by the interactions of humans (especially kendra) and were flattered by her costume as well as her age may have helped but it just all felt wayyy too plot convenient..

THEN they started getting their own chapters. Okay. Now im lowkey irritated bc could you IMAGINE if we got a RONODIN pov or one of Warren, Vanessa or Tanu? And i knoww its bc they’re cousins & are important secondary characters (even though the characters i listed are just as, maybe even more important) BUT WHEN I FINISH SETH’S CHAPTER I GET ALL EXCITED FOR KENDRA’S and then it’s one of theirs… (though the only thing saving it was Newel and Doren tbh) And I have to force myself to finish it bc i don’t wanna miss important details😔

And this isn’t particularly referring to Tess mostly Knox being insufferable but the point still stands!

*ALSO when he killed Remulon (which he did do his big one with that so 👏👏👏) Shouldn’t he technically NOT have been able to use the unicorn horn since in theory it’s impossible to just pick it up bc it attacks the person with magical guilt?? If anyone has the answer to this lmk plz DID I MISS SOMETHING or is this just a plothole??😭

ALSO also when he had the AUDACITY to TRY Seth (even if he was influenced by the crown) while he was “giant king” talking all that smack as if he didn’t injure Newel after being told how DANGEROUS the unforgiving blade was. And Seth just made him eat back up his words with barely any effort I KNOW THATS RIGHTTT I absolutely loved that scene😝

…..And don’t even get me STARTED on the whole Ob“knox”ious joke….😕

Overall he was helpful and can crack good jokes, when its not corny!! Just *REALLY* annoyingly boastful at times. Tess was tolerable tho. I would add more but this is already long enough as is lol.

But Im curious on other people’s thoughts on him🤔

#ughh #rant post #fablehaven #dragonwatch #kendra sorenson #seth sorenson #warren burgess #vanessa santoro #ronodin #brandon mull #my opinion #i love memes #meme #Shir0oos-thoughts #i need mutuals #poll time

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angel-of-the-moons · 11 months ago

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Local Flavor

Poe Dameron x Fem Twi'lek!Reader

Summary:

On a solo job to Ryloth to pickup a shipment for The Resistance, Poe runs into an unexpected hiccup. With his only transport damaged and BB-8 offline, Poe is forced to stash his cargo and venture out into the harsh Rylothian landscape, where he finds you. Or, more accurately... you find him.

TW/CW: Near death, infection, fever, dehydration, fluff, Poe is a disaster pansexual idiot, BB-8 is his son fight me. Bugs!!! Big!!! Bugs!!! Strip poker (technically), everybody checks everyone out, but nothing explicit happens.

A/N: It's about time I wrote something for Poe! I can finally do the idea I had now that I thought up a plot! This fic takes place before The Force Awakens! (I hope you guys like the reference I put in there! Dun dun duuuun!)

And like, I just wanted an excuse to show Leia being the "team mom".

Asdfghjkl god this is a long-winded one but I didn't wanna break it up into parts; and the ending feels a bit lacking, but i loved writing it.

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It was supposed to be a routine supply run for some extra credits for the Resistance.

Go to the location, pick up the package from the dead drop, bring it to his ship, and go deliver it to his contact for payment, then come on home.

What he didn't anticipate? Was the pack of gutkurr that ambushed he and BB-8, his droid companion after they spent almost a full day digging up the concealed cache.

The large carnivorous insects ambushed them on the way out of a rocky canyon bend, jumping from the well-camouflaged crevices they concealed themselves in and onto the speeder he'd paid next to nothing for.

It was a junker, for sure, but the fuel cells and thrusters were good enough to do the trip he needed it for. He wouldn't be able to fit his ship into these narrow twists and turns even if he tried.

Maybe if he had his X-Wing, but that would have been too high-profile for this run, which is why he had to settle for a simple, tiny cargo freighter.

But while on the ground he needed something more maneuverable. Hence that kriffing speeder.

As soon as one of the gutkurr landed on the hood, the thin metal folded in, the inner workings of the speeder sputtering and erupting into smoke as the sickle-like claws of the creature dug into the metal for better security as it snapped its jaws in Poe's direction.

He had to bob and tip away and try to see around the animal, while BB-8 shocked it if it got too close to Poe. Always his best sidekick, that droid was his partner in crime.

But try as the little droid might, he just was no match when the speedier just died, unable to take the strain anymore as the electrical system short-circuited and send sparks of light arcing every which way, sending the droid's head spinning with a high pitched "beep-wheeeeep!" before completely stilling.

The nose of the speeder was forced down, digging a gouge of dry craggy soil until it pitched forward because of the sheer weight in the front from Poe, the gutkurr, and the cases of cargo strapped to the sides.

Poe was sent flying through the air, just narrowly dodging the snapping maw of the gutkurr as it rolled back to its feet, a piece of jagged metal jabbing into its flesh where the natural armor plating had gapped.

Poe spun around, both blasters drawn as the rest of the pack caught up, salivating at the prospect of a fresh meal.

A big, handsome, juicy one, if Poe actually had to brag about it.

He'd tried to fire at them, but his blaster bolts simply bounced right off their thick carapaces.

Kriff.

He fired again, and once more the red bolts fizzed off the shells and into the canyon walls, sending shards of chalky rock and dust raining down on them.

"Kriff!"

There were three of them.

Three of them versus one of him. It may have been a bit more even had BB-8 not been fried by the overload to his system, but right now it was down to just what little he had on him to fight. And it wasn't much. He had a few grenades... but were they enough to get through their carapaces when his blaster couldn't?

The creatures all hissed as they slowly advanced on him, snapping their maws and growling deeply to intimidate him into turning and running away, just so they could strike at him from behind.

Poe was reckless, but not stupid.

Okay, well maybe there was that one time on Corellia, but--

He sucked his bottom lip between his teeth as he slowly put one foot in after the other, backing away as carefully as possible with no sudden movements.

"Okay, buglies... Easy, there..." Poe said gently to them, his dark eyes darting around frantically for an out.

Firing his blasters was pointless, it bounced right off the ugly shells--

Wait.

His eyes quickly raked up the sides of the craggy rocks towering on either side of them. Maybe...

Ah... screw it.

Poe backed further from the speeder, leading the nasties away from his downed speeder and best pal.

If he timed it right... Then maybe he could pull this trick off.

"Come on, that's it... come get a nice juicy bite of some Dameron steak..." He continued to talk to himself as his hand slowly lowered his other blaster, letting it hang loosely from the worn leather strap. His fingers deftly found their way to the round objects in one of the pockets of his belt and he pulled one out, his thumb flicking the arming switch.

His feet moved beneath him in a blur.

In a second he was able to toss a grenade at the feet of one of the gutkurr, the creatures snarling and hissing at the object before it detonated, sending shards up through the softer shell of the underbelly through one of them, killing the creature with a thunderous boom and crack as the carapace gave way beneath the force of the explosion.

Poe had thrown himself backwards as the explosion tossed one of the remaining two insectoids against the canyon wall, disorienting it as the other lunged for Poe, snatching his leg between his jaws and crunching down.

Either the gutkurr didn't intend to rip his leg off or it was knocked off its senses by the blast, he didn't know. The searing pain as the animal's fangs shredded through his leather boot and ripped into his skin, sending hot gushes of bright red blood out onto the yellowish sand below.

Poe cried out, gritting his teeth and blinking back tears as he raised his blaster again, this time pressing the barrel straight against the eye of the beast; the white-hot bolt burning right through to the brain, killing it with a double-tap of the trigger.

Once it slumped to the side, Poe scrambled away once more, grabbing another grenade from his pouch and tossing it to the last surviving gutkurr.

He rolled into his side and covered his head as it detonated, sending chunks of rock crumbling from the canyon walls, falling and crushing the gutkurr beneath the weight of the stones.

Once the dust cleared, Poe laid back in the sand and heaved heavy breaths, sweat soaking his clothes as the adrenaline coursed through his body.

He managed to force himself to his feet and hobble back to his crashed speeder. His first action was to pull BB-8 free from the socket and proceed to check him over.

Upon seeing the scorch marks, Poe's brows pinched up and his heart fluttered.

"Oh, buddy..." He breathed as he leaned in, pressing his forehead to what would be the spherical droid's face.

"Don't worry," He promised. "I'll get us out of here. And then... we're getting the hell off of Ryloth."

Poe carefully set his droid pal to the side and began scrambling for his medical kit.

When he found the busted metal tin, he cringed when he saw the contents. One singular bacta patch and a bunch of bandages.

Seriously? What had he been thinking! The General told him he needed to keep a fully stocked kit on him, but did he listen? Noooooo.

"C'mon, General. It's me." Poe grinned at her. "How often do I get shot?"

She pursed her slightly wrinkled lips and crossed her arms, her brow quirking upwards skeptically, her bright beautiful brown eyes locking with his own.

"Do you want me to count on both hands or use my toes, too? Because I'd still run out if I tried to count."

Damn, the woman had been right. Again. He had half a mind to wonder if she didn't see a vision of him getting shot before this run, and reminded him solely because of that.

He read in a holo once that Jedi could use the Force to heal wounds, and he was currently fresh out of Jedi.

The throb in his leg sent fresh tears surging up to dew on the edges of his eyelashes as he dropped down.

Taking a piece of the cargo mounting that had broken off during the crash, Poe used his knife in his other boot to slice the remainders of his pants leg away and carefully toe'd the boot off his foot so he could better assess the damage.

And yeah, it was bad. He needed a medical droid or some kinda doctor, fast. With how bad the lacerations to the flesh and muscle, infection would be a death sentence. From a simple glance, even he could tell his tibial and fibular arteries weren't damaged (thank the Force) because of the gaps that were between the gutkurr's fangs.

But the force of the bite alone at least fractured his tibia, maybe even broke his ankle.

Kriff.

Poe ripped the foil packet containing the pitifully tiny bacta patch and pressed it down over the biggest hole in his leg.

Hell, if it couldn't fix it all, it was better it fix some than none.

He winced as the cold gel touched the open wound, and rifling through the kit once more provided him with some much-needed sterile gauze. No antibacterial gel however, so the risk of infection was still there. Especially from the saliva of that nasty critter alone.

"Beggars can't be choosers, Poe..." He grunted to himself as he broke another loose piece of metal from the cargo mounting and lined them both up, struggling to wrap them as tight as possible on either side of his leg so he could make a field splint.

