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doctorbitchcrxft · 8 hours

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Everbody Loves a Clown | Supernatural Series Rewrite | Dean Winchester x Reader

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader (Eventual ? )

Word Count: 5956

Warnings: Canon violence, canon gore, coping with parental death, clowns lol

A/N: Special treat since the first episode was kinda short! Happy reading, everyone!

The only light in the middle of the clearing in the woods came from John’s wrapped, burning body. You stood wordlessly between Dean and Sam, watching as the pyre burned to ash. Dean stared silently while his brother fought tears.

It felt so odd to have spent so much time looking for John— a man you'd only met in passing during a hunt a little over a year ago— to now be standing in front of his burning corpse. It almost felt anticlimactic if you detached emotion completely from your situation.

On the very real and guttural side of things, though, you knew that having spent so little time with John after looking for him for almost a year was going to take a horrible toll on his boys, especially your Dean.

Sam spoke for the first time in hours. “Before he.. before... did he say anything to you? About anything?”

Dean refused to look at you or his brother, but said, “No. Nothing.”

An obvious lie.

***

Over a week after John’s funeral, you were watching Dean work on his car at Bobby’s. Bobby had been nice enough to let the three of you stay with him while Dean got the Impala back in working order.

Selfishly, every time you looked at Dean, you wanted to come right out with your feelings. Although, he was grieving, and you did not want to take advantage of his vulnerability. You wouldn't want your relationship to be born out of such a terrible tragedy.

However, you would continue to be there for him however he needed, even if that meant sitting next to him in the hot sun silently for hours and handing him a wrench every once in a while. You knew better than to ask if he was okay. You’d lost your father, too and knew he wouldn’t be okay for quite some time.

At first, he’d barely tolerated you sitting next to him. He fought you on everything you tried to do for him, but you got him to shut up after a few days. You knew he knew what you were playing at, and you could tell he appreciated it nonetheless.

Sam, on the other hand, wasn’t nearly as well-fortified against his emotions. You could hear him crying in the next room almost nightly, and it broke your heart. But you would rather Sam cry than build himself up against negative feelings the way his brother did. He was more into the touchy-feely-hug-it-out therapy style, and you were more than happy to give that to him. These boys needed you to be strong for them, and you would happily do so for as long as they needed.

“How's the car coming along?” Sam asked, approaching you and Dean, who was under his car. You sat next to where his boots stuck out with a tool box in your lap.

“Slow,” Dean responded.

“Yeah? Need any help?”

“What, you under a hood? I'll pass.”

“Need anything else, then?”

Dean rolled himself out from under the car and stood up above you. You looked between Dean’s face, set in hard lines, and his brother’s puppy-dog stare. “Stop it, Sam.”

“Stop what?” the younger brother asked innocently.

“Stop asking if I need anything, stop asking if I'm okay. I'm okay. Really. I promise,” Dean scoffed.

“Alright, Dean, it's just—” Sam took a deep breath. “We've been at Bobby's for over a week now, and you haven't brought up Dad once.”

“You know what? You're right. Come here. I'm gonna lay my head gently on your shoulder. Maybe we can cry, hug, and maybe even slow dance.” You knew the bite in Dean’s voice was all a mask.

“Don't patronize me, Dean,” Sam returned. “Dad is dead. The Colt is gone, and it seems pretty damn likely that the demon is behind all of this, and you're acting like nothing happened.”

“What do you want me to say?”

“Say something, all right? Hell, say anything! Aren't you angry? Don't you want revenge? But all you do is sit out here all day long buried underneath this damn car.”

“Sam, let it go—” you tried, but Dean continued to talk over you.

“Revenge, huh?” Dean chuckled humorlessly. “Sounds good. You got any leads on where the demon is? Making heads or tails of any of Dad's research? Because I sure ain't. But you know, if we do finally find it— oh. No, wait, like you said. The Colt's gone. But I'm sure you've figured out another way to kill it. We've got nothing, Sam. Nothing, okay? So you know the only thing I can do? Is I can work on the car.” He got back down under it.

“Well, we've got something, alright?” Sam crouched down next to you and handed you a cell phone. “It’s what I came out here to tell you. This is one of dad's old phones. Took me a while, but I cracked his voicemail code. Listen to this.”

Dean pushed himself out from under the car again and sat up next to you as you played the voicemail. “John, it's Ellen. Again. Look, don't be stubborn, you know I can help you. Call me.”

“That message is four months old,” Sam explained.

“Dad saved that chick's message for four months?” Dean raised an eyebrow.

Sam nodded.

“Who’s Ellen?” you asked. “Any mention of her in your dad’s journal?”

“No. But I ran a trace on her phone number, and I got an address.”

***

You and the boys ended up taking one of Bobby’s beat-up minivans to the Roadhouse Saloon; the address Ellen’s voicemail led to.

“This is humiliating. I feel like a fuckin’ soccer mom!” Dean groaned as he parked the car.

“It’s the only one Bobby had running, dude,” you reminded him. You followed the boys into the purposefully dilapidated-looking building.

“Hello? Anybody here?” Dean asked loudly. No response ever came. All you could hear was a fly buzzing and a light popping. You caught sight of a man passed out on the pool table facing away from you.

“Hey, buddy?” Sam said. He turned back to you and Dean. “I'm guessing that isn't Ellen.” He headed into a back room to look around. You walked a little ahead of Dean, only turning around when you heard him say. “Oh god, please let that be a rifle.”

You whipped out your gun and turned to see a pretty petite blonde holding a cocked rifle to Dean’s back. “No, I'm just real happy to see you. Don't move.”

“Hey!” you said. She looked to you, but didn’t move her gun from Dean’s back. “You shoot him, and you’re dead,” you told her.

“Well, he moves, and he’s dead,” she replied.

“Ladies, Ladies, please,” Dean smirked. “You know, you should know something, miss. When you put a rifle on someone, you don't want to put it right against their back. Because it makes it real easy to do…” He turned around fluidly and grabbed the rifle. “That.”

The blonde punched him square in the nose and took back the rifle. You cocked your pistol, catching her attention.

“Sam! A little help, please!” Dean said.

“Sorry, Dean, I can't right now. I'm a... little tied up.” Sam walked out with his hands on his head and a shotgun pointed at the back of him. An older woman walked out holding it. “Sam? Dean? Winchester?” she said.

“Yeah…?” Dean said.

“Son of a bitch,” the woman muttered.

The blonde spoke up next. “Mom, you know these guys?”

“Yeah, I think these are John Winchester's boys,” she answered, lowering the gun and laughing. “Hey, I'm Ellen. This is my daughter Jo.”

Jo lowered her rifle as well. “Hey,” she smiled.

“Oh, we’re just supposed to be cool now?” you remarked, still pointing your gun at the blonde.

“(Y/N), cool it,” Dean warned. You did as told and slowly lowered your gun, still stand-offish.

“You're not gonna hit me again, are you?” Dean asked Jo.

Ellen handed him a small towel filled with ice.

“Thanks. You called our dad, said you could help. Help with what?” he asked as he took it from her.

“Well, the demon, of course,” she stated as if it was obvious. “I heard he was closing in on it.”

“What, was there an article in the Demon Hunters Quarterly that I missed?” Dean snarked. “I mean, who- who are you? How do you know about all this?”

The brunette scoffed. “Hey, I just run a saloon. But hunters have been known to pass through now and again. Including your dad a long time ago. John was like family once.”

“Oh yeah? How come he never mentioned you before?”

She looked down and softened her voice. “You'd have to ask him that.”

“So why exactly do we need your help?” Dean questioned.

Now you wanted Dean to cool it. “Relax, man,” you warned.

“Hey, don't do me any favors. Look, if you don't want my help, fine. Don't let the door smack your ass on the way out. But John wouldn't have sent you if—” Ellen stopped suddenly. “He didn't send you.” She looked frantically between Dean and Sam. “He's all right, isn't he?”

Dean refused to look at her, but Sam answered instead. “No. No, he isn't. It was the demon, we think. It, um, it just got him before he got it, I guess.”

Ellen looked sad. “I’m so sorry.”

“It's okay. We're all right,” Dean replied.

“Really? I know how close you and your dad were.”

“Really, lady, I'm fine,” he growled.

“Dean, relax,” you urged him quietly.

Sam continued the conversation with Ellen. “So look, if you can help, we could use all the help we can get.”

“Well, we can't. But Ash will,” she smirked.

“Who's Ash?” you asked.

“Ash!” she called.

You turned to the man on the pool table as he jerked up and flailed up. “What? It closin' time?”

Sam snorted. “That’s Ash?”

Jo hummed. “Mm-hmm. He's a genius.”

You looked at her, skeptical.

“Sit, please,” Ellen said, and she and her daughter moved around the bar opposite you while you slapped a folder down in front of Ash. He sat across the bar from you.

“You've gotta be kidding me, this guy's no genius. He's a Lynyrd Skynyrd roadie,” Dean remarked.

Ash grinned drunkenly. “I like you.”

“Thanks,” the older brother smiled, seeming slightly confused by the drunk.

“Just give him a chance,” Jo urged.

You opened the folder and pushed it toward Ash. “That’s about a year’s worth of John’s work. See if you can make heads or tails of it.”

Ash shook his head as he looked through the papers. “Come on. This crap ain't real. There ain't nobody can track a demon like this.”

“Our dad could,” said Sam.

“There are non-parametrics, statistical overviews, prospects and correlations, I mean, damn!” Ash’s cadence made you giggle. “They're signs. Omens. Uh, if you can track 'em, you can track this demon. You know, like crop failures, electrical storms— You ever been struck by lightning? It ain't fun.”

“Can you track it or not?” Sam asked.

“Yeah, with this, I think so. But it's gonna take time, uh, give me—” he thought for a moment— “fifty-one hours.” He got up to leave, but Dean stopped him.

“I, uh, I dig the haircut.”

He waved his hair around dramatically. “All business up front, party in the back.”

Jo walked around Dean, flirting a little. You could’ve killed her.

He offered Jo a polite smile, but you apparently were not doing a good job of hiding your jealousy.

“Easy, tiger,” Dean chuckled, shooting you a smirk.

You could practically feel Jo checking Dean out.

“She’s looking at you like a hunk of meat,” you replied, talking through your teeth.

“What, you mean, like you do?” he replied, smirking.

“I do not!” You paused at his deadpan look. “I mean, sometimes, maybe, quite possibly, but not right now.”

He nodded. “And you know, I, uh, I appreciate that.”

“Do you really? Sounded like you had a gun to your head when you said that,” you giggled.

He looked back at you sincerely. “You know I do.”

"I do just have... one question, though," you said, unable to stop the words coming out of your mouth due to the sudden, subtle flirting coming from Dean.

He nodded for you to continue.

"I'm assuming you pieced together what I was gonna tell you back at the hospital," you trailed off.

Dean nodded again, the ends of his lips tugging upward.

"You're not... freaked out?"

He shook his head, still smiling. "Opposite of freaked out."

You could feel your cheeks heating, and you looked down at the bar in front of you. Dean's chuckle was music to your ears despite the way it spurred on your embarrassment.

Then, Sam approached you and Dean. “A few murders, not far from here, that Ellen caught wind of. Looks to me like there might be a hunt.”

“Yeah. So?” Dean asked.

“So, I told her we'd check it out.”

***

Dean continued to grumble about the “stupid minivan” the whole way to your next hunt. Sam did research as you scribbled in your journal. Helping the boys was a task you wouldn't give up for anything, but it was beginning to bring up some negative emotions and memories for you. Journaling was helping to calm the storm inside you.

“You've gotta be kidding me. A killer clown?” Dean scoffed.

“Yeah. He left the daughter unharmed and killed the parents. Ripped them to pieces, actually,” Sam responded.

“And this family was at some carnival that night?”

“Right, right. The, uh, Cooper Carnivals.”

“So, how do we know it’s not some psycho in a clown suit?” you piped up.

“Well, the cops have no viable leads, and all the employees were tearing down shop. Alibis all around. Plus this girl said she saw a clown vanish into thin air. Cops are saying trauma, of course,” Sam explained.

“Well, I know what you're thinking, Sam. Why did it have to be clowns?” Dean mocked.

“Oh, give me a break,” the brunet muttered.

You smiled but refused to make fun of him, because “everyone is afraid of something.”

“You’re scared of clowns?” you asked.

“Yeah, he still busts out crying whenever he sees Ronald McDonald on the television,” Dean told you.

“Well, at least I'm not afraid of flying,” Sam deadpanned.

“Planes crash!”

“And apparently clowns kill!”

"Boys—!"

“Yeah, you’re right,” Dean mumbled. “So these types of murders, they ever happen before?”

“Uh, according to the file, 1981, the Bunker Brothers Circus, same M.O. It happened three times, three different locales,” the younger Winchester explained.

“It’s weird, though, spirits are usually bound to specific locales, y’know,” you said. “So how's this one moving from city to city, carnival to carnival?”

“Cursed object, maybe,” Dean suggested. “Spirit attaches itself to something and the, uh, carnival carries it around with them.”

“Great. Paranormal scavenger hunt.” You crossed your arms over your chest.

“Well, blame Sam. It was his idea. By the way, why is that? You were awfully quick to jump on this job.” Dean threw a look to his brother.

“So?”

“It's just… not like you, that's all. I thought you were hell-bent for leather on the demon hunt.”

You eyed Sam strangely, too.

The younger Winchester softened. “I don't know, I just think, this job, it's what Dad would have wanted us to do.”

“What Dad would have wanted?” Dean turned his face to Sam.

“Yeah. So?” Sam challenged.

“Nothin'.”

***

You and the boys decided to join the carnival after the second family had been murdered to get a closer look at the happenings during the carnival. “Friends close, freak-shows closer,” Dean had said.

When you entered yet another tent in search of the show’s organizer. You found a man throwing knives at a target; all landing near but not quite on the bulls-eye.

“Excuse me, we're looking for a Mr. Cooper; have you seen him around?” the older brother asked.

The man turned around and pulled off his sunglasses. “What is that, some kind of joke?”

“Oh. God, I'm— I'm sorry,” Dean said.

“You think I wouldn't give my teeth to see Mr. Cooper? Or a sunset, or anything at all?”

Dean whispered to you, “Wanna give me a little help here?”

You shook your head. “Not really.”

“Hey man, is there a problem?” a voice interrogated from behind you. You turned to see a very short man in a red cape.

“Yeah, this guy hates blind people,” the knife-thrower said.

“No, I don't, I—” Dean’s gorgeous smile was doing nothing to help him in this situation.

“Hey, buddy, what's your problem?” the short man scowled.

“Nothing, it's just a little misunderstanding.”

“Little?! You son of a bitch!” The man went to charge Dean.

“No, no, no, no! I'm just— could somebody tell me where Mr. Cooper is?”

You and Sam snickered.

“Please?” you asked.

The short man looked up at you, and his gaze softened. “Sure, sweetheart, follow me.”

“Thanks,” you smiled, looking back at the boys.

Dean’s jaw was clenched for a reason you weren’t quite sure of. When you asked, he said, “Just don’t like anybody else callin’ you that.”

You smiled lopsidedly. He could be really sweet when he wanted to be.

Mr. Cooper met you at the door of his office and invited you in. “You three picked a hell of a time to join up. Take a seat.”

You looked at the available seating options, and Dean motioned for you to take the normal of the two chairs. You obliged, and Dean stood behind you, forcing Sam to sit in the obnoxious pink chair with a giant clown face on it. He sat on the chair hesitantly and refused to relax into it.

“We've got all kinds of local trouble,” Mr. Cooper continued.

“What do you mean?” you asked.

“Oh, a couple of folks got themselves murdered. Cops always seem to start here first. So, you three ever worked the circuit before?”

“Yes, sir, last year through Texas and Arkansas,” Sam responded.

“Doing what? Ride jockeys? Butcher? ANS men?”

“Yeah, it's, uh, little bit of everything, I guess.”

Mr. Cooper eyed your group strangely. “You three have never worked a show in your lives before, have you?”

“Nope,” Dean grinned. “But we really need the work. Oh, and uh, Sam here's got a thing for the bearded lady.”

“You see that picture? That's my daddy.” The showrunner pointed to a black and white picture on the wall of a man in a fedora in front of a ferris wheel.

“You guys could be twins,” you pointed out.

Mr. Cooper smiled thoughtfully. “He was in the business. Ran a freakshow. Till they outlawed them, most places. Apparently displaying the deformed isn't dignified. So most of the performers went from honest work to rotting in hospitals and asylums. That's progress, I guess. You see, this place, it's a refuge for outcasts. Always has been. For folks that don't fit in nowhere else.

"But you three? You should go to school. Find a couple of girls. Marry this one, maybe.” The man gestured to you. “Have two point five kids. Live regular.”

Dean went to say something, but Sam leaned forward, his eyes serious. “Sir? We don't want to go to school. And we don't want regular. We want this.”

You turned to him skeptically, as did Dean.

Mr. Cooper told the three of you to return in a few hours for training, which you were a little surprised by the suddenness of.

“I guess they really are desperate,” you said as the three of you left the carnival holding your uniforms to go change into.

“Were you serious?” Dean asked his brother.

“What?” Sam furrowed his brows at him.

“That whole, uh, I-don't-want-to-go-back-to-school thing. Were you just saying that to Cooper or were you, you know, saying it?” Dean pressed further at his younger brother’s hesitance. “Sam?”

“I don't know,” he replied.

“You don't know? I thought that once the demon was dead, and the fat lady sings ,that you were gonna take off, head back to Wussy State,” Dean deadpanned.

“I'm having second thoughts,” was all the younger brother answered with.

“Really?”

