#she has to take him as he is (but also she's allowed to say 'hey i need this out of you to make MARRIAGE work')
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Season 1, Episode 21 - Salvation
Series Masterlist
Third Person POV
The silence was deafening as Sam drove down the interstate to Kansas. They decided to take F/N back to Kansas and give him a proper send off. His body was wrapped in a white blanket in the backseat of the Impala. Dean was behind him on Y/N's bike. Her arms wrapped around him tightly, her helmet covered head buried into the croak of his back. She was in no condition to drive at this very moment. The boys had to be strong for Y/N's sake right now, but seeing her so broken.
It tore into their souls. They lost a father figure themselves, but y/n lost her last bit of blood family. 'Family don't end in blood' as Bobby always said, but it still hurts like hell to lose those you care about. As much as Y/N and her father argued, she loved her dad. He was everything to her, a place in her heart no man could fulfill.
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Lawrence, Kansas
Y/N stood infront of the Hunter's Funeral Pyre, her eyes swollen and red, her face blank. A half drunk bottle of Jack in one hand and a almost burnt out cigarette butt in the other. She has cried her eyes out already, she felt drained as she watched her fathers body, wrapped in a white sheet on the pyer in flames. She left empty on the inside, constantly telling herself it should've been her on that pyre and not her dad.
She hadn't noticed when an unfamiliar van parked behind them. "Dad" Dean says in relief when he sees his father jump out of the van f/n loaned him for emergencies. Sam and Dean give their dad a quick hug, "How's she doing?" He asks his sons, concerned about Y/N. They look back at her with pity etched on their faces.
She was lost in her own thoughts, still not aware of John's presence. "She hasn't said a word since we left, Dad. Sam and I had to strap her in and everything. I rode her bike back and we took all the weapons from F/N's truck but abandoned it" Dean tells him, his voice broken. Seeing Y/N so pained yet so emotionless was heartbreaking for him. Not only losing a father figure but also the woman he loves looks like she's on the brink of insanity.
"She tossed that vampire through the air and made those car windows shatter with just her scream, Dad." Sam whispers to him. "You sure it was her?" John asks for confirmation. They both nod in unison. They shared a silent look, contemplating whether or not to tell their dad what they saw in her eyes when she shattered those windows with her mind.
"What is it boys?" John asks them when he noticed the look his sons shared. "Her eyes. They um...they turned...." Sam whispers, trailing off. "They turned what?" John asks him. "They turned white" Dean informs him. John nods, already having a mind of what's happening. "You're not concerned?" Dean asks him, surprised that John didn't have much of a reaction.
"It's typical for psychics' eyes to turn white when using an immense amount of power. It seems as though the trauma from...." John tears up a bit, taking a deep breath, "The trauma from F/N's death activated her powers. It's rare but not unlikely" He informs his sons who are astounded. Y/N is a full blown psychic now, they have no idea what her powers would be like. And neither does she.
"Is it true? Is the Colt real?" John asks them. They both nod, "Yeah. F/N used a bullet to kill the vampire that was going to kill Y/N. It's in the car" Dean tell him. John nods, stepping forward to walk closer to Y/N who's still stood infront of her fathers burning corpse on the pyer. "Hey sweetheart." He says gently, Y/N turns around eyes wide. "John" She croaks, tears again begin to well up in her eyes.
She flicks the cigarette butt to the side, John wraps his arms around her shoulder, pulling her in to a hug. "I'm so sorry about your father, y/n/n" John says genuinely, his chin resting at the top of Y/N's head, allowing his tears flow as he takes in the burning pyer with his fallen friend. A man he trusted with his life, a man he raised his children with side by side when their wives were taken from them.
A man he was proud to call his best friend and hunting partner, dare say, his brother. Now reduced to ash. "It's my fault" She drops her head, now sobbing again. "It's not your fault, Princess" Dean walks closer to her. Y/N breaks the hug with John, "You can't convince me otherwise charming" She says dryly sniffling, handing John the bottle of Jack. Dean pulls her in for a hug, she doesn't shrug him off this time.
She wraps his arms around her shoulders as John walks back to Sam who's leaning on the Impala, tears in his eyes. "He died protecting me, Dean. If Luther had just killed me first he wouldn't be-" She rambles but Dean cuts her off. "If you finish that sentence I swear Y/N...." He clenches his jaw. She sighs, sobbing. "Blaming yourself will send you down a deep rabbit hole, princess. We're here for you. And we'll never leave you...I'll never leave you" Dean promises her sincerely, tucking a stand of her messed up hair behind her eyes.
"Please don't" She pleads sniffling, her heart aching. Deans heart pangs painfully at her tone, she sounded absolutely broken. "Your father died getting that Colt, we have it now. And we're gonna get the thing that killed our moms. In honor of F/N. It's what he would want and you know it. We're stronger as a family, together. We'll get the son of a bitch" Dean assured her softly.
She looks back at the pyre, the heat from the flames gushing over her face. "Hey..." Dean uses his pointer finger to turn her face back to look at him. "I pinky promise" He gives her a small smile, putting up his pinky finger. She chokes back a sob, chuckling weakly. She puts her pinky finger up. "Pinky promise" She croaks, smiling tearfully as she locks her pinky with his.
Sam and John, who are leaning against the Impala, hands in their pockets. They tearfully smile as they look on at the two locking their pinkies together. John takes a swig of the whiskey before handing it to Sam, who accepts, taking a swig also.
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Sam, Dean, Y/N and John are now in a motel.
Their motel room was swarming with all of the information of the supernatural John and F/N had collected over the years. Papers stapled and tapes to the wall, John sat at the table while Sam and Dean sat on the bed. Y/N by the window, smoking again. Her expression blank, staring out the window. She nurses a glass of whiskey as she takes a drag.
"Here's to F/N L/N, a damn amazing hunter, a kick ass player of pool and poker, a father, a man I'm proud to have called my best friend. He didn't die in vain, he will be avenged" John and the kids toast to the life of f/n. They look up to the sky, "This one's for you buddy" John says heartedly. Tears in all of their eyes as they throw their heads back, gulping down the last of the Jack, her father's favorite.
Y/N grimaced harshly from the burn of the brown liquid. "So, this is it. This is everything I know" John begins, gesturing to all the information he had stuck to the walls. "Look kids, our whole lives we've been searching for this demon, right? Not a trace, just nothing" He adds. "Until about a year ago. For the first time, I picked up a trail" He explains.
"That's when you took off, then f/n found you and you guys conspired" Dean says. John nods. "The demon must have come out of hiding or hibernation" John suggest. "So, what's this trail you found?" Dean asks him. "Starts in Arizona, then New Jersey, California. Houses burned down to the ground. It's going after families, just like it went after all of us" John explains.
"Families with infants?" Sam asks. "Yeah" John nods. "The night of the kids 6-month birthday" He adds, this catches y/n's attention. "We were six months old those nights?" Y/N asks him in a croaky tone, finally speaking up. "Exactly 6 months" John sighs nodding. "So basically, this demon is going after these kids for some reason" Sam says. "Same way it came for us" Y/N scoffs, flicking her cigarette out the window.
"So Moms death, Mrs. L/N....Jessica. It's all because of us?" Sam says in disbelief. "We don't know that, guys" Dean says. "Oh, really? Because I'd say we're pretty damn sure, Dean!" Y/N snaps, raising her voice that cracks from her sore throat. "For the last time, what happened to Mom and Jess is not your fault, Sam!" Dean stresses. "And what happened to your mom and dad, isn't yours either, y/n" Dean tries to assure her but she rolls her eyes.
Shaking her head, "Yeah you're right, it's not our fault but it's our problem!" Sam defends, raising his voice. "No it's not both your problems, it's our problem!" Dean raises his voice. "Okay. That's enough" John cuts into their argument, he stands up from his chair. They all subside the argument, sighing.
"So why is it doing it? What does it want?" Sam asks him as Dean moves to where John was sitting. "Look, I wish I had more answers. I do. We've always been step behind it" John says a bit frustrated. "Look, I've never gotten there in time to save..." He trails off, it's painful enough to talk about Mary and now F/N's death was so fresh.
Silence fell in the room, "So how do we find it before it hits again?" Dean asks quietly. "There are signs." John answers, turning to his elder son. "Look. It took us a while to see the pattern but in the days before these fires, signs crop up in an area" He begins to explain. "Cattle deaths, temperature fluctuations, electrical storms" John lists off.
Dean looks up in realization when his father lists off the signs. "And then, I went back and checks, and..." John trails off. "These things happened in right here Lawrence" Dean points out. John nods. "A week before your mother and m/n died" He confirms. The three young hunters share a look before John turns to Sam. "And in Palo Alto....before Jessica" John says lowly, Sam's eyes filling with tears.
"And these signs, they're starting again" He tells them. "Where?" Y/N asks John. "Salvation, Iowa" John responds.
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Salvation, Iowa
The Impala, Harley and Ford Ranger drove past the sign leading into Salvation, Iowa. Sam in the Impala, John in the Ford Ranger and Y/N with Dean on the Harley. He refused to leave her side, she said she was okay to ride but he still didn't want to leave her to ride alone. Y/N and Sam notice John swerve into a track on the side of the highway, they're confused but follow him in.
John jumps out of his Ranger frustrated, "Goddamn it! Son of a bitch!" John punches the van. "What is it?" Dean asks him confused and concerned as he and Y/N take off their helmets. "We just got a call from Caleb" John tells him as Sam jumps out of the Impala. "Is he okay?" Sam asks him concerned. "He's fine. Jim Murphy's dead" John informs them, his tone angry. "Pastor Jim?" Sam asks him in shock, tilting his head.
John nods. "How?" Y/N asks. "Throat was slashed. He bled out" John looks down, still in shock that he not only lost his best friend but another one of his longest friends. The three young hunters are grief stricken, "Caleb said they found traces of sulfur at Jim's place." John adds. "A demon.." Dean says.
A look on his father face makes him raise his eyebrows. "THE demon?" Y/N asks shocked. "I don't know. Could be he just got- He just got careless, he slipped up. Maybe the demon knows we're getting close" John shakes his head in disbelief. "What do you wanna do?" Dean asks him firmly. "Now we act like every second counts" John responds.
"There's two hospitals and a health center in this county. We split up, and we cover more ground. I want records, I want a list of every infant that's gonna be 6 months old in the next week" John orders. "John, that's could be dozens of kids." Y/N exaggerates. "How the hell are we gonna know which ones the right one?" Sam questions his father in agreement to Y/N's point.
"We'll check them all, that's how" John answers firmly. "You two got any other idea?" John asks them in a hard tone. Sam and Y/N share a look, "No, sir" They respond in unison. They all turn to jump back on their vehicles, John stops and stares down for a second, Dean notices this. "Dad?" He calls out for his father in concern. "Yeah?" John responds turning back.
"It's F/N and now it's Jim" John says in a tearful tone. "You know..I can't" He looks up, tears welling in his eyes. "Yeah. Me neither" Y/N agrees in a croaky tone. John gives her a sympathetic look. "This ends now. I'm ending it. I don't care what it takes" John says firmly. Opening the door to the Impala, he jumps in.
Sam follows behind as Y/N and Dean hop back on Quinn. John starts the ignition, driving out. Y/N places her helmet on, Dean doing the same. He wraps his arms tightly around Y/N's waist. She dismounts her bike, the roar of her engine filling the quiet area. Riding out behind John.
Sam and Y/N are now at the Salvation Medical Center, looking over birth certificates after posing as officers. "Here you go, officers". A nurse approaches them, handing them another file of birth certificates. "Thank you" Sam thanks her. "You're welcome" The nurse smiles before walking off.
As Sam and Y/N walk out of the hospital to meet John and Dean. Their heads begin to pound, the familiar feeling of a building pressure in their heads. Flashes of a vision as they hold their foreheads in pain.
A lit lamp.
A dangling toy clown.
A woman in a white night gown and her baby, she's rocking her baby to sleep. A smile on her face.
She rests her baby down in her crib. Before giving her baby a kiss.
The sound of a train whistle blowing draws the mothers attention outside.
She walks downstairs to look out the window.
She then makes her way back up to her babys nursery, the sound of a music box playing.
When they open back their eyes, gasping from the pain. "Did you just.." Y/N asks him. Sam nods breathing heavily. "A train" Sam says. "Holy shit." Y/N gasps, she digs into Sam's bag and takes out a map. Shakily opening it, they both look for a train line on the map. "That's not too far from here" Sam points out. They share a look before following the map.
A couple blocks over, they run through a park. The pressure in their heads building up again. They hold their heads in pain, as a vision comes flashing again.
The woman opens her baby's nursery to see a strange hooded figure leaning over her baby's crib.
Sam and Y/N open their eyes again, walking a bit forwards. "You okay, Sammy?" Y/N asks him concerned. Sam seemed to be in more pain than her, "Yeah, I'm okay" He nods shakily. Her eyes flicker behind Sam, her mouth agape when she notices the house. "What is i-..." Sam asks her concerned, he turns around. His statement cutting short when he sees the house behind him.
The window identical to the one from the vision they both had. They look over to the sidewalk to see the same woman from their visions, walking with a umbrella over her head pushing a stroller. They share a look, "We gotta go talk to her" Sam says. "We can't just approach her Sam. It'll seem weird" Y/N says exasperated.
"We don't have a choice. Follow my lead" He grumbles. Y/N huffs, shaking her head. She obliged, following Sams leads. "Hi, here. Let me hold that. You look like you don't need that anymore" Sam says politely. Gently helping her hold the stroller. The woman smiles gratefully. "Hi. Thanks" She says sweetly. Closing her umbrella.
"She's beautiful. Is she yours?" Y/N asks her, smiling down at the baby. "Yeah" The woman responds smiling. "Oh wow. Hi" Sam waves at the baby smiling. "Oh. I'm sorry. We're rude. I'm Y/N and my fiancé Sam. We just moved in up the block" Y/N apologizes, putting her hand out to shake the woman's.
Sam raises his eyebrow at her lie but goes with it. "Oh hey, I'm Monica and this is Rosie" The woman politely introduces herself and her daughter. "Rosie? Hi Rosie" Y/N smiles, waving at the little baby. "So welcome to the neighborhood. It's good to have new couples in the neighborhood." Monica smiles. "Thank you" Sam says gratefully.
"She's such a good baby" Sam compliments Rosie. Monica smiles "I know. She- I mean, she never cries. She just stares at everybody. Sometimes she looks at you and I swear it's-" Monica chuckles. "It's like she's reading your mind" She says ironically. The two hunters share a look.
"What about you, Monica? Have you lived here long?" Y/N asks curiously. "Oh, my husband and I, we bought our place just before Rosie was born." Monica tells them, pointing to the house they saw in their vision. "And how old is Rosie?" Sam asks. "She's 6 months today" Monica says proudly.
Their faces drop, "She's big, right? Growing like a weed. I'm sure you guys can't wait to have your own" Monica says, she notices the sad look on Sam and Y/N's faces when she says this. "Oh gosh, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to assume-" Monica apologizes profusely, assuming Sam and Y/N are having trouble procreating. "No! It's fine, we just uh...we-" Sam says awkwardly, internally grimacing at the thought.
"Just take care of yourself, okay?" Y/N says sweetly. "Yeah. You too, guys. We'll see you around" Monica says politely, pushing her stroller towards her house. "Yeah, definitely" Sam says, looking down. They both move across the street to hear a car honk. "Oh, there's Daddy" Monica says in a baby voice to her daughter.
A red SUV pulls into their driveway and a tall man exits, giving Monica a kiss. The two look on but are cut off when the pain in their heads hit again, a vision flashing again.
The music box in the Rosie's nursery is playing, a clown with other ornaments hanging above the baby's crib.
The music suddenly stops and the toys begin to move. A figure approaches the crib as Monica walks in.
She gasps when she sees the strange man in her room. "What are you-" She yells but is thrown into the wall by a force.
Monica grunts and screams as she's slid up the wall and onto the ceiling. "Rosie!" She screams, crying on the ceiling above Rosie's crib.
A familiar wound appears in her stomach, blood dripping down down into her crib.
Monica then bursts into flames, screaming as she burns on the ceiling.
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After their visions returned, Sam and Y/N met back up in the motel room with John and Dean. Now explaining it, they're basically getting chewed out. "A vision?" John is in disbelief. "Yes" Sam and Y/N answer, sat by the table, groaning in pain as they rub their heads.
Dean and John were sat on the bed. "We saw the demon burning a woman on the ceiling" Sam says. "Right. And you think it's gonna happen to this you guys met woman because...?" He asks them. "Because these things happen exactly the way we see them" Y/N responds. Dean gets up, walking over to the fridge. "Yeah, they started out as nightmares. Then they started happening when they were awake" Dean explains.
"Yeah. It's like— I don't know. It's like the closer we get to anything involving the demon....the stronger the vision gets" Sam says, the two younger hunters still holding their heads in pain as Dean pours them some coffee. "Alright, when were you gonna tell me about this?" John asks a bit angry. They all turn to him.
"We didn't know what it meant" Dean puts it simply. "Alright, something like this starts happening to your brother and y/n, you pick up the phone and you call me" John states firmly. Y/N's eye twitches angrily towards John at his tone while Sam shakes his head annoyed. Dean places the coffee next to Sam, handing Y/N hers. "Call you? Are you kidding me?" Dean scoffs in disbelief at the irony, walking closer to his father as the agitation builds.
"Dad, I called you from Lawrence. Alright? Sam called you and I called f/n when y/n was dying!" Dean exclaims angrily. "I mean, getting you on the phone. I got a better chance at winning the lottery" Dean further retaliates. John looks down in shame, nodding his head at the fact his son was right. "You're right" John admits.
They were all surprised when those words came out of his mouth. "Although, I'm not real crazy about this new tone of yours, you're right. I'm sorry" John apologizes. "Look, guys, visions or now visions, the fact is, we know the demon is coming tonight. And this family's gonna go through the same hell we all went through" Y/N chimes in, stating the fact of the matter.
"No, they're not. No one is, every again" John says determined. Sam phone rings, he answers it. Putting it to his ear. "Hello?" He answers. "Sam?" A familiar woman's voice chimes over the phone in an excited tone. "Who is this?" He cocks his eyebrows. "Think real hard. It'll come to you" She smirks over the phone. Realization dawns on him, shock taking over. "Meg" he says in recognition.
Dean and Y/N's ears perk up at that name. Their gazes snapping to Sam. He turns to Dean and Y/N as John gets up from the bed. "Last time I saw you, you fell out of a window" Sam states. "Yeah, thanks to your bitch of a friend. That really hurt my feelings, by the way" Meg responds snarkily. "Just your feelings? That was a seven story drop." Sam scoffs. "Let me speak to your dad" Meg demands
He looks over at John nervously. "My dad? I don't know where he is" Sam lies quickly. "It's time for the grownups to talk, Sam. Let me speak to him now" She further demands. John puts his hand out for Sam to give him the phone. He hesitantly does so, Dean and Y/N look on, not knowing what to say or do. "This is John" John presses the phone to his ear.
"Howdy, John. I'm Meg. I'm a friend of your boys and their bitch" Meg introduces herself. "I'm also the one who watched Jim Murphy choke on his own blood" She smirks. John heart drops, "Still there, John boy?" She says in a mocking tone. "I'm here" He answers gruffly. "Well, that was yesterday. Today, I'm in Lincoln....visiting another old friend of yours and f/n" She tells him, looking down at Caleb who's tied to a chair in a basement, gagged.
"He wants to say hi" She pulls the bandana she gagged him with off of his mouth, putting the phone to his mouth. "John, whatever they do, don't give-" He goes to warn John but she pulls the phone away, "Caleb?" John gasps. "Caleb. You listen to me. He's got nothing to do with anything. You let him go" He demands. "We know you have the Colt, John" Meg says.
"I don't know what you're talking about" John denies. "Oh, okay. So listen to this" Meg smirks, wielding her knife, she slits Caleb's throat. John hears him gasping, gargling om his blood. "Caleb? Caleb?!" He calls out worried. "You hear that? That's the sound of your friend dying. Now let's try this again" Meg says menacingly, tears welling up in John's eyes.
"We know you have the gun, John. We know F/N found it and is dead. Word travels fast. So as far as we're concerned, f/n declared war and now you're in charge commander. This is what war looks like. It has casualties" She smirks. "I'm gonna kill you. You know that?" John growls angrily. Meg chuckles arrogantly. "Oh, John, please. Mind your blood pressure" She retorts dryly as John wipes his tears away.
