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mvltisstuff · 11 months

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Could i request for a Conrad fisher X reader where reader has a younger sibling who gives her a hard time and her parents favour her younger sibling more. It's the reader's bday on the same day as belly's and her family doesn't get her anything and they don't bother with an excuse either and say they don't really care abt her so it doesn't matter. So Conrad comforts her later and if u don't mind u could include some smut at the end?

(this is my situation rn lololol but without Conrad to comfort me😭)

matilda - c.f

summary: request

conrad fisher x reader

a/n: i’m so sorry love, sorry this is a few days late but you are so loved and appreciated no matter what, hope this makes you happy today <3

it’s been a recurring theme for most of y/n’s life. the overheard quotes about the older sibling had eventually become a reality. they didn’t even wait for y/n to try and live up to them. instead, they just accepted that their daughter wasn’t as good as the rest of their children.

as upsetting as it is, kids experience it too much. y/n experiences it every day, so when she realized it wasn’t normal, that’s when it started to hurt more every year.

this day was supposed to be different. she was so excited, turning 18 and finally being an adult. free of her parents if she wanted to be. she thought that maybe, just maybe, her parents would think of her for a day, and make it about it. alas, the second she woke up and walked into the kitchen, y/n’s hopes were shut down.

“y/n, can you take y/b/n to practice? i’m going out with sharon today,” her mom said, barely even looking at her.

“uh, i’m leaving in a bit, remember?” she speaks, trying to sound as polite as possible. “the fishers invited me over for today.”

“hon, we get it,” her dad talks next, peering up over his glasses and newspaper of the town. “but, to some point, it’s just another day. just do what your mother asked.”

y/n looks at her little siblings at the table, messing around and receiving no repercussions. she still remembers when that was her. playing with her parents, happier than she ever was again. she loves her siblings to death, but she loves herself, too. y/n deserves more than she’s been given, so she confides. she drives her brother to whatever practice, wishing him luck as he whispers a happy birthday, then jumping out of the car to see his friends.

she’s already dressed up for the party for belly. the fishers had welcomed her with open arms, even having decorations and sweets for her on the table. everyone figured she’d have something going on at home, but oh, they were so wrong. she didn’t receive a single birthday message from the people who gave her life, so did it matter? even if she didn’t believe it, at least the fishers knew she was worth it. she was dressed in one of her best outfits, a simple dress with small flowers printed over. she had small wedges and her hair was done neatly. she felt pretty, she is pretty.

she walked into the house, belly hearing the door open first. she skips toward, engulfing y/n in a huge hug. “y/n!” she squeals. “happy birthday!”

“oh, belly! happy birthday to you, you look so cute!”

“are you kidding? your man’s gonna go wild when he sees you!” she whispers, making y/n blush toward the end.

“belly, stop!” she nudges. “he’s not my man… yet.”

they giggle together before moving back into the kitchen where y/n greets susannah and laurel, along with the rest of the boys. conrad stands up first, in a heartbeat. he walks over, almost lifting y/n off the ground in a hug.

“hey! happy birthday!” he tells her, excitedly as he pulls away. jeremiah comes piling in next, saying his words to the person he considers a sister.

“didn’t y/m/n have anything planned?” susannah asked from the pure kindness in her heart.

“oh,” y/n mutters. “we, uh, we did something yesterday.”

conrad can tell when y/n lies. he can read her like a book at this point. he’s spent so long fanboying over her that he knows what she’s feeling. when she’s sad, excited, pissed, he knows. it pulls at his heart when he can sense the disappointment in her voice. he starts to get more alarmed with every drink she takes throughout the day. she’s not even a big drinker, never really taking an offer. now he’s positive somethings wrong.

if y/n’s parents didn’t care about her, they don’t care if she drinks, right? she’s with her friends, she’s allowed to. plus. it’ll take the edge off of the internal wounds her parents have left her with. her feelings on the whole matter start to disintegrate for a while, until belly’s cake comes out and is handed to her. it’s so nicely done, perfect detail and so much love. they put time into her cake and party, and y/n can’t help the jealousy rising up. she vividly remembers every one of her younger siblings birthdays. all of them having their friends and a party, while y/n was just locked in her room on her birthday. the presents and the cheesy grins from everyone were overwhelming every year. she couldn’t help but think about what it could be like with her real family. maybe they could love her as much as she deserves, but in reality, they won’t. they can, but they chose not to, which hurts even more.

y/n stumbles around on the balcony, around people while carefully savoring every last drop of whatever is in her can. she’s probably had too many, but she doesn’t care. it’s almost like it’s reversed itself now. she watches belly open all of her presents and receive hugs and kisses, and the lump in her throat becomes thicker. she thinks of the alcohol as her enemy now, just bringing back the thoughts in her sober mind.

it’s not until everyone hears the clicking of y/n’s heels on the pavement that they notice her walking away. her hand is swiping away the loose tears and everyone looks at conrad. if there’s anyone y/n wants to see, it’s him. they’ve been in love for so long, it’s almost painful to watch. as she walks away, blurry vision from the alcohol and the tears, she tries to grab another can from the box before a hand stops her.

“i don’t think that’s a good idea,” conrad says, gently taking it out of her hand and landing it back in the box.

“oh, great. more fuckin’ judgment,” she retorts, making conrad’s face contort.

“hey, what’s going on? you’ve been off all day.”

“i am, perfectly fine,” y/n slurs. conrad places a hand on her shoulder, and takes them to sit on the steps. his arm is wrapped around her, the other one gripping her hand.

“i know you’re not. it’s ok to not be ok,” he looks at her nose scrunch and her cheeks turn red again. “hey, hey, don’t cry, you’re alright.”

“no,” she weeps out, putting her head in her hands. “i’m a mess! i don’t know what to do, i cant make it any better and i’ve been trying for 14 fucking years!”

“hold on,” he keeps his voice low. “what do you mean?”

“my parents don’t give a shit. they haven’t since y/b/n was born and they didn’t even bother about me anymore,” conrad pulls her into his arms, leaning back as her teardrops soak into his shirt. “i didn’t do anything for this, and belly’s being loved unconditionally without having to fight for it. and i feel like a bitch getting upset over it but-“

“absolutely not. don’t say that ever again. you don’t deserve anything they’re giving you. anything they’ve said to you is a fucking lie. i know who you are. you’re the most perfect, beautiful person i’ve ever met, inside and out. you don’t have to prove anything to them, because they don’t deserve your amazingness,” he speaks to her. it’s nothing but the truth, and nothing he would ever hesitate to say. “and i will spend forever trying to prove to you that you’re nothing but beautiful a beautiful person.”

y/n looks up at him, only bursting into more tears as he laughs a bit. “oh, my god, conrad. i love you, so much. i know i’m drunk but i mean it more than anything.” she’s felt nothing like she does now. she’s never had someone accept her so quickly and with so much appreciation. she feels like she can do nothing but cry and just love on him.

“i’m glad,” he begins again. “because i love you, too. no matter what your parents say or do. they don’t define you.”

and in this moment, for the first time in a long time, y/n knows someone loves her. and he’s not just saying it for comfort. she doesn’t need her parents to be loved. if they can’t do that, there will forever be someone out there who loves her just as much. she knows she’s enough, and that’s enough.

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carlgrimesenthusiast · 10 months

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saviour! reader x carl where he’s got a huge crush on her and thinks she’s soooo hot so when the two find themselves alone, and she makes a suggestive comment towards him, he begs her to have sex with him

we’re supposed to hate each other…

warnings: swearing, smut.

a/n: i decided to make this into an actual fic instead of just short couple of paragraphs. plus i haven’t written a fic in a long time! i also wrote in capitalisation and didn’t make the writing smaller, thought i would try it out.

also, i made reader negans daughter so it would fit to the title, but everything else is the same!

You heard someone knocking on the door from the other side of the door. “Come in.” You yelled, rolling your eyes. Someone always had to interrupt whilst you were reading a book.

“Alright, pumpkin. Get up, we’re going to Alexandria.” Your father said, after opening the door. You love going to Alexandria, mostly because of a special someone always being there whilst your father went off taking supplies from everyone. You and Carl were supposed to hate each other, at least that’s what you thought.

Whenever you saw Carl, you get butterflies in your stomach but your ignored them. Even if you were supposedly dating, would it really work out? Your fathers hate each other and even thought hate is a strong word, they really do hate each other. You wouldn’t blame Rick, Carls dad, you knew what kind of person your dad was but that didn’t change the fact that you still love him.

“Fine.” You abruptly sat up, removing the blankets off of you and leaving the marked up book onto the bed side table. “When are we leaving?” You questioned, taking your jacket and putting it on.

“Now, all the trucks are outside all ready.” Your father said, waiting for you to hurry up.

“Well, I’m ready so let’s go.” Negan nodded before turning around, opening the door wider and letting you leave first before closing the door and locking it.

You made your way outside, walking past all the workers and taking quick glances at them. You felt bad for them but weren’t they being kept safe? It shouldn’t be that bad, it’s way better then being left outside with all those walkers lurking around. If I were them, I’d prefer to be kept inside, fed and being able to sleep all safely, well mostly safe…

You boarded the car with you dad, not being bothered to buckle your seatbelt because who else would be driving on the road apart from the Saviours? You and Negan made small talk, a large quantity of it being what we would take when we get there and if your dad was going to stir up even more hatred.

You arrived outside the gate of Alexandria, you waited for the Alexandrians to open the gate before all the vehicles made their way inside.

You jumped out the car happily, you loved being here. You honestly wish you were here instead of the Sanctuary. The houses and the trees and the bright sun, everything about it here was beautiful. You were brought out of your thoughts when a certain someone made their way towards you.

“Hey, Y/n, haven’t seen you in ages.” Carl said, hands in his pockets whilst he looked down at you with his eyes squinted from the sun.

“I saw you like last week…” You had an obvious look on his face, did he miss me or something? You smiled at the thought of Carl missing you.

“What you smiling about?” Carl questioned, your smile immediately dropped.

“Nothing.” You folded your arms across your chest, “now, show me something that I might be interested in.” Last week when you came to Alexandria, you met up with Carl again and you told him that next time you’re here, he should show you all the things he found for you that you could be interested in having.

“Alright, I’ll lead the way. It’s in my bedroom, by the way.” Carl nodded before leading the way, you were both stopped by someones voice.

“Darling, where you going?” Your fathers voice boomed out, you turned around to see your dad standing there with the Saviours carrying supplies back to the trucks.

“I’m going with Carl, he’s offering me things he thinks I might like.” You shouted, loud enough for Negan to hear since he was quite far.

“Alright, be back in 10 minutes!” He shouted back, you nodded and held your thumb up to show that you will be back.

“I’ve got some things that you will definitely like to have, hopefully.” Carl whispered the last part to himself, thinking that you couldn’t hear him, but you did.

Carl opened the door to his house and let you enter, you were shocked. Your face didn’t display it but your mind was thinking otherwise. The furniture, the carpet, the lights, the living room. Everything about it is so homely, exactly like it was before the world went to shit.

