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soaps-mohawk · 4 months

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Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 2 - Adjustments

Summary: You're struggling a bit in your adjustment to your new life, and you're finding some of them are easier to get along with than others. Luckily you're not in it alone.

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader

Warnings: Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, a/b/o typical classism and sexism, military inaccuracies, let's be real this is so unrealistic but it's a/b/o you're not here for accuracy.

Author's Note: I'm so just overwhelmed with the attention this fic has gotten, but not in a bad way I promise! I'm just surprised is all. Thank you everyone that has read and reblogged and commented. I love all of you and so, since I have no self control, here is Chapter 2. Lots more world building and dialogue in this part, but I promise good stuff is coming.

Also I promise Soap will get his time soon. He's just the hardest for me to write, and you'll see why in this chapter.

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“She was lying.”

Price doesn’t bother looking up as a dark figure leans against the wall next to him. He stares out at the empty space between the barracks and the mess hall, not much traffic between the buildings during this time of day.

“About how she got to the institute.”

“Or at least not telling the whole truth.” Price says, turning to look at Simon. “Something tells me she’d talk if we asked.”

“She’s soft.” Simon says, letting his gaze drift off into the distance.

“She’s a civilian.” Price counters. “The CIA did a little training, but she’ll need some work. We can’t leave her completely defenseless...”

Simon turns to face him again. “There’s something else.”

Price pushes himself off the wall, heading back inside. Simon follows, the two of them making their way down the hall to his office. “There’s hundreds of American military bases across the world, thousands of regiments they could have chosen from, and yet, they sent her to us.”

Simon closes the door behind him as Price sinks into his desk chair. “You think it was deliberate?”

Price pulls open one of the drawers, pulling out the file Kate had given him. “Laswell said the CIA has had eyes on her for years.” He slides it across his desk to Simon. “There’s a lot of why's in this situation, and a lot of how’s. Like, if what she’s saying is true, how did a Staff Sergeant get his daughter into FIOT practically overnight?”

Simon glances up at him over the top of the file. “You think there’s something else going on with this Initiative.”

Price nods. “I do. I think there’s more than one experiment being run, and we’re the guinea pigs.”

You stare at your reflection in the mirror as you run a comb through your damp hair. You look tired, the dark circles that have plagued your face for the last few weeks looking even darker now. It’s been a long day, so long it’s hard to believe it’s only been a matter of hours since you boarded the helicopter in London.

Your new pack had made themselves scarce after dinner, leaving you to your own devices. You had been left alone after lunch too, and you had spent that time laying in bed, resting after the overwhelming scenting.

You’d played back the last few hours in your mind. Leaving London in the helicopter, meeting your new Pack Alpha, Laswell leaving, meeting your new pack, the scenting. You had plenty to think about, to stress over, and you had been surprised when the knock came at your door for dinner. You were equally surprised to see Gaz and Soap waiting for you.

You’d been sandwiched between them again as you walked to the mess. It was busier for dinner, and the eyes weren’t quite so quick to look away with the alphas missing. You know they have to be curious, with an omega on base following around two members of a SpecOps team, smelling like them. You know what they were probably thinking of you, what they were thinking your presence means.

You’ve begun to understand Price’s rules a bit more.

Price and Ghost had joined you as Soap said they would, coming in late from whatever they had been busy doing. You had been seated next to Soap, Ghost taking his other side while Price sat next to Gaz. It hadn’t gone unnoticed to you how close Soap and Ghost sat, and you remembered the look in Ghost’s eyes when Soap had approached to scent you. How his defensive stare had turned icy, threatening even, when he’d gotten close to you as if you were capable of hurting Soap. It had been a silent warning. If you tried anything, you’d have him to contend with.

Ghost is territorial, more so than most alphas. You had seen it just a bit in Price, but only because you had been watching for it. Ghost was silent in his claim, but his gaze spoke of his territorialism. As you sat at the table with them, you slowly felt the stares lessen, the curious alphas and betas around you slowly turning away from your table until you were left in peace. You knew it was all thanks to a well-pointed glare from the second alpha at the table.

They’d escorted you back to the barracks before disappearing again, leaving you alone. You’d opted for a shower to try and clear your head, exhaustion weighing heavy in your limbs but your mind was racing too much to really get any rest. You haven’t been told what their normal schedules entail or even what they look like, but you expect an early morning tomorrow. Since Price had said at least one of them needed to escort you around base, that likely meant you were going to be constrained to their schedules.

You know even when they’re not away, their days are probably full of training and briefings, much like yours had been for three months. They’re probably up early, earlier than you’d like to be, and then they go non-stop all day.

You wonder if they ever get a break.

Maybe this is a break for them.

You sit on the edge of the bed after you finish your routine, eyeing the pillows and blankets stacked at the end. They’re military issue, not as soft or as plush as you might have preferred. This is your new normal, though. Comfort isn’t exactly going to be a high priority.

Tears prick your eyes as you run your hand over the comforter. You know it’s the exhaustion, the stress of the day beginning to weigh on you. You’re worn out, and that’s causing a slip in the tight reins you keep on your mood. Omegas and alphas were both prone to being moody, and those who were unrestrained could lose control quickly. Alphas were quick to anger, while omegas could get depressed very easily. Exhaustion drives both to being grumpy, though alphas will descend into irritability and anger, while omegas will get whiny and weepy.

You hate it, how easily you can be driven to cry. How easily you can lose control. It makes you feel weak and helpless, but that’s partially by design. It was supposed to be your pack’s job to fix that, to give you that support and take care of you.

Except you don’t know your pack.

What would they do if you approached them like this, all teary and needy? Would instinct take over and snap them into their roles? Or would they give you an awkward pat on the back and leave you to take care of yourself? Gaz would help you, you think. He had slipped into that role so easily during the scenting. Your fingers twitch on the bedspread, your mind telling you to seek him out, track him down, even if it’s only to catch a whiff of his scent again.

Your phone screen lights up where it’s sitting on the nightstand, drawing your attention from the door. Kate had given you the phone just this morning before you left the hotel. It had her number on it, as well as your pack’s. You’d half expected to find messages already from them when you’d turned it on, but there had been none. They had kept that boundary of meeting in person first.

You pick up the phone, checking the message. It’s from Price.

Breakfast is at 0700. I’ll take you to see the Omega Specialist after.

Seven o’clock. It’s not terribly early. You’d eaten around the same time at the institute. You’ll get to meet the Omega Specialist as well tomorrow. You’ve met plenty of them in your time as an omega, but something about the idea of having someone there who knows, who understands is comforting to you.

You send a reply in acknowledgement for tomorrow’s plan before setting an alarm for tomorrow morning. There’s an uneasy feeling under your skin, a tickling in the back of your mind that you can’t seem to relax. Your eyes are drawn to the desk where the shirts still sit, and before you know it you’re moving to the desk, letting your fingers trail over each one.

You grab Price’s shirt, taking it back to your bed. You curl up with your back facing the door, holding the shirt against your chest, letting the scent of tobacco smoke and whiskey fill your nose. Silent tears slide down your cheeks, your face pressing into the pillow to muffle your sobs.

As you try to muffle your tears, you miss the sound of boots pausing in front of your door, the person on the other side standing there for a moment before continuing down the hall.

You let out a groan as your alarm pulls you from sleep. You had drifted in and out for a few hours before finally managing to get a couple precious hours of sleep. You’d woken when the others got up. You knew they were trying to be quiet but you had heard them shuffling around, talking quietly amongst each other. You’re normally a fairly deep sleeper, but in a new place you always struggle.

A new place surrounded by almost complete strangers.

You turn off your alarm, sitting up and rubbing your eyes. They’re burning a bit, the exhaustion still weighing heavy on your shoulders. You pad to the bathroom, splashing cold water on your face to try and make yourself at least look more alive than you feel. The last thing you need is them getting worried about you. That’s attention you’re not sure you want right now.

You blink sleepily at your closet, trying to decide what to wear. Were you allowed to wear anything? You didn’t have much besides the basics, since the only thing you had been allowed to wear at the institute was its uniform and the clothes they provided. Then when you were with the CIA, they had provided clothes for you to wear as well. The things you have now had been bought by Kate before you left D.C.

Everyone on base wore similar variants of the same uniform. You’re not military, though, so you don’t think those rules apply to you. No one had said anything about your state of dress yesterday. You opt for comfort, knowing you’d likely find out soon if you were going to be forced to dress differently too.

You’re tying your shoes when the knock sounds on your door. You had heard the others moving around, footsteps in the hallway, opening and closing doors, quiet voices talking and Soap laughing at something. You know it’s one of them, yet the nervous tickle at the back of your head is back.

Soap is leaning casually against your doorframe when you open the door. His face lights up in a smile as he sees you. “Morning, bonny. Sleep alright?”

“Yeah.” You shrug. “Tossed and turned for a while.”

“We didne keep ye up did we?” He asks, his smile faltering just a bit.

You shake your head. “No, I never sleep well the first few nights in a new place.”

“Well, our beds are always open if ye need something more comfortable.” He winks at you playfully.

Your face warms at his words, the double meaning not lost on you. You were right, Soap was going to be the one to push your boundaries the most.

Gaz elbows him in the ribs as he passes. “She’s been here a day, mate, don’t go scaring her off now.” He leans on the other side of your doorframe, giving you a smile. “Morning.”

“Morning.” You say, your face still warm from Soap’s teasing.

“You hungry?” Gaz asks.

You nod. You do feel hungry this morning, likely a side effect from your emotional night last night. You step out of your room, the two betas stepping back to give you space as you close the door behind you. Ghost is leaning against the wall next to his door, his eyes watching with the typical cautious disinterest that seemed to be his default setting.

Gaz and Soap sandwich you between them again, close enough their arms brush yours as you walk. It was almost as if they could sense your inner turmoil, the neediness still tugging at the back of your mind. If Ghost hadn’t been trailing the three of you, you might have been tempted to give in and grip their sleeves, or slip your hands into theirs. How would Ghost respond to such a bold move? The mental image of your body flying through the air as he punted you into next week almost makes you laugh.

Price is already seated at a table frowning at his phone over a cup of coffee. Gaz and Soap load up your tray for you, something you’re getting used to rather quickly. It was expected from the alphas, or at least Price, to coddle you a bit, but it seemed the betas were more than happy to get in on it as well.

The thought makes something flutter in your chest.

You’re seated between Gaz and Price again once you reach the table, Price greeting you with a tired smile. “Morning. Sleep alright?”

“Not really.” You say honestly. “New place and all. I’ll settle in eventually.”

“Maybe the Omega Specialist can give you some ideas to help.” He glances at his watch before looking at you as you spoon a heaping spoonful of porridge into your mouth. “Take your time. We have until 8.”

You listen to the conversation at the table as you eat, Gaz and Soap talking about a football game that’s on tonight. You feel eyes on you, your skin prickling a bit. You glance up, half expecting Ghost to be glowering at you again, but his gaze is focused on his eggs. You cast a quick glance around the mess, turning slightly to look behind you.

Three tables over, you find the gaze of some soldier focused on you. You haven’t paid much attention to anyone else on the base, but then again you haven’t had much time or reason to yet. You can’t read the expression on his face as he stares at you, but you feel a shiver run down your spine as your eyes meet his.

He stares at you for a few seconds before his gaze moves slightly past you, quickly dropping back to his plate. You turn around, finding Ghost staring just past your head. His eyes are narrowed, his scent coming off stronger than it had been. You can practically see his hackles raised, the warning clear in the air. You feel the urge to curl in on yourself, the threatening aura radiating from him makes you want to cower.

It doesn't go unnoticed by those at the table either.

“Easy, Ghost.” Price says calmly, Gaz turning to follow his line of sight.

“Bloody wanker.” Ghost grumbles before rising from the table.

You turn back around, but the soldier that had been staring at you is gone.

You nervously pick at your sweatshirt sleeves as you sit in the plastic chair next to Price. You’re still on edge a bit from what happened at breakfast. It wasn’t so much being stared at that bothered you. After now three meals in the mess, you’ve almost come to expect it. It’s Ghost’s reaction that has your mind still reeling.

“I’ve always hated the medical center.” Price says with a sigh as he leans his head back against the wall. “It smells too sterile. Makes my nose burn. Reminds me of too many close calls.”

His words jar you a bit. You hadn’t even thought about that aspect of his job. He’s used to getting shot at, to getting into fights, running head first into danger that would send most running the other way. You wonder how many times he’s been the one with the close call, and how many others he’s had to watch have their own.

You wonder how many times he’s had to make that trip to tell someone’s family.

You’re pulled from your thoughts as the door across from you opens. Price pushes himself to his feet, and you follow as a kind looking woman steps out. You breathe a quiet sigh of relief. You don’t have anything against male Omega Specialists, but you were already surrounded by men. Sure you have Kate, but she’s half a world away.

She’s tall, dark hair pulled back into a ponytail. Despite being a doctor she’s dressed casually, no white coat or gloves to be seen. Her eyes are light green and crease in the corners when she smiles.

“Hello, I’m Dr. Keller.” She introduces herself, shaking Price’s hand.

American. You think, silently breathing another sigh of relief. Kate really had pulled some strings with this one.

“Captain John Price.” He says.

You introduce yourself when she turns to you, shaking your hand. Her voice is soft and gentle, the scent of beta coming off her in waves.

“Come on in,” She says, leading you into the office. “Sit anywhere you like. Make yourselves comfortable.”

Her office isn’t what you expected either. Instead of the harsh fluorescents, the lighting is softer, warmer. There’s paintings and posters all over the walls, along with several plants. There’s a desk covered in books and paperwork in one corner and a bookshelf with several books packed into it in the other. There’s a couch on one wall, and a couple plush looking chairs on the other.

You move to one of the chairs, sinking down onto it. It envelops you in softness, and you feel as if you might sink into it and never be able to get out. After a day of hard plastic and stiff blankets, it nearly makes you weep.

Price takes the chair next to you, Dr. Keller sitting on the couch across from you. The office smells good, a light, neutral scent in the air aside from the pure almondy scent of beta.

“Alright,” She says, holding a tablet and a stack of files in her lap. “I always like to start by introducing myself and telling you a bit about me, then we’ll get into the important stuff.”

She jumps into telling you about herself. Where she grew up: California. Where she studied: UC Berkeley. What institute she did her residency at: West Coast Training Academy. Where she worked last before Kate called her in: some poor inner city institute in LA.

“Now, on to the more important stuff.” She says, turning on the tablet. “I got your medical records yesterday. You’re quite the healthy girl.”

“Yes ma'am. I have good genes. That’s what my mom used to say.” You respond.

Dr. Keller smiles. “Hardly even been sick. Your heats are all normal, too, correct?”

“Yes, ma’am.” You say. “Except for a three month stretch two years ago.”

“Yes, the heat sickness epidemic that hit America.” She says.

You nod. “FIOT locked down completely and everyone was supposed to quarantine, but I heard a rumor that it was one of the beta food workers. She snuck out to see her alpha boyfriend and brought it in with her. We only think it was her because she disappeared not long after the first omega got sick.”

Dr. Keller hums. “I know not everyone was so willing to take it seriously. You made a full recovery, though. No lasting side effects, I’m sure thanks to the state of the art medical facilities that FIOT keeps.”

“Yes, ma’am. We were lucky it was just a mild case.”

“That is lucky.” She flips through something on the tablet. “Your lab results all look phenomenal. I like to do checkups monthly, just to ensure everything is working as it should. I know the CIA gave you quite the cocktail of vaccines while you were with them.” She turns her gaze to Price. “Captain Price, I’ve sent in a request for your team’s vaccination records as well. I’m sure you’ve had everything under the sun, but I’d like to ensure there’s no risk of any accidental exposures.”

“I don’t see a problem with that.” Price says. “If RAMC gives you any trouble, just let me know. I’ll get them for you myself.”

“Thank you, Captain.” She says. “One last bit in this part and then we can move on. I see FIOT issued an implant before you left, as is standard practice.”

You nod. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Good. You’ve had more than enough time for it to take effect so we won’t have to worry about any accidental slip ups during your next heat.”

Your cheeks warm at her words a bit. You’ve been trying to avoid thinking about that inevitable side of things.

“And your next heat is roughly six weeks away.” She says, looking at the calendar. “Don't be surprised if it comes a little earlier now that you’re being exposed to alphas again.”

Your stomach twists nervously at that thought. It was common for heats to be triggered early after exposure to alphas, especially after such a prolonged period without exposure to them. It wasn’t likely to start tomorrow, but you knew it could jump a week or two due to the natural pheromones alphas put off, and the instinctual call for the alpha/omega bond.

“You’re planning for the claiming to take place during the heat?” Dr. Keller asks.

“Yes, that’s the plan.” Price says.

“That is the most natural time for it.” Dr. Keller says. “Of course, it is always up to omega preference in the end.”

You don’t miss the way her eyes dart to you for a second.

“Now that that’s over with,” She says, putting the tablet to the side. “If it’s alright with you, I’d like to do this next part with just the two of us.”

A beat of silence passes before you realize she’s asking you. Her eyes are on you, and so are Price’s. She’s asking you. She’s asking you what you want.

“I-I guess...yeah.” You stutter over your words, not quite sure how to answer. Is there a wrong answer? Would Price be upset if you said yes? Would Dr. Keller be upset if you said no? Your eyes turn to Price, trying to gauge his reaction.

“It’s up to you.” He says softly. “We’re here for you.”

You sit up a little straighter at his words, nodding your head. “Y-Yes. That’s okay.”

Price pushes himself to stand up. “I’ll be right outside.”

The air inside the room seems to lighten as he leaves, Dr. Keller reclining back on the couch as the door clicks shut. She pulls out a stack of papers and a pen before she looks at you. Your palms are sweating, and you’re starting to think you’d like the chair to swallow you whole.

“This next part can feel a bit personal, but I just want you to know that everything you say in here is as confidential as you’d like it to be. Captain Price is right. I am an Omega Specialist, I’m here for you. I’m not just a doctor, I’m here to help you in all aspects of being an omega. I know FIOT teaches a lot, mainly obedience and compliance. I want to make it clear that you can be honest with me.” She holds up the stack of papers. “No one is going to see these papers but me, alright?”

“Yes, ma’am.” You nod.

“You don’t have to be so formal with me.” She smiles. “You can call me Dr. Keller, or Doc. You could even call me an evil bitch if you want, it won’t phase me any.”

You can’t help the small smile that forms on your face.

“I’ve got some questions I’d like to ask you. They’re a sort of tracker to measure how well you’re settling in and bonding with your new pack. I’d like to meet once a week until your next heat just to see how well you’re settling in. After that we can meet as often as you’d like. Sound good?”

You nod in approval. It sounds like a lot, but you also know you’re going to have a lot of downtime, even with your pack on base.

“Alright, let’s get started. How are you settling in? I know it’s barely been a day, but I want to know how you feel here.”

Your heart begins to pound in your chest. How do you feel here? How do you feel after being pulled from the institute and taken to a training facility where you found out you’d be moving halfway across the world to be a military pack’s omega.

This wasn’t what you had expected when you reached the age where you became an available omega. Most omegas at FIOT came from rich, powerful, important families and your purpose there was to be groomed into the perfect omega to return right back to that world.

You thought you would be chosen quickly. You had expected it. With your scores and your high ratings and your status, you were what most alphas dreamed of. Yet, the years had passed and though there was some interest, nothing had ever come of it. You weren’t alone in it. There were others like you, those who excelled at being an omega, but then seemed to stall in the selection once they came of age.

Of course, now that you look back on it, you can’t help but think it might have been done on purpose. The Omega Initiative was new, you had been told during your first briefing explaining why you were taken to a remote building somewhere outside of D.C. and greeted not by your new pack, but swathes of CIA agents. Military packs were nothing new, but they wanted to utilize the naturally formed packs and make them stronger and more stable by adding in omegas.

Only highly skilled omegas were considered for the program, but of course you had no say in whether you were going to partake or not. They chose the omegas and they decided where you would end up.

It wasn’t that dissimilar from being chosen from an Institute. At FIOT there was a screening process packs had to go through to be determined eligible to have access to omega files. Then the pack would have to send a neutral emissary, usually a beta, to meet the omegas in person and choose on behalf of the alpha. Most institutes don’t have that strenuous of a process, and some don’t have a process at all. In some, alphas themselves could walk in and choose an omega without even so much as a background check.

Omegas never got a say. As soon as you were handed over to an institute, the ability to choose was taken from you. Whoever your caretakers were as a pup signed over their rights to you and the institute became your legal guardian. They dictated your life up until you joined a new pack.

You had hoped it would be someone rich. If nothing else, you’d get to live a cushy life and you’d never have to worry about anything. When they told you what was really going to happen to you, you had almost cried. You did cry, late at night curled up in your bunk after hours of training and briefings.

Kate picked you for this pack specifically because she knew them and she knew you could handle them and their world.

Maybe if you had been worse at being an omega, things would have been better for you.