He gripped the sides of his speeder and groaned as he felt his adrenaline wane as he looked at the wreckage.

Well... now he had another problem.

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By another graced miracle, Poe was able to create a sled that he was able to drop the crates of cargo onto, as well as his precious droid friend.

After he stashed and concealed the cargo in a small cave, Poe took stock of what little provisions he had, which consisted of some pre-packaged meals and two or three water capsules.

Barely enough to survive long; but, he remembered the way out of the canyon. There was a forest or a jungle on the fringes of the desert, not far from where he'd come in... Maybe he'd have a better chance of surviving. Maybe...

Poe talked to BB-8 as he dragged the offline droid behind him on the sled, murmuring stupid jokes and ideas about the shenanigans they'd get up to once they were home free. And about the ear-bending lectures the General would give him.

He realized though, after two days, that he was hopelessly, terribly lost. His water was running low, his food rations were okay because of the portions he limited himself to, but once the fever set in, the logical side of Poe's brain told him he was going to die an inglorious death in the middle of nowhere, thanks to a bum leg and a bacta patch that did a piss poor job.

Poe kept going until he lost track of time, walking on and on until he collapsed, face first into his own tracks, shortly lamenting his own life choices as he drifted from the conscious world.

Man, did the universe have a twisted sense of kriffing humor.

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It was a simple day for you. You were on your way back from picking clean a crashed Republic-Era ship for parts to bring back home to improve some of your farming equipment. Maybe you could catch some spare credits to stash in your emergency pouch beneath the floorboards in your bedroom.

Your blurrg, Kari, crooned deeply as she pawed at the rocky sand with her stumpy legs. You sighed, adjusting your sun visor back down to shield your eyes from the harsh light of your homeworld's star. It was an unusually clear day for this time of year, and the sun was especially unforgiving. You couldn't wait to get into the safety of the treeline and back to your meager little farm in the forest.

"C'mon, Kari. The sooner we can get home, the sooner I can get this cart off you." You say, leaning down to pat her, one of your lekku falling over your shoulder to dangle down, the tip curling slightly.

Sometimes you envied how humans could cut their hair, but if you cut your lekku, you were as good as handicapped, with how sensitive yours were to touch. Yeah, your head-tails were longer than average, and irritating, but hey, they were yours.

The sun gleamed off your sweat-soaked skin beneath your fatigues as you nudged Kari with your heel in the stirrup to get her to continue moving.

But once again, the stubborn she-beast refused to move, rumbling deeply in protest as she shook her stubby little head.

You grit your teeth and squint against the harsh sun, and that's when you see it. Your other animal companion, a can-cell, Cviki, circling overhead, his iridescent wings fluttering against the updrafts, the sun glimmering off his bright blue-green carapace as he made another aerial pass.

You frowned. There should be nothing in that canyon except the roving pack of scavenging gutkurr you have long known to avoid. Growing up in Ryloth, you knew Twi'leks were tasty snacks for the large insectoids. So why was Cviki circling like something interesting was there? There couldn't possibly be people, even the smartest smugglers knew it was dangerous in those canyons, all the locals avoided them with good reason.

You click your tongue and jerk the reins, "Alright, ma sareen. We'll go see what has you both so interested."

You bring your fingers to your lips and make a high-pitched whistle. The tune Cviki understood as "I'm coming, be careful" since you'd raised him from a larvae.

Maybe whatever was in the canyon was worth some credits in salvage?

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You carefully marked your path into the narrow canyon as Cviki led you from above, knowing full well not marking your trail was a death wish to the unprepared.

But you were anything but unprepared.

Your lekku flopping in the breeze as Kari galloped through and in-between the canyon walls, you make an audible gasp as you yank the reins on Kari's harness, squeezing your feet instinctively in a command to stop.

A crashed speeder of some sort (honestly it probably looked better in the ground than when it was running) and the rotting corpses of three gutkurr lay in the craggy soil, smaller scavengers already hard at work picking the remains clean.

Living gutkurr smelled bad enough, but their dessicated corpses were horrible.

You dismounted Kari, patting her flank as you walked by, pulling your long blaster rifle from its sling low on your hips as you carefully walked around the wreckage, poking the twisted metal with the barrel of your rifle just in case.

Upon further inspection, you see nothing of value. Not even the droid that was surely busted judging from the scorch marks in the docking port.

Damn shame. A droid was just the thing you were missing to help out on your farm. Parts from whatever droid had been docked there really would have helped finish up the one you had in pieces back in your workshop.

Oh, well...

You kept looking around, noting that there was not only no sign of a droid, but no sign of the pilot of the speeder. You shoulder your rifle again and kneel down, touching the soul with your fingertips as you study the boot prints that had almost been fully covered by the drifting sands.

"Ah, hells." You mutter as you stand. Some poor fool had been sent on a fool's errand by some smuggler.

You turn, pushing your other lekku back over your shoulder as you whistle for Kari to approach. Cviki had stopped his flying to stick to one of the rocky walls, chittering down at you curiously.

You snap your fingers as you mount your blurrg once again, and whistle sharply at Cviki.

"Wachamio!" You shout up at him in Ryl, pointing down the canyon. "Let's go see if that poor sod is still breathing!"

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Yeah, he was breathing all right. Breathing and feverish. Hell, when you caught up to Cviki you had to swat at his beak when he picked up the human man's uninjured leg in his mouth and tugged, playfully trying to see if he would play.

Yeah... he was the guy who fought those gutkurr, all right. He got damned lucky.

"Oh, kriff." You sighed, kneeling next to him as he weakly swatted at you, his eyes dry and crusted closed. You could tell by the sweat and mucus that he was battling an infection, most likely from the deep injury to his leg. He probably got bit by that gutkurr; everyone knew to immediately disinfect any bites--if you survived an encounter with a gutkurr that is--because of the bacteria that lived in gutkurr saliva. It was a death sentence to anyone without proper medical supplies.

And when you'd looked inside of the medical kit at the wreckage, you could see he had none.

'Equal parts desperate and lucky.' You think to yourself as you effortlessly (and gently) wipe the crust from his eyes.

"Nu nala quin-nala wilo?" You ask him.

"Whuh--?" He rasped, his lips cracked and split from dehydration.

You roll your eyes with slight exasperation. The man was delirious, of course he wouldn't be able to understand you right now. And, for all you knew, he couldn't even speak Ryl.

"I'm going. To help. Youuuuu." You emphasize slowly and loudly in Basic as his head rolls around and he mumbles incoherently.

"Ugh, you better be worth it." You grunt, whistling for Kari to come closer so the cart was next to you.

Kriff, that man was all dead weight, you felt your muscles strain as you dragged him onto the cart that was still hooked to Kari. You had to shove your meager salvage off to the side to make room for him and his little BB-model astromech.

At least it wasn't a total bust, if this guy died, maybe you could get his droid back up and running to work for you. But those were thoughts for later.

Right now you had some dumb human to lug back home and try to save.

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Ugh... The only thing Poe knew was that he hurt. He hurt worse than that time he was tackled by that besalisk in that one cantina...

A drunken dare, mind you, but he still got flattened by the man's weight alone. There was still probably a dent in that cantina wall to this very day.

His head pounded, but he managed to drag his eyes open and force himself up with his palms.

His muscles ached and his skin hurt. He was shirtless and dressed down all the way to his undergarments.

Poe dropped back onto the bed he was resting on. It was comfortable, very much so; much more than the bunks on the ships and in the barracks he'd been hopping to and from the past few years.

So someone had saved his stupid kriffing ass, but he couldn't remember anything concrete.

He dropped his hand onto his forehead, the skin on his body peeling and flaking away as the sunburn healed; thinking back hard.

The last thing he remembered was his vision clearing somewhat, and then a bright light.

Wait...

He remembered a voice. A woman's voice, talking in a language he wasn't sure he was familiar with.

"Man... must've been an angel..." He chuckled sardonically, his voice cracked and throat dry.

Poe winced and looked to the bedside, seeing a glass of water next to him on the small table. Instinctively, he grabbed it and chugged it faster than a pint of cheap weequay beer.

By the Force, it felt amazing to finally have something wet his parched throat.

He turned his head when he heard whirring and a rolling sound approach the room, and a grin broke out on his face as the curtain was pushed open and a certain round little astromech rolled into the room with him.

"Aw, I knew I'd recognize the sound of those servos anywhere! BB! C'mere, you little--" He grunted, rolling off the bed and biting hit bottom lip as his injured leg hit the wooden floor.

BB-8 made several high pitched beeps and whirs in a chastising manner.

"I know, I know, but c'mere, you little cannonball!" Poe laughed through the pain, wrapping his thick arms around the round little droid as he trilled happily at his companion's better spirits.

BB-8 chirped and beeped again.

"Oh, my leg? It hurts like hell, where are we?" Poe asked, looking around. This was clearly somebody's bedroom, in some kind of small, prefab house that had been patched many times over. Probably purchased at a scrap yard. Hah. Like that kriffing speeder he wasted his credits on.

BB-8 whirred as he rolled about the room, making various noises as he explained to his human friend the situation.

"An infection?" His thick brows shot up. "Damn. Please tell me I looked beautiful when I went down?"

BB-8 stopped dead in his tracks, and the only part of him that moved was his head, and he made a few beeps.

"Okay yeah I knew you were out, it was rhetorical. Who do you think dragged you through that canyon?" Poe sighed, shaking his head, his sweaty curls dangling.

BB-8 tweeted in reply.

"A woman? Wait, so I wasn't hallucinating that part?" Poe blinked at the tiny droid as he wheeled his way up to him once more, bumping into him a few times affectionately.

"Okay, yeah, I get it. I owe the lady. Definitely owe her if she fixed you up, little buddy." Poe smiled warmly, patting the droid's chassis sweetly.

He was so caught up in the reunion with his partner that he almost jumped out of his skin when heavy bootsteps halted in the doorway and the curtain was pulled back, revealing... you.

Hot, gorgeous, sweaty and badass you. You were covered in grime and dirt from working the field you had and fixing your tiller that had crapped out on you. Hot damn, you were probably the hottest Twi'lek he'd ever seen, even your head-tails looked absolutely luscious.

You had initially sent BB-8 inside to fetch a tool, and when he hadn't returned you came inside to see why.

You tugged off your rawhide gloves and leaned in the doorway, smirking at the human as you shoved your gloves into the waistband of your pulled-down coveralls.

'C'mon Poe, put on the charm...' He chastised himself.