“Everything’s in my room, come on.” Carl shut the door behind him and led the way upstairs. He opened the door to his bedroom, there was one poster in his room and a ton of shit on his bed. That’s what he was offering, a ton of comics that you wondered where he found them, video games, books, a paint set…in prestige condition as well. You seriously needed to know where Carl found this stuff.

“I want the comics.” You said before making your way to the comics, picking it up from his bed and flicking through it.

“That’s my second favourite.” Carl pointed out, closing the door behind him and walking to stand beside you.

“Oh, well, then I’m taking it.” You smiled, “it’s so hot in here.” You fanned your face before taking your jacket off and placing it on the chair that was in Carls bedroom.

“Be careful, there’s some weird scenes in that one. That’s why it’s my favourite.” Carl joked, you chuckled slightly.

“So what, like sexual stuff?” You asked, he nodded. “Let’s recreate them.” You joked as well. Carl stayed quiet, not knowing how to react. His mind went to other places…he couldn’t help but think about you and him recreating those scenes… “Carl?” You nudged him, bringing him out of his thoughts.

“Yeah?” He breathed out, a very obvious rose pink blush spread across his face. “Do you really want to recreate those?” Carl blushed.

“Do you?” You looked at him, he breathed in before nodding.

“I mean, we only have like 5 minutes left…maybe another time.” You glanced down at your watch.

“No!” Carl startled you, your eyes widening at the sudden burst. “I mean, 5 minutes is enough.”

“Are you sure? What if my dad comes barging in the room and sees us?” You feared.

“He won’t, we can be quick.” You looked at Carl unsure, you felt your panties starting to stick to you. “Unless you totally want to, I’m not forcing you. In fact, let’s just forget about what I said. You wanted the comics, here you can have them.” Carl reassured you, he didn’t want to force you to do anything you didn’t like.

You found it cute how he was talking so fast, almost like he was nervous. The thought of Carl missing you and being nervous about you made you wet.

“Alright, let’s go back outside. I bet your dads waitin-“ You cut Carl off by grabbing his face and smashing his lips against yours. He held his hands over yours, you let go off his lips with a deep breath.

“You said we’ll be quick, right!?” You were already removing your shirt, Carl kissed you again before taking taking his own shirt off revealing his body to you. You gasped, running your hands along his body, feeling his light muscles coming out.

You laid Carl down onto the bed, sitting on his lap. He unclasped your bra from behind for you and took id off. He stared at your boob, mouth agape. “Can I?” He looked up at you, needy.

“Of course.” That’s all you needed to hear before his lips wrapped around your nipples. “Fuck.” You breathed under your breathe, tugging onto Carls hair.

Carl let go with a ‘pop’, you stood back up removing your jeans along with your panties whilst Carl did the same, removing his boxers. You straddled Carl again, wrapping your arms around his neck. You pulled him in, your lips made its way to his neck.

“Please, please.” Carl begged, you probably only had about 2 minutes left so you had to be quick.

Carl slowly felt your pussy, “Shit.” he was harder then ever now, he needed you wrapped around him so badly. He slowly aligned himself with your seeping hole. He slowly thrusted into you, letting you get used to the feeling.

“Carl.” You moaned, his arms wrapped around your waist, bringing you closer and kissing your neck. You whimpered, feeling Carl sucking on your neck.

“Fuck, next time I see you, I’m gonna take it nice and slow with you. Treat you real nicely.” He groaned, you rolled your hips in sync with Carls thrust.

You felt yourself coming close, “Shit baby, you feel so good.” Carl praised, his praises brought you closer. You bit your lip to suppress your moans.

“Fuck.” You held onto Carl so tightly as you came, Carl kept going to help you through your orgasm. You felt Carl release inside of you.

After you were out of the haze, you began to get redress. You retouched yourself, fixing your hair making sure it looked like it did before, fixing your clothing and soothing your hand over it to fix the creases. “I’m sorry this wasn’t quite the best ever, but I promise you when you come back I will treat you even better.” Carl held your hands within his, kissing each knuckle.

“This was the best carl.” You reassured him, “i’ll see you later.” You giggled, you gave him a quick kiss on the cheek before you and Carl made your way outside.

“There you are kid, I was getting worried.” Your dad said, folding his arms and a relieved look on his face.

“Sorry.” You giggled, you got into the car with your dad. Before leaving, you waved at Carl smiling so much.

“Did Carl not have anything good?” Negan asked.

“Nope” You popped the ‘p’.

“Why’re you smiling so much? Never seen you smile this much before.”

“No reason.” You looked back outside the window, he didn’t need to know the reason why you were.

a/n: i got lazy at the end :(( i’m sorry about that, i hope you enjoyed nonetheless! this is the longest fic i have ever written, my hands are very tired… also i just realised the title doesn’t really go with the plot but oh well… hope u enjoyed though!!!

thank you anon for the request!!!

(not proofread)

#carl grimes #carl grimes x reader #the walking dead #smut #carl grimes x you #carl grimes fluff #carl grimes smut #carl grimes angst #carl x you #carl grimes fic #negan smith #twd carl #carl twd #twd #twd fluff #carl grimes twd #carl grimes fanfiction #carl grimes fanfic #carl grimes x y/n

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minty364 · 3 months

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DPXDC Prompt #142 Part 2

His parents had spent years working on their portal, to the point where they were neglecting their own children. Danny didn’t know any better, neither did Jazz. To them it was just how their family ran and for the most part it worked for them. It allowed Danny to really study space and the Stars. His room was covered with different ship models on the shelves, glow in the dark stars on the ceiling and posters on the walls.

Jazz had similarly explored her own thoughts and topics as she studied Psychology. Her room was more feminine but still had a certain scientific decorum to it.

He never thought that he’d suddenly be ripped from all the things he loved. But here he was with the trench coat man, instead of taking some biology class or something.

“What happened with the portal?” Danny asked.

The man took a long sigh, “listen… quite a lot of shit went down after your accident.”

“That tells me nothing,” Danny glared at the man.

“I get your upset kid, but let me at least know your name. Mine's John Constantine,”

“…Danny,” Danny muttered after a moment. He wasn’t sure he trusted the man but he guessed he had no choice. He was also noticing he felt a bit off, it was the weirdest gut feeling and Danny was having trouble telling exactly what the feeling was. It was like the feeling was telling him to trust John, although at the same time John had this weird feeling about him that had Danny feeling weary. He decided to trust John just a little, hopefully it got him back home, after a moment Danny spoke again, “…Can you at least tell me if the portal worked?”

The room was silent for a moment and then John spoke “Alright, fine, I’ll tell you what happened but some background first, do you know who the ancients are?”

The name didn’t sound familiar, “Ancients? Like Ancient Aliens or something?”

“No, no…” John took a swig from a flask in his pocket and then started fiddled with an unlit cigarette he pulled from a different pocket. He then looked Danny up and down, “You don’t know the first thing about the infinite realms do you?”

“The what?” None of this was making any sense and the more Danny talked to this guy the more he was getting a feeling of dread in the pit of his stomach. Something about this conversation felt wrong, like Danny should know all of this already but he just didn’t.

“Right well… I guess the easiest way to explain this is the portal your parents made was to the infinite realms.” John said, putting the cigarette in his mouth.

“My parents called it the Ghost Zone.” Danny muttered.

John seemed to chuckle at that, “I mean it is mainly inhabited by ghosts, however they aren’t the only ones, far from it in fact. I’m sorry but… I couldn’t allow your parents unlimited access to the realms. I had to disable it and prevent it from being reactivated.”

Danny felt a little disheartened after hearing that, he guessed John was probably right though. He remembered hearing his parents talk about how they’d dissect every ghost they found to study them. The bully’s at his school often bullied Danny over it especially after his dad and mom would continually embarrass him on parent teacher nights and on field trips.

Danny let out a small sigh, “so when can I go home?”

John looked a little surprised, his eyebrow quirked up, “so you're unaware of your situation right now?”

“Situation?” Danny trailed off, he remembered getting shocked and then he remembered waking up here, “where are we?”

John let out another sigh, “shit, well from my research you're supposed to know everything about your powers when you wake up.”

This made no sense to Danny, powers? Danny didn’t have powers, he didn't have the meta-gene.

“Powers? I don’t have the meta-gene. I think you have the wrong person.” Danny stated as he folded his arms in front of himself.

“Then how are you floating?” John asked with a smirk.

Danny looked down and he indeed was floating just an inch off the bed, he wondered when that started but the feeling threw him off a little as he stumbled a little trying to keep himself upright. It didn’t work and he fell back down on the bed with a little thud. He turned to see John watching him with a small hint of amusement in his eyes.

“What am I?” Danny asked, his voice small and a little panicked.

“You, Danny Fenton, are an Ancient. I know the term makes it seem like you're old but the term is more because your people are ancient in age.” The explanation made no sense to Danny but he could somehow float now. He thought the term ‘Ancient’ was a little much for some floating powers.

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frissy · 1 year

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Earth 42! Miles Morales x Earth 1610!/fem! spider!

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4)

ATSV SPOILERS

• protective Miles 42

• protective Miles 1610

• mentions of blood

•mentions of death

• (Kind of) aggressive Miles 42

• not proofread!

• first half follows the ending scene (script wise, i tried following as best as I could)

Miles slowly opened his eyes, he was restrained tied to a punching bag. He groaned as his head throbbed with pain, Uncle Aaron was in front of him. He was facing Miles as he pressed a button which lifted Miles high off the ground.

Uncle Aaron walked closer.

“You don’t understand. I’m not from here.”

He got closer.

“I-I’m from an entirely different universe .” Miles said, struggling against the punching bag.

Uncle Aaron got closer, lifting his arms up.

“W-wait wait wait— please. Please! I got sent here by mistake. I’m not supposed to be here.” He stuttered out, as Uncle Aaron slowly turned around the punching bag to the other wall. Revealing a wall of food rent weapons.

“Uncle Aaron!” Uncle Aaron kept silent. Starting to play music on a record player as he fixed some weapons on the table.

“Uncle Aaron.. Just hear me out.”

His uncle ignored him, Turing up the music. Miles sighed. “I was but by a spider that gave me powers… so was [name]… But it wasn’t supposed to bite me and her. It was supposed to bite someone else… someone.. from here. Me and [name] don’t belong here. We need to go home. I have to save my dad so he won’t die.”

Uncle Aaron continued to stay silent, but he was listening.

“I had an Uncle Aaron too. He’s a bad guy..”

Uncle Aaron put a claw-like gauntlet on his hand. It glowed purple.

“…called the prowler. He looked out for me. He did a lot of bad things, but.. I knew he wanted to be good. He just didn’t know he had a choice. But you do! You can be a good guy!”

He tried turning his head over to uncle Aaron, the punching bag spinning very slowly.

“A good guy?” Uncle Aaron questioned. His back still facing Miles.

“Please.” Miles sighed. Leaning his head back and closing his eyes. “Trust me.”

he opened his eyes, looking at Aaron. “I know you don’t wanna be the prowler.” As he said that, uncle Aaron was lunging toward Miles, raising the prowler gauntlet at him. Instead of punching Miles, he punched the side of the punching bag. Which made Miles’s breath quicken as he swung back and forth.