“Yeah. I think. Dad would have wanted me to stick with the job.”

Dean stopped Sam. “Since when do you give a damn what Dad wanted? You spent half your life doing exactly what he didn't want, Sam.”

“Since he died, okay? Do you have a problem with that?”

Dean’s voice hardened but remained sarcastic. “Naw, I don't have a problem at all.”

***

Later that day, you returned with the boys wearing a bright red “Cooper Carnival” jacket to begin your “janitorial job.” You were waiting for Sam or Dean to call you to tell you when to meet up with them for further investigation.

Before you had gotten a call from either, you noticed a little girl tugging on her mother’s jacket. “Mommy, look at the clown!” She pointed at something off in the distance.

You followed her line of sight only to see nothing.

“What clown?” the mother asked. “Come on, sweetie, come on.”

You called Sam immediately. “Hey, dude. I got something.”

***

The three of you then chose to stake out the family’s home that evening. Dean had just relayed to you how the blind man overheard him calling Sam about the case and had to tell him you three were writing a book about the supernatural.

“Dean, I cannot believe you told Papazian about the homicidal phantom clown,” Sam snorted.

“I told him an urban legend about a homicidal phantom clown. I never said it was real,” Dean argued. He pulled a gun and cocked it. You jumped over the seat and shoved his arm down. “What are you, nuts? You’re gonna get us busted.”

“Oh, and get this,” Dean continued. “I mentioned the Bunker Brother's Circus in '81 and their, uh, evil clown apocalypse? Guess what.”

“What?” you and Sam asked.

“Before Mr. Cooper owned Cooper Carnival, he worked for Bunker Brothers. He was their lot manager.”

“So you think whatever the spirit's attached to, Cooper just brought it with him?” Sam questioned.

“Something like that.” The older brother shook his head and sighed. “I can't believe we keep talking about clowns.”

***

You and the Winchesters had been stalking these poor people’s home for hours now. Well, you and Sam had, at least. Dean, on the other hand, was dozing in the front seat. You shook him awake when you saw a phantom clown appear at the front door.

“Dee, look,” you said.

He hummed and sat up, scrubbing a hand over his eyes. He turned and looked at you when he saw the girl leading the clown inside.

You jumped out of the car and went through the back entrance of the house. You hid around a corner down the hallway from where the little girl and the clown were.

“Wanna see Mommy and Daddy? They're upstairs,” you heard the girl say. At that moment, Sam leapt out and grabbed the young girl who screamed.

Simultaneously, you shot at the clown while Dean cocked his shotgun again. “Sam, watch out!” he yelled.

The clown leapt out the window, turning invisible as it shattered the glass of the front door.

The parents ran downstairs and began shouting at you and the brothers. You and the brothers dropped the girl and sprinted away, hearing the girl whine, “ Mommy, Daddy, they shot my clown!” as you headed out.

***

A while later, you and the brothers pulled off the side of the road and ditched the crappy van Dean had been driving you around in. You pulled the license plate off the back of the van and stuffed it in your duffel bag.

“You really think they saw our plates?” Sam asked you.

“I’m not taking any chances,” you said.

“I hate this fuckin’ thing anyway,” Dean grumbled. He began to lead you and his brother off the side of the road. “Well, one thing's for sure.”

“What?” you asked.

“We're not dealing with a spirit. I mean, that rock salt hit something solid,” Dean responded.

“Yeah, a person? Or maybe a creature that can make itself invisible?” Sam suggested.

“I don’t know, man, I’ve never heard of a creature like that. And it’s definitely not a person. I have no idea what the hell it could be,” you huffed.

“Did it say anything in Dad's journal?” Dean asked.

Sam cleared his throat and said, “Nope,” pulling out his cell phone.

“Who are you calling?” you asked him.

“Maybe Ellen or that guy Ash'll know something. Hey, you think, uh, you think Dad and Ellen ever had a thing?” Sam smirked.

“No way,” snorted Dean.

“Then why didn't he tell us about her?” retorted Sam.

“I don't know, maybe they had some sort of falling out,” the older brother shrugged.

“Yeah. You ever notice Dad had a falling out with just about everybody?”

You chuckled, but Dean simply nodded and looked at the floor.

Sam lowered his phone. “Well, don't get all maudlin on me, man.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean this ‘strong silent’ thing of yours, it's crap,” Sam answered.

Dean rolled his eyes. “Oh, god.”

“I'm over it. This isn't just anyone we're talking about, this is Dad. I know how you felt about the man.”

Dean started walking a little faster. “You know what, back off, alright? Just because I'm not caring and sharing like you want me to.”

Sam caught up with his brother easily. “No, no, no, that's not what this is about, Dean. I don't care how you deal with this. But you have to deal with it, man. Listen, I'm your brother, all right? I just want to make sure you're okay.”

“Dude, I'm okay. I'm okay, okay? I swear, the next person who asks me if I'm okay, I'm gonna start throwing punches. These are your issues, quit dumping them on me!” the older Winchester said gruffly.

“What are you talking about?” Sam questioned.

“I just think it's really interesting, this sudden obedience you have to Dad. It's like, oh, what would Dad want me to do? Sam, you spent your entire life slugging it out with that man. I mean, hell, you, you picked a fight with him the last time you ever saw him. And now that he's dead, now you want to make it right? Well, I'm sorry Sam, but you can't, it's too little, too late.”

“Why are you saying this to me?”

“Because I want you to be honest with yourself about this. I'm dealing with Dad's death! Are you?”

You looked between the boys and knew Dean was handing Sam a load of bullshit. However, you decided to stow that conversation until you could get him in private.

Sam swallowed harshly, looking upset. “I'm going to call Ellen.” Sam walked a little ahead of you and Dean on the phone.

While Sam spoke to Ellen, you walked beside Dean wordlessly.

“(Y/N), you don’t have to act like I’m a bomb about to go off,” Dean said.

You looked up at him. “I’m not. I just thought you’d appreciate a little silence instead of me asking you to ‘share and care,’ as you put it.”

He nodded. “Thanks.” He intertwined his fingers with yours, allowing you to support him in that simple way. He rubbed his thumb over yours and continued to walk next to you.

When Sam got off the phone, he turned back to you and his brother. “Wha—” He looked down at yours and Dean’s entwined hands and shook his head. “Nevermind. Rakshasa.”

“What's that?” Dean asked.

“Ellen's best guess. It's a race of ancient Hindu creatures. They appear in human form, they feed on human flesh, they can make themselves invisible, and they cannot enter a home without first being invited,” Sam explained.

“So they dress up like clowns, and the children invite 'em in. Why don't they just munch on the kids?”

“No idea. Not enough meat on the bones, maybe?”

“Well, that’s grotesque,” you noted.

“What else'd you find out?” Dean questioned.

“Well, apparently, Rakshasas live in squalor. They sleep on a bed of dead insects.” The younger brother grimaced.

“Nice,” you deadpanned.

“Yeah, and they have to feed a few times every twenty or thirty years. Slow metabolism, I guess.”

“Well, that makes sense. I mean, the Carnival today, the Bunker Brothers in '81—”

Sam cut his brother off. “Right. Probably more before that.”

“Who do we know that worked both shows?” You raised a brow.

“Cooper?” Sam replied.

“Yup.” You thought for a moment. “That picture of his father looked just like him. Maybe it was him.”

“Well, who knows how old he is?” Sam added.

“Ellen say how to kill him?” Dean asked.

“Legend goes, a dagger made of pure brass,” the brunet explained.

“I think I know where to get one of those.”

“Whoa, whoa,” you said. “Before we go stabbing Cooper, I wanna make damn sure it’s him.”

“Oh, you're such a stickler for details, sweetheart,” the older Winchester teased you. “Alright, I'll round up the blade, you two go check if Cooper's got bed bugs.”

***

You and Sam followed instructions and went to Mr. Cooper’s trailer. Dean had left the two of you to go find the blind man. Inside the trailer, you didn’t find any bugs he was nesting on. Just a plain, old twin mattress.

“What the hell are you doing in here?” a voice called from behind you.

You wheeled around to see Mr. Cooper. “Oh, hi! Just the guy I wanted to—”

“Save it,” Mr. Cooper told you. “Get the hell out of here. Oh, and uh, you’re fired.”

You nodded. “I figured.”

You and Sam dashed out of Mr. Cooper’s trailer and over to where Dean had told you he’d be. When you arrived at the blind man’s tent, Dean stumbled out of the door.

“Holy shit, hey,” you said after he’d scared you.

“Hey.”

“So, Cooper thinks we’re Peeping Toms, but it's not him,” Sam explained.

“Yeah, so I gathered. It's the blind guy. He's here somewhere.”

“Well, did you get the—”

“The brass blades? No. No, it's just been one of those days,” Dean sarcastically replied.

“I got an idea. Come on,” Sam said. You and Dean followed him to the funhouse. As you began to go through, the door slammed behind you between you and the brothers.

“Great!” you groaned.

“(Y/N)!” Dean yelled, banging on the door.

“(Y/N)! (Y/N/N), find the maze, okay?” Sam called to you.

“Okay!” you called back. You somehow stumbled your way through the maze and found the brothers. “Oh, thank god,” you sighed.

Sam broke a pipe off the organ a bit ahead of you.

“Where is it?” you asked.

“I don't know, I mean, shouldn't we see its clothes walking around?” Dean answered. A knife flew right past your head, clipping your ear. “Fuck!”

“(Y/N)!” Sam called. “Where is it?”

“I don’t know, Sam, the thing’s invisible!” You jumped up, reached above your head, and grabbed a lever. When you pulled it down, steam poured out of the vent.

“Sam, behind you! Behind you!” you heard Dean say. You began to run in the direction of Dean’s voice through the steam. When you arrived at him, there was a bloodied lump of clothes on the ground with a pipe sticking out from its chest. You turned to Dean who was pinned to the wall by two knives on his arm and helped him free himself.

“You okay?” he asked you.

You nodded as you pulled the last knife out of his jacket.

“I hate funhouses,” he grumbled.

***

You sat next to Dean at Ellen’s bar, and she laid a few beers in front of you. “You kids did a hell of a job.” Ellen nodded at the brothers. “Your dad 'd be proud.”

Sam half-smiled. “Thanks.” He got up to walk over to Ash, and Jo took his place.

“So,” she cleared her throat.

‘Damn, this girl is bold,’ you thought.

“So,” you said.

She ignored you and focused on Dean. “Am I gonna see you again?”

Dean turned to her, surprised. “Do you want to?”

“I wouldn't hate it.”

You rolled your eyes and got up from your chair, heading over to Sam and Ash. You could feel Dean’s eyes on you as you walked away. You knew you had no reason to treat Jo poorly; she was just a young girl with a crush. She had no idea that you and Dean were at all involved. You truly didn’t even know if you and Dean were legitimately involved to begin with.

You noted Ash’s bizarre-looking laptop with exposed wiring and his stack of papers. “Whatcha got there, Pinky?”

He snorted at you. “I’d say I’m a little more Brain than anything, but where ya been? Been waitin’ for ya.”

“What, Ellen didn’t tell you about the clowns?” you asked.

“Clowns? What the fuck—”

You snickered as Dean walked up behind you. “You got something for us, Ash?”

“You find the demon?” Sam questioned.

Ash shook his head. “It's nowhere around. At least, nowhere I can find. But if this fugly bastard raises his head, I'll know. I mean, I'm on it like Divine on dog dookie.”

You laughed. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, any of those signs or omens appear, anywhere in the world, my rig'll go off. Like a fire alarm.”

Dean reached for his laptop. “Do you mind…?”

Ash gave him a look, and Dean pulled his hand back from the keyboard.

You smirked a little at the sight. “Ash, where did you learn to do all this?”

“M.I.T. Before I got bounced for... fighting.”

“No way!” you exclaimed.

He smirked at you and took a sip of his beer.

“Okay. Give us a call as soon as you know something?” Dean said, suggesting to you and Sam it was time to go.

“Si, si, compadre.” Ash took the beer Dean had placed down and chugged the rest of it.

You followed the brothers to the door. Ellen stopped you before you could leave. “Hey, listen— if you kids need a place to stay I've got a couple beds out back.”

“Thanks, but no. There's something I gotta finish,” Dean said.

***

“So, you get Jo’s number?” you asked back at Bobby’s junkyard. You sat cross-legged on the hood of one of the cars next to the Impala Dean was working on drinking a beer.

“What?” he asked incredulously. “Why would you think that?”

“Well, she obviously likes you. Kid was shamelessly flirting with you, so I just assumed—”

“No, (Y/N).” He put down the wrench he was holding. “I wouldn’t do that.”

“Well, okay, I just thought—”

He walked over to you and stood between your knees. He ran his hands up and down your thighs. “I’m telling you, I wouldn’t do that.”

“Dean, stop it. You don’t have to come over here and flirt with me just ‘cause I got jealous” you said.

“I’m not,” he assured you. “Look, we haven’t had a chance to talk about everything—”

“And I don’t need us to. I know you need time after your dad—”

“Would you let me finish?”

“Yeah, sorry,” you muttered.

“But I have no interest in Jo. She’s layin’ it on a little too thick for my taste,” he smirked.

"I don't know, Dean, your bar hookups always lay it on pretty thick," you reminded him.

"Yeah, guess you're right. But she's not you. So I'm not interested."

You rolled your eyes playfully. “Okay, well, I’m gonna go get some more beer. You want one?”

He nodded. “Yeah, sure.”

You headed back inside and passed Sam on the way. You found Bobby inside and began to update him on the situation with the brothers.

“I don’t know, Bobby, neither of them are doing well,” you said. “But it’s Dean I’m the most worried about.”

“Why’s that?” the older man asked.

“He’s just… bottling it up. He wouldn’t even let me sit next to him while he worked on his car for the first week we were here. He’s worrying me.”

“Sounds like Dean,” Bobby nodded. “But I think if anybody can get ‘im to open up, it’s gonna be you.”

You eyed him strangely. “What makes you say that?”

“He’s just… different with you. I think he puts up a bit of a front with Sam. But never with you.”

You nodded. “I’ll keep trying.” You grabbed two beers and again passed Sam as he came back into the house with tears in his eyes. As you approached Dean’s car, you heard slamming metal on metal and Dean grunting. You quickened your step to get to him, holding a beer in each hand. When you arrived, you saw him hitting the Impala’s trunk with a crowbar over and over again.

“Dean, what the f—”

He looked up at you and fought back tears. You put the beers on the car behind you and slowly approached him. You opened your arms to him and wrapped them around his torso, and he finally responded by burying his face in your hair. You could feel him still trying to stifle his tears, but it was clear he was unsuccessful. You let him hug you for as long as he needed to.

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

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

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poppy-metal · 3 hours

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the thought of patrick riding ur face after practice is gonna make me FAINT.

he literally would shove ur face into his musky scent until it’s all ur able to smell for hours

he’s so gross but he loves gross sex

my head goes dizzy thinking about it like he could shower but he comes to visit you and you grab his wrist as he starts towards your bathroom with that big eyed look and he grins - "what?" when you pull him to you "you want a kiss, what? hm?" knowing full well what you want, but wanting you to say it.

presses it even further by saying "m'all sweaty i should shower - you dont want me too? I'm really fucking swamped today, practice was hell." and you whine, you hate him you hate him because him talking about how gross he is just makes your mouth water. hes the one who turned you into a freak, why is he making you spell it out?

"patrick please - just -" you tug on the band of his nylon shorts. his skin is slick with sweat. his pubes peeking from the fabric, dark and curled with the humidity of being contained all day. "let me...."

"let you......?" but he lets you pull his shorts down. bites his bottom lip when his aching cock bounces free, fat and filling with blood. he's so clammy between his legs his balls are sticking to one thigh. "fuck, that feels good. been crammed in there all day - shit needs to air out."

you lower to your knees - back pressed against your bed. head craning up to look at him with submissive eyes that make him groan. he reaches down to grip himself. he's damp with sweat, his cock slick in his hand. he can feel how moist he is everywhere - wet with perspiration that's turned into a heady damp musk. he can smell it wafting from his crotch to where he stands, knows the smell will be hitting your nose soon enough and he really should shower, scrub his dick and balls and ass raw till hes squeaky clean and fresh for you. but you dont want that. he can see by the way you're nearly fucking drooling at the sight of him, clenching your thighs and waiting so patiently. you still haven't asked though.

he gives himself one long stroke.

"let me use your shower." he says. "then i can feed you this dick."

your bottom lip juts out. you shake your head. patrick bites his lip to hide a smile, pumps himself another time, squeezes his ripe head. "no?"