"So this is the thing: We're gonna keep doing what we're doing. And your friends, anyone who's ever helped you and F/N, gave you shelter, anyone you ever loved. They'll all die unless you give us that gun" Meg threatens. John doesn't answer, the three young hunters looking on in concern. "I'm waiting, Johnny. Better answer before the buzzer" Meg says mockingly. "Okay" He responds quietly.
"Sorry. I didn't quite get that" Meg smirks. "I said, okay. I'll bring you the Colt" He says firmly. The boys and Y/N looks at him in disbelief. Y/N specifically getting angry. "There's a warehouse in Lincoln on the corner of Wabash and Lake. You're gonna meet me there" She orders him. He looks over at the younger hunters, only to be met with Y/N's furious look.
"It's gonna take me about a day's drive to get there." He tells Meg. "That's impossible. I can't get there in time and I can't just carry a gun on a plane" John scoffs. "Oh, then I guess your friends die, don't they?" Meg says ironically. "If you do decide to make it, come alone" She orders, hanging up. John then takes the phone off his ear, turning back to them.
"Are you kidding me?!" Y/N yells at John pissed. "Calm down, I think she's a demon" John says calmly, this makes Y/N's eye twitch more. "You think she's a demon?" Sam asks, "Either that or she's possessed by one. Doesn't really matter. I'm going to Lincoln" John says firmly. "Oh you've gotta be fucking with me" Y/N scoffs, chuckling humorlessly. The boys look over at her worried, "Excuse me?" John says baffled.
"I don't have a choice, y/n. If I don't go, a lot of people are going to die. Our friends die!" John says defensively. "MY FATHER DIED GETTING THAT GUN! He laid in my hands bleeding and took his last damn breath! The demon is coming for Monica and her family tonight. That gun is all we got, you can't just hand it over!" Y/N grits her teeth, eyes wide in anger. Tears streaming down her face.
Sympathy etched on all of their faces at her out burst. "Who said anything about handing it over sweetheart?" John says calmly, her anger diminishing a bit. "Besides us and a couples of vampires, no one's really seen the gun. No one knows what it looks like" John states. "So what, you're just gonna pick up a ringer at a pawnshop?" Dean scoffs. "Antique store" John responds.
They look at him in disbelief. "You're gonna hand Meg a fake gun and hope she doesn't notice?" Dean asks. "Look, as long as it's close, she should be able to tell the difference" John states. "Yeah but for how long? What happens when she figures it out?" Y/N asks. "I just- I just need to buy a few hours, that's all" John reasons. "You mean for me, Dean and y/n" Sam says in realization.
John doesn't answer, "You want us to stay here...and kill this demon by ourselves?" Sam says as Dean and Y/N look between him and John. "No, Sam. I wanna stop losing people we love. I want you to go to school, I want Dean and Y/N to have a home" John croaks, turning away so they don't see him crying. "I want my best friend back.....I want Mary and m/n alive" He sobs lightly, putting his hand over his face.
Their hearts panged hearing John sob. He turns back to them, his face stained with tears. "I just- I just want this to be over" He sniffles. Sam, Dean and Y/N share a painful look.
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It's the middle of the day. Sam, John and Dean are parked below the train tracks, rummaging through Dean cars anything John could use against demons. Most items were found from F/N's truck. The engine of Y/N's bike roar draws their attention to behind them. She swerves it, putting it in park. She turns the ignition off, then taking off her helmet. She then swings her leg off her bike before mounting her bike.
"Did you get it?" John asks her as she walks towards them. She nods, taking the paper bag with a gun inside from out of the inside of her jacket. She hands it to John. "You know this is a trap, don't you?" Dean tells him father as he takes the gun out of the bag, it was almost identical to the Colt. "That's why Meg wants you to come alone" Dean further states.
"I can handle her. I got a whole arsenal loaded" John states smirking cockily. "Holy water, Mandaic amulets-" He lists off but Dean cuts him off. "Dad" John looks up. "What?" He asks. "Promise me something" Dean says. "What's that?" John questions. "This thing goes south, just get the hell out. Don't get yourself killed, alright. You're no good to us dead" Dean pleads.
John looks down nodding. "Same goes for you" He responds smiling a bit. "Alright, listen to me." He begins, pulling the Colt out from his pocket. "They made the bullets special for this Colt. There's only four of them left and without them, this gun is useless" John explains to them. "You make every shot count" He orders them. "Yes, sir" The three young hunters respond in unison firmly.
"I've been waiting a long time for this fight. Now it's here, I'm not gonna be in it. And neither is f/n. It's up to you kids now" John says sadly, y/n looks down painfully at the mention of her father. "It's your fight. You guys finish this. You finish what we started. You understand?" John says firmly. They all nod.
Dean still looking unsure about the whole thing. John then hands the Colt to his elder son. "We'll see you soon, John" Y/N says to him. He turns to her and smiles, "I'll see you kids later" He pats Y/N and Sam on their shoulders. Walking over to the van. He opens the door and jumps in. Starting the ignition, he drives off.
Sam, Dean and Y/N look on as he drives away. "Later" Dean finally says. His mind still telling him that John shouldn't have gone.
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John pulls into the location Meg gave him, taking off his headlights. He jumps out of the van, the gun in his hand that he was gonna pass off as the Colt. He picks it in his pant and pulls out the holy water and Mandaic amulets from his pocket. Gripping them, he sticks them back in. Now walking towards the warehouse.
Meanwhile. Back in Iowa. Sam, Dean and Y/N are outside of Monica's house in the Impala. Y/N having left her bike at the motel. "Maybe we could tell them there's a gas leak. Might get them out of the house for a few hours" Sam suggests. "Yeah, and how many times has that actually worked for us?" Y/N scoffs ironically. "Yeah" Sam sighs in agreement.
"Could always tell them the truth" Sam shrugs. The three of them look at each other in silence before bursting out laughing. "Nahhh" Dean and Y/N laugh. "No I know I know I Just-" Sam laughs. "With what's coming for these people..." Sam sighs. "Guys, we only got one move and you know it. We gotta wait for that demon to show itself and then...we get it before it gets them" Dean says firmly.
"I wonder how dad is doing" Sam thinks out loud. "I'd feel a lot better is we were there backing him up" Dean sighs. "I'd feel a lot better if he were here backing us up" Y/N chuckles humorlessly. The boys nod at her statement, now looking back at Monica on the window.
Back in Lincoln, Meg enters the warehouse while John creeps around the side. Climbing up a shaft. He opens a tank with water that connects to the warehouse pipes, he begins praying in Latin, holding up the Mandaic amulet. After finishing the incantation, he drops the Amulet in.
Back in Iowa, "This is weird" Y/N says as they stalk Monica's house. Dean turns to her, "What?" He asks her. "After all these years, we're finally here" She says. "It doesn't seem real" Sam adds in agreement. In the back of deans mind, he agrees but they've gotta stay strong. "We just gotta keep our head and do our job, like always" He says. "Yeah, but this isn't like always" Sam further states. Dean turns back to them before saying, "True" He sighs.
"Guys, uh....I wanna thank you two" Sam says genuinely. They look at him confused, "For what?" Dean asks. "For everything" Sam smiles tearfully. "You two have always had my back, you know? Even when I couldn't count on anyways, I could always count on either of you. And now..." Sam says sincerely, trailing on. "I don't know, I just wanted to let you guys know that. Just in case" He finishes.
Y/N's eyebrow raises at the last part while Dean scoffs. "Whoa. Whoa. Whoa. Are you kidding me?" Dean scoffs. "What?" Sam asks confused. "Don't say 'Just in case something happens to you'. We don't wanna hear that fucking speech man" Y/N says annoyed. "Nobody's dying tonight. Not us, not that family. Nobody!" Dean says in a hard tone.
"Except that demon. That evil son of a bitch ain't getting any older than tonight. You understand me?" Dean adds firmly, determination in his voice. Tension thick in the air. Sam and Y/N nod as they look back at the house.
Back in Lincoln. John appears behind Meg. She turns her head when she hears his footsteps. "John. You made it" She smiles darkly. "Too bad really. I was hoping to kill more of your friends" She smirks, her tone menacing. "Sorry to disappoint" John responds in a dry tone. "I can see where your boys get their good looks" Meg says in a flirtatious voice.
"Though I must admit, considering what they say about you, I thought you'd be taller." She mocks. John just stares at her, not answering. "Well, aren't you the chatty one" She says sarcastically. "Shame I never got to meet F/N, I'm sure he was just as yummy" Meg chuckles darkly hoping to take a bite at his grief, John narrows his eyes at her angrily. "You keep his name out of your filthy mouth" He growls angrily.
"There's the Winchester in you. You sound like Dean" She snaps back laughing. "You wanna get to business" She says, walking closer to him. "Fine. Why don't you hand over the gun" She puts her hand out for it. "If I give you the gun. How do I get out of here?" John says plainly. "Well if you're as good as they say you are, I'm sure you'll figure something out" Meh smirks. "Maybe I'll just shoot you" John says dryly.
"You wanna shoot me, baby? Go ahead, it won't end anything" Meg responds in a coy tone. "There's more where I came from." She says firmly. A man approaches from the dark behind her, "Who the hells that?" John asks. "He's not nearly as much fun as I am, I can tell you that. So I suggest you give us the gun" She smirks, demanding the Colt.
John smirks, looking at the man and back to Meg. "Now!" Meg demands, getting irritated she raises her voice. Putting her hand out. John hands her the gun, she examines it a bit and then turns back to John. "This is the Colt?" She cocks her eyebrow. John nods in confirmation. She hands it to her friend, "What do you think?" She asks him.
The man takes it, then looks back at John with a blank stare. He cocks it and in a swift motion. He aims it at Meg and shoots her. John begins to internally panic as she gasps in shock and pain. "You shot me!" She yells. "I can't believe you just shot me!" Meg further screams. "It's a fake!" The man yells before tossing the gun aside. Identifying it as a fake.
They glare at John who looks between the two of them nervously, both demons moving menacingly closer to him. "You're dead, John. Your boys and y/n are dead" Meg grits her teeth angrily. "I've never used the gun. How could I have known it wouldn't work" John lies fluidly. "I'm so not in the mood for this. I've just been shot!" Meg bellows.
"Well, then I guess you're lucky the hun wasn't real" John snaps back. Meg chuckles darkly, "That's funny, John. We're gonna strip the skin from your bones, but that was funny" She smirks, walking closer as John backs up. That's when steam starts hissing from the outside, drawing Megs attention away from John. He then makes a break for it, locking a door behind him.
He jumps down from the side he crept up to the warehouse, running down the hall. John then turns on a pipe that's attached to the tank he throw the amulet in. The water spraying, coating the floor as it runs down the drainage. Meg and the man look at each other while John has a smirk on his face. The man then steps onto the water, only for the water to burn through his shoes. He groans painfully, falling back toward Meg.
They look at John in shock. "Holy water, John. Real cute" Meg snarks. John's smile widens, strolling away from the two demons who're stuck.
________________________________
Back in Iowa, Dean tries calling his father. Huffing when he doesn't pick it, "Dads not answering" Dean huffs, flipping the phone shut. They look back at the window of Monica's house, "Maybe Meg was late. Maybe the cell receptions bad" Sam suggests. "Yeah, well..." Dean sighs, shaking his head.
The radio then begins to ring a static like noise, this makes Y/N's head snap towards it. "Fellas, wait..." She says, turning the radio up. They look curiously, "Listen" She whispers, raising it louder. The wind outside begins to accelerate as the radio booms a voice mutter, sounding almost like a man. The leaves outside blowing towards the house. The lights inside and outside of the house flickering.
They call share a terrified look, "It's coming" Sam gasps. They all immediately jump out of the Impala, running towards Monica's house.
Back in Lincoln. John finally reaches his van, stopping in his tracks when he sees the tires have been slashed. "Damn it!" He huffs. Checking his phone, only to have no cell reception. "You gotta be kidding me!" He groans in frustration, running out into the street.
Back in Iowa. Dean opens the door to Monica house after Y/N quickly picked the lock. The quietly enter as Dean closes the door behind him. They slowly walk in but then, "Get out of my house!!" Monica's husband screams, swinging a bat at Dean, who quickly dodges, making the bat swing against a lamp, smashing it into pieces.
Dean grabs the bat and slams the man into the wall. "No! Please! Please!" Sam and Y/N plead with him to listen. "Be quiet and listen to me. We're trying to help you" Dean tries to explain to the man, having him up against the wall with the bat to his neck. "Charlie?!" Monica calls out for her husband from upstairs.
"Okay?" Dean pleads as Charlie breathes heavily. "Everything okay down there?!" Monica asks from upstairs. "Monica, get the baby!" Charlie screams to warn Monica. "No!" Y/N yells. "Don't go in the nursery!" Sam screams. "You stay away from her!" Charlie screams trying to push Dean off but he punches him, knocking Charlie out instantly.
Sam and Y/N made a break for the stairs as Monica opens the nursery door to see a strange man leaning over Rosie's crib. "What are you—?" She gasps terrified, only to be slammed against the wall by a force and slid up the wall onto the ceiling. They run into the room, Y/N with the Colt in her hands.
"Rosie!" Monica screams tearfullly for her daughter. Sam and Y/N are now toe to toe with the demon who turns to them, glowing his yellow eyes. They're terrified but Y/N raises the Colt and shoots instantly, only to miss because the demon had disappeared in a ball of smoke. Monica screams when she falls from the wall infront of Sam and Y/N.
"Where the hell did he go?!" Sam yells shocked. "My baby!" Monica screams, "No, hey. Wait!" Sam and Y/N try to stop her from going over to Rosie's crib. "No!! My baby!!" Monica's cries. Dean emerges through the door, "Get her out of here. I got it. Take her and go!" Dean orders them loudly. They drag Monica out of the room as Dean wraps Rosie up.
After taking her out of the crib and running back downstairs, the crib almost immediately bursts into flames. "Deans got her!" Y/N assures her.
Meanwhile, back in Lincoln. John runs around the side of the building to get some cell reception. He pulls out his phone and begins dialing. Only to be thrown into the wall by a sudden force. "Aah!!" He grunts in pain, groaning from the force crushing him. The man from earlier with Meg, emerges from the dark as the force drags him up the wall. John grunts in pain as the man walks closer to him. A dark smirk on his face.
Back in Iowa. They all run downstairs, Dean with Rosie in his hands. The house in flames. All coughing from the smoke. "You get away from my family!" Charlie, who was outside, yelled at the three hunters, going to attack them.
"No, Charlie, don't. They saved us!" Monica stops him from attacking. "I mean, they saved us" She chokes a sob, putting out her hands so Dean could hand her Rosie. She takes her baby crying, going over to her husband. "Thank you" She thanks them tearfully. They look on at the house, Y/N's eyes widen when the the figure of a man appears in the nursery window that's in flames.
"It's still in there" She growls, ready to run back in but Sam and Dean stop her, holding her back. "Y/N. Y/N! No!" Sam yells as they hold her back to push her towards the Impala. "Sam! Dean! Let me go, it's still in there!!!" She screams, trying to break out of their holds. "Its burning to the ground! It's suicide!!" Dean shouts. "I don't care!" She screams.
"Well I do!" He bellows, her heart dropping. Y/N calms down a bit as Sam and Dean turn back to the house. Their eyes landing in the shadow of the man, it then disappears in the fire. Y/N clenches her jaw angrily as they look on at the house engulfed in flames, burning to the ground.
________________________________
Now back at their motel room, Dean is trying to get a hold onto John. "Come on, Dad. Answer your phone, damn it!" Dean grumbles exasperated as Sam sits on the bed fuming, his head buried in his hands while Y/N sits on the window still, her face blank as she stares out the window. Her jaw clenching. Dean hangs up the phone after not getting onto John.
"Something's wrong" He says to Sam and Y/N. Sam nor Y/N answer, he looks up from his phone turns to them. "You two hear me? Something's happened" Dean states again. "If you had just let me go in there...I could have ended all this" Y/N's tone is low, shaking her head is frustration as she takes a drag from her cigarette.
Dean moves closer to her, his face contorted with disbelief just like Sam's. "Y/N, the only thing you were gonna end was your life" Sam scoffs. Y/N's gaze snaps to him, "You don't know that" She says firmly, blowing out the smoke. "So, what, you're just willing to sacrifice yourself, is that it?" Dean says irritated.
Her eyes wide with determination, she gets up from the window still, walking up to Dean. "Yeah. Yeah. You're damn right I am" She says firmly. Dean is stunned by this, "Yeah well that's not gonna happen. Not as long as we're around" Sam responds in the same tone. "What the hell are you two talking about? We've been searching for this demon our whole lives! It's the only thing we've ever cared about!" She argues, pacing the room.
"Y/N, I wanna waste it. I do. Okay? But it's not worth dying over!" Dean further argues. "What?" She says in disbelief looking over at Sam. "I mean it. If hunting this demon means you getting yourself killed, then I hope we never find the damn thing!" He adds angrily, his heart pumping out of his chest.
"That thing killed Sam's girlfriend. It killed my mom and yours. It's the reason my dad is dead!" Y/N defends. "Y/N....please" Sam says softly, pleading with her. "We'll get it" He assures her, tears in his eyes. She huffs, taking a drag of her cigarette. "Look, Sam said once and you agreed. That no matter what we do, they're gone. And they're never coming back" Dean tries to reason with her.
Her eyes widen with anger, a laugh rolling out of her tongue. She chuckles humorlessly, strolling back over to the window as the boys look at her in confusion. She takes a drag of her cigarette again before crushing it in the ashtray. She turns back to Dean, her shoulder shaking as she laughs, tears still in her eyes. A look on her face that they've never seen before and to be quite frank, it scared them.
"You son of a bitch" She chuckles dryly. Her face then contorting into anger before swiftly grabbing him by his collar and slamming him into the wall roughly. "You don't say that! Not you!" She growls enraged. Sam shoots up from the bed but Dean puts his hand up, stopping him. Indicting he's fine. "Not after all this. Don't you say that!" She breathes heavily, her entire body shaking from the rage and grief.
"Princess, look...I am so sorry about your father. I really am" Dean says sincerely, his tone breaking, still up against the wall. Tears well up in y/n's eyes again. "But the four of us....that's all we have" Dean voice wavers. "That's all I have" He adds, tears welling up in his eyes also as Y/N grips his collar tightly, shaking her head angrily.
"Sometimes I feel like I'm barely holding it together, babe" He admits tearfully. This makes her feel terribly guilty. She huffs, tears falling down her cheeks. Her heart aching as she shakes her head. Her grip loosens on his collar. "Without you, Sam or Dad. I..." Dean stops when she fixes his collar back, patting his chest, "Fuck. I'm so selfish" She wipes her tears, walks back to grab her phone.
"John...he should've called by now. Try him again" She sniffles, trying to calm herself down. She hands Dean her phone, he takes it and dials Johns number. Y/N sinks in the bed next to Sam as Dean puts the phone to his ear, "You kids really screwed up this time" Meg answers smirking. Deans face drops, looking over to Sam and Y/N.
Y/N sat on the bed next to Sam, her head bowed as he rubs her back comfortingly. "Where is he?" Dean clenches his jaw. His tone makes Sam hand holt from rubbing Y/N's back, the two younger hunters looking up at him in concern. "You're never gonna see your father again..." Meg says menacingly. Both Sam and Y/N's face and heart drop when they see Deans fearful expression.
To Be Continued...
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Author's Note: AHHHHHHHH!! One more episode and we're ready for Season 2 babbbyyyyy. I must say, I am kind of sad that this season has almost come to an end but I'm also excited to roll into another chapter of this series. I can't believe I actually made it through, I swore I was going to lose motivation but the wonderful comment and love I've been receiving means the world to me🥹I appreciate every bit of love and I send it back to you time a million!!❤️Just a reminder, this chapter is unedited.