Uncle Arron pulled Miles close to him.

“I’m not the prowler.”

Miles looked confused as he looked up, a figure was kneeling on a pole that went across the ceiling. The figure jumped down, and slowly walked toward Miles, Uncle Aaron tossed the prowler gauntlet, and the figure, the prowler, caught it. Sliding it onto his hand.

The prowler stopped right in front of Miles.

“your Dad’s still alive?” His voice was distorted.

“What?” Miles raised an eyebrow, confused.

“Your father. You said he’s still alive.”

“Yeah.. who are you?..”

The mask opened up. Revealing an identical copy of Miles. “I’m Miles Morales.” He tilted his head slightly to the side. “But you.. You can call me the prowler.” He made his head upright, looking at Miles sternly.

“if I don’t get home.. our dad is going to die”

“your dad.”

Miles sighed. “Please. You have to let me and [name] go.” The prowler Miles got closer, lighting up his gauntlet. “Now why would I do that?” He made a fist with his gauntlet. Putting it right next to Miles’s head on the punching bag.

”Please”

The prowler Miles shook his head.

“do you know what it’s like to watch your father die on live televising along with the love of your life? Watching as a building crumbles and falls onto them?” His voice got louder.

“Do you know what it’s like.. finding their bodies under all that? Their blood on debris of the building?” He narrowed his eyes.

“it’s so mocking, for you to come here. With her. [name] a living [name].” He took his hand off the punching bag. “And to top it all off, you still have your dad, and your streets aren’t covered with crime.”

Suddenly you came through the bedroom door, you had figured out a way to untie yourself.

“[name]! You’re okay.” Miles looked over, smiling at you, which made the prowler version of himself grow more hatred for his copy from another universe.

How dare he have her. It’s not fair. He thought.

“Miles!” You used your web shooters let him out of his restraints. And he ran over to you, picking you up and hugging you before setting you back down.

Just then, the prowler version of Miles yanked you. Holding you while hyperventilating, he looked at your Miles wide-eyed.

“No. You’re not going to take her. Not when I just got her back.” He held onto you tighter.

“No! You don’t understand. If she stays… If she replaced your [name]… your whole universe would vanish! You’d all die.” Miles tried pleading.

“I don’t care.”

“you should!”

“why!?”

“wouldn’t your [name] want you to be happy? This is only hurting yourself.”

“you just don’t get it. I loved my [name]. She was everything to me. And she died.”

you tried prying yourself out of his arms, but his grip was too strong. You reached out for your Miles, but before he could take your hand, the prowler put his mask back on.

“you’re not leaving me again, [name].” He said, carrying you has he made his way out of the apartment complex, shouting for your smiles as you left.

Your Miles stood there, shaking. Not with fear, but with anger.

Now, Miles had two people to save. And you were the one his heart wanted to save first. .

TO BE CONTINUED….

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writeforfandoms · 11 months

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State of My Head 2

Find the series masterlist

Okay I know this one isn’t as easy but I promise, I PROMISE, we are working towards a happy ending. It will be okay. Just stick with it.

Warnings: Brief suicidal thoughts, minor betrayal, hurt feelings, lots of hurt little comfort, Price is a bit of an ass, brief talk of cruelty to shifters.

Word count: 4.1k

You lasted four days. Four days of being stuck as a human, ferried from person to person. As far as you knew, nobody beyond the four of them were aware of what you were, and nobody else had been put in charge of you. They even locked you in a room overnight.

Because they figured you were a flight risk. And they were not exactly wrong.

Finally, though, bored with sitting in the office with Price while he completely ignored you and did paperwork, you gathered up the courage to ask.

"Can I go see Gaz?"

"No." He didn't even look up, the bastard. You knew you'd been right not to trust him.

You puffed out your cheeks in annoyance. Fine. You'd find another way to talk to Gaz.

Shelving your annoyance, you focused your gaze on the captain again. He still refused to look at you, had barely given you the time of day since the confrontation. But his accusation had stuck with you.

So, naturally, you decided to turn it back on him.

"I could be a spy for you, you know."

At that, he did finally look up, glasses perched on the end of his nose. "I don't trust you." While blunt, the words were not unexpected.

"You won't trust me unless you have a reason to," you pointed out, quite reasonably. "So give me a reason. Give me something to do."

"Why should I?"

You shrugged, flopping backwards onto the couch to sprawl with your legs over one arm. "Because you don't want someone useless around? Because otherwise I will very quickly get bored? Because as much as I would love to lounge around and eat your food, I'd rather be useful and do something."

Price stared you down, blue eyes intent. Then he snorted. "I'll think about it." And then he looked back down at his work.

You nearly groaned, throwing one arm over your eyes. But. He’d said he’d think about it. Which was better than a flat-out no (which you had half-expected). Fine. You could deal with this. You could be patient.

Dinner was quiet. Well. Quiet for you. Ghost was gone again - you’d discovered he often took meals in his room. Soap and Gaz talked between themselves, Gaz not even looking at you, Soap only sparing you glances. And Price kept to himself, eating quietly.

It wasn’t the worst thing that could have happened, but it was boring.

So when Gaz stood, you did too, raising one eyebrow at him. He hesitated a moment before he nodded once, gaze flicking to his captain and back to you.

Both of you were quiet as you walked outside. You had no idea how to do this tactfully. Best to just spit it out, then.

"You're still mad at me."

He glanced at you, gaze cold. But he didn't say anything.

"I get it. Sort of. I lied." You shrugged. "But you were not supposed to know."

"Is that supposed to make it better?" Gaz didn't look at you, instead taking a slow circuit around the building.

"That's up to you." You wrinkled your nose. "I wanted to tell you. You're the first human I've wanted to tell." You smiled up at the slowly darkening sky. "But I have my family to think about."

"Tell me about them." Gaz did finally glance at you, still cold, still closed off. But listening.

"Mama is the matriarch, I suppose you could say. Rules the family. Wants all her kids to settle down with another shifter and have kittens." You shrugged. "I got lucky, I'm in the middle. It was easier for me to leave. We're the biggest family of shifters I've ever met."

Gaz nodded slowly. "And nobody knows about you."

"There's the occasional trusted human." You shrugged. "One of my brothers got himself a human wife, last I saw. But no. We don't tell people, usually."

"Is it that dangerous?"

You considered how to answer his question, wetting your lips. "I had an aunt. My dad's younger sister. She was a leopard cat, like me. Had this brown spot on her chest. Distinctive." You touched your own chest to illustrate the placement. "Well, she decided she was going to make some friends. And she let slip what she was." You frowned down at the ground. "According to Dad, she got caught. They forced her to shift. And then they skinned her. Dad went looking when she stopped responding and found the pelt. Knew it was her because of the brown spot."

Finally he looked at you, horror and sadness in his eyes. "I'm sorry for your loss."

You waved the sentiment away. "That is why I didn't tell you. If I'd stayed voluntarily, gotten to know you better… well, I was tempted to tell you even before I shifted in my sleep." You tucked your hands in your pockets. "I'm not asking you to forgive me, or to not be mad at me. You're entitled to feel however you want. I just want you to understand my side of things."

Gaz nodded once. And that was that. There was nothing else you could say to him, not until he decided what he wanted to do. You could faintly smell the indecision on him.

Though you didn't know him well, you did know he was compassionate. Which would work in your favor, if he decided to forgive you.

You nodded to him as he led you to your assigned room and stepped inside. The click of the lock was somehow less damning than usual.

But you were still stuck in limbo for three more days. Three excruciatingly long, boring days, spent mostly between Price and Soap.

Finally, though, Price set down his pen. "Still want to spy for me?" The words were rough and a little sarcastic.

"Yes." You didn't waver, sitting up straight.

"Fine. Come with me." He stood and you scrambled after him. He didn't look back as he led you across the base, over to a smaller building. "Let's see how you do."

You blinked at him, and he motioned to the door impatiently. So you shifted, wiggling out of the clothes and stretching once. Oh but it felt so good to be back on four legs. Price huffed softly but pushed the door open for you.

Your eyes adjusted quickly to the dark and you meandered. A few quick sniffs proved that this building was used often. So scents were out.

Sound, however, carried just fine. You trotted further in, keeping out of sight as you listened. It didn't take you long to find two soldiers dutifully repeating a conversation. (You knew they were repeating it because you came in half-way through and listened long enough to realize what was happening.)

You made your way through the rest of the building, trying to remember locations, turns, and what all they were saying.

You trotted back out to Price once you were confident you'd gotten everything and shifted back, pulling on your clothes without prompting.

"Well?" He raised an eyebrow at you, cigar held between his fingers.

So you relayed everything you could remember to him, feeling rather proud of yourself.

Price was silent for a few moments after you finished, blowing out smoke. "Not bad."

"Not bad?" You repeated, blinking.

"You missed a few keywords. And Ghost." Price smirked at you.

You hissed softly, more at yourself than him. "Tell me."

If he was surprised by your vehemence, he didn't show it. He just walked you through what you'd missed.

That was your first day of training. You didn't have tasks every day, but when you did, you took it seriously. Praise was incredibly rare - the first word of praise you got from Price nearly had you shifting again to sniff for an imposter.

But your favorite training days were with Gaz. He'd relaxed over time, more willing to talk. You practiced hide and seek with him, simulating mission conditions as much as possible. You liked hide and seek - he was clever and found increasingly challenging places to hide.

The first time you turned it into a game of chase was an accident. You'd spotted him already, tail whipping side to side.

He had a cloth hanging out of his back pocket. You didn't know what it was, but you were determined to steal it.

You jumped up into the tree above him, waiting a few moments. But he didn't move, still watching below for you.

Perfect.

You crept closer to him, judging the distance, waiting for the right moment.

And then you dropped past him, grabbing the cloth in your mouth as you dropped. He shouted, and you bolted as soon as your paws touched the ground.

"Get back here!" He yelped, dropping out of the tree and giving chase.

You darted between two soldiers, enjoying the shrieks from them as Gaz barreled towards them. Then you ran between buildings, up a tree, across a roof, and finally through the middle of a whole group of soldiers, half of whom ended up on the ground.

Gaz dove on you from behind, and you chirped at him innocently.

"You," he panted, "are a monster." But he took his cloth back with a grin.

"We knew that," Price drawled, eyeing the soldiers on the ground. "Inside."

You drooped a little with a sad little mrrp. Gaz tutted, waving you in.

Well. Shit. You must have gotten in trouble somehow. Which rankled twofold: partly because you've been playing by their dumb rules, and partly because you should not care what these men think of you.

(But part of you wanted to look to Gaz, wanted to rub your scent into his skin, wanted to drape across the back of his neck and blink and purr.)

Gaz opened another door for you, and you blinked at Soap and Ghost already inside. Soap patted a chair, clothes already set out for you, and you trotted over before shifting back.

"You wanted to work," Price said, the door shutting after him with a dull boom. Your head popped out of the shirt left for you, and you twisted to blink at him. "You're gonna get to work."

"Really?" You blinked at him, lips parting in surprise.

"Sit."

You made a face at him but sat, curious. Price pulled up a map, holding it so you could see too.