He cleared his throat and gave you his best debonair smile along with his signature quirked brow and squinted eyes; the smile that had won him the companionship from many women (and guys and others in-between) throughout the galaxy.

But he couldn't fathom the fact that he looked positively pathetic with a kriffed up leg, lying half-naked on your bedroom floor.

That is... until you broke out laughing, and BB-8 spun in a circle, joining in on your revelry at his attempt at flirtation.

Poe sighed deeply, dropping his cocky expression. "Eh, so... Uh... you're the lady who I remember from the canyon, right?"

You nod, your lekku quivering from within the soft leather quiver you'd bound them in, "Yana."

Poe blinked up at you. You did speak Basic just then, right? His hearing just messed up for a second? Right...

"So, on behalf of... well, me and my little friend here, thank you for saving us!" He grins awkwardly. "What's your name, miss..?"

You smirk again and utter something, your name, perhaps? And then ask, "Zul nala z'rate nala quora?"

BB-8 speaks to you for Poe when he doesn't answer, merely giving you a concerned look as he began to fear he was stuck with a woman who didn't speak Basic. He really needs to brush up on his xeno-linguistics...

You click your tongue and shake your head, "Su'un na, mesh'e yahte." You roll your eyes and tip your head to the side and tell him your name, this time clearly.

"Oh, man, am I happy you can understand me." Poe grinned. "Uh... Can you... help me off the floor? Please?"

"Yahte." You sigh deeply, walking over to him.

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The man you'd saved was someone called "Poe Dameron" a supposed "master pilot" for some "resistance". When Poe mentioned your skills as a medic and your ability to patch droids, he even hurled the suggestion to you that you join up.

You refused.

"What? Why?" Poe asked incredulously, setting his fork down on your tiny table as you both picked at your humble meal.

"Because I saw enough fighting when the Empire remnants sacked my hometown when I was a small child. They did it out of sheer spite for General Syndulla's role in the destruction of the last Death Star. I lost both of my parents, I lost my grandmother. If it wasn't for Numa saving me from the rubble I would have had nothing." You say, your lekku trembling at the memory of your home being blasted to smithereens.

Poe wilted. The two of you were close in age, the two of you were young enough and old enough to remember the Death Star, the war, the people you loved...

And, yeah, he understood your reasoning. Why get swallowed up by the war that devoured your family in front of you, when you can be a hermit, farming healing herbs and delivering produce and salted meats to one of the smaller towns further north?

"Okay... I'm sorry." Poe said, his eyes downcast as his own sour memories played back in his mind.

"No, no..." You sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. "I shouldn't have blown up on you like that. Kriff, I swear, living in the woods shortens my temper."

Poe smiled at you and stretched out his leg beneath the table, the brace you'd rigged up for him squeaking as he bent his knee.

"How's the leg?" You pipe in.

"Oh, it's definitely better. Whatever kinda magic plants you got, they're certainly doing the trick!" Poe grinned at you.

"It's not magic. It's just natural medicine." You waved your fork at him. "And don't forget, you owe me for using half my stash of bacta to help fix your leg. You still got a few weeks to pay off that debt to me, Mor'ski."

Poe held up his hands innocently, grinning sideways at you. "Heyyy... I'm a man of my word! And the deadline on that shipment is... Well it technically doesn't have one."

"Did you ever think that it didn't have one because your contact knew sending people into those canyons was a death sentence? Because they knew odds of one person surviving in that canyon were like, maybe 2 to 20?" You snort. "Sounds to me that the people who hired you have been feeding people to the gutkurrs until somebody could finally nab that cache."

Poe blinked and you could easily tell that the thought had never crossed his mind.

Yahte.

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"Careful, Mor'ski." You snort, leaning on the fence as Kari bucks Poe off her saddle once again; before shuffling on to drink from her trough. BB-8 makes loud beeping and trilling as he spins in a circle, enjoying some humor at Poe's expense.

"Ugh!" Poe groaned.

Kari huffed and made a short bellow, trotting back around to nudge Poe with her flat snout.

Poe pats her as he sits up, "Okay, you like me but not enough for me to ride you? I mean I knew my charm worked on the ladies, but c'mon, I can't even stay on you for five seconds!"

"That's because I've raised her almost directly from birth, Poe." You grin victoriously before clicking your teeth, uttering a few words in Ryl before Kari abandons Poe altogether to rush up to you for affection.

"That's it, ma sareen." You coo at her.

"Uhh!" Poe scoffs as he stands up, dusting off the old worn pants you'd loaned him, his leg brace creaking as he walked over to you.

The damage Poe had sustained to his leg from the gutkurr was bad. Bad enough that even your small stash of bacta patches (some of which were probably past their best by date...) couldn't heal all the damage or regenerate properly. Or perhaps it was from the bacteria eating away at his flesh when you found him. You weren't sure, but the man would walk with a slight gait for the rest of his life.

But of course, knowing Poe, he would use it to his advantage just to cock his hips out to get some attention.

You were almost gonna miss that idiot when he was well enough to leave, and his cute little droid, too. It was nice to have company after so long alone.

"Well what about him?" Poe asked, pointing to Cviki, who had just plucked a fruit from a nearby tree and ate it messily. "I bet I could ride him!"

You laugh and smack your thigh, "Oh, be my guest! But remember, Mor'ski: Cviki is a can-cell. Not a fighter. If he decides he doesn't want you in the pilot seat anymore..."

Poe swallowed a bit nervously.

Maybe he should stick with the blurrg.

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Three weeks had gone by, and you knew Poe leaving was inevitable. He had finally done away with the leg brace and you inspected his healing leg. It was coming along nicely. It would scar, for sure, but he'd be able to walk.

And you were right, before. He did walk with a gait, one he carried with confidence in combination with that aggravatingly handsome smirk of his.

Could this man find a dark side in anything? Other than the First Order? You doubted it, he seemed good at turning bad situations around.

And oh, you would miss listening to Poe dote on that cute little astromech, BB-8. He was like a father doting on his infant child. You even caught him scooping him up and carrying him if BB-8 couldn't flawlessly roll over something (though BB probably pretended he couldn't just to be picked up by Poe).

It's a wonder that droid got anything done at all! You remember when you first brought him online and he assumed you were some nefarious individual who had hurt his pilot and friend.

It wasn't until you physically brought the astromech in to see the unconscious and feverish Poe to earn that little droid's trust. With BB-8's know-how, you were able to fix a few systems in your own defunct protocol droid that you honestly assumed you'd have to fully replace, making it that much cheaper to get the old droid up and running. Once they left, anyway. You weren't in a rush to have the help anymore. You liked having Poe around, his stupid snarky comments and weird giggle of his...

And you'd be lying if you didn't catch yourself staring, sometimes, too when he was working on helping with your monthly harvest.

He was skinny from lack of decent rations, when you brought him in, but after being with you for a few weeks, getting a proper diet and food in him, he bulked up.

He was muscular, sure, but not that almost scarily-defined tone so many found attractive. Poe's figure had softened out around his muscles, giving his belly a slight pooch and the dimples on his back to become more prominent. The softness was certainly appealing...

He looked handsome healthy.

Why did you just think that? Why did you just--

Your hands stopped as you tied down your equipment for the coming storm system that was approaching from the north, and you looked up to observe Poe for a moment.

Poe was busy helping cover your younger plants so they could survive the tough winds. He'd even helped corral Cviki into his créche so he wouldn't get injured. As thick as his carapace was, all it would take was one piece of debris to shred his wings and he could risk being permanently grounded.

Cviki seemed to socialize with Poe rather well, chittering and purring when Poe would pat his bulbous head, his wings fluttering curiously and excitedly when Poe would launch a small branch in the air for him to fetch and bring back.

Poe was a masterful pilot--if his words were to be believed--but something inside you told him he was also suited for a calmer life. Like yours, running a farm, taking care of the animals; not fighting in a near-pointless cycle you couldn't understand.

But, it was his choice to make, and his life to live. And nobody in the galaxy could take it from him.

But little did you know, that you were already tempting him to...

You rushed then, to tighten the wenches on the equipment bindings as Poe covered the fresh plants, grunting as the wind tousled his hair into his face and struggled to get the tarps down.

You look up at the sky and frown when the angry and flashing storm clouds approach faster than anticipated. It could be a short, fast-moving storm, that was the hope.

But you were worried. If the clouds began to circle...

At least you had a cellar.

"Poe! Come on! The plants are covered!" You wince when a small twig is caught in the wind and smacks into one of your lekku as the wind pushes them about. You forgot to wear your sheath today and were paying for it.

"You sure?" He called out to you.

"Yeah! Trust me, I'm sure! Now we need to get inside before the main storm hits!" You wave your hand. "Wachamio!"

Poe took the spare second to slam the mallet down on the stake for one last measure, before hopping to his feet, BB-8 chirping and tweeting from the threshold of your door, urging you both to hurry up.

Once inside, you quickly spin around and use the metal bar and slot it into place so the door wouldn't blow inwards on you; all your windows had been properly covered and locked with the metal panels so they wouldn't get blown in as well.

Not one moment later, you begin to hear the first fat raindrops pelt the walls and roof of your home from outside, deep rolling thunder announcing the arrival.

"Well, uh... You ever play sabacc?" Poe grinned awkwardly, and you slowly grinned.

BB-8 made a sound that could be universally translated in any language as: "I've got a bad feeling about this."

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It was just downright unfair. Clearly the universe did not favor him, or his hands at this sabacc game...

He was down to his socks and underwear while you were confidently sitting across the table, the only things missing from your outfit was your shirt, leaving you in your breastband only from the waist up, showing off the small scars and loosely defined muscles from your hard-working lifestyle poking through the light softness of your body.

You lean in as you see him begin to sweat, frowning at the cards in his hand. You'd both agreed on a simple game of sabacc, but because there were no credits to be put in the pot, you both settled on your clothes as the storm waxed and waned outside, rattling the walls and making his ears pop. He wondered how the sensitive little cones that were your sensory organs felt in the storm. Could ear-cones pop? It was a thought for another time.

"What's the matter, Mor'ski?" You rest your chin in your palm, grinning like a firaxan shark.

"...Afraid you can't bring much to the table?"

Oh, that was a low blow. He could feel the blush rise in his neck as his face heated up.

"Hah! Please, I doubt you could handle aaaallll this." Poe sputtered as he leaned back and huffed, forcing his confident demeanor back to the surface.