Taglist: @hjgdhghoe @rach5ive @tiggytaylor
Xoxo
#dean winchester#sam winchester#supernatural#spn#dean and sam#dean winchester fanfiction#sam and dean#dean winchester x reader#dean x reader#dean winchester x you#supernatural reader insert#supernatural fandom#eventual smut#supernatural tv show#supernatural fanfiction#the winchester brothers#ao3 writer#supernatural series rewrite#eventual romance#eventual relationship#series rewrite#dean winchester x female!reader#x reader
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my guilty pleasure is sasusaku but like- the absolute worst parts of them together. i think they’re a ship capable of bringing out the worst of eachother, but in a very hateful toxic way (not like the Disaster Man/sakura ships where she gets to feel Seen). what’s your opinion on them?
Send me a ship and I’ll give you my (brutally) honest opinion on it
I'm.... mostly neutral on fanon SasuSaku. In Part 1, he's shown to actively care about her and appreciate her contributions to the team. I used to read this ship sometimes back when we were in Filler Hell and Shippuden hadn't come out, and I liked to see Sakura ~getting the guy.~ So I can see why someone might be attracted to this ship, and I can see a lot of ways to develop them as a fun pair. That being said, the way their relationship played out in canon seems so shitty to Sakura that I'm baffled that a lot of fans seem to like it. I don't, like, hate it because I do like Sarada and so I'm fine with reading/writing Sasuke and Sakura as a married couple...... but seriously? Seriously?
I have a very hard time conceptualizing Sasuke as a person who does ~romance~, and romance is obviously what Sakura wants out of their relationship. I don't think Sakura necessarily needs a generic romance to be happy, but she's built up her Sasuke-themed fantasies so much that.... yeah, she needs dates that last longer than 30 seconds or whatever they said happened on their canonical first date. Meanwhile, Sasuke was obviously struggling with a lot of internal demons and he needed to either be into accepting support from someone or not start a relationship, wtf.
If I could make some minor tweaks to canon to make this ship make more sense, here's what I would do: 1) Nix Sasuke knocking Sakura out with genjutsu during the war arc. WTF was that? Have more panels of him reacting positively to her instead. 2) Have Sasuke be the one to ask Sakura to travel with him, not her asking him and being denied. She doesn't have to say yes, but him making the gesture is so much more powerful than her asking and him being like "next time!!" 3) Instead of leaving her with a baby, let Sasuke raise his kid for a few years. You can him leave them for long enough Sarada doesn't have many memories of him if you really want to keep the familial drama, but have him be involved in raising her, jfc. I know Sarada has a flashback of him holding her hand when she's a toddler, but other than that, it's pretty strongly implied that Sasuke just.... wasn't around? What??
All that being said, I am pretty fond of Sakura and Sasuke as close friends. So I think if I was forced to write them as a couple, it would be pretty "married my friend for tax benefits" in vibes. That or Sasuke having the abrupt and sweaty realization that Sakura's biceps are VERY attractive.
#ask meme answer#i hc sasuke as aro pretty strongly but i can see him marrying for the 'restart my clan' thing#so i can see him being like 'well sakura is a person i trust and like well enough to raise a family with'#but in order to NOT be shitty to sakura he can't just be like '....and she'll agree because she's in love with me!' and fuck off#he has to be cognizant of her feelings and be willing to work with her so she gets what she needs out of the relationship#i think it's totally possible to have a firm partnership with someone where one side is IN love and the other side is just platonic love#but there has to be communication! compassion! date nights!!!#also on sakura's side she can just sitting around pining for sasuke to fall in love with her#she has to take him as he is (but also she's allowed to say 'hey i need this out of you to make MARRIAGE work')
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✎ sick days
- gojo satoru x reader
who holds the fort when you fall sick? of course, it's your lovesick husband and baby!
genre:
fluff, fluff, fluffff. basically, your baby is adorable, gojo is your husband and not only is he lovesick with you, he humors your baby so much it’s making me— sighs
note:
based on this post! hi hi chu is back from vacation and here’s another dad!gojo fluff indulgence and we stan domestic men okay🤭
a part of gojo's love entries
series masterlist | oneshot masterlist
It's plain sight that Gojo Satoru is a highly attractive individual, and now that he has a son, it's fair to say that he’s the hottest dilf on the block.
With one hand twirling a famous brand of flu medicine box and the other propping his baby son at his hip, he garnered curious eyes, even in drugstore near his home.
“Hmm, why is it so cheap? Suspicious…”
Satoru let out a light hum, studying the orange and pink boxes, as well as glancing at the other purple box with bold labels claiming its effectiveness in halting cold symptoms, and then looked at his son.
His baby's big, crystal blue eyes blinked in wonder at the vibrant colors, and he reached out with grubby hands towards them. “Bwah!”
Suddenly, he got an idea.
“Hey, kiddo. Which do you think is better for mama?” he asked the baby, gesturing at the all three medicine on the rack with his jaw. “You choose.”
As if on cue, the little ball of fluff that was his son immediately reached out for the purple box, the more expensive out of all three displayed before him. Without missing a beat, he also seized both the orange and pink boxes in quick succession, holding them close to his chest.
Satoru broke into a hearty laugh, a wide grin split his face, as he affectionately tousled the boy's head with pride.
“That's my boy! Splurging is allowed—after all, we're rich!”
When the first signs of cold manifested in you, Satoru was already worried. He had warned you to take more rest, but typical you, you brushed it off as a mere fatigue.
And when this morning, you woke up to sudden coughing fits and hot-and-cold spells, which ended up with kicking him out of your shared bedroom in fear of spreading the virus, like the doting husband he was, Satoru promptly headed to the pharmacy with your baby in tow to get you some help.
"Oh my, sir, your son is so adorable!" the female cashier gushed when he got over to pay, finally voicing what other customers thought in their heads. He could sense the discreet glances from those around him even now.
As the baby clung to his shirt, Satoru tightened his grip on him and responded with a self-assured grin, ensuring those nearby heard his words, "Of course he is! My wife is pretty as heck too, shame she's down with fever today."
"Aww! Such high praise, you must adore your wife!"
"Mm-hmm!"
Ah, so he still has a wife. The other customers went about their day, some disappointed that the dilf was still evidently devoted to his wife. They could only wonder just who could the lucky woman was.
Moving on— after the short trip to the drugstore, Satoru went back home. He promptly checked on you in your master bedroom, inquiring, "Hey, how are—"
But he immediately halted upon seeing you nestled so comfortably under the blankets, sleeping soundly. For a moment, he simply stood, blinking and observing your serene slumber.
Strange that something inside him both softened and lurched at the sight. You were just that precious in his eyes. Stupid as it was, he was quite miserable to go through the day without your nagging and nitpicking. And above all, he never liked seeing you in any kind of discomfort—it made his protective instincts soar.
Hence his thought— there is nothing I wouldn’t do for you, even if it means sacrificing heaven itself.
“Myah!” A hard shove on his arm and his baby’s babbling snapped him out of his trance. Satoru shifted his baby to his other hand, let out a questioning hum, and affectionately pinched his mochi-like cheeks.
“Hmm? You can’t be hungry, I—oooh,” a sheepish expression of realization appeared on his face, his blue eyes widened slightly as his baby glared at him. Then, chuckling like the goofball he was, Satoru patted him on his head to appease his grudge, “I haven’t fed you since this morning, eh?”
“Fwah!”
“Pfft! There, there… Me is sorry~ Now let me whip something up for you and mama, yeah?”
Now, he wouldn't claim to be the best chef, but he could certainly cook to save himself. Rolling up his sleeve, he went to the kitchen after leaving and stuffing his baby boy with a pacifier on his high chair.
“Hmmm, baby food for the minion and… congee? Yeah, congee should be good.”
Next task was feeding his already seething baby after he mixed together his baby food. He was a fussy eater—mostly with him, but surprisingly not so much with you (apparently, that's just his way of showing who he favors between his parents, heh). But when he managed to get the food in, with every spoonful, his son’s smile gradually widened, and so did his happiness.
Satoru thought then that he was the cutest thing he had ever created. His son was clearly a mini-him, but his reactions were definitely so you.
“Is it tasty? It is, isn’t it?” he cooed with baby voice, earning a delightful giggle in response from his son. Pushing his luck, he added with a suggestive grin, “Papa is the best, isn’t he?”
“Bwah...” The joyful expression on his baby's face faded instantly, dissolving into an unamused pout, prompting Satoru to righteously click his tongue.
“Why are you so against me?!”
After he was done with his fill, Satoru picked your baby up to the master bedroom to bring you something to eat. Seated on the opposite edge of the bed, he silently adored your sleeping form once again.
Right at that moment, the baby in his arms wriggled, reaching out for you. Acting on a sudden impulse, he put him on the bed, facing you.
“Now, go to mama, would you?” he whispered gently, grinning and giving his bum a light pat. “Go!”
Your son was also Gojo Satoru’s son, therefore he was an adept crawler even at barely seven months old. With remarkable agility, the little soldier steadily moved towards you, his diapers jiggling with each motion. He stopped right in front of your face, clearly recognizing you as his mother.
And your husband swore that even his logic-driven heart melted at the sight of your cute baby suddenly leaned in and clumsily smooched your nose.
Simply just the two most treasured loves of his life.
“Mm?” you let out a soft grunt, feeling the dryness in your throat as you cracked your eyes open, surprised to find yourself face-to-face with your baby. “Oh… why are you here? Don’t get too close…”
“He’ll be fine.” Satoru picked your son up, placing him on his knee and steadying him with one arm. Having moved next to you on the bed, he brushed hair from your forehead. “What about you, hmm? Feeling better?”
Your eyebrows creased into a frown. “Yeah, I think, but more than that, Satoru, I’ve told you, don’t let him—”
“Yes, yes, sweetheart. He won’t get sick, look, he’s as healthy as he can be~” and to make a point, he turned his baby over and lightly smacked his bottom, prompting a whimper from the little one and a gasp from you.
“Don’t spank him!”
“Ehh? Then can I spank you instead?”
“Satoru, you’re a little piece of—!”
Just you and him, as well as the little treasure that was your son. This little family was enough reason to live. To win.
And Gojo Satoru once again thought, that being the strongest didn’t really mean that much anymore because with his world in his hands, nothing else matters.
Epilogue
“You’re so silly, why did you buy so many?” you grumbled at the sight of three different brands of cold medicine your husband displayed in front of you. “One is enough, do you want me to overdose?”
Satoru snickered. “Don’t blame me, blame your kid. He’s the one picking all of them.”
You totally didn’t get what he meant at all, but yeah, your husband was the silliest human ever and that’s that.
“Hey, don’t you think it’s a bit smelly here?” Satoru suddenly asked, wearing a quizzical expression.
You took a sniff of the air, glancing at your baby blinking innocently and sitting calmly on your husband, and a realization struck you. “Uh, Satoru...”
Following your gaze, as if sensing an omen, Satoru hastily scooped up his son, letting out a bewildered gasp as he felt a slight wetness where the baby had been sitting on him.
“Did he just poo on me?!”
#𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑠#gojo satoru x reader#gojo x reader#jjk drabbles#jujutsu kaisen#jjk x reader#jjk imagines#satoru gojo x reader#jjk x you#jjk fanfic#jujutsu kaisen imagines#jujutsu kaisen x reader#gojo satoru#jujutsu kaisen x you#jujutsu kaisen fanfic#gojo x you#gojo#gojo fluff#gojo satoru imagines#jjk fluff#gojo satoru fluff#dad!gojo#satoru gojo fluff#jjk gojo satoru#jujutsu kaisen fluff#jutusu kaisen x reader#satoru x reader#satoru gojo x you#satoru gojo
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Eden
Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader
Summary: Seeing you with other Bridgerton offspring has an interesting effect on your new husband...
I couldn't resist using a Season 3 gif cos hello.
Warnings: 18+ smut, minors DNI, breeding kink, dirty talk, mutual masturbation, vaginal sex, creampie, ie filthy babymaking. Also, the smut is bookended by fluff; yeah, that probably needs a warning, lol.
Word Count: 4.2k
Authors Note: This is a very belated request fill for @victoriaholland (HERE) and Anon (HERE) about Benedict with a touch of baby fever. I decided to combine the asks as I saw a way to weave them together. Sorry for the delay, but well at least babymaking seems appropriate for spring hehe. Thank you to @colettebronte for being an awesome beta, as always. Err, Enjoy! <3
Daphne’s latest child is beautiful; you delight in his joy as he bounces on your lap, learning the strength of his sweetly chubby legs, little fists wrapped tight around your fingers.
Looking up, you catch your husband's eye from afar, his stare intense across the gardens of Bridgerton House as you sit under a tented shelter upon a picnic blanket. The rest of the family are scattered around, playing games or chatting, but you are quite content minding the little one while his nanny takes a few moments to eat lunch.
“Is everything alright, my love?” You inquire as Benedict draws closer.
“Yes… I….” He seems a little flustered.
“Are you sure?”
You pull a funny face for the infant, who breaks out into the most adorable infectious giggles that has you grinning from ear to ear and hugging him into your body, swaying with him.
“Are you alright? Minding the child?” He checks, his voice a touch odd.
“Oh yes. We are more than happy, are we not, my little prince?” You talk in a vaguely silly baby-talk voice, addressing the child in your arms as much as Benedict.
Again, the child peals with delighted noises and spit bubbles enthusiastically, looking up at Benedict eagerly as much as you do.
“Well, that is wonderful news,” he blusters, and you could swear he is out of sorts, breathless almost. “I shall… leave you to it,” he adds, giving you a bow and then withdrawing as the little one wiggles out of your arms.
“Ignore your Uncle Benedict; he is being a silly billy,” you whisper conspiratorially once the man in question is out of earshot.
The response is babbled nonsense as the child bashes one wooden brick against another.
“I quite agree,” you state sagely before breaking into a goofy grin.
——
“Please?” Hyacinth wheedles.
“No, Hy,” you sigh without even looking up.
“Ugh, you are no fun!” she scowls, crossing her arms defiantly.
“What is all this?” Anthony clips as he strides into the drawing room, Benedict on his heels, as Hyacinth flounces dramatically across the room.
“Your little sister is angry at me because I will not allow her to drink the punch; it has brandy in it,” you explain cooly.
“Quite right, too!” Anthony chimes as Hyacinth rolls her eyes.
“Listen to y/n, Hyacinth, and do as she says,” Anthony lectures, and you feel grateful for his support, effectively neutering her rebellion. “Despite a temporary lapse of judgment when choosing a spouse, she is otherwise one of the most sensible people in this family.”
“Hey…!” Benedict protests.
“Please…” Anthony withers, twisting towards him. “Brother, if there is one thing us Bridgerton men know how to do, ‘tis to marry a woman entirely too good for us. And well done on that, by the way.”
You smirk at Anthony’s hilarious way of putting his brother - your husband - in his place, catching Kate’s eye with a wink as she enters the room carrying her baby.
“Y/n, come and meet the future Viscount; he’s awake at last,” she calls to you.
You are immediately on your feet and grinning, taking the tiny bundle from her arms and cooing at the sweet little boy. The baby opens his enormous brown eyes and observes you for a second before breaking into a one-toothed grin and happily waving his fists at you.
“Oh, he really likes you!” Kate enthuses, delighted.
“As I do you, little one,” you smile, leaning over to kiss his forehead.
You look up to see Benedict with that same look on his face as earlier. A tempest, almost an energy over his being. It’s almost as if he is… aroused?! Which is most odd.
As you hand the baby back to Kate, giving him one final kiss, Benedict is suddenly by your side. Announcing to the family that there has been a change of plan and, regrettably, you will not be able to stay for dinner, his arm an insistent tug around your waist.
——
“Why did we not stay for family dinner as originally planned, my love?”
Your question is soft, only just audible over the noise of the carriage as you trundle over the cobbled streets of Mayfair a few minutes later.
“I decided that we should perhaps dine at ours this evening…” his voice adopting that deeper edge which always causes butterflies in your tummy. His hand lands on your knee, a heavy weight that feels portentous. He slides closer on the bench seat.
“Why might that be?” your ask turns breathy, entirely without you meaning it to.
“I want to be alone with you,” he murmurs, unmistakably pitched to arouse.
The carriage seems to notch up a few degrees as the rocking motion presses your side rhythmically into his. The sound of the wheels and hooves is so loud. He twists to wrap an arm around your shoulder and pulls your back against his flank.
“All day today, I have watched you,” he rumbles, hand warming the skin around your clavicle, fingertip brushing in circles. “You are so very good with children, darling. Seeing you so naturally with the babies and how you handled Hyacinth… you would be the perfect mother.”
You blush a little at his praise. “Thank you, my love. I would like children one day. Your children. Imagine a child with your eyes. They would be quite the most beautiful,” you sigh wistfully, leaning back into him, his hand feeling heavier on your skin.
Benedict chuckles modestly. “And what of your beauty? Would a child version of you not be the most fetching?”
You giggle and turn your head sideways to nuzzle against his jaw. “I think we would indeed make beautiful babies together, Benedict.”
“I agree,” his voice a tempting lilt, fingers skating downwards over the swell of your breast now, slipping inside the fabric and making you gasp as he tweaks your nipple. “And I think we should start as soon as we get home.”
“Did seeing me with babies suddenly make you want your own, Mr Bridgerton?” Your hand flexes on his knee as he toys with your breast.
“Oh yes darling, it made me want to take you right there…” he asserts, finally admitting those looks he gave you were indeed pure arousal.
You reach up and run your hand into his hair, fingers flexing on his warm scalp as you pull his face to yours. “And suddenly, it appears I am no longer hungry for dinner…” you whisper flirtatiously, your cupid's bow brushing his stubbled upper lip.
He groans, and his passionate kiss is plundering, a tingle running over your limbs, just as your carriage comes to a shuddering stop outside your townhome.
Uncaring of the neighbourhood or any prying eyes, Benedict sweeps you out of the carriage in his arms, carrying you bridal style over the pavement and through your front door.
“My wife and I are not to be disturbed,” he announces crisply and loudly to the staff as you enter the hallway.
Leaving no room for doubt about his plans by pulling you into a searing kiss for all to see before ascending the stairs rapidly. He practically growls as he kicks open the door to your master bedroom door and slams it shut again with his foot.
“Benedict…” you stammer, heart pounding at how overwrought he is.
You have never seen him like this. Commanding, crackling with an energy that has your body simmering. He is usually so sweet, affable, and kind. Every time you have been intimate since your wedding night a few weeks ago, he has been a complete gentleman: loving and so very tender. The grip he has had on you tonight feels different. This is something primal—like a switch has been flipped at a basal level in his being.
He places you down onto your feet before the roaring fire, his face intense.
“Wife…” The way he says it makes you feel a flush creep over your skin.
“Husband…” you respond in kind, belly fluttering with excitement.
“Take off your dress,” he orders, his dilated pupils shining in the firelight.
This is new. Usually, he is the one to remove it slowly and softly from your body.
“I cannot, the buttons…” you confess, signalling behind you. You would need your ladies' maid to unhook them from between your shoulder blades.
He moves closer, seeming so much taller; his ragged breaths dance in the tendrils of your hair as he reaches around behind your shoulders. With a rough tug that makes you startle, he tears the fabric asunder, the sound of tiny pearl buttons skittering across the polished wooden floor behind you as you gasp in surprise.
“There…” he smirks dangerously, “problem resolved.”
You are speechless as he withdraws a pace, looking at you expectantly. You follow his order, a slight quake in your hands as you push the frayed dress down your body, still a little shocked by his strength. Then you reach for the crisscross lacing of your stays, feeling the weight of his stare as each loop relents, his eyes hungry, his body heaving with deep breaths his fitted jacket taut with each inhale. You peel the item away, leaving just your thin white cotton chemise.
“Rip it too,” you plead before you realise it, enthralled by this assertive demeanour.
With a noise in the back of his throat, he takes a pace forward again, and you stare up at him, enchanted. He grasps the fabric above your breasts and then rips it loudly from your chest all the way to your ankles, the sound echoing up the walls. Again, his strength has your knees weak. As the torn pieces flutter from your body, you want to bathe in the hungry sound he makes as he realises you are clad only in white knee-high silk stockings, no underwear to be seen, the warmth from the fireplace swirling around your intimate area.
As you stand almost naked before your imposing husband, him still fully dressed, there is a knot low in your gut. But it’s not fear; it’s something else entirely—desire. Trembling, breathless and wanting. An elemental wish to be thoroughly taken.
He steps forward, eyes glittering, and his fingers plough roughly between your legs, making you gasp.
“Eden,” he proclaims, his fingers snagging over your swollen pearl of a clit with almost rough strokes, the callous where he holds his paintbrush abrading your folds. “A wonderful, lush, wet garden. Just waiting to be planted.” His words are hypnotic and low, questing fingers being coated with a dewiness that is entirely of his making.