"Should be a simple op," he said. "We get dropped off here, our infil route is here." He pointed on the map. "Our objective is in this building, looking for any computers. You are going to go in and have a look around first." He fixed his gaze on you.

"Okay." It didn't sound bad. Honestly, you weren't even scared. It sounded pretty straightforward.

"Let's get to it, then." He stood, handing the tablet off to Ghost.

Soap had to show you how to properly strap into the heli, and you gripped the handholds so tight your hands ached.

"Not a fan of flying?" Ghost asked, clearly amused at your expense.

"I'd rather keep my paws on the ground," you shot back, and then hissed at a bit of turbulence. You did not approve. At all.

"Relax, you're not gonna fall out." Gaz looked amused too. Traitor.

"Says the man who's fallen out twice," Soap piped up with a gleeful grin.

"What?" The word felt a little punched out of you and you turned wide eyes to Gaz.

"I'm fine," he dismissed, kicking at Soap. "He's just stirring up shit."

You mouthed the phrase, thinking it through. Huh. Interesting. But you let it go, focused now on breathing and ignoring the squabbling happening just seats down from you.

Somehow, you made it through the flight. As soon as the heli was down and Price gave you the go ahead, you were out and hiding up a tree. Still as a human, because you didn't want to risk the pilot seeing anything he shouldn't. But still.

"Cat," Price called, amused and exasperated.

"Right here." You relaxed on the tree branch, looking down at the men.

Price sighed but apparently decided to pick his battles. "You remember the plan?"

"Go in, sneak around, look for computers and guards, and report back," you repeated dutifully.

Price nodded. "Come straight back here."

You grinned at him and shifted. It was easy to kick your clothes off so they fell to the ground. And then you followed them down, meowing softly at the group before you turned and trotted off, tail in the air.

You had a job to do.

For all your practice and for all your self-confidence, you were still surprised at how easy it was to get in. A window had been left open, giving you an easy in. You did wrinkle your nose at the smell of the bathroom, but that was brief.

Next you looked for guards, noting numbers and positions. Much more carefully than you had on your first training round. You'd learned since then.

Finally, computers. Four that you spotted, and a potential fifth tucked away into what looked like a break room.

This really wasn't hard. Honestly, you were kind of surprised more shifters didn't do this. You could probably make a killing at it, if you were so inclined.

You did have to run for cover once, but only once. Nobody raised an alarm or shot at you, so… that seemed like a success to you.

You even managed to find a different window to get back out of, shaking yourself once you were back outside.

It was not a long trot back to the team, and you sat in front of Price before you shifted back.

They were getting used to that, finally. Soap only made a tiny strangled noise, and Gaz threw the shirt to you.

"Four computers, possibly a fifth tucked away," you reported, pulling the shirt on but ignoring the pants for now. "In a break room, off of the main room. Two open windows, a bathroom and different multi-purpose room. I would not advise the bathroom window." You shrugged. "Guards were as expected, although there was one up in the rafters."

Price nodded. "Good," he murmured, and even that bit of praise made you brighten. "Stay put. We'll be back shortly."

"Okay." You watched them go. Gaz hesitated for a moment when he was even with you, but ended up simply dipping his head to you before he moved on.

That would be good enough for now.

Finally getting to your feet and pulling your pants on, you scaled the tree again. Might as well stay out of the line of sight, and see if there was anything interesting you could see.

You might have gotten bored. And you might have climbed higher up the tree. And maybe hummed a little to yourself.

But really, what did they expect?

"Think she ran?"

You nearly fell out of the tree when you heard Soap below you.

"Would be stupid to," Ghost grunted.

"Do you mean me?" You hopped down to a lower branch, both curious and insulted.

"There ye are!" Soap grinned up at you, though you could see the strain behind that smile. "Wondered where you'd got off to."

"Just up here. Figured I was less visible." You dropped down to the ground slowly, glancing between the two almost nervously.

"Aye, right. Come on. We're to meet Price and Gaz at exfil."

You frowned a little bit didn't question it. Just started walking after Soap.

Even though it meant getting back on the heli.

Price spotted the three of you first and nodded to you, a flash of… something in his eyes and in his scent.

But the look of faint surprise in Gaz's expression nearly crushed you.

They'd expected you to run.

You were silent the entire way back to base, head down, wedged into as small a ball as you could manage on the seat. If you weren't worried about falling out, you'd shift.

This time, you didn't wait for the go ahead. You hopped out of the heli and went straight back to your room, ignoring the shout from Soap behind you.

You needed to figure yourself out before anything else happened.

Ignoring the growling of your stomach (shifting took a lot of energy and you really shouldn't shift so often without food), you shifted again as soon as you were safely in your room. Leaving the clothes crumpled on the floor, you crawled under the bed instead, pushing yourself back into a corner where you were protected.

They didn't trust you. Even after all of this, after everything… they didn't trust you. You half expected it from Price and Ghost. They were paranoid bastards who didn't trust easily or often.

But Soap? Gaz?

Those two hurt.

Especially Gaz. Because some part of you had never stopped identifying him as your person, at least in the privacy of your own mind.

You curled your tail over your nose, despondent. You wanted to go home, for the first time in years. You wouldn't even complain about having to help with the kittens. You wanted people who understood you. Who made some kind of effort.

Who gave a shit.

Shivering a little, you closed your eyes. You were stuck here now, still, for better or worse. Probably for the rest of your life, considering how little they trusted you.

You could try harder, you supposed. Do more work. Play less.

But what kind of life would that be? You were a cat, not a dog. You had your own opinions and you were entitled to do some things your own way.

You'd be damned if you let yourself crumble under these men who deemed themselves better than you.

The door clicked as it opened, and someone took three steps into your room.

"You didn't come to dinner." Gaz set a tray down on the floor, standing still. He was far enough from the door. If you wanted to, you could be past him and outside before he could get the alarm properly raised, be out of the compound before they could shoot you.

But something held you there. The tip of your tail twitched, back and forth.

"You did good, today," he continued slowly. "Just thought you should know. But Price is pissed - doesn't like you skipping debrief. Keep that in mind, I guess."

More long moments of silence. You stared unblinkingly at his boots from your spot under the bed.

Finally, Gaz sighed. "Good night, then." He turned sharply and shut the door behind him.

The lock clicked.

You crawled out from under the bed to nibble off the tray.

Moonlight eventually filtered across the floor, and you jumped up to perch on the ledge of the window. You missed hunting. You missed nighttime wanders. You missed sleeping under the stars.

Maybe all of this wasn't worth it. Maybe it never would be.

Maybe you were a fool for leaving home at all.

You didn't move from the window ledge all night.

The next few days were a bit lethargic. You listened to Price's lecture in total silence and stillness. You followed the rules. You kept to yourself.

Until Ghost was walking you to training.

You shifted, squeezing yourself out through the neck of the shirt, and bolted up the nearest tree. Climbing as high as you dared, you lounged there, looking down at Ghost with imperious disdain.

"I should shoot you," Ghost mused, glowering up at you. "Would serve you right."

You flicked your tail at him, yawning just to show off your teeth.

"Fine. You wanna stay there? Have it your way." Ghost shrugged and continued on to the training building. You watched him go with half-lidded eyes.

To your surprise, it wasn't Price that came to get you. It was Gaz.

"Hey," he murmured, reaching one hand up towards you. "C'mere."

You leaned forward to sniff his fingers. He still smelled good. Relaxing, you dropped down a couple levels towards him, ears up and relaxed.

"I'm sure this is a change for you," Gaz said, reaching slowly for you. When you didn't object, he picked you up and swaddled you in the shirt you'd been wearing. "But this is how it is now."

You looked up at him, shocked. He'd used his knowledge against you. Intentionally lured you in, knowing that you responded to him better than anyone else.

This wasn't a lie of omission. This was worse.

You meowed at him, soft and hurt.

"Don't you dare," he grumbled. "You brought this on yourself. You know the rules. You're lucky Ghost was in a good mood, or he would've shot you."

Still better to be shot than be sent to a lab. But all this from Gaz? That hurt. Worse than you'd expected. So much worse.

Apparently, this was to be your life now.

Maybe you should try to get yourself shot.

Gaz deposited you gently in front of Price, and then stood back with his arms crossed over his chest.

You flubbed training. You knew you did. But… well, what was the point?

You spent a few more days as a cat, refusing to shift back. That was at least the one thing you could still control.

"Ach, take it easy on them," Soap murmured to you, nearly a full week later. "They're all loonies."

You huffed softly, adjusting to sprawl yourself across the back of his neck. He'd picked you up and carried you outside with him, but you'd eventually gotten tired of being carried and had moved to his shoulders. This was better.

"It willnae be like this forever," he continued, lifting one hand to stroke the top of your head gently. "Just give 'em some time. Ye were doin' well before."

You grumbled softly, not quite a growl but a displeased noise all the same.

"Aye, ah ken," he murmured. "Ah ken." He sighed softly, stroking your fur. "If it ever gets so bad ye cannae stand it… talk to me. Aye?"

You blinked, uncertain how to properly agree. You settled on a soft meow and a tiny lick to his ear.

"Good. Now! Ah figured we could scare the recruits. How d'ye feel about bringing a mouse into the showers?"

Slowly, though, things got better. Price relaxed, about as much as the man ever did. Ghost stopped sounding like he was ready to murder you at the drop of a hat. Soap relaxed more, joking with you and playing.

The only one to stay aloof was Gaz. And it hurt.

But the more missions you went on, the more intel you got for them, the more they trusted you. Price relaxed the rules, giving you more free reign to shift and run around the base at will.

They even stopped locking you in your room at night.

So when the urge to hunt wouldn't leave, you opened the door and crept out into the hallway. Soft noises from the rec room drew your attention and you snuck over there to look.

Price and Gaz were both seated at a little table, mugs of tea steaming gently.

"...the usual," Gaz was saying softly.

"I know." Price lifted a hand to rest on Gaz's shoulder, much more gently than normal. "You do what you can."

"Yeah." Gaz breathed out slowly. "Yeah. It's not…" He paused, struggling.

And you backed off. This was clearly a private talk. You didn't need to listen to this.

But it did give you an idea.

Once outside, you shifted and dragged your clothes aside. And then you started hunting.

It took a little while. But you found a good sized rat and even managed to kill it cleanly.

Carrying the rat back inside was easy - you'd left the door open a little for yourself.

Then you had to decide whether to leave it for Gaz or try to give it to him. Trying to give it to him came with the very real possibility of being rejected.

Leaving it for him to find sounded much better.

You trotted to his door and left the rat there for him. Not right in front of the door - you didn't want him to step on it.

There. That was better.

Feeling rather smug with yourself, you trotted back outside to shift again and throw your clothes on before sneaking back to your room.

Gaz didn't bring it up at breakfast. Just smiled at you, just a little. But with a warmth that had been missing for a long time.

(You wouldn't have even realized you were purring, quiet and low, except that Soap couldn't resist teasing you.)