Or maybe they would have been worse.

“It’s...different.” You finally say, picking at your sleeves again. “But in a lot of ways, it’s similar to The Institute. It always takes me time to settle somewhere new.”

“Me too.” Dr. Keller says, writing some things down. “And with the time change, it’s just so much harder. I feel like I should be in bed right now, but it’s 8 AM. Have you started nesting?”

You shake your head. “No. I don’t even feel the urge to.”

“That’s fine.” She says, writing something else down. “In truth, I’d be more concerned if you were.”

Your eyebrows raise a bit. “Why?”

“During an adjustment period for an omega, especially in a new pack, there can be something that happens called false instincts. The sudden urge to nest, a drive to bond with pack members too soon, false heats. It’s usually brought on by a sudden change in environment, like when omegas are taken from a place where they’ve spent sometimes years with no exposure to alphas and are suddenly thrown into a space with a lot of alphas. It’s more common in larger packs where you have alphas, betas, and other omegas.”

“Could it happen in smaller packs?” You ask.

“It’s possible, though rare. It can cause some serious issues down the line when those instincts are actually supposed to begin to show up, like adjustment sickness. I’d say if you’re starting to feel the urge to nest or bond before the first week is up, then come talk to me, alright?”

“Yes, ma’am.” You nod.

She smiles, turning the page. “How far have you gotten with the bonding process?”

“Just the scenting yesterday.” You answer.

“And how did that go?”

You pick at the loose thread on your sweatshirt. “Fine. It was...overwhelming.”

“They can be.” Dr. Keller says. “The new members of your pack, how are you getting along with them?”

“Fine, I guess.” You shrug. “I like Soap and Gaz. Price, he’s...he’s nice, and Ghost...” You trail off, not sure how to answer. If she’d asked before breakfast you might have said he doesn't like you. He doesn’t want you to be part of his pack, but after what happened at breakfast...

You can’t be sure he did it for you. He could have thought that soldier was staring at Soap or Gaz or even Price. He could have thought the soldier was staring at him and was annoyed with it. He had scared off the stares at every meal you’d eaten together, but how often did they get stared at? You couldn’t know if that was a daily occurrence and he was just growing sick of it.

He could be annoyed with you because you’re drawing in the stares.

“I don’t know what to think about him yet.” You answer.

She writes something else down, going through a few more questions with you. How is your appetite? How are you sleeping? Are you taking care of your needs? Do you have any concerns?

Before you know it the hour has passed and you’re walking out the door into the fluorescent, sterile hallway of the medical center.

“Remember, you have my number. If you need anything, I’m here for you.” Dr. Keller says as you part ways.

You walk with Price out of the medical center, glad to be out in the fresh air. It’s not particularly warm, and the sun is hidden behind a layer of clouds, but it’s better than the medical center.

“What do you think?” Price asks as you follow him back to the barracks.

“I think it went well.” You say, mind still reeling from an eventful morning. You’re beginning to feel your restless night.

“Do you like Dr. Keller?” He asks, probing a bit.

You nod. “Yes, sir. She’s nice.”

“Good.” He says, opening the door to the barracks for you. “I have to leave to oversee training for the next few hours.” He glances at his watch. “One of us will come get you for lunch.”

You nod. Of course you’d find yourself alone again between meals. You’re beginning to notice a pattern. “Yes, sir.”

His hand is warm as it settles on your shoulder, squeezing gently. You’re surprised by the touch, as small as it is. Were they too fighting the urge to get close to you, like you had this morning?

You can still feel the warmth of his hand even after it’s disappeared and he’s gone. You head for the rec room, deciding to avoid the constricting feeling of being shut in your room for the time being.

The TV is on when you enter, but the room is empty, playing some morning talk show. You move to the bookshelf against the wall, letting your eyes scan the titles. There's a surprising lack of military-based books shoved into the packed shelf. Of course there's a handful of old manuals and handbooks, nothing that you're particularly concerned about needing to read. You let out a sigh, standing on your toes to reach a Brandon Sanderson novel.

You look around the room but the remote for the TV seems to be missing, and it’s too high on the wall for you to reach the power button, so you leave it on, curling up on one corner of the couch as you begin to read.

You’re not sure how much time has passed when something moves in your peripheral. The sun has come out briefly, shining in through the windows. You look up from the book, suddenly feeling very small under Ghost’s gaze. His eyes are narrowed as he stares down at you, a thousand things flashing through your mind. Are you in his spot? Is this his book? Had he come to the rec room hoping to be alone and here you are infringing in his space?

“Come on.” He says, his voice rougher than it had been this morning. “Lunch.”

He’s already turned and heading out the door as you scramble up, leaving the book on the coffee table as you hurry to catch up to him. His steps are quick and wide, and you find yourself having to almost speedwalk to keep up with him.

Your thoughts are jumbled as you follow him out of the barracks and off towards the mess. Why would they send him to get you? Was he the only one available? Yesterday they had time before lunch to return to the barracks, or had that only been because of you? Or were they perhaps hoping this might offer a chance for the two of you to bond a bit?

Or were they entirely blind to Ghost’s disinterest in your existence?

Perhaps they were used to it. After so long together, perhaps they just thought it was normal. If you were brave enough to bring it up, would you get a “oh that’s just how he is” in response?

You can’t see the others as you enter the mess, Ghost leading you to the line. He stands behind you like a hulking shadow, his scent covered by the smell of gunpowder and sweat. You fill your own tray for the first time, grabbing things that look appetizing. You’ll have to get used to it eventually, even though the others insisted on doing it for the time being. When they’re not here, you’ll have to do it yourself.

Ghost leads you to an empty table, and you opt to sit across from him. You begin to eat, taking big bites to avoid the need for conversation, not that you really thought Ghost would strike up a conversation with you. Your eyes flicker around the room nervously, glancing over the entrances time and time again, waiting for the others to arrive.

“Stop twitching. They’re on their way.”

The words cut straight through you and you snap your head around to face Ghost. He’s got his mask pulled up to his nose, your eyes immediately drawn to the exposed pale skin. There’s light stubble on his chin. You remember how that had felt on your own skin when he’d scented you. He’s blonde, you think, or at least has light hair judging by the color of the stubble. There’s a scar on his chin, almost hidden by the stubble.

Your face warms as you realize you’ve been caught in your nervous fretting. Of course, you should have known he would take notice. There’s not a lot they don’t notice, you think. Though, when your survival depends on noticing even the smallest detail of anything or anyone...

You jump as a tray is set down next to yours, your eyes snapping up to see Gaz with a smile on his face. You turn back to look at Ghost, his mask pulled back down but you see a slight shake to his shoulders for a second.

Was he...laughing at you?

Your attention is drawn from him as Gaz takes a seat next to you, sitting close enough his arm is almost brushing yours. Price and Soap taking their usual spots as well. You’re beginning to pick up on the patterns that existed around them, and their own patterns. Perhaps that will make it easier for you to fit yourself into their lives. You knew from the start they weren’t going to change to fit you into their lives. They couldn’t. You were going to have to find a way to fit into their lives.

Gaz walks you back to the barracks after lunch, abnormally quiet as he watches you warily. He walks you to your door, leaning on the doorframe as you step inside.

“You alright?” He asks, big brown eyes shining with worry as he looks you over.

“Yeah.” You nod, shifting on your feet. “Just tired. I think I might take a nap.”

He nods, and you’re sure he doesn't quite believe you, but he doesn’t press any. “Alright. Happy napping.”

You close the door as he leaves, sinking down onto the edge of the bed with a sigh. It’s been a long day and it’s only lunch. Between the probing questions from Dr. Keller and the few minutes you had spent alone with Ghost you feel exhausted. It was good to know you weren’t entirely broken in your lack of nesting instincts, and perhaps your turmoil with belonging in this place wasn’t quite as abnormal as you thought.

What to do about Ghost.

He’s said more words to you today than he did in the entirety of the previous day. In fact, you think today might be the first time he’s spoken to you at all. You know he doesn’t approve of you, and you’d go so far as to say he doesn’t like you. You can imagine he fought the hardest against you being added to the pack. They were fine without you. It didn’t take a genius to see that.

You’re an outsider. A civilian. A risk.

An unneeded disruption to their lives.

You pull your phone out of your pocket, staring at the dark screen. You know Ghost might never accept you. He won’t want to claim you, he won’t mate you, but...perhaps you might just get him to tolerate you.

You unlock your phone, sending a quick text to Kate.

“Can you get a book for me?”

You regret your decision momentarily as you step into the rec room. Gaz and Soap are lounged on the couch, beer bottles open on the coffee table. The TV is playing ads, their attention on each other. You almost feel as if you’re infringing upon a private moment as they laugh, half tempted to race back to your room and hide until your hunger draws you out or someone breaks down the door to get to you.

“Hey!” Gaz’s face lights up when he sees you, Soap turning to look at you.

“Hey, bonny!” His face lights up with a smile.

“Do you mind if I join you?” You ask, shifting nervously on your feet.

“Not at all.” Gaz says, patting the empty spot on the couch next to him. “You want a beer?”

You shake your head. “No thank you. Never could get past the taste.”

Soap throws his head back as he laughs, slapping Gaz’s shoulder. “I keep tellin’ ye!”

“Yet you keep drinking it!” Gaz attempts to defend himself.

“Cause it’s th’ only thing we got!” Soap argues, leaning around Gaz to stare at you. “So, ye a football fan, bonny?”

“Well, I watched the World Cup a couple times as a kid.” You say. “My household was more of an American football and baseball household. Two of my older brothers played soccer, though they never were very serious about it. Mostly just did it to fulfill my dad’s physical activity extracurricular requirement.”

“What did you do to fulfill that requirement?” Gaz asks as he takes a sip of his beer.

“Softball. I was...not good at it.” You laugh. “I could catch and throw, but I don’t think I hit the ball a single time I was at bat.”

Both of them chuckle, turning back to the TV as the ad ends. “Don’t worry, we’ll turn you into a proper football fan yet.” Gaz says.

You watch the game with them, and it doesn’t take you long to realize they’re rooting for opposing teams. They explain things to you here and there in between yelling at the TV and each other. Despite how loud they are, you find yourself relaxing further and further, the tension from the last two days easing away, even as the two betas yell at each other over a soccer game.

Gaz tenses for a second as he feels a sudden weight on his shoulder. He turns his head slightly, noticing you’ve fallen asleep, your head drooping onto his shoulder. His lips quirk up in a smile as he gently nudges Soap.

“Wha?” Soap asks, turning to look at him.

He jerks his head to the side, leaning back just slightly so Soap can see. A grin breaks out on the younger man’s face and he pulls out his phone. “Aww, look a’ that. Think we should wake ‘er and get ‘er tae bed?”

“Nah.” Gaz says. “Let her sleep for now. She probably needs it.”

You sleep soundly through overtime, Gaz not moving until the post game is over, letting you sleep as long as possible. He knows you have to be tired, after the last few days and the time difference. You looked tired today, with dark circles and droopy eyes. He hates to wake you, but he knows you can’t sleep on the couch.

He nudges you gently, trying to rouse you. “Hey.” He nudges you again, your head finally lifting off his shoulder.

You blink sleepily, rubbing at your eyes. You make a quiet sound in protest of being awake, eyes drooping closed again.

“Come on, love.” He says, keeping you upright. “It’s time for bed.”

You cover your yawn with your hand, blinking at him sleepily. “Bed?” You murmur sleepily, Gaz smiling softly at how adorable you are in this state.

“Yeah, you’ll be more comfortable in bed.” He pushes himself to stand, hands on your arms to pull you up.

You make another sound in protest, nearly falling against his chest when he gets you on your feet. He wraps an arm around you, letting you lean on him as he guides you back to bed, Soap cleaning up the mess they had made.

You’re more awake once you get to your door, blinking up at him with bleary eyes. “‘S fun.” You murmur, rubbing your eyes. “Should do that more often.”

“You’re always welcome to join us.” He says. “Get some rest. You’ve had a long week.” He leans forward, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Night, love.”

He waits until your door is closed before heading back down the hallway towards the rec room, a small smile on his face.

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(If you'd like to join the taglist, let me know!)

#call of duty #call of duty fanfic #141 x reader #task force 141 x reader #poly 141 #john price x reader #captain john price x reader #captain price x reader #gaz x reader #kyle garrick x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #john mactavish x reader #soap mactavish x reader #soap x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #a/b/o #alpha beta omega dynamics

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exhaslo · 7 months

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Kinktober Day 31- Ghost face!Miguel x Shy!Reader

*Requested by the many fans of tumblr. Happy Halloween!*

Everyone had warned you about moving to Nueva York. The amount of dangerous people in that city were overwhelming. You were going to be eaten alive as your friends and family warned. You thought of yourself better and wanted to prove to them that you could survive. The shy and quiet you, who barely had to courage to say no. It was something you always struggled with, but you hoped that this new job would help you with it.

You were hired at Alchemax as a lab assistant. You tried to fit in, but everyone was so self centered that you ended up being a loner. Everyone except one person. Miguel O'Hara. He had extended the hand of friendship to you, wanting to make you feel more comfortable around the place. You instantly fell for him. He was so kind to you and understanding. You had just wished that everyone was like him. You had wished you had the courage to ask him out.

"(Y/N), are you okay?" Miguel asked as he tried to grab your attention. You flinched out of your daydream,

"Y-Yeah, sorry. I've been...tired lately."

"I've noticed that you've been taking on other people's work. You need to learn to say no," Miguel told you before typing away on his computer. You could only nod,

"I...know...I've also had trouble sleeping...N-News of that...Ghostface going around killing people has me spooked." Miguel glanced you way, handing you a bottle of water, "T-Thanks."

"You'll be okay, tomorrow's Halloween, that's the last day he goes out. Just stay home, okay?" You let out a small whimper, hesitating. "You are staying home, right?" Miguel asked, stopping his work. Tears almost fell from your eyes,

"I-I got...I was told to join some of the others...a-at a small...work...party," Miguel saw you shaking, "I-I...I couldn't say no..."

"Sí, ¿qué voy a hacer contigo? Mi pobre muñeca inocente. (Aye, what am I to do with you? My poor innocent doll.)" Miguel whispered, knowing that you knew nothing of Spanish. He took you hand, calming you down, "Don't worry, you'll be okay."

You looked into Miguel's eyes, smiling softly as you calmed down. After wiping your tears away, you thanked him quietly before hurrying off to go back to work. Miguel watched you scurry off. He growled lowly as he walked to his trash. That invitation was in there somewhere. Your coworkers didn't care about you to invite you to some Halloween party. They had other plans, and now Miguel did too. Finding the paper, Miguel's eyes shined brighter than normal.

"Tendré que matar a todos y hacerme el héroe, sólo para ti, mi preciosa querida. (I'll just have to kill everyone and play the hero, just for you my precious darling)"

-------------

You stood in the corner of the small party, watching all of your coworkers enjoying themselves. You glanced down at your costume, wondering if it was too weird. Everyone else was dressed up in slutty and revealing outfits and here you were, with the costume you thought looked the cutest. You sighed sadly, wondering why you were even here. No one was talking to you. You were just there. Another sigh escaped your lips as you made your way to the upstairs bathroom.

As you washed up, you heard faint screaming. You gasped and shut the light off, your heart beating faster. Loud thumps echoed from the staircase, causing you to whimper. Tears rolled down your cheeks as the loud thumping stopped right in front of the bathroom door. You hurried into the tub, holding yourself as you shook. This was not how you wanted to die. You cried as the door slammed open,

"BOO!"

"KYAAA!" You screamed, covering your ears. You heard loud laughter and raised your head to your coworkers,

"Ah man! Did you get that on video!?" One of them yelled.

You stormed out of the bathroom, sobbing past everyone as they laughed at you. You made your way to the backyard since the front entrance was blocked off. You sat on the steps, crying your eyes out. They only invited you to make fun of you since you were so scared of Ghostface. You were just a quiet coworker, what did you do to deserve this? Upon hearing another scream, you whimpered in response. Were they trying to scare you again?

"I'll just stay here for a bit. They have to unblock the door soon," You whispered.

----------

Miguel had watched the whole thing. His anger had reached a new boiling point. Fixing his mask, Miguel's grip on his knife tighten as he made his way inside. He was the one who blocked the door. Standing in the corner, Miguel watched you ran outside crying. Perfect. He was going to start with the stragglers downstairs. It was a big house and not too many people. The job needed to get new employees anyway. These guys were just dead weight.

Miguel approached each person a little louder than he wanted. He was so fueled with anger that he couldn't focus. He just wanted everyone to pay for what they did. After his first kill, Miguel inhaled deeply. The smell of metallic blood filling his nostrils. He was not going to get now. He had taken out his anger during this month. It was the only time he could. Slowly making his way over to his next victim, Miguel resisted a chuckle as he thought of you.

You were going to be his perfect little wife. Miguel was going to make sure you stay in the dark about his secret. He just wanted to keep you safe. He wanted to keep you protected and loved. When you first arrived at Alchemax, Miguel thought he saw an angel. A shy little angel who entered his life just for him. Miguel had hunted every single asshole who dared tried to flirt with you, or even scared you. Miguel was going to be your dark protector.

"AHHHHHH!"

There it was. The first scream of the night and not from a scare, but because of the dead bodies that laid under Miguel. Smiling through the mask, Miguel watched the girl run to warn the others. Ah yes, that was the start. Miguel inhaled deeply, getting enjoyment from true horror. He was going to enjoy his last few kills of the night. It was going to be another year until Miguel could kill again.

----------

After calming down, you decided to leave. You rubbed your eyes once more before entering the house. It was quiet aside from the sound of thumping from upstairs. They were probably enjoying themselves. Honestly, you were mad at your cruel coworkers. You stopped at the front door, seeing that it was still blocked. Why were they doing this to you? The couch was far too heavy for you to move on your own. Looking for another way out, you gasped as you stepped in something.

"My shoe," You whimpered, looking at the red puddle.

Following the puddle, you gasped sharply as you saw one of you coworkers dead. Your heart started to race again as screams came from upstairs. You hurried to the kitchen, wondering if there was a door there and froze as another dead body laid before you. This was bad. Ghostface was here and he was killing everyone. Tears began to roll down your cheeks again as you hurried to find somewhere to escape. Maybe there was a gate in the backyard?

"Please! Don't kill me!" One of your coworkers screamed as another ran down the stairs,

"(Y/N)?! You're still here?!" He yelled and gasped as Ghostface started to walk down the stairs, "Fuck it, I ain't dying here!"

You yelped as your coworker grabbed you harshly and threw you in front of the staircase. You eyes widen as you nearly froze in fear as Ghostface stood directly before you. You couldn't move. His knife was stained with blood. You shook and closed your eyes, crying as you waited for the worst.

"No! Stay back!"

You shuddered a gasp as you heard Ghostface leave to your coworker first. Quickly, you found a closet and hid in there until it was safe. You were frighten and scared. Covering your ears, you tried to stay quiet as you waited. Waited for Ghostface to leave.

"(Y/N)? Are you here?" That voice. You knew it all too well.

"M-Miguel! R-Run!" You cried out.

----------

Miguel whispered some cusses towards your coworkers as he stabbed him. Now that everyone was dead, it was time for you. He knew that you ran to the living room, but where were you hiding? He stopped to clean his knife in the kitchen sink, washing all the blood off. Once that was done, he attached the knife to his thigh strap under his pants. He then took his mask off, putting it inside one of his cloak pockets that was big enough.

"(Y/N)? Are you here?" He called out, wanting to bring you out of hiding.

"M-Miguel! R-Run!" Those cries weren't meant for you.

"It's okay, I'm here now. I saw Ghostface head upstairs, quickly close your eyes and come out. I'll get you out of here."

You were such a good girl for him. You crawled out of the closet with your eyes closed, your breathing still heavy. Miguel just smiled towards your shaken form, knowing that you were going to be in his arms in a second. With ease, he picked you up, holding you close. He could feel your heart beat. You were sobbing and holding onto him for dear life. You had no reason to cry now. Miguel was going to take care of you.

"Shh, it's okay. I'm here," Miguel whispered as he stroked your head. You just cried into his shoulder,

"M-Miguel, I-I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I'm sorry!"

"You have nothing to apologize for. I'll take good care of you,"

"T-They're all dead. I-I thought...I was next...Miguel...I love you. I love you. I'm sorry, I'm a scaredy cat and shy and nervous...I'm sorry I didn't say it sooner," You kept babbling, crying your heart out since you thought you were going to die.

"Dios mío, no me esperaba esto. Voy a follarte bien esta noche para que te olvides de todo esto. (My god, I wasn't expecting this. I'm going to fuck you go good tonight that you're going to forget all about this.)" He groaned lowly.

"M-Miguel?"

"It's okay, (Y/n), I love you too. I'll take good care of you."