"Oh, I d'nno... I've probably handled farming equipment that was bigger." You toss back, moving a fresh pick between your lips and teeth as you boredly thumb through your cards.

"...Okay now you're just being mean."

"Hmm..." You look back up at him, a cold smile on your soft-looking lips. Poe felt a cold shiver creep up his spine when you looked at him.

And it was even worse when you flattened your cards on the table.

"Pure sabacc."

"Kriff!" Poe groaned, slapping his own bad hand on the table and pushing his hand through his curls.

"Oh, come on! I'm down to my skivvies, here!" He whined.

"Oh, I know." You giggle, batting your eyelashes at him and your lekku curl upwards a bit. "I'm not planning on making you completely strip. I'm feeling merciful..." You purred.

"...What are you planning?"

"The storm's let up a bit for now..." You hum casually, tapping your fingers on the top of your worn wooden table.

Poe blinked at you, his eyebrows raised up on his forehead. "No way..."

"One solid minute." You say, sticking your finger up. "Run around in the rain for one solid minute."

"Oh, come on!" Poe groaned, slapping his fist on the table.

BB-8 chirped and spun in a circle, almost laughing.

"Oh, whose side are you on?!" Poe glared at the droid with a scowl.

BB-8 whistled and wheeled over to your side, beeping and whirring in reply, making you grin even wider.

"You said you're a man of your word, Dameron..." You chuckle.

"....Agh! Kriff, why are women like this?!" Poe groaned, scrambling his hands through his raven curls.

"A bet's a bet..."

"Fine!" Poe scoffed, shooting to his feet and marching over to the front door, where your boots both lay.

He grumbled under his breath the whole time as he shoved his feet into them. Ah, well, at least the view from behind was nice...

You bite your lip as he pulls the metal bar free and the door rattles from the sudden gust of wind. Poe grabs the latch and it takes most of his strength to keep it from swinging open.

Oh, the moment he darted out into the freezing rain was glorious. The yelp he made as the first freezing drops made contact with his skin had you squirming and cackling madly as you clapped your hands and stamped your feet excitedly, BB-8 spinning in place and tweeting loudly.

He ran in a circle with his arms held out wide, shouting expletives the whole time as bumps erupted all over his body as his boots squished in the mud.

Once the minute was over with, Poe scurried back inside, soaked to the bone and shivering, his teeth chattering as he looked at you.

"Happy...?" Poe grunted.

"Very much so." You giggle girlishly.

"Good because I'm never playing sabacc with you again."

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You both sat on the fence, watching as Kari ate from her feed trough, bellowing in between bites, her thick tail swaying as she eats.

"So..." Poe began.

"Hm?" You mused, spitting the weed from between your teeth.

"I still have that cache hidden in the canyon... I mean, I know you've already helped me out and everything but..."

You quirk your brow inquisitively. "You want me to help you transport it to the spaceport."

"...Well. Okay, I mean... Eh. Yeah..?" He said awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. "I don't have a mode of transportation or anything, and... I can give you a cut?"

You slowly look at him, blinking. "You'd pay me to help?"

"Yeah! I don't see why not... Plus it'll help pay back and replace the bacta patches I used... Might help pay for parts for that droid of yours..."

Your teeth gnaw at the inside of your cheek, thinking hard as you look down at the mud. He made some good points... He has no ride, he still needs those credits or his near death would have been for nothing...

And those credits really could help you out.

"Okay, Mor'ski. I'm in." You reply, slapping your palm into his.

Poe grinned and gave your hand a firm tug.

"Knew you would be, doll. Now let's get to it."

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You watched as Poe slid the last crate into the cart next to BB-8, fastening them down with wench straps so nothing moved. There had been no sign of gutkurrs since the two of you returned to the canyon, but that's also probably from the musk bombs you made to irritate their sense of smell.

Maybe if he'd hired a local guide through the canyons he wouldn't have gotten so screwed in the first place.

But if he did, he wouldn't have met you.

Hindsight is... well. A funny thing when you think about it.

"Do you even know what's in those crates?" You ask him as you mount Kari's saddle.

"Eh... no." Poe cringed.

"Did you ever think to check??" You frown at him.

Poe's gloved hands pat the crate in front of him, and even BB-8 whirs curiously.

"Ryloth is known for its spice production, Poe..." You sigh softly. "Interspace gangs like to use it for drugs, remember?"

"Yeah..." He said, gnawing on his bottom lip.

Screw it.

He popped the latches and peeked into the crate.

There were different objects, all bearing the sigil of the old Empire. Poe felt his blood run cold as he tossed the lid completely open, and began rifling through it.

Several objects had the Empire logo scratched out, some had them painted over. It was clear this cache no longer belonged to them, but...

"What is it?" You ask him.

"...A bunch of old Empire junk. The weapons are pretty much useless, their cells are drained. There's a few other things in here, but... They look like they'd only be useful to a damn collector than anybody of importance." Poe said, his body relaxed slightly. Nothing really dangerous were in these crates...

Except.

"Holy kriff." He breathed, reaching down to a small wooden box. It was half a foot long, and surprisingly, there was an image burned into the lid. A symbol he knew well as a young man, scrawled and graffiti'd on many Empire propaganda posters.

The symbol of the Jedi Order.

"What?" You asked, turning to look at him.

Poe reached in and pulled out a lightsaber. Its once shiny metal surface scuffed and dented, the black tips at the end of the handle flaked of paint, the clip snapped long ago. This lightsaber had been through hell, and had probably even seen action as far back as the Clone Wars...

"Is... Is that..." You stumble.

"A kriffing lightsaber." Poe said reverently. He slowly and carefully set the lightsaber back inside the velvet lined box, closing it and gently placing it back inside the crate.

"Nothing in here is dangerous, except the lightsaber, maybe. But nobody really knows how to use these except..."

"Jedi and Sith." You murmur. "Who would want that stuff if it's useless?"

"Like I said, a collector maybe. Or a dealer in war relics." Poe said, closing the crate again.

"Poe..."

"I know, but c'mon... Let's get going while we still got the sun."

"Right." You say slowly. You pat Kari's flank and jerk your head. "Get on, Mor'ski. We got at least a two hours' ride ahead of us."

Poe seemed wary. He'd ridden in the cart the whole trek out here, and all the failed attempts to ride that blurrg of yours made him hesitant to hop on her.

"Relax, if I'm riding with you, she'll be fine. Unless you wanna ride Cviki?" You smile wryly, the both of you looking up to where Cviki was poking at the rocks with his beak, his mandibles picking up smaller insectoids to munch on here and there.

"...No I'm good." He looked back at you as he stepped up to Kari's side.

As he grabbed onto your open palm with his, he looked at you with curiosity in his dark eyes.

"You good yourself, crazy lady?" He jabbed playfully.

"Rahn fanyo. Er... I'm fine." You mumble as he takes his seat behind you, politely placing his hands on your waist.

It was a gentlemanly thing to do, to avoid grabbing anything he shouldn't... but once Kari got into a good and decent trot, he'd bounce off her haunches faster than a blood fly.

"Poe, you're gonna need to hold on tighter than that. Or I'm gonna leave you in the dust and collect this bounty myself..."

Poe chuckled and awkwardly looped his arms around your waist, carefully adjusting it so your sensitive lekku were draped over his shoulders, so he couldn't squish them on accident.

"Like this?"

You rolled your eyes and tugged his hands until they were almost clasped together and his chin was practically on your shoulder. "There. Because being polite while riding a blurrg is gonna get you a concussion, yahte."

"Okay, you gotta teach me Ryl, doll." Poe chuckled.

You smirked over your shoulder as you snapped Kari's reins, nudging her with your heels.

"That would ruin the fun, Mor'ski."

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You watched as a group of children fed Cviki fruit out of their palms, giggling and laughing when his long tongue unfurled to wrap around their fingers and clean their hands of any lingering juices left over. Cviki was very approachable, for a cen-cell.

Kari on the other hand... She didn't really like anybody other than you. And, well, maybe Poe now, you supposed.

You sighed as you watched Poe speak with his contact, a rather fat Twi'lek man who was obviously well off. A broker, you supposed. One who sets up people with jobs like these. Technically avoiding any trouble with the law because brokers around these parts were simply like bulletin boards for smugglers, you could pick what jobs they conveniently had around, and if you got in trouble, they could disavow any connections to you while still making decent credits.

And it was obviously a very good front he was wearing, judging by the bejeweled rings squished onto the man's fat fingers.

When the two began walking over to you, you groaned softly, Kari huffing when she sensed your irritation. You detested people walking up to you when you didn't want to talk.

Your emotions were high for reasons you couldn't quite place, and a feeling of anxiety gnawed in the pit of your stomach.

Poe was leaving.

Soon, he would load the cargo onto this broker's ship and he would leave Ryloth, possibly forever. You couldn't blame him, after almost getting turned into a tasty snack for a pack of gutkurrs.

"And this lovely woman must be the person who saved your skin, eh, Dameron?" The Twi'lek man chortled, his fat jiggling merrily as he elbowed Poe in the side.

His thin mouth was stretched wide, making his cheeks appear even larger and more plump, his bright yellow skin drawing little attention to his sharp teeth.

"Yep, my savior all right. Worked me right to the bone to pay back half my debt to her after those ugly bugs tried to snack on me." Poe grinned back.

"My my, sounds like a keeper!" The man smirked suggestively at you two.

You rolled your eyes and curled your lekku slightly. The gesture was hidden behind you, but anyone walking by could see the irritation and hostility in the gesture.

Men have tried to get your attention for years, and certainly, a man of status like this was always looking for aides or escorts of some kind. That life wasn't for you, not one tiny bit.

"She's.... Uh. A good friend." Poe said, smiling at you.

His soft eyes eased the tension in you somewhat, but you were still jittery and anxious. One, about Poe leaving; two, all the people bustling about the spaceport; and three, these confusing kriffing feelings regarding the quirky pilot.

The Twi'lek man handed Poe a small box, likely containing his payment, and BB-8 drove into his shins twice.

"I know, I know, buddy! I was getting to that!" Poe sighed exasperatedly at the astromech.

"I'll make sure the dock officials don't snoop, say our goodbyes." The broker winked as he turned to walk away.

"So..." Poe awkwardly began.

"Mhm." You hum.

"I'm glad you dragged my sorry carcass out of that canyon." Poe chuckled, his fingers nervously brushing the sides of the box he held.

"I'm happy my effort wasn't wasted when Kari didn't eat you." You snort in reply, smiling despite yourself.