#state of my head #kyle gaz garrick x reader #f!reader

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specialagentlokitty · 11 months

Text

Eddie Diaz x Daughter!reader - so much time

Hej do you think you can write a part two of Eddie x daughter reader - so much time? Maybe they still have some struggle in their father daughter relationship? - Anon 💜

Part two:

Throwing your jacket on, you grabbed your keys and stuffed them into your pocket as you made your way towards the door.

“Oh you’re going out?” Eddie asked.

“Going for a drive with some friends.” You said.

Eddie nodded his head, looking around a bit unsure.

“I thought with Christopher at school maybe uh.. maybe you and I could do something…”

“Sorry dad.”

With that you left and jogged down the street to where your friends were waiting.

Eddie sighed heavily, unsure what to do now, since that day a few months ago you two had gotten a little better.

You talked a little more, sometimes you’d have dinner with him, but other than that, there was not much improvement between the pair of you.

And although Eddie knew he wasn’t, he couldn’t help but feel like he was loosing his only daughter, or maybe he already had.

Sitting in the couch, he turned on the Tv unsure what to do with his day off now.

You on the other hand jumped into the front of the car and grinned at your friends.

“Not spending time with your dad?” Ryan asked.

“Why would I?” You asked confused.

“Thought things were getting better.” He shrugged.

You glanced over at him on the drivers side and you went back to looking as the houses passed your by.

“Is that why you asked me to take you on a drive?”

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to say to him Ry, like sure we talk a bit more, spend a bit more time together but it feels weird.”

“Come on, he’s your dad. Surely it’s not that bad.”

“We haven’t had a proper conversation for years.”

“Shit…”

Ryan glanced at you and he sighed as he turned back to the road.

“I mean, at least he’s trying at least you know? That’s something.”

“I guess, but only cause I nearly died.”

“He loves you don’t be such a bitch about it.”

You slapped his arm and he laughed a little, grinning at you.

“Come on though, really, you can’t tell me you don’t want a relationship with your dad.”

“No of course I do, it’s just weird. Like, what do we even talk about?”

“School, his work, stuff you like I guess. I don’t know really.”

“Well, what do you talk to your mom about?”

“Everything.”

You nodded your head and went back to gazing out of the window.

You didn’t know what to talk to your dad about really, it felt awkward and neither of you really knew how to pick up where you left off.

“Come on man, it can’t be that bad.” Buck said.

Eddie looked over at his best friend.

“She literally leaves the house the first chance she gets.”

“She wants to spend time with her friends, that’s understandable right?”

Eddie sighed, nodding his head.

“Of course it is, but it’s like we don’t even know each other. I’m a stranger to my own daughter.”

Buck looked over.

“What happened between you guys?” He asked.

Eddie began to explain everything to Buck, to give him a picture of the whole story, from when you were a kid until now.

Now where you won’t even give him the time of day unless you didn’t have anything else planned.

Buck took a small breath and nodded his head.

“Message her now, just ask her if she wanted to get some dinner or something when she’s home.”

“She won’t.”

“Just ask her Eddie.”

Eddie picked up his phone and sent you a text.

Hearing your phone go off you pulled it out your pocket and looked at it.

Dad: do you want to go to your favourite place for dinner?

“He asked if I wanted to get dinner.”

“Say yes.”

“Why?”

“Oh just do it.” Ryan laughed.

You shrugged a little bit.

You: sure. I don’t know when I’ll be back.

You spent most of the day with Ryan, and instead of dropping you at home he dropped you off outside your favourite food place.

Eddie was stood waiting and he smiled when he saw you.

“Hey, good day?” He asked.

“Yeah, we just drove around really, spent a few hours at the beach.” You nodded.

Your dad nodded and opened the door for you, and you both sat down at a table.

And like every time it was just as awkward as ever as you waited for your food.

“How about we make this a weekly thing?” Eddie asked.

“Really? Why?”

Eddie sighed.

“I want to be your dad like I used to, where you’d come to me for everything.”

You nodded your head a little.

“I guess I could spare some time.” You smiled.

“Spare some time, really?”

“I’m a busy person dad.” You shrugged.

Eddie laughed a little.

“You spend your days going on drives and spending all your money.”

“Exactly, busy.”

Eddie smiled softly and you smiled back.

“It’s just… it weird you know? Like I know you’re my dad, but I feel like I don’t know you.”

“I understand it fully. And I know that’s my fault, I just want to fix it.”

“Same.”

Eddie smiled and handed you your drink as it came.

“So, tell me about school.”

“Well, you’ve got a lot to catch up on.”

“That much huh?”

“There’s a lot of drama.”

You began to tell Eddie about school, and the awkwardness began to fade.

It was still there, but as you talked away Eddie had some hope that maybe things were getting a bit better or at least he hoped they were

#911 fox x reader #911 fic #911 fox x you #911 fanfic #911 x reader #911 fox #911 fandom #911 fox imagine #Eddie Diaz #eddie diaz x y/n #eddie diaz x you #eddie diaz x reader #Eddie Diaz imagine

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justmeinadaze · 1 year

Text

Take It Out On Me Part 3 (Steddie X Plus Size Reader)

A/N: I bare you this! The letter that Steve's dad leaves is literally something like my best friend's mom gave her. I was so shocked! Like what parent does this and talks this way!

Enjoy <3

Warning: Dom Steddie and Sub Plus size reader and all that implies (I regret nothing!), Smut of course with the angst and the fluff. Carol and Tommy are mean to the reader and embarrass her at Steve's party. Steve briefly talks about his trauma. The dad leaves a note for Steve basically telling him he needs to be better. Dirty talk for sure, chocking, slight degrading if you squint.

Word count: 4705

You nibbled on the fries in front of you as you watched Steve and Eddie talk to each other. How had you never known that they even knew one another?

After you guys left the school, Eddie offered to drive you but you felt more comfortable taking your own car, following them to a diner right in the middle of downtown Hawkins. You couldn’t help but pause when Steve held the front door open for you, raising an eyebrow as he gestured inside. It was such an odd contrast especially when it came to him, seeing him be so polite.

“Do you two come here a lot?” You blurted out your question a bit too quickly causing both their heads to turn towards you, giving you an odd look.

“Like on a date or? I mean, Harrington doesn’t really treat me like the beautiful being I am but…”

“No, I mean…”, you giggled and they smiled. It was the first time since they met you that they genuinely heard you laugh. “Why didn’t I know you guys were friends? Even he said your friends don’t know about him.”

“That is a great question. Stevie? Thoughts?”

“We hang out.”

“Getting high in my trailer after school or on weekends doesn’t count.”

“Oh yeah? And what is this? What are we doing now?”, he chuckles.

“Does it bother you?”, you ask Eddie.

“I’ve never really thought about it if I’m being honest.”

“What are you doing?”, Steve asks with a sharp tone.

“I-I-I’m just trying…to get to know you. Understand.”

“Really? Because it seems like you’re trying to cause problems between me and Munson here.”

Your eyes meet his annoyed ones filing with your own frustration. “Is that normal for you, Steve Harrington? To think everyone has a motive?”

“No.”

“Yes.”

He turns to look at Eddie who smiles as he shrugs. “Well, look who found her voice all of the sudden.”

“Did you ever think maybe I always had a voice but it was constantly stifled by people like you!”

“Define people like me.”

“Stuck up, preppy daddy’s boys who only care about what other people think of him instead of growing a pair and just being himself!”

Eddie watched you both with a small smirk as you and Steve glared at each other. Something flashed through the man’s eyes before he glanced at the metalhead, nodding before rising from the table and heading out the door.

“Wow, sweetheart. You really got under his skin.”

“I did?”

“Steve Harrington doesn’t just silently leave. He always has to have the last word. I’m betting it was the ‘daddy’s boy’ part.”

“I don’t understand.”

“No, baby. You don’t.”

#################

The next day, Steve didn’t say a thing to you or even look your way. In class he sat where he was supposed to and during detention that afternoon, he placed himself behind Eddie on the opposite end of the classroom.

Eddie wasn’t out right ignoring you like his friend but he wasn’t really trying to initiate a conversation with you either. He grinned when you walked by during lunch and gave a loud “Hey, princess!” when you entered the room after school.

On Friday, nothing changed and it killed you. You had no idea why but it did. Steve was still an asshole, right? Even though you admitted you didn’t hate him, you still didn’t care about him. Right? So why during your final afternoon in detention, are you staring at him as he doodled in his notebook?

I didn’t mean to hurt his feelings. Is he going to ignore me forever now? Should I apologize? I miss his lips. Wait…what the fuck am I saying?! This is incredibly frustrating!

“Alright boys and girl, congratulations. You have made it through your week of punishment. Eddie I’m sure I will see you again. Steve and Y/N, please, for the love of God, behave.”

The three of you smile as you get up and exit the classroom. They both walk ahead of you as if they had no idea who you are.

“Steve?” You call his name as soon as you enter the parking lot. When he doesn’t respond, you run ahead of them, trying to block their path. “Steve, please.”

They both shift around you as they continue to talk to each other. “You’re coming tomorrow night, right?”

“I’ll be there.”, Eddie grins. You watch in awe as they both get in their cars and Steve speeds away. “See you on Monday, sweetheart! Behave now.”, he winks before starting his van and disappearing down the road.

###############

“Why are we here?”, Masie asks as she looks around at all the drunk students.

“Come on. It will be fun.”

It took some sleuthing but you found out from another girl on the basketball team that Steve Harrington was throwing a huge party on Saturday night. Your blood boiled as you realized he purposely invited Eddie in front of you to make you feel even worse.

“I’m, um, I’m going to go find the drinks.”

“Please don’t leave me alone for long!”, your friend shouted as you left her side.

Steve’s home was gorgeous, much nicer than your own. Kids were packed in tight as they danced to the music beating against the walls of the house. Carol’s hair came into your view and you hastily tucked into a nearby room. As you looked around you realized you must be in his father’s study.

There was a desk with papers scattered all over it. The bookshelf against the wall was filled to the brim with law books and encyclopedias. On a nearby table, you noticed a bunch of photographs of Mr. Harrington and his wife.

Where are the pictures of Steve? Maybe he just doesn’t have any in here…that’s odd. You would think he would want to have pictures of his son close by where he works.

You circled around to the desk, brushing papers aside as you skimmed them until something caught you attention.

Steven,

I am very disappointed in your behavior as of late. You’re barely passing your classes. You haven’t gotten any better at basketball or swimming. You refuse to save any money for college (If you can even get into one at this point) and your mother found drugs hidden in one of your drawers.

You spend a lot of time with that freak or girls you don’t intend on staying with. I am ashamed and so far, son, you are not living up to the Harrington name.

I’ll give you one more year to shape up. If you can’t it together by graduation I will NOT pay for your schooling. Do you understand me?!

Sign and return to my desk. I will file it with my other investments when I get home.

Sincerely,

Bill Harrington

X Steven Harrington

“It’s not polite to snoop, Y/N.”

You jump at the sound of his voice as you turn to find Steve leaning against the closed door with a drink in his hand. He smelled incredibly strong like liquor making your heart break.

“Your father gave you this?”

He pushes off the wall, coming to stand beside you as he cranes his neck to look at the paper in your hands.

“Yup. This is one of the tamer ones.”