-----------

You sniffled as you stepped out of Miguel's shower, rubbing your arms as you wore some of his spare clothes. Miguel was kind enough to take you to his home, wanting to comfort you for the night. You were nervous as you stepped into his living room. It was quiet. Miguel was taking a shower in his other bathroom. Who would have thought that Miguel was rich? You explored his place, still surprised by the turn of events.

You ended up in the kitchen, noticing a knife in the sink. It looked so much like the knife Ghostface had. Shaking the thought out of your head, you made your way back to the living room. You wanted to forget about what happened tonight. You tried to at least. You knew you were going to have trouble sleeping again. Tomorrow was going to be harsher because everyone was going to be asking about the others. Asking why you were the only one left alive.

"W-What if they think I killed them?" You stuttered at the thought. Miguel approached you from behind, wrapping his arms around your waist,

"Then they would be fools," He kissed the back of your neck.

You shuddered at the affection Miguel gave you. Turning around, you pulled him into a tight hug. Miguel chuckled as he picked you up and carried you to his bedroom. Your cheeks burned up as he placed you on his bed. Miguel stroked your cheek, calming you down again. His smile instantly making you fold for him.

"Do you trust me?" Miguel asked you as he slowly climbed over you. You just nodded, "Good, there's something you need to know,"

You whimpered as Miguel kissed your neck. His hands stroked your sides under the shirt you wore. He let out a low groan since you looked so good in his clothes. You let out a breathless moan as he cupped you breasts. Miguel was going to wait until you were completely in his grasp before telling you. After all, you couldn't say no. You were going to be his good girl forever.

"M-Miguel?" You whined softly as he took your shirt off, squeezing your breasts and pinching your nipples.

"You're not going back to work," Miguel whispered as he started to grind his bulge against your cunt, "You're going to stay here. Make it look like you died with the others."

"W-What?!" You asked, but flung your head back as Miguel sucked on your breasts.

You moaned softly as Miguel spread you legs, allowing him to rut into you rougher. You felt yourself getting wetter. The boxers he let you wear were too thin and easy for him to grind against. You tried to ask him what he meant, but you were being overwhelmed with pleasure. Miguel's hands were now resting against the boxers, rubbing your clit against the fabric. You body leaned into his touch, desperate for more. His tongue swirled around your nipple, making his way back up to your neck.

"You're going to stay here, baby." He whispered again, his fingers dipping under the boxers and circling your clit, "My beautiful angel. I can't let anyone have you. I can't let anyone harm you. You were always mine."

"Mhm~ M-Miguel~"

"(Y/N), don't be afraid of me. I will never harm you." Miguel watched as you bit you lower lip, moving your hips with his hand, "Así es. Déjame convertirte en la esposa perfecta. Déjame manchar tu hermosa inocencia. (That's right. Let me fuck you into the perfect wife. Let me taint your beautiful innocence." He groaned lowly.

You whimpered a moan as you felt a knot tighten inside you. Miguel moved his fingers faster against your clit, causing that knot to tighten. You tried to rub your legs together, but Miguel kept them spread. He sucked against your neck, groaning as you cam from just him playing with your clit. His fingers dipped lower, two digits entering your tight, soaked cunt. You moaned again, your cunt squeezing his fingers as he pumped inside you.

"Ah, my sweet innocent little angel. Watching you break because of me is so delicious." Miguel groaned as you squirmed and moved your hips to his touch, "You're going to stay here. I'll make sure no one will ever hurt you again, understood?"

"Y-Yes! Yes!" You cried out as his fingers feverishly fucked your tight gummy walls.

You whined as Miguel raised your legs over his shoulders. Your pussy clenched his fingers as he started to curl against your sweet spot. You flung your head back as he started to wiggle his fingers inside you. His thumb rubbed against your clit again, bringing you over to the edge. Miguel wasn't making any sense, but his words were making you wetter. Honestly, with how tonight went, you wouldn't mind being stuck in Miguel's home forever. He was your protector.

"M-MIG-" You screamed out as you reached another orgasm. Miguel pulled his fingers out, licking them,

"You even taste sweet," He hummed, holding his erection towards your twitching folds, "You have no idea the amount of men I had to get rid of to make sure you stayed innocent, just for me. Seré tu primero en todo... y tu último. (I will be your first for everything...and your last.)" He groaned.

You whimpered as you felt Miguel's dick stretch you out painfully. His cock was so thick and long. Your pussy was convulsing around him, sucking him in while drool rolled down your lips. He was making you feel so full. You wanted to question him on what he meant by getting rid of people, but you started to get drunk off his cock. Another whimper escaped your lips as Miguel groaned, fitting his whole length inside you. You swore that he was pressing against your cervix, but you weren't sure. This was a first for you.

"Un ajuste perfecto. Fuiste hecho para mí, cariño. Voy a grabar la forma de mi polla en tu memoria. (A perfect fit. You were made for me, darling. I'm going to fuck the shape of my dick into your memory.)" He groaned, slowly pulling out of you, "Killing all those people made this worth it."

"H-Huh?"

You moaned loudly as Miguel thrusted his dick back inside you, hitting your cervix with each thrust. You cried out as Miguel started to bully your cunt, causing you to turn into putty under him. You could barely feel your legs as the slapping sounds between you grew louder. His dick forming a perfect space inside your pussy. You trembled as you started to reach another orgasm, unable to take the pleasure that he was filling you with.

"Look at you, so fucked out on my cock. How does it feel to get fucked by Ghostface, baby? Does my dick feel that good?" Miguel moaned as you tighten around him, "Yes, it does, doesn't it. Why else would you be squeezing me this tight?"

"H-Hah~ Ah~ Y-You're....ah~ mhpm...G-Ghost...f-face?" You whimpered lowly. Miguel fasten his pace, enjoying the white ring that formed around his dick,

"Yes. I'm the scary Ghostface that killed those asshole coworkers of ours," He chuckled, stopping to fill you with his seed, "I told you that you'd be okay. I will never, ever hurt you. Only love you."

You wanted to be scared. You truly did, but both your brain and your heart were only thinking about Miguel's dick pounding you still. His hot semen filling your womb as he kept fucking you dumb. You body twitched from overstimulation as Miguel started to rub your clit again. He leaned down to kiss you, biting you lower lip as you moaned for him. His grip tighten against your hips, rutting into you furiously. He wanted to make sure you knew that you were his.

"Awe? Tired already? I think I need to show you how many people I've killed for you. Here's the second victim." Miguel groaned as he cummed inside you again.

"Mhm~" You muffled lowly, growing exhausted. Miguel chuckled as he pulled you to his lap,

"Tienes razón cariño. Vas a ser la esposa de Ghostface. Siempre puedo mostrarte mi amor en cualquier momento. (You're right darling. You're going to be Ghostface's wife. I can always show you my love anytime.)

----------

When you woke up, Miguel was by your side with water, vitamins and breakfast. He had bathed you and put on a fresh pair of clothes. You recalled his confession from last night and grew slightly nervous. Miguel, the man you longed for, was the murderous Ghostface. He killed your coworkers and faked your death. You now belonged to Miguel. You wanted to be scared, but Miguel had proved to you that he was never going to hurt you.

Maybe it was your blind faith or actually being fucked dumb, but you willingly agreed to stay with Miguel. You stayed in his place as his house wife, greeting him with love everyday. Miguel rewarded your love with his brutal sex, reminding you that you belonged to him. By next Halloween, Miguel returned to his Ghostface persona, needing to release some steam. You became his accomplish, making sure that he returned home safe and sound.

"How was my good girl tonight?" Miguel hummed as he slapped his dick into your soaked pussy. You whined into the bedsheets,

"D-Distracted t-the...ah~ police...s-sending em...mhm~ opposite side of...of....ah~ t-town~!" You cried out. Miguel groaned happily, harshly shoving his dick deeper into you to fill,

"That's my perfect angel. Well done."

"T-Thank you!" You moaned against him, shaking from the pleasure. Miguel hummed happily as he kept thrusting inside you,

"I think you deserve a reward. Why don't we try making a little Ghostface jr?"

"Yes! Yes!"

Your vision blurred as you moved in rhythm to Miguel's thrusts. Your mind started to fill with lust as you became tainted by Miguel. You were just as bad as him now, but you didn't care anymore. As long as Miguel was there to love you and protect you, you were okay. You moaned loudly as you cam against his dick, burying your head into the pillow again. You were happy with you life now. You were going to protect and live with Miguel forever.

Forever as Ghostface's wife.

#kinktober #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel spiderverse #spiderman 2099 #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel spiderman #atsv miguel

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to-the-stars8 · 1 month

Text

The Waynes' Nanny

Batfamily and Reader/ Bruce Wayne x Reader Chapters Ao3

Nanny Flo

You woke to the sound of banging on your bedroom door and thought about ignoring it until a voice came through telling you it was Bruce. With a groan, you groggily told him to come in. Coming in, he sat on the edge of your bed as he informed you, much to your concern, that Cassandra had started her ‘cycle’ as he put it. It was pathetic just how ignorant he was when it came to women.

Sitting up, you put a hand on his shoulder and said, “Mr. Wayne, you are so clueless.”

“That’s the pot calling the kettle black,” Bruce said, acting offended, but you could see the ghost of an amused smile on his face. You rebuffed his words with a scoff. Throwing off your blankets, you stepped out of bed. You noticed he averted his eyes, and, when you looked down, you realized that you were only in a t-shirt and underwear. With a shriek, you shrunk in on yourself. “Mr. Wayne! Get out!”

Scrambling to his feet to get out the door, he mumbled an apology. You turned, feeling how hot your face was and trying to shake the memory from your head. Now wasn’t the time to think about how your handsome boss just saw you in your underwear, there was a little girl who needed you.

You went to Cassandra’s room, knowing she’d be there to get away from all the boys. When you approached her door, you found Mr. Wayne standing there trying to talk to his daughter, but, by the look on his face and the screaming coming through the door, he was getting nowhere. Once you got to her door, you could hear crying. Bruce knocked and called out to her.

“Go away!” She screamed before letting out another sob.

Bruce whispered to you as an afterthought, “She’s too young.”

You scoffed, slowly pushing him aside. “I don’t think you’re the one to make that call. Go, I’ll handle this.”

“But—”

“Go.”

Bruce nodded and left, stopping to tell Cassie that he loved her. Once he was gone, you knocked on her door.

“Cass, it’s me,” You said. “I know you’re probably confused and scared right now, but I want to help you.” For a moment, you thought she might want to be left alone. Though, a minute later, there was a click. You slowly opened her bedroom door to reveal her curled on her bed.

“I hate this,” She sobbed out. “And, I hate everyone.”

When you sat on her bed a small smile crossed your face as you remembered the feeling. Rubbing circles on her back, you soothed her until she could turn around to look at you. “I know, sweet girl. I know. Come here,” You opened your arms and she dove into your embrace.

As you soothed her, you noticed the dozens of boxes of pads and tampons on her nightstand. Bruce must have gotten to her before you had. It was sweet to see a father try his best, but you could also picture Cassandra getting overwhelmed.

You explained everything to her, from the different sizes of pads and tampons to what meds best helped with cramps. Getting out a pad that you brought with you, you explained how it would attach to her underwear, along with all the nitty gritty stuff that came with a period. It calmed her enough that she managed to get out a few questions. It was a little sad just how little she knew about herself, but you were glad you could be there for her to explain.

“Does this mean I’m a woman now,” She asked.

You tucked a piece of her hair behind her ear. “No. You’re ten.”

“I’m eleven next week.”

You laughed to yourself. What a birthday gift from Mother Nature. “Still, no. Whoever says that is either a weirdo or a man—Or both!”

Cassie giggled and that’s the sound you were waiting to hear. You offered to watch some TV and relax, the one thing you would want to get if you got your period for the first time again. She heavily agreed and switched on the little pink TV in the corner of her room. After watching an entire season of My Little Pony, there was a knock at her door and Bruce opened slightly to poke his head in.

“Hi, sweetheart, how are we doing?”

“I hate you,” She groaned, then added. “But I also love you. Please, leave.”

“Understandable,” He said, closing the door behind him.

You giggled, kissed Cassandra’s hair, and urged her to close her eyes. She complied and within minutes she was out. Poor thing, you thought, must have been so exhausted from getting her period and subsequently dealing with it. It was then you slowly slipped away from her. Once you stepped out into the hallway, you took a deep breath before going to find Mr. Wayne.

Luckily, he wasn’t far. You found him in the kitchen confessing to Alfred about being scared for his daughter. The old man desperately looked to you for release from the situation, which you were happy to provide.

Bruce got up from his chair, eyes zeroed in on you, and asked, “Is she okay? Does she need anything?”

You motioned for him to sit back down as you made some coffee. Once you set the mug down you told him what you had explained to her. Finally comforting him with, “She’s fine and asleep.”

“Thank you,” He said. “For being there for her. I don’t…”

“I’m glad I was here, so don’t worry about it.” You moved to get him another cup of coffee. “I’ll fill you in all the things you need to know. First and foremost, never blame her anger on her period. She’ll kill you, and so will I.”

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val-cansalute · 1 month

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summary: - a prologue of sorts - you and ellie will never be the same. the words you exchange are so deep seated and visceral, an accumulation of all the hurt. hers are telling; the love she gives is nothing like yours, nowhere near as intense, nowhere near as desperate. she’s closed off to you, and she may never be open again. she’s leaving town before it is even given a proper ending, to go on tour now that her music career is taking off. this is the end. at least for a few years.

warnings: not rlly proofread bc i ball too hard, angst with no comfort yet, dw it’ll come, ellie is dealing with trauma, references to sex.

an: every now and then i remember that alcohol exists but then i drink it and remember why i didnt drink it for ages. i hate alcohol. this shit is reaaaaally short cuz it’s just some context for the main story. it’s not really necessary to read but i wrote it anyway just because. unfortunately for me, bc whenever i start a story i get rlly anxious until its over, the next one prolly won’t be coming for a while since im gonna be travelling for a bit and i got quite a lot of stuff going on: love you guys, stay safe, never stop talking about palestine. do your clicks. :-)

masterlist

When you first saw Ellie, there were embers in her eyes - front of the pub, she didn’t even need a stage as she sang her heart out. Her captivating nature was enough to elevate her. Everyone else in the room faded to grey in the background, nothing more than a lively buzz punctuating the atmosphere. You were enraptured.

And she was too.

Hesitant glances from across the room at the same time each week, the music and the feeling was electric. The flush of her cheeks melted into the splotches of red from the sweltering heat each time she met your eyes. You sat on that same barstool; she stood in that same spotlight.

And when you started seeing each other, there were so many moments where you felt like your love for her was uncontainable. It spewed out of your pores and overwhelmed your senses every time she was near, even in spite of her soft and reserved demeanour.

It had a hold on you. Each time your lips met, it always became visceral for you, slow and sensual movements transforming into borderline aggression, tongue desperately searching her insides and tearing all the petals off the rose that was in her mouth. You wanted to consume her, suck her up and hold her in the comfort of your rib cage. She was everything to you.

And she was bound to fame. You knew it would come. She was made of stardust, and an aura so golden it would burst if confined in small town pubs any longer.

Sometimes, you gently trace the ridged edges of the polaroid pinned to your wall and feel a pool of warmth gather inside you at the feeling of familiarity her younger face brings. Her face, back then when her eyes seemed greener, her cheeks seemed fuller, her voice seemed clearer. It’s a sick feeling: nostalgia, remembering the way your intensity felt and what it has become.

If you stare too long, you’ll watch the grainy photograph melt and churn, the hues of her skin becoming duller and sunken inwards.

The house is quiet. It’s a silence so dense, you’re almost fooled into thinking Ellie isn’t home. But she is. She’s there, like a ghost lingering in the cracks of your walls.

It feels cold, with a lingering scent of whiskey and a heavy silence that creaks in the hollows of your ears, even for the weeks at a time that Ellie is home.

Maybe it’s a sick thought to have about the woman you would give up your life for, who you would do anything for, who you love more than anything in the world millions of times over, but you prefer it when there’s a distance between the two of you these days. Playing into that constant facade of everything being okay drains you of all your worth and for no return. Ellie gave up on it a while back. It’s just you prancing away solo on that stage now, like some jester.

You’ve become a slave to it, lost yourself out at sea trying desperately to make things okay, whatever that means. She'll never talk to you about it. There’s only scraps left to hide but she clings to them like they’re her lifeblood, tearing them away from you as if you’re just some stranger. Some stranger who watches her crumble to pieces and put herself back together, like she’s a damn mix and match, each time the memories come back to surface in her mind. You beg for more, for crumbs of her resolve but she’s gone. Not coming back.

Nothing has been okay. Nothing has ever been the same since Joel died. Ellie has never been the same. That day, he left and took a piece of her with him. A piece you know you’ll never get back.

There’s no room for argument, what is between the two of you is like glue that barely sticks, so you keep yourself deathly still and hold your breath with a pounding heart and complete desperation, not wanting to ruin anything further. But there’s so much you have to say, and no time to say it.

Instead, you watch her pull further away, see her eyes become duller, notice her absence get longer, feel the sex get colder, watch everything warp and twist and writhe until you’re beyond the point of no return. Until you’re not sure you trust her, or yourself, or the concept of anyone truly loving you the animalistic and self destructive way you loved them at any point in time.

It’s lonely on that island, watching her drift away, the person you thought completed you, she felt incomplete regardless of your presence.

You know the glue has faded when she turns to face you from the foot of the bed, looking so far away as she speaks.

"What? You're moving to LA?" She looks down at the fingers she’s twiddling, and takes a deep breath before continuing.

"Yeah, Max said it wa-"

"Well, how long?" You cut her off, already rising from the bed and moving closer. She meets your eyes but the look she gives doesn’t satiate your anxiety in any way, despite how you beg it to.

"... About that, we were thinking it might be… indefinite for now..."

Your heart stills in your chest and the blood rushes from your head. She can’t even look at you.

"Ellie. What the fuck… How are you just gonna dump this on me now? W-what about us? What are we gonna do? I already barely see you anymore,"

"I... I'm sorry but, I gotta do this. You know I do, if I'm gonna make a caree-"

Desperation takes over, your palms quivering erratically beneath you,

"Ellie… I know you care about your career, but, God, we've been together for so long. I love you so much, please don't do this to me,"

She raises her gaze to the ceiling and forces the lump down the dry, tight hollow of her throat,

"It's not forever, babe, I’ll come home.”

But you’re already shaking your head in dismissal of her blatantly dishonest words,

"You and I both know that that is not true. You’ve been desperate to go since it happened and I know I’m just an obstacle now.“

"That’s… That’s not true. I really can’t do this right now."

"You never can. And it’s because I fucking know you're not coming back, Ellie! And I'm not gonna sit around, waiting for you to call, only ever hearing about you through other people when we’ve been together for so many fucking years! I want you to be happy more than anything-“

"We can call.”

"But you fucking won't! And you're always drunk! You need to talk to me, Ellie, we're never gonna be okay if you don't!”

“I can’t be okay when I’m trapped here! All I can think about is him! I don’t eat, I don’t sleep!”

"But this isn’t gonna make anything better! We have something here! We said we would start a family together, Ellie… LA; you would never have wanted this… Okay? Joel would never have wanted this!"

She gets up and turns without a second thought at the sound of his name and your blood pressure spikes in complete desperation.

"Ellie, Ellie, please. I'm sorry. We can work through this, I promi-"

“I have to go.”

“No, you don’t! You aren’t being fair! You shut me out! You shut everyone out! I’ve been trying so fucking hard!"

"I know, and I’m fucking sorry, but I can't stay here, there's nothing left for me! I love you-"

Your voice is quiet and quivers with emotion that lulls her in, begging her to see that you need her - that she has always come first to you even if you’ve become secondary to her,

"Then prove it. Stay."

But her mind is already made up.

"… I can’t…”

You’re shaking your head,

“I have to do this.”

No, this is seriously the end.

“I'll come home."

You stop shaking your head and look at her.

“No. I can't wait around for you, Ellie, not when we’re like this. If you do this, it's over."

"That's up to you."

The rest of the night seems blurry to you. A deep despair festers to the brim of your skull. You can’t bring yourself to move once she’s gone, can’t bring your mind to calm itself down.

But once you do, the house is plunged into the darkness you encounter. The weight of Ellie still hangs thick in the air and lingers like a whine in the creaks of cold floorboards. As you leave the house you shared with Ellie, you pass through each room, switching the light on and then off, from top till the bottom, until you reach the last.

Click,

and then you leave, once and for all.

Pass round the bend and then by the sea. Watch the waves rise and then crash into each other, right where Ellie used to plant her feet beside you.

more pics of my cat bc she’s just so adorable 😩

#ellie tlou #ellie williams #ellie x reader #ellie x fem reader #ellie the last of us #tlou2 #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams x reader #fanfic #Spotify

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the-guilty-writer · 1 year

Text

Can't Lose Her Too

Request from anon: Hotch x daughter reader when her depression is really bad and she barely eats and sleeps all the time and doesnt want to see anyone or do anything??