Poe laughed softly and opened the box, plucking up a few chips into his fist. He held out his hand and placed the silver and gold chips into your palm gently.

"Here. I'm a man of my word, remember?" He smiled at you warmly. "And I promised you a cut. This should cover the bacta, and some parts for that droid of yours. Plus, y'know. To get yourself somethin' nice."

When he winked, you felt a flush rise to your cheeks as you laughed.

"Yeah, well..." You shrugged, not sure what to say.

"...Hey." Poe said, his bottom lip sliding beneath his teeth for a moment before licking it.

"So, I know this is sudden, but--"

"Sir! Your ship is cleared and ready to go! You got five minutes!" A dockhand shouted from nearby, startling Kari to the point she made a concerned bellow and stumbled back a bit.

You shove the credits into your belt pouch, and coo and shush at Kari, patting her down affectionately to ease her sudden fright as Poe shouts back at the dockhand.

"Ah... Great. Fun." Poe sighed as he turned back to you, noticing how your lekku were twitching and swaying as you struggled to calm your blurrg mount.

You didn't turn back to face him, biting your plush bottom lip as you patted down Kari, trying now to calm yourself as much as her.

Poe was leaving.

Probably one of the only people you'd call "friend" was leaving, and then you'd go right back to your boring tedium from before, while he flew headlong into danger with BB-8 by his side.

You couldn't really hear him as he spoke to you, imagining just how many horrible ways he could possibly die out there, at the hands of the First Order, or some pirate scum...

You did however, become aware of how close he was when he slipped an arm around your waist and tugged you against him. You barely had time to gasp and ask what he was doing when he pressed his lips against yours in a rushed, but fiery kiss.

He pulled back from you, winking as BB-8 whirled and trilled, spinning in place a few times.

"See ya around, doll. And next time I'm in town, I'll visit."

You were left, blinking, mouth agape as he sashayed with that new gait of his towards the hangar of his ship, BB-8 hot on his heels, tweeting a farewell at you.

You stayed like that, the tips of your lekku twining around one another twice, your face flushed with a different shade as the ship shakily lifted off, blasting off into the clouds.

...If he did come back...

"Come on, Kari." You say softly before whistling to get Cviki's attention.

"Let's go get some shopping done."

Maybe you would buy yourself something nice to wear.

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Poe sighed as his ship launched into hyperspace, feeling sad as he kissed Ryloth's atmosphere goodbye. It wasn't as beautiful or as sweet as your lips were, for sure.

But it made his heart throb with sadness all the same...

He punched in a few buttons and the hologram of the broker appeared as the message began to play.

"Poe, my boy! Safe travels. I'm sure you and your companion had a lovely farewell, no?" He chuckled gleefully.

Poe rolled his eyes as he continued. "My contact got word back to me, and she's pleased that the cargo was intact and was impressed you were alive! How about that?" The man clapped his hands and laughed again.

"Well, just letting you know," His eyes twinkled. "Miss Kanata sends her thanks and hopes you enjoy the extra credits she left in your pay!"

Poe frowned at the name.

Wait... Miss Who?

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Leia watched as Poe studied the small hologram of a Twi'lek woman in front of him, squinting and mouthing the words as they left her lips.

The older woman smiled as she walked up to him, her long robes shuffling softly as her slippers padded the metal flooring of the base.

"Pick up a new language to learn, Poe?" She asked, her brown eyes shimmering as she sat next to him.

Poe almost jumped, unusually engrossed in the tutorial program he had been watching. He bashfully rubbed the back of his neck and laughed.

"You could say that." He replied.

"I noticed you walking with a limp, now, Poe." Her tone switched to a more affectionate and maternal tone. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah... Someone on Ryloth saved my hide from a bad sitch. Unfortunately I'm probably gonna be stuck with it forever, but I'd trade a limp for my life any day of the week." He grinned.

Leia hummed with a sweet smile as her eyes were drawn to the paused tutorial. "Fall in love with the local flavor, huh?" She grinned mischievously.

Poe stiffened and coughed into his hand, a blush to his cheeks.

"You... Could say that."

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Twi'leki/Ryl translation:

Wachamio! = "Let's go!"

Ma sareen = "My Sweet"

Yana = "Yes"

Wa-janeel = "Follow me"

Rahn fanyo = "I'm fine" or, alternatively, "Don't worry"

Twi'leki/Ryl Phrases I've smacked together/come up with (idk I'm not a linguist):

Nu nala quin-nala wilo? = "Do you know where you are?"

Zul nala z'rate nala quora? = "Can you tell me your name?"

Su'un na, mesh'e yahte. = "Oh great, he's an idiot."

Yahte = "Idiot"

Mor'ski = "Flyboy"

#poe dameron x you #poe dameron x reader #poe dameron x female reader #poe x reader #poe x you #poe dameron star wars #poe dameron #leia organa #maz kanata

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romanarose · 1 year ago

Text

Gross Reality

Santiago Garcia x fem!reader

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Triple Frontier Masterlist

800 Words

Summary: You are on your period and feel disgusting, Santi isn't phased.

Content Warnings: BODILY FLUIDS, all the bodily fluids. This fic is just me being self-indulgent because I'm feeling disgusting on my period today. Breif reference to butt stuff bc it's me. But mostly, if bodily fluids like puke and shit gross you out, keep going but I know this is the reality for many people who get periods.

A/N: In my head, this takes place in a lil universe of several of my Santi fics, including the one I did with Dolli, Honest Mistake, and but more importantly another Santi period fic I referenced in this fic, Santi With a Reader on Her Period.

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Santi Claus: Hey babe, you wanna come over today? The new Spider-verse movie is on Disney plus, we can refuel your fanfiction inspiration 👀or inspiration 👀 for other things 👀

Benny’s Hot Friend: Can’t, busy sitting on the toilet.

Santi realized, again, he needed to change his girlfriends name from what he had drunkenly put it in as months ago at Will’s engagement party.

Santi Claus: … just sitting there?

Benny’s hot friend: No, dumbass

Santi Claus: Did you get distracted watching tik tok for an hour again?

Benny’s Hot friend: NO! Im on my period and it’s day two and everything is fucking awful and I wanna die and I think I’m going to on this toilet

Santi Claus: Cramps?

Benny’s Hot Friend: Shitting, Santi. Shitting. I’ve bled through my tampons after 30 minuets and i'm sick of it and I keep needing to shit and it’s disgusting and I’m disgusting and I’m just free bleeding over the toilet and shitting when need because I can’t trust my farts ARE YOU HAPPY

Santa Claus is typing

Santi Claus is typing

Santi was very carefully plotting his next words.

Santi Claus: Amor, have you eaten today?

Benny’s Hot Friend: NO I HAVEN'T EATEN TODAY SANTI IF YOU MUST ASK AND I HAVEN'T HAD ANY CAFFEINE EVERYTHING IS TERRIBLE.

When he didn’t respond, you assumed he’d gotten sick of your shit. It wasn’t that long ago that you happen woken up on top of him with a surprise early period, bleeding all over your new boyfriend who you hadn’t even farted around, and now, although you were more secure, you still worried you’d come across as gross and bitchy and he was over it. Your periods were horrible, the first 2-3 days at least. Dejected, you clean yourself up but only to go get more pain medicine and plot yourself back down on the toilet.

Another round of cramps came and pretty soon you could add tears and puke to the list of fluids exiting you, ready to just get into the bathtub and cry when you felt your hair being held back and you look to your side to see Santi, eyes concerned and worried, but not disturbed.

“Do you need a hospital, mi vida?”

You shake your head. “No, tummy just hurts.”

Not deterred, Santi holds your hair and rubs your stomach as you empty into the trashcan until the pain subsided enough to try taking a pill again. Dutifully, Santi cleaned up the trash can and your face before guiding you up rinse your mouth out with mouth wash, all while muttering oft praises and encouragement. ‘There we go, let it out’ ‘Do you feel better? Bien.’ ‘Doing good, just spit it out now’

“Santi, I’m sorry, this is so gross-”

“Oh hush. This is far from the worst I’ve seen.”

“Saw worse in the military?”

“No- well, yeah, but I was thinking about the time Benny called me after getting food poisoning from Taco Bell and I had to play big brother while Will was out of town.”

“Yeah” You pant, stomach hurting. “I’ve had to deal with him sick too. He’s a bigfucking baby. Now can you please get out, I need to shit.”

Santi scoffed at that. “You think I don’t shit? I shit all day, three times before lunch-”

“Yeah, you should get that checked out”

“-I’m not phased. I’ve had my finger in your ass, I can handle what comes out of it.”

Finally, you giggle, smiling at him as he sat at the tub edge. “Okay, your funeral.” You bent over in pain again, wondering what the fuck you did to deserve this nonsesnese every month and what you did to deserve to deserve such a loving boyfriend. You wanted to marry this pain in your ass, marry him so hard. He talks to you while you take care of business whipping your face when you get the cold sweats

“Santi, I love you but you’ve gotta get outta here while I clean up.”

He chuckles, but concedes. “Okay, I brought over chinese food-”

“Oh FUCK YEAH”

“-and coffee”

“FFFFFUUUCCKKK YEEEAAHHH”

“I’ll get it ready in the kitchen when you’re done”

He does as promised and you begin to clean up when you get a ding on your phone. You didn’t realize it was Santi’s until it was too late, and you saw it. No, he wasn’t cheating. No, he wasn’t talking shit. It was the last text you sent him and you saw what your name was on the screen.

Benny’s Hot Friend.

“Santiago Garcia!” You stand in the kitchen with his phone, fully dressed but your hair clinging to your face from sweat. “Wanna explain my contact name?”

He looks confused, then his eyes widen and he stops plating your food. Muneca, listen, I can explain-”

“BENNY’S HOT FRIEND?!” But you were smiling.

He starts to back away, hands raised in defense. “I said you were hot!”

“Did you forget my name that night?”

“Honey, I had like 8 beers and I’m a short king! I was drunk!”

Playfully, you run at Santi, threatening to bleed on him again.

***************

Anyway, shout out to my Peeps in the whorefully yours discord! we all go there and complain about our periods bc they suck. Mine arent THAT bad, I mostly had the shits and the excessive bleeding and I do just sit on the toilet sometimes but I know other people who throw up from the pain.