“Please…” you whimper, squirming on his touch, captivated by this version of your husband, wanting to submit to him, a burning need low in your belly. His fingers slide faster, making a lewd, wet noise.
“Are you going to let me?” Benedict croons. “Plant my seed inside you?”
Until now, he has always been careful to complete outside your body. A slightly bereft feeling every time - the wonderful moment cut short as he leaves you suddenly empty, a warm splash upon your thighs, tummy or spine. The idea he will stay inside you is alluring in a way you don’t fully comprehend.
“Yes, please, husband,” your nipples puckering almost painfully against the wool of his lapels as he crowds into you.
“Good. Get on that bed right now,” Benedict orders roughly, pointing at your four-poster bed as he tugs off his jacket.
You scramble to obey. Feeling under a spell. Being naked save your stockings feels illicit as you lay back into the soft pillows and watch as he undresses, staring you down the whole time.
You slide a hand between your legs instinctively as more of his toned body is revealed. He growls at the sight, you biting your lip and watching him, his torso bare, his trousers clinging to his shapely legs, to his swollen cock. He bends to remove his shoes, and the sight of his broad shoulders flexing is enough to make you moan. As he stands back up and hooks his elegant fingers around the trouser buttons, a smug look on his handsome face that he is doing this to you.
“Husband…” you call out to him, writhing on your fingers shamelessly now, one hand shooting up to brace your movements against the headboard, flushing warm down to your toes.
With a few dextrous flicks, the buttons relent, and his trousers drop to the floor. His naked body is always a delicious sight, but tonight feels more, every sense heightened, moaning again as he takes a step towards you, thigh muscles flexing, his cock standing proud to attention.
Again, a soft plea falls from your lips, your eyes raking every plain of his tempting form, feeling yourself swell under your fingertips.
“Not yet,” he clucks, the arrogance somehow more beguiling as you bite your lip. “I think I want to watch you come, my darling. All by yourself. I hear female pleasure can aid with conception after all.”
“Will you not touch me?” you petition, reaching your other hand imploringly towards him.
“No darling, I shall watch,” his lopsided grin deadly.
He wraps a strong fist around his own cock, pumping slowly, a bead of moisture gathering at his tip, glistening in the candlelight as he does.
“Now, use both hands, please. Place your fingers inside yourself,” Benedict instructs as you blindly follow, a languid buzz in your brain—you would do anything he told you to right now.
Planting your feet squarely on the bed, you drag your ankles up higher towards your bottom, letting your legs fall open wider to give him a better view as your other hand slides down. You plunge two fingers into yourself, your hips canting off the mattress with a staccato breath at the sensation of yourself, so hot and tight.
“That's right,” he endorses, a leisurely movement of his hand up and down his cock as he watches you from a few feet away. “‘Feel yourself, darling. Tis paradise, is it not?” that trademark rumbling voice skittering over your skin, goosebumps raising down your arms just at the tone.
“Come closer,” you appeal breathily, wanting to smell him, feel his heat, his flesh—anything.
He shakes his head, smirking wider as his refusal spurs you on, desperate to come. Mewling as your fingers speed up, one circling your clit, the others buried as far as you can, wishing instead it were his long, graceful fingers reaching places you are unable. Watching him squeeze his own cock hurtles you fast, already aroused from the moment he slid a hand into your dress in the carriage.
Unable to fight the tide in your body, you screw your eyes shut and call out his name as your pussy starts to convulse around your own fingers, toes curling into the sheet, your muscles all going stiff, your hips again raised as you feel the tide break. A gush of wetness runs down your palm and your bottom cheeks as your mind floats away. Distantly, you can hear him speaking, but it’s fuzzy as you flop back down, sated, your legs going flat, too shaky to balance.
You startle as a warm hand circles the wrist of your fingers still inside yourself, bringing you abruptly back into the room. Benedict looms over you, his chest heaving, that power still there.
“What was that?” your query drowsy, lips dry.
He chuckles richly. “I said that was spectacular,” he repeats, bemused. “But also that I want you to paint your nipples with your arousal, my love, for me,” he commands, tugging your hand so your fingers slide out of yourself.
You do as bidden, still floating down from the high, smearing your own warm juices onto your puffed areolas.
“Perfect..” he intones.
In one swift, athletic move, he mounts the bed. You cry out as his warm mouth encloses your left nipple, groaning lewdly as he licks you clean of your arousal, his tongue a heavy, warm, wet weight curling around your sensitive bud, his lips tugging gently, reawakening those synapses only just recovering from your orgasm.
“Why do you always taste like heaven?” his dusky question is rhetorical, his breath gusting over your sternum as he swaps to your other breast to meter out the same treatment. He has you moving under him again as he settles his body over you more firmly, your hips tilting up to feel his hard cock graze your inner thigh. “I wonder if you will still taste like heaven when you are heavy with my child?” he hums thoughtfully as he teases your nipple with the tip of his nose, one hand cupping your empty belly. “I dare say even moreso, ripe like a vine, bearing fruit…” That sonorous voice teases over your skin as he moves slowly upwards to nuzzle your neck. “My fruit….” he adds, possessive as he sucks your earlobe into his mouth, so loud now right by your ear.
His hands wind around your thighs as he shuffles position so he is kneeling between your legs, his ropey thighs spread wide under yours…
“Are you ready for that, my love?” he pauses until you nod almost imperceptibly; you squeak as he suddenly hauls you down the bed, hips onto his lap, your pelvis now higher than your head upon the sheets. Your stockings unfurling down your legs where he quickly plucks at the ribbons holding them aloft.
“Good, because I am more than ready for you,” it almost sounds like a warning.
Then, with a solid thrust, he spears into your body, the invasion toe-curling, your fingers grasping his muscular forearms that are clamped around your waist. It is a primal position, and he begins to thrust with no mercy, his cock feeling huge and heavy, a strong weight that drags heavily over your walls as your pussy clings to him. Your eyes flutter closed as you whimper his name, powerless to do anything but take his thrusts, draped across his lap as you are.
“Look at me,” he demands raggedly. And you do, his handsome face contorted with effort as he slams into you, a little bead of sweat forming on his brow. “Look at me while I fuck a baby into you, wife.”
He’s never spoken to you like this before, clipped, harsh. It seems appropriate that he would be almost desperate in an act so elemental, so of the earth—to create life. Stoking a fire deep in your core that is a clarion call for him, a frisson running over your skin at the idea you are being impregnated. Bred.
You know neither of you will last long with this almost frenzied coupling, the tendrils of your arousal already swirling so soon after your last, his near-brutish handling precisely what you need, your swollen pearl slammed into his flat abdomen with every stroke he takes. The sheets roll under your shoulder blades as he keeps the same position, your hips high, a mounting that you cannot and do not want to escape, knowing he is leaving fingertip bruises around the dip of your waist, marks you will carry secretly with pride just for him.
You moan his name, so close again to that ephemeral bliss, thrashing your head from side to side as if willing the pleasure to break and wash over you.
“Come on, come for me, milk me, darling. Take what you need, take my seed,” his voice a deep wrecked purr, the lines of his body tense, craving release as much as you.
That command is what breaks the dam for you, an almost violent ricochet fanning out from where you clench around him, his cries muffled behind the rushing noise in your ears, every part of you convulsing in a pleasurable wave. And then, in a floating haze, for the very first time, you feel your husband come inside you, a warm bloom that coats your walls. It's an intoxicating feeling; you never want him to come anywhere else ever again.
“That's it, well done, my love,” he croons, eyes still shut as he shudders with little aftershocks, not leaving your body—as if he wants to stay inside you always.
——
As the embers in the fireplace glow white, you lay in post-coital bliss, bodies dewy from exertion. Benedict rests his head upon your stomach as you card your fingers leisurely through his hair.
“Do you believe we may have made a baby, darling?” he hums, pressing his ear to your belly button as if listening for a heartbeat.
“I am certain of it, husband; you were so very thorough with your attentions,” you assure as he takes your hand in his, lacing your fingers together. “I hope our baby has your face,” you opine.
“Even if it is a girl?!”
“Thou art as pretty as thou art handsome, Mr Bridgerton,” you quip.
He laughs, carefree, crawling behind you and pulling you into a spooned embrace. “Be careful with such provocation, wife; I may not be done with you after all,” he jests idly. “I, on the other hand, hope our child looks like you, even if it is a boy.” he posits, crowding into your back, his lips warm on the shell of your ear.
“Why?” you laugh, frowning, twisting to look back at him.
“So that I may love them as much as I do you,” he breezes nonchalantly as if what he says is not the sweetest thing you can imagine, causing a tart, sudden spike of want through your body, even as you lay sated.
“Be careful, husband,” you volley back, coquettish. “Or I may not yet be done with you.”
There is a sharp, approving intake of breath, and his hand slides low from your belly into the thatch of hair at the apex of your thighs.
“Is that a promise” he rumbles, your gasp loud as his fingers expertly drag against your clit.
“It is whatever you want. Just do not stop,” you rush out, your hand curling around his bicep, feeling a rigid mass slide hot against your bottom. “Again, husband,” you appeal breathily. “Impregnate me again.”
“With pleasure, wife,” he growls, surging into your body with a force that again steals the very breath from your lungs.
The pinkish light dawn is streaking over the ceiling above when you both finally succumb to sleep after many more vigorous attempts at babymaking. The last one, perhaps the most desperate, you pinned against the headboard, him fucking into you so hard from behind that a jagged crack appears, spidering up the wall from where the bedframe slammed into it. A flaw which he steadfastly refuses to get fixed, claiming it to be the most profound art—a souvenir and ode to a momentous night.
——
9 months later
Benedict’s lips mash against your sweaty brow as he keeps lauding you with praise, excitement and pride evident in his every word. You flop back onto the bed, exhaustion deep in your bones, your body turned inside out, hurting in a way you have never known.
But it was all worth it.
What feels like only moments later, in your shattered, addled state, the doctor and nurses depart. Your husband perches on the bed next to you, his face a picture of wonderment. Holding not just one but two bundles of joy in the crooks of his arms. One girl, one boy—fraternal twins.
“My love, we have created the most beautiful creatures on all of this earth,” he attests partisanly, his voice profound with emotion, his eyes pinging from one swaddled face to the other as they sleep soundly.
You shoot him a watery but ironic smile. “I suppose, dear husband, that is what happens when you spend a whole night impregnating me. You succeed twice over.”
His brow raises pointedly, his tongue shooting out to pass over his bottom lip. “Are you suggesting next time around, wife, we keep going for three days straight? So that I may have a brood of eight by the time we are done?” Deploying his bedroom voice that he knows full well makes your knees weak.
“Do not say such things in front of the children!” you chide, swatting his knee where it touches your thigh. “And no, I am not carrying six of your progeny at once; that is simply preposterous!”
“Four?” he petitions with a wink.
You roll your eyes affectionately, settling back into the mound of pillows. “A maximum of two at a time is my final offer, Benedict Bridgerton,” you respond drolly.
“Entirely reasonable,” he chuckles contentedly, dropping a kiss onto each of their foreheads before handing both to you so delicately, as if they are the most precious bundles in the world.
Which to you both, they are.
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more sunshine! gojo and grumpy!f reader pleaseeeeeeee I ship so hard
you got it baby
her rage keeps him going.
summary: gojo satoru is trying to get his grumpy girlfriend's attention by flirting with another girl at a party. wrong move.
pairing: sunshine!gojo satoru x grumpy!female reader
content warnings: jealousy, reader being a badass, gojo being madly in love, cursing, adult themes at the end, borderline toxic gojo satoru?
Masterlist
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"Baby."
"Baby."
"Baby."
"Sugarpie."
"Honeybunch-"
"Yes, Satoru?" You sigh, trying to finish the report you need to give Yaga. The frown deepens on your forehead as Satoru moves to sit in front of you, head leaning in, blocking your view of the paper completely.
"Sato-"
"Let's watch a movie." He blatantly says. "I'm bored."
You take a deep breath, pushing his head away. "I'm kind of in the middle of something, Toru."
Recently Yaga has been giving you more reports to fix. It's the kids' reports that are either too messy or filled with too many unnecessary details. It keeps on piling and piling and piling on top of your own work and you barely have time to do... anything, really.
And Satoru being Satoru, is not interested in paperwork. So you have to pick up his share as well, and it's sending you over the edge.
"Come on~" He whines, "It's been a while since you and I spend time together."
"We live under the same roof," You counter, "We go home and leave for work together every day."
He huffs, "It's not the same and you know it."
You sigh, promising him you'll watch something with him soon, but of course, you being busy, it gets forgotten. And it stays that way for a few days until the spring break party Jujutsu High decides to have.
You haven't properly talked to Satoru since then. You know he's upset that you've been so busy, but there's honestly not much you can do. You can only hope he understands and he'll be a bit more patient until things die down at work.
But of course, it doesn't happen that way.
You have to attend the spring break party just as Satoru is also required to. There aren't many people to begin with, but there are some new faces. New and pretty faces.
Stepping into the hall, you cringe at the sight. The higher ups are looking to create a new impression on the new students. It seems they want to look more approachable and 'trendy', seeing how the hard way didn't work so much with your and Satoru's generation.
It looks like a really bad frat party.
"What in the world..."
"Just drink." Shoko hands you a tequila shot while she downs one herself, "We've done more than enough these past few weeks, who cares what this party is about."
You drink the shot and cringe even more at the sharpness. "Oh God- this is horrible."
"It'll get the job done," Shoko chuckles, already downing her second shot.
Sighing, you scan the room to find Satoru. You figure with the spring break coming, you'll have more free time and you both can finally take a vacation together. As an apology for being so busy lately, you've bought tickets and you want to surprise him.
"Hey, have you seen Sato- Oh you've gotta be kidding me."
In your eyesight is Satoru talking very closely to a woman. She's not anyone you know, but from her body language, she's not anyone you want to know. Your eyes squint to assess the situation -- maybe you're overthinking this? Maybe she's just like Miwa, she just admires him- nope. That hand slowly trailing up and down Satoru's arm is not friendly at all.
And Satoru is allowing all of this?
"Shoko," You call her, "Let's go play darts."
"Uh-oh."
Satoru's doing it on purpose. He knows it will irritate you, and he knows technically he shouldn't be doing this, but you've been so busy lately and he's desperate for your attention.
Borderline toxic? Maybe, but again, he's desperate.
And it's not like he's interested in this girl who's talking to him about something she did the other day -- he can't even remember her name. But when he sees you shooting glares his way, a small smirk plays on his lips because he knows he's caught your eye.
He just didn't expect you to take it into such extreme measures.
One second you're sitting by the bar with Shoko, and suddenly there's a red dart that whooshed its way between Satoru and this girl. The dart is right in front of her eyes, almost scratching her nose.
"Oops," He hears the threat in your tone despite the smile on your face. "Looks like I missed my mark."
"By a mile..." Shoko mutters. The target board isn't even anywhere near where Satoru is standing.
You make your way to Satoru and the girl whose face has turned white. "I'll just take that-" you pull the red dart that's quite stuck in the wall, but not before sparing the girl a cold glare, "and if you'll excuse us, I'd like to have a little talk with my boyfriend here."
Satoru lets you drag him by the arm outside. To be completely honest, he's quite turned on. Seeing your possessiveness over him, your rage, your jealousy, he wants all of it.
"Are you done acting up- mmp!"
Satoru pulls you to him, his hand keeping your neck in place so he can kiss you properly while also not letting you escape. He forces his tongue into your mouth, taking your breath away completely.
"Satoru-"
He shushes you, lifting you from the ground to sit on the bench, your legs straddling his waist while still making out with you.
"I'm not done talking-" You finally push him away with a pant. "What's gotten into you?!"
You notice something poking your ass and you slap his shoulder, "Are you seriously getting turned on right now?!"
"Mm, baby," He tries to kiss you again, "You know I love it when you yell at me."
You scoff and grab his chin roughly. "So you did all of that just because you wanted some attention?"
Satoru gulps.
"Are you really that needy, Satoru? Hm?" You tilt your head, peeling his blindfold off. "I guess I have been neglecting you and your needy cock for a while, huh?"
He nods helplessly.
"I guess it is partially my fault for leaving you unattended for so long," Your hand travels down to grab his cock through his pants. "But just so we're clear, Satoru... don't ever pull that shit again, understand?"
He moans and nods his head again.
"Good." You peck his lips, "You're mine. And I don't let anyone just touch what's mine."
Satoru could come right then and there.
#gojo satoru x reader#gojo satoru#gojo x reader#satoru x you#satoru x reader#gojo angst#gojo fluff#gojo satoru x you#gojo x you#satoru angst#gojo satoru angst#gojo satoru fluff#gojo satoru jjk#gojo x female reader#gojo satoru x female reader
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eddie wakes up in a strange room. this was not particularly unusual for him, historically: he’d spent most of his twenties waking up in new and interesting places (including a handful of jail cells). but after eddie, the label, and the los angeles superior court system decided it would be best if he stopped drinking and doing blow, it stopped being such a regular occurrence.
so it’s almost alarming to him, now, to be blinking up at an unfamiliar cement ceiling with the raging bitch of all headaches and generally feeling like he got hit by a truck, got whiplash in a crash with the way his neck aches. he’d think he was hungover like all those times before except for how sharp the pain is, bright.
he worries, briefly, he’s relapsed, or someone’s slipped him something. but he remembers what him and the boys had been up to, before this, and he thinks it’d’ve been a strange night indeed if someone roofied a c-list (b-list if he’s feeling charitable) musician at a fucking frozen four game.
because yeah, eddie remembers: they’d been third row, watching the wisconsin ladies clean up and cheering for jeff’s kid sister like she was about to get olympic gold. (she probably would, someday. her and that mayfield girl who played defense were looking down the barrel at a 2026 run apparently.
eddie’s been to a handful of games over the years, when touring and recording allows them to go. he’s resolutely never been a sports guy but he’ll admit, when pressed, that live hockey is pretty dope. to say nothing, of course, of how jeff would probably murder them all in their sleep if they didn’t rep the red and white for lottie.
(and also — and this is between eddie and his god alright — but lottie’s coach? standing back there in his suit, hair styled and dialed, snapping his gum, yelling at the refs? kind of doing it for him, okay. worth the price of admission, even if the tickets weren’t free.)
when he thinks harder — which hurts too — the last thing he clearly remembers was someone from the beavers scoring, bringing their lead to 5-1, and a slapshot from the other team getting out over the boards and nearly taking out some lady’s popcorn. someone behind them in the seats said, “jesus they’re getting desperate, eh?”
then shit goes dark on him, not even a fade to black, but a full on smash cut, roll credits black, and the post-credits scene is where ever the fuck eddie is at the moment. it smells like human and cold and icy hot, so obviously, he thinks, he died and went to hell like all the church ladies said he would back in hawkins, or probably just a locker room. what the fuck?
he blinks at the ceiling, at an interesting water stain on the cement texturing. he’s in the middle of wondering where the rest of his band has gone if he’s here alone, fucking abandoners, when a sweaty redhead with the bitchiest expression he’s maybe ever seen enters his field of vision.
“you’re alive,” she says.
eddie blinks again. “why do you sound so disappointed?”
“yo coach!” she shouts, already on the move away from him. “he’s alive!”
he tries to sit up, but that makes the pain in his head worse, and also draws attention to the fact that his back also hurts. he squeezes his eyes shut and makes a truly embarrassing noise of pain — if pressed, he’d call it a whimper — and a pair of big hands land on his shoulders.
“out, out ladies i got this! hey!, hey, man, don’t move just yet,” says big hands.
“yeah, no problem, i don’t want to anymore,” eddie says. he stirs up the will to open his eyes again and very nearly slams them back shut. because of course the person staring down at him is fucking coach hottie snackycakes himself. he’s even better looking in person, too, big droopy eyes, lips as pink as his bubblegum, and shiny, jesus christ. he’s still got eddie by the shoulders, hands warm through the thin cotton of his flannel and tee — because eddie’s always been more fashion than sense, wayne always said, and it’s even worse now that the paps are on him—
“oh, fuck this is gonna be all over tiktok later, isn’t it?” he moans.
“maybe not.”
“don’t lie.”