"please," your voice is small, whipser thin. you look near tears with embarrassment. you're so fucking hot. "i dont want you to shower. i want.... i want you like this i want.... i w- wanna put my face in it -"

his cock throbs in his hand. he's so hot he's almost a fucking furnace. he reaches down to squeeze his aching sack, "oh?" he groans, "fuck, that's disgusting, baby, you know how fucking rank sweaty dick is?" he licks his lips. "nah, but you're a slut, huh. bet you fucking want me to ride your face, make you gag on my dirty nuts."

you're nodding, whining as you reach up to pinch your own nipples, horny little minx that you are. "gonna give it to you, then." he grunts, approaching you till hes nearly standing over you. he spreads his legs wide enough that your body fits directly under him. from your view, you have a direct line of sight between his legs, all you can see is the underside of his thick veiny cock, his heavy drooping sack and the tangle of hair below it that trails between his asscheeks. your cunt leaks and you press the heel of your palm into it. "don't fucking beg for air when you asked for this -" and he squats down, bracing his hand against your bed to balance himself as he lowers himself against your face.

he doesn't spend time working you up to it, you'd done this plenty of times, you have a few seconds to gulp in air, breathe in the heady musk of his sweat, eyes stinging at how potent and ripe it is - and then his fuzzy sack is pressing against your face. his balls are so massive - full and plump - that they completely cover your nose and mouth, squishing against you as patrick basically uses your face as a chair. the weight makes your neck strain and you know hes holding a little bit of himself off you so you dont die but it still makes your muscles burn and ache with the strain. and that makes you fucking moan. your lips parting under the soft furry skin of his balls to tongue them.

patrick groans above you. looks down, but he cant really see you, so he reaches down to grip his hard cock which had been resting on your forehead. holds himself up so he can see you a little better, and "shit. " his balls twitch in your greedy mouth, one of the fat stones slipping fully into the open wet hole to be sucked. "give me those eyes. let me see you when you tongue bathe my fucking balls."

your eyes flutter up to meet his, though you cant really see with the water in your eyes, the tears slipping down your temples. one of his fingers rubs the salty tears away for you, rocking his hips against your face so his sack glides back and forth along your lips and tongue and nose. his other hand strokes himself lazily. he doubts it'll take him long to nut, with you breathing into his balls like that, gasping for air and finding none, just more of his sweaty flesh to invade your senses.

"you're so dirty - my dirty beautiful girl." god it feels so fucking good. he lets spit drip from his lips, lubes his dick with it and starts with the quick fast pumps. ones that have his nuts bouncing lightly against you. "lick me fucking clean - c'mon. - wanna feel that tongue."

you whine and the sound reverberates against his sack. your tongue comes out and you're licking greedily across the velvelty skin of him, rolling his balls against your muscle. when he lifts them a little you allow your tongue to dip lower, tonguing his taint and then his inner tighs. you suction your mouth and suck, feel his sweat pool in your mouth and you swallow it. you're so hungry for it. diving back into his fatty potent flesh and drooling around him, swishing him around on your tongue like mouthwash and patricks eyes nearly fucking roll out of his skull.

he pulls back - just to angle his cock down to your swelling pouting mouth, already open and pink inside. his tip is fucking throbbing and leaking steadily, flushed an angry viseral red that needs tending to.

"give me that mouth - oh yeah - that's it -" you take him so well. his rigid length slides in easy over your gyrating tongue - cramming himself down your throat with one languid thrust. "takes me just like that little pussy does - oh god. you're gonna make me cum -"

he slumps over you, your head trapped between his hips and the bed, neck extended as he humps down your throat with little to no consideration for your airway. your hands grip his slick hairy thighs. "open that fucking throat f'r me -" and you do. feel him punch at the very back of your esophagus, reaming you. your hand wildly flies to your own throat, petting at the skin. god, you can feel where hes extending the delicate skin there. you gargle around him, muscles spasming around his meat and he grunts - thrusts faster. his balls dancing on your chin tighten and pull close to his body. "fuck, you fucking gag on that shit - love it when you struggle on my cock - yeah. yeah, shit - fuck im coming - "

thick ropes of it plunge down your throat with his thrusts, pushing it down your stomach, leaving you no choice but to swallow the sour fluid. your eyes waters. your nose runs with snot. your mouth is drooling spit where its split obscenely wide around the cock filling it.

patrick rocks a few more times before he's slowly pulling free - a string of saliva connecting from his flagging tip to your lips. abused and puffy from a thorough face fuck. you gasp and pull in breaths, tears free streaming down your cheeks as you pant and heave.

you're so turned on your hands flutter over your cunt but you cant properly touch yourself, your brain is too fuzzy, you're too cockdrunk to think soundly. you're just throbbing throbbing throbbing. so fucking empty it actually hurts.

patricks hands go under your armpits, picking you up as easy as a limp ragdoll. he lets you flop back onto your bed and you're reaching for him, and hes coming down on you and his tongue is in your mouth sucking the rest of the spit there into his own and then he leans up. lets all that drool and saliva drip down onto his still hard dick - "nod if you're still with me," he pants, because sometimes when you get like this, you need to be cuddled and brought back to earth, not more sex, but you're rocking under him eagerly, legs spreading, the wet slit of your pussy swelled up with greed and your hole a wet sheath begging to be filled. you nod. "good, good. god, i need to fuck this pussy -"

he grips himself and guides himself in, in, in. you both groan. lips coming together in more of a sloppy mesh than an actual kiss.

its hard and intense immediately. hard pumps of his hips against yours, wet slaps filling the room. your bed rocks with the motion and your legs are rising, rising, rising, wrapping around his tuat flexing waist.

"yes." you babble over and over, "yes, yes, yes. i love you - oh god! - i love you, daddy fuck - fuck my pussy, yes-"

he tugs your bottom lip between his teeth, groaning loudly. he works into you harder, his skin gleaming with sweat from fucking you now, your whole bed is gonna be damp with your sticky lovemaking and he loves it, "love you. fuck, god, i love you, baby. love this tight little cunt on my cock -"

#ask #i dont know what came over me bro #patrick zweig x reader #patrick zweig smut #challengers smut #patrick zweig #challengers #josh o'connor smut #patrick smut #patrick x reader #patrick zwieg smut #patrick zwieg x reader

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leclercsluvs · 2 days

Text

MV1 | Echoes of Sorrow

an: this is sorta loosely based on a song from 2006 that i used to listen to all the time. considering it's not an english song, i'm not going too much after it, just kinda the "plot" of the song. it's danish by the duo nik & jay and its called 'når et lys slukkes' so if you're up for it you can take a listen. warning: kidnapping, swearing, death, drunk driving, murder, car crash, google translated french, not proof read word count: 2.8k

max knew bringing you into his life was dangerous, but it wasn't until he got the call that he realized just how dangerous it actually was. you hadn’t been in danger in the 4 years you’d been dating. but then again, max didn’t quite know the dangers of what he had gotten himself into in the beginning. he thought it was just an innocent way to get a ton of money. boy was he wrong. now he’s sitting in a bar at 12 pm, because he didn’t know what to do. it’s been raining all week, and right now, it most certainly is not helping his mood.

“can i have a refill?” max mumbles to the bartender, pushing his glass forward. he hasn't been here for that long, but he’s definitely had more than he should have. but he needs to clear his head a little, and he couldn’t do that sober, at least that was his excuse for ending up at the bar.

“i think you’ve had enough,” the bartender walks over to him, putting a hand in front of max “can i have your keys? you’re not driving anywhere like this.”

“i didn’t bring my keys,” max lies so effortlessly. “someone drove me here, i’ll just call a cab” he gets up and walks towards the door. he can feel the tears stinging in his eyes, but he isn’t interested in crying in front of anyone. not right now. he just needs a bit more liquor and he's set. he can find you. you’re counting on him.

in fact, you knew max was coming. he had been telling you ever since you started dating, that if anything were to happen to you, he’d be the first to start looking for you. and right now, that hope, that was all you needed. you needed the knowledge that someone was coming. someone was looking for you. you didn’t exactly know how you ended up tied together in the trunk of a car, but you sure knew, this was not on your to-do list today. you weren’t even sure who was driving the car you were in, and you couldn’t feel your phone in your pocket, so you had no way to call max.

max stumbles into the small convenience store and picks up a bottle of vodka “this will probably do” he mumbles and walks to the cash register to pay.

“mr. verstappen! what are you doing here so early? i didn't think you’d be back today, i don't have it here” the owner of the store looks almost terrified to see him back. well to be fair he was here collecting a big sum of money just a few days ago, and let’s just say, it didn’t quite go as everyone had wanted. they still had some cleaning up to do.

“i’m not here for business today,” max says, as he places the bottle on the counter “just had to pick up this” he looks up at the man across him, eyes blank, on the brink of tears. he won't do it yet though. not around people. he might be liked and respected as of right now, but all that could change oh so quickly. especially if he broke down over this. so many people in this business had suffered worse and he was on the brink of crying because his girlfriend had been kidnapped? and he didn’t even fully know if it was true yet.

“oh, well that will be 20 dollars” max barely gives him time to finish before the money is on the counter, bottle in his hand and he's walking towards the door. he needs time alone. now. he needs to process.

as the car came to a stop, you couldn’t do anything but hold your breath, would you know the person that had taken you? or would he be a total stranger? the trunk opened and the rain disappointed you. was it really on a rainy day you got kidnapped? a man’s face appeared and you couldn’t help the fear creeping in.

“so you are max’s girl now?” he spoke with a french accent. if he wasn’t a kidnapper, you would have found it kinda hot. but under the circumstances it was anything BUT hot.

“what do you want us to do with her?” a different voice asked, you sorta recognized it, but only faintly. was he the one that had technically kidnapped you? most likely.

“get her inside. i have to call max. he needs to know for sure that we have her. i want him in the most panicked state possible, before i send the body to him.” the body? was he talking about yours? god you were going to die. on a rainy day. how awesome. the frenchman walked away and his friend came into view, picking you up as easy as if you were a bag of flour. you tried everything to get out. not really interested in this new fate of yours.

max barely makes it to the car before his phone rings. he looks at the caller id. it’s an unknown number. he hesitates for a second, then realizes it could be someone with news about you, so he quickly accepts the call and brings the phone to his ear “hello?” he unscrews the cap on the bottle of vodka, and takes a quick sip as he waits for a reply from the unknown caller.

“is this max verstappen?” he sighs. doubting it’s about you if they have to ask if it's him.

“yes. this is max” he replies while screwing the cap back on the bottle. “who am i speaking with?”

“you should come see for yourself. if you want to see your girlfriend again” the voice states and gives an address and max wastes no time getting there. tears running down his cheeks, he’s silent tho, he just has to get to you. he needs to get you back. he can't let anything happen to you. he can’t lose you.

against your will you were placed on a chair in the middle of a nicely decorated room on the second floor of a huge house. you started losing hope. they weren't going to wait long. not if their plan to be able to send you body to max was going to be successful. panic and fear started to mix when you were left alone in the room with your thoughts. thoughts about how this stranger was going to murder you and then send your body to max. you couldn’t stop imagining his face. if he knew about you by now, he would be looking for you. you knew it. it had to be like that. right? he told you so many times. he would get to you. you needed him. your only hope was him.

max walks up to the front door, feeling 100% sober, however the bottle is still in his hand, could it be useful? maybe if it was empty. he has to get you out alive and safe though, so anything was helpful. the front door is slightly open so he pushes it further open hoping no one is there. he would like for this to be a bit of a surprise. he left his phone in the car, so it wouldn’t suddenly ring or vibrate and expose him.

the first room he steps into is a living room, nicely decorated. a lot of expensive furniture. “this asshole sure loves spending money” max mutters to himself as he moves further into the house, looking behind every door he comes past.

he makes it into the kitchen. he hasn't run into anyone yet but he knows it won't be long and he doesn't have any way to defend himself, except for the bottle, but how useful is that really? he looks around the room and his gaze lands on a set of kitchen knives. almost glinting on the table, asking him to take one with him, so he does and moves further until he gets to a staircase. he can hear faint voices coming from upstairs, but he can't hear who they belong to or what the topic is. he quietly makes his way up the stairs, knife ready in his right hand, bottle in his left hand. he’s prepared for any surprise this might throw at him.

before reaching the very top stop, he stops and wipes his eyes before taking the last step up. he looks around making sure they aren't right there just waiting for him. he moves towards the voices and his entire body stiffens as he hears your voice “don't hurt him! please! i’ll do anything to keep him safe,” max takes a couple more steps and stops, the voices are much louder now.

“everything huh?” max hears the french accent and immediately knows who it is. pierre. pierre fucking gasly. max is seething with rage. he can feel it in every fiber of his being. “how about,” the voice trails off and max hears you let out a whimper and his mind is suddenly full of all the things pierre could be doing to you. when max hears the second whimper, it’s clear pierre is doing something to inflict pain on you, and it’s almost as if something changes inside max. he’s barely got enough self control to stay put and put together a plan. but any plan he makes won’t be good enough if he doesn't do something now.

just as he’s about to jump in and do god knows what he hears your voice “va te faire foutre” (fuck off - google translate) you spit out, and he can’t help but feel proud, even if he has no clue what you said. he stands like that for a few seconds, until your muffled cry is heard and he springs into action, not even thinking about what he’s about to do, right in front of you.

both you and pierre, who didn’t hear max arrive, both get startled and rightfully so, who wouldn't be startled if a man comes at you with a knife, rage in his eyes. he won’t let anything happen. even if that means he has to kill. he’ll do it. he’ll do it for you. he tackles pierre in less than 2 seconds simply because he wasn’t prepared. stupid. max quickly gets himself positioned so pierre has no way of moving and then brings out the knife, taunting pierre a bit before he makes his first cut. no one will be able to identify pierre when max is done with him. however he hasn't noticed that you're tied to the chair, forced to watch as max digs the knife into pierres skin, slowly, dragging out the pain. as pierre thinks the first part is over, max quickly places the knife in his abdomen, making pierre cough up a bit of blood and just look at the knife with pure shock and horror in his eyes. max locks their eyes and keeps eye contact as he twists the knife making pierre groan in pain. funnily enough max is quite enjoying this. he slowly pulls out the knife, but not for long, he has a lot of work ahead of him. he doesn’t plan to let pierre off the hook easily.

the red blood seems to never stop seeping out of the many wounds inflicted by max. it feels like it’s everywhere. the carpet, the walls, max’s hands. pierre. he's a mess. not recognisable at all. max gets up and looks around to see where you might have gone, only to see you strapped to the chair, tears never stopping from falling down your cheeks as you just stare at the mess in front of you. “what did you do? what the hell did you do?!” you almost scream, pain radiating from your voice. not only from what you just had to witness, but also from the wound above your knee. blood trickling down your leg. he should have noticed, he should have known. stupid. stupid. stupid! how could he miss this?

he rushes to your side, putting pressure on your wound, looking around for something he can use instead of his hands, but he can’t see anything useful. “please tell me you’re going to be okay.” max looks at your leg, the blood doesn't stop, his hands aren't enough.

your face is still full of tears, your skin looking a little pale. sweat starts to cover your skin. it almost looks like you just took a shower in your clothes “omg max,” you mumble, barely able to get the sentence out “did you just kill him?” you look at him with wide eyes as a sudden headache hits you, your vision becomes blurry, “what’s that ringing sound?” you ask, confused, barely able to focus, anxiety creeping into your brain, consuming all your thoughts.

max is just confused. there is no ringing. it's completely quiet, except for pierres ragged breaths. “i’m not sure what you’re talking about, schat, there is no ringing”

“the pain stopped.” max looked up at you, in horror at what you had just said. you couldn't not be in pain. he can’t leave the scene like this though so he unscrews the cap on the bottle he brought with him and pours it around pierre. he’s not sure this is going to look like an accidental fire, but does he really care about that right now? no. he only cares about you, and he needs to get you to a hospital now! he quickly gets you free from the chair, takes a lighter out of his pocket. he rips off a small piece of fabric from his shirt, and lights it on fire. he lets go of it and lets it drop to the floor where a ring of fire quickly spreads around pierre.

he has to move quickly now. he picks you up, your body already feels lifeless. he gets you to the car, luckily without running into any of pierre’s men. it was only a matter of time before they noticed the fire.

he had to get to the hospital as quickly as he could. he floored the accelerator. getting you to the hospital is the only thing on his mind this second. and he did make it. however, your body was limp, lifeless. and he was afraid it was too late. but he still had to try, he didn't have time to feel for a pulse, just had to get you in quickly.

“help! please!” he walked through the doors with you in his arms, multiple doctors running towards him.

“what happened?” a nurse asks while someone else asks for a gurney.

“i’m not sure, i was told to go to a location, and i found her inside, strapped to a chair with a wound above her knee” max basically told the truth, except for the part about pierre. no one had to know about that. no one would know about that.

“put her here, and we'll do our best to save her,” the nurse gestures to the gurney being pushed towards them in a hurry. they all disappear in a hurry, doing everything they can. max doesn't see much, but he does see that no one gives you CPR, which must mean you have a pulse. he looks down and notices his hands, covered in blood. which must mean his car is covered in blood too. which means he needs to clean it.

he rushes out, rushing to his car. he has to get home, get it cleaned up. he can't seem to stop crying. and the fact it’s raining isn’t helping his vision at all. he pushes on the accelerator a bit more. his head is full of thoughts. thoughts of you, dying, it being his fault, he never had to get into this business.he decides to put on some music, and the song currently being played is one of the new ones from taylor swift. max doesn't mind it. he actually relates a little to the song. he turns up the volume and listen to the chorus of “who’s afraid of little old me”

a tear falls down his left cheek, as the roads get a bit narrower. this doesn't make him slow down. quite the opposite actually. he speeds up more. he likes the thrill of it. his alcohol level is way too high for him to be driving this quickly, in a part of town with a lot of traffic lights and pedestrians.

he doesn't see the red light until it’s too late. the woman crossing the road to reach her friend doesn't notice either, her boyfriend does though, and he leaps out in front to try and push her out of the way. however, he doesn't manage to do it in time. max’s foot slams down on the break, but it’s too late. max closes his eyes, he knows how this will end. he hears a bang and all light disappears.

i haven't made a written fic since my wattpad days back in 2020 so i'm not sure how good this is. sorry about the cliffhanger hehealso very sorry i haven't posted in many days, i lowkey forgot about all of these, and then i got a tiny bit busy so when i did remember i didn't have time to write. anyway enjoy this while i work on something more

#formula 1 #f1 #formula one #max verstappen #max verstappen!mafia #mafia max verstappen #max #verstappen #mv33 #mv1 #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen x you #max verstappen x y/n

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crownjewel123 · 1 day

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I’m requesting a 15th!Doctor x Rogue fix it fic where the Doctor uses the psychic circuit to find Rogue and there’s a cute reunion between the Doctor and Rogue where they decide to travel together and Rubys there like “awww” a lot of fluff hurt/comfort maybe some tears and a kiss! Thank you so much have a good day!