Aaron Hotchner x daughter!reader

Summary: When your depression hits, your father’s ghosts come back to him.

A/N: Did I intend for this to be Taylor Swift related? No. Did it happen that way? Yes. Yes it did.

CW: reader has depression, mentions of reduced food intake, mentions of Haley and Foyet, lots of sad Hotch

---

When my depression works the graveyard shift All of the people I’ve ghosted stand there in the room - Taylor Swift, Anti-Hero

---

Aaron got home early for once- around 7 o’clock instead of the usual 9 to midnight. In addition to that, it was a Friday and Strauss had a different team on call that weekend, which meant no interruptions, no emergency cases, and more time with his kids.

He unlocked the door, stepped into the house, and was immediately greeted by Jack’s arms around his legs, throwing his balance for a second.

“Hey, buddy.” He smiled and ruffled his son’s hair.

“Hi, daddy.” Jack beamed up at him, his small arms still wrapped around his father’s legs. Aaron put down his briefcase by the door and picked the boy up- Jack was already 5 years old, but Aaron would carry him as long as he could, not wanting to miss more of his son's childhood than he already had.

“You’re home early,” Jessica said as she walked into the living area from the kitchen.

“Yeah,” he told her. “The team got lucky and we didn’t have as much work this week so I let everyone go home.” He put Jack down and the young boy ran off to resume playing with his toys.

“Well, everyone’s homework for the weekend is done. Jack already ate dinner and there’s some leftover in the fridge for you and (Y/N),” Jessica said.

Hotch furrowed his brow. “Still?”

Jessica sighed and looked down. “Still.”

When Haley died, one of the first things Aaron did was put you and Jack in counseling- better to do damage control now than to face the consequences years later- but it seemed, to no one's fault, that you were going to need more than that. The event with Foyet had left you traumatized, but you’d worked through it well. Even the loss of your mother wasn’t the cause of the lows you experienced.

Aaron knew better than anybody else that there were things about the brain that were unexplainable in origin and uncontrollable to the being it belonged to; he only wished you hadn’t been an unlucky victim of the chemical warfare of the mind. You’d already been a victim of too much already.

“Thanks again for watching them,” he said.

Jessica shook her head. “We’re family. It’s what we do.” She said goodbye to Jack and grabbed her coat before heading out the door.

“Daddy!” Jack called. “Can you come play?”

“A little later, buddy.” Aaron had made his way to the kitchen, heating up leftover dinner for you and himself. “I’m going to check on your sister.”

“Can I come too?” Jack asked.

Hotch hesitated. You were prone to irritability, especially when your depression became exceptionally overwhelming. Of course, you’d never purposefully say anything mean to your brother, but it was better that the only people in your room- your personal space- were you and the adults you trusted.

“Well,” he said, “it's almost your bedtime. So why don’t you get ready for bed and after I talk to (Y/N) we can read a story.”

“Even a comic book?”

“Even a comic book.”

Jack dashed upstairs without another word. Aaron plated the food for you and him, carefully carrying it up the stairs and knocking on your bedroom door.

“Sweetheart,” he called softly- it was the nickname he had been calling you since you were a child, just as he had always used “buddy” for Jack. “Can I come in?”

There was a murmured “Sure” that came through the door. When Aaron stepped through, he wasn’t surprised to find that the lights were off and you were wiping sleep away from your eyes.

“Hey,” he closed the door behind him and turned the lights on as dim as they could go. “You take a nap?”

“Yeah,” you said sleepily.

“I figured we could eat dinner together.” He sat on the edge of the bed and handed you a plate, though he wasn’t sure if you would actually eat it or just cut it into pieces and push it around with your fork.

“What time is it?” You asked.

“7:30,” he said. He began to eat his dinner, watching passively to see if you would too. “Jack is getting ready for bed.”

You nodded and took a small bite of food- a baby step forward. The rest of the meal was eaten slow and silent, but your dad didn't mind. Any time he got to spend with you was precious, especially since you didn't want to do much these days. Any time you ate something, anything, offered to you it brought him relief.

You finished about a fourth of your meal. Your dad knew better than to question if you wanted more- instead he just put your plate on top of his empty one.

“You want to do anything once Jack goes to sleep?” he asked.

You shook your head. “I’m tired.”

“Okay.” He placed a kiss on your forehead. “Goodnight, sweetheart. I love you.”

“Love you too,” you mumbled and tucked yourself back under the covers.

He left your room, quietly closing the door behind him. He put the plates by the staircase so he wouldn’t forget to take them down before he went to bed and then walked to Jack’s room. The door was wide open, the little boy already wearing his favorite set of fire truck pajamas and tucked under the covers. Aaron expected him to be holding a comic book- one of the new ones with Captain America on it- but instead he was holding Haley’s candle.

“No comic book?” he asked.

Jack shook his head. “No. I thought we could talk to mommy instead.”

Aaron smiled just a little and nodded. He knelt next to Jack and lit the candle for him. The reflection of the flame danced in his dilated pupil as he silently thought of his mom and then he blew it out.

“All done,” Jack said.

Aaron placed the candle on the nightstand and gave Jack a kiss on the forehead, just as he had done for you. “Goodnight, buddy. I love you.”

“I love you too, daddy,” Jack said, settling under the blankets.

Aaron walked to the door and flipped off the lights. He was about to leave when he heard Jack’s voice again.

“I asked mommy if she could grant me a wish,” he said.

“Oh?” Jack didn’t usually tell your dad what he ‘talked’ to his mom about, which was something he was okay with. His children’s relationship with their mother was sacred and personal- something they should only have to share with others if they wanted to. “You did?”

“Yeah,” Jack said, his head peeking out from under the blankets. “I asked her to help (Y/N) get better.”

A sad smile warped Aaron’s features. “That’s a nice thing to ask for.”

“Yeah,” Jack hummed sleepily. “Goodnight, daddy.”

“Goodnight, buddy.”

Aaron closed the door and went back downstairs. The silence in the house was deafening- there should have been a movie on, or the clicking of a keyboard, or even soft music playing from your phone. But you were upstairs asleep, not wanting to do anything or be with anyone. He could have taken the time to enjoy the quiet, but he couldn’t. He tried to read, or get ahead on paperwork, or even clean (though the house didn’t need it), but he couldn’t be happy about the silence that was a result of your loss of joy.

He went to bed early, following his normal night routine until he got into bed and rolled over onto his side.

Haley’s candle was on the nightstand.

He sat up, taking a deep breath before gently reaching for the candle and lighting it. A tear fell from his eye as he watched the flame burn in front of him- a reminder of everything he had lost.

Honey, he thought. If you hear this, please help her. I’ve already lost you… I can’t lose her too.

I really can’t lose her too.

#criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x daughter!reader #aaron hotchner x child!reader #hotch x daughter!reader #hotch x child!reader #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x y/n #criminal minds x platonic!reader #criminal minds x teen!reader #criminal minds x daughter!reader #criminal minds x child!reader

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hp-hcs · 6 months

Note

i love ur fics sm omf.....

i am massively abnormal and mentally ill so thinking ab yan theo and mattheo with a gryffindor reader, clearly toxic but in which reader tries to break up with them .... failing miserably and just getting manipulated by them about how he's gonna get hurt and everyone but them wants to hurt him. he refuses to believe which just makes them go take the violent route since he was making it hard for them 🙁

and could i possibly be 🦦 anon? hope im not bothering, have a nice day or night !! <3

of course you can, lovely 🦦 anon!!

i absolutely adore the amount of angst in this request

also no i totally didnt base a lot of this on my own ex bf what no thatd be crazy

abuse warning! stay safe!!

toxic — yandere! manipulative! theodore nott x gn! reader x yandere! manipulative! mattheo riddle

requests open

‼️heavy abuse warning‼️

(physical, verbal, emotional, & psychological; lots of manipulation and gaslighting)

U.S. National Domestic Violence Hotline: 800-799-7233

Text line: Text START to 88788

YOU DESERVE SAFETY. YOU ARE NOT ALONE.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

“We’re breaking up. I can’t do this anymore.”

Theodore looked up at you quizzically from where he was reading on the couch. “Hm?”

“I’m breaking up with you. Both of you.”

“Oh, darlin’,” Mattheo sighed, shaking his head. “We can’t in good conscience let you do that.”

“See, here’s the thing, Matty,” you laugh humorlessly. “I don’t care.”

“But baby,” Theo said softly, his eyebrows furrowing as he looked at you with puppy dog eyes.

You steeled yourself as you started to feel the melting effects of that damn expression of his. “I can’t. Not anymore. It’s too fucking exhausting.”

“What is, baby?” Theodore pleaded, reaching out to grab your hand. “Tell us so we can fix it.”

The urge to shy away from this conversation, to apologize profusely for trying to leave, and to shove all of your emotions down until you felt numb again was overwhelming.

Theo rubbed the knuckles of your hand with his thumb. “Baby…”

You took a breath and steeled yourself again. “The everything, Theo. The lying. The cheating. The benders every weekend. The screaming at each other and the ghosting me. The waiting for me to come crawling back to you. Begging you to take me back every fucking time. Apologizing for everything even when it wasn’t my fault.”

“Ba-”

“No. I’m talking right now. The manipulation. The love bombing. I’m sick of it. I’m. Done.”

“Now, c’mon, darlin’,” Mattheo said placatingly. “Don’t be like that. You know none of that was our fault.”

“None? You slept with half of our year while we were dating.”

“Are,” Theo corrected. “Are dating.”

“Cute. No.”

“Baby, who else could possibly love you as much as we do?” Mattheo pouted, reaching out for your wrist and using it to tug you down onto his lap.

You stiffened, trying to free your wrist from his slowly tightening grasp. “Literally anyone. It’s not like you guys do anything.”

“Don’t do anything? Sweetheart, we protect you,” Theo chuckled with a sharp smile.

“Oh yeah?” You scoffed, managing to free your wrist and get out of Mattheo’s lap. “Protect me from who?”

“There’s a lot of bad people out there, doll. People who’d want to hurt you if they got the chance.”

“What, like you?”

“We’ve never laid a hand on you, sweetheart. Not once,” Mattheo sneered the last word like a curse, his greedy hands reaching out to snatch your arm again.

You flinched minutely, stepping back from his grasping hands. “I don’t care. We’re over, whether you like it or not.”

“Oh, stop it, darlin’,” Theo cooed patronizingly, standing up from the couch and crowding into your space. “You need us. Who else would care about you as much as we do? Who else would want you?”

“I. Don’t. Care.” You gritted out, shoving at his chest.

The boys shared a look—one you couldn’t quite read.

Suddenly, Theodore caught your jaw in his hand, squeezing tight. “You’d better shut up, sweetheart. Before one of us gets mad.”

“Dude, are you threatening me? I wi-”

Your sentence was cut off by a harsh slap.

You froze, mouth hanging open.

Your hand slowly went to your stinging cheek as you stared at him with wide, disbelieving eyes.

Theo at least had the tact to look guilty. “Baby- baby, I’m so sorry- it was an accident, I swear.”

You didn’t move, still processing what had just happened.

“Sweetheart? Darlin’, I’m sorry. I really am. You were just making me so mad…It was an accident, swear. It’ll never happen again, promise,” he cooed gently, stooping down to cup your cheeks in his hands with utter gentleness and care.

He hissed sympathetically when you flinched back from the pressure on your already-reddening cheek, gently stroking his thumb over it.

As you looked up at his apologetic and remorseful expression, you could feel a flicker of tenderness as you were reminded of the sweet boy you fell in love with in the first place.

“It’s okay, Theo,” you whispered, your words betrayed by the way your voice cracked. You swallowed thickly, blinking back the tears that threatened to spill from your eyes. “It was an accident.”

Theo made a show of sighing in relief. “Thank you, darling. But now you know to shut your mouth, don’t you baby? You know I don’t wanna hear you fucking saying that shit again, mhm?”

You just nodded mechanically.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

hey! guess what! it absolutely will happen again! if your partner ever hits you, call a friend to come get you and then leave. it’s not worth it to stay, trust me.

to my taglisters! i haven’t tagged you in this due to its sensitive content. you know your boundaries and limits better than i do. stay safe.

— hp-hcs xx

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kairiscorner · 11 months

Text

(reblogs are greatly appreciated, it helps get my content out there! if you guys like what you see, please reblog it too <:D)

dang it i just got another little drabble

a late call on a stormy night with miggy.

imagine calling miguel in the middle of the night when it's raining, when you should be asleep, when you should be catching up on all the nights you should've been resting when instead all you've done was stay up and carry the multiverse on your shoulders along with him.

you know you should be sleeping, you know your body would thank you so damn much right now for falling asleep, maybe for days on end and just think of nothing. but you're not. you're wide awake because of the thunder clapping in the distance, the flashes of lightning that strike through the sky and evoke for your eyelids to fly open and forget your need to sleep.

rainy nights are wonderful to listen to, but stormy nights are the pits.

you sighed as you rubbed your eyes with your palms, wishing that the overwhelming sounds and sights would vanish as soon as they came; but unfortunately, the weather gave no sign of relenting, and you gave no sign of wanting to sleep any time soon.

you sat up in your bed, feeling like absolute crap since it's been days since your last full cycle of sleep. you ran on nothing but energy bars, instant coffee, and general workaholism. you sighed as you got up and checked your phone for the latest weather forecast, trying to distract yourself from the rain pouring outside your window and from the roaring of thunder outside.

you looked through your messages, nothing new there. but as soon as you were about to close your phone to try and regain some motivation to sleep, you received a notification from your colleague, miguel o'hara. you grumbled as you opened the conversation, hoping with all your might that he wouldn't unreasonably summon you to HQ to handle some technical problems yet again.

as soon as you opened the conversation, all you were greeted with was a singular, "are you up right now?"

you blinked in confusion, but you felt obliged to reply. "ye, wsp?" you messaged. you weren't scared of casually messaging miguel like that, unliked everyone else, you were the only one he had more casual talks with, someone he actually found comfort and fun in talking to, which was incredibly rare for the man since all he thought of was the fate of the multiverse or something.

"can we talk? like, right now." he messaged back. "but arent we talking rn" you were in the middle of typing, when all of a sudden, the screen changed from your messages with him to the screen of a call from him coming on your phone. you nearly jumped at the abrupt transition, but you bore it anyway. you clicked the accept button on the call, and you saw your own face being lit up solely by the blue light being emitted from your phone on your screen, and his end being... just his ceiling.

"uh, did you call me, or did a ghost do it for you?" you joked. "ay, mierda, sorry." miguel said hastily as he soon picked up the phone, and in a flash, you went from looking up at his boring, beige ceiling, to suddenly seeing his sculpted, tanned face; seeing up close his left hazelnut brown eye and a furrowed eyebrow. "guess i accidentally clicked the call button, sorry." he cleared up as he angled the camera to his face properly, a sign he didn't want to end the call right then and there.

you smiled as you saw him. "looking good, o'hara, for a half-asleep mess of a man." you remarked, to which he rolled his eyes, unamused. "haha, thanks." he said as he cracked a small smile as he looked away from the camera for a second. "did you get any sleep?" you asked as the thunder clapped yet again in the distance, causing you to shake a little.

he shook his head. "got too much to think about to sleep." he admitted as he looked at your shaken figure. "you okay?" he asked as he heard the rumbling of the thunder in the distance. "oh, i suppose not." he muttered as he looked at you, who got back into bed and curled up under the covers.

miguel looked at you with some form of sympathy in his eyes. "do you... want me to, oh nevermind." he put down his suggestion as he turned away, about to head back into bed himself and end the call. "to what?" you pressed him as he was about to drop the call. his finger hovered over the end call button, but he soon pulled it back and looked at you for a few seconds before he continued his thought. "would you like me to... talk to you for the night?" he suggested as he looked at you, your eyes looking back at his own, which made him look away for a little to compose himself.

"i, um... i know how much you hate the sound of thunder and the sudden flashes of lightning, i hate them, too." he admitted as he looked away from you still, trying to get to the point of what he was trying to tell you. "and, um... the way i get through them when it rains that bad here is by talking to lyla, but i remembered you don't have anyone like her, so... here i am, talking to you right now, and, uh... yeah." he mumbled.

you slowly smiled at each and every word he uttered, it made you feel like you weren't alone that night, even if you two were worlds apart, and living alone in your own homes. you nodded. "how charming." you said with a slight chuckle as you set up your phone directly across from your face as you snuggled up in your bed as the rain kept pouring and hammering down your windows and roof. "talk to me." you told him in a gentle voice as he looked at you finally and chuckled himself.

"alright..." he began as he initiated some small talk with you, which, as the long hours of the night went on, became long-winded conversations you two had almost all the time when you two were together in person. you two laughed, smiled, frowned a little, and comforted each other as the rain got louder at times, as the thunder clapped, and as the lightning striked.

"i'm so glad..." you trailed off as you yawned and miguel smiled a little seeing your yawning face. "...you were the one i could talk to tonight." you admitted to him with a grin on your face. "hey, same here." he said as he looked into your eyes from across the screen. you two didn't end the call there, however, you two kept talking to each other for a longer while throughout the night; seeming as though the night was the only time you two were truly active, truly yourselves.

the morning came not long after, and you woke up, having only remembered a few bits of the conversations you had late at night. it was pretty fuzzy, seeing as how you were sleep deprived for a week and could barely sleep due to the damned storm. you sighed as you sat up in bed, content with having at least a few hours of unbothered rest.

but soon, you jolted up in your bed to hear a guttural snore next to you. you looked around you, of course no one else was next to you physically, your bed was too small for it, plus you lived alone. then who was...? you turned around and found your phone, barely hanging on to its last percentage of battery, with miguel's sleeping face on there; him snoring loudly all the while as he mumbled your name in his sleep.

you chuckled. "good morning, miggy." you greeted him, to which miguel found himself waking up to. "hang on, i wanna talk to y... oh." he said in a groggy voice as he saw your face on his screen, with bed head and a sweet smile. "shit, how long's this been on?" he asked with a chuckle. "probably for hours." you pointed out.

he sat up in bed and turned to look at your face in the screen. "you look... pretty." he remarked as he brought his phone closer to his face. "so do you." you said in a sleepy voice. "can we, um... do what we did last night every night?" he asked in a sleepy, yet hopeful voice. "if you're up for it." you teased. "i'm always up for seeing you the moment i sleep to the moment i wake up." he admitted with a sma blush on his face. "always." he repeated as his face disappeared from your screen, with a black screen replacing him in his wake. you sighed but smiled as well, knowing you'd see him today.

"guess i'm grateful for the thunder and lightning at least once in my life."

a/n: I LOVE HIM SOSOSOSOOSOSSOSOOSO MUCH

tags !! @thecoolerdor @miguelswifey04 @luvstarrstruck

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x y/n #atsv miguel #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel x reader #atsv imagine #atsv x reader #atsv x you #atsv x y/n

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ghosts-bandwagon · 1 year

Note

that s/o avoids their touch as joke prompt you did was amazing! could we get one with all the 141 + los vaqueros where you’re avoiding them on purpose? maybe you’ve got really bad anxiety and can’t handle the extra stimulation?

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley:

He knows something is off immediately

I feel like out of everyone, he’s the most understanding and will absolutely give you space

He’s standing outside your door, gently knocking and talking with a low quiet voice, “I’m out here when you’re ready.”

And true enough he’s stood outside your door, leaning against the wall, patiently waiting for you and even when the door opens quietly, he waits for you to call him into your room

And even when you call him inside, he’ll wait a few seconds just in case you change your mind, even goes so far as to check in with you to make sure you’re ok with him coming in

John ‘Soap’ MacTavish:

He’s a little taken aback but he respects your space, he might not quite get it at first but he won’t argue, he’ll give you your space regardless

He doesn’t really know what to do with himself so he walks off to the living room, watched some TV but then he gets a little restless, so he gets up and starts cleaning up a bit

And then he hears your voice quietly call out to him and my man drops everything and starts booking it to your room

His first instinct is to bombard you with questions but he’s aware that it’ll make your anxiety worse so he stays quiet and lets you take the lead

John Price:

Gives you your space without question

“Don’t rush, sweetheart, I’ll be in the living room if you need me.”

And sure enough he’s chilling on the couch, tv is on but he’s not really paying attention. He’s in the kitchen fixing you guys some lunch, idly tuning in to the tv. Even if you don’t come out right away, he sets it aside for you when you’re ready

If it’s late by the time you’ve settled down a bit, he might be snoring on the couch but he wakes up as soon as he hears the door open, he doesn’t say anything as you silently trudge over and plop beside him onto the couch

He’s got his arms along the back of the couch so you curl into his side, head against his chest, he gently drapes his arm over your shoulder and brings you in a little closer, he kisses the top of your head and breathe a quiet sigh of relief and contentment.