“listen, eddie — it is eddie, right?” asks coach hottie. “i’m steve. coach harrington. faughnsie — lottie, i mean — she said you’re eddie. her brother’s guitarist? what do you remember?”
“more like he’s my singer,” he says, “but sure. and not much.”
“well, you’re gonna be okay,” says coach hottie — steve. “it really wasn’t that bad, and it was probably too fast for anyone to get it, unless they already had a camera on you. you took a puck to the head when one popped up. i’d apologize but it wasn’t one of my girls who did it, so. anyway — you weren’t out for long, which robbie says is good — she’ll get a look at you in a second — but you got your bell rung pretty good. and you’re gonna have quite the shiner, trust me.”
“speaking from experience?”
“oh, yeah. closer and faster too.” he gently raps his head with his knuckles. “too many concussions too early ended my nhl days, in fact.”
“oh. oh shit, sorry, i—“
“don’t worry about it, man, it happens,” he says. “and if it hadn’t, i wouldn’t be here.”
“at the frozen four.”
“yeah, sure, that too.”
“what?”
“what?” steve waves him off. “anyway, i’m just glad to see you up, ish, and talking. looked pretty scary, from the bench.”
“i really don’t remember,” says eddie. “but i’m sure i’ll see it on tiktok later, like i said — at least, my unconscious, bleeding form.”
“i got up there pretty fast, so i doubt it,” says steve.
eddie blinks, twice. “you—?”
“you were behind my bench, and you. well,” he says with a shrug, but he’s clearly a little embarrassed, finally putting those hands away — weapons of eddie destruction, he thinks — and shoving them into his pockets of his tight slacks. “i should be getting back out there.”
“do you? you’re murdering them pretty good, unless i black out and missed them getting four more goals,” eddie says.
the corners of steve’s eyes crinkle when he smiles. eddie thinks he might just pass out again. “no, we’re still gonna cinch it, i think. looks bad, though — first time coach missing the final period so’s he can hit on the cute musician who got his clock cleaned by the biscuit.”
“oh,” he says. swallows. “uh.”
steve’s crinkly, smiley eyes go wide. “unless—“
“no less!” eddie shouts and then immediately winces. at a better, less damaging to his more than slightly concussed noggin, volume, he says, “more, actually. because pretty sure i shouldn’t be left unsupervised, and i’ve clearly been abandoned by the band, so—“
“so,” says steve.
“coach, two minutes!” someone calls.
“so, i was hoping maybe i could keep hitting on the hot hockey coach back at his?”
“i’m at the ramada inn,” he says, “and i got tape to watch for the finals.”
“i live for room service,” eddie tells him seriously. “and i’m suddenly very into wisconsin sports teams.”
“coach! go time!”
“yeah?” he asks.
“yeah.”
“COACH!”
he jerks a thumb over his shoulder. “i gotta — but, uh, later?”
“pick me up in twenty?”
“probably more like half an hour, with stoppage,” he says.
someone bangs on the door. “COACH!! let’s boogie!!”
with one last look, wide eyed and smiling, steve leaves. eddie watches him go. he’d heard hockey players were caked up but lord — eddie is about to convert to a new religion, or maybe found one, over the stretch of those slacks.
“damn,” he says quietly.
“gross,” a woman says. eddie startles and looks to the side, where a lanky brunette with a bob and an undercut is staring at him, unimpressed. she’s in some get up that screams athletic trainer, and there’s a white board in her hand.
“how long have you been there?” he asks.
she raises an eyebrow. “long enough, and honestly, i don’t know if that counts as a you rule for him, or a you suck for you,” she says and does not elaborate when he asks. “also don’t look at him like that. it’s steve. he’s basically my sister.”
“yeah? any tips then?” asks eddie. “i promise i’ll only use them for good. well. mostly.”
“god,” she says with an expansive eye roll. “you’re gonna be a nightmare, aren’t you?”
a cheer goes up outside the room as the teams, presumably, take the ice again. eddie, head throbbing, concussed, embarrassed, grins. “sure hope so,” he says.
#stranger things#eddie munson#steve harrington#steddie#rockstar au#hockey au#two great tastes that taste great together tbh#cross posted on twitter#might clean this up later + pop it on ao3
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you’ve inspired me so here’s a thing you can do whatever with cause I got a migraine and lost my train of thought
so Danny’s working the bar at the iceberg lounge and notices more people are stress drinking, even the Big Names and asks what’s up only to find it’s ✨Tax Season✨
Danny: oh I always forget about that
someone: (aghast) you don’t pay your taxes
Danny: *shrugs* I’m not allowed to pay taxes
wtf does that mean, is he exempt, someone asks but no Danny explains that the first and only time he tried to pay his taxes he received a full refund and a cease and desist order
word gets around and not even the joker want to mess with Danny because what kind of a monster can scare the irs
(This is actually an inherited problem from his parents)
"What did you just say?" Danny looks up from where he is mixing drinks. Across from him is a purple suit-wearing clown- he hates clowns, so he was attempting not to make eye contact- whose whole white face is twitching slightly.
Danny blinks slowly, using every ounce of self-control to not give in to the urge to reach across the bar and slap him. After a moment, he answered, "I always forget tax season."
"You're crazy enough to take on the IRS?" The clown's jaw drops. "I mean Batman, sure, I understand that, but the IRS?"
Danny frowns. "I don't take them on. I don't have to do my taxes."
"How?" A man in a suit covered in question marks demands from further down the bar.
He shrugs his shoulders a little. "I tried it once, but they sent me a full refund and a cease and desist order. They only remind me that I cannot file taxes now."
"Prove it," A man covered in scales hisses.
Danny grabs a rag, using it to clean off the lemon juice. He reaches into his apron pocket, pulling out a folded-up letter. He could have left it in his locker, but stuff always went missing there. Best to keep his stuff on his person while working. "Sure. Here I have it now. I went to the post office before my shift-hey!"
The lade covered in leaves yanks the letter out of his hand, unfolding it and reading the words as though it wasn't a federal crime. Her voice wavers when she gets to the reminder that the United States of America Internal Revenue Service would not stand another attempt at Daniel Fenton's taxes.
"This can't be real," She scoffs, but there is an underline of worry in her voice that she can't entirely hide.
She turns to a man in a strange white and black suit- like it's evenly split down the middle strange. It matches his face, though; one side is gorgeous, and the other is deformed. "This isn't real, is it Two-Face?"
Two-face takes the paper from her hand, carefully reading the words before pulling out his phone and typing away. After a few seconds, he pauses, then gasps. "It's real. My boys just confirmed the Tax ID number. He is not legally allowed to do taxes."
"Holly Molly, you're insane," the clown gasped, backing out of the seat while pointing at Danny as though he was the devil. "Stay away from me you lunitic! I'm not messing with the IRS's boogie man!"
He turned tail and ran, leaving behind a stunned Danny, wondering what he could have said to earn that reaction. His parents back home were also ordered to not do their taxes. It's common.
He turns to his other customers, ready to take their order, but they all pale and quickly duck away from him as well.
Strange.
Then, Danny notices the silence that has fallen upon the Iceberg Lounge. Even the music has been cut off as everyone stares at him in disbelief.
He shifts, a little uncomfortable with the stares. Danny has never grown used to attention, no matter how much he craved it as a teenager. He always wanted to be in the It Crowd and be given an official membership to the A-listers, but he grew to understand that the only way they liked seeing him was in pain.
So Danny learned to avoid attention as he could, which wasn't complex as the part of the town's freaks, but the very few mintues someone did pay attention to him something terrible ended up happening.
Dash stuffed him into a locker while classmates laughed and cheered the bully on.
A teacher calling on him just to make him feel stupid.
His parents realized he was slipping in his grades and reminded him that he was a failure to the family's intelligence.
Or some random GIW agent that "banished" him from his Earth, flinging Danny straight across the universe to whatever hellhole Gotham crawled out of.
He barely got this bartending job only a few weeks ago- lying about his age which he thinks his boss doesn't care about- and using a shade of an old bartender to coach him in mixology.
Shades were different from ghosts. For one thing, they were weaker and unable to be seen by regular people. They could not interact with the world and often didn't even know they were dead. If Danny had been able to see them before the portal, he would have known they were the cause of what is commonly known as a "ghost."
They were the myths.
Jeff Ricci is Shade, one who is aware he died. He was killed in a gang shoot-out a few years after he and his sister ran away from an abusive home. They traveled through three states, dodging police and CPS, before they disappeared among Gotham's homeless population.
The pair of siblings survived for a while doing odd jobs for local gangs- things like drug runs or helping them move guns- which is why Jeff was out there the night the fight broke out.
It was an imperfect stroke of luck, the wrong place and time. The two had been doing so well, too. They had both gotten jobs at the Iceberg Lounge, lying about their ages, where Jeff was a dishwasher, and Lucia was a housekeeper.
After hours, Jeff was taught by his coworkers how to properly mix drinks, waiting for Lucia to finish her job. When the two turned eighteen, Lucia became a waitress, and Jeff joined the bar- though if anyone asked or checked their employee records, both were twenty-one.
With better pay and hours, they could rent an apartment, finally gaining a home after three years of homelessness. Jeff had lived in that home for only a month when he accepted a job to buy Lucia some migraine medication and had perished.
Lucia lived on without her twin, broken far more than before, but she still had the apartment and job at the Iceberg Lounge. She was unaware her brother still followed her around, watching her actaully turn twenty-one while he remained eighteen.
That's how Danny met him, a somewhat see-through man casually following one of the prettiest waitresses. He had assumed he was being a creep, but Jeff had been delighted that someone could not only see him but was willing to protect his sister by threatening him away from her.
In exchange for lessons on proper mixing, Jeff asked Danny to keep an eye on his sister. Help her when he could not. It was a fair trade from one younger brother to another.
The shade is currently leaning against the counter beside Danny, staring at him as though Danny was a god. "You scare the Joker. Shit, Danny, I knew you were some kind of Rouge in the making, but to take out heavy hitters like this before your debut!? That's just terrifying! Would you be willing to pay my sister to be your secretary or something? She's a great typer!"
What a strange place Gotham is.
#dcxdpdabbles#dc x dp crossover#IRS's boogie man#Danny freaking out the Gotham Rouges#The Fentons are outlawed from their Taxes#Danny is in a new dimension and knowns nothing#He isn't even aware he was serving some of the worst criminals of Gotham#Jeff and Lucia Ricci have accidentally made a Deal with Ghost King Danny
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idk if you’re taking in requests or thirsts but imagine giving toji a lap dance and even then he’s still the one who’s in charge and shiittt 😵💫
i want him so bad 😞
lol, why did I think of a stripper AU when I saw this? Also, this ask is like MONTHS old, I'm so sorry...also tysm for 4.9k guyssss, ur too kind
𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: Toji x stripper fem! reader - explicit content; minors DNI - sensual movements; lap dances + bumping and grinding - kisses (f! receiving) - clitoral stimulation - breast fondling + nipple play - biting/nibbling- pet names (angel, baby, sweetheart, sweetie) - no penetration, but things get steamy - cameos: Mei Mei, Nanami and Ino.
𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2.7k
You were Toji’s favorite stripper.
You, your coworkers, and all the clients who come to enjoy the show all know this as fact.
It’s all fun and games that this is your job, and you must cater to all the other men and women who come to see you strut and work your stuff (or else your manager, Mei Mei, would have your head).
But this is something that should never be forgotten. When that raven-haired man with a scar on his lip walks into the premises, everyone has to act right: you’re off-limits because you are his girl.
Tonight was one of those Friday nights; women gather around the bar top to gather their weekend drinks – and flirt with Kento Nanami, the part-time bartender. Men under the influence howl at the topless entertainers, allowing them to motorboat and stuff cash into their underwear. And Ino, the DJ, plays the tunes that set the mood and keep the place going.
Toji walks past all of that — he’s not here for it. He strides up to the open area, where there are mini stages abided by booths, a pole for each that comes from the ceiling down. He comes to one of the stages, and a dancer stops midway through her routine to greet the man, ignoring the girls who whine from her mesmerizing dancing coming to a halt. “Toji~, it’s Friday already?”
“Yup, good to see you, Roxy,” he flashes a quick smile at the named entertainer. “They here today?”
Roxy giggles. “Knew you were going to ask me that. They should be at that back one over there at the corner…Oh! There they are.” She points, and Toji follows her finger to the promised stage and booth at the corner. He grins and gives a curt nod to Roxy before going on his way. “Enjoy the show, Toji~”
At the club corner is a booth filled with tired businessmen who come to drink. But guessing from the grins on their faces, they’re too enamored by what’s in front of them to quench their first. On the pole, twirling around the metal bar, was you. Entertaining the men with the usual routine, a few tricks, and moves to wow the mix of young and old business clients. And they gasp and roar at you, splitting your legs during a high kick.
Unfortunately, though, this was the last of their fun with you. Because after you transition from the pole, taking a client’s hand to have them aid you down the stage, something – or someone – catches your attention from the corner of your eye. You turn and smile, “Hey there, big guy.”
“Hey,” he greets you with a smirk. The guys around the booth watch, most with expressions as if their hearts dropped. Minus one, a young man who felt he should question the man standing next to him.
“Uhh, excuse me,” he says to the dark-haired, burly man. The other colleagues looked at him as if he lost his mind. “We got this table first, so go over somewhere with the other strippers and—“
He could not finish that sentence. Because Toji pulled the kid off his seat with one hand, the poor bastard squeaked at the sudden action. Piercing green eyes bore into his skull, his blood shifting to icy cold. “How ‘bout I have you go somewhere? Either in the trash or six feet under, whichever floats y’r boat.”
The scared look on the poor kid’s face didn’t change Toji’s attitude. Not even the other guys who were pleading to him to let their friend go, that he didn’t know what he was doing. He did not come here to start something, not tonight.
And for that, you were the only one who could calmly intervene, dissuading the situation by placing a hand on Toji’s shoulder. “It’s all right, Toji. I was giving these guys a little show before you came in. Now, please let him go, okay? I don’t think Mei Mei would want to deal with another broken arm situation.”
It was the safest option that you spoke to him, his little favorite. So, with a gruff scoff, Toji lets the guy go for him to land on the floor roughly. “You heard ‘em, fellas. Outta my spot.” The entrepreneurs get up and scram with no hesitation, grumbling at the younger colleague for causing such strife in the first place as they walk away somewhere, leaving you and Toji.
He watches them leave, turning to you when they’re at a respectable distance. Here is when he properly gets a good look at you. God, he could never get enough of you. You were wearing a black laced, caged mesh bra that covered your breasts, matching with lacy bottoms that shaped your hips beautifully. The bra was covered in rhinestones that shined with the club lights, which partnered with the side of your bottoms. And to complete the look, over-the-knee heeled boots that sparkled. A new favorite, Toji thinks.
“Well, now that you’re done terrorizing my guests,” you giggle and gesture to the booth seat. “Ready for me to spoil you?”
“Heh, think that’s the other way ‘round, sweetheart.” Toji chuckles as he takes off his coat and sits down. He notes you staring at his bulky arms for a quick second. You were fast, but not fast enough for him to catch you. “I’m sure y’re ready to drain my wallet.”
You walk between him and the stage behind you, bewitching him with the twinge of your lips as you bring your face closer. “Would that be a bad thing?”
Toji’s hand goes to your cheek, “A pretty lil’ angel like you? I’d let you rob every cent of me.”
The jest does its job of making you laugh before you withdraw your face from his hold. “You know the rules.”
The older man rolls his eyes but obliges, putting his hands behind his head and shifting comfortably. “I know, I know. No touchy.”
“No touchy.” You repeat, knowing he’s on the same page while you warm yourself up.
You start with the usual — he likes it. You turn and spread your legs, bending down slowly before him so he can get a perfect view of your ass and underwear. And you take your time getting up, using your hands to entice him by grazing them around your asscheeks. Next, you face him, eyes locked with his emerald ones. Taking one foot after the other, you bend again and place your hands on his thighs, rubbing them while maintaining eye contact. “How was work? Tough as usual?”
Now, while you have rules of your own, he also has things he can’t share — like the fact that his primary source of income comes from killing people. It’s why he’s always sure to clean himself up before coming here, spending his hard-earned cash to see you. But he humors you with tiny hints, “Mmm, as usual. Broken nose here, blood on knuckles there.”
You straighten up, placing a heeled foot on his right thigh. “My my, not that you got hurt, right?”
“Not a single scratch.”
You lift a brow before bringing your leg down to swiftly sit on his lap, snaking your hands up from his abdomen and chest to his strong shoulders. “You’re quite the dangerous one.”
“Sure,” He chortles smugly, “but y’re one to talk.”
You play along, forming a small “o” with your lips to display faux surprise. All the while bouncing on his lap. “Me? Dangerous?”
“Oh yeah, sweetie.” His eyes never leave your face, even when you sway to the side to measure his attention. “Y’re quite the little minx yourself.”
Your eyes narrow, inching your face closer, your noses practically touching. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.” Slow grinds to his groin, it makes him swallow. You close your eyes, lips drawing in with a whisper. “Is it?”
Toji closes his eyes as well, falling for your sensual spell. “Not at all…” But nothing comes of it, only a string of giggles as you remove your face from his, poking the tip of his nose with your finger to signal with awake before fully withdrawing your figure from him. He grins, shaking his head. “Fuckin’ tease.”
“I don’t see you complaining, sir.” You throw the title at him with a playful smirk, batting an eye before turning around with your back facing him. You gently sit on his lap and transition your services to that of a lap dance.
With an arched back, you roll your hips and ride on his lap, your butt rubbing on his jean-clad thighs to create heated friction. And Toji’s eyes examine your figure, from the highlighted skin of your back to the sway of your hips. The view of your butt rubbing on him gets him going, trying to fight the urge to just fuck the rules and grab your ass to grind on himself. Every rasp to his groin tests him to breathe steadily.
But then, you just had to look at him over your shoulder with that cute, complacent leer. “How ya feelin’ there, big guy? Dangerous enough for you yet?”
Yup, fuck it. Rules be damned, Toji grabs for your ass and brings it down flat on his groin. The action takes you aback – unconditionally out of the accustomed routine. Before you can question him, Toji’s scarred lips are already at your ear. “You tell me, princess. Teasin’ me like that is just askin’ for it.”
You hold back a whimper when he comes to your neck, biting your lips when his lips meet your skin. “Mmmm…whatever happened to no touchy? You could get into trouble—“
“Aww, are ya worrying f’r me?” He snickers to your ear again, listening to you gasp at the buck of his hips to your ass. “Don’t worry, sweetheart, just keep dancin’ f’r me, ‘kay? I’ll take care of you…”
Toji bites the helix of your ear, rolling his hips to hump you. With a shaky moan, you grind on him to match his cadence. You’re nervous; this is against the policy: guests are not supposed to touch the entertainers. And yet, now, with Toji’s firm hands holding onto you and him whispering to your ear, it somehow feels different — a lot more hedonistic.
You decide to play along, throwing your head back to his shoulder to rest, which gives him more access to kiss your exposed skin. His lips peck down your neck, and quivering wails seep from your lips when he mischievously nibbles on it. Too distracted to detect a hand snake down to your covered chasm.
Now would be the right time to say things are going too far. You bring a hand on top of his, a silent warning for him. But he chooses to ignore it, creeping the other hand under the hem of your top. “Relax, baby. Just focus on danicin’, yeah?”
This was so different, having a guest take the rails — no, having Toji take control of you. And you don’t dislike it; far from it, actually. If anything, it’s oddly exciting — letting the older man please you as you service him. It’s new and dangerous, especially in your workplace. But, oh my God, you don’t want it to stop.
You wrap your arms around his neck while he puts his back to the booth, using this to change into a different move. With your torso lifted and using your legs to maintain balance, you move your abdomen up and down. While you’re ghosting his groin with wave-like motions, Toji uses his fingers to play with your body. His left middle and forefinger rubs on your cover folds, roughly pressing down on where your clitoris is. A choked sob leaves puffy lips, even when his right hand is in your bra to grope your breast, his thumb swiping on your nipple to harden.
“Mmmph! Ahhaaa, Toji…”
“Yeah, just like that,” he reassures you. Another tweak to your nipple has you bite your lips with a hum. “Just like that—“
“Am I interrupting something?”
It took you mere milliseconds to recognize the new voice that enters your space, abruptly interrupting your session with purpose. You’re off of Toji just like that, hurriedly fixing yourself in the presence of your manager. “H–Hello, Mei Mei.”