Combining your request with @flamboyantbisexual’s since they’re rather similar. I hope you enjoy, I just finished the episode myself :)

That couldn’t be it, right?

They had lost plenty of people, for good. Almost everyone he promised to protect, it was like he was signing off on the execution himself when he promised.

The Doctor, they weren’t the type to give up. So why was he?

It is what it is, brush off the dust, and keep swimming. Just like Dory always says.

But why? Why should they keep doing this? How does he continue to do this? He thinks, maybe he’s too old to let it just roll off the shoulders so easily.

And, they had just met him. Just truly, honestly, properly met Rogue. Why, then, did it sting like they had always known?

The joke about the screwdriver, the cabinets, Rogue reminded him of someone long lost.

And pulling the gun on him on the first meeting, telling them to find him. It was all so familiar, so similar. Just like how they had met here at her ending. Went back, uploaded her to the library.

Except this time, someone remains, not just a consciousness.

They look down at the ring on his finger, the Hermes symbol glaring back at him. The sign of a traveler, the sign of a medic. How ironic that they were both.

Ruby smiled sadly at him from across the room, as he twists the silver accessory around his finger. Silent as they relax in the stillness. They didn’t normally do stillness.

“Doctor, what’s on your mind?” Ruby asks softly, worry in her eyes as they rest on his furrowed brow. They know she has his best interest in mind, he’s thankful for his best friend. She doesn’t let him brood in the silence alone, or just push on like it’s nothing. A healthier approach in all honesty.

Like a light-switch in their head, they snap their fingers.

“I know how to find him!” They jump with a grin, slipping the ring off.

“Doctor?” Ruby raises a brow, excited though wary. Where had his mind drifted off to now.

“His atoms may be difficult to find, but this ring- I’m certain we could use it to track his bio-diversity to the void he’s trapped in,” The Doctor beans and there’s a certain giddiness to his demeanor. Ruby visibly brightens, gesturing for him to go on.

“How?”

“I’m going to use the Tardis’ psychic circuit to cross examine his atomic signature, and trace him to the void he’s in with the Chuldor’s,” a small tray slides out from the console with the flick of a switch. They delicately place the ring, sliding it back into place, and the Tardis lets out a ding. Then, her engines begin to churn to life.

“But isn’t it possible you’ll bring a Chuldor aboard by accident? Do you think they’ve decided to cosplay as him?” She’s excited, but she doesn’t want to get her hopes too high. She wants them to be safe- well safe as they can be. His grin widens.

“I would worry, except, Rogue has been in the Tardis, which means he’s contracted her neuron energy,” the Tardis is moving beneath their feet now, shifting swiftly through the vortex. “I could beam him up here without ever setting foot outside- the time vortex is sure to have rubbed off on him even in that short amount of time.” They both exchange a giddy laugh.

And as they soar and the engines ring their tune, it’s not long that they’re grinding to a halt- he would never turn those brakes off.

With a sonic to the console, there’s a small ding, as a gasp escapes from Ruby. A small sound that echoes behind them, and they turn.

There he is, like the moment he had zapped himself away. Beautiful blue eyes, and suit clinging to him just like that very night in 1813.

“I knew you’d find me,” there’s tears brimming in Rogue’s eyes as he smiles back at him. Overcome by emotions the Doctor can’t begin to unwind, he jogs over and pulls him into a tight hug. “I never doubted it for a second.”

“How could I resist? Love a good challenge, saving a damsel.” The Doctor jests as he pulls back to meet his beautiful blue eyes. He brushes away a single tear. Rogue lets out a laugh.

“That would be a good edition to my campaign,” he searches their brown eyes with his own. “And what a brave night is leather armor.” He notes the other’s dress as he surveys them. The Doctor laughs once again, and Ruby’s own baffled laugh echoes them.

“I believe there’s only one thing left then.” The Doctor remarks.

“What’s that?” Rogue raises a brow.

“True love’s kiss!” Ruby cheers, jumping for joy behind them.

“You heard her,” the Doctor grins, leaning into Rogue with a chaste and amorous embrace. There’s clapping behind them, as Ruby cheers happily. Rogue leans into their soft exchange, and then they both part. “Now, how’s about I show you the stars?”

“I’d follow you anywhere.” Rogue smiles.

#idk i feel that fifteen is a he/they #doctor who #fifteenth doctor #rogue #rogue x fifteen #fifteen x rogue #spoilers #dr who spoilers #dr who #doctor who spoilers #fanfic #request

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sirthisisa-wendys · 2 days

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Hiiyaa any updates on Hand her over II part 4?

Well, well, well. A year later and I resurface from the dead to revive this series. Maybe I just needed this break to remind me that I love writing more than I love being a recluse. Let's see if I've still got the magic in me!

Hand Her Over II (Part 4): Kanji Mochizuki/ Kokonoi Hajime x Fem!Reader

wc: 1.6k

tw: drugs, alcohol, angst

masterlist

Hand Her Over Megapost Link

Kanji Mochizuki

Crack!

The air in Mochi's lungs hisses out of him as he swings the axe down on the stump. "I don't want this baby anymore!" He lifts the axe once more, focusing on the whistling of the air and not the memories that keep him awake at night.

Crack!

The stump is almost split in two. Almost ready for the fire he'll build inside the fireplace. Almost... ready...

Crack! Mochi's breath escapes in puffs, clouding the air around him briefly before clearing up. He's cold. His nose burns while his fingers - exposed through the enlarged crochet holes - sing with energy. There was a time that he would use this energy to fight... but these days, all he can manage is to keep you alive for one more hour, one more minute, one more second.

"The child is mine, too." Mochi gingerly lifts the pile of split wood and mindlessly traces his way back to the house. It looms in the distance like a sullen, sulking pedestrian hunched over in the snow, covered in the white drifts of the night before. Mochi stops. His breath comes evenly, but his heart sags. Inside, nothing awaited him but your tear-stained face and shrinking figure. It was hard, observing as you became a shadow of yourself, and even if the baby was his... he couldn't bear to watch you waste away any further.

"I have firewood," Mochi calls out and - not for the first time - silence greets him. But he proceeds into the living room anyways, dropping the wood into the metal holder before placing some into the fireplace. Paper crumples between his massive hands before he tosses it in with the wood. A match is struck. And Mochi tosses it into the pile of soon-to-be ash, staring at the infant flames.

You're nowhere to be found, Mochi discovers after searching for you on the first floor. But that's not bothering him now. He knows where you are and what you're doing. So instead of worrying himself to death, he sits on the couch and cracks open a well-worn novel.

You come shuffling down the stairs of the cabin as he's reaching the climax of his story, one he knows well. It's the middle of the day, and you've just woken up from a very long slumber. "You might as well be a bear," he said once, smiling at you. But you gave him an empty-eyed stare before retreating to somewhere Mochi couldn't be. Somewhere where he couldn't fuck up anymore because that's what made you happy. That's what satisfied you.

"A fire," you murmur, gazing at the growing flames with a blank stare.

"Went outside to get us some more wood." Mochi doesn't even bother to look up from his paperback, but fear courses down his back. What if he made the fire too big? Would you be upset and cry? Would you hate him even more than you already do? He knows you stayed with him in this marriage because there was no other option but--

"Thanks." Out of the corner of his eye, Mochi watches as you sit in front of the fire carefully, putting your hands out to warm them. For a second, he swears he hallucinated the appreciation, but then you turn your head towards him. "We should talk."

Mochi puts his book down in his lap and give you the courtesy to speak freely by saying nothing. Your stomach partially protrudes out of your robe, and for a moment, Mochi can see your flesh stretch to accommodate the heel of a foot. His heart leaps (though this isn't the first time he's seen this), but he hides his joy behind a mask of stoicism.

"I've been thinking..." Another flutter of energy. Mochi feels his fingers - the ones that held so much energy just an hour ago - ache to reach out and smooth against your stomach like he secretly does at night. "I want to keep the baby." An elbow presses against your navel. Mochi's eyes follow the child's every move; every atom whimpers to reach out, to connect with the child he's loved for so long...

"Mochi?" He finally looks away and into your eyes. They're waiting for an answer, for something more than just a blank stare.

"I'm sorry." The whispered apology lands without a response, and Mochi tenses, preparing for the inevitable flood of emotions. For the inevitable sign that he's fucked up. Again. You notice where he was staring, looking from him, to your stomach, and back again. After a moment's hesitation, you stand and walk over to where he is on the couch. "Give me your hand." You reach down for his arm with care, then tug it away from his book easily. With your guidance, his hand smooths over your belly, feeling every inch of your flesh tenderly.

"It's a little late to decide," you muse. "But I should... We should... keep the baby." A sob hitches in your throat, and Mochi tosses the book aside as he stands to envelop you in a hug. "I'm just so afraid." It's awkward, hugging a pregnant woman, Mochi thinks as he tries to pull you as close as possible. This is his first hug in months, but he'd be damned if he didn't try his best to love you.

"I'm afraid, too," Mochi murmurs. You lean into him, tears soaking his shirt. Crocodile tears. "That doesn't mean we shouldn't try, though."

You nod, sniffing loudly. "I'm sorry... I-- I've been so afraid and it's made things--"

"Shhh." He smooths your hair and kisses the top of your head. "It's all in the past. We don't have to go back there anymore."

Kokonoi Hajime

Koko looks at his reflection in the mirror, turning this way and that before deciding he looks good enough to go out. He places his phone in his pocket, then his keys, and finally his--

Bzzt, bzzt.

Koko pulls out his phone. Another text message from Inupi. Another apology. Another excuse. He places it back in his pocket, then reaches for the shot glass on the corner of his dresser. It's half full of something clear and sharp and tangy, but he doesn't care. He's gotten used to the taste of sharp, bitter things.

Bzzt, bzzt, bzzt.

Koko's jaw clenches, and he pulls out his phone one more time. It's you this time. You'd barely sent him any messages or dared to call him, but each time you texted, you would send the message, then delete it.

Koko, I don't know what to say other than

This message has been deleted.

Almost instantly. Before he could even read the damned thing. Koko slings the phone over to the bed, scowling at the empty screen, save four repetitions of "this message has been deleted". He storms out of the house, leaving both Inui and you behind, just like you left him behind.

This is his third week outside, out at the clubs, out doing things he knows are wrong and bad for his health and only driven by anger and loneliness. Koko leans over a bathroom toilet seat - the lowest he's ever gotten in the past year - and sniffs hard and long at the powder lined up on the paper seat liner.

"You should have a fingernail for that."

The voice behind him is well-known. Koko swipes the seat cover into the toilet and flushes before plastering a fake smile on his face and turning to Manjiro Sano. "They told me I could find you here." Koko looks at his boss while trying so hard to avoid looking displeased.

"How can I help?" Koko wonders, placing his hands in his pockets and touching the remainder of the bag of powder.

Manjiro sighs, picking his teeth while his eyes wander aimlessly around the room. "I don't need help," he finally answers. And that's when Koko realizes he's alone. There's no one else in the bathroom but him and Mikey. The silence is deafening. "Where's y/n?"

"So, you do need my help."

"Where is Inui?" Koko shrugs. Manjiro stares back.

"You got them away from me." You could give them up right now for betraying you. "How?"

"I don't know what you mean. They disappeared on me and everyone else."

"So you're in a bathroom, snorting...? Hoping that their location will just come to you out of the ether?" Kokonoi feels the singular most terrifying emotion course through his system, but he's too slow to react. Within an instant, he's against the toilet seat, and his ribs are on fire. "I don't believe a word you say, Hajime."

Mikey coldly stoops over him, knowing the single kick delivered to his body is enough to make Kokonoi squeal. Or at least... it was.

"If you lie again, you're going to wish you had more than just cocaine to ease your little love-triangle problem." Kokonoi looks up at Mikey defiantly, feeling his life trickle through his fingers. He could go out tight-lipped, or he could survive, but die a thousand deaths. "You owe me the truth. I made you who you are."

"You won't find them," Kokonoi spits, blood spraying across Mikey's face as he laughs. "You're a fucking bully, Mikey. I don't owe you shit. So, what? So you can prove you're more than a gang lead--" Kokonoi feels his fingers bending back so far that they touch his arm.

Pain.

Pain!

Pain...

...pain.

He's not sure of anything other than pain anymore. I can't wait until this is over, Kokonoi thinks to himself, feeling a tooth pass between his lips as he slumps onto the dirty tile floor.

Ever since they left, I've been in so much pain.

#tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers x reader #seishu inui x reader #inui seishu x reader #inui seishu #hajime kokonoi x reader #kokonoi hajime x reader #hajime kokonoi

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seasirengirl · 11 hours

Text

FOR THE FIRST TIME, AGAIN

pairing: jason grace x fem!neptune!reader

part i - ii

a/n: this is a part 2 to “taking what’s not yours” it took me so long to finish this, i deeply apologise, enjoy reading🤍

“jason knew he messed up big time by hiding from you for days when he heard your quiet soft sobs in that damned spot you two had claimed as yours as kids. after days of ignorance he finally got the guts to come find you and tell you he remembered everything, well, almost everything. he remembered everything about you, because you were the only thing occupying his mind and soul. other things, he didn’t remember much.

he tried to call out your name but the word did not come out from his mouth, as he was about to turn around and leave you alone for what felt like the thousandth time, he heard your faint voice.

“jason?” you spoke with your strained voice, hoarse from crying.

he froze for a second and then turned around as you quickly wiped your tears away and gave him your signature small smile he fell in love with long ago.

he looked at you and felt himself falling in love once again, it was like he saw you again for the first time. princess of the sea, right then and there, smiling at him with tears blurring her beautiful eyes. it all became too much for him all of a sudden, hundreds of new memories flowing through his mind all at once, every time he genuinely looked at you, memories came back to him, maybe that’s why he avoided you, seeing you has shown him too much of his past, a past that was beautiful with you, but had major dark sides.

jason’s life at camp jupiter wasn’t great, you did help making it bearable, but the time he spent at camp half-blood, feeling accepted and not pressured all the time was good for him. you gave him a taste of his old life, a life he had to prepare for. a life he wasn’t ready to go back to, but would he risk it all for you?

“i’m sorry, i have to go.” jason rushed, feeling a headache nothing could soothe, it was all too much for him.

“can you, uh, can you stay?” you released the breath you had no idea you were even holding, maybe asking for something from jason was a bad idea, he clearly wanted nothing to do with you, you were probably just a problem to him, as you overthinked everything, so did jason.

he froze once again, flashes of the good times with you came all at once, realising that the only times he had ever truly felt happy was when you were along with him, his little love, the only reason he looked forward to going back to camp jupiter.

“yeah, i can do that.” he gave you a smile and sat next to you, shyly wrapping an arm around your shoulders as you put your head into his chest, feeling more tears coming to your eyes, you couldn’t hold back a sob.

“shh, it’s okay, we’re okay.” his soft voice calmed you down while his gentle hands soothed your back.

“are we?” you whispered.

“we will be,” jason replied, his voice barely above a whisper, as if speaking too loudly would shatter the fragile peace between you. “i just... i need to figure some things out. but i promise, i'm not going to leave you again.”

you nodded, your tears soaking into his shirt, but you didn’t care. this was the closest you’d felt to him in days, and you weren’t ready to let go.

“we’ve been through so much,” you said, your voice trembling. “i just want things to be like they were.”

“i know,” jason murmured, resting his chin on top of your head. “and we will get there, together. i remember how we used to be, how happy we were. we can find that again.”

for a while, you both sat there in silence, the weight of the past days of hurt and misunderstanding slowly lifting. in that moment, it felt like the world had paused, giving you both a chance to mend what had been broken.

“thank you,” you finally said, pulling back just enough to look up at him. “for coming back.”

“i couldn’t stay away,” jason replied, his eyes soft and filled with sincerity. “not from you.”

with that, he leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, a silent promise of better days ahead. and for the first time in days, you allowed yourself to believe that maybe, just maybe, everything would be alright.

#jason grace #heroes of olympus #jason grace x reader #jason grace x you #percy jackson and the olympians #pjo #hoo #percy jackson x reader #jason grace x poseidon!reader #jason grace x neptune!reader

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deadtired-highkeyenergetic · 2 hours

Note

Hi! I was wondering if you take request for Astarion and co.? The reader gets an aura migraine (worst kind of migraine in my opinion). But because of her/their past being a mercenary/hunter/warrior (whichever one), the reader doesn’t tell or even realize it until it’s too late. Just some angst and then love and care from Astarion.

I love your writing! So please take all the time you need to write this if you want to.

HIHI I'M SORRY FOR NOT POSTING FOR SO LONG!!!!!!! I've been very tired as of late from all the schoolwork and I swear it's almost like I don't have any down time. Writing through this slog has been difficult as well and I don't like forcing/rushing things. Still, I managed to finish this, hope you like it!

Summary: You collapse right in front of Astarion due to a particularly bad aura migraine episode. Panic and emotional constipation ensues

Your head is splitting. Again.

Inhaling sharply, you let out a slow breath, willing the pain away so that you can focus on the task at hand. Black spots creep in on the edges of your vision but you blink them away, you can’t falter now. You swing your blade, slicing through another of Orin’s assassins before ducking as a dagger stabs the spot your head was at just moments ago.

Even with spotty vision, your battle instincts are enough to help you survive the fight, but you don’t emerge from the fight unscathed. One of the assassins manages to sneak up on you and gets a hit in, tearing open your shoulder.

“Y/N!”