Your pain is real, and you deserve someone to take care of you

@fandxmslxt69 @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @whatthefishh @k-ra @eyelessfaces @ivystoryweaver @steven-grants-world @campingwiththecharmings @ahookedheroespureheart @littlenosoul

#santiago garcia #santiago pope garcia #santiagogarcia reader #x reader #santiago garcia reader #fem!reader #santiago garcia fem reader #triple frontier #triple frontier fanfiction #triple frontier reader #sick fic #sic fic

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babyhatesreality · 6 months ago

Text

The Sinner and the Saint Ch 13

Pairing: Mob!Boss Bucky x f!reader

Warnings: NSFW, f!reader, language, reader is referred to by her stage name of Angel, reader is an exotic dancer, pet names, angry/controlling/domineering/asshole-ish mob boss Bucky, sir/daddy kink, everybody has secrets, reader is insecure and self deprecating, mentions of past d/s smut, reader in a dangerous situation, dom/sub relationship, angst.

YOU ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR YOUR OWN MEDIA CONSUMPTION. MINORS DNI. THIS IS AN 18+ STORY ONLY AND IS NS/FW. I DO NOT CONSENT FOR ANY OF MY WORKS TO BE COPIED, REPRINTED, OR TRANSLATED ONTO ANY PLATFORM EXCEPT MY OWN. Likes, comments and reblogs deeply appreciated.

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

You giggled into his mouth for the third time in a row.

Bucky's hands were holding your face to his tenderly, unwilling to release your lips from his kiss. He had an incredibly important meeting tonight during your shift at the club, which would cause him to miss your stage time. It was the first time since you'd gotten together, and he was not dealing well with it. You playfully pushed against his rock hard abs in another attempt at freedom- he'd held you captive in his arms for going on ten minutes now- but that only made him growl at you and tighten his grip. You giggled again and jerked your head backwards.

"BUCKY," you gasped, finally able to breathe through your mouth. His answering grunt reverberated on the underside of your jaw, where he'd instantly relocated his lips after you "so rudely" (in his mind anyways) pulled away. Your knees nearly buckled as he hit that sweet spot along the column of your throat, but you had to remain strong. "You are going to be late."

"I'm the boss. They can wait," he murmured, continuing the exploration of your neck with his lips.

"You told me that this was the only time the others could meet, so you have to go with their schedule."

"I'm still the boss."

"I'm NOT the boss, though, and I can't be late either."

"I own your boss. You can be late."

"Oh, I think Natasha might heartily disagree with you there, and NO, I can't."

When he heard those words, Bucky finally straightened up and looked you dead in the eye. "You wanna bet?" he said, his voice taking on that dominant tone that turned your insides to water. He cocked one eyebrow at you with that dangerous look that you knew better than to question.

It had been a blissful two months. Bucky was charming, sweet, wickedly funny, and it was obvious that he adored you. But in the quiet moments, his dark and feral side came out. And the quiet moments ranged from any time he noticed you were thinking poorly of yourself to anytime you got too sassy. Then he got quiet. And you were in trouble.

You had gone into this relationship knowing that he was a Dom, and once you had both discussed your limits, needs, and desires, this man fucking delivered. You had been fucked in every conceivable position and location, and been worshipped in those ways as well. He was utterly devoted to you. But he was quick to snap you back in line when you needed it. You'd always been a bit of a pain puppy, so anytime he had spanked you for your own good it had always felt so right. So right that someone loved you enough to correct you, discipline you, and help you with that glorious mix of pain and pleasure. It was the best of both worlds.

Not to mention the orgasms afterwards had always sent you over the moon.

He wasn't overtly controlling, but you had learned that a cocked eyebrow in your direction meant you were dangerously close to doing or saying something that he didn't like, and unless you were gunning for a sore ass you'd better back off. Not that you necessarily minded the sore ass- but it was a metaphorical pain in the ass to try to mask a burning backside when you were a freaking exotic dancer.

"I'm sorry," you said, tilting your head contritely and looking up at him with your best puppy dog eyes.

"Sorry what?" he replied, his eyes darkening with lust.

"Sorry, Sir."

"That's better," he growled low, before pulling you in for a kiss again. You surrendered, knowing that he was going to dig his heels in now. It wasn't that Bucky Barnes didn't go down without a fight. The man simply did not go down when it came to the fight. Besides, kissing Bucky was one of the best things in life, so...why were you arguing with him again?

Finally, when HE decided it was enough, Bucky released your lips with a sigh, then gently touched foreheads with you. "I'm sorry about this, Angel."

"Bucky, it's okay, I promise," you said in that soothing tone that usually made the stress crinkles in his eyes go away. "You've seen me dance every shift for the last two months. One night off isn't going to kill us." You gently ran your fingers along his smooth cheek. He'd shaved for this meeting- you knew this meant it was important. Even though he refused to tell you anything about his...job...he had told you that this was a huge, not-to-be-missed deal.

"Yeah, but...." he said, your big scary mob boss melting into an adorable pouting puppy of a man. "I'll miss you."

"I'll miss you too, but it will be okay."

"I...I don't like being away from you."

"You've been away from me maybe a grand total of 3 hours in the past two months. How do you even know you don't like being away from me?"

"Because every single one of those seconds I was away from you burned a hole in my chest." You melted on the spot. The way he could sweep you off your feet with his words was unparalleled. "I don't wanna miss anything. I want every second of you I can get."

"Well, come over to my place the second your meeting is done, and make me forget we were every apart," you said coyly, giving him your best shit-eating grin. He rolled his eyes, grinning in response.

"Ha ha, very funny," he drolled. "I'll have Clint pick you up after your shift and take you to the house."

You took a deep breath. Here goes. "Well, about that..." you bit your lip and looked away, just knowing that he was cocking his eyebrow at you. "I was thinking that maybe I could go back to my apartment tonight, and that you could come over to my place instead?"

"No."

Not even a moment of thought. You weren't surprised, but you had held the tiniest bit of hope. And it made you a little mad. "But Bucky..."

"I said no."

You looked up into his face. His don't-fuck-with-me-I-am-made-of-steel mask was firmly fixed on his face. You took a breath, then adopted your own no-nonsense look. "Baby, I've been paying for that place for the past two months and I've barely been in it for more than an hour in that entire time."

"This is supposed to sway me to your side? What have I been telling you about moving in with me?"

"I know, I know, but...I just need a little more time."

"Time for what?!"

You sighed, your shoulders slumping. "Can we please not do this now?" you asked quietly.

Bucky gritted his teeth and dropped his hands, flexing them in irritation as he took a step back. He took a breath of his own, before replying in a tightly controlled voice. "Fine, we won't do this now. But you know this isn't the end of it."

"I know, and....just....we'll get there, okay?" His ice blue eyes snapped to yours, making you rearrange your words instantly. "Sorry...I'LL get there. Sorry, Daddy." At that, his face relaxed a bit. "But...maybe if I go to my place tonight and then YOU come over....well, it might be the push that I need to..." you dropped off, still blushing at the thought of moving in with him. And Bucky sensed it immediately. He stepped right back towards you, his hands back on either side of your face.

"To...?" he prompted, willing you to say it. You sighed and smiled.

"To...be okay with what I already know I'm going to do," you whispered shyly. You fooled yourself into believing you didn't know why you were so nervous about this. This man had tied you up, splayed you open, and had his feral way with you more times than you could remember, but for some reason, this was what still brought the blush to your cheeks. The other memories brought the blush to other places.

If you were being honest, you knew exactly why you were so nervous. The feelings that you had for Bucky were so deep and intense, it stole your breath every time you thought about them. Being away from him was torture. It felt like the blood in your veins ran with shattered glass when he wasn't near. You needed him. Desperately. And to have that kind of intensity was overwhelming and overstimulating. But you would rather go through all of it than spend a moment without him.

In response to what he saw in your eyes, Bucky fervently pressed his lips to yours again- demanding, begging, worshipping. You placed your hands on top of his as you moaned into his kiss. Finally, he let you up for air again. "Now that's worth you going back to that...." He stopped as you pursed your lips at him in consternation. "....that PLACE of yours," he finished gallantly, both of you aware that he'd really wanted to call it that 'dump' of yours. "Clint will still pick you up and escort you to your apartment."

"That's not necessary," you said quickly, still feeling like an imposition every time he did this. "I used to walk home from the club alone all the time. It's only like 15 blocks, I'll be fine."

The steel mask slipped back in place. "That's not an option," he said in his dominant tone. "You WILL be escorted back to your place so I know that you're safe. Don't toy with me on this."

"Yes, Sir," you whispered, slinking your arms around his waist and burying your face in his chest to hide your feelings of guilt at both making him mad and putting Clint out from doing something probably more important, as well as the joy of his need to protect you. He sighed and wrapped his arms around you, laying his cheek on top of your head. His metal fingers gently drew lines up and down your back.

"Baby, I need to know you're safe," he said in a surprisingly husky tone, like his throat was closing. "I can't handle it if I don't know you're safe. Please don't ask that of me."

"Okay, Daddy, I'll go with Clint," you said, leaning back and looking at him full in the eye so he knew you were serious. "I'll be good, I promise." The tight eye crinkles disappeared, making your smile even bigger.

"Thank you, Angel," he said softly, before giving you one last kiss. "Now go kick some ass on that stage tonight."

"I will. You go kick ass at....whatever it is you're meeting about. What was it again?"

"Lame attempt. You know I'm not telling you."

You giggled again and shrugged playfully, making him laugh.

*****************************************************

You were trying to wait patiently in the dressing room. It was three hours past the end of your shift, and Clint still hadn't shown up yet. Bucky had arranged for Clint to pick you up at the back entrance where you usually exited, but there was no point in waiting outside until he got there. Besides, Bucky would probably pitch a fit at you being outside and alone, and you really didn't want to piss him off. Not when you were both this close to the next step in your relationship.

You shivered in delight, examining the way your eyes lit up in the mirror at the thought of moving in with him. Some part of you screamed that it was too soon- probably the part of you that was still wired with the super conservative only-child mindset you'd been raised with. But the greater part of you knew that you loved this man with a passion that you'd never believed was actually possible. He was your drug. And you were hooked for life, no going back. You weren't sure how long he was going to feel this way about you, so you had to make the most of every moment that you were given. Carpe Diem.

Your phone suddenly gave a short vibration, letting you know you had a text. Your body was suddenly flush with feeling when you realized it was from Bucky. What kind of hold did this man have on you, that just getting a text from him made you feel this way?