“Hello there, Y/n.” She says it sweetly, but her words carry a stern connotation. The pale-blue-haired woman has her hair up in a braided ponytail while wearing a simple black split-thigh cami dress with mesh sleeves, and her gold earrings and red lipstick contrast with her pale skin. “Ah, I expected to see you here, too, Mr. Fushiguro.”
Toji greets the women, standing up at his own pace. “It is a Friday, Lady Mei.”
She smiled at the use of her business name; it was appropriate for what she was about to say. “Indeed it is. I decided to come down to check on the place and see how the life of the party was going. And all my guests seemed to be having quite a good time…Minus this one guy, who told me about the ‘scary fucker with a scar on his lip’ who lifted him like a doll and scared him and his buddies to a different table.”
Toji rubs the back of his neck, chortling with a smug grin. “Hmm, the guy must be some dick.”
“Must be...Now listen, Fushiguro, I know how much of a valuable customer you are, throwing good money at my girls — my girl.” Mei Mei walks to you and places her cold hands on your shoulders. “I’d find it hard to have you not come here anymore for not keeping your hands to yourself. On my customers and my entertainers.”
“That I understand, my Lady,” he sighs at your manager’s lecture and crosses his arms. “But you know how I roll. I just come here to see your girls—“ He stops to shift his gaze on you. “Your sweet girl.”
“And I see you care about them quite a lot, your hand up their bra and your lips on their skin.”
He shrugs it off. “I’m guilty.”
Mei Mei walks up to the older guest, her light violet eyes locked with his dark jade orbs. “Fushiguro, I’m sorry, but I’m afraid my rules apply to everybody. No touching the dancers. This is a strip club, not a brothel.”
“Yes, Mei,” He grasps every word thrown at him, his eyes not leaving her feline ones. “It’s just a shame that I’m willin’ to pay whatever to have Y/n privately for one night in those lil’ VIP rooms upstairs.”
A silver brow is quirked. “Are you trying to throw more money at my face to change the rules for your own convenience?”
“I’m trying to talk business, from one loyal customer to a good businesswoman.” He says nonchalantly, pointing to you with his chin. “That is if they’re up for it.” Now, why did he have to single you out like that? Because your manager turns to you with a patient look, gauging where you stand in this situation.
It’s a tricky thing to answer: do you want to have sex with your guest that made you feel good minutes ago? This job is supposed to be an easy one, coming here to dance and swing your ass off til the morning sun for good money. Now, on the one night when things get a little too heated – with your favorite customer, mind you – you’re in a conflict. And you have to thank God you didn’t kiss him on the lips!
However, it’s not like you don’t trust Toji; it’s the opposite. Sure, he can be a cocky bastard; there’s been instances where he’s touched you, but never like tonight. And yet, you didn’t find any danger in it. You were relaxed atop of him, leaning more into his touches. So, the thought that more could come from it is new. Chilling, but thrilling.
Your manager can see the inner turmoil through your face, so she answers in your stead, “Give it some thought for tomorrow, Y/n. And you,” Mei Mei turns back to the man guilty of this predicament. “Learn to behave yourself ’til then.”
“I will, Lady Mei,” Toji sneers, grabbing for his coat to put on and taking a few bands to give to you. “And I’ll be seein’ you tomorrow, baby.”
© 𝐇𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐲2024 – divideres from @/cafekitsune.
#𝑯𝒐𝒔𝒉𝒊 ˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ 𝑾𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒆𝒔: 𝑺𝒄𝒆��𝒂𝒓𝒊𝒐𝒔#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen smut#jjk smut#jjk x you#jjk x y/n#toji x reader#toji smut#toji fushiguro x reader smut#toji fushiguro smut#toji x you#toji x y/n#fushiguro toji x reader#fushiguro toji x you#toji fanfic#jujutsu kaisen x you#jujutsu kaisen fic#jjk imagines#toji imagine
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@jegulus-microfic | april 5: slap | 1.1k words
James watches on as Regulus plays a card game, surrounded by the family that they have created.
James leans against the doorframe, sipping on a lukewarm cider as he watches Regulus, who’s sitting cross legged in the centre of their living room. He’s in one of James’ old sweaters, the sleeves rolled up to stop them from covering his hands.
James is so in love with him.
Regulus glows, sat surrounded by the people that they love. This is a home that they have created for each other, with each other.
In his hands are two cards, and he watches Remus and Pandora carefully. James knows that he has a +4 and a reverse left, and James is almost certain that he’s going to win.
Remus places down a yellow +2, smirking as Sirius hooks his head over his partner’s shoulder.
Pandora only giggles, placing down another +2, leaving Regulus to slap his +4 down, screaming ‘uno’ before anyone else can place their cards.
He is delighted, his legs uncrossing as he rocks back gently.
“You prick,” Sirius calls, having taken Remus’ side as his partner begrudgingly picks up his ten new cards, grumbling good-naturedly about it.
“Sorry your boyfriend’s a loser, Siri,” Regulus taunts back. He is looser than normal, a glass of wine in his hands that he’s been sipping from intermittently, but he’s not drunk. He’s just comfortable.
Sirius scowls at his brother as Remus plays a green 3, Pandora laying a green 7 and allowing Regulus to place his green Reverse down, declaring him the winner.
There are cheers released from Regulus and his corner, with Mary and Evan having decided early on that Regulus was going to win. James thinks he can see money changing hands between Peter and Marlene, but that’s between them.
Barty and Lily join him, the smell of smoke clinging to their clothes. They’ve come in from the fire escape, James thinks.
“Odd to see you hanging around at the edges of a party,” Barty comments, but James knows he doesn’t mean anything by it.
“Reg is enjoying himself. Didn’t want to interrupt.” James shrugs his shoulders, acting nonchalant.
“You’re good for him, you know?” That makes James pause. Barty’s been hesitant to show James anything other than casual apathy since the pair started dating. “He has people who love him, and that hasn’t changed, but I think you make him aware that it’s okay to accept that love. He’s been in Sirius’ shadow for as long as I’ve known him, and he’s always felt like he’s second choice, but you give him space to be himself. You’ve shown him that he doesn’t have to be Sirius to be loved.”
A distressed noise claws its way out of James’ throat, and Barty pats him on the back before stealing his cider and moving to reclaim a seat near Evan. Lily moves to take his place at James’ side.
“Barty’s right, James. But I also think he’s good for you, too. If he weren’t here you’d be forcing yourself into the centre of the room, even if you needed a break. He lets you switch off, and he doesn’t expect anything from you. I think we take you for granted, sometimes, but he doesn’t.” She turns her head to focus back on the group, and James follows her gaze.
Regulus is looking back at them, mouthing ‘you okay?’ to James. He nods his head in response, but Regulus stands up anyway, heading over to the pair.
“Hey, Lily, I think Pandora needs someone to commiserate with her after her frankly embarrassing Uno performance,” Regulus says, gently teasing his best friend’s failure.
The trio looks over to Pandora, where she’s reading the lines on Sirius’ palm, the two gossiping intently with their heads close together as Remus overlooks the pair, a fond smile on his face. “Oh, she looks positively devastated,” Lily jokes, but heads over to her girlfriend nonetheless. “Look after James, Reg,” she calls over her shoulder.
Regulus takes James’ hand, moving him out of the front room and back through the kitchen, leaving his wine on the side before crawling out the window to take a seat in the fire escape.
James has no choice but to follow him. Wherever Regulus goes, James will always follow.
“Congrats on winning Uno – a truly impressive performance,” James comments, a smirk falling over his face.
Regulus sniggers as he draws two cigarettes out of the pocket of his jacket. “I hope Mary made a killing. Peter should’ve known better than to bet on Remus – he’s useless at card games.”
Wordlessly, Regulus hands a cigarette over to James, cupping a hand around it as he lights it before turning his attention to his own.
The pair smoke in silence. They don’t need words. They never have.
“I love you, Jamie.” Regulus is stubbing his cigarette out as he says this, but it doesn’t dampen the significance of the moment.
Those words are always significant to James. Regulus is sparing with them; hesitant to express his emotions with words. It’s okay; he shows James that he loves him in a million other ways, but sometimes James needs to hear it.
This is one of those times, and Regulus knows. Regulus always knows.
James doesn’t say anything back; doesn’t have to.
He stubs his cigarette out, leaning over to kiss his boyfriend. It’s soft, tender. Regulus tastes of smoke and red wine, and James loves him.
Regulus pulls back, resting his forehead against James’ before pressing a soft kiss to his lips, to his cheek, to his forehead. “Let’s go back inside.”
James registers the goose bumps that have appeared on his arm, and he nods.
The couple head back in to rejoin their friends. The living room has a warm glow to it, filled with life and laughter and so much love.
“Welcome back, you two,” Remus comments, dropping down from the sofa where he’d taken up residence to sit beside Sirius.
“I hope neither of you were doing anything untoward.” Sirius looks over at them, an eyebrow raising. Regulus only raises an eyebrow in return.
“Piss off, Siri, everyone knows that if anyone’s going to do anything untoward on a fire escape it’s you and Remus,” Regulus bites at his brother, but there’s no real anger in it.
Peter releases a bark of laughter as Sirius buries his face in Remus’ chest. Regulus has won this round.
James draws his boyfriend across the living room, to the sofa that Remus has just evacuated, and the pair curl up together. It’s instinctual, as easy as breathing. Regulus fits himself to James and James fits himself to Regulus. They are two parts of the same whole; two parts of the same soul.
James rests his chin on Regulus’ shoulder and looks out at his friends, at his family.
Regulus is in his arms and he is home.
#jegulus#regulus black#james potter#starchaser#marauders#marauders era#sunseeker#jegulus microfic#dead gay wizards#si writes
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An Oscar piastri request because I have severe brain rot. Oscar Piastri x black American!reader. Like they met through Logan and Oscar is just downright obsessed with his girlfriend and everything she does. No pressure I just really enjoy the way you write.
southern charm | oscar piastri social media au
pairing: oscar piastri x fem american!reader
once upon a time, in the magical land of the 305, one man would take the mantle of the ultimate wingman
yourusername
liked by logansargeant, arthurleclerc and 21,983 others
tagged: oscarpiastri
yourusername: pov you're my phone when i'm watching oscar piastri tiktok edits
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user1: babe those edits are doing over time
yourusername: i don't like your tone. oscar is the sexiest man ever, end of.
user2: if your gf isn't arguing with randoms online over you, is she really your gf?
user3: she doesn't hold back when it comes to oscar, that's my GOAT
oscarpiastri: can you stop sending them to me i don't like being perceived.
yourusername: too bad because i want to perceive you
logansargeant: i'd argue she wants to perceive you too much
yourusername: only because you have no one to perceive you
logansargeant: you can't call me lonely when i got you your boyfriend
yourusername: 👋 👀 hey look it's the main contributor to the male loneliness statistics 👀 👋
oscarpiastri: y/n that's mean...
yourusername: but not wrong 😑
user4: i know they're joking but y/n does not hold back
yourusername: had to prepare him for the mean f1 bitches
landonorris: so this is the mysterious gf...
yourusername: watch your step at COTA, oscar may obey team orders but i DONT
landonorris: oscar???
oscarpiastri: i'm sorry y/n can FACTUALLY do no wrong so you're on your own here mate
yourusername: thank you baby. oscar supports women's rights and wrongs he is a hashtag ally
oscarpiastri
liked by logansargeant, yourusername and 621,983 others
tagged: yourusername
oscarpiastri: getting daily outfit updates from the love of your life >>>
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user5: oh this has to be one of the healthiest celebrity relationships ever
yourusername: omg mom i'm a celebrity
user6: hi can we please get the skincare routine?
yourusername: thank you for picking the ones where i look good baby x
oscarpiastri: you look good, GREAT IN FACT, in every photo ever - every waking moment
yourusername: you're too cute osc x
logansargeant: so you get this and i just get venmo requests?
yourusername: don't hate the player, hate the game
logansargeant: what game are we playing it's just venmo requests for coffee because "i'm a girl i deserve it"
oscarpiastri: idk that sounds logical to me
logansargeant: wait does she not do this to you?
oscarpiastri: no? also just know we split the money so thank you for all of my morning coffees for the last two years logan x
logansargeant: i regret ever introducing you two
user6: obsessed with this nightmare trio
alexalbon: can confirm they are a nightmare
oscarpiastri: don't call us a nightmare on my gf appreciation post
lilymunhe: yeah alex, where's mine?
alexalbon: any trio that breaks my motorhome from getting to competitive during just dance can be categorised as a nightmare - hope this helps x
yourusername: is it because we didn't invite you?
alexalbon: it was literally MY motorhome?
oscarpiastri: we beat our best score on rasputin so sorry not sorry
user7: idk how people can say oscar has no personality when he literally would throw hands for y/n?
yourusername
liked by alexalbon, oscarpiastri and 24,871 others
yourusername: practising my smize for the COTA paddock can't allow oscar to be the only one to slay in austin
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user10: any spare paddock passes miss?
logansargeant: so i'm not allowed to slay?
yourusername: i think you need to save up all of your slaying for the track to get that point on the board
logansargeant: Y/N ????? i'm trying :(
yourusername: sorry logie bear that was a low blow from me, i'm proud of you
oscarpiastri: talented. brilliant. incredible. amazing. showstopping. spectacular. never the same. totally unique. completely not ever been done before.
yourusername: did you just quote lady gaga?
oscarpiastri: yeah, got a problem with that?
yourusername: nope. you're my favourite little monster
landonorris: i thought this was a healthy relationship - don't call my teammate a monster 😤
yourusername: that's what lady gaga fans are called lando, i've called him much worse, bring ear plugs to cota ;)
oscarpiastri: WAIT NO MY PR TEAM SAID NO MORE SEXY TIMES ON PUBLIC PLATFORMS
yourusername: boring ...
user11: so excited for the best f1 wag to be back in the paddock
yourusername: appreciate it but i can't take the crown from real icon lily
lilymunhe: omg thanks y/n i can't wait to meet you !!
alexalbon: are you always as insane as logan says
yourusername: he's probably not wrong but i prefer the term charming
oscarpiastri: we're just very passionate about things
alexalbon: like just dance?
yourusername: no comment.
mclaren
liked by landonorris, oscarpiastri and 1,092,347 others
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mclaren: get someone who looks at you the way oscar and y/n look at each other
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user14: i came here to watch formula 1 not to feel LONELY
user15: okay who was going to tell me oscar had such a hot girlfriend?
logansargeant: trust me literally spend more than 30 seconds with him and you'll know
oscarpiastri: okay but y/n is the prettiest person in the world AND the smartest, funniest and kindest person ever so you WILL listen and appreciate her
yourusername: god i love you so much
user16: is she an aussie too?
yourusername: nope i pulled oscar with pure american southern charm
oscarpiastri: it's true she lassoed me like a cowboy and it was love at first sight
yourusername: let me clarify we were at a wild wild west party but it was defo love at first lasso
landonorris: get someone who looks at you the way i look at the MCL60 😍
user17: lando is one of us
landonorris: i feel lonelier now, around oscar and y/n, than i did right when i was broken up with
yourusername: easy to look like that when your boyfriend is a dashing, charming and humble gentleman + generational talent
oscarpiastri: hehehehe stop you're making me blush
logansargeant: you guys are so gross
yourusername: says the man that's literally an accredited wing man because YOU got us together
yourusername
liked by maxverstappen1, oscarpiastri and 37,988 others
tagged: oscarpiastri
yourusername: that moment when you see the love of your life achieve his dreams !!!!!!!!!! NO FR oscar i am so so unbelievably proud of you, you deserve this so much. i love you, thank you for letting me be a part of your life x
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user21: they're my parents now they have no say in it
user22: consider me charmed
oscarpiastri: thank you so much my love, your support is everything to me and i can't wait to grow old with you
yourusername: my heart is yours now and forever ❤️
oscarpiastri: also i'm finding some way to frame you celebrating in my garage
yourusername: i couldn't contain my excitement, sorry to the mechanic who literally got tinnitus from me screaming lol
user23: her in the garage is real f1 fan representation
logansargeant: as much shit as i give you guys, you're so cute and i'm so glad you guys have each other
yourusername: thank you logan!! i forever owe you one for introducing us
oscarpiastri: i promise when you get into a relationship i won't once complain about it
landonorris: i was a cynic, but yeah you guys are very cute - i am endeared
yourusername: oscar tends to have that effect
oscarpiastri: ummmmm i think it's more you
landonorris: okay i said you guys are cute you don't need to prove it again
oscarpiastri
liked by logansargeant, yourusername and 1,239,084 others
tagged: yourusername
oscarpiastri: the best weekend ever and wishing i could just take you everywhere with me, until las vegas my love x
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yourusername: take me with you
yourusername: who cares about life responsibilities when i'm with you
yourusername: i'd say i'm a good luck charm but you're too talented to need one
oscarpiastri: i love you so much i miss you already
landonorris: you said goodbye five minutes ago... we've not even got to departures yet
oscarpiastri: is it illegal to miss the love of your life?
landonorris: when i'm not in a relationship? YES.
user24: the way oscar was horrified at arthur's 18 hour screentime, i bet his is just as bad now
oscarpiastri: no comment
yourusername: it's 16 hours lol
arthurleclerc: where is my justice? my apology?
oscarpiastri: we fall asleep on face time. i'm not chronically online i'm just terminally in love with my girlfriend
arthurleclerc: trust me we know
logansargeant: the way i know he's about to fly because @yourusername texts me - always the second choice :(
yourusername: oof i guess i'll nap instead
logansargeant: no i can still beat ur ass on 8 ball pool
oscarpiastri: you can't out do the doer soz bud
yourusername: i miss you come back, bullying logan was so much better together in person
note: i hope this was what you were hoping for! i love oscar so i'm always happy to write for him and i love a good comment squabble! thanks for requesting x
#f1 imagine#f1 x reader#f1 instagram au#f1 x you#f1#oscar piastri#oscar piastri instagram au#oscar piastri x you#oscar piastri imagine
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Do you take this pebble?
Bucky barnes x fem!reader
this was written quickly because if i didn’t do it now i never would so sorry for any spelling or grammar mistakes. also i suck at using punctuation so ignore that too!
——————————————————————-
“Hey what’s wrong, Doll?” Bucky asks as he walks into the bedroom to find his best girl crying.
“Penguins” She mutters out and Buckys face turns into a perplexed expression.
“Penguins?” He asks as he scoots onto the bed to get closer to her, laying a hand on her thigh.
“Did you know- did you know that the male penguin will scour the area for the perfect pebble to present to the female as a way of proposing? If she says yes they mate for life.” She starts crying again and Bucky tries holding back his laugh because he thought something had upset you but no you’re crying over penguins.. He moves a bit to accommodate you on his lap, your head on his chest as he rubs his hands up and down your back to soothe you.
“This is ridiculous, i’m ridiculous. Sorry” You apologise for being overly dramatic and Bucky shushes you, you’ve always been emotional and the smallest thing, sad or happy can set you off. He finds it endearing how much you feel.
“It’s okay, baby” He kisses the crown of your head “It’s not ridiculous” He reassures you. The two of you lay there for awhile in each others embrace.
____________ The next morning _____________
After the whole debacle of your emotional breakdown over penguins last night Bucky and you both woke up and got on with your regular activities, him going out to run some ‘errands’ that you apparently weren’t allowed to join him on.. so you tended to some spring cleaning of the apartment.
A few hours later Bucky returns.
“Hey Buck, I missed you” You approach him and wrap your arms around him as he returns the hug, he has a bag in his hand.. a suspicious bag..
“I got you something” He says and you automatically smile, he always thinks of you when he’s out, whether it be him bringing home your favourite treat or a bouquet of your favourite flowers.
“Yeah..? What is it” You beam excitedly and he laughs at your eagerness. You both walk to the kitchen where he sets the bag down on the island.
“Close your eyes and put your hands out” He says and you give him one last suspicious look before you listen and close your eyes. It’s then you hear him go into the bag and get something out, a few seconds later something is placed in your hands, it’s weirdly heavy.
“Open them!” He’s got a bright smile plastered on his face anticipating your reaction.
You open your eyes.
“A pebble?”
“You know how you were telling me about penguins last night..” He jogs your memory and it instantly works because you’re putting it down and jumping into his arms.