You hiss in pain, whirling around to cleave the assassin in half with your blade. Your injured arm shakes from the exertion, fresh blood streaming from the wound with each motion. The throbbing pain doesn’t help your migraine in the slightest and you nearly keel over.

“My dear, you look terrible.” Astarion catches you just before you hit the floor, a hint of concern in his eyes.

“I’m fine.” You grab onto him to steady yourself, blinking as your vision begins to swim and push yourself upright, flashing him a grin. “See? Perfectly fine!”

And then the world spins before fading to black.

Bright light fills your vision as you open your eyes, causing you to throw your arm up to block out the light, only for white hot pain to shoot through said arm.

Right. You had injured your arm.

Groaning, you rub your eyes with the other arm and tenderly push yourself upright, letting out a croaky yelp when your injured arm buckles beneath you. Closing your eyes, you breathe out slowly, releasing your annoyance at the current situation.

“How are you feeling?” A familiar deep voice sounds.

“Fine.” Your reply comes out harsher than you intended and you internally cringe when Halsin noticeably pauses, taken aback by your tone.

“Sorry,” you mutter quickly. “How long was I out for?”

“Sufficiently long to make everyone worry.” He hands you a flask of water. “Drink up.”

You down the flask almost immediately, feeling the cool liquid slide down your throat and let out a contented sigh. The throbbing in your head has dulled to a quiet hum, but it will remain for a few more days, if past experience is anything to go by.

"Thank you." You hand the now empty flask back to Halsin.

"If you're feeling well enough, you should go and talk to the others. Some of them were particularly worried when you fainted on them." Halsin gives you a sly smirk. "Especially a certain vampire."

You raise an eyebrow and Halsin laughs, "he was the most worried. I had to chase him out of the tent just so I could tend to you."

"He was that worried," you murmur to yourself, frowning slightly. You hadn't meant to do that, well not like you had meant to faint in the first place but knowing just how much of an impact your little 'accident' had on Astarion made you feel bad.

"Watch yourself out there, you were lucky you only collapsed after all the enemies were defeated," Halsin chides as he rebandages your wound and hands you a healing potion. "Try to tell someone when you're not feeling well, alright?"

You laugh, waving him off, "I'll try, no promises though."

The moment you exit the room, the others rush over to check up on you, save for a pale elf who sends a scowl your way before disappearing into his own room, his door left ajar. You reassure the others, quickly making your way past the conversations and slip away with Halsin's help, ducking into a familiar room.

"Hey." You attempt to make conversation but a scowl remains firmly on his face, his gaze buried in the book he's holding. Sighing, you make your way to the bed and nestle into the remaining space, feeling his cooling skin press against your burning one.

"I'm sorry for making you worry."

"You're sorry? That's it? You're not going to explain why I suddenly had your unconscious body in my arms, why you had the audacity to tell me you were 'perfectly fine' before collapsing, why you —" He stops to take a breath he doesn't need, feeling every emotion rush to the surface and tears prick the corners of his eyes. He's mad, mad at you for not telling him anything, mad at himself for not noticing earlier, mad at himself for not being able to express his concern in a normal manner.

"Star…"

"You can't just say sorry and expect everything to be ok! Sorry fixes nothing!" He yells, wanting nothing more than for you to yell back at him so that he can release the emotions he doesn't know how to deal with in the only way he knows how but you remain quiet, head hung low, and that frustrates him even more.

"You're right. Sorry fixes nothing. I…" You let out a deep sigh, lifting your gaze to meet his. You can see the tear streaks that have formed, the fear in his eyes, the anxiety and it steals your breath away.

"Halsin wasn't kidding. You really are extremely worried for me." You can't help but give a small chuckle despite it all, a quiet smile making its way onto your face.

"Of course I'm worried!" Astarion snaps.

"Thank you for being worried." You slip your hand into his. "No one's ever been this worried about me before."

"Have you fainted in someone's arms before?" He huffs, annoyed, but he has simmered down.

"Well…not quite. I always went on quests alone, fought alone, but the times I wasn't alone…let's just say things didn't go so well for me." You laugh, giving his hand a squeeze. "You all…you…are the first people I don't mind calling friends."

He clicks his tongue and looks away, but you can see the red on the tips of his ears. Your own cheeks are burning from the confession, your heart thundering like never before and you want nothing more than to bury your face into your knees.

"Why aren't you angry at me?" He mumbles after a while, still refusing to meet your gaze.

"Is there a reason I should be?" You murmur, running your thumb along his skin. His grip on you tightens and he bites his lip, shifting anxiously.

"There are many." The words leave his lips in a whisper and he wishes he could take them back when he sees the way your face falls.

"I can't think of any. I can, however, think of reasons for you to be angry at me." You shake your head. "I should have told you about my migraines earlier instead of having you find out like that, I should have done more than a simple 'sorry', I should have thought about you instead of just keeping to myself."

"You were just doing what you knew was safe. I'm no better."

"But you chose to open up to me. You spilled your deepest darkest secrets and yet I kept mine from you because I didn't want to look weak. I should have returned the favour, but I didn't." All your regrets come spilling forth, its flow stemmed only by the feeling of soft lips against your own.

He kisses you gently at first, and then it deepens, becoming more urgent as he conveys his feelings to you the only way he knows how.

"You're strong. You're the strongest person I know. You've been through so much, and yet you refuse to let any of it stop you. You've been dealing with your migraine by yourself for so long, putting up with the pain by yourself, nothing about that is weak in the slightest." He presses his forehead against yours, pulling you into his embrace. "Let me share in your burden as you share in mine."

"It's only fair, I suppose." Your lips curve into a grin. Letting out a quiet breath, you entangle your fingers in his curls, feeling him lean into the touch. "Promise?"

"Promise," he murmurs back, soaking in the moment. There's only you and him, bodies pressed against each other, embracing like it's the last time you'll ever see each other, washing away the throbbing in your head and the ache in his heart.

He closes his eyes, relishing in the warmth of your body tightly pressed against him, breathing in your scent that speaks of love, comfort, safety, feeling the rhythmic strokes of your fingers through his hair, and wants for nothing else. Pressing a kiss to your temple, he smiles, genuinely, and saves this moment in his memory.

"Get well soon, my love."

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #astarion bg3 #baldurs gate astarion #astarion romance #astarion x durge #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion x you #astarion ancunin #tavstarion #durgestarion

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chuluoyi · 5 months

Text

LOVER'S QUARREL

- fushiguro megumi x reader

“i can't do this anymore.” you and megumi are just too different; he's stoic, you're bubbly, he prefers solitude, you love being social. it starts with fights, words you don't mean, and ends with an event that would haunt him for a long time to come.

genre: angst, breaking up, post-breakup feelings, mentions and description of injury and blood, hurt/comfort, fluff in the end (you make up!)

note: dear god i’m finally getting this out of my drafts. loosely inspired by real life events i’ve seen around my friend’s relationship sooo it might hurt a bit 🤏🏻 but who can say no to angst to eventual fluff? tagging @lees-chaotic-brain and @kasumitenbaz (as per request in the ask!), you two are always here for my megumi works, thank you!! :3 and thank you for dropping by for the event!

a part of 1K MILESTONE EVENT

series masterlist | oneshot masterlist

Everyone pointed it out as a joke, that you liked him way more than he did you.

And you used to never let it ruffle you. To you, Megumi’s sternness and silence meant that he was comfortable with you. You never wanted him to change his ways just because now you were seeing each other.

But when you thought it over now, as you stood before him with an aghast expression and knives stabbing your kind, soft heart, you couldn’t help but do a double-take.

You were the one who confessed first. Most of the time, you were the one who initiated dates. You always texted him first, asking about his day, and even when he brushed you off, you would keep being this ball of sunshine and wished him a good day.

You never realized it before… that through everything, it has always been you. Unfailingly.

So how dare he spout this now?

“I can't do this anymore.”

"You... can't?" you spat out, feeling the first tendrils of anger course through you. "What exactly it is that you can't do? What do you even mean?"

"Look," Megumi stared at you squarely, and you thought now, that it was the coldest of eyes, straight and true. "It's always been like this between us lately. It's only right that we end this."

This, he said. He didn't even want to define your relationship anymore.

You scoffed. "And why do you think we always end up this way? Have you ever considered, even once, that it's because you make no effort at all?"

"I'm trying," Megumi quickly replied, almost in a hiss, and you almost recoiled. "But I just see that we'll end up nowhere, that's why I'm bringing this up now."

Oh, that freaking hurts. You boyfriend had just told you that this relationship would go nowhere. Right in your face.

Your eyes stung with tears, yet you fought to hold them back, fixing your gaze on the lamp overhead and inhaling deeply.

"You're... selfish," you stated, filled with ire. "You're always walking around eggshells around me, never telling me what is it that you really want—"

Megumi's unclouded eyes fixed on your trembling form. "We just disagree on a lot of things. You know it and it bothers you. It bothers me too. Rather than forcing our relationship, I think it's better—"

"It's always me!" you yelled then, lips quivering and eyes watering, unable to hold your emotions back any longer. "All dates, lunches—everything!" you locked your eyes with him, in mocking disbelief. "How can you say you're trying when, in truth, I'm the one putting in so much for us?!"

In that very second, Megumi thought that he hated seeing you like this. You were supposed to be the cheerful one in this relationship, and when he agreed to go out with you, he made an unspoken commitment to himself that he would at least not make you miserable.

And yet...

"...I'm sorry."

Came his reply, and you were sure that this was it.

And to rub the salt in your wound, he added, "I can't lie to you and say I haven't thought this for a while too."

As tears welled within you, you wondered and questioned what you lacked that led to this. However, the overwhelming sense of betrayal consuming your thoughts ultimately prevailed over any other emotions.

Now he could've appeared before you as a stranger and you wouldn't bat an eye, as the cold steel in his tone said, "And if blaming me is what it takes to make you feel better, then so be it."

You couldn't pinpoint the source of your sudden boldness, but in the next hot minute, you marched past him, your shoulder harshly colliding with his in a deliberate, almost spiteful manner—which, indeed, was your intention—and then you ran.

Which led to the next scene: you found yourself bawling your eyes out in the girls' lavatory.

Yuji and Nobara saw everything unfolding right before their eyes. They hadn't meant to eavesdrop, but you and Megumi were literally breaking up right the middle of their shared classroom, and it was hard not to follow the discourse until the end.

"Are you okay?" Nobara had come to your side, ensuring privacy by locking the restroom door out of your consideration. You were a sobbing mess, attempting to wipe the overflowing tears away while letting out all your emotions.

"He's..." Your voice faltered amid sobs as you gazed at your steadfast friend, your throat clogging up. "He said... he's been wanting t-to... break up with m-me..."

"That's okay, that's okay..." Nobara brought you to her arms, patting your back in reassurance. "Fushiguro is insensitive like that... don't cry over him now. He's just a wimp, okay?"

"Why is it me?" you asked her, voice brittle, still shaking with tears. "I t-tried everything! Being the supportive girlfriend..."

"If he can't appreciate what you did, then the problem lies with him," your friend stated, traces of irritation brewing in her resolute gaze. And as she firmly grasped your wrist, her next words resonated. "Not you."

. . .

"Do you really have to break her heart like that?" Yuji fidgeted with his hoodie, staring at his best friend with a blend of confusion and sympathy.

Megumi sighed, finally ruffling his hair into a mess, as if expressing his own state of mind. “This is for the best.”

Yuji’s eyebrows visibly creased. “How is this ‘for the best’? She’s miserable, and you…” he assessed him, scanning him from head to toe, “it doesn’t seem you’re faring any better too.”

“The longer she is with me, the unhappier she will be.” Megumi glanced at the bathroom’s direction. “She can deserve better.”

He was always too quiet, too boring, not able to match your energy too. He couldn’t fault you for expecting more, whereas he was just not exactly built for your expectations.

Megumi really thought he wanted it to end. At one point, it even felt like a chore, but…

How strange. Why did it feel like something was clawing at his chest?

Time heals. Megumi knew that by theory, but he really did see it firsthand when he saw you all giggling and happy again three weeks after he initiated the breakup.

With Hakari.

“Yo, what are you glaring at?” Panda asked, but Megumi didn’t pay him any mind.

An upperclassman, Hakari Kinji, was naturally cool and talented. He was laid back, knew how to have fun—all in all, a total opposite of Fushiguro Megumi altogether.

Three weeks. It’s only been three weeks since then.

“Megumi?”

Wait… Aren’t three weeks too fast to get over your ex?

“Megumi!”

“Huh?” he turned to the sentient panda with a jerk. “Oh, what is it?”

He looked at him with a concerned gaze. "Why do you look so scary? It's almost as if you're about to punch someone..."

But who was he to argue? He had no right to be upset now.

"Is it Kinji?" Panda gasped, finally putting two and two together when he followed his line of sight. "Oh Megumi... but you—"

"Just shut up, please," he blurted then, a hint of annoyance in his tone. With that, Panda didn't pursue it further, leaving him with his thoughts.

From where he was at the field, he could clearly see your radiant smile for Hakari. It was clear that the two of you shared a degree of friendship, but Megumi never knew that you two were that close.

...huh?

Why did the sight irritate him so suddenly? Why did his chest twinge again?

What a fool. You're the one driving her away, you idiot.

Suddenly these memories popped up one by one—

Of you suddenly hugging him from behind in an attempt to surprise him.

How he pressed his lips on the crown of your head when you fall asleep on his shoulder.

How you would give him that dopey smile when he pulled you close.

But on harder days after missions gone wrong, he’d ignore you altogether— the slight disappointment in your smile then. How your expression fell when he told you to go. How you slumped and looked back in hopes of him changing his mind.

“Haaaah.” Megumi turned away, unwilling to keep watching you any longer. Why? Why hadn’t it occurred to him before now?

Why did he long for you now? Why not before, when you were still his?

They were right. It seems people tend to desire what isn't meant for them.

What could have been more painfully awkward than being sent into a mission with your ex-boyfriend?

You would kill Gojo for this. Or at least give him the lowest possible score in his teaching evaluation for the year. How could he? Your breakup was an infamous public spectacle, so this setup was undoubtedly intentional!

You were losing your head over this, and yet your ex-boyfriend...

"Keep your guard up," Megumi reminded curtly, in a warning tone. He looked as vigilant and straight as always, as if he wasn't even bothered.

You threw him a dirty look, offended. "You don't have to tell me twice."

This just cranked up the discomfort to an excruciating level. The mix of unresolved tension and memories—okay, you might be an emo, but how were you supposed to be cool with all of these hanging in the air?

Your site of exorcism was an abandoned warehouse, and the cursed spirit in question was supposed to be a grade 3. You two were grade 2 sorcerers now, so you were a perfect fit to exorcise it. But there was indeed this unease in the air that you couldn't put your finger to.

"Isn't it awfully too quiet?" you unwittingly muttered, staring at the darkness of the wall. You couldn't feel any cursed energy belonging to any possible malevolent entity, and that was what unsettled you the most.

Megumi frowned at your line of sight. "It is. Stay close."

You blinked at what he said, and before you knew it, the familiar scent of him being near to you made your entire body burst with this equally familiar warmth. When you looked up to him, seeing the solid sharpness in that dark eyes of his and his jaw set, dead butterflies in your chest rose back to life again, against your heartbreak and better judgement.

Stay close, he said... So he is worried...

And in an attempt to hide how flustered you were, you looked down.

You walked a few good steps, when suddenly he asked, "So, are you with Hakari-senpai now?"

"Huh?" You spun around, your expression a mix of surprise and confusion.

"You two seem close."

Seem close? Seem close... wait, so Megumi had noticed...?

Suddenly, you felt incited and it made you angry. "That's none of your business," your voice carried a sharp edge, hissing. And you knew you were being a bit mean by adding, "You broke up with me, so why do you even care?"

In that moment, Megumi could've sworn his chest throbbed. Your cutting tone pierced directly into his heart, lodging itself there.

You had all rights to be annoyed, and he knew that. Why did that question even slip out of him?

"Nah, nevermind," he mumbled in response, looking away.

Awkwardness lingered afterwards. You hated this, but no, you weren't above being petty. He had broken your heart and it still stung even now. If your intentionally biting words did to him even a fraction of what he made you feel, then you would find a small sense of satisfaction in it.

But you weren't able to ponder about your mess of feelings further when Megumi abruptly yanked your arm, his voice soaking with urgency, "It's here!"

Sure enough, the grotesque cursed spirit with the shape of a giant bee broke through the walls with a bang. The two of you immediately readied your fighting stance. Megumi was ready with his divine dogs, while you with your cursed weapon.

For a while, you engaged the cursed spirit with all you had. You were trying to focus on the enemy, but you couldn't help but notice the way Megumi always looked at you every few seconds, checking for any signs of injury or harm.

Frankly speaking, he trusted your strength and knew that you were a capable sorcerer. You had been paired in a mission before and he knew both your potential and shortcomings. It was just there was something about this place that had his senses on high alert.

And his fears were proven true when you yelped and were flung onto the grimy floor. "Y/N!"

"I'm fine!" you shouted in a rush, scrambling to your feet. However, as you spun towards him, your scream tore through the hall as you caught sight of the bee lurking behind him. "Megumi!"

He got distracted. The bee quickly latched onto him and almost stung him, until he wrestled it off and summoned Nue and exorcised it.

You went to his side that instant. "Are you okay?!"

"I am." But then he winced and almost fell on his knees if you didn't have a secure grip on him. He savored your touch and breathed a sigh of relief, thinking that now you two were safe.

"Megumi! Oh god!" Panic surged through you as you pulled him close. His side was bleeding, and you widened your eyes at the sight.