Kyle ‘Gaz’ Gerrick:

He’ll ask you what’s wrong immediately, he’s worried he did something to upset you, but as soon as you tell him you’re a bit overwhelmed and need a moment, he backs off and gives you space

He’s struggling to keep himself busy and he’s having a hard time not barraging you with love and affection, his knee jerk reaction is to try to fix whatever it is that’s got you worked up

But he loves and respects you too much to impose himself like that, so he waits for you to give him the ok for some lovin

Even when you call him to your room because you’ve decompressed enough to be ok being around him, he’s biting his cheek to keep himself from hugging and kissing and squeezing you, so you’ll have to take the lead and gently lean into him, his affection is gentle and patient

Alejandro Vargas:

He’ll ask if you’re feeling alright but will back off when you tell him you need a moment to yourself

“Ok, mi vida, let me know if there’s anything you need ok?”

He gives you your space, maybe too much space. He physically leaves and runs a couple errands, making sure to get you all your favorite things while he’s out: favorite snacks, sweets, fruits, drinks, food, he bought your favorite flowers, that book you were eyeballing a few weeks ago

When he comes back home, arms full of gifts for you, he sees you walking about in the kitchen and checks in with you to make sure you’re feeling better

If you’re not, don’t sweat it, take your time. If you’re feeling better, then he’ll ask if it’s ok to hug you and if you give him your blessing, he will. And then he shows you all the things he got for you while he was out and about.

Rodolfo Parra:

He’s so gentle and understanding it’s not even funny, honestly? King.

Even though you’ve told him you need a moment to yourself, all he asks is that you leave your door open a little bit so he can walk past and check in on you

That’s a lie. He asked you to keep it open so he can leave all your favorite snacks on the table by your door, he’s got fresh cold water, your favorite fruits, some sweets, favorite chips

Just because you want some space, that doesn’t mean he won’t still take care of you. He’ll clean up the house a bit, load up the dishwasher, get the laundry going, light a couple candles and maybe put on some sweet instrumental music

With all that indirect affection, how could you possibly not call him into your room and let him love you?

884 notes · View notes

icallhimjoey · 7 months

Note

Could we do a prequel of “ground rules” like what really happened that night..

someone requested this nearly a whole year ago, i found it whilst trying to clean up my inbox and, okay so FINE, the girlies want smut ???? they can GET it, enjoy (fiy: this can totally be read on its own w/o needing to be aware of what ground rules is even about) (cw: 18+ smut) Wordcount: 4.9K

---

Inside Out & Outside In

(read Ground Rules here)

Ghosted.

You’d seen this guy three times, had talked to each other for over a month.

Ghosted.

Three lovely dates. Were absolutely planning on taking it there tonight. Had shaved your whole body, were wearing matching underwear which never fucking happened, were lotioned and potioned and ready. Smelled fucking amazing.

Only to be fucking ghosted.

He said he’d meet you at a certain restaurant you’d really wanted to go to, and then… just didn’t show. Calls went unanswered until they got declined. Blocked? Maybe. But why? For what? Weren't you unbelievably hot, and nice, and kind, and smart, and cute, et cetera, et cetera?

After waiting for way longer than you should’ve, you texted a friend. Asked if they were still having people over that night and if it was okay if you stopped by too – you’d turned down the invite earlier, because you had a hot date, obviously.

“yes please come! everyone’s here” got followed by a more concerned, “everything ok?”

No, not really, but maybe after another drink you would be.

You walked into your friend’s flat and were welcomed by about fifteen people shouting loud heys and hellos, all upbeat and happy and cheery.

Joe took one look and saw you were definitely not feeling all upbeat or happy or cheery, and went to fetch you a drink whilst you explained to the friend you’d texted that he just… he didn’t show up.

“What the fuck? He just… he just bailed on you? Did you call? Or text?”

“I did, but–”

“Weren’t you seeing him for a little while already?” someone else chimed in, and you realized that your friend must’ve informed everyone else. Or, at least, some people. Not that this was a huge party – just, a get-together, a gathering. Just some people over in her flat, drinks and snacks and loud laughter with some background music going. Like a night at the pub, but cheaper, and open ‘til later.

“No they went on– you went on a couple dates, right? My God, and to then just…”

“Did you get stood up?”

“Yea, I–”

“Hey, come on,” Joe interrupted, holding up a drink for you but nodding his head towards the balcony. Get you out of this overwhelming bombarding of questions. You didn’t need telling twice.

Outside, you leant on the banister with Joe next to you and just took quiet sips of your drinks in silence for a second. Joe rolled a cigarette and didn’t really say anything. Didn’t ask anything. Not until you sniffed loudly and he saw you were trying your best to blink tears away, to suck the excess water that was starting to pool there back into your tear ducts somehow.

“Hey, he’s an idiot. Proper dickhead.”

You let a wet laugh escape you and nodded. “Yea, he is.”

“How long did you wait around for?”

You winced, annoyed and disappointed with yourself for how long you sat in that restaurant by yourself.

“Too long,” but then you immediately defended, “But you know, I didn’t want to assume the worst. What if something happened? What if there was a good reason for– maybe he was just running late, you know? People run late sometimes for valid reasons, don't they?”

Joe nodded, lighting his cigarette and filling his lungs with smoke before he blew it out to the side, away from you. Considerate.

“You’re too kind for this world, you know?”

You grimaced, and Joe went, “No, that’s a good thing! We need more people like that. Like you.”

“Yea. Well. Thanks, I guess...”

You didn’t mean it, thought it just made your life unnecessarily and unfairly difficult, but Joe wasn’t one to press it any further.

Another silence fell where you listened to the noises coming from inside. Someone knocked over a glass which caused commotion and you could hear the beat, the soft bass, of whatever song was playing.

You drank, and Joe smoked in between sips and you both looked down at the street. A car was trying to parallel park and failing miserably at it. The silence and lack of attention on you was just what you needed to open up.

“I was really starting to fancy him,”

“Yea? Already?”

“Wouldn’t have gone to see him again if I didn’t,”

“Makes sense,” Joe tapped some ashes over the banister, “That’s actually smart… also makes this extra shit.”

Yea, it did.

“I think… maybe I’m just, I think I’m just a bad judge of character, because I don’t–” you stopped because your throat did something funny. You had to cough to mask the sob that got stuck in there and tried to hide your wet eyes as you turned away from Joe.

But Joe saw.

Joe knew.

“Darlin’,” Joe tossed his cigarette and took hold of you by a shoulder. Made you turn back to make eye-contact.

Yea, you were definitely crying.

“Come here.”

You got pulled into a hug and decided that, yea, fuck it, you were totally allowed to cry actually. A shitty thing had happened and it was absolutely fine to be sad about that. It didn’t exactly help that whilst you waited at the restaurant, you’d downed two fat glasses of wine already and were now halfway through a beer, but... Joe was there and he was nice, and friendly, and was warm and hugged you tight, and didn’t ask invasive questions, and, wasn’t that somehow just exactly what you needed?

You stood like that for a while, just in Joe’s tender embrace in the cold air, blinking slow tears down your face every now and then.

A knock on the window made you want to turn, to pull away from Joe to see who that was and why they wanted your attention. But Joe wouldn’t let you. You felt how he shook his head at whoever was on the other side of the sliding door and didn’t let his grip waver.

Apparently there was some sort of nonverbal communication, because next you felt Joe jerk his head to the side. You imagined he nodded in the direction he wanted that person to disappear into. Imagined his frowning fuck off facial expression.

“Who is that?” you asked, voice a little constricted because you had a throat full of weird emotions.

“No one important.”

You huffed a laugh. The people inside were all of your friends – they were all important.

After another short silence, Joe let his arms slip down and pulled back. You weren’t off the hook yet, though. Joe kept his arms loosely around you and forced eye-contact.

“You okay?”

“Yea...” you lied as you sniffed.

“...you sure?”

You huffed a laugh and were honest when you said, “No.”

You saw Joe’s worried eyes scan your features, seemingly looking for something hidden in your eyes. Then his eyes cast down and looked at the drink you were holding still.

“Need something stronger?”

“Yes, please.”

Joe smiled at you, impossibly warm, and kind, and sweet. It was the sort of grin that was impossible not to copy.

“I’ll be just a sec,” Joe said, stepping towards the door. “Do not do anythi– keep both those feet on the ground, no irrational silly decisions.”

You gave him a deadpan stare followed by an eye-roll that made him laugh.

“All right. Just checking,” Joe disappeared inside and couldn’t fight his smile.

Neither could you.

Inside you saw people try to grab his attention, try to ask him if you were okay, what was going on with you. It was all well-meant attention, but exactly the opposite of what Joe wanted. He’d assigned himself the role of carer for the night. Would lend you either shoulder of his for you to cry on for however long you needed.

Joe wasn't going to lie; he fucking loved this.

Obviously it was awful that you were sad, but to be able to swing in and protect a fragile pretty girl all night? Sign him the fuck up.

It’s why he ended up ignoring everyone for the rest of the night. Told people to leave you alone, that you needed a minute, to not bother you a second. Hogged you all night. Kept you out on the balcony and fetched you drinks and snacks. And when you started getting cold, only more reason to hug you, to try and keep you warm.

And, listen, so what if you started playing up how sad you actually really were?

So what if you used a face on Joe that you knew would make him go, “No, stop it, don’t cry, enough now,” whilst using a palm to push your head into his chest?

So what if, after a quiet murmuring conversation whilst hugging, you shivered because just Joe’s arms around your back weren’t warming you up enough, and to fix it, Joe opened his coat and let you snuggle inside whilst he wrapped the wool mix fabric tightly around your back?

So what if you were a little more into the attention than you were letting on, and started mentally thanking the universe for that wanker standing you up tonight?

You deserved nice things too.

And Joe was a nice thing.

Joe made soft jokes about the people you were both looking at inside. Said some of them definitely deserved to be ghosted by someone, unlike you. Made you turn your attention towards the moon, because look how nice it looked tonight. Let you complain about your lack of love life and was self-deprecating about his love life in return, just to make you smile.

Joe let you try a hand at rolling a cigarette for him, which you’d never done before. It was obvious too. When you handed him a barely-there sad excuse for a cigarette, all pretend-proud because you knew exactly how shite it was, Joe carefully took it from you and inspected it with a funny face, eyes all narrow, eyebrows up high on his face. Made you giggle. But then he went and actually tried to light it, and you laughed, tried to take it from him and said, “No, don't actually smoke it!” but Joe was quick to hold it out of your reach as he blew out a little smoke and said, “It's perfect.”.

Joe warmed you up from the inside out and from the outside in. With more drinks, and whispered jokes, and empathetic eyes, and squeezing hugs, and with the body heat trapped between his button-down and his coat.

After one particular tight squeeze, you felt your whole body react. Unmistakably you felt it mostly inside of your underwear.

Fanny-flutter.

That sort of made sense. How could any of this not have an effect on you? And it wasn’t as if it didn’t have an effect on Joe, either.

You easily confessed, alcohol in your veins lessening the sensitivity to rejection, not at all bothered about what Joe's reaction would be. You had expected it would definitely make him feel awkward, would maybe scare him off, but instead, he’d gone, “Yea? Feel this,” and had guided your hand to his crotch. He was half-hard.

Inside, one of your friends saw and grabbed another by the forearm, eyes bulging with shock. Joe’s coat covered your hand from direct view, and the light from inside reflected in the windows, but that was definitely your hand pressing onto a penis. The windows were big and you were stood right in front. How was no one to notice this? It was just the one friend at first though, but her gasp followed by the arm grab made two people see.

Then two more.

Then five, seven– eight.

“Did he just...?”

“I fucking told you– I called it! Didn't I call this an hour ago?”

You faked needing to go to the toilet and left without telling your friends goodbye.

Two minutes later Joe excused himself, said he was tired and would see everyone next week, and had found you waiting for him just outside the building.

He took some hurried steps and stopped to stand right in front of you, peering down and smiling slightly. You’d been close all night, bodies either touching or close enough to touch, and even though it had just been mere minutes, Joe had started missing it already, so he stood close and looked down at you and smiled. Waited.

His coat was hanging open still from when you’d been inside of it, and with the wind picking up, you used it as an excuse to keep your hands and fingers busy because, what the fuck were you and Joe actually going to do?

Tension had risen enough on the balcony, and you’d essentially snuck out after revealing to each other that you’d turned each other on.

You and Joe didn’t do this.

Had never done this.

But all you knew is that you wanted to be close to him, and so your fingers slowly buttoned up his coat, starting from the bottom. Joe didn’t move and tried to control his breathing as he watched your eyes drag up his body one button at a time.

You let your hands linger after doing up the last one, fingers touching the fabric that covered his chest, and you swallowed as you stared. Imagined the skin that was hidden underneath all the layers there.

“Mine or yours?” Joe asked, voice impossibly soft.

Your breath hitched, and on the back-end of an exhale you managed to say, “You live closer.”

“All right,” Joe grinned widely and presented his open palm, “Let’s go then.”.

You grabbed onto it and turned to start the short walk, but Joe was cemented in place and pulled you right back, swinging you back and right into him. You’d have laughed at how clumsy that collision felt if it wasn’t for Joe’s lips clashing with yours on the impact.

You wished it didn’t take you by surprise as much as it did, because you knew Joe must’ve felt how you went rigid all over for a second and he was about to pull back in response. Like he’d made a mistake and only realized by your reaction.

The slightest hint of Joe not kissing you, however, was enough to kickstart your whole system and you moved to chase after him which resulted in the kiss never even breaking, and Joe released a small noise from his throat.

Not a mistake, then.

He kissed you harder when you reciprocated, and it was cold out, but Joe was warm, and you and Joe had never done this before – had never even looked at each other and considered this to be a possibility, and it was exciting. The buildup had felt so very natural and, listen, you were both adults, weren’t you? Could do what you wanted to do. Didn’t have to talk everything over because, well, doing this, doing what your bodies felt like doing, was just nicer.

Joe shook his hand from the one he was still holding onto and moved them up to hold your face. Cupped your jaw and held your head in place as he kissed you more. You had to hold onto his wrists for fear of losing balance, or maybe for fear of floating away entirely.

The sound of a balcony door opening high up above you somewhere sprung anxiety into Joe’s legs.

He broke the kiss, found your hand again and said, “Quick. Come on,” and pulled you right along the pavement, your shorter legs doing the most to try and keep up.

Quick legs nearly jogged themselves down a couple of streets, and knees impatiently clicked in and out of over-stretching as you had to wait for some cars to pass when you had to cross a road. Joe took the moment to bring your colder hand up to his face, cupping it with both of his and blowing some hot air onto your fingers before he planted kisses there.

You let an almost pained noise escape you, said, “Can’t be so sweet to me. Makes me want to be sweet back.” which was music to Joe’s ears.

About a minute removed from Joe’s flat, you felt a drop on your forehead. Then another. You held out a hand, and felt how quickly the rain picked up.

“Shit, come on,” Joe said, squinting up at the sky and tightening his grip on your hand before he started running.

It only took a second for the couple of drops to turn into a sudden torrential downpour. The water was cold, and it hurt your forehead, but you were laughing as you ran. This all felt ridiculous.

Joe had to let go of your hand to get into his building, and you saw his wet hands fumble with his keys a little. Joe noticed his own shaky fingers and knew you were watching too, so he overdid it. Shook so hard, he dropped the keys and made you laugh.

“Oh my God, hurry up,” you pretended to want to take over, but you got playfully shoved to the side and just got more wet in the process.

Both ways.

When he eventually pushed the door open, he held it and did a silly little bow whilst gesturing for you to walk inside first.

Ever the gentleman. Meant he'd be outside in the rain longer.

He took hold of you by the waist with both hands and dug his fingers in firmly over your coat. You were a tipsy mess of soft giggles as you covered his hands with yours, easily letting yourself be lead towards the lift.

Each time there was a second of you not being as close, it was his hands to moved you back in.

Outside the lift you kissed some more.

Inside the lift you kissed some more.

Outside Joe’s door you kissed some more, hands roaming over clothes.

Inside Joe’s flat you kissed some more, hands roaming under clothes.

Wet coats and shoes got discarded in a messy heap by the door.

You noticed that Joe’s ears had significantly darkened in colour, from more than the cold rain could’ve done to them. They were so fucking red, you could practically feel the phantom burn in your own.

You couldn’t remember the last time you’d been in here, in his flat. Maybe a couple months ago when you and some friends picked him up on your way somewhere, dipped inside real quick because one needed the toilet and another had never seen the place before.

You hadn’t been there often at all, but you knew the way to his bedroom. Made your way there blindly, because all you could see was the inside of your eyelids as Joe kept his face firmly attached to yours.

In there, you bumped your hip into a dresser and nearly tripped over something left on the floor. Joe made noises as if he could feel your pain and pulled you snug against him by the hips. Made you be able to feel his entirety through his trousers, and something in the back of your brain sparked.

Instead of focusing on your own clothes, your mind was with getting Joe out of his first. You wanted to feel him. You’d get to you later.

Wrong.

Joe got to you immediately.

He pulled on the hem of your top and worked it over your head, leaving your to blow a mess of hair from your face which didn't work because it was all wet strands that stuck to wet skin. You heard Joe suppress a giggle, used a kiss to not let it slip out, because fucking God, you were so fucking cute.

Your fingers found Joe’s trousers to undo, but Joe was quick to take over. Knew it’d be faster if he did it himself.

“You’re going to have to talk to me,” Joe panted, shoulders pulled up high and chin tucked in as he undid the button to his trousers, carefully handling the zipper. You frowned as you peeled your wet jeans from your legs, nearly losing your balance as you did.

Was okay though. Joe caught you with a strong arm before you did.

“Tell me what you like,”

Considerate. But you weren’t one to say all that much during getting to know someone like this. Joe could get some panting yesses and some encouraging moans from you to guide him along, but that’d sort of be it.

“Tell me what you don’t,” Joe added, because your lack of answer translated into hesitation from you.

The rain was really coming down harder now, violent and unrelenting, tapping hard against the windows of his bedroom. It was nice for background noise, didn’t leave the silence awkward. Muffled everything a little and you were glad you couldn't hear your own heartbeat in your ears because that meant Joe wouldn't be able to hear it rattle in your chest either.

With his arm still around your waist from making sure you didn’t topple over, Joe crowded in more, and where touches and kisses had been hurried and messy since stepping over the threshold, Joe took a second to just... be close.

Let his nose circle yours without letting your lips meet.

It turned you on so much, it kind of drove you mad.

He took a small step forwards that forced you to take one backwards.

You curled both arms behind your back to unclasp your bra, and Joe was quick to remove it from between the two of you, letting it drop to the floor. You heard his careful breathing, felt it on your face as his grip around you tightened as he slowly pushed forward more.

You took small backward steps until the back of your legs touched the bed and you made sure to wrap both arms around Joe’s neck to ensure you’d take him with you.

Joe braced an arm against the bed, slowing you both down, ensuring the wind didn't get knocked out of you.

The second your bare back touched his sheets, Joe's mouth found yours again in the dark and hands roamed where they hadn't roamed before.

“Is this okay?” Joe muttered after a while, one finger hooking the side of your underwear, like this wasn’t the sole reason for you even being there in the first place, and you nodded.

Of course this was okay.

But suddenly, almost just to fuck with him, you frowned and went, “Actually…” all serious, like you were about to leave a yelp review, and Joe pulled back immediately.

You felt how he held his breath, waiting for you to say something. Hesitant. Nervous.

“You’ve not said anythi– look, these match the bra,”

Joe’s eyes scanned down, looked over his shoulder but couldn’t see your bra at all, and then turned to look back at you, confused.

“It’s a set.”

Joe didn’t get it. Why would he fucking care if your bra matched your briefs?

Joe dipped down and kissed your neck to avoid having to answer.

Joe had also said you’d have to tell him what you liked, and... all right, fine, you could try.

“Tell me you like it, I want you to– say you like ‘em,”

“I love them,” Joe immediately obliged, speaking hot breath into your ear.

Good.

You hadn’t put the effort in for Joe specifically, because how could you have ever predicted this is where you’d end up, but you had put in effort and wanted, no needed, the validation.

“I love them so much,” Joe said, hands now working to pull them down your legs whilst you started trying to undo Joe of his underwear.

It was dark, and the air around you felt cold where the rain had left you wet, but Joe was on top of you, and you were both entirely naked now, and arousal worked hard to heat you up from the inside out. You felt yourself start to unfurl at the edges.

Joe’s hands were everywhere.

Joe’s mouth was everywhere.

“Inside,” you panted, surprised you were actually instructing.

“Yea? Where?” Joe asked, voice all breathy, his fingers stroking silky soft skin, leaving trails of tingles and slick.

You didn’t even really care where if you were honest. Just wanted to feel him inside. You’d felt it press up against you for long enough now.

“Inside,” you said again, unable and unwanting to explain yourself any further, but using your hands to help and guide, showing him rather than telling him.

And fine. Joe could be shown. Instructing didn’t always need words. Could be nonverbal all the same, Joe decided, gladly letting you help him push himself inside.