“OH MY GOD BUCKY YOU GOT ME A PEBBLE!” He laughs at how adorably excited you are. Eventually he manages to pry you off of him.
“It’s not just any pebble.. break it open.. theres a pretty crystal inside” At this your eyes brighten up, you pick the pebble up and put it on the chopping board and use a hammer that’s meant for meat to break it open. It takes a few tries but eventually you get it open and see what’s inside and pick it up.
“A diamond??” You look at it absolutely baffled and turn around to ask Bucky what it’s all about but stop in your tracks at the sight before you.
Bucky on one knee. Bucky on one knee holding an empty band, looking at you with the most love stricken eyes.
“Accept my pebble and do me the honour of being my mate forever?” He is smiling so big and you stand shocked as tears escape your eyes.
“Bucky..” The biggest grin breaks out on your face.
“What do you say, doll? Will you marry me? Be my penguin partner forever and ever?” He doesn’t get time to prepare himself for the way you launch yourself at him fall to your knees in front of him and wrap your arms around him so tightly
“I take it that’s a yes?” He himself is tearing up now and you lean back to look at him unable to form words simply nodding as tears stream down your face. He takes your hand and puts the band on it.
“Well need to take it back to the jewellers so they can put the diamond in” He starts to explain but you shut him up with a kiss that tells him all that you couldn’t say.
“Bucky Barnes I won the lottery with you” You say cupping his face and kissing him again.
“Doll you have no idea the way the universe answered my prayers by allowing me to find you.” He mutters out as he starts to properly ball and you both cried and kissed and hugged and started dreaming of the rest of your lives
reblogs appreciated if you liked it!
#bucky barnes#writerblr#avengers x reader#bucky barnes x reader#avengers#bucky barnes fic#bucky barnes drabble#bucky barnes headcanon#bucky barnes fanfic#bucky barnes x fem!reader#bucky barnes fanfiction
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Tormented by a Ghost
Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!Reader
TW: small mention of smut and simon being kinda mean
TY TO MY BETA FOR MAKING THIS 10X BETTER @c-h-a-r-n-i-k
Tired of living with your family, you decide to move out. There's just one problem— Rent is too costly to afford on your own. You complain about it to your friend, and they tell you that they know someone who's also looking for a roommate and preferably another female. Fantastic!
Your friend gives you her number and ya'll are moving in together by the end of the month. It was great. No nagging parents, no micromanagement, nothing. You loved it. Until your roommate brings her man over. And he's a fucking bully.
--
You're crawling home from a hard day at work, and you want nothing more than some wine on a quiet night. Unlocking the door, you step into the flat. The lights aren't turned on so you assume your roommate isn't home.
Dumping your bag in your room, you make a beeline towards the kitchen. As you're bent over in the fridge, your roommate's door opens.
"Hey,” you call out, "I'm pourin' myself a glass of wine if you're interested!"
Then an assertive, baritone voice speaks from behind you.
"You must be the roommate."
You give an ear-piercing scream as you jump, whipping around to face him with a hand over your racing heart.
"Fuckin' hell! No, it's okay, I don't need my hearin' er nothin'." he scolds.
"What the fuck! I almost flat-lined with my head in the fridge because of you!"
Then you get a good look at him. This monster of a man is a minimum 6'3, with a black balaclava covering his face, a black long-sleeve shirt, and grey sweats. You tried real hard to not ogle the tattoo that stains his exposed left arm. And the grey sweats, we all know why. Cursed be your fetish for thick forearms and big hands.
He leans his head back, looking down his nose at you.
"I think it'd be an improvement," he says, "You face down, I mean," and your eyebrows shoot up to your hairline as he chuckles.
You don't know who he thinks he is, talking to you—a complete stranger— like that but you aren't about to take his shit.
You sneer. "Fuck you. Yeah, I bet that's the view you get the most. Women willingly turn away to not get a look at your mug. Did my roommate ask you to put that mask on so she could face you during sex?"
He steps forward, his height allowing him to tower over you, and growls out, "You callin' me ugly?"
Smirking, you roll your eyes. Of course.
"I don't see any other reason for you to hide your face. Not that it matters to me— I'm not the one that has to tolerate it."
His eyes squint at you as he retorts, "I'm quite the opposite."
Opening your mouth, you're about to tell him that he can say whatever helps him sleep at night when your roommate calls out to the big brute in front of you.
"Ghost? What's taking so long?" she asks.
You tried and failed miserably to hide your mocking giggle at hearing his name, and he leers at you in response. "Go on, Ghost. You're being called back into the realm of the dead."
As he steps away, he says with contempt, "Dumb little bird doesn't know what she's talking about," before walking over to your roommate, looping his arm around her shoulders and going into her room.
He probably doesn't even know your name and he laid into you like he's hated you his whole life. After pouring yourself a glass of wine, you shake your head and walk towards your bedroom. Freak.
--
One day, after having your friend with benefits over in the morning for some nice stress relief, you walk him out. And fucking Ghost is sitting on the couch with his arms crossed. You quickly shuffle your friend out the door, face glowing with embarrassment.
Why was he here? Jesus Christ, now he's going to watch you do the walk of shame around the flat. Hopefully, he won't say anything. As you walk away from the door to the kitchen to get a bottle of water, Ghost speaks up.
"Well, that was pathetic."
You hang your head and close your eyes in resignation. Should've known someone as toxic as he wouldn't mind his own goddamn business.
"What now, Ghost?"
He sounds oddly smug as he says, "I've been here for a couple of hours, and I didn't hear anything coming out of your room. Sounds like he doesn't know what to do with a cunt."
Behind gritted teeth, you grind out, "Don't worry about my pussy, bud. You've got yours coming in," and you hold the n as you look at your watch, "30 minutes. Now piss off."
As you stomp away towards your room, the bottle of water all but forgotten, you hear him let out a deep chuckle. He's an asshole. A physically attractive one, sans the face, but still an asshole. You're going to have to get your friend to come over more often if Ghost is going to continue being around with those jacked arms and deliciously tight grey sweats.
Sucking your teeth, you make a mental note to ask your roommate why she gave him a key to your shared flat without asking.
--
A week later, your roommate has Ghost over and you figure it'd be a good time to get some action yourself. You send him a text and in less than 20 minutes, you're letting him in. Hugging him, you tell him to go to the bedroom. But he's not paying attention to you— he's looking directly behind you.
Turning around to look, it's Ghost. Goddamn it. And this time he's shirtless with his arms crossed and a skull mask on. God fucking damn it. Pulling the arm of your friend, he looks down at you and you tell him to go on, that you'll be there soon.
He nods, walking away with one last look at the phantom leaning against your roommate's door. Exhaling a ragged sigh, you turn back to Ghost.
"Can I help you?"
He shakes his head mutely before responding, "No, lovie, but I can help you." You shake your head at his nonsense.
"No. I'm not doing this with you."
You turn to walk away when he speaks again.
"Yer really gonna let him touch you again? He clearly doesn't know what he's doing— Bedroom's silent as a crypt. Even with those glasses he's got on, he can't find what he should be lookin' for."
Insulted for your friend, you face Ghost with a disbelieving look on your face.
"You're not seriously standing here trying to cockblock me. You—" his audacity has you stammering, "You have no idea what I'm like. Maybe I'm just naturally quiet in bed."
Ghost stares at you for a solid minute before he shrugs and goes back to your roommate.
Unbelievable asshole. Why does he have to look so good shirtless, the berk.
--
You start noticing that Ghost is there a couple of hours before your roommate gets there and you'd think it's weird if you weren't too busy being distracted by the fact that he's always taunting you one way or the other. And then one day, you question him on it.
"You do know your girlfriend won't be home until the evening? It's barely 3."
Ghost turns his head from the TV to look at you and grunts.
"Not my girlfriend." That's news to you.
"Then why you spendin' so much time over here? You're gonna have me thinkin' you like spending time in my delightful presence." you banter with a teasing smile.
Ghost continues to stare at you and the heated look in his eyes confuses you but then he turns back to the TV.
"I can't stand ya, ya daft bint."
You pretend you don't hear the muted tenderness in his voice.
--
And on a sunny day, it all comes crashing down. The boys are over again, but this time Ghost is boring holes into the back of your head as you both go into your respective rooms. You're straddling your boy's hips shirtless when you hear your roommate's furious yelling from the other side of the flat and then stomping towards the front door before it slams closed.
After your bedroom door is busted open, the bolt being broken out of the faceplate from the brutal strength behind the force— and you're jumping off the bed and crossing your arms over your exposed chest.
It's Ghost and he's staring directly at your friend on the bed.
"No." He stomps over to grab your friend by his shirt and drags him off the bed and towards the front door before tossing him against it with a nasty-sounding slam.
"Get the fuck out."
Your friend is spluttering when Ghost cuts him off.
"If I see you here again, I'm turnin’ those silly little glasses," and he taps a lens with his finger, "into contacts. Now get the fuck out. I won't repeat myself." And with that, he trips over his own feet running out the door.
You're standing in the living room. eyes are wide in disbelief. What just happened? There's a moment of silence before Ghost breaks it.
"Your roommate won't be coming back today." He walks over to you picks you up to sit you on the kitchen countertop and lifts his mask over his mouth.
"Now. You're going to come on my tongue before I fuck you and personally test out this 'I'm quiet' theory, pet." You look down at him and sigh.
"I think I'm gonna need a new roommate," you lament.
Pulling the gusset of your knickers to the side, he says, "Don't worry your pretty little head over that. I'll be moving in with you. Also, no. You don't have a choice."
He digs his fingers into your thigh and purrs against your skin, “If you find it in you to scream, my real name’s Simon.”
And with the way his usually sharp tongue delicately rubs against your clit, you can't find it in you to argue.
A/N: dreamt of this and it had me in a chokehold.
#call of duty#simon ghost riley#cod#cod mw2#cod mwii#simon ghost riley x reader#simon riley#simon riley x reader#ghost simon riley#simon ghost x reader#simon riley x you#ghost mw2#ghost cod
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hey hey, was wondering if you could do a headcannon for jason and dick when their s/o is sick cause im sick as hell rn and need some comfort <3
I hope you get better anon and I also hope that this gives you something to chuckle at in the meantime.
Jason:
He’s like a mother hen when your sick and it wouldn’t been funny…had you not been sick and forcibly bed bound by him.
‘Jason.’ You groaned. ‘I’m dying.’
Jason looks at you blankly. ‘Hi dying I’m Jason, now take your god damn medicine.’
He takes your recovery more seriously and makes sure that you take your medicine on time when they were needed. And if you were to make things difficult for yourself, he will straddle you if needs be just for you to take medicine that you were upset wasn’t grape flavoured…
Will tuck the blankets right under your chin if you’re feeling cold and if you were still feeling cold, he’ll offer you one of his warmer hoodies to wear in hopes that they’d stop.
He honestly can’t either you sometimes but has to remember that he loves you and that he’d stick by you no matter what, even if you do act like an outraged child when sick.
God sake do not ask him to get you ice cream when you’re sick, he will forbade you from eating that crap. You’re meant to be getting better, not worse.
He even makes you a nice warm soup amongst other foods to help you during your recovery process also.
Jason may seem strict in his methods in taking care of you but he means well and will apologise if he thinks he’s been a bit too much of a dick by sitting bedside and holding your hand, kissing it every so often.
‘I’m sorry if it seems like I’m being harsh chipmunk, I’m only trying to help.’ He’d say.
‘If you’re being sorry for being a dick, then it’s only fair that I say sorry for acting so childish when you’re only trying to help. And I really appreciate you for everything you’ve done for me.’ You’d reply as you both let out a chuckle before you allowed Jason to take care of you without any complaints to be made.
You get better by the end of the week and Jason spoils you by letting you have all the ice cream you could dream of, but please for his sake don’t eat it too fast and get brain freeze.
Dick:
Will let you eat ice cream because how can he say no to your sad, sick face.
Even when sick Dick spoils the hell out of you.
Does not make the situation any better in all honesty.
He’ll probably take more offence that you were sick than yourself as he takes your temperature and tutting.
‘38°?’ Dick says as he looks down at the thermometer and muttering under his breath, ‘Not good.’
You only look at him blankly before sniffling as you cling to your plush frog, unamused. ‘I hate you.’
He’d might even get Hayley to help ‘heal’ you by just letter her be her cutest self and not currently crushing your legs, seeing as how she’s not a little blue pup anymore. she’s yours and Dick’s baby however and you didn’t care because seeing her try to nurse you back to health with her licking never failed to put a smile on your face.
‘Thank you sweetheart Im beginning to feel much better.’ You say as Hayley continued aggressively licking your arms, hands and face.
If you were to tell dick you were cold/still cold, his immediate response was the cuddle you but when you stop him to remind him that your sick, he only shrugs and probably boasts that he’s got great immunity before cuddling you. (Lies utter lies)
Let’s be honest he probably ends up getting sick after you start to recover and demands for you to repay him for taking care of you.
dick is okay at making food but might mutter ‘this isn’t the way it looked when Alfred made it’ under his breath while making you some simple soup before consulting Hayley, who only whimpers and shies away from it.
‘Take out it is then.’ He’d say and tries to take credit for it once it comes, but you see through the bullshit but we’re too sick to say anything about it.
#dc imagine#dc x reader#dc x you#dc fanfic#dc fic#dc comics x reader#dc x y/n#dc fanfiction#jason todd imagines#jason todd x reader#jason todd imagine#jason todd fluff#jason todd fanfic#jason todd fanfiction#jason todd fic#dick grayson x y/n#dick grayson x you#dick grayson imagine#dick grayson imagines#dick grayson x reader#dick grayson fluff#nightwing x y/n#nightwing x you#nightwing fluff#nightwing imagines#nightwing imagine#nightwing x reader#red hood x you#red hood imagine#red hood x reader
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╰┈➤ rafe picking up his drunk girlfriend
warnings: swearing. alcohol, underage drinking.
summary: much to rafe’s dismay, his girlfriend had always been close with the pogues, drinking with them, fishing with them and so on. one particular night, y/n gets a bit too drunk and rafe has to pick her up.
the fire crackled away infront of them as the group chattered amongst themselves, empty beer bottles scattered around behind them. jj and y/n drowned out the others in a drunken attempt to sing some sort of old song, neither knowing the correct words. taking notice of this, the others broke out in hysterics, however this only further egged them on.
y/n sang, or slurred as her friends might say, at the top of her lungs, beginning to twirl around the fire they had made out of rotten wood and pizza boxes. making her way around her friends, she reached out to pope, determined to make him get up and dance.
“you’re wasted y/n, you should sit down” kie called from her place on a tree stump. turning her head, y/n’s face contorted. “you’re wasted y/n, sit down” she mimicked her friend. nevertheless, it was a fact. the pogues knew y/n couldn’t really handle alcohol, it was only in the last few months that she had decided to come out of her shell a bit more. she’d spent the majority of her life sticking to rules, doing as she was told. that was until her close friends from school had convinced her to live out her teenage years in style.
“i-i am not drubk, ‘m having f-fun kie” y/n mumbled, yet the hiccups interrupting her words said otherwise. her friends chuckled at this, allowing her to go on for a little longer. that is until she let out a small scream.
their heads snapped quickly to where y/n was, they would’ve thought she’d disappeared into thin air if it wasn’t for her drunken cries coming from the other side of a large fallen tree. john b, pope and kie jumped out of their places around the fire, attending to their lightweight friend as quickly as possible. jj on the other hand, was also too shitfaced to even realise she’d taken a tumble.
“y/n are you okay?” pope asked, poking his head over the tree to take in the sight of his friend flat on her back, sprawled out on the floor. despite the flowing tears, she managed a thumbs up. “c’mon y/n, that’s two fights you’ve lost with a tree now, when are you gonna learn?” john b mocked while reaching down to help her up.
kie stepped over the tree, also helping y/n up off the floor as she lolled about like deadweight. pope and john b shared a knowing glance as they all pulled y/n back up. once she was up, kiara helped feed her some water, hopefully sobering her up a bit before she went home.
“you know what we’re gonna have to do right? john b?” pope whispered as they stepped away from the girls. to this, john b let out a deep sigh, knowing exactly what they were gonna have to do. “yeah i know” john b grumbled. “who’s gonna do it though? im not, i did it last time.” pope protested quickly.
both boys glanced over to kie, she quickly shook her head however, already knowing what they were going to ask. “no, no way. you can do it this time john b, he almost bit my head off last time i spoke to him.” before john b had anytime to argue, kiara had tossed y/n’s unlocked phone into his hands, looking at him expectantly.
pacing around the fire, john b reluctantly tapped the screen a few times before holding the phone up to his ear and letting it ring. after a few tries, the recipient finally answered the call. “hey baby, you okay?” a raspy voice called out through the phone, earning a small chuckle from pope as he overheard.
“hey rafe..um, it’s john b” he mumbled, knowing how this was going to go. “why the fuck do you have y/n’s phone?” rafe sneered, blood boiling at all the possible situations running through his head. “yeah, i- um, i think you need to come pick her up, she’s a bit wasted and she’s hurt herself.”
overhearing this, y/n’s face contorted, her mind clearing for a second as she realised what was going on. “are you telling my fucking boyfriend on me john b?” she slurred, her voice loud enough for rafe to hear. before john b could get another word in, rafe put the phone down on him. “asshole” he muttered, already dreading rafe’s arrival.
fifteen minutes go by and y/n had been in a huff every single second, she knew rafe would jump at the chance to argue with her friends, so john b calling him to come get her was not the most intelligent idea.
the pogue’s heads turn at the sound of a car engine pulling up not to far from them. sharing looks as they heard a car door slam. y/n jumped at the sound, the dreading feeling gone as excitement to see her baby took over. the leaves behind her rustled and she leaped from the camping chair, just about falling into rafe’s arms. “hiiii babyyy” y/n sang as he helped her back up, stabling her. sparing his angel a quick smile, he turned to narrow his eyes at her friends.
“what the fuck did you give her!” rafe bellowed, waking jj from his wasted slumber. the blonde boy stood up, stalking over to rafe, well..trying to atleast. “who the fuck do you think you are cameron? talking to us like that?” jj growled through gritted teeth, chest heaving. rafe chuckled to himself lowly, squaring up as he did. “you’re fucking lucky she’s here maybank, or i’d have already punched your face into the ground” he retorted.
pope and john b had situated themselves in the middle before jj could lunge at him. “heyyy! h-hey! stop it! you guys gotta accept that i love you bothhhh! your my b-boyfriend and these g-guys are my besties!” y/n sang from besides rafe, throwing an arm around both rafe and jj. attempting to de-escalate the situation.
rafe’s nostrils flared as he took a step back, throwing a glare in the pogue’s direction before leading his girlfriend away. “bye guys! see you so-ooon!” she yelled while following rafe to the car.
stepping into the drivers side, rafe gathered himself for a second, not wanting to lash out at her for something so small. releasing a harsh breath, he turned to her, intent on lecturing her about drinking so much when his eyes met her puppy dog gaze. his thought out words suddenly crumbled away. sighing, he intertwined his free hand with hers and placed a soft kiss on her knuckles. “seatbelt” rafe ordered, his tone teetering on harsh. “yes sir!” she giggled before doing what he asked.
as they drove, rafe felt the anger in his veins dissipating as she leaned her head on his shoulder. “rafe?” she mumbled. humming in response, he glanced at her before turning back to the road. “do you think you could make me a sandwich when we get back? pretty pleaseeee” y/n pleaded, half expecting him to say no.
“of course baby, anything for you”
#dom!rafe#rafe cameron x reader#soft!rafe cameron#rafe cameron#outerbanks rafe#rafe cameron x fem!reader#rafe x y/n#rafecameron#obx#outer banks
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not sure if you’re taking requests buttttt poly!marauders but they’re kinda overprotective bfs and she sneaks out to go to a party with marlene or her girlfriends but they find out and show up at the party 💞
Hi don't worry, I am! I think it should show on the requests page linked in my pinned post, but please let me know if it doesn't, I'm still figuring tumblr out and often mess up! I hope this is alright honey, I tried to go for the angst but honestly the more I write the more suspicious I become of my inability to write our boys being anything other than soft with reader! I'll try to work on it but in the meantime I hope you enjoy this <33
cw: mention of concussion symptoms, including nausea, nothing intense or even very descriptive though
poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 906 words
You’re aware that the internet had said you were supposed to avoid bright lights, loud sounds, and movement when Remus had looked it up after an unfortunate fall that morning. Just like you’re aware that when your boyfriends left you at your apartment a few hours ago, they’d been trusting you to follow those instructions. But you’re also aware that the internet had led you all to believe your concussion was mild, and that Marlene only has one birthday a year. Damned if you were going to miss it.