"I'm okay, I promise," he rasped, looking you in the eyes. "What abo—"

Then you saw it, the flicker from deep from that corner of platform, and suddenly, you grasped the source of the unease that had been lingering within you all this time. It wasn't the bee Megumi had just exorcised—

At that moment, there was no room for thought, one thing was certain: you didn't want him to get hurt more.

He didn't manage to finish his sentence when suddenly you pushed him away with so much force he never thought you had. Everything crashed so suddenly, he didn't have the time to brace himself or grab you with him, as another cursed bee appeared out of nowhere and—

Reality flashed before his eyes as he stared at you in sheer horror. At how the cursed spirit tore your body, sinking its hollow stinger in you.

You didn't really know what happened next. Everything was muffled—the frantic movements around you turned into a blur, along with Megumi's yells. Otherworldly pain coursed through your entire being and your ears rang, then everything in your line of sight became distorted and faded, along with your consciousness. Next and the last thing you knew was Megumi's battered face, a final imprint before you succumbed to the void.

Megumi had exorcised the remaining cursed spirit and staggered to his feet—falling a few times, but he made his way towards you through gritted teeth. You are hurt. He forced himself to get to you and pull you into his arms.

And suddenly, suddenly, nothing mattered anymore as overwhelming terror consumed him upon seeing you. Blood streamed from your abdomen so much that it made a continuous pool.

"You stupid—!" He choked out, voice hitching. You were no longer conscious and it devastated him even more. "Hey, hey? Wake up—hells—"

You, who did everything you could to save your relationship. You, who cried tears for him when he blatantly broke your heart. And you, who put himself first—and now facing the consequences.

It crashed upon him in that very second, the clarity. What was he thinking back then? He still loves you.

"If you die on me, I won't forgive you."

Megumi scooped you in his arms, pressing you close to his chest, the blood seeping from his wound be damned as he looked at your serene face. His heart shattered in the worst way possible and he almost wheezed at the sticky sensation of your blood—and how lifeless you felt in his grasp—but he willed it away.

"Don't," his broken rasp echoed the walls as he took each step to get both of you out of this hellhole. He winced and hissed at his own injury, chewing his lip in frustration, at how helpless he was.

"Don't leave me."

It was like a distant, hazy memory.

Was it a memory though? No. It seemed far too real for that.

The throbbing headache pounding through your skull and shivers that wracked your body pulled you back to reality. There was a heavy pressure on your abdomen and any movement sent sharp pain shooting through you.

You gradually opened your eyes, squinting against the brightness. You were in a hospital gown, an IV was injected on your arm, and the sterile scent made your stomach twist, as nausea creeping through your guts. Your vision was still blurry as you tried to look around to find someone who waited for you. As you slowly turned your head to the side, you saw him, sitting in the chair right next your bed.

Megumi was sleeping in such uncomfortable position, his head resting on the edge of your bed. He appeared peaceful, almost childlike, devoid of his usual stoic demeanor.

Your heartstrings were tugged at this rare sight. He also sustained injuries and yet... he was waiting for you to wake up, here.

Your chest swelled with warmth, which was quickly followed by a sting of heartbreak. Still, you two broke up...

You jolted, and the inadvertent movement sent a wave of pain that seemed to paralyze your nerves, causing you to whimper. The noise woke Megumi from his slumber, as he shot his eyes open in alarm, catching your hand in his.

"Hey... Are you okay?" Megumi worriedly looked down at you with a visible frown, and the grimace of pain on your face, accompanied by trembling lips, was enough of an answer. He hastily scrambled out in slight panic, "I'll get Ieiri-san."

When Shoko came and got you the painkillers, your pain receded somewhat. Through it all, Megumi stood there, casting concerned glances in your way.

"Bedrest for the week," Shoko stated firmly, assessing your wound with a no-nonsense expression. "Your injury isn't minor—it's serious enough that you're strongly advised against excessive movement."

You could only nod in response. Megumi bowed. "Thank you, Ieiri-san." Once the doctor departed, silence settled over the room once more.

“Why did you do that?” he quietly asked then, referring to what you did for him. And when you turned to him, you saw it clearly.

He looked pale, and there was this haunted look in his eyes. It broke your heart a little.

"You were hurt." Your voice came out dry, and you realized firsthand just how parched you were. Seeing Megumi looking down never quite sat right with you. He was meant to be an unwavering presence, someone strong enough to sway your convictions.

However, a pang struck when he countered with stern eyes, "You didn't have to do that."

...he was right. You didn't have to. What he didn't know was that you were still holding on these stupid feelings, which drove you to shield him. It made you ponder: if your roles were reversed, would he not step in to protect you at all?

"Why are you here?" You weren't sure if the bitterness in your tone was evident, but you continued anyway. "You don't have to be here either."

"Don't have to?" His gaze bore disbelief, as if not believing your words. "I'm—"

"If it's because I saved you, Megumi—"

“Do not even think, even for a moment, that I won’t be concerned over you.” His voice, deep and hoarse, struck you to the core, silencing your words. “Never. I always, always want you to be safe.”

Your mind became a blank slate. Suddenly, all that mattered was his voice.

"Don't you realize how terrifying it was? Seeing you like that?" Megumi spat, his green eyes shining with intensity, teeth gritted and fists clenched. "How could you even think that I wouldn't be here—" his breath hitched, and then his lips trembled slightly, "—for you?"

You blinked quickly, a feeling stirred within you—stemming from that cursed, fragile heart of yours to be exact, evident from the rapid thumping in your chest.

You dumbly uttered, "But we are—"

"Oh, Goddamnit." Megumi cursed, and honestly you were taken aback. It wasn't really in him to swear, so this really bugged him. He ran a hand through his hair in frustration, and despite the situation, your heart skipped a beat at the sight. Even a mess in a hospital gown, your ex-boyfriend was still undeniably attractive.

He stared at you squarely in the eye, unflinching, steadfast and true, the very image of Fushiguro Megumi you admired from afar and fell in love with in the first place half a year ago. "You don't have to... say anything, if you don't want to. Right now... just hear me out."

And the things he said next... all of them, you could say, caught you entirely off guard.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry for not trying hard enough, and—damn it, for making you sad. I never, ever wanted to see you that upset."

Megumi drew in a sharp breath, averting his gaze. "And for days, I've wondered if you and Hakari-senpai are now a thing... and you know what? I hate it so much. I know I have no grounds to feel this way, after what I did, but..."

And like a train wreck, his final words hit you hard. Tears welled up in your eyes in immediate response.

“I'm a loser, and a coward too, maybe,” he shrugged, a tinge of self-deprecation in his tone. “And I suck at telling people my feelings, but I love you. I still do.”

A sob slipped out of your throat and you hastily pulled the blanket over your face, much to his surprise. He thought he had worsened things, with the way you were turning away from him.

But then, from beneath the blanket, in a croaky voice, you proclaimed, "Fushiguro Megumi, you're a complete and utter idiot."

And Megumi didn't know that he had been holding back his breath as he chuckled heartily, relieved that you would still take his ass back after this prolonged mess. He knew he still had a lot to make up for and was determined to show it through his actions.

"Maybe I am, yeah."

"That's possibly the longest shit you have ever spouted in one breath."

"Yeah..."

But he got his chance back, and he knew that you would be alright. Both of you are.

On one sunny day...

"Hey, are you alone?"

Megumi glanced up from his phone, only to be met with a random girl standing in front of him, batting her eyelashes with an ambiguous intent. He blinked at her curiously.

"No. Can I help you?"

The girl twirled her hair suggestively. "Ah, you see... I see you all in your lonesome and I think you're quite cute—"

The hell? Megumi frowned, and he was really about to give this bimbo a piece of his mind when—

Oh, oh. Forget that. Megumi's attention snapped to you on the opposite side of the crossroad. All pretty and dolled up with that crop tee and miniskirt he once mentioned would look great on you by a slip of tongue—that accidental comment earned him your teasing quips for weeks already.

"Sorry, I'm here for my girlfriend. Bye."

Abruptly dismissing the girl, he didn't catch how comically offended she was for being turned down in a span of 20 seconds. He took big strides towards you, as you crossed the street, and you immediately beamed when you caught the sight of his face.

"Megumi!"

Ah, this is going to be a good day, he thought. As he gazed at your pretty face, and caught your hand in his, clasping it tightly, reveling in your scent and the warmth of your presence beside him—

He was content, and once again it dawned on him, that he likes you so, so damn much.

"Let's get started on our date, shall we?"

6K notes · View notes

midnightwriter21 · 1 year

Text

demon slayer hcs: the hashira men as boyfriends

characters: tengen, sanemi, giyuu, rengoku, muichiro, obanai

AN: i don’t write for gyomei srry

TENGEN

- this isn’t just a little fling

-mans doesn’t wanna be ur bf

-he wants to be your HUSBAND

- and he’s gonna make that happen ASAP

- and when y’all get married you’re not just getting a husband

- ur getting 3 wives too

- it’s a package deal

- overprotective!!

- the way he made his wives promise to prioritize their lives over the mission

- my heart was bursting

- carries u around

- when tengen is around ur feet hardly ever touch the floor

- doesn’t matter how big or tall u are

- he’s bigger and taller

-he's big all over if ykyk

-nicknames include: sweetheart, princess, baby

- and don’t think he’s saying those to be cute

- he’s absolutely mocking you

-which brings me to…

- this man teases the HELL out of you

- but with love

- he loves you just as much as he loves his wives

- in his mind ur alrdy married

- and he is NOT letting you go

- or letting any harm come to you as long as he can help it

- 4 lifer fr

- id marry him

SANEMI

-i’ve said it before and i’ll say it again

-he’d tear it UP

-and i’d let him

- loves you so much

- doesn’t show it in public

- but in private?

- clingy as fUck

- he’s like ur shadow fr

- will follow u around all day

- hands on ur waist

- arm around ur shoulder

- holding ur hand

- he will not let go of u when ur alone

- in public he’s a lot less touchy

- but he will still stand near you

- jealous af

- every slayer knows by now to stay tf away from you or face the wrath of the wind pillar

- you belong to him

- makes sure they know it

- makes sure you know it

-hickey MASTER

-no i will not elaborate

- everybody knows sanemi is a little rough around the edges

- so there are days when it’s hard for him to open up to you

- but he does try

- he’s got a reputation to keep up!

-gotta act tough

-no weaknesses!!

- except for u

-he’s so soft for u he can’t help it

- nicknames: dumbass, idiot, & feather (my personal favorite)

-like i said he is almost always physically connected to u in some way when ur alone

-ignore him? he's throwing u over his shoulder

-he's strong he can manhandle u all over the place

-sheeeeeshhhhh manhandle me however u want sir

-claims ur super light no matter ur size

-hence the nickname "feather"

-i love him

GIYUU

-ik damn well this man had EVERONE in a chokehold from the first second he showed up

-speaking of chokeholds... ;)

-put me in one pls sir

-anyways

-awkward as fuck

-but he tries for u

-terrible with physical affection

-but we all know he's SOOO touch starved

-you'll have to initiate any type of physical touch

-and make sure he's not uncomfortable

-but really there's nothing he wants more than to touch you

-takes a very long time to say "i love you"

-but can u blame him??

-every good thing the poor man has ever had has been ripped away from him :(

-because of this he's veryyyy protective

-cause he'll be damned if the last person he has that accepts him and loves him for all he is

-is hurt or killed

-100% will die for u without a second thought

-not really a nickname type of guy

-remember he's awkward as hell

-most you'll get is a "-chan" attached to ur name

-and even that is only when y'all are alone

-but still

-even if he doesn't always show it

-you are always on his mind

-he's on a mission and walking through a market?

-he's buying you a hairpin or som

-walking through a forest and sees some flowers?

-"i wonder if she'll like these"

-AND HE'S PICKING U A BOUQUET

-ugh soft for bf giyuu

RENGOKU

-sunshine boy!!!

- epitome of golden retriever boyfriend

-all smiles all the time

-follows u around like lost puppy

-shows off for u

-yk when ur around kids and they're like "watch this" and then they jump and spin a circle lmao

-thats him

-"did you see what i just did?!"

-if u didnt...

-he's doing it again

-wants to impress you so bad

-also you will never have to lift a finger in his presence

-service bf!!

-you need the dishes washed and the floor swept?

-he's on it

-you need help styling ur hair?

-welcome to rengoku's hair salon

-will attempt to dress you in the morning

-and by dress you, i mean he's tugging ur shirt over ur head

-zipping up ur pants

-and tying ur shoes

-brags about you to anyone and everyone

-the other hashira can't have a single conversation with him without him bringing you up somehow

-compliments compliments compliments!!!

-he loves you and isn't afraid to show it

-nicknames from him: my love, my beautiful girl, sweetheart

-constantly confessing his love

-also lowkey speaks poetry for u

-some shit like

-"my light in the darkness, the one who gives me strength, you set my heart ablaze just by allowing me the privilege of seeing your smile"

-ugh he's the sweetest baby

MUICHIRO

-my airheaded angel baby

-i love him sm stop

-baby boy has a terrible memory

-that we alrdy knew

-but!

-he tries so hard for you

-keeps a little journal with notes and information about you

-so if he forgets he can remind himself over and over

-when he's on missions away from you he reads it so he can think about you to pass the time

-can not and will not remember anniversaries

-unless they're written in that journal

-will pick u flowers

-hope ur not allergic cause he's not gonna remember that

-but it's the thought that counts

-the fact that he's thinking about you at all counts

-you wanna go on a date?

-your dates consist of watching the clouds and taking naps together

-maybe a picnic if ur lucky

-no nicknames from him

-he calls you by your name

-its all he can remember

-he's the cutest

OBANAI

-like sanemi, he's a lot less affectionate in public

-however, he's not afraid to express his thoughts about you

-at least not to the other hashira

-might not be glued to your side

-but he's got eyes on u at all times

-and someone is talking about you?

-the second he hears ur name leave somebodies mouth

-he's tuned in

-and they better not say anything negative either

-mans turns murderous

-they will wake up to a snake in their bed

-will prob threaten them within an inch of their life

-don't have to worry abt other people while he's around

-cause he's got everything

-and i mean EVERYTHING taken care of

-protective but not pushy

-i feel like obanai trusts you and your ability to handle yourself

-but thats not gonna stop him from watching over you

-you're not drinking enough water?

-here comes obanai with a cup and u better drink it all

-haven't had lunch yet?

-he's sharing his with you. and will force feed u if need be.

-on a mission with him?

-he's not gonna push u behind him or anything

-but nothing is gonna get the chance to bring any harm to you either

-he's got ur back

-he's pretty vanilla with the nicknames

-nothing too crazy

-especially in public

-mostly uses ur first name

-might add a "-chan" in there every once in a while

-when ur alone he'll call you "sweetie"

-acts like a hard ass

-but he's soft for u

#demon slayer #anime #demon slayer x reader #kny x reader #kimetsu no yaiba x reader #giyuu x reader #obanai x reader #sanemi x reader #muichiro x reader #rengoku x reader #tengen x reader #tengen uzui #giyuu tomioka #obanai iguro #muichiro tokito #rengoku kyojuro

12K notes · View notes

saintels · 1 month

Text

NSFW 18+

“come here.”

tears of embarrassment spill from your eyes. all you wanted to do was hang out with your girlfriend and now you’re standing here naked in front of her and her roommate.

you know that (soccer captain) ellie reserves every sunday to sit in the living room with her roommate and co-captain abby to drink beer and watch soccer.

“this is important, babe. we watch these other college teams play so we know what we’re up against when we play them!” is her excuse as you sit in the corner like a kicked puppy while her and abby sit in front of the tv, taking no notes whatsoever and talking about outside gossip. you make a fuss almost every sunday.

this sunday in particular being the hardest, you’d gone a week without ellie touching you due to you both having your periods as well as ellie being away for a soccer camp in a different state.

which is what led you here.

you didn’t mean to be a brat or greedy like ellie had said. you just wanted to see her after being away from her for a week.

she extends her hand to you.

“come. here.”

you stand in front of them both, twiddling your thumbs. you can feel abby’s eyes intensely staring you down, large palms splayed on her cargos. you didn’t want to upset your friend anymore than you’d had.

you take ellie’s hand and she guides you to straddle her thigh. your face burns with embarrassment and you turn your head away from both girls.

“why so shy all of a sudden?” she taunts, “didn’t seem that shy when you wanted us to hear you moaning from the bedroom.”

you stare at her blankly.

“come on baby,” she coaxes you, hands on your hips as she begins to rock you on her thigh, “you wanted this to be all about you, you were so selfish for attention that you ruined mine and abby’s sunday. you might as well give us something better to watch.”

you hide your face in ellie’s neck, shaking your head and murmuring something into her skin.

“what’s that?” she quips, “you don’t want abby to watch?”.

tears spill from your eyes as you look towards abby. her head is tilted and resting on her hand that’s propped on the back of the sofa, her brows furrowed.

“i think it’d be pretty selfish of me to watch this all for myself, i mean you ruined abby’s day too, didn’t you?”

abby too fakes a subtle look of disappointment. you look towards ellie again and she nods. abby laces her fingers with yours and you feel warm as she smiles softly, her thumb gently stroking your knuckles. she nods for you to start again.

“that’s it, baby.”

you roll and grind you hips down onto ellie’s thigh, slick juices staining her pants. you string out long moans and choruses of profanity as the friction causes burning that coils in your stomach and spread through you to the tips of your toes. they curl and almost cramp with how tight you’re tensed.

ellie’s rough hands grab your hips, helping you carry out your orgasm as you begin to lose momentum. her rough lips clash against yours to muffle your moans, tongue deep in your mouth. abby watches with parted lips and a pink face as you pulled back from ellie, a string of saliva dripping down from your shiny, drool covered lips. without even thinking, you press your lips to abby’s wrapping your arm tightly around her bulging bicep. large palms meet your jaw as she kisses you like she’s been hungry for it.

you moan into her mouth as you cream all over ellie’s pants, body shaking and falling limp in abby’s arms. ellie laughs, wiping the drool from the side of your lips with the rough pad of her thumb.