“Steve, he talks about you like…your property.” He shrugs as he takes a seat in the office chair. “I’m so sorry. I…I didn’t—”

“Don’t worry about it. I’m just a preppy, daddy’s boy who needs to grow a pair, right?”

Your head hangs as you place the letter back down on the desk. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

“No. You didn’t.”

As you start to head for the door, something stops you. You spin around and his arms open in surprise when you place yourself on his lap, leaning your head on his shoulder. His chest heaves underneath you before his limbs come back down to wrap around you as his head leans against yours.

The loud sound of glass breaking startles you both. “Fucking hell. I can’t have one God damn moment; I swear.” You slide off his lap and he angrily opens the door to find out what happened.

You leave the room to find Masie who was sitting outside on one of Steve’s patio chairs talking to someone you two had class with. You joined her physically but mentally you were somewhere else. Sifting through the last few years, you wondered if there had been any clues to Steve’s relationship with his father. All you remembered was an asshole, Tom Cruise style wanna-be.

He never once let on there might be trouble at home. Hell, he was having a party in the house right now like he didn’t care what his dad thought.

The feeling of something cold dowsing your body, jolted you back to reality. You stood up, watching as liquid spilled down your head, into your clothes, and on to the concrete below your feet. Your eyes met Tommy’s who was now holding an empty pitcher in his hand.

“Shit! Y/N, I am so sorry. I didn’t see you there. Not that you’re hard to miss. Maybe it’s because you weren’t invited.”, he snickered.

Masie stood up, placing herself in front of you. “Have you lost your fucking mind? That was extremely uncalled for!”

You panicked as your eyes looked around the pool area to see people staring at the display that was unfolding. As your body began shutting down, you felt leather being placed around your shoulders.

“Come on, sweetheart. You’re ok.”

“Speaking of uninvited…”, Carol giggled.

As Eddie started to turn you around, you both ran into the host of the party. Steve’s eyes scanned your fragile frame and the snarky smiles on his friend’s faces.

“Everybody out! Out now! You heard me! Parties over!” Carol and Tommy looked around confused but didn’t move as he gently reached for your friend’s arm, tugging her towards you. “You guys, go inside. There are some towels in the washroom by the kitchen. Why are you two still here?! I said out!”

“Are you fucking kidding?”

“No, I’m not. This is MY house. Now get… out…”, Steve growls.

Tommy wraps his arm around Carol’s shoulder as they leave his backyard. After a quick run through to make sure everyone had left, he found the three of you in his kitchen as Eddie ran a towel through your hair.

“Do you have some clothes, man? Something she can put on.”

“I-I-I can’t go home like this. M-m-my dad will kill me if I come home smelling like alcohol.”, you cried.

“He will. Her parents are strict as hell especially her mom.” Masie rubs your back comfortingly. “She told them she was having dinner with me tonight so she could come here…for some reason.” She squints her eyes at Eddie.

If only she knew that he wasn’t the only reason.

“Why don’t you tell them she’s spending the night with you?”

“IS she?” Your friend glares at them both. “Because I’m not leaving her here alone with you Steve Harrington.”

“Maze, it’s ok.”

“Um, Y/N, it’s not ok! Did you see what his friends just did to you?!”

“YES, I DID! I did… I’m fine, ok? Eddie, will take me home tomorrow.”

Her eyes shift between everyone before focusing on the metalhead. “I will be calling her house at noon tomorrow. If she doesn’t answer, I’m calling Chief Hopper. Do I make myself clear?”

“A bit dramatic but yes.” As soon as she leaves, Steve gestures to Eddie, who takes your hand as you both follow him up the stairs. “I like her. She has a lot of spunk.”

“Masie Collin’s has always been that way.”, the other boy sighs as he opens his bathroom door.

“Ah. I’ve never met her before.” He focuses on your body as he removes your beer-soaked clothes, passing them to Steve who stumbles backwards into the wall. “Apparently, I got here too late. Do you need to go lay down, Harrington?”

The man nods slightly as he pushes past you both but instead of turning towards his bedroom, you hear him stomp down the stairs. Eddie turns on the shower, waiting patiently for it to warm up.

“Okay, Sweetheart. Go ahead and take as long as you need. I’ll go riffle through his drawers and see what I can find for you to wear.”

As he turns to leave, you reach out and grab his arm. “Will…will you stay with me?”

“Do you want me to stay in here with you or do you want me to join you?”

“Will you stand in the shower with me, please?”

Eddie steps forward, brushing your hair behind your ears with his fingers. “I said do you WANT… Talk to me like you want it.”

“Eddie, I want you take a shower with me. I don’t want to be alone.”

He softly smiles as he takes a step back and removes his shirt before sliding down his pants with his boxers. You take his hand as he guides you into the tub and you sigh at the feeling of the hot water hitting your body.

Eddie chuckles as he reaches for the shampoo in the corner. “Well, you won’t smell like alcohol but let’s hope your parents don’t know what Steve smells like.”

He grins as you laugh, putting product in his hands, and rubbing it into your scalp. Eddie continued to help clean your body, exhaling pleasure filled breaths anytime his lips would randomly land on your skin.

A tiny squeak left you when his fingers grazed between your legs. “Oh. Sensitive.”, he quips with a mischievous smile.

“I’m still a little sore.”

Eddie’s eyes widen in joking surprise. “Geez, are our cocks that big?” You bite down on your bottom lip as he slowly inserts his middle finger into your entrance. “Or are you just that tight?”

He gets to his feet, placing his other hand on your lower back, sliding you closer to him. “God, I’ve never felt a pussy this tight before.” You moan as he guides his lips to your own. “Normally, I don’t ask but I know you’ve been through a lot tonight. Can I fuck you?”

“I…I don’t want you to ask. That’s what the word is for right?”

“Yeah, baby. That’s right.”

“Then take me, Eddie. Please…I need you to.”

“Fuck me.”, he groans as his lips crash to yours.

He removes his fingers, gripping your waist to adjust your body so your back was facing him. You felt his palm dig into your shoulder as his other hand brought your hips into his own, guiding his length into your cunt.

Eddie wrapped his arms around your tummy as he delivered several hard thrusts that pushed you forward into the cold tile. Your hands shot out to hold yourself steady as he pressed his chest flush to you back.

“Yeah? Fuck, princess, you feel so good. You like the way my cock feels?” You whimpered as your head fell against his shoulder. “Answer me, pretty girl. Tell me how much you love my dick inside of you, stretching you open.”

“I do—mmm—Eddie. Oh my god. I love the way you feel. Please—mmm—please make me cum.”

Eddie pumped his hips faster as the sound of skin slapping skin filled the bathroom. The coil that had quickly began to wind snapped as you moaned his name repeatedly.

“Good girl. So fucking sexy when you cum. I like the way your body trembles. Fuck. Get-Get down on your knees, baby.”

He pulls out of you and you do as your told, his palm falling to the back of your head as your wrap your lips around his cock. “F-fuck. Don’t fucking move.” Curling his fingers tightly in your hair, he thrusts his hips roughly, forcing himself down your throat. As he begins to sputter, he holds you still and you feel his warm spend fill your mouth.

“Good girl. Swallow my cum.”

After you do what he asks, he grabs your forearm helping you to your feet as he smiles. “Do you feel clean or do you want me to do another once over?”

“No, I’m ok. I’m really exhausted.”

“I can imagine.”, he chuckles as he turns off the water and steps out of the tub onto the mat. “Here. Go ahead and dry off. I’m going to go find you some clothes.”

When he doesn’t come back after you’re dry, you go looking for him, finding him in Steve’s room; the boy himself completely passed out.

“Hey, sorry. He actually threw your clothes in the washer so I moved them to the dryer. I’m trying to find something here but kid is too fucking thin. Some of these shirts would barely fit me as a fucking crop top.”

While Eddie spoke, you had tiptoed over to Steve’s bed. Even though he was asleep, he still had a pained expression on his face. You reached out to delicately move some hair to the side and he lightly sighed as he adjusted his head to face the other way.

The metalhead watched you with fascination as you took off the towel that wrapped around you, tossing it to the floor, and climbed into the bed beside his friend. Your hand traced his back over his shirt and again he sighed but the disgruntled look on his face softened.

You smiled when you felt Eddie climb in behind you. For some reason, just laying between them like this made you feel comfortable; safe. His arm slide under your pillow and after a while you heard his steady breathing as he fell asleep.

#############

The feeling of thumb caressing your lips, made your eyes flutter open and were met with the beautiful, amber ones across from you.

“Hey. Are you okay?”, you whisper. Steve nods as he lazily rolls fully onto his side facing you. “By the time I got here you were pretty wasted. Do you remember anything?”

“I remember you being nosey and Carol being a bitch. I remember kicking everyone out and you being sad. Before I fell asleep, I think I heard moaning in my shower but…” He grinned as you blushed. “You smell like me.”

“That’s good. At least I don’t smell like beer anymore.”

“It’s not fair though. You smell like me but not BECAUSE of me.” Steve’s soft palm glided down your back, over your ass to the back of your thigh, lifting it to place your leg over his waist. His hard cock pressed against the outside of your puffy lips making you moan. “I did like waking up to you naked beside me. It took all of my energy not to just take what I wanted while you slept.”

“Why didn’t you?”

He slowly grinded his waist, dragging his length between your folds causing you both to let out a needy whine.

“Because I like hearing you whimper when I first slide my cock into your tight pussy. Like you can’t take me but you know you need me. Do you need me, honey?”

Your hands reach out to cling to the back of his neck as you place your forehead on his. “Yes, Steve. Please…fuck. I need you so bad.”

“Where, baby? Tell me where you need me.”

“I-I-I…” You stumble over your words, already feeling so overwhelmed by him.

A low, growl rumbles from his chest as his palm comes up to wrap around your throat. “You take too long to answer simple questions.”

“I’m sorry. I just—”

“I don’t care. Tell me…what you need.”

You swear you hear Eddie’s breathing pick up behind you but as you try to turn your head to look Steve grips your jaw forcing your eyes to remain on his.

“Jesus! And so easily distracted. Did she give you this much trouble last night?”

“No. She told me she needed me and swallowed my cum like a good girl.”, Eddie responds through heavy pants.

Aggressively, you press your lips to his, relishing in the taste that you missed for almost three days. These men were almost like a drug to you and when Steve pulled away you saw it in his eyes to.

“Please, Steve. I missed you and how you feel inside me. I need you to make me cum.”

The man gripped your hips as he rolled you onto your back, lifting your other leg to wrap around him. As his mouth traveled down your neck, you were finally able to look at Eddie who was stroking his dick under the blanket as he watched you both.

Your hand reached out to tug down the sheet making him chuckle. “Do you want to see me play with myself, pretty girl?”

When you nod, Eddie tosses the blanket down to the end of the bed not only exposing himself but Steve between your legs. Your hand reaches out to help him but he promptly stops you, placing your palm against his friend’s back.

“Naw, sweetheart. I had you. It’s his turn.”

With that, the boy slid his cock into your entrance, both men watching your face as it scrunched in pleasure. Steve thrust into you roughly, hitting that spot inside of you that had your eyes rolling back.