Much to your disappointment, however, it was incredibly brief. "Clint late" were the only two words he'd written. That was it? Three hours late and he was telling you something you already knew? You shut your eyes, trying to remember that he was in an important meeting and that he probably couldn't text more than that. You tried to remember to be grateful that he had told you himself instead of sending one of his men to do it. And who the FUCK had that many men at his beck and call all the time anyway?! Just what exactly- NOPE.

You stopped that line of thought in its tracks. You knew who he was. You knew...sort of...what he did. He kept things from you to protect you, and probably to protect his business too. He was a master at operating from the shadows, and he wasn't going to throw away his entire life's work just because he was fucking you. You probably didn't want to be in on the day-to-day of his empire anyways...right?

You sighed heavily, and text back "Ok" followed by a sparkly heart emoji. He knew you hated waiting- and had used that to his wicked advantage a couple times. You chewed on your lip in thought. So if Clint was late, what did that mean? Probably that he wasn't going to be coming at all. So then who WAS coming? Steve was with Bucky, as was Sam, one of his...what was that word?....caporegimes, that's right. You brushed aside the annoyance that those two, along with Clint and Natasha, were the only 2 employees that you knew who worked directly with him. Why didn't he trust you to meet more of his family? Why...no, STOP.

You didn't want to bother Natasha. She'd been on edge all night, clearly in on whatever the deal was, but needing to stay on the premises to keep up appearances. Gamora wasn't working tonight, and you had kept your distance from the others, afraid that you'd accidentally reveal your relationship with Bucky. There was no way in hell you'd ask Nebula to walk home with you- she managed to make you feel her icy sneer from all the way across the floor tonight after her set. Ugh. Fury needed to stay on the premises, Rhodey was still on mic for the next two hours, and little Sprite...well, you still weren't even sure how Sprite was old enough to work here, so that was out. You couldn't bring yourself to spend money on a cab or an Uber for 15 blocks. Besides, Bucky wouldn't be happy if you told him you got in a car with a driver that he hadn't personally selected. Screw it. You were walking. You needed the time to yourself, anyways.

You quietly slipped out the back, so as not to attract attention. You gripped your keys in one hand and your pepper spray in the other. You knew how to take care of yourself in this city. It was fine. You were fine.

You let your mind wander a bit as you walked, wondering what Bucky would think of your apartment when he actually saw it. Then as your mind started drifting to all the surfaces in your apartment that the two of you could christen, you heard a small scuffle. Instantly on alert, you felt the tension and heightened adrenaline flood your system. Chances were it was a mouse or a leaf, but you wouldn't take any chances. You let your ears do the listening. And they told you that there was someone walking along the street behind you, quite a bit away, but still there.

You forced yourself to take a deep breath. This was New York City. People walked everywhere. It wasn't like you had a claim on the sidewalk. You kept your pace the same and your posture neutral, getting a grip on the fear before it turned into something that it wasn't. You listened carefully as the footsteps didn't increase in speed, but they got closer. The person clearly had long legs and was taking longer strides than you.

"Hey sugar."

The voice from behind you scared you, calling out like that from a distance. You clenched your muscles, determined not to answer or show fear. You picked up your pace ever so slightly...and so did the footsteps.

You willed yourself to stay calm, taking a deep breath. And that's when you suddenly realized that you didn't hear anything behind you anymore.

Before you could stop to think about the wisdom of your actions, you whipped around. The street was empty. No one was there. Your wide eyes scanned the area, but you saw nothing save the garbage blowing in the wind, the small alley that you'd passed ten seconds ago, and the reflected glow of the neon signs propped up in a few windows. You took a step forwards before you realized how insane of an idea that was. You turned back around the direction you had been going and power walked the rest of the way home with no further incidents. It had probably been your overactive imagination- that guy could have been calling out to anyone, and he'd clearly found them. He wasn't pursuing you.

When you'd finally gotten to your apartment, locking and bolting the door behind you, you released a long, shaky sigh. You decided to hop into the shower, letting the heat and steam soothe your nerves. You convinced yourself more and more that you had overreacted as the hot water did its magic. As you dried off and put on a pair of cotton shorts and a teeshirt, it suddenly occurred to you that you should text Bucky and let him know you'd gotten home safely. You bit your lip, knowing that he'd be irritated that you walked home AND that you'd been fine, ultimately. He didn't need to know about your overactive imagination. A devious smile crossed your face. Maybe he'd punish you for your naughty behavior...

Just as you were picking up your phone to text him, a loud and sudden BANG in the hallway outside your apartment scared the shit out of you. "ANGEL!" a voice bellowed from the hallway, followed by three more earth-shaking thumps on your door. You knew that voice...and the sound of a metal hand pounding on wood.

Still catching the breath that had been knocked out of you, you rushed to the door, quickly unbolting and unlocking it before he broke it down. The second you twisted the knob, Bucky came barreling into the room, absolutely seething.

"Why the FUCK didn't you stay at the club?" he roared at you. His normally handsome features were twisted with rage. It scared you so badly, seeing him like this, that you were completely frozen in place. Bucky took that opportunity to get right into your personal space, placing his hands on either side of your face, gripping it so tightly it ached. "What the FUCK were you thinking?" he hissed, before kissing you with a fury that knocked the rest of the wind out of you. He kept his lips pressed so painfully to yours that you found yourself gripping at his wrists, trying to pull his hands away to give you some relief. He wasn't having it though. He kept your lips locked until he was damn well ready to release you, pouring his anger and fear and terror and frustrations into that kiss. He backed you up against a wall, keeping you pinned in place until he had to release to you to take a breath.

He leaned right down, his icy blue eyes locking on yours. "You ain't gonna be able to sit down for a WEEK after I'm through with you," he growled. He suddenly dropped his hands and pushed himself away from the wall, turning away from you and breathing heavily as he tried to get a hold of himself.

"And hi to you too," you said after you regained enough breath to speak, attempting a bit of levity to break the tension.

Wrong move.

Bucky whipped around so fast you almost missed it. "Don't you try getting cute on me now, it's not gonna save your ass," he hissed, before running his hands over his head, trying to dump the excessive furious energy he felt. "Do you have any idea what could have happened to you?"

Actually, yes you did, but that was definitely not going to calm him down. "Bucky, I'm fine," you said, adopting that soothing tone of voice that usually worked when he was angry. Hopefully it would work now. "I made it home just fine, just like I used to. It's okay."

"I TOLD you Clint was running late, why didn't you stay put?"

"You told me he was late three hours after he was supposed to show!"

"I text you the second I found out, ten minutes before the end of your shift."

"Well, it didn't pop up until three hours later. I don't know what happened. I was trying to wait, but I thought that you all had just gotten caught up in your meeting and you finally confirming that he was late was you saying that he wasn't actually coming."

"How the FUCK did you get to that conclusion?!"

"It was three hours after he was supposed to pick me up! What the hell else was I supposed to think?"

"You watch your tone, little girl. I'm pissed as hell and you don't wanna make this worse on yourself. I told you I couldn't handle knowing if you weren't safe. And then you pulled this stunt." He stepped back, gesturing to his entire self. "Well, here ya go. I can't handle it. And I'm not used to feeling like this. You've completely unhinged me all because you couldn't be bothered to keep yourself safe like I asked you to. And I'm furious and relieved and angry and scared and I can't figure out if I want to bend you over the edge of your bed to spank the shit out of you or lose myself in you because I am so goddamn relieved that you are okay." He finally spluttered to a halt, having lanced the boil of his feelings. That's when you noticed his blue eyes were wet.

Bucky never cried.

You stepped carefully to him, and when he didn't react angrily, you bolted into his arms, wrapping your arms around his waist and burying your face in his chest. "I'm so sorry, Bucky, I didn't mean to cause you that much worry. I really didn't, I swear. Please believe me."

His arms were already around you as he sighed heavily, squeezing you even tighter. "Yeah, yeah, I know," he said begrudgingly. You couldn't help but giggle at the pouting tone in his voice. "I do believe you, Angel. You're still in trouble, but I believe you."

"Thank you, Daddy."

"But for fuck's sake, can you please just stay put next time?" Bucky released his tight grip and leaned away to see your face. You were relieved to see the tiny twinkle in his eye. "No, fuck it. There won't be a next time. I'm not letting you out of my sight again. I'm having you surgically attached to me tomorrow."

"And I suppose I have no say in this?"

"None."

"Well, that's going to make my job interesting. How do you feel about stripping?"

"....you're going to need to find a new job."

"Okay, NOW you're going too far."

Bucky finally laughed, and the air released around you both as you snuggled into each other. He sighed again, but this time it was full of relief. "When I think of what could have happened to you on that street..."

The footsteps from the alley suddenly sounded in your ears, and the fear that you had felt came rushing back. You jerked back, looking him full in the face. "What do you mean?" you asked cautiously.

"What do you mean, what do I mean?" he asked, his eyebrows wrinkling. "It's New York City. It's late. You're walking out of an exotic dance hall. Anything could have happened to you."

"Yeah, but..." you trailed off.

His eyes narrowed. "But what?" he asked. You bit your lip. If you told him what happened, you wouldn't be surprised if he followed through on his threat to make you two conjoined twins while you were sleeping. And whereas you loved the heart behind his worries, you absolutely did not want to make him worry or get upset again. Besides, you had just been overreacting. Nothing had happened. You were fine. Just an overactive imagination.

"But nothing," you said. "I'm sorry I made you worry about my safety."

His eyes took on that feral glint that immediately sent shivers down your spine. "Sorry ain't gonna cut it, little girl," he growled with a wicked smile. He put his metal finger under your chin and tilted your head up. "I believe someone needs to be punished."

Chapter 14

#mob bucky barnes #mob bucky x reader #mob boss bucky x reader #mob bucky #mob boss bucky barnes #mafia bucky barnes #mafia!bucky #mafia bucky #mafia bucky barnes x reader #mafia bucky x reader #mob bucky barnes x reader

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promptthebear · 1 year ago

Note

Can u do #23 on the prompts for Frank🐰

Here you go!

Frank Castle x Reader- Selfcare

Prompt: Why can't I braid your hair?

CW: Written in 2nd person, reader is referred to as "you", GN!reader, reader has long hair but hair colour, body type etc are all left ambiguous. Mentions of guns and gun violence but nothing graphic. Reader has some negative self talk moments and low self esteem. Mild swearing. Frank uses petnames for the reader like baby, sweetheart, etc.