“i think we’ve found something better for us to watch on sunday’s.”

IM BACK AND IVE GOT A FIC THATS WAITING TO BE QUEUED. inbox open.

#BRAINROT #help this is so bad #i had an idea and butchered it #ellie williams #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams smut #ellie williams x you #abby anderson #abby anderson smut #abby anderson x reader #smut #the last of us #ii #lesbian #wlw #wlw smut

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cashmoneyyysstuff · 2 months

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i dunno man all m’thinkin about is desperate kisses with your best friend (now boyfriend cus ion play that) katsuki..drools..

..like, let’s say it’s a few weeks after you’ve moved into the dorms and his..encounter with the league. you jumped at the first opportunity to save him and to this day he still heavily scolds you for it, but you don’t think you’ll ever be able to forget the way he gripped you oh so tightly, the way he shoved his head in your hair when he’d seen you again after days of being unsure of when he’d get that chance again.

and you can’t lose him. not again, you just can’t. so you gripped him just as tight.

you’re constantly—constantly glued to him. katsuki doesn’t mind cus he also starts wanting you near him more than before, constantly needing to be there so he can keep you out of harms way. but he realizes one night while you’re lounging around on the couch before bed how tired you are. he can see, it’s clear in your eyes when you take a second too long to process and respond to dunce faces jokes. it’s clear in the way your eyes aren’t fully focused when you look up at him and smile. it’s cute, it’s bright, but it’s not fully you. and he feels his heart clench.

you’re dozing off at his side when he taps at your hip, forcing you to awaken and he presses his lips to your temple casually to speak against it quietly. “s’time for bed.” you grumble a bit and he has to hold back a chuckle. he groans and lifts himself up “alright. up, c’mon.” though he doesn’t give you the time to get up because he picks you up over his shoulder. your eyes fly open when he readjusts you and you squeal when he practically bounds off to your room, his only good night to your friends being “where goin’ to bed.” and him telling them to not stay up too long cus he doesn’t wanna hear denki whine about how tired he is the next morning. you hear said boy make kissy noises as your boyfriend carries you away and he scoffs under his breath.

you’ve made it to your room, he lays you down so, so gently onto your bed and your eyes meet. you're tired and so is he, but you both see the other’s tiredness completely different from your own. katsuki’s eyes are the same, but there’s a tiredness in them that wasn’t there before. like he’s been asking himself too many questions before going to bed and it’s kept him up at night, despite him maintaining that insane sleep schedule of his. he looks tired and your heart clenches. you reach up for his cheeks instinctively and he’s drawn towards you without you so much as pulling him closer.

he’s so, so soft and he leans in closer and closer till his lips press so softly to the top of your head “go to sleep.” he whispers against it. but when he pulls away you still haven’t stopped looking at each other and your hands are on his face again. because you’ve gotten this sudden surge of feelings and he’s here and you missed him so much, so you pull him closer and kiss him and he immediately melts into you.

he was tired a second ago, and he still is yet he feels almost rejuvenated when he plants his palms next to your head onto your pillows. when he climbs into your bed to hover over you because he could not be further away from you and he needs you close, he needs to feel you. he needs to be able to taste your skin and breathe your air and feel your warmth so his hands trail lower to wrap your legs around his waist and you do, because you need the same thing he does.

“katsu..” you whimper, and he shushes you so softly when you wrap your arms around his neck tightly, almost shushing himself because he just can’t stay away from you for too long. “m’here baby, m’right here.”

tears well up in your eyes and it’s all you can do to tug softly at his hair just to hear him grumble softly, just to hear him, to make sure he’s here.

“can you stay ? please, stay ?” you’re so sleepy, you don’t even know if you’re asking him to stay the night here or if you’re begging him not to leave you again but he nods anyway. “always will, sweets. always will, promise. promise it to ya.” he babbles as he keeps kissing you and keeps kissing and keeps kissing you because he’s so tired and he missed you so much.

he knows he’ll have to sneak off early in the morning, but he doesn’t care since he wakes up early anyways. but it’ll wake you up too and you’re tired, so it pisses him off. you feel a bit selfish because you know he’ll have to leave a little bit earlier and you want him to sleep, but a bigger greedier part of you wants him to sleep here with you. so you wrap your arms around him tightly and the last thing you feel before your eyes close being the feeling of his lips on you.

..so yeah, just y’know..desperate kisses w katsu on the brain.

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makelemonade · 2 months

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Things they do when they're in love but haven't realized it yet

Characters; Aether, Albedo, Alhaitham, Ayato, Childe, Cyno, Diluc, Dottore, Itto, Neuvillete, Thoma, Pantalone.

Warnings; GN!Reader, mentions of pretty/handsome, cologne/perfume, the notebook (that movie killed me It's a warning I can't), mentions of crying, mentions of past injuries, annoying kids, lowk stalking in childe's part LOOL

under the cut!

Aether- Notices every physical and mental detail about you more than the average person.

He notices the way there’s a slight limp in your walk due to a past injury, and he can notice when you also try to hide it.

He notices how each day you always try a new hairstyle because you thrive for praise and compliments. Of course because you’re so loved, everyone compliments you, and he notices the way that when he does too, you’re more flustered than usual.

He knows you start to tap your finger down on any platform whenever you’re feeling nervous or even zoning out. He also notices that when you get annoyed, you bite your lip to hold back anything.

He knows that whenever you’re lectured at or given a talking-down to, you try to hide your tears, but the side of your lip trembles. He knows that once your alone within your own privacy, you let the tears fall. He’s literally seen you catch them with your mouth once.

He notices that whenever he gives you some sort of gift, you’re at a loss for words and you don’t know whether you want to make the first move after months of pining.

He notices, so now maybe he can act on it.

Alhaitham- Starts to read books or watch movies/shows he’s heard you talk about.

He spends most of his time in libraries, looking around for anything that piques his interest. He notices the title of a book, something you’ve mentioned before.

You both have complete opposite tastes, but maybe romance books could do him some good.

Since then, he’s been looking around libraries for every book he’s heard you mention. He even starts to write down a list.

Shows and movies as well. On a rainy day that he stays in his home and his roommate isn’t being annoying, he likes to lounge on his couch and watch something.

He notices once again another title you’ve mentioned; The Notebook.

No hesitation, he decides to watch it, and by the end, he’s nearly crying.

“Are you crying?” His roommate asks.  “Shut up!”

At some point he brings up that he’s watched almost all the movies and read all the books you’ve mentioned and you don’t know if he was genuinely bored and did so or because he really was interested in you.

Your thoughts are answered when he asks if you want to go see a romance movie coming out.

Albedo- Starts to become mesmerized when he watches you study or work

He loves the way you look so focused- the way your nose scrunches up when you get confused at a question or really anything, or how when you feel lost, your hand moves up to your cheek as you just stare down at the question.

You’re so focused to the point that sometimes you forget he’s even there but in fully honesty- he doesn’t care. As long as he can stare at you without you noticing, he’s fine with it.

Sometimes, he forgets about his own work. You just look so pretty when you’re focused- he wishes it was on him.

At some point, the staring becomes too obvious and you look up ti find him just staring at you, and his face comes of one of surprise when he sees he’s been caught.

“W-would you like some help?” He asked, nothing your nose had scrunched up just seconds ago.

You smiled. “Yes, please.”

Ayato- Seeing you with kids makes him feel something.

He sees how you treat kids with such kindness and adoration- as if you’ve met your favourite hero. Whenever you take strolls, you love to stop by the park and push some kids on the swings; It’s to the point all the parents know you and the kids love you.

Whenever you hear a child cry, you get sad. Whenever you hear a child laugh, it makes you smile- It makes him smile too, being honest.

He loves how you’re so attentive to them, that one day when one of the kids falls and scrapes his knee and starts to cry, you’re immediately there comforting them, putting a bandaid on their knee and telling them it’ll be all better.

You pretend to play “shop” with the kids to the point even he is dragged in by one of them.

“Are you two married?” One of the children ask one day, which then causes a bombard of questions from the rest while they all say things like

“Is he nice?”

“Does he treat you well?”

“You two are sooo perfect!”

“Can he play with us more?”

Ayato only smiles at you and you smile back.

Childe- He always looks for you in a public setting

Whenever he goes out, whether it to be to run errands, go somewhere with his brother or just something for work, he always wondering if you’ll be there.

Most of the time you aren’t- it’s a small chance you’d be at a random toy shop that his brother was non-stop talking about, but he’s always on the lookout.

Parties that friends invite him too, he always asks if you’ll be there or he’ll just look for you the moment he arrives, praying and hoping to God that you’ll be there.

Maybeeee it’s stalking, but he starts to go to places he’s heard you mention in hope of seeing you. Even if it’s a place he has no reason to be at, he’ll still go.

For the first time one day, instead of him noticing you and going up to you, you’re the first to notice him and go up to him, starting a conversation.

Cyno- He always wants to make you laugh

He sucks at making jokes- he knows this, everyone knows this, but it always makes him feel warm inside whenever you let out a giggle or a loud cackle at his jokes- even If they were horrible or made sense, something about it always lightened you up.

So, even though everyone else hates it, he continues to go with them, just in hopes of hearing you giggle- it’s so cute!

He’ll even start to think of new jokes, new types of humour just for you, and he’ll always go with the ones that make you laugh the most.

He may update his whole humour for you, but who cares!

Then, he notices that you started using his own jokes, which makes him cackle just as loud as you.

Diluc- Nicknames

If anyone were to ever call Diluc something other than his name, he’d lost his shit. EVERYONE knew this, and not even Kaeya would test him- the closest he’s ever used a nickname was “Luc” and Diluc was ready to fight him.

But you, well, he just doesn’t seem to care. Whether it be Luc, Didi, Lulu, and even pookie, he’s completely fine with it.

Everyone knows he has to has something for you, but he doesn’t even realize it himself. It just brings a warm feeling to his face when he hears a nickname come out of your mouth.

Then one day, he randomly starts to call you nicknames, and you feel the same warmth he does.

Dottore- Drops anything for you

Dottore is a hard-working man. He hardly takes breaks, and he’s always up to something. So, it’s hard to speak to him on most days, that it even makes you upset as his friend.

His coworker mentions something about you being upset and he immediately puts down any work he’s holding and asks where you are. He would never do that for anyone, but you? He didn’t know why, but he just felt the need to be at your side.

He tells you to text him whenever you need something, and he’ll answer. He just won’t answer the other 100 texts from other people and continue to leave them on delivered.

You’re bored? Come work with him. You’re hungry? Go get some food together. It’s to the point that work is no longer his main priority.

You ask him one day if he’d like to go to dinner, and before you could finish your sentence about knowing he was a hard working man and was never free, he immediately says yes.

Itto- Anything that smells like you reminds him of you

Itto has a good nose- it’s a blessing and a curse.

When it comes to smelling something similar to you, whether it be your shampoo, conditioner, body wash, cologne, perfume or mist, he considers it to be a blessing.

He could be anywhere really; In a random shop, and if someone walks by and has the SLIGHTEST smell smilier to yours, he’ll almost think its you and now all he can think about is you.

It’s to the point it becomes his favourite smell, and he finds himself buying items similar.

You notice his efforts, and give him a gift one day. It was full of everything you used to smell the way you do.

He’ll use it everyday.

Neuvillete- The way you act doesn’t bother him

The Iudex was not a patient man. Anyone who acted immaturely, whether it be like a child or an insolent teenager, he’ll became so annoyed.

But you? Act however you want, he does not care. Instead, he’ll just laugh, enjoying your antics.

You’re acting like a child? Okay, not his problem, he’s fine with it. But if Furina came in here acting like a child he’d kick her out in and instant. Even if a literal child came in he’d kick them out in an instant.

He finds himself finding comfort in the way you act sometimes. He doesn’t know how to explain it, but he thinks it’s the fact he knows you’re comfortable enough near him to act the way you do.

Then one day, you decide to be calm for a day, and sit and talk with him normally, and even if it’s a change, he’s still happy nonetheless.

Thoma- Everything reminds him of you.

The flowers? They’re as pretty/handsome as you.

The window? Sometimes he imagines you’re outside.

The floor? He’ll remember both of you hiding out at parties and sitting on floors.

Money? He’ll remember the time you bought him lunch because he forgot his wallet and you refused to let him pay you back.

The sky? It brings him comfort to know you both see the same sky.

The stars? As bright as you.

He gets a gift from you one day, telling him that It reminded you of him, and he could only give a heartfelt laugh.

Pantalone- Whatever you look at, you’ll find it within your belongings in the next week.

He’s a perceptive, rich man. You may only be friends but he loves to spoil you.

He sees you staring at a necklace for over 2 seconds? Bought immediately, and of course he’ll place it around your neck.

Trinkets you think look cool? The next time you both hang out at your hose, you’ll mysteriously find it within your home.

If you have an event coming up and he hears you describe what you’d like to wear, he’ll be looking through every store and buying whatever is similar to the description.

He stares at flowers, wondering if he should give them to you or if it was weird. He’s heard you talk about wanting flowers once, but maybe not now

Yet he is met with you holding out the same flowers to him 2 days later, stating you saw him staring at them for quite a while.

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plutoswritingplanet · 2 months

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Hand That Feeds (Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x Female!Reader)

a/n: as promised, here's the full chapter. as a person who's only played skyrim and oblivion, writing for fallout is like throwing a hot dog into an empty corridor (i will not elaborate)

Warnings: Suggestive Themes, Attempted Kidnapping, Medical Malpractice, Cooper is a mean old man with a boner. Takes place before the events of the TV series.

Summary: The Ghoul takes up a bounty that has been gathering dust for quite some time. You, bored out of your mind, decide getting kidnapped might be the perfect way to entertain yourself. Both of you bite off more than you can chew. Cross-Posted on AO3

PT. 2

Copper knows this job will be different, before he even decides to take it up.

Scribbled with flaky charcoal, your face looks at him from the notice board every time he delivers a bounty. For months now, a humble title of "The Healer" hangs without change, between criminals, raiders, and people who were in the wrong place, at the wrong time.

Cooper hasn't considered going for you, it was never his first choice. The bounty on your head was moderately low, in comparison to your notice board neighbors. He had other priorities, bigger than a smeared over pretty face, for half his usual reward.

Until one day, as he stomped his way through the dusty floor, his eyes caught onto your wanted poster yet again.

Well, to be frank, his eyes strayed towards your portrait almost every time he crossed the threshold, but he would never admit it to anyone, let alone himself. Like a constant companion, overlooking all his accomplishments since he decided to stick around the place, your empty gaze followed every transaction, every head delivered onto the table. Some semblance of a routine, he supposed, looking over the board.

There, under the regular information, freshly painted numbers stared back at him. A new bounty, significantly bigger than any reward on the board. The red paint was still dripping down the yellowed paper, the addition must've been made quite recently.

A hefty price. One, that would supply him with enough chems to last for half a year at least. Tempting. Especially now, that he's down to only a couple of vials, his coughing fits becoming longer and closer between. So tempting, in fact, that he tears your wanted poster from the board, finally getting a closer look, a deliberate one.

Booker gives him a raised eyebrow, all the commentary needed, encapsulated in this simple gesture, and Cooper shoots him a nasty look. There aren't many requirements regarding the job, except one, annoying detail.

You have to be alive and in good condition.

Now, alive Cooper could do. Alive is easy. Good condition, however, opened a whole shitbag of problems, which he would be a fool to overlook. Still, the prospect of such money couldn't be ignored. And, he'd be damned to admit it, but he was curious. Who were you? Why haven't you been caught for such a long time? What caused this sudden raise in bounty?

- Did you piss someone off that bad, little lady? - he asks the yellowed paper, and gets no answer, as expected.

***

The bar is filled with patrons, all tripping over themselves to loose as many caps on cheap alcohol and chems from under the table. It's not as rowdy, as one would expect. This settlement must be one of the few more civilized ones, for the Wasteland's standards at least. Farmers, mechanics, shopkeepers, they all clam together, smelling of smoke, sweat, and alcohol.

You're here too, hunched over your drink with a sour expression. Your shoulders are slumped, covered by a piece of cloth, that used to be a shawl, but currently looks more like a rag used to wipe down countertops. Despite that, Cooper sees in the way your body is poised, taunt and graceful, that you're neither a naive Vault Dweller, nor a scruffy raider. A skinny scarf is tied around your neck in a fashion, that reminds Cooper of the old westerns he used to star in.

The sudden influx of memories is neither wanted, nor useful, and he clicks his teeth in annoyance at his own betraying mind.

The Healer, he thinks to himself, making his way through the crowds, until he reaches the side of the bar, one seat from you. Not a glance is spared in his direction. The townsfolk must be used to seeing Ghouls run around the place. Still, when he orders a glass of moonshine, out of the corner of his eye, he can see you peaking at him with curiosity. There's a intelligent glint in your eye, and Cooper feels a shiver of curiosity climbing up his back. He scolds himself for being too old imediately after.

By all that's holy, you look tired. And not the kind of tired, that sticks to a person living in the Wastelands, no. It's the exhaustion of a shitty day, dragging your eyelids down to flutter against creeping up sleep. The alcohol can't be helping your state, however, it will most definitely help Cooper. He almost feels sorry for you, but if your dumb enough to leave yourself in the open like that, while being hunted, there's nothing more he can do but take advantage.