You licked your lips as you watched the metalhead, his moans making your pussy clench.

“Fuck. Fuck, fuck, no.”, Steve whined as his head fell into the nook between your neck and shoulder. Your arms wrapped tightly around him as his rhythm faltered and you felt his seed warm your insides.

“It’s…it’s ok. It’s alright, Steve.”, you cooed as you ran your fingers through his hair.

“Alcohol isn’t always a man’s best friend.”, Eddie breathily laughs as his own rhythm slows.

Steve’s head shot up, quickly pulling himself out of you before climbing down your body and placing your legs over his shoulders. You cried out as his mouth wrapped around your clit and he rapidly pushed two fingers into your dripping hole.

“Oh-oh my god.” You palm floated down, holding tightly to the back of his head.

Eddie’s shoulder brushed your own as he scooted closer to you, his lips warming your ear. “You did say you needed to cum and if I know Harrington he would never leave a girl he likes unsatisfied.”

Your other hand tried to reach for his cock again but he hastily slapped the back of it before reaching over to slap one of your breasts. “I said no. You’re his right now. Who do you belong to right now?”

“S-Steve.”

Eddie smacked your tit again eliciting a soft moan. “Louder so I know you understand.”

“I belong to Steve! Fuck…” In response to your cries, Steve’s tongue flicked faster against you as his head shook from side to side. “Yes…just like that. I’m gonna…”

You felt the metalheads arm beside you move at a quicker pace as his breathing became more labored. Back arching, your hips grinded against the man’s fingers and tongue as you came.

Gradually bringing your quivering legs back down to the bed, Steve placed delicate kisses on your nub making you twitch.

Eddie’s body curled inward as he came, his release shooting out and hitting his thigh.

Usually, they were both quick to clean and take care of you, but you were surprised when Steve laid his head on your lower belly, wrapping his arm around you after bringing your bent knee to lean against his back. Eddie’s head leaned on your shoulder as his hand reached down to intertwine his fingers with your own. You weren’t sure how to react so you just did what felt right choosing to continue to play with Steve’s hair as you pressed your cheek on top of Eddie’s head.

You don’t know how long you three laid like that but the sound of a phone ringing pushed you out of the pleasurable moment. Steve groaned as he rolled over to answer it.

“Hello? Harrington house…yeah. Hey, dad.”

“This may take a while. Come on, princess.” Eddie yanked on your hand, guiding you back to the bathroom where he reached for a rag and cleaned you both. “Ok, stay here. I’m going to go grab your clothes.”

He reappeared quickly, beaming as he handed you your outfit. “Now you’ll smell like Harrington and rich people detergent.” You giggled as you thanked him and he disappeared again to throw on his own ensemble.

As you descended his stairs, your breath caught at how much trash there was everywhere from his party last night. You wondered into his kitchen, finding the trash bags, and began grabbing cups and plates along the way.

“What are you doing?”

Steve’s voice startled you, your eyes darting towards where he was watching you. “Oh, you scared me. I’m helping you clean. I don’t want your parents to get mad at you.”

“They won’t be home till Wednesday.” His eyes scanned you over, always trying to get a read on you.

“They leave you by yourself that long?” That genuinely made you sad for him. His folks seemed to be the exact opposite of yours. Where yours at times could be pretty strict and micromanaging, his didn’t seem to care at all. Or didn’t care about their son the way they should judging by the letter you found.

“Aw. I love it. A girl with a heart.” Eddie grins as he noisily comes down to where you both are. “Unfortunately, babe, I was threatened to have you home by noon. It is currently… a little after eleven and I don’t know how far you live.”

“I’m maybe about 8 miles that way.”, you gesture somewhere behind you. “I, um, I do need you to drop me off a few houses down. I’m sorry. It’s just if they see me hop out of a van…well any car that isn’t Masie’s they will have questions.”

The metalhead nods as he reaches for his jacket and digs for his keys. “Do you mind looping back around, Munson, to drop me back off here?”

“Not a problem, man.”

“Oh Steve, you don’t have to come.”

“Do you not want me to?”, his asks with a forceful tone.

“Of course, I do… I don’t want to be burden.”

“Interesting.” Eddie muses as Steve grabs his jacket and you three head out the door. “Harrington thinks everyone has a motive. You think you’re a burden. Once we figure out my damage is we’ll win ‘fucked up people’ bingo.”

#################

“Yeah, I’m just right there. Thank you for taking me home.”

“My pleasure.”, Eddie grins.

“Are you going to be okay?” You both turn to look at Steve who was now leaning forward between the two front seats. “I said I remembered Carol being bitch but Tommy was the one who poured that pitcher all over you, right?”

You nodded before down casting your gaze towards the floor. “It’s not the first time. Freshman year he spilled milk on my dress in the lunch line. In middle school, we all had that field trip to the theater and he pretended to trip, pouring soda down my back. You know, looking back on it, I’m starting to think Tommy Hagan doesn’t know how to drink a beverage.”

They both laugh, making you smile. You’d never seen Steve honestly grin with his teeth before. You reach out with your palm and bring his lips to yours before doing the same with Eddie.

“I’ll be ok. I’m always okay.” As soon as you jump out of the van, Steve climbs into your seat. You start to head for your house but a thought suddenly hits you. “Oh! Um, I almost forgot. Do either of you have a pen?”

They look around before the metalhead make a tiny aha sound, reaching over to hand you a marker. You giggle as you take it from him, grabbing the boy’s hand and writing something on it. “That’s my line. My parents have their own…for business.” You roll your eyes as you wave and they watch you jog towards your house.

Eddie smiles as he shows Steve his palm with your phone number scrolled across.

#############

@manda-panda-monium @sherrylyn628 @local-stoner-bitch

@katethetank @danandphilequalsmemes @luna-munson83

@sidthedollface2 @mandyjo8719

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cuttergauthier · 8 months

Text

Secret Pregnancy

Josh Norris x Female Tkachuk Reader

Warning: annoying brother, fluff, Brady Tkachuk, pregnancy

word count: 0.6k

let me know what you guys think🤍

I am currently in Florida with my family and Josh, along with our son y/s/n, who is now 3 years old.

The boys decided to bring y/s/n on the ice today so they could teach him how to play hockey, especially since Matthew Only had a game tonight.

I am also 5 Months pregnant, thankfully my bump wasn’t big yet so I could still hide it. Josh and I wanted to keep this baby a secret especially since my family was really protective when I was pregnant with Y/s/n. I was wearing some biker shorts with a baby shirt today.

Emma, Taryn, my mom and I are sitting in the stands watching the boys teach Y/s/n how to play. Y/s/n loves watching his dad and uncle play so I have a feeling he’s going to make it far with hockey.

The girls and I are talking about pretty much everything. My mom tells stories of how it was when she watched my dad first teach Matthew and Brady.

“It’s adorable isn’t it, watching Josh teach him how to play?” My mom asked me, smiling.

The biggest smile made its way on my face.

“Yeah, and he loves it, he’s excited to teach this little one too” I said without thinking and putting my hand on my bump. The girls gasped.

“What?” Taryn asked, surprised.

My eyes widened

Crap I wasn’t supposed to tell them.

“You’re pregnant?” my mom asked with teary eyes.

“I wasn’t supposed to tell you” I said

“Why not?” Emma asked smiling.

“Josh and I wanted to surprise everyone after the baby was born, which I know was going to be hard especially with you and brady being in ottawa, but everyone was so overprotective last time it was driving me crazy and I didn’t want to go through that again” I said softly.

“Oh, sweetie they care and love you so much, i know it sucks when they don’t want you to do anything, but they just want you and the baby to be safe” My mom said.

“I also can’t keep this from Brady, he’ll know… I can’t lie” Emma said making us laugh.

<<<

Skip to the playoff game.

We made it to the suite, I had a feeling Emma already told Brady and that my mom had already told my dad since they kept looking at me every few minutes.

The first period had started when I started to get hungry, I started getting up from my seat when Brady looked to see what I was doing.

When he notice I was getting up, he got up instead.

“Sit down, what do you want? I’ll get it for you” He said. I sighed and sat back down to look at Josh, who was already looking at me confused.

“You told him?” Josh asked

I shook my head.

“I let it slip by accident this morning when I was with the girls sorry” I told Josh sadly.

Josh smiled.

“Babe it’s fine, I almost let it slip a few times.” He said

“I can’t believe you guys were going to keep this a secret.” Brady said.

“Brady I love you, but you are way too overprotective” I said.

“I’m sorry I just want to make sure you are being safe.” He said softly

“I know, I love you, but if I ever need anything you know I'll ask. I’m only 5 months pregnant, I can still move” I said getting up, sending him a smile.

“Promise?”

“Yes I promise, now sit back down and watch Matty while I go get myself some food”

He sighed before he sat back down.

“Fine” he said

I smiled at this. Hopefully it stays this way but I know the closer I’ll get to the end of the pregnancy he’ll get overprotective again, they’re lucky I love them.

#nhl fanfiction #nhl imagine #nhl blurbs #nhl blurb #nhl #hockey imagine #hockey blurb #hockey fic #hockey #hockey fanfiction #josh norris imagine #josh norris fic #josh norris blurb #josh norris #brady tkachuk #matthew tkachuk #tkachuk reader x josh norris

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zepskies · 1 year

Text

Never Say Goodbye - Bonus Track #2

Pairing: Dean x Female Reader

Summary: The first time you and Dean sensed each other’s thoughts and feelings, you were just kids. It would take years to realize that you both were bonded for life, and even longer to finally meet. [Soulmate AU] (18+)

AN: Did I say two parts? I meant three lol. (It got too long, I’m sorry.)

Word Count: 4,300 Tags/Warnings: Angst, supernatural shenanigans, death…

Bonus Track #2: One Last Hunt

“Okay, try not to panic,” Sam said. Dean had him on the phone while he sped through town in the Impala.

“I’m coming now, but I won’t get there for a few hours,” Sam said. “My flight leaves in 20 minutes.”

“Thanks, man, but I can’t afford to wait,” Dean said. “She fucking disappeared. I don’t see her anywhere…I’m gonna have to start at her job. That’s where she first took off from.”

“How did she seem this morning?”

“Fine, I guess. I left before she woke up,” Dean said. He still felt guilty about the fact that he didn’t bother waking you up to say goodbye.

“Okay, yeah, start at the museum,” Sam said. “Let me know what you find, and I’d loop in Bobby. Probably Jack too.”

“Bobby’s meeting me there…but we don’t need to bring in Jack yet.”

“Dean, he’s her dad—”

“This isn’t his thing. It’s ours,” Dean said firmly. “If it’s a demon, I’m gonna find her and exorcize that son of a bitch.”

Sure enough, Bobby met Dean at the museum where you worked. The old man was worried, Dean could tell, even if he wouldn’t say it. But he knew the drill: now they had a job to do.

“I’ll go in first, flash my badge,” Dean said. “Meet me in the library.”

“Roger that,” Bobby agreed.

Dean had a decent rapport with your boss, Jerry. When he explained that you were actually missing, Jerry was concerned for your wellbeing instead of irate that you’d taken a very valuable book from the museum.