“God DAMMIT”

Frank set down his razor on the motel sink and turned to look at you over his shoulder. You were sitting a few feet away from him on the double bed, brush in hand. For the last forty five minutes you’d been struggling, and failing, to get your hair into a ponytail, and it seemed like the frustration was starting to get to you.

“You need help sweetheart?” he asked, even though he knew full well what the answer would be.

“I’m fine” you said, through gritted teeth “This is just…”

“Harder than it looks?”

“No” you shot back, pausing to blow a stray lock of hair from your eyes “I can manage”

Frank chuckled in spite of himself and shook his head. You glared back, your mouth set in a determined line. which Frank knew meant there was an argument coming. He loved your stubborn streak, but even he had to admit there was a very fine line between stubborn and foolish, and lately you’d been dancing on it for far too long.

“Babe-” he said, trying to keep his voice even so you didn’t think you were being made fun of “You got shot. If there was ever an excuse for needing help, you’ve got one.”

“I don’t need help!” you snapped back. You tried to cross your arms out of habit, only to hiss sharply through your teeth when you were met with a jolt of pain instead. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Frank wince, as though he was feeling your hurt as his own. The guilt you’d been trying so hard to ignore since that fateful night fell about your shoulders like a shroud. You turned away from Frank, and chose to focus instead on your reflection in the mirror that hung on the open closet door, across from the bed.

To put it simply, you looked like hell. You were wearing a pair of ratty sweats and a too big t-shirt Frank had grabbed from some church donation box. Your hair looked as though it hadn’t been properly brushed in a week, which wasn’t too far off from the truth, and you had dark circles around your eyes like you hadn’t slept for a month. You felt your eyes go instinctively to glare at the thick, white bandage wrapped around your bicep. It was blindingly clean, Frank made sure the bandages were changed daily, and made for a stark contrast against the rest of your outfit.

As far as gunshot wounds went, this one wasn’t the worst. It was a through and through, and according to that Claire lady, had missed the bone entirely. Better still, you hadn’t been hit in your dominant arm, not that it made a lot of difference. Your overall range of movement was severely limited while the shredded muscle healed, and you were quickly discovering there were some things you just couldn’t do without two hands. Like getting your hair out of your face.

“Maybe I should just cut it” you said, resigned. Hair would always grow back. Your dignity, however, was another matter entirely.

“Is that what you wanna do?” Frank asked. He’d left the bathroom to come over and sit next to you. The mattress dipped under his weight, which made you slide towards him and made your knee and shoulder bump against his. You wanted so badly to lean into the familiar warmth of his body and let yourself be taken care of, but…

Much to your disgust, you felt an unbidden tear slip down your cheek. You reached up quickly with your good hand to wipe it away, hoping Frank didn’t notice. Unfortunately luck wasn’t on your side today.

“Hey. Baby, what’s wrong?”

His voice was soft, his brown eyes filled with worry, and damn if that didn’t almost break your heart. You’d seen him walking around with his face beaten into hamburger meat and yet the second you got so much as a hangnail, he lost his damn mind.

“Is your arm hurting you? I can get you more pain meds. Or I can call Claire. Red gave me her number in case of emergencies”

He was clutching your good hand to his chest now, and you could feel the panicked flutter of his heartbeat against your palm. You made a half choked noise, which was meant to be a laugh but came out more like a hiccup or a sob. There was something funny about that, in a twisted sort of way. The big, bad Punisher, panicking.

“It’s not my arm” you said, turning your face away to stare at the wall. If you looked him in the eye again, there was no way you were going to be able to keep it together.

“Then what? I can’t help if you don’t talk to me”

The hand holding yours tightened its grip. You could feel Frank staring at you, most likely counting every tear drop and silently promising to bring Hellfire down on whoever was behind each one. Since he’d come into your life, he’d brought nothing but chaos. Before you met him over a year ago, you didn’t even know anyone who owned a gun. Now you knew several, including the people who decided to point those guns directly at you, and for that, Frank wasn’t sure he’d be able to forgive himself.

“You need to stop beating yourself up over me” you said, hating the way tears made you sound hoarse “It’s not your fault I can’t take care of myself.”

“Because you can’t put your hair up?” Frank asked, with a lopsided grin. When you didn’t immediately smile back, his expression turned serious. As he suspected, there was more to this than you not being able to do a ponytail on your own. “Honey. C’mon. Just lemme help you.”

“That’s just it!” you blurted “You are always helping me! You have so much shit on your plate already and I feel like all I do is pile more onto it. If I wasn’t so stupid and useless, then we wouldn’t be in this mess in the first place!”

Frank’s body jerked, as he was warding off a blow. You heard him inhale, sharp and quick, before you felt his arm drape across your shoulders. You tried to protest, but any attempts were quickly muffled as you were drawn against the flannel fabric of Frank’s shirt. He had pulled you close, practically into his lap, and was squeezing you as tightly as he could without hurting you.

At first, you resisted, keeping your body stiff and unwilling to lean into the embrace. However, the familiar smell of Frank’s aftershave and the faint, smoky scent of gunpowder that always seemed to cling to his skin had you surrendering all too quickly. You collapsed into his arms, allowing yourself to be cradled and coddled while a fresh round of sobs shook through you.

“Shhhh, it’s okay. I’m right here.”

You could feel Frank’s breath ghosting across the crown of your head, and one of his hands had come up to stroke your hair. He went slowly, being mindful not to tug on any mats or snarls as he ran his fingers over the tangled locks. It never ceased to surprise you how a man you’d watched tear into his enemies like a rabid dog also had the capacity to be so gentle with you. Frank made you feel a lot of things, but fear had never been one of them, not when he treated you like this.

“Sweetheart, look at me.”

You did as he asked, the last of your sobs leaving you with a series of shaky hiccups. The sounds echoed, high pitched in the otherwise silent room, which made you let out a halfhearted giggle. So much for your dignity.

Frank gave you another lopsided smile, the hand that was in your hair coming up to thumb away the few remaining tears on your cheeks. You resisted the urge to pepper that beautiful mouth of his with kisses, figuring for once he wouldn’t appreciate the interruption.

“You’re not a burden. Or stupid. Or useless, and I don’t ever wanna hear you saying that kind of shit about yourself ever again, okay?

“Okay,” you said, your voice strained from crying “But you’re always having to bail my ass out, and I just feel like your life would be easier if I could handle myself a little better, y’know? If I brought something else to the table.”

Frank laughed, and you felt it rumble in the hollow of his chest.

“You really think the world would be a better place if everyone was some kind of knuckle dragger who’s only skills are knocking heads like me? No way. We need more people like you baby. People who are kind, who remind others that the only difference between human beings and that other shit is how we treat each other. Then maybe all the idiots like me could retire.”

It was your turn to laugh, a warm, golden sound that made Frank’s whole face light up and his heart skip a beat. He could hear that sound every day for the rest of his life and never get sick of it.

“I guess a world full of Frank Castles would be…rough. But I think you could join the ordinary people like me, if you really wanted to.”

“Oh absolutely” Frank said, giving your cheek a gentle pinch “I can do the touchy-feely sunshine and rainbows bullshit. Make you breakfast, braid you hair.”

The last statement made you scrunch up your nose, which had Frank laughing again. Damn if you weren’t the cutest thing he’d ever seen.

“What’s that face for? Why can’t I braid your hair?”

“Well for starters,” you replied, easing off of Frank’s lap so you could retrieve the hairbrush from the bed “It’s in rough shape right now. You’d need a weed whacker to make any kind of progress. For another, there is no way Frank fricking Castle can braid hair.”

“Shows how much you know” Frank said, rising to stand. He dusted his palms against the sides of his jeans, before holding one out to you “Give it here.”

You eyed him warily from your spot on the bed, your gaze flitting nervously from his waiting hand to his eager expression. Something in your stomach, possibly the remnants of your common sense, flip flopped.

“Frank, I don’t know…”

“C’mon. I used to do this for Lisa all the time. Maria taught me how, so I could help out more after we had Frank Junior.”

At the mention of his family, your ears perked up a little. You’d known about them pretty much since day one, but Frank hardly said anything about them besides to tell you they were gone. It almost felt like by talking about them now, Frank was hoping you’d exchange a little vulnerability in return for his own.

“Fine.” you relented, finally handing him the brush “But we need a safe word or something. I’d rather not be snatched bald today.”

Frank’s grin could’ve lit up a whole city block. He sat down on the bed, spread his knees a little wider and jerked his chin towards the empty space between them on the floor.

“Have a seat, darling. We’ll have you fixed up in no time.”

For the next hour you sat snugly between Frank’s leg and true to his word, he knew what he was doing. You could feel him, working through each knot with the utmost precision, never once giving you a reason to cry out in pain.

After awhile, your eyes started to flutter close, the feeling of Frank’s fingers in your hair lulling you into a near doze. You’d been having a hard time sleeping lately, your arm made it difficult to get comfortable for too long and it seemed like whenever you were finally able to doze off, the nightmares would wake you right back up again. The men who’d shot you were nothing more than pink mist, Frank had made sure of that, but you could still hear the gunshot echoing every time you closed your eyes.

“Alright, whaddya think?”

It was Frank’s voice that woke you this time, not gunshots. You slowly opened your eyes, more than a little apprehensive about what would be waiting for you when you did. But when you caught sight of yourself in the closet mirror, you knew you shouldn’t have worried.

The matted, unruly mop that had previously hung around your ears had been tamed into a pair of tight, even dutch braids. It was all you could do to keep you jaw from dropping open. Even before you were injured, you couldn’t have done half as good a job.

“Holy shit.” you said, breathless

“That bad, huh?” Frank asked, bringing a hand up to scratch the back of his neck “Ah hell, I’m sorry baby. Maybe we should just go to that salon up the street and see what they can d-”

Frank’s next words were muffled as you leapt up and put your lips against his. He made a surprised nose in the back of his throat, bringing his hands to your waist so he could hold you up as you threw your good arm around his neck. You were clinging to him like your life depended on it, and while the feeling of your body, soft, warm and so very alive beneath his hands was reassuring, it wasn’t enough to erase the worried crease between his brows.

“Hey,” he said, tugging back slightly to break he kiss “Take it easy. You’re gonna pop your stitches if you keep carrying on like that.”

“It’ll be worth it” you replied, smiling against his neck “Thank you so much.”

“You’re welcome sweetheart. Anything for you.”

#easter askbox event #frank castle x reader #frank castle x you #frank castle #the punisher #frank castle imagine #frank castle fluff

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