So yeah, you feel a bit queasy as your eyes struggle to track the movement and voices around you, but that’s nothing compared to the contentment of being with your friends. Lily has assigned herself the role of your caretaker, checking that you’re alright every few minutes and shushing anyone who raises their voice too loud around you, and Marlene has attached herself to your side, telling you how much she appreciates you in between beer-scented hiccups.
“And you’re so nice to come tonight,” she’s saying now, brushing her fingers clumsily but sweetly through your hair. “I can’t tell you how much—uh oh.”
You have a premonition of ill fate even before the hair on the back of your neck stands up, and you follow Marelene’s unfocused gaze to the curly-haired boy coming towards you.
“Happy birthday, Marls,” he says, his smile only appearing slightly strained, before he turns to you. “Hey, sweetheart. Let’s go home, yeah?”
“Jamie,” you say quietly, and Lily and Marlene leave the couch to give you as much privacy as a party allows. “What are you doing here?”
“Everyone here’s been posting, and you’re in the background of half the pictures.” His smile slips as he crouches in front of you, disappointment in his eyes. “You know you’re supposed to be resting,” he says softly. “C’mon, let’s go.”
You’re glad that he’s here instead of Remus or Sirius, who surely wouldn’t be as careful about not embarrassing you. James is less stern than the others, and though you feel a bit guilty for doing so, you press that to your advantage.
“I haven’t drank anything but water,” you say. “That’s gotta count for something, right? And look.” You brush your hair behind your ear, showing him the earplugs you’d put in before arriving. “I’m being careful, see? I’m alright, Jamie, and it’s Marlene’s birthday. Let’s just stay, both of us, okay?”
James looks nearly apologetic. “Remus and Sirius are waiting in the car.”
You groan, but allow James to pull you to your feet, waving goodbye to your friends with a pout. He supports more of your weight than you really need him to as he walks you outside, where Remus sits in the drivers’ seat of the idling car. Dread settles, along with dull resignation, in your stomach.
Sirius is in the backseat and you hope James will get in first, but he lifts you in before him, placing you between two of your three upset boyfriends. You can’t look at any of them, allowing James to buckle your seatbelt for you as an oppressive silence, worse than the bass that had brutalized your head inside Marlene’s, stretches out between you.
True to form, Sirius is the first to breach it.
“What the hell were you thinking?”
You sigh. “I’m sorry.”
“You have a concussion! All you had to do was stay home and rest. That website said that lights and loud music—say, the sort of things you’d find at a party—would only make things worse.”
Normally, you’d argue with him. No matter how hopeless it seems, no matter how obvious it is that Sirius is going to win, you can always meet him head-on and at least make your point. But tonight, with your head throbbing and something about your very being feeling fundamentally wrong, you can’t muster up the energy.
“I know,” you say.
Sirius goes silent at the acquiescence in your voice, and he looks at Remus in the rear-view mirror, unsure of how to proceed. James puts a hand on your knee, a tiny gesture of comfort even though he’s upset with you too. The motivation that had driven you to Marlene’s and through the party is wearing off, and you feel suddenly, embarrassingly teary.
“Do you feel sick?” Remus speaks for the first time, and though his voice is calm, the absence of his usual terms of endearment leave no doubt that you’re still in trouble.
You clear your throat of the tears that are trying to clog it. “A little.”
“We’re bringing you to our place to rest.” It’s not a question. “We can go get some things from your place tomorrow, but tonight you can just wear our stuff. Think you can eat something before bed?”
It’s worse that he’s being kind to you. You’d been prepared for a lecture, but being taken care of is worse. It brings the vulnerability you’ve felt since the frightening pain and dizziness of that morning to the surface, and you keep your face turned towards your lap as your eyes become wet. “Yeah, I think so,” you say, and your voice cracks slightly when you add, “I’m sorry.”
Sirius makes a sympathetic, pained sound from beside you, and James abandons all pretense of anger, tucking your head under his chin.
“We’ll talk about it later,” Remus says, a bit more gently. “For now, just try to relax.”
#poly!marauders#poly!marauders x reader#poly!marauders angst#protective marauders#poly!marauders fanfiction#poly!marauders fanfic#poly!marauders fic#poly!marauders imagine#poly!marauders scenario#poly!marauders x you#poly!marauders x y/n#poly!marauders drabble#poly!marauders oneshot#marauders era#the marauders#marauders fanfiction#marauders fanfic#marauders fic#marauders#remus lupin#remus lupin x reader#sirius black#sirius black x reader#james potter#james potter x reader
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don't call me daddy II
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x little!f!reader
Word count: 3,160
Summary : In a world where littles are openly themselves, they volunteer to help and be helped by willing caregivers. In spite of himself, Bucky finds himself stuck with one and to keep the nagging away, he has to learn how to be around her with everything that that entails.
Warnings: Bucky is mean, a couple of insults, mistreatment of age regressed reader, manipulation, crying, mentions of the s-word, mention of the r-word, Bucky's PTSD & nightmares.
A/N: I'm sorry I breathe pain but I love you:"💜x(also if you have any suggestions for these two just let me know). please enjoy💜
~
Before Mrs. Morrison arrived, Bucky had made sure to make her a proper breakfast for the first time since she's been at his house.
She couldn't need for anything today.
Showered: check
Fed: check
Properly dressed: check
“And then what?” He asked, closing the peanut butter jar.
“Then we pour the warm milk,” she instructed with a soft smile, helping Bucky prepare her meal.
“I thought you were supposed to make this with cold milk.”
“That’s just what the box says, but we’re not gonna listen,” she whispered as if scared to hurt the cereal box’s feelings.
Bucky chuckled despite himself and finally, unintentionally allowed her a glimpse of something other than a frown.
“You’re pretty,” she told him with a dreamy smile, already blushing at the fact that she made him smile.
“Hey!” Bucky glared again as if he's just been insulted.
“Sorry,” she huffed, looking at her breakfast being stirred.
“You better be.” Bucky didn’t know why he acted so defensive or why he wanted her to be sorry.
It was like there was something inside of him repelling anything nice or sweet that could be thrown his way as if it was a contagious virus.
“Eat your breakfast so we can fix that hair of yours. Can’t believe you managed to mess it up again,” Bucky told her, walking away from the kitchen.
“Bucky not gonna eat?” She tilted her head in question.
“Mind your own business,” Bucky threw rudely, still avoiding her attempts at caring for him.
She huffed again as she watched him sit before the TV, pretending to be focused on anything but her presence in his apartment.
She had to take matters into her own hands.
Ever so slowly, she rounded the kitchen counter and slightly opened the same cabinet Bucky had opened to get her a bowl out of.
Thankfully, she found one other bowl. Twisting her hand side-ways, she pulled it out of the small opening she made in the cabinet door in slow motion in order not to alarm Bucky.
And while he drowned in his own thoughts, she started preparing him a similar corn flakes bowl so he could have breakfast too.
On the other side of the room, Bucky’s mind was attacking him with thoughts.
What was he going to do during those three months? He’d already had his face flushed and his heart beat going a million per second when he had to give her a shower yesterday.
He couldn’t believe the first time he got to see a naked lady after 70 years, it had to be her. A lady who wasn’t really a lady. He felt dirty. Like he shouldn’t have been doing that.
She sounded so young but looked old enough and it messed with his head. How many more times was he supposed to do this again during those three months?
“Here, Bucky,” she cut off his thoughts, carefully bringing forth a bowl of corn flakes in warm milk with honey.
“Why didn’t you eat?” Bucky rolled his eyes, thinking she probably wanted him to feed her now.
It was probably her chance while he was doing everything she wanted so that she wouldn’t rat him out to Mrs. Morrison.
“It’s for Bucky,” she explained, setting the bowl before him on the floor.
“Who said I wanted to eat that goo?” Bucky glared at her for acting like she knew what he needed.
“It’s delicious, I promise. Give it a try.” She held a half full spoon up to him.
Bucky was still as a statue, looking at her with a frown. He was too angry to even blink.
“I. Don’t. Need. Your. Help.” He seethed through his teeth.
“I know. But I wanted to share.” Her shoulders slumped, as she put the spoon back in the bowl.
Bucky felt a tiny bit remorseful. No one’s made him food since his mom and internally, he was kind of grateful.
But of course, he wouldn’t let it show.
“Fine, gimme that,” he snapped, taking the bowl off the floor and shoving a spoon in his mouth.
It was actually good, homely and soft enough to chew but not too saggy. Something about the taste of corn and the honeyed milk made Bucky warm inside.
As Bucky chewed on his food, she ran back to the kitchen counter, picking up her bowl too and coming back to sit next to Bucky on the floor.
“Do you like it?” She asked before slipping her spoon in her mouth.
“I don’t hate it.” He shrugged, refusing to give her the pleasure of being right.
If only he knew she never cared about being right.
“I’m happy you like it.” She beamed.
“I didn’t say that.”
“Fine.” She pouted, swirling her spoon around without eating.
Bucky felt weird, almost like he felt bad. After all, she’d warned him about the visit and practically saved his butt from Sam and most importantly, his therapist.
“Why didn’t you put peanut butter in mine?” Bucky nudged her with a question, refusing to utter a clear apology for his harshness.
“Bucky doesn’t like peanut butter on cornflakes,” she whispered, still facing down and moving her spoon around the bowl.
“And how did you know that?” Bucky raised his eyebrows because really, how did she know that? Do they give her a file too?
“You said “ugh” while adding peanut butter to my cornflakes,” she explained simply.
Huh.
So she was observant and kind of… smart.
“Eat your food,” Bucky said, holding the tip of her spoon to stop her from twirling it.
He thought he used a gentler tone but apparently that wasn’t the case because she still looked melancholic.
He didn’t have patience for this, for fuck’s sake!
Bad word, his mind replied.
So she was inside of his head now too?!
“Ugh, what’s wrong?” Bucky asked, not sure why he did. Because he didn’t care.
He didn’t.
“Why do you hate me?” Her small voice asked, sounding sadder than he’d ever heard her sound before.
Her question surprised him and he stopped chewing.
Bucky frankly had no idea why or if he hated her. He’d told himself he hated her on her first night here, but that was just because she invaded his space and overwhelmed him by doing everything he wasn’t used to.
But now that he had to think about it, did he actually hate her? The answer was no and Bucky knew it.
“I don’t hate you,” Bucky murmured, setting his bowl down and picking up hers.
“You just confuse me very much.” Bucky held her spoon up to her lips.
She looked at him and the spoon with so much hope that Bucky felt absolutely shitty for pretending to be nicer to her for the sake of today’s visit.
On the other hand, she couldn’t believe Bucky was offering her the spoon, feeding her.
But Bucky didn’t care. He just needed this to go well, and he wasn’t about to let her ruin it because she wanted to have a long face today.
“Confuse Bucky? Why? Doll never lies,” she said, her tone sincere and eyes begging Bucky to believe and trust her.
Yeah, Bucky felt terrible.
He decided that if he kept answering her with the truth that might take some of the guilt he was feeling away.
“It’s not about lies,” Bucky replied, nearing the spoon to her lips more so she could eat.
She complied and took the spoon into her mouth, wanting to hear more.
“It’s that this is all new to me. This kind of stuff never existed in the 40s.” Bucky shrugged, getting another spoon ready.
She ate the cereal obediently, chewing quickly so she can ask a question.
“But Bucky doesn’t hate me?” She looked at him like her life depended on his answer.
“No, Bucky doesn’t hate you,” Bucky chuckled at how cute she looked talking with food in her mouth, but quickly controlled himself.
“Bucky just needs time to get used to everything.” She realized out loud, making Bucky swallow apologetically.
Has he just been understood for the first time in years by someone other than Steve?
It was the truth. Bucky needed time to get used to this and her. The only lies were that his actions weren’t because he really cared and that he didn’t want to get used to this or her.
He tried hard to ignore the feeling the mere action of feeding her gave him, too. Taking care of someone like that? It felt good for some odd, unknown reason.
Bucky nodded in reply, continuing to feed her, “yeah, I need time.”
“I promise I’ll give you time, Bucky. I won’t annoy you no more.” Her eyes were genuine as humanly possible when she cradled his metal hand as it held her bowl and Bucky felt a pang in his chest.
How could anyone be so patient and pure, especially these days? He couldn’t believe she still had it in her to consider how he felt in spite of the way he’s treated her.
She must know nothing about him or his past.
A knock on the door pulled Bucky out of his head and he swallowed nervously, putting the bowl down and standing up to answer the door.
She took her bowl and his and quickly moved to sit on the couch, knowing it would look better that way.
She was going to do her best to make everything easier on and for Bucky from now on and for the rest of her time with him.
~
After Mrs. Morrison has greeted them both and privately talked to Bucky in the kitchen, she took Doll to the bedless bedroom, wanting to make sure she really was okay.
“Listen, doll, don’t feel like you have to do this. If Bucky is unwelcoming, you can come with me right now,” she reassured the girl, never wanting her to go through an unpleasant experience.
“I’m okay, Mrs. Morrison, I promise.” She smiled.
“Are you sure? Because I know he’s not the nicest I’ve ever met,” Mrs. Morrison joked, making the younger girl laugh.
Of course, she had no idea that with Bucky’s enhanced hearing, he could hear them.
He really didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but he couldn’t help it.
“I’m sure. Bucky is not evil, he’s just misunderstood,” she told her, her tone sure.
Now that had Bucky intentionally eavesdropping. What did she just say about him?
“Is he now?” Mrs. Morrison smiled.
“Yes, I swear! Even by himself.” She defended.
“And how is that?” the woman was genuinely interested in making sure her girl wasn’t being abused.
“Big me read about him in the library before. He’s not a bad man. He’s a hero, Mrs. Morrison, but he doesn’t know it. He doesn’t think he deserves nice things but he does. He deserves all the nice things!”
Bucky was wordless at her speech. Was that how she really thought of him?
“But is he good to you, doll?” Mrs. Morrison asked.
This was supposed to be the question he worried most about being answered, but Bucky was still frozen, trying to recover from the way her previous words hit him.
“Yes, he’s good to me. Even got me a new stuffie!” She told the older woman excitedly without even taking a second to think about her answer, completely omitting the fact that she practically begged him to get her that stuffed animal.
“Oh, really? I didn’t see it!” Mrs. Morrison was starting to feel good about this, thinking that maybe she’d misjudged Bucky.
“I keep it in my bag when I wake up because I don’t wanna lose it. It’s a white wolf, just like Bucky!”
“Just like Bucky?” the woman frowned in confusion.
“It’s the name Bucky was given in Wakanda,” she explained.
Bucky felt warmth spread throughout his chest for the first time in decades. She knew all that?
“You’ve really done your homework huh?” Mrs. Morrison teased, getting up from the floor with Doll.
“Big me likes history and research… and cute guys,” she giggled with a shy shrug, making Bucky huff half a chuckle.
“Alright then, I will leave you with this cute guy and I’ll come back next month, okay? But until then, I want you to promise to take care of yourself, doll.”
“I will, Mrs. Morrison,” she promised politely, giving the woman a tight hug, “thank you for coming.”
Bucky closed the door behind the older lady, relieved that the visit went well. He let out a breath he was holding and stood with his back to her, unsure about what he should do.
“Bucky,” she called out.
“What’s wrong now?” Bucky huffed as he turned around.
He felt bad when he saw her soft smile reaching her eyes at the sight of him just looking at her, but he couldn’t let it get to him.
He did what he had to do to save his ass.
She said a lot of nice things about him, but that didn’t mean he was going to yield to this unwelcomed, unwanted situation that Sam’s gotten him in.
He didn’t need this. He wasn’t the one to start all this.
“Do you wanna draw together?” She played with her fingers nervously.
“I don’t know how to do that. You draw, okay?” Bucky said, showing no interest as he started putting his shoes on.
“Bucky leaving?” Her voice was chocked with held up tears.
“Yes.” He grabbed his keys, trying his best not to look at her dejected face.
“But—”
“You didn’t seriously think I would magically start wanting to spend time with you, did you?”
She involuntarily let out a tiny gasp, hurt at the fact that he just manipulated her for the one reason that is Mrs. Morrison’s visit.
“You gonna start crying again?” He made fun of her as he pulled his gloves on, not in the mood for the public stares.
“Bucky!” she whispered, tears dripping down her cheeks.
“Don’t wait up if you wanna fall asleep.” With that, Bucky slammed the door behind him, locking it and leaving her alone.
She just fell on the couch, sobbing as her fists grabbed at her own knees.
How stupid was she? He’s already told her he never wanted her. Why would he suddenly want to spend time with her? Just because he fed her a couple of spoons? Stupid.
Maybe she should’ve acted exactly the way he’d expected her to from the beginning. Maybe Bucky was right, there was nothing she could do to help. She wasn’t here to fix anything. Her presence was just a thing Bucky had to put up with, nothing more.
~
As Bucky walked down the street, he wanted to bang his forehead on the nearest wall. Why didn’t he just tell her he was going to get them food like he actually was? Why did he have to be mean and rude?
He didn’t want to get her hopes up, he knew that. But that certainly wasn’t the best way to let her know. He could’ve talked to her and she would’ve understood. She was smart and far from a ‘retard’ like he’d so unfairly called her before.
But no, he couldn’t get too close. He wouldn’t let her involve him in whatever she was doing.
Whatever. Bucky didn’t want to think about her or her feelings.
Or about the way her eyebrows knot when she’s about to cry... Or the tremble of her lower lip before the very first tear falls out…
Damn it, he fucked up.
Bad word, she would say…
Bucky chuckled, shaking his head in defeat as he walked towards the nearest grocery store he knew of.
~
I'm sorry.
I’m. Sorry.
I am sorry
Bucky quietly practiced before his closed door as if it was the hardest thing he’s ever had to do.
He needed to make this right. It really wasn’t her fault that they were making him do those things.
She was nothing but sweet to him despite everything he’s done to and with her.
When he was ready enough to open the door, however, her eyes weren’t on him like he’d expected and wanted them to be.
In fact, they weren’t on anything because she was asleep.
Bucky sighed as he dumbly waved the pizza box above her sleeping body.
She didn’t have lunch because she was spending time with Mrs. Morrison and now she was asleep without dinner either because of him and his stupidity.
“Hey,” Bucky called softly, well, softer than he’s ever talked to her.
She didn’t answer, pretending to be fast asleep with her face buried in the corner of Bucky’s couch.
He couldn’t see anything but her stuffed ducky looking back at him as if in blame.
Oh.
She was back to hugging her old stuffed animal. Not the white wolf Bucky’s gotten her.
Bucky understood now that he’d messed up big time. She clearly didn’t angelically forgive him without an apology this time.
He carelessly threw the unopened pizza on the kitchen counter, taking his jacket off and his place on the floor. He had no appetite now.
He turned on the TV on silent and turned the lights off before letting out one long sigh.
She felt so bad because Bucky hasn’t eaten anything all day either, but she was too sad with him to do anything about it. Bucky didn’t want her to care for him, so she was going to finally listen to his wishes.
When Bucky woke up from his nightmares that night, she had to continue pretending like it didn’t wake her up too.
She squeezed her eyes shut and continued to bury her face in the cushion despite herself.
No lullabies were sung and no water or tissues were offered.
It was just Bucky lying alone on his floor again, sweaty, traumatized and regretful as one could be.
She heard him moving around and apparently he was dressing because a minute later he left the apartment.
When she peeked through the blinds, Bucky was jogging down the street.
It was 4 am and she knew she couldn’t pretend to be asleep forever, but she’ll continue trying for now.
~
When Bucky came back from his 3-hour run, he had finally calmed down and he had a solid apology ready on the tip of his tongue this time.
He was going to make this right and he was going to do it now.
“Bucky.” He heard her panicked voice call his name and instantly fell into a protective mode he didn't know existed within his system.
“I had an accident.”
Bucky followed her tearful eyes down and when he looked at her bloodied PJ pants, Bucky was panicked too.
He's seen a lot of blood, shed a lot of blood, but the sight of blood on her clothes freaked him out more than anything he has ever seen before.
“What happened?!”
part III
~
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