It gave Dean a theory to lie about on the fly: that you’d been mugged and taken hostage, presumably by someone who might’ve wanted to steal the ancient text.

“How ancient are we talking exactly?” Dean asked.

Jerry gave him a look. “Ancient Egypt.”

He showed you the inventory log on the new shipment you were supposed to compile into the system. The title missing from the rest was called The Eye of Ra.

“All right. Thanks, Jerry,” Dean said. “Anything else you can tell me about this book?”

“It’s a recording of the great deeds of the Ancient Egyptian gods and goddesses,” Jerry explained. “It was said to be touched by Ra himself.”

Touched by Ra, Dean mused. Ain’t that just fucking swell.

Whatever happened to you, Dean knew it was because you touched that book.

For the next few hours, Dean and Bobby worked together on deeper research in the library. Now that they had a starting point, Bobby was able to find some intel.

“The Eye of Ra was actually a nickname,” he said, earning Dean’s attention. “For Sekhmet, their goddess of war.”

Dean’s brows furrowed at that. “Why’s it never the goddess of peace and fucking tranquility?”

“Among other things, she was the daughter of Ra,” Bobby said, raising a wry brow. “And she was known as the bringer of plagues and death…and sometimes healing. Go figure.”

Fucking hell, Dean thought sourly. This was getting worse by the minute.

“Okay, what does this have to do with the book?” he asked. Though he had some idea.

“Well, she ain’t been alive in a millennium. But she had a husband. The god Ptah, a craftsman,” Bobby said. “According to this, when he was eventually killed, she sealed her soul away until she could find a way to rescue him from the underworld…I’ve gotta think she sealed it in that book.”

Dean sighed, rubbing the now aching spot between his brows. An ancient Egyptian goddess was most likely possessing his fiancé.

And it was much worse than it sounded on paper.

“Okay, which means she’ll be looking for a way to bring back her husband,” he said. “So how do we find her?”

Just then, the police radio buckled to Dean’s belt sounded off. When he listened closely, his eyes grew wide. It was a report of five murders committed at a nearby gas station.

Dean pulled up to the local 7-Eleven. Bobby was on the way, but he’d been caught up in traffic while Dean was allowed to use his police siren to his advantage.

He then used his badge clearance to get behind the yellow tape and over to Jack, who was still on duty.

Dean stepped inside the gas station and surveyed the brutal scene: the nice old man who owned the place, plus four patrons were lying dead.

Their skin was covered with boils.

Jack wore a disconcerted frown along with his crossed arms in his police jacket.

“It’s almost…biblical,” he remarked.

Dean knew just how right he was. Jack seemed to know that too when he glanced over.

“Is this your kind of thing?” he asked.

Dean nodded. “I might know what’s going on here. Let’s check the security footage…but no one else can see it but you and me.”

Jack nodded, leading Dean to the back of the store. Jack was shocked by what he found in the footage. Dean watched grimly, but not surprised as you came into the frame. You tilted your head at the owner, who seemed to ask you something.

You raised a hand, and with a flare of magic, everyone in the station was cowering and screaming as a plague of boils covered their bodies, and eventually ended their lives.

“Christ,” Jack gasped. “What the hell—”

“It’s not her,” Dean told him. “She’s being possessed. I’ll handle this, Jack. Just make sure this footage gets buried, along with whatever prints she might’ve left behind.”

Jack barely had time to agree. As if that kind of thing was so easy. He called after Dean as he took off out of the station.

Dean didn’t see Bobby yet when he got outside, but he didn’t have time to wait.

However, he did spot someone familiar hanging out in front of the department store across the street. Dean jogged across and raised a hand to flag down Jessie Deluca.

The kid was gnawing on what looked like a melting Butterfinger. He groaned in annoyance when he saw Dean coming.

“Not you again,” he muttered.

“Yeah, me again,” Dean said. “You been standing out here long?”

“Look, grandpa. I’m just chillin’ here,” the kid sassed. It sparked Dean’s irritation, as well as his impatience.

“I don’t give two shits if you’re contemplating the great Butterfinger Heist of 2008, all right?” Dean pointed back to the gas station. “You see that?”

Jessie’s expression faded from some of its assholeness, becoming more solemn. “Yeah, I heard someone died or something.”

“That’s right,” Dean nodded. “Did you see anyone walk out of the station?”

“No,” Jessie said. But Dean could tell it was a reflex, not the truth.

“Listen, Jessie. I need your help,” he said, more earnestly. “I’m trying to find someone. So if you know anything, I need you to tell me right now. Please.”

Dean stared down in the kid’s brown eyes. Eventually, Jessie relented.

“When I came out of the store here, I saw some business lady walk out. I think, after it had all just gone down,” Jessie confessed. “She looked fine.”

Dean sighed and nodded. “Okay. What’d she look like?”

“Uh…black skirt. Great legs,” Jessie said, his lips curving a little. Dean raised a brow.

“Anything else?” he asked wryly.

“White blouse, heels…actually, she kinda looked familiar,” Jessie added as he thought harder about it.

“Good. Now tell me what direction she went in,” Dean said. Jessie nodded and pointed him down the street.

“I think she went down there. I saw her turn the corner.”

“Where? What street?”

“Dude, I don’t know!”

“Then show me,” Dean insisted. He grabbed Jessie by the shoulder and guided him forward. The kid looked annoyed, but he begrudgingly agreed to lead him down the street. The two of them walked brusquely, with Jessie trying to match Dean’s longer strides.

Dean glanced over at his companion, who was still working on his Butterfinger.

“When’s the last time you ate something that wasn’t covered in chocolate?” he asked. Jessie didn’t look at him when he shrugged. His winter jacket hung off his skinny shoulders, making him look ten rather than thirteen. Dean’s heart twinged.

“Listen, next time you’re itching to knock over a department store for KitKats, come by the station,” Dean said. “Find me or my partner Jody Mills. Or even my boss, Jack. We’ll get you a burger or something.”

Jessie briefly looked up at him, but all too soon, his gaze returned to the ground.

“What do you care?” he said.

“Maybe I know something about having to fend for yourself,” said Dean. “Sometimes going hungry, not knowing when somebody’s gonna come back for you.”

Jessie’s jaw clenched. He didn’t answer, but Dean hoped he’d gotten through to him.

Jessie led him around the corner at the street he thought he saw you turn down. He and Dean didn’t have to walk too much farther before he found you through the window of a bakery, of all things.

“What the hell?” Dean muttered.

He pulled Jessie to the wall by the window for safety, but both of them snuck a peek inside.

You were once again wielding magic to spread a plague of boils across an entire room of screaming, agonized patrons just trying to get their donuts and cream pies.

Jessie started to utter a cry of alarm, but Dean quickly covered the kid’s mouth with his hand and pulled him back to his side. Dean waited, stock still, until the screaming inside the bakery subsided.

He looked down at Jessie and raised a finger to his lips. Though he was scared, Jessie nodded. Dean led him around the corner into an alley beside the bakery.

“What…the fuck was that?” Jessie hissed.

“Keep your voice down,” Dean warned.

Then suddenly, it donned on the kid as he looked up at Dean. “Oh, shit. That’s your freakin’ girlfriend.”

Dean let out a sharp sigh. “It’s not her…exactly.”

He knew Jessie didn’t understand. Dean sighed again and grasped Jessie’s shoulders.

“Look, you’re right to be scared. There’s something evil in there…that’s why I’ve gotta save her,” he said. “Now you, you’re gonna run. And don’t look back until you’re home, got it?”

After a moment, Jessie nodded shakily. Dean nodded back, patting him firmly on his shoulders.

“Good man,” he said. “Okay, scram.”

Jessie seemed reluctant, like he felt some type of way about leaving Dean behind. But at Dean’s encouraging look, Jessie took off running. Dean hoped he headed straight home.

Then, rolling his shoulders, Dean braced himself. He drew his gun, which was filled with silver bullets. He didn’t think it would work on an Egyptian goddess, nor did he want to pull a gun on you. But for the threat of it alone, he would have to draw it with the safety on.

He entered the bakery, where you were perusing the selections with a dispassionate look. All around you was death.

But you perked up when Dean entered, eyeing him curiously in recognition.

“Feelin’ a snack?” he asked.

“I have been asleep for a very long time,” you replied, holding up a pastry. “What is this confection?”

“Cherry Danish,” Dean supplied. “You’re Sekhmet, right?”

Your lips twitched. “You know of me?”

“I do now,” he said, carefully stepping further into the bakery with his gun pointed down, avoiding stepping on the bodies. He noticed the book you left closed on the counter. The goddess saw him noticing. Her gaze cut to him in amusement.

“Why’d you kill these people?” Dean asked. “Didn’t bow down at the right angle?”

“Among all of my brothers and sisters, I alone was favored by my father,” she said, “because my job was to balance the world, between life and the afterlife.”

Sekhmet brushed her fingers against a glass case, and with a small spark of magic, the glass cracked into thousands of fractals, but didn’t shatter.

“And I did exceedingly well at this,” she said. “Though I see that my work has been undone. This world is rife with imbalance.”

“Mass genocide. Nice,” Dean quipped. “But that’s not all you want, is it?”

Sekhmet’s head tilted at him with reluctant interest.

“I heard you’re looking for your husband, who went an offed himself,” he added.

The goddess’s lips pursed and she slapped a hand on the glass counter, making it shatter. Dean turned and shielded his eyes with his arm. By the time he recovered, Sekhmet was coming around the counter. He took a few cautious steps in the opposite direction.

“My husband was unjustly slain by the very people who once worshipped us in droves,” she said, her tone exacting and harsh. Her eyes, however, were heavy with fury and pain.

“He was an artist. A creator in purest form…his talents were wasted on this abomination of a world,” she said, with disgust at her surroundings. But as soon as her anger came, it diffused into exasperation.

She picked up a glazed donut and took a bite, crossing her arms. She hummed in delight, making Dean’s brows raise.

“Well, I can help you find him,” Dean said. It was a bluff, to be sure, but it still earned Sekhmet’s attention.

“Can you?” she asked in amusement. She didn’t believe him. Yet. But she drew closer to Dean, tilting her head just so. All the while, Dean inched towards the far end of the counter where The Eye of Ra had fallen to the ground.

“And after, you let my girl go,” he said.

“You know of a way to reach the Underworld?” Sekhmet’s gaze roamed over him in disdain. “Unlikely.”

“Well, I’d call it a gate to Hell. But same difference, right?” Dean quipped.

The second he tried to reach down for the book, however, Sekhmet pinned him in place with a vibrant amber coil of magic. Dean grunted as she forced him to the ground, onto his knees between the bodies of a young man and woman, likely a couple.

The goddess stopped in front of him, looking down at his face with interest.

“Dean Winchester, as you are called. I understand why you continue to display such reckless judgment, all but throwing your very life at my feet,” she said. Her lips curved knowingly. “I hold your lover, correct?”

She harshly grabbed his cheek in her hand, and Dean glared in response. She seemed to ponder something as she considered him.

“Soon to be your wife,” she realized.

And Dean had a