And, fuck.

Fuck.

That felt so fucking good.

Joe went slow.

Was all tender touch and paid attention. Tried to hold his breath until he couldn’t anymore. Tried to keep his groans inside until he couldn’t anymore.

Joe went slow until he couldn’t anymore, hips finding a pace all by themselves, spurred on by your moans and your finger nails that dug wherever they could dig.

Joe’s weight on top felt nice.

Joe’s hands moving your legs about rather than trying to manoeuvre you into entirely new positions was nice.

Joe’s head buried into the space between your neck and shoulder was nice.

All his sounds unmistakably close to your ear was nice.

It was all nice, and then it became good.

“Yes,” you panted, moaned loudly, and heard Joe pant and huff a proud laugh.

“Yea?”

“Mm hmm,”

You felt it creep up. Slowly, but definitely there. Joe needed to keep doing exactly what he was doing. No messing.

“Yes, don’t stop, don’t–” moans got louder, and, it fed something inside Joe. His ego, his pride, his dignity, his confidence.

It had the wrong effect.

Joe knew he was doing something good, because, look at you. But it made him want to do more. Encouraged by the noise you were making, Joe upped all of everything he was doing, and–

“No, you’re–” you laid a flat hand over his shoulder in an attempt to slow him back down.

You felt how Joe went rigid, almost halted entirely.

“Go back– you need to, do it– I said, don’t stop, you–”

You weren’t very good at using your words, but could anyone really blame you? Look at where you were. What you were doing. How you were feeling.

Joe got the message, though. Went back to what he was doing before when you had started moaning yesses and, yea, it took a little time to get back to that same place you were before. But Joe was unrelenting, just like the rain outside that got smacked against the windows by strong gusts of wind, and your orgasm hit you just like it as well.

For a second or two, you weren’t really there.

You felt Joe’s weight, felt his movement, felt his touch, but you were gone.

Heard just the rustle of wind and the clattering of raindrops, a loud static in your mind, and felt utter, utter bliss.

You floated long, tried to stretch it for as long as you could, until you suddenly were there again, in Joe's bedroom, on top of his sheets, and you heard him groan loudly. Felt his hips stutter against your own. Felt him spill deep inside.

It took Joe long to pull out.

He kind of kept going for a little bit after he came too, seemed almost hypnotised and went for as long as he could, until he couldn't anymore. Until he winced, and stopped, and carefully pulled himself out.

You awaited reality to crash into you like a shockwave, but the shock took its sweet time and you thought maybe it was saving itself for the morning, because this was always your favourite part. Straight after, where guys let their heads drop against your shoulder, against your chest, all their weight heavy on top as they caught their breath.

And Joe was just like every other guy ever, because he did the same. Rested on top of you until his breathing evened out.

But Joe was also different, because before he rolled off of you, his hands found your face to touch, to cup, to hold as he pressed kisses into sweaty skin, and then asked you if you needed anything. If he could get you something.

“The bathroom,” you said, letting a breathy laugh escape you that Joe copied.

You pushed all thoughts of doubt aside, told your mind that it could panic over the lack of protection used later. Shock was allowed to find you in the morning, you’d decided now.

“Don’t be long,” Joe mused, rolling off and moving covers to crawl underneath, revealing he expected you back. Back into bed with him. To cuddle, to snuggle, to tangle limbs and to fall asleep together.

What the fuck was your life?

You and Joe didn’t do this.

Had never done this.

But it was nice, and comfortable, and exactly what you fucking needed, so you gave in. Peed, cleaned yourself up, splashed water wherever you felt it needed splashing, and snuck right back into bed where it was warm. Where two strong arms pulled you close.

You were both naked still.

And Joe had his remnants inside you still.

But reality could find you later.

Joe warmed you up from the inside out and from the outside in.

Reality could find you in the morning.

the end

---

The Taglisted

@adoreyouusugar, @alana4610, @ali-in-w0nderland, @alwayslindie, @babybluebex, @barfightzanddiscolightz, @bettyfrommars, @cancankiki, @capricornrisingsstuff, @chaoticgood-munson, @choke-me-eddie, @demonsanddemogorgons, @did-it-work, @dirtyeddietini, @dylanmunson, @eddies-puppet, @electricmunson, @emma77645, @emmamooney, @everythinghasafacee, @figmentofquinn, @frootvelvet, @ghost-proofbaby, @ghostinthebackofyourhead, @harringtonfan4, @haylaansmi, @jasminearondottir, @jewellethief, @joesquinns, @kellyxo1, @kennedy-brooke, @lovelyblueness, @manda-panda-monium, @miserybeans, @nadixq, @notverywise, @paola-carter, @pepperstories, @phyllosilicate-s, @roosterisdaddy36, @sherrylyn628, @sidthedollface2, @thebellenouvelle, @thewondernanazombie, @tlclick73, @werepartnersnow, @winterwakesthewolf, @witchwolflea, @yelyahcardella, @yunirgo

taglist currently full, sorry

#Joe Quinn #Joseph Quinn #Joe Quinn x You #Joseph Quinn x You #Joe Quinn x Reader #Joseph Quinn x Reader #Joe Quinn Fanfic #Joe Quinn fanfiction #Joseph Quinn Fanfic #Joseph Quinn Fanfiction #joe quinn x y/n #joseph quinn x y/n #icallhimjoey #ground rules #inside out and outside in

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radiance1 · 1 year

Text

So here I am, woke up far earlier than I thought I WOUDL Have and deided to make that everyone else's problem.

Pardon my bad spelling.

This is a part two to uh this because my brain decided whyNot.

So Danny get taken into the Watchtower, still amazed and in wonder that the earth is actually alive in this... whatever situation this is.

To be honest, he thinks he may or may not have time traveled.

Only to then find out he got summoned to an entirely different dimension, to which he's like cool and oh no.

So the JL ask him what he's oh noing about, and Danny offhandedly mentions how the other Ghost King is probably going to be on a warpath trying to find him.

JL:....Other Ghost King?

Danny: Technically only Half-King since I make up the other half, but yea.

Danny doesn't notice the amount of worry that fell over the JL, the words Ghost King and Warpath being in the same sentence doesn't paint a pretty picture. Danny is too busy poking around the room for that.

Artemis suddenly looking up when Danny was summoned to the DC universe:....Something just happened.

Meanwhile, over in the DP universe:

Vlad, due to not having Danny's aura around is far quicker to anger and irritation than before. He's good at controlling the once overwhelming rage though, but he is getting annoyed as fuck that NO ONE not even the literal MASTER OF TIME, knows where his counter-part is.

He's lucky the earth no longer exists, or that any other deities are around because his absence would be noted by more than just him.

So, to hopefully find the wayward deity, he sends multiple ghosts out into different portals to Danny, and if irritated as fuck when they come back with nothing.

Vlad: I have sent thousands of ghosts, and you mean to tell me that not a single one of you has found him yet!?

The ghosts he sent: Shrugs.

Vlad: Screams in pure rage.

Anywho, the ghosts are actually pretty fine with Danny getting summoned, they have another king here so it shouldn't be too much concern if the Moon King was summoned to a different dimension.

...What is a cause of concern however, was when the Sun King was summoned away too.

The ghosts, when their last remaining king was summoned to another dimension they can't find:

Apollo, minding his own business drinking some wine. Suddenly looking up:....Something just happened.

So now Vlad is summoned to the DC Universe and is not at all pleased by this.

Cultists? Man fuck em cultists he ain't got time for this.

Also Vlad when he realizes he could use them to hopefully find his counterpart in this dimension if he's here: I would like to apologize for my attempts at killing you-

Also, also Vlad when he calms down enough to see that the cultists are actual living people: Well damn.

Meanwhile in the Watchtower:

Danny, poking around the Watchtower while the JL is in the same room as him, suddenly looking up towards Earth and stopping what he's doing: Oh, he's here.

Also Danny: Goes back to doing what he was doing as if he didn't just say some ominous shit.

The JL tries and utterly fails to get him to elaborate on who he's talking about, who's here and if its the other Ghost King.

Danny: Refuses to elaborate.

Also Danny: Purposely hides his aura from Vlad.

Vlad, when the moon's aura suddenly disappeared from his radar before he could even pinpoint his location properly: Breathes in and out calmy.

Also Vlad: I am going to kill someone.

#dc x dp #dp x dc crossover #Danny is having the time of his life over here #While Vlad is stressing the fuck out and just might kill someone #Normal activity honestly #Artemis and Apollo both embracing that meme right now fr #Also I just woke up so if this isn't that good IDK MAnE #It is what iT is

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riverbutghost · 10 months

Note

Can you write a one shot where Y/n is self harming and how Simon is reacting to that?

This is my first request!!!!!!!

Also, I’m so so so sorry for this, this isn’t how i expected it to turn out, also I have a severe migraine right now and can’t look at screen too much. I wrote it super fast. Apologies, and promise that i’ll write more soon.

Go ahead and request with an angst prompt !!

Pairing: Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x GN!Reader

Summary: You used to self harm, but after attending military you stopped. Certain someone made you break, though.

Warnings: Graves is an asshole, no touching but cat calling?, Self harm, depression topics, kind of ooc simon, mentions of suicide…

Even though you were feeling down lately, your friends were always there for you. You knew it.

Your mental health wasn’t always perfect, and you knew it would take a while to heal. But even after healing, you knew it would always come back.

“It’s okay, you’re okay. I’m glad you chose me to vent about it.”

It was always easy to vent to Soap, he would always make you chuckle or smile.

“It’s cool y’know? I know why you’re feeling this way. But it will always get better.”

Gaz would pat your hair, cuddle you a little like a brother and give you a chocolate. He would make you smile.

Simon wasn’t there usually. And no, you wouldn’t seek comfort from him either way. You knew the man wasn’t a people person, and he wouldn’t do anything other than getting annoyed.

So after your mission went smoothly, everyone wanted to celebrate and drink. Not you for sure.

You weren’t feeling good and stable so you politely declined. This, of course drew your friends’ attention. You just told them you were tired, because you didn’t want them to miss out on their time. They finally accepted and left the base to have fun.

You, on the other hand wasn’t feeling too well. It was overwhelming, to feel that way after a success.

“Congratulations, soldier. But you missed your shot. It was a stupid thing to do, the target wasn’t even moving ahahah.”

You furrowed your eyebrows after remembering your commander’s words. Graves, he was something. He would constantly pick on you, even though he had told you he liked you. You couldn’t understand him, was he that kind of person who would bully their crushes? Yeah, no.

You shook your head, clearing your mind of those thoughts. You needed a bath, and the base was empty. You smiled to yourself weakly. This was going to be a long shower.

You closed your door, but didn’t lock it. You didn’t care because the base was empty. You stripped off your clothes and got in.

“Is she okay?”

Simon furrowed his eyebrows.

“Who?”

Soap rolled his eyes and cursed through the phone. He told him your name, and Simon cursed himself too.

“Didn’t know she was here,”

Simon swore that he heard Soap rolling his eyes.

“Whatever, I gotta go. Don’t get wasted, yeah?”

Simon didn’t wait for an answer before shutting the phone down. He got up and went to his bathroom, ready to take a shower. He locked the door before pulling his mask off.

He got in, warm water immediately softening his tense shoulders. He sighed and closed his eyes.

You had decided to grab something from the kitchen before combing your hair. So here you were, eating an apple while going to your room.

“Ooof, here you are.”

You stopped dead in your tracks after someone grabbed your shoulders from behind.

“Our talk was interrupted,”

You swallowed and smiled at him, even though his eyes were raking up and down your body. You shifted uncomfortably.

“Oh, uhm- yeah. I don’t see you like that-“

His hands moved to your waist and you gasped quietly.

“C’mon, we both know what you want. Don’t resist it.”

You pushed him hard enough to let him off and he just snorted.

“I told you. I don’t want you, Graves.”

He rolled his eyes.

“Is that why you wear these shorts huh? Why your hair is wet and free? Don’t play dumb, you want it. Don’t worry, even if you’re bad in bed it would worth it and I won’t tell anyone.”

He winked and that was the final straw. You kicked him in his crotch, and pushed him with all your force. He groaned and gritted his teeth.

“Fuckin’ bitch. You’re gonna regret that!”

You just walked hurriedly to your room and locked the door behind you.

You didn’t know when, but you had started crying. You sat down in front of your door and cried silently.

When you realized you had dropped your apple there, you started crying harder.

“Fuck,”

You sniffled and gripped your phone. But you couldn’t, they were having fun and you wouldn’t dare to ruin it.

You closed your eyes, tried doing the breathing techniques your therapist had taught you.

“I can’t believe you’re our teammate now, you should be a model.”

“I can keep you company, you know?”

“But you’re asking for it.”

“You don’t have a boyfriend? Such a shame, you have a good physique.”

“Believe me sweetheart, no one would talk to you if you weren’t that beautiful.”

“That pretty face is missing something, a smile?”

“Oh my God, be a lady and bow down to me will you? ahahah..”

“Fuck!”

You quickly got up, the voices in your head were ringing and ringing. Graves’ voice was ringing. It kept getting louder.

You opened your drawer and took out your knife, and held it in your hand for a second.

The voices are going to stop, you thought. It will get better if I do this, you convinced yourself.

You cut your wrist, hands shaky from the panic attack. Your breaths were unstable, shallow.

You cut your wrist again, the voices were now getting weaker.

“What the fuck is going on?!”

You jumped forward with the knife in your hand. Simon gasped for a second before holding you and looking at you.

“What happened?!”

Simon shook your shoulders, not knowing what to do. You were just as shocked as him, and didn’t move a muscle.

Simon’s eyes went up to your hair and down to your feet. His breath shook as he noticed the blood dropping from your cuts.

“What the- What did you do?!”

Simon quickly took the knife and threw it across the room, then he picked you up and carried you to the bathroom.

He put you down to the floor of the shower cabin and washed your face.

“Wait here, ‘kay? I’ll be back.”

He quickly went back to his room, grabbed the first aid kit and came rushing back.

He carefully took your wrist, inspected it and worked on it quietly.

You were still in shock, eyes looking empty at the ground. It was all so quick, and your mind wasn’t comprehending it.

Simon called your real name and you suddenly looked up. It was like a switch. You furrowed your eyebrows and looked at your wrist.

“Oh my God- I fuck!”

“Shh-“

You silently cried as he bandaged your wrist, thankfully you didn’t cut that deep.

After a minute or so, he got up and picked you up. He went towards your bed, and put you down. He sat down as well.

“Why? I don’t understand anything.”

You swallowed and looked down.

“I was suicidal before. And it just, I don’t know. I got triggered I guess.” You mumbled and shrugged.

Simon just narrowed his eyes. How could you be so calm about it?

“But what happened? What triggered it?”

You sighed as you let yourself down on your mattress.

“Don’twannatalkaboutit.”

Simon raised an eyebrow.

“What? Speak up soldier. C’mon now, you know you can talk to me.”

“Graves…”

Simon shot up.

“What did that fucker do?!”

You just sighed and curled up more.

“Nothing,I-“

Simon quickly got out of your room, leaving you speechless and scared. You were scared to be alone, and scared that Graves would say some shit and Ghost would believe them.

You just closed your eyes and sighed again, suddenly fee exhausted and tired.

It was so quick, so fast like it was a dream.

“What the fuck just happened..” You mumbled to yourself.

Soon enough, Simon came back. He knocked on your door and you mumbled for him to come in.

“Took care of it.”

Your heart broke a little after that. Not in a bad way, you might add.

“Thank you. I’m just exhausted, I guess. Never really thought I would ever do that again.”

Simon held your hand as you looked up at him. His eyes took you in and left you breathless in an instant. He attempted to say something, but didn’t. You smiled at him softly, laying down on the bed.

“I’m gonna go, yeah..”

He scratched the back of his neck, and contemplated for a moment to say anything else.

But he got up, leaving your room after looking you one last time.

It was probably for another day. You would talk with him another day.

#call of duty #call of dooty #cod mwf2 #simon riley #simon riley angst #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #ghost x you #simon ghost riley #simon riley fluff #cod mw x reader #cod modern warfare #request for riverbutghost

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spnhunter4life · 1 year

Text

Familiar

Summary: Sam, Dean and Y/N are on a case, and it turns out Y/N is just the monster's type.

Word Count: 8.2k

Warnings: reference to nonconsensual sex, canon typical violence

A/N: I've had this one done for a couple of weeks, but things have been very busy and so I just finally got around to doing a reread/edit of it. I hope everyone enjoys it!

This one includes the writing prompt "character A flipping positions and shoving B against a wall 'now this seems more familiar doesn’t it?'"

I don't remember where I found this. I have a list of prompts I saved, but didn't include who posted them, so if you happen to know where this came from, let me know and I'll give credit to that person.

Also, I've had someone ask me to be tagged in new stories I post. I am happy to do this, so if anyone else is interested in being tagged, let me know!

Masterlist

I met the Winchesters for the first time five years ago when I was 22. I was in college and had just moved to a new dorm building that turned out to be haunted by a ghost. I had been the next intended target when Dean and his dad stepped in and saved me. That was the last time I would see either of them for a long time, but I never forgot the faces of the people who had saved my life.

After that experience, I was obsessed with the supernatural. Dean and I had talked a little bit before they left town, and he told me about how he and his dad traveled the country killing monsters. I wanted to do that too. I wanted to be able to save people’s lives the way they had saved mine.

So a couple months later I dropped out of school and started getting ready to hunt. I signed up for a gym membership and started going everyday as well as taking boxing and Krav Maga lessons. My life had given very little opportunity for me to build muscle or learn to fight. But I wasn’t stupid enough to go into a fight with a supernaturally strong creature completely unprepared.

I gave myself a year to get in shape and learn to defend myself. During this time, I put every spare minute I had into research. I looked into what kinds of monsters were out there, how to kill them, which ones were most common. While doing all this research, I ran into a man named Bobby Singer. He had all kinds of helpful information and taught me how to track them down. I started the process of purchasing weapons I would need and also saving up money.

Once I felt ready, I set off on my first hunt. The overwhelming satisfaction I felt at saving a person from the ghost that had been haunting them was too much to ignore. I knew without a doubt now that this is what I should be doing with my life. So I went on another hunt. And another.

Things were a little rough going at first and I got more injuries than I cared to admit – fighting a trained professional in a controlled environment wasn’t the same as going up against an angry monster – but my fighting skills improved and things started going smoother soon enough. I didn’t regret my choices.

I ran into Dean a little over a year later. I was looking into what I suspected to be a witch and had stopped for lunch at a local burger joint when I saw him. I recognized him immediately and went to talk to him. It took a little bit for him to remember me, but he did. When he asked what I was doing so far from home, I told him what I’d been up to since the day he saved my life. He seemed surprised and impressed. Apparently the people he saved didn’t often take up hunting afterwards.

When I asked after his dad, he told me that they were starting to work separate cases on occasion. They still hunted together too, but not as often.

Since we were both in town for the same reason, we agreed to work the case together. It was difficult at times, learning to rely on another person and factor their thoughts and opinions into what we were doing. I’d never hunted with someone else before. In other ways, though, it was so much easier. I decided I kind of liked having a partner. Dean and I worked well together.

He must have thought so too, because the day after we finished that hunt, he asked if I wanted to come with him to look into a string of suspicious murders a couple states over. I’d been hunting with him – and occasionally his dad – ever since.

About nine months into our new arrangement, his dad went missing and so we picked up his brother Sam from school to help find him. Adding him to the mix had been another adjustment. That was two years ago now though, and we’d all found an easy rhythm together.

“We should go check this out,” Dean said, sliding the newspaper he’d been looking at across the table to Sam and pointing at one of the articles.

We were at a diner waiting for our breakfast to be brought out. Sam scanned the article.

“I don’t know, Dean,” Sam said, passing the newspaper to me when I motioned for it. I skimmed the article Dean had found.

“Come on, Sam. Three murder suicides in under two weeks. That’s weird,” Dean insisted.

“It is weird. I just don’t see how it’s our kind of weird,” Sam answered.

“Y/N? What do you think? You agree with me, don’t you?” Dean asked, confident I’d back him up. We typically saw things pretty eye to eye. Not always though.

“Well, actually I agree with Sam. There’s nothing here that really makes it sound like our kind of thing. But,” I continued, saying the word a little louder to stop Dean’s protest. “It’s only a few hours away and we have nothing else to do right now. So we might as well go check it out.”

“Alright, fine,” Sam agreed, sighing at the triumphant look on Dean’s face. “But I really think we’re wasting our time.”

“Right. Because we’ve got much more important, productive things going on here,” Dean said sarcastically.

“It’s never a waste of time,” I said. “Even if it ends up being nothing, making sure people aren’t being killed by something supernatural isn’t a waste. What if we decide it’s not worth checking out and it turns out it is our kind of thing? Then those deaths would be on us.”

“Ok, yes, you’re right. I already said we could go check it out,” Sam said.