Cooper turns his face ever so slightly towards you, looking over your expression for any signs of recognition. He sees none, more than that, there is no emotion at all, not even a blink at his fucked up face. Raising his hand, he touches the rim of his hat in a wordless greeting.

That finally wrenches some resemblance of a reaction out of you, and with a blink, you tip your glass towards him, before downing its contents. Your cheeks are flushed, lips wet with remnants of moonshine and there's a lock of hair falling out of place, and damn it, Cooper suddenly feels so old.

Ordering drinks while in your current state wasn't the most intelligent thing you could've done. The harsh taste of alcohol burned your throat in a way that was less than pleasant, and for a moment you consider turning to some good old chems for help with... Well everything really.

It started with Old Lady Sal.

You've replaced her hip a while back with some scrap metal and a fuckload of reused body parts. Now, every other day she demands you check it out, make sure it's in working order. Which it always is. This isn't your first replaced hip, you know what you're doing.

Then, you had to sit through the insanely uncomfortable marriage offer from Old Lady Sal's grandson, who is not only dumb as a bag of rocks, but also fourteen.

And to top it all off, suddenly everyone needs you to solve their particular pains of the day. There must be an epidemic of aching heads sweeping through the town, because as soon, as you flee from Old Lady Sal's home, you're being hounded by everyone and their mother, looking to you for help. You were in town for two hours, and your herbs reserve went down to one fucking leaf.

The Ghoul keeps looking at you from under his hat, and at this point it's gotten from uncomfortable, to straight up creepy. You were not about to pretend this stranger's interest in your particular person didn't unnerve you. Although, thanks to your mother's efforts, and later your own, the town practically worshipped the ground you walked on, the same could not be said about the rest of the Wasteland.

You had enemies. You had people, who would love to get their hands on you. You were also deeply aware of the bounty placed on your person. Last you checked, it was quite small, but Ghouls don't have it easy out there, and if there's anyone looking like a bounty hunter in this fine establishment, it's the shady guy giving you a shameless once-over.

So, you place a couple of caps on the counter, and gather yourself best you can.

Perhaps drinking on an empty stomach was not the best idea, because as soon as you slide off the barstool, your head does a flip. Your balance completely off, you trip over your own feet, already accepting the floor, as your soon-to-be companion.

That's when something strangely warm wraps itself around your waist, hoisting you up against the counter. The Ghoul smells just about as pleasant as one would expect, but moonshine is a powerful sedative, and instinctually, you lean into the warm embrace. Eyelids flutter, as you look up into the sunken eyes of your savior, and you can see his throat move, as he swallows thickly.

- Careful now, sweetheart - the voice is low and reminds you of wind whistling through leaves - Gotta keep you in good condition.

Now, if you were completely sober, or at least less drunk, those words would fire an orchestra of alarm bells in your head. Instead, you smile, teeth on full display, as you reach up, to undo a tattered scarf from around your neck.

- Mmm - you sigh, throwing the piece of cloth across the Ghoul's shoulders - My hero.

Then, you grab onto his arm, still holding a tight grip around your waist, and lift it up by the sleeve of his coat. Despite your drunken disposition, you duck under the limb gracefully, and shoot the Ghoul a nasty, fully aware smirk. Realization flickers across his face, but before he can move to catch you, a series of body-wrecking coughs shakes his entire frame.

You hesitate just for a second. The instinct to help is ingrained into your very being, passed down like a mantle from your angel of a mother. But then, self-preservation kicks in, and as the strager reaches into the pocket of his coat, to find his inhaler, you're already out the door, throwing yourself into a mad dash towards your cabin.

You were drunk, not stupid.

***

The sun has barely had time to rise, when you're rudely awoken by the sound of a fist, pounding desperately on your front door. Hard enough to make the hinges squeak and shake.

It tears you from your already light sleep, and you scramble to your feet, hastily pulling a shirt over your head, as you make your way towards the entrance. Hand on your pistol, you look out through the small space between two planks, which make up your door.

It's not hard to understand what is happening. You remember one of the men standing outside your door from the nearby town. Benny or something like that, you were never good at remembering names. Hanging on his arm was another, barely breathing man, who was currently bleeding out right onto your porch. Pete. This one you recognize as a farmer and a hunter. You've treated multiple bites and scratches on him. So did your mother.

Cursing under your breath, you undid all the makeshift locks with record speed, throwing the door open.

- I'm sorry to bother your so early in the morning Healer - you wince at the title, already making a beeline for the table in your kitchen - Pete and I were just...

Both men follow you closely behind, Pete's boots making a disgusting, sloshing noise.

- Put him here, face up - you command, throwing a couple of papers to the floor.

- ...Coming back from a night hunt, and this fucking Ghoul was asking around town about you...

- Cut his shirt - another command, thrown over your shoulder, as you begin to rummage through a cabinet filled with chemicals and various herbs, barely registering the words.

- ...And when we started asking questions back at him, he just shot Peter, right then and there...

You pluck a couple of twisted, dried herbs into your trusty, stone mortar, spitting into it, to gather some moisture. Throwing a semi-clean rag at the man, your voice cuts through his rambling.

- Put pressure on it.

There is no exit wound, and you almost sigh with annoyance at the prospect of fishing out a bullet. It had to be done, however, putting your sleep depriation and a building headache aside, you scoop out some of the herbal paste with your fingers, before pushing past the man.

- Hold his legs down - you mutter, taking a blink-and-you-miss-it moment to check Pete's temperature.

- ...Thankfully, he didn't kill Pete on the spot, so I brought him here straight away.

Pete flinches on the table, as you apply the paste to the wound. That's about as big of a reaction he's capable of, given the amount of blood he just spilled onto your porch. Another thing to clean up, after you take care of the table. What a way to start a fucking day. You can see his eyes follow your movements, barely conscious, but still alive. Sweat beads and gathers at his brow, and you reach out with a clean rag, to dab it off his skin.

Then, as if coming out of a stupor, your eyebrows scrunch together. The story of this faithful encounter finally registering in your brain.

- A man was asking about me? - you ask, despite already knowing the answer.

- Well, kinda. A Ghoul.

You knew which Ghoul, it was not difficult to piece together.

- And he didn't kill Pete, just injured him - you can feel another headache brewing just behind your eyes, as the sheer stupidity of the man in front of you finally comes to the surface.

They led him to you.

Three, steady knocks to your door, smug and confident, interrupt the conversation, and deep down you can see the future of every person present in this cabin. As if you've developed some magical powers.

Stilling your suddenly trembing hands, you settle the mortar back on the table. Thenyou instruct the man to keep pressure once more. Covering yourself with a robe you got as payment for stitching up a sliced finger, you make your way to the door. Fabric flows around your feet, shuffling like the wings of a moth.

Your eyes flicker to the side, where, placed against a wall, stands a small end table. Under it, you've hidden a rather large kitchen knife, and for a second you debate, whether going for it now would be the best course of action. Call it dumb optimism, but deep down, you pray this is some big misunderstanding, and you'll be allowed to go back to your patient, preferably sooner than later.

There's no need to bother with a gun, no time too. Pete is bleeding out faster than a stuck pig, and you were not one to leave your customers unsatisfied. Or, in this particular line of work, dead.

The door opens with a slam. There's a small indent in the wooden wall, where the door handle has hit the surface. The cabin is slowly entering the state of ruin, although, some places are more taken care of than others. Still, it has a roof, a semi intact entrance and even a window with actual glass in it. Quite the luxury in the Wastelands.

Cooper didn't know what to expect, not really. Seeing you for the first time gave him a mixture of varying feelings, as well as a rather uncomfortable throbbing in the nether regions. Who could blame him, really? Your wanted poster gave you no favors, and although he was able to recognize you almost immediately, he still felt slightly short of breath.

He scolds himself for getting distracted by his thoughts, and as your eyes lock down on him, he lifts the barrel of his gun, touching the rim of his hat. Your eyes shift like little sparkling gems onto the weapon, before your jaw locks.

- Salutations Ma'am - his voice is rough from lack of use, the southern twang even more prominent, than usual. - I believe our introduction was cut short.

Yellowed teeth flash in a mirthless smirk, and then his expression tightens.

Cooper is used to people reacting, let's say, negatively towards him. Fear is the most common, and he can't blame the masses, he really can't. Disgust, as well, happens quite often. But as he looks over your feverish gaze, he can't really see either one of the emotions.

No, what you give him is an annoyed roll of your eyes, and he's surprised to say, it bothers him more than he'd be comfortable admitting. He's a goddamned bounty hunter, a ruthless one at that, and a fucking Ghoul. Fuck you mean, you're annoyed by his presence?

- Look - you're already turning away from him, shooting a look towards your kitchen, where he can see a leg twitch in a spasm on top of your table - I ain't got time for whatever this is - your hands wave around in Cooper's general direction. - You'll have to wait your turn.

- Ah, well, I'm not the patient kind.

A squeak of surprise leaves you, as the Ghoul pushes past your body, entering your house gun first, murder clear in his deep set eyes. His steps take him through your living room, dangerously close to your kitchen. You know exactly, what's going to happen, and your arms shoot out on instinct. His body is unnaturally warm, even through layers of clothing, as you wrap yourself around his waist, tugging him back with all your might.

He looks down on you, more bothered by the sudden contact, than the fact you're trying to stop him. It gives you a small leverage, and you push him back a couple of steps, settling yourself between the entrance to the kitchen, and the bounty hunter, raising your hands and getting ready to fight.

- I don't have time for this kinda bullshit. Git. - Cooper snarls at you, his gun-free hand coming up to grab at your hair.

Before you have time to react, five fingers twist hard into your roots, and you stifle a scream, as the Ghoul pushes you off of him. On instinct, your hands come up to tug against his wrist, nails digging into the leathery skin. He lets you go with a hiss, and you use that second, to throw yourself towards the end-table.

Your fingers find the handle with a practiced ease. Then, your body twists like a radioactive viper, and all Cooper sees is a flash of metal. The blade is rusty and chipped, but it could still do some damage. Especially now, that it's pressed against Cooper's jugular, the dull, cold presence halting all his movements. Your eyebrows raise in small recognition at the thin fabric tied around his neck. The scarf. Your mouth goes dry.

- Everything okay back there? - Benny asks from the kitchen, you can hear his approaching footsteps.

- All's well, kee pressure on the wound - your voice is tight with nerves, but the man obeys.

Cooper watches your face carefully, his gun tucked neatly into the meat of your stomach, ready to fire, should the situation escalate. You can feel it, pressed right into the hollow space under your spleen, a good place to be shot, if you could even say that. You're dealing with a professional, apparently.

- We seem to have a bit of a conundrum on our hands, little lady - Cooper drawls, voice bordering on a whisper, his eyes follow the way your tongue darts out to lick your chapped lips.

- I have a patient, he needs help - you explain in an even tone, breathing shallow - After that, I'll deal with you.

Despite being at a loosing position, you refuse to back down, your eyes glued to the Ghoul in front of you. You're bracing yourself for the imminent pain, should he decide shooting you would be easier, but it never comes. Instead, the barrel of the gun presses further into your flesh, before lightly retracting. The cold metal is dragged up, across the expanse of your stomach. You bite the inside of your cheek, and surpress a shiver, when it travels between the swell of your breast, and settles into the dip of your collarbones.

You swallow thickly, Cooper's eyes catching the movements of your trachea like a hungry vulture. The tip of the gun touches the underside of your chin, pushing your head to one side, then the other, as if the bounty hunter is taking inventory in a butcher's shop. Once he's had his fill, he lifts the gun completely, raising his hands as a peace offering.

- Git - you whisper back at him, and a flash of something rushes through his mangled expression.

You take a step back, chest rising in falling rapidly, blade still in front of you, just in case. Then another step, and the bounty hunter dusts off his coat, before sitting down on a stool in your cluttered living room. You don't like the way he looks at you, eyes shining from under his hat, as he occupies your space like it belongs to him. Long legs apread in front of him, and you try very hard not to sneak a peak between them. Finally, you cross the entrance to the kitchen, and the knife is tucked under the leather belt of your pants.

A sigh, a roll of shoulders, and you're off.

Cooper watches with curiosity, as you immediately start to work on the poor bastard stuck on your table. Your back is taunt, hands bloodied but steady, as you lean down to take the metal bullet out of the wound. The herbal paste you've provided earlier has dried up, and is currently working wonders for the bleeding, while you reach inside with not-so-sterile pliers.

- Hold him down - he hears you say, as the legs on the table start to twitch again.

Finally, a metallic sound of the bullet hitting a dish is heard, and you stand up, making your way towards the cabinet filled with chems. There is a grace to your movements Cooper wasn't expecting. Reminds him of dancers, ballet ones.

Back in the day, his ex-wife would drag him to all those ballet shows, ones that made him feel stupid and uncultured. He swallows around the memory, willing it to die down, as you shoot him a cautious look over your shoulders.

He wiggles his gun at you lightly, a reminder, that all this is happening because of his good humor. You scoff.

Pete starts screaming as soon, as you begin to dress the wound properly. Chemical smell fills the air, and although Cooper lacks the nose to feel it, his eyes water all the same. You seem to be unbothered, years of doing this exact job must've hardened your senses. Finally, it's done. There's nothing more you can do for the man, and you wipe your hand on your forehead, leaving a large smear of red.

- He'll be fine - you mutter towards the other man in the kitchen - He needs rest, and a loads of it too.

A couple of small bottles and dried herbs land onto a checkered cloth, and you tie it closed, like a small care package.

- Dress his wounds twice a day - you press the package into the other man's hands while he helps his partner off the table - Good luck.

Cooper glares at the men, as they stagger out the front door. They don't seem to pay him any mind. Well, the shot one definitely doesn't, he can barely walk on his own. His friend is too preoccupied with keeping him on his arm, to even acknowledge that this whole situation was orchestrated by Cooper himself. Or perhaps, he's to stupid to connect the dots. It's hard to tell these days.

The door closes with a click, and Cooper stands up from his stool, sauntering over to the kitchen.

You're currently trying to wash blood off of your hands, which are stained crimson almost up to your elbows. It goes about as well as expected, and as you dry your arms with a rag, there's still a pinkish stain to your skin.

The table is a mess, blood and herbs seeping into the wooden planks which make up the surface. Cooper leans against the doorframe, as he watches you splash some chemicals onto the wood. It bubbles up in a disgusting mixture of red, green and yellow. You let it sizzle for a moment, before taking that same bowl of water you've been using to clean up, and dumping it all onto the table. The mixture flows down to the floor, the residing surface looking much cleaner.

- Now, as much as I'd love to sit around and play house with you, honey - Cooper starts, and has to clear his throat, when you look up at him wordlessly, blood on your face and fire in your eyes - I have a bounty to collect.

Sighing, you push your hair back from your forehead, exhaustion, which is synonymous with living in the Wastelands seeping off of you like a tidal wave.

- Do you have a name? - you ask, reaching for a leather bag sitting on one of the chairs.

- I do - he says, and you roll your eyes at the deliberate lack of information his answer has given you.

You mutter something that sounds scarily close to "asshole", and begin to chuck a couple of vials into the bag, then some herbs, then a water canteen. It's like you're ready to move out at any time, and a sneaking suspicion arises in Cooper's mind. This isn't the first time you're in this situation, if your calm demeanor is anything to go by. Suspicious, highly so, and as you turn around to face him, Cooper raises his hand ever so slightly.

Your eyes fall onto the bundle of rope in his grip, eyebrow raising in annoyance.

- You serious?

- As a funeral, sweetheart - he sways the bundle lighty, his other hand pointing the gun at your abdoment - Now, are you going to be good, and come over here? Or should I come over there and make it unpleasant for us both?

- You're already making it unpleasant - you mutter, but cross the kitchen towards him, raising your hands, palms up.

- Wait.

Confusion hits you, when the Ghoul reaches into his pocket, producing a small piece of torn cloth. Your entire body goes still, as he grabs onto your chin, cold metal of his gun digging into your cheek, the barrel settling into the juncture between your neck and your shoulder. Then, despite your best efforts at freeing yourself from his grip, he brings the cloth to his lips, wetting the fabric with his tongue.

The bloody smear on your forehead is wiped down rather roughly, and you twist in place like an impatient toddler, when Cooper leans his head back, to look at his handywork. You shiver with disgust, at the feeling of his drying saliva on your skin, and as soon, as he lets you go, you begin to rub at your forehead with the sleeve of your robe.

- Good condition - he rasps, and if looks could kill, he'd be six feet under.

He gives you a nasty smirk, settling his gun down for just a moment, and grabbing your wrists together, so he can tie them up. Which is all the time you need to make a decision, and kick out your knee, nailing him right in the crotch. He doubles over, cursing loudly, hands shooting out to grab you, but all he catches is your tattered robe, which you slide out of easily.

Fater than he would've anticipated, you grab at your bag, and bolt to the back of the kitchen, where he watches you jump over the table and all but slide out of the house through an open window. It's like a choreographed dance, the way you move out of his grasp. When he reaches the window himself, there's no sight of you, other than the rustling of tree branches somewhere in the woods behind your cabin.

- Fucking women. - Cooper whistles.

He can't deny the shiver of excitement running down his back, as he secures the hat over his eyes. If that's how you want to play, he would oblidge. It's been far too long since he could actually enjoy a more challenging bounty. Cooper slowly walks out of your cabin, looking over all the little trinkets you've gathered inside. Then, almost lazily, he lifts the robe you've left him to his nose. He feels nothing, of course, but he has quite a vivid imagination. Vivid enough to supply him with a memory of a scent from his past life. Lavender, he'd bet you smell like lavender.

Your tracks are deep and visible across the ground, and so, the hunt begins.

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