“Well thanks for the permission, Sammy. I really don’t think we could’ve moved forward without it,” Dean snarked.

“Bite me,” Sam answered.

“Alright, cut it out you two,” I scolded.

The waiter brought our food out and we spent the meal trying to come up with ideas of what we could be dealing with. We didn’t come up with much since we had so little information to go off of. Dean paid our bill and we were just heading out the door when something occurred to me.

“Oh! What if it’s a siren?” I suggested.

“A siren? From Greek mythology? Like in The Odyssey?” Dean asked.

“What?” Sam looked at his brother in surprise.

“What?” Dean asked, a little smug and a little offended.

“What do you know about sirens?” Sam asked me, moving past his shock at Dean’s knowledge.

“Not much,” I admitted. We reached the car and I climbed into my usual spot behind Sam. “All the vics have been couples though, right?” I asked.

“Yeah,” Dean confirmed, turning in his seat to face me. “Is that important?”

“All I really know about sirens is that once they infect you they convince you to kill someone you love. The only siren case I’ve heard of had several husbands killing their wives before it was stopped. So maybe in this case once the men realize what they’ve done, they kill themselves.”

“Seems like the best theory we’ve come up with,” Dean said. He backed the Impala out of the parking spot and headed out of town towards the highway.

“Let’s get there and do some digging around before we settle on a theory,” Sam cautioned. “But say you’re right. How do we kill it?”

“I don’t know. I’ve already given you the extent of my knowledge on the subject.”

“Okay. Well at least we have a starting point. We can look into it more if that still seems like the most likely scenario after we’ve investigated things a little bit,” Sam said.

Apparently deeming the conversation finished, Dean turned up the music. I leaned my head against the window and watched the road blurring by.

~~~~~

The bar we were at was crowded, the music was loud, and the guy I was talking to was cute. Not stop and stare cute, but cute enough that when he came over to where I was standing at the bar and started flirting, I flirted back.

“So how long are you in town for?” Cute guy asked. I vaguely noted Dean in my peripheral vision, making his way to the bar. If I’d been paying attention, I would have noticed how irritated he looked. But I was trying not to notice him. He and I were just friends and would never be more. I’d accepted that. It meant I couldn’t let myself be distracted by him when there was a guy standing right in front of me who was interested.

“Don’t know yet,” I answered, giving him my best flirty smile. “I’m definitely here for the night though.”

“Alright, that’s enough,” Dean interrupted. “Come on Y/N. Sam’s waiting for us.”

“Woah, hey, come on man,” cute guy protested. “You can’t just come in here and force her to leave. We were in the middle of a conversation.”

“You were, were you? Sorry pal, but we’ve got important things to do. Go find someone else to bother.” Dean grabbed my arm and pulled me with him, away from the bar and towards the exit.

“Dean!” I hissed as I was forced to follow along behind him. “What is your problem?” I asked when we made it outside.

“What’s my problem?” Dean echoed, letting go of my arm and turning to face me. “What’s your problem? You know what we’re after here. What made you think it was a good idea to offer to go home with some random guy who for all we know could be the siren?”

I scoffed and started to walk towards the car, but Dean grabbed me again and pushed me up against the building. He stepped in close and put an arm on either side of my head, effectively caging me in.

“What are you doing?” I asked. It didn’t sound quite as irritated as I wanted it to. His close proximity mixed with the few drinks I’d downed had me too overwhelmed to hold on to my anger.

“Next time you’re wanting to scratch an itch in the middle of a case where the monster we’re after seduces people into murder, just save us the trouble and come to me instead,” he instructed. Then before I knew what was happening, he leaned in and kissed me.

I gasped in surprise and he used the opportunity to lick into my mouth. Finally catching up to what was happening, I wrapped my arms around his neck, threading my fingers through his hair and eagerly kissing him back. I never could have predicted this, but I was so thrilled it was happening.

He made his way to my neck. He kissed a couple of different spots before finding a spot he liked and starting to suck and nip-

I woke up with a jolt and a gasp. I quickly took in my surroundings and realized I’d fallen asleep in the back of the Impala.

“You ok?” Dean asked, turning in his seat to look at me. I realized we were parked outside a motel. The engine turning off must have been what woke me. I briefly met his eyes and was immediately bombarded with the images from my dream.

“Yeah,” I told him. I managed to successfully fight the blush that tried to rise in the presence of the very man I’d just been dreaming about. It wasn’t the first time I’d had this sort of dream about the older Winchester. I doubted it would be the last.

Dean went inside to get us a room. We unloaded our bags and made a plan. We decided the boys would drop me off at the police station to talk to the sheriff while they went to question the medical examiner. We would meet at a diner a few blocks away from the police station when we were done.

“What’s the connection between all of these people?” I asked Sheriff Jones once I’d introduced myself and explained why I was there.

“Connection?” He asked.

“Yeah. This many murder suicides in this short of a time, there’s something going on here. Maybe you’re wrong about the suicide part and it’s just flat out murder. Maybe it’s some sort of messed up pact these people made. There has to be something that connects them though. So what is it?”

“As far as we can tell, there is no connection between any of them. Sometimes these things just happen,” he said.

“How long have you been sheriff?” I asked. He was starting to get up in age, probably in his mid to late 50s at a guess. I assumed he’d been a police officer for a long time.

“Almost 20 years,” he informed me proudly.

“And in those 20 years, how many times have you seen something like this? Three different couples killing each other and themselves. One after another.”

“Well… never,” he admitted.

“Right. So what’s the connection? Graduated from the same high school? Go to the same gym? In a bowling league together? There has to be something that connects them other than them all being married.”

“Actually, they weren’t all married,” Jones corrected.

“I was told they were,” I said.

“The last couple wasn’t. They were roommates, but as far as I’m aware, that’s as far as the relationship went.”

Damn. Did this throw a wrench in my siren theory? Not necessarily. Just because they weren’t together doesn’t mean one of them wasn’t secretly in love with the other. Or maybe they were really close and loved each other in a non romantic way.

“Great. I’m gonna need a list of close family and friends of all the victims,” I requested.

“What for?” He asked.

“To find the connection. You figure out the pattern, you have a chance of stopping it from happening again,” I said frustratedly. How were these idiots not investigating this further? Did they really believe it was just all a coincidence?

Jones gave me a list of names and I left. I scanned the list on my walk to the diner, trying to figure out where to start and how long it might take to talk to these people. I rounded a corner and ran into an extremely attractive man.

“Sorry!” I apologized as he nearly spilled the coffee he was carrying.

“No worries,” he said, flashing a charming smile. “No harm done.”

Had I not spent every day of the past three years sharing close quarters with the most attractive man I’d ever seen in my life, I might have been caught off guard and turned into a mumbling mess. But my time with Dean mixed with the quick thinking and lying that was sometimes necessary for hunting meant I was able to keep it together.

“Still. I should have been watching where I was going.”

“Well in that case, I was just on my way to get some lunch. How about you make it up to me by coming with?” He offered. It only took me a few seconds of consideration to make a decision.

“Sorry, but I’m busy. I’m on my way to meet a couple of colleagues for a kind of work lunch,” I told him.

“Ah. Well, maybe next time,” he smiled.

“Maybe,” I agreed, knowing there wouldn’t be a next time. I sighed as I continued my walk to the diner. He was awfully good looking. Under different circumstances, I probably would have taken him up on his offer.

I walked the last couple of blocks and noted that the familiar black car wasn’t in the parking lot. I went in, found an open table that would fit all three of us, and sat down. I had to wait about ten minutes before Sam and Dean walked in.

“Hey. What did you find out?” I asked once they were seated.

“Not much. There wasn’t anything unusual about the bodies as far as anyone could tell. The ME did say that based on the most recent body, she wondered if the suicides weren’t actually suicides though. She’s looking over the other two bodies again to see if it could have been staged to look like a suicide,” Sam told me.

“That qualifies as not much to you?” I asked. “I mean, granted it doesn’t really up the weird factor. But what if they missed something else too? Something they wouldn’t know to look for?”

“That’s exactly what I said,” Dean said smugly.

“Whatever. I’m not having this discussion again,” Sam told his brother as the waiter came over. We rattled off our orders to him and waited for him to leave before continuing.

“Did you find anything?” Sam asked.

“No. I do have a list of people for us to talk to though,” I answered. I took the list out of the pocket I’d tucked it into after folding it up and handed it to Sam.

“What, the cops have a suspect list?” Dean asked.

“No,” I snorted. “Whether or not this ends up being our kind of case, I feel bad for the people in this town. Their idiot sheriff doesn’t even think it’s worth looking into. It’s an open and shut case as far as he’s concerned.”

“What’s your list then?” Dean questioned, leaning over to read over Sam’s shoulder.

“Close family and friends,” I answered. “I’m hoping we can figure out what connects them all.”

“Right,” Sam said. “It’s not like we can monitor every single married couple in this town on the off chance they might get murdered.”

“Actually, they weren’t all married,” I told him. “I guess the last two were just roommates.”

“There goes the siren theory,” Dean sighed.

“Not necessarily. It still could be,” I said.

“How?”

“Sirens don’t target married people specifically,” I explained. “They just make you kill someone you love.”

“So you’re saying they were living together as friends but secretly in love?” Dean asked.

“Maybe. Or maybe not. Love doesn’t have to be romantic.”

The waiter brought out our food and we made a plan as we ate. Dean wanted to check out the crime scenes first. Sam argued that we might get more information from talking to people. I wanted to side with Dean because I really wasn’t looking forward to interviewing ten different people, but I had to agree with Sam. Might as well get this part out of the way. We could look at the victims’ houses after.

~~~~~

Several hours and too many interviews full of crying loved ones later, we stood in our motel room going over the information we’d gathered today. The ME had called an hour ago and confirmed that it was flat out murder, not murder suicide. We hadn’t gotten any useful information out of any of the people we talked to today though, and we were all a little frustrated.

“Alright, well the roommate vics were extremely close,” Sam recapped, thinking out loud. “Which means Y/N’s theory on them loving each other pans out, leaving a siren as the most likely culprit. But how are we supposed to find it? We still don’t have anything that links these people together,” Sam grumbled.

“And why is it killing people?” I added. “Usually they leave the killing to their victims. Maybe we missed something.”

“Or,” Dean cut in, standing up from the chair he’d been in. “We'll find the answers we need at the crime scenes. Which I said we should look at four hours ago.”

“Yeah, Dean. We know,” Sam snapped.

“Let’s just figure out our next step,” I interjected.

“Maybe we should do some research on sirens. It would be easier to track it if we can figure out where they live, how they make people do what they want, that sort of thing,” Sam suggested.

“C’mon Sam, we’ve spent all day doing research on the victims. Now you’re telling me you want to do more research?” Dean complained. “What we should do is go to their houses. I’m telling you, if we want answers, that’s where we’ll find them.”

“Maybe, but we still have to know what we’re up against,” Sam pointed out. “Why don’t you and Y/N go check out the houses. I’ll stay here and research,” he suggested.

“Fine. Let’s go,” Dean said, satisfied with this compromise. He went outside and I heard the Impala’s engine roar to life a few seconds later.

Sam grabbed his laptop and settled in to work while I grabbed my coat.

“Let us know if you find anything,” I said. Sam assured me he would and then I followed Dean out the door.

We decided to split up to cover ground faster. Dean would drop me off at the first house and head to the second house himself. When he was done there he would pick me up and we would look at the last place together.

Dean parked outside the first house, a small blue one with a row of flowers planted along the front of it.

“I’ll call you when I’m on my way back,” he told me as I was getting out of the car. He drove away and I walked into the house, ducking under the police tape strung up on the door.

The first room I walked through was the kitchen. Other than a few unwashed dishes in the sink, it was spotless. I knew the murders had happened in the bedroom, so I didn’t expect to see much in the rest of the house, but I was looking for any sort of clue that would lead us to the siren. I took a quick look at the pictures on the fridge but didn’t see anything that would help.

The next room was the living room which was also clean. A cursory scan of the room told me these two were huge movie fans. There were several movie posters hanging up on the walls, an entertainment center overflowing with DVDs, and a little box full of old movie tickets. I didn’t know how this could be a connection with the other couples, but it was clearly a big part of their lives, so it was worth making a mental note of. Other than that, I didn’t see much. A brochure for a yoga class stuck underneath a pile of magazines on the coffee table. A framed picture of the two skiing was hanging on the wall. I noticed a coffee mug with what I assumed was the name of a local bar printed on the side. I made another mental note of both the yoga class and the bar just in case.

Then I moved on to the bedroom. Even if I hadn’t known ahead of time what happened in here, it would have been pretty clear. There was a bloodstain on the bed and the blankets were rumpled, like there had been a struggle on top of them. One of the pillows was knocked on the floor. The nightstand on the left side of the bed had been knocked over, a picture frame shattered beside it. And there was a second blood stain on the cream carpet.

I braced myself, turning off the part of my brain that wanted to be horrified and turn away from the scene. I looked around the room for any sort of clue as to who the siren might be or where it might have gone. It would be a lot easier if I knew what exactly I was looking for. Sam was right. We should have done the research first.

After thoroughly searching the bedroom and the bathroom and finding nothing, I made my way back out of the house. I wasn’t quite ready to give up yet, but I was getting more doubtful that this wasn’t something the real FBI should be handling. I stepped back outside and saw the cute guy from earlier walking past. He heard the door close behind me and looked over.

“Oh, it’s you,” I said. “What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” he answered as I walked towards him. “I do believe that’s a crime scene you just walked out of. Not exactly legal.”

“It is when you’re FBI,” I told him, pulling out my badge. It identified me as agent Y/N Perry.

“That explains why I haven’t seen you around before,” he said, not seeming overly surprised by the news.

“What are you doing here?” I asked again.

“I live next door,” he told me. “I didn’t really know them. Terrible what happened though.”

“It is,” I agreed. My phone rang and I took it out of my pocket, seeing Sam’s name on the screen. I excused myself to answer it.

“Hey, Sam. What did you find?”

“Have you heard from Dean?” He asked urgently.

“No, why?” I asked, immediately worried. Before he could answer, everything went dark.

~~~~~

Sam’s POV

“What do you got, Sam?” Dean asked immediately upon answering my call.

“Not much, but I think I’m starting to figure out more about this siren,” I told him. I hadn’t had time to gather much information yet, but what I had found mixed with a quick phone call to the ME was starting to clear things up.

“Like what?”

“So get this. When sirens… put you under their spell or whatever, it leaves high levels of a hormone called oxytocin in your blood.”

“So?”

“So, I called the ME and asked her about it. There were high traces in three of the victims. The female victims. For whatever reason, this siren is going after the women, not the men.”

“Son of a bitch! Please tell me you called Y/N before you called me,” Dean said.

“Why? Aren’t you together?”

“No,” Dean growled out in a tone of voice that suggested stress and frustration. “We split up to move faster.”

“Alright. Well don’t worry. I’m sure she’s fine. I’ll call her now,” I said, trying to calm him.

“I’m going back to get her. I’ll call her on the way.”

Before I could argue that he was already worked up enough and should just focus on driving I heard a thump, Dean grunting, and then the sound of his phone clattering on the ground.

“Dean!” I yelled. No response. I hung up and headed outside. I needed to find a car. Once I had one ready to go, I started driving to the closest address on the list.

~~~~~

Y/N’s POV

The first thing that registered in my mind was the way my body was shaking. I heard a distant voice calling my name as consciousness slowly found me. It took a few seconds for me to fully wake up and process what was happening. The shaking was due to the hand on my shoulder, trying to jostle me into consciousness. The voice was Dean’s, and it wasn’t distant. It was right in front of me.

My head was pounding. I tried to remember what happened. I was outside waiting for Dean. Sam called. Then what?

“Y/N!” Dean said a little louder. I opened my eyes and immediately closed them again, hissing at the pain that shot through my skull from the bright light in the room. Someone must have hit me over the head. Who? No one else had even been around. Except for that guy I bumped into earlier. He must be the siren then.

I felt a surge of frustration at my stupidity. How did I miss it? I knew it was weird that he just happened to be outside that house.

“C’mon. We should get out of here,” Dean encouraged, pulling me to my feet.

“Just a minute,” I pleaded as a wave of dizziness rushed over me upon standing. I braced my hand on the wall beside me.

“What happened?” He asked. “You didn’t answer the phone.”

Once the dizziness passed, I slowly opened my eyes. The pounding in my head was intense, but it was more manageable when I took things slow.

“Where is he?” I asked.

“Who, the siren? Dead,” he told me. That was good news I guess. I didn’t know how much help I’d be in a fight right now. He was almost entirely supporting my weight. Then something occurred to me.

“How?” I asked, looking up at his face. “We don’t know how to kill them.”

“Well I had a machete with me. I couldn’t walk in here completely defenseless. When I saw him standing over you, I cut his head off. Apparently that’s all it takes,” he explained.

I looked around the room, searching for the body, and realized this was the house of the first murdered couple. We were in the living room.

“He brought me in here?” I asked.

“Well. It was close by. And there isn’t much chance of anyone walking in. Made it easy for me to find you, too. How are you feeling? Ready to go?” He asked.

“Yeah, I’m good,” I told him. My head was still pounding, but the dizziness was gone.

“Good,” he said, carefully turning me to face him. “I was really worried about you.” Then he kissed me.

I so badly wanted to be able to enjoy this. I’d dreamed about it so many times but never imagined I’d ever build up the courage to tell him how I felt. Or that my feelings would be reciprocated.

I placed one hand on the back of his neck and gave myself a couple of seconds to be sure my balance was good. Then in one quick motion I stepped to the side and used the hand around his neck to shove him face first into the wall.

“Ow! What the hell?!” He yelled, clutching a hand to his bleeding nose.

“Where’s Dean?” I asked, watching closely for any indication he was about to run or attack.

“I am Dean!” He insisted. He held a hand out placatingly and took a step towards me.

“Stay back,” I warned him. I reached into my boot and grabbed the silver knife I kept there at all times. “I know a shapeshifter when I see one.”

He dropped his hands and stood up straighter, a cocky smile gracing his mouth. He started to walk in a slow circle around me.

“What gave me away?” He asked casually.

“A few things,” I answered, rotating my body to keep him directly in front of me at all times.

“Like?”

“Where’s Dean?” I asked again.

“Oh, he’s fine for now. Just a little tied up at the moment,” he smirked.

I lunged for him, hoping to catch him by surprise. He easily blocked the knife I had aimed directly at his heart and threw a punch that caught me in the stomach. The force of the blow knocked the breath out of me, but I recovered quickly and slashed out with the knife at the hand that was reaching for my hair. He hissed in pain and quickly withdrew his hand.

“Don’t make this harder than it has to be,” the fake Dean growled. “You know you can’t win. Might as well save yourself some of the pain.”

My head was killing me and the dizziness was threatening to return and become a very serious problem. I waited for his next attack. I didn’t have to wait long. I saw his muscles tense to move and then he closed the distance between us quickly.

He reached out for the hand that was holding the knife, trying to force it out of my grip without touching it. I took advantage of the way he focused on the knife to kick his knee as hard as I could. His knee buckled and I used all the strength I had to push him into the wall behind him. I pressed the knife to his throat.

“Where is Dean?” I demanded.

“What gave me away?” He asked again. I couldn’t believe the arrogance. Did he really not care about anything but the fact that I’d seen through him?

“I’m not going to ask again,” I threatened, pressing the knife just a little harder into his skin. “Where is he?”

“Quid pro quo,” he offered. “Answer my question, I’ll answer yours.”

I seriously debated just killing him, but decided to humor him just this once. He wasn’t going anywhere and I’d get the answer out of him one way or another.

“First of all, Dean wouldn’t just sit there waiting for me to wake up. He would have just carried me out. Secondly, he has a scratch on his jaw that hasn’t healed all the way yet. That particular scratch is missing from your face. Third, if he’s not sure which weapon to bring with, he always chooses his gun. Silver kills a lot of things, so it’s usually the safest bet. Also, where’s the body? You said you killed the siren, but there isn’t a body. And as far as that goes, you don’t have a machete either.”

“Hmm. You’re observant,” he said. “Not observant enough though. Otherwise you probably would have seen this coming.”

His hand shot up and grabbed my wrist, pushing the knife away from his neck. He pressed hard on the tendons there until I was forced to drop the knife. Then he spun us around, pressing me up against the wall. He pinned both of my wrists to the wall and leaned in close, his breath brushing my face.

“Now this seems more familiar, doesn’t it?” He smiled.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I spat.

“No?” He mocked, pressing his cheek to mine and talking directly into my ear. “You’ve never dreamed about Dean pressing you into the nearest wall and kissing you breathless? I think you have. Many times. As recently as just a few hours ago.”

I whipped my head to the side to look at him. He grinned triumphantly.

“That’s right. I’ve been inside your head. I know exactly how you feel about this pretty boy of yours.”

I bristled at the way he had stolen Dean’s face, tried to use it against me, and was now flaunting that fact.

“You don’t know anything,” I spat. He just continued as if I hadn’t said anything.

“That’s why I chose you. It was pure coincidence running into you, but you’re a very attractive woman, so I figured I’d give it a shot.”

“Give what a shot? Murder? News flash, you’ve already done that. I’d suggest branching out and finding a new hobby.” I pushed lightly against his hands, testing the possibility of breaking free. That wasn’t an option. He was holding on tight, and I wouldn’t be able to beat him in a battle of strength.

He smiled and kept ignoring me.

“You see, I had to turn into you first to get in your head and see if you fit what I was looking for. It was a shock, of course, to find out that you’re a hunter. But it turns out you did fit my needs, and you and your friends were so far off the mark, I knew I’d be safe enough.”

“What do you mean, I fit your needs?” I asked. I had a plan to escape his hold, but as long as he was content to talk, I wanted answers.

“Well you’re in love of course,” he said.

“So?” I didn’t bother denying it. Like he said, he’d already been in my head.

“So,” he answered as if I was being extremely stupid. “Isn’t it so much better being with someone when you’re in love?”

I felt my brow wrinkle in confusion. Being with someone? What was he talking about? What did it have to do with murder?

I felt a wave of horror and disgust wash over me as I understood his meaning. He’d posed as the men the women were in love with and slept with them before murdering them both.

“If it’s any consolation, they died happy,” he told me. “Well,” he amended. “The women did, anyway.”

“So what?” I snarled. “You thought you’d come in here looking like Dean and I’d just take my clothes off for you? Just like that?”

“Well, not just like that. But I figured you’d be willing enough once I had some time to convince you.”

I remembered how he had kissed me before. I assume that was the kind of convincing he was referring to.

“We still could, you know,” he offered. He brushed his lips gently against mine and I jerked away. “You can pretend I’m him and I’ll give you what you’ve always wanted.”

“Right before you kill me, you mean?”

“Well obviously I can’t let you live,” he said.

“I think I’ll pass,” I said. I drove my knee up as hard as I could into his crotch. He may not have been entirely human, but he still went down as hard as any human man.

I dropped down to pick up my knife, doing my best to ignore the pain the quick movement caused in my head. I didn’t give the shapeshifter time to recover. I immediately turned to him and drove the knife into his heart. He gasped in shock and pain and then collapsed, unmoving.

I rose to my feet and made my way – a little unsteadily – out of the house. I was pretty sure I had a concussion and that fight had taken all the strength and energy I could muster. As I stepped out of the house, a car came screeching down the road and parked next to the only other car on the street. I didn’t know if I could really handle it, but I prepared myself for another fight.

The driver door opened and a tall man stepped out. Sam, I realized when he called my name. And the car he was in was the Impala. How had he gotten it? Sam ran over to me and put a steadying hand on my shoulder.

“Are you ok? What happened?” He asked.

“Where’s Dean?” I asked, ignoring his questions.

“I don’t know. I’ve been looking for both of you,” Sam said. “I found Dean’s car at the second house, but no sign of him. I was hoping I’d find him here with you.”

Just then we heard a muffled banging noise coming from the other car on the street.

“Stay here,” Sam told me, drawing his gun as he walked towards it. I was in no position to argue seeing as the dizziness was returning and I was struggling to keep my balance. He stopped by the trunk of the car. “Dean?”

“Sam! Get me out of here,” I heard Dean say from inside.

“Just a second,” Sam breathed out in relief. He tucked his gun back into his jeans and went around to the front of the car in search of the keys. He pulled them out of the ignition and then opened the trunk. Dean jumped out, fuming. He was down to just jeans and a t-shirt, the shifter having stolen the rest of his usual layers.

“Where is it? I’m gonna kill it,” he seethed, marching towards the house. He paused momentarily when he saw me swaying on the sidewalk and then hurried over to me. He wrapped my arm around his shoulders and put his own around my waist to help me stay balanced.

“What happened? Did the siren do something to you? Where is it?” He asked.

“It was a shapeshifter, not a siren,” I told both him and Sam who had followed close behind his brother.

“Was?” Sam questioned.

“It’s dead,” I said.

“That explains why my clothes are gone,” Dean said irritatedly. “Why is it that we seem to be leaving behind a trail of shapeshifter bodies wearing my face?”

“Well, you’re an objectively good looking guy. Maybe they just can’t resist all the girls they know they’ll get with a face like that,” I teased.

“Alright, well you’re obviously in even worse shape than I thought,” Dean said, half teasing half genuinely worried. I guess I haven’t ever said anything to him before about him being attractive. This concussion was loosening my tongue apparently. “Sam, you mind getting the body? I’m gonna get Wobbly here to the car.”

“Why can’t we just leave it?” Sam asked.

“Because I want my clothes back for one thing,” Dean replied. “And for another, I don’t want to be blamed for yet another set of murders.”

“Good point,” Sam agreed. He headed for the house.

Dean turned us towards the car and the movement caused me to trip a little on my own feet. The adrenaline was fading away, leaving me helpless to fight off the dizziness that I thought had disappeared.

Rather than let me stumble my way to the car, Dean moved the arm he had around my waist a little higher on my back and put his other arm under my knees, scooping me up in his arms and carrying me. I couldn’t be bothered to keep my head held up and rested it against his chest.

“What happened?” he asked, referring to my balance issues.

“He caught me by surprise and hit me over the head. I think I have a concussion.”

“You thought he was me, so you didn’t see it coming,” Dean said. He adjusted my weight so he was able to open the car door.

“No. He looked like someone else. I turned my back to take a call and he hit me. When I woke up he was pretending to be you,” I explained.

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” he sighed as he gently set me down, careful not to hit my head.

“Why?” I wondered.

“He took me out too. Only I didn’t even know he was there. If I’d been paying attention better, I could have stopped him before he got to you,” Dean said, ashamed.

“Not everything is your fault, you know,” I told him. I saw Sam step out of the house, a large body tossed over his shoulder. “This isn’t on you. And it doesn’t matter anyway. It’s over.”

I could tell he didn’t agree with me and he would beat himself up over this for a while. But he left to open the trunk for Sam and I was too exhausted to try and convince him otherwise.

~~~~~

An hour later Sam was watching over me while Dean went to take care of the body. I sat on the lumpy couch and held a bag of frozen peas to the back of my head in an attempt to bring down the swelling. I’d taken Ibuprofen as soon as we got to the motel and both the headache and the dizziness were slowly starting to fade. I’m sure finally sitting still helped the situation too.

“Why do you think it killed them?” Sam wondered aloud. “I mean, how did he choose his victims?”

“He chose women that he considered beautiful and that were in love. He turned into the man they loved and when he was done with them, he killed them,” I answered even though he hadn’t actually been expecting an explanation.

“He told you?” He asked, surprised.

“In way too much detail,” I said.

He was quiet for a moment.

“You know what I don’t get? If it wasn’t a siren then where did the oxytocin come from?”

“The what?” I asked.

“Oxytocin. It’s a hormone that sirens infect you with,” he explained. “Actually, Dean was on his way to warn you when he got ambushed. I told him that all the women had high levels and so it looked like they were the ones being targeted.”

My face drained of blood at the reminder of what that thing had done to those women. Of what he’d tried to do to me.

“I know what it is,” I told him. “And it’s not specific to sirens. It’s a naturally occurring hormone in the body. Ever heard of the love hormone?” At his nod I continued. “It occurs during childbirth, breastfeeding… and sex. That’s why he wanted women that were in love. He said it’s so much better that way.”

Understanding showed on his face alongside a mix of horror and protective anger.

“Y/N… he didn’t?”

“No,” I assured him quickly. “Not me anyway. I figured out what he was too quickly.”

Relief replaced the other emotions on his face and he stayed silent as he processed this new information. Then he wrinkled his brow in confusion.

“You said he chose women that were in love,” he said.

“Yeah,” I confirmed.

“So why did he go after you?”

I was practiced enough at hiding my feelings for the older Winchester from both brothers that I didn’t even have to hesitate to come up with an explanation.

“I guess he found me attractive. Per his usual pattern, he turned into me to see if I was in love with anyone and found out pretty quickly that I’m a hunter.”

“Then why did he turn into Dean?” He asked.

“He was pretending to rescue me,” I answered.

“Right, but why? What’s the point? If he wanted you dead, he had the chance. There was no reason for him to mess with you that way.”

I didn’t have a reasonable explanation for this, so I stayed quiet.

“He wasn’t just going after you because you’re a hunter. You fit the profile he was after and he wanted to-” he cut himself off and considered his wording. “He wanted to… complete his usual pattern. Because you’re in love with Dean,” he surmised, smiling a little bit at this conclusion.

I decided silence was the best option here. I couldn’t possibly contradict his completely accurate deduction. I wouldn’t outright confirm it for him, but I wasn’t going to deny what we both knew to be true.

“Y/N.”

More silence.

“Tell me I’m wrong and I’ll drop it,” he promised. I sighed.

“You know you’re not,” I told him.

“Then why don’t you do something about it?” He asked.

“There’s nothing to do about it,” I answered. “He doesn’t see me that way. And that’s fine. I’ve accepted it.”

“How do you know he doesn’t feel the same if you don’t tell him?”

“Sam, I’m really not in any condition to do anything to you right now, but I swear if you say anything to him, there’s going to be hell to pay in a couple of days,” I warned.

“I’m not going to say anything,” he said, offended by my assumption. “But I really think you should tell him. You guys are so great together. I think you would be good for each other. And I would be very happy for you.”

“Thanks, I guess. My head hurts too much to even consider thinking about this right now,” I told him.

“Alright, fine. I’ll let it go,” he conceded. “For now.”

“That’s all I ask.”

After that we sat in companionable silence while we waited for Dean to get back. Sam turned the TV on. I closed my eyes to block out the light and just listened to it, finding it to be a suitable distraction from the day’s events.

Dean got back probably twenty minutes later by my estimation.

“Hey, how are you doing?” He asked as soon as the door was shut behind him.

“A little better,” I told him.

“Good,” he said. He took the peas from my hand and gently felt the lump that had formed on the back of my head. “I think the swelling might actually be going down a little bit.”

He took the now room temperature peas to the freezer and switched them out for a fresh bag. He handed it to me and then sat down beside me, putting his arm around me.

“Is this ok?” He asked. He didn’t know the details that Sam did about the shapeshifter’s intentions, but he knew that I had been attacked today by a guy wearing his face.

“You don’t have to tiptoe around me,” I told him. “I know it wasn’t you. For the record, I knew the whole time it wasn’t you. I’m fine. I’m not traumatized and I’m not afraid of you.”

“A simple yes would have been fine,” he teased, pulling me closer into his side.

Movement from Sam’s direction had me glancing at him. He just smiled at me, looking meaningfully at Dean and then winking at me. I would have rolled my eyes if the action wouldn’t hurt my head. Instead I pointedly looked away from him. Things with me and Dean were fine the way they were. I wasn’t going to mess it up now just because Sam knew about my feelings.

A romantic relationship with Dean was something I wanted, but not something I needed. This right here – sitting together with my two best friends, knowing that even though I was temporarily unable to defend myself should it be necessary I was still safe and protected – this was all I needed. At least, that’s what I’d continue to tell myself.

Chapter 2

Tags:

@123passwort

#supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #familiar #reader insert #dean winchester #sam winchester #case fic #monster of the week #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester x platonic!reader #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x platonic!reader #writing prompt

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sopiao · 9 months

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HAI!! I LUV ALL OF UR WORK THEY GOT ME GIGGLIN AND SHIT 🤭🤭

can i request a young teen reader (like 15-16) being watched over and taken care of by their body guards, the 141. like. they’re sick and is part of a dangerous chain, they get hired to take care of you and just overall body guard you???

pls ignore this if this is too much or if you don’t feel like it! be safe!

EHYDHEHSHEHS TY TY TY!!!

this idea is actually so cute. i struggled trying to think for this 🤐

Tossing and turning in your hospital bed, you already read every book that was gifted to you and brought from your home. Already watched every show on the TV. Already made like a couple hundred paper cranes out of boredom. Hell, you’ve been here so long the flowers you got, when you were first admitted, has already wilted and died due to lack of sunlight. That’s how you felt

A soft knock on the door made you sit up immediately. You saw your doctor, your mom, and four strange men. Your mom never explained what she did, expect that you could never get involved in it, and never know what she did. All you knew is that it was dangerous, but she made lots of money from it so she could give you a comfortable life.

As always, she gave you a short and subtle explanation, as always. She introduced the men, but you took little to no interest in this. All you know was that you weren’t safe in a public hospital and had to stay somewhere more private and secluded.

Something like “Mommy got caught up with some people and you need to take a trip” You hated every time she baby explained something to you. You aren’t 5.

—

The car ride there was quite, Ghost having to hold his arm up the entire ride to keep your IV running. You already knew that you’d never be alone from that point on, always being monitored and with someone.

“We already prepared a room for you” Price explained, only earning a hum from you as a response. They didn’t find your silence and lack in response or communication rude or ignorant, just understood that some people like to talk and some don’t. Your room was right in the middle of the hallway, in between everyone else’s, assuming it was for your safety in case anyone found you.

Price let you open the door to see your reaction. The room was.. cozy. In a way. You can tell they tried. There were soft white fairy lights across the lining of the ceiling. It was a quilted comforter with many different patterns. Books laid out in the bed side table for you, ones you never read before. Soft rugs, and a huge and a plushy bean bag.

But what caught your attention the most was the overwhelming amount of stuffed animals that littered the bed. You wanted to laugh but only let out a little chuckle, the only other sound from you the entire time you were with them, aside from the occasional hum response.

They all watched cautiously as you slowly entered the room, looking around and inspecting each little trinket of the room they added, Ghost having to follow behind to keep your IV bag dripping.

“Is it okay for you?” Soap is the first to speak up, all watching how you just sit at the foot of the bed and just look around, noticing something new each second. Wow, they even got you the white princess canopy you wanted when you were like five. Even the skele-animals plushie you wanted six years ago. Most likely your mom told them about this. A for effort.

“Yeah, its… good” You softly nod, Soap and Gaz smile to each other.

“Told ya” you heard subtly from Gaz who stuck his tongue out at Ghost who just rolls his eyes and turn away, who starts to attach your IV bag to the metal pole. They’re hesitant to leave you by yourself, but you insist that you’ll just take a nap for a little bit.

—

A couple hours later, lunch, Price reminds Ghost to go in and ask you what you’d like for lunch. They can eat whenever they want, their more concerned for you. When he hears silence after knocking four separate times, not wanting to intrude on you. He just assumes that you’re still sleeping.

His heart drops to his stomach once he sees the bed empty, and you’re IV pole gone. He rushes into the house’s living room, alerting his teammates. First they do a scan of the house, maybe you wanted to use the bathroom, or check out the other rooms. When the rooms are empty they start to check out the outside, spreading out.

Price finds you in the backyard. Sighing as he relaxes and un-tense his body, slowly making his way towards you. You’re crouched in the ground, back facing him, with your IV pole standing beside you. His shadow looms over you, signaling you that there’s someone behind you, though you don’t say or do anything, just continuing watching the ants climb in and out of the small ant hill.

His shadow looks over you, signaling you that there’s someone behind you, but it doesn’t alarm you. You just continue staring how the ants follow in one singular line.

“Gave us a scare there, kid” Price grunts as he crouches down next to you, wondering what’s so interesting about them, earning the usual hum in response, the only time you’ve acknowledged his presence.

“What’re ya’ lookin’ at?” Price turns to look at you, hugging your knees and chin resting atop of them. He watches you use a twig to push a stray ant back in line.

“Y’know if you wanna go out, you should come and tell us, bring us along” He says in a tone that tries to convince you that they wanna spend time, but is really so you won’t be alone.

“Mhm”

—

Day 2. And you’re still stuck in this hospital gown. You try to look through the dresser and drawers for any clothes, or at least fresh underwear, or clean socks. But when you find the wooden drawers empty you escort yourself and the metal pole, you’re growing used to, to the living room where they’re all playing card games.

They don’t notice your presence yet, focusing on whether the other has the card they need or not. So, you just stand and stare at them, for a good 4 minutes until Gaz catches you in the corner of his eye. Jumping and dropping all his cards face up on the table.

They all laugh then turn once they realize that Gaz is staring at the hallway. Soap clears his throat and asks what you need while Price puts out his cigar to keep you from inhaling the fumes.

“I need clothes” Is all you said. The same expression plastered on their faces, just remembering that they forgot something.

“That’s what it was” Soap mutters.

“Told you we were missing something, idiot” Ghost scolds him, seems like a usual occurrence.

They end up having to drive to the nearest Goodwill to buy you some clothes. They knew that if your mother found out she’d be displeased, but you insisted that it’s where you wanted. You couldn’t leave and go around public in your hospital gown since it’ll raise suspicion.

Which caused you to have to borrow some of their clothes for the time being. Had to borrow Gaz’s pants since he’s the shortest from all of them, thought by only an inch, it was the closest size to you. It draped over you and covered your shoes. Soap offered his shirt which reached your thighs. Had a tear in the bottom.

Ghost decided to stay and stick with you while you picked up clothes, watching intently in what you picked out and what you looked at, holding up your IV, but not too high to make it that noticeable. Noting what you took interest in, processing your style.

“Didn’t know these still existed” Price came up to the two of you with Soap behind him, holding up a cassette player in his hand. Soap had an old digital camera, looking through the photos.

“You should get it, Cap’” Soap suggests, getting bored with the camera. You’re still looking through clothes, but still listening to them talk.

“What the hell would I even do with this?” He chuckles, inspecting the inside and each button to see if it’s functional— and not laced with crack.

“Mm-mm Just to have it?” Soap shrugs, taking the clothes out from your arm to hold for you, and to look at.

“That’s stupid”.

“They have cassettes at the front” You speak up, making them all look at you, since you never speak unless absolutely needed. They’re happy that you’re slowly getting comfortable to speak but don’t want to say anything to jinx it. Price just makes his way towards the front to look for them, you can tell by the little rushed way he walks that he’s enjoying himself.

You find a Dio shirt in the racks, their band dates and locations on the back, like something you’d by from a concert.

“Do people still listen to them?” Ghost whispers, mostly to himself, you can tell his interested. Never would’ve thought that he’d be into that band. You add it into your stash, laying it on your arm. When you get back to the house you end up giving it to him since ‘It doesn’t fit. Too big’ by what you said.

—

Gaz couldn’t sleep at all, it was way too hot. He walked out of his room, using the bottom of his shirt to wipe his face. He entered the kitchen to grab a glass of water but almost screams when he sees you by the counter, sitting on the edge with a sandwich in your hand.

“If you were hungry you should’ve woken one of us up” He sighed, hand on his chest to calm himself down, worried when he saw the knife next to you covered in nutella.

“No. Too much work. Didn’t wanna bother” You shook your head, already half way through your sandwich. He chuckled, looking through the fridge for the water pitcher.

“What did ya’ make?” Gaz asked, leaning against the counter next to you, taking a long gulp from his glass.

“Nutella and Cheerio’s” You take another big bite from your sandwich. He cringes at how sweet it must be but laughs at how often he’s tried it late at night too.

You two sit together in silence, occasional crunch from you eating your sandwich and a watery sip from Gaz. After you finish he asks if your full, shaking your head he offers to make you something. Looking up at him then nodding while muttering a thanks.

He makes you go sit in the living room and watch TV while he prepares something. There wasn’t much in the house but he made do with what he had in the house. After an episode and a half of The Amazing World of Gumball he came to the couch with two BLT sandwiches and two cans of soda.

“Didn’t even know we had bacon” You mutter to yourself as Gaz already starts eating, a muffled response you couldn’t really make out. You both just sit in silence once again, less awkward and more comfortable this time, as you both ate the food he prepped.

It was nice. Just eating sandwiches while watching cartoons at 2:14 in the morning.

—

You felt weak today, more than usual. Deciding to take a quick 20 minute nap, you wake up to loud talking, occasionally arguing accompanied by laughing, which made you a little irritated but you felt more energized.

Taking your IV pole with you, at this point you considered it a friend that followed you, you make your way to the living room, they’re all circled around the coffee table, either on the couch or on the floor.

You take a minute to watch before speaking up. Making them all jump when they notice your presence.

“What’re you doing?” You take a couple steps forward to look over their shoulders and see a Monopoly board and Monopoly money spread across the table.

“Wanna play?” Soap cocks his head to the side, scooting over to make room for you.

“I’ll watch” You take the empty spot next to him as they begin playing, less profanity and vulgar language this time, but still the same energy. Slowly you started to grow used to them. Laughed at how Gaz made Ghost pay up every time he hit his property, how Soap would take at least a minute to calculate his money for a deal, how Soap always got the short end of the straw, how they’d always fuck him over.

After a round they played again, but this time you were the banker. Handing out loans and taxes while you sipped on your juice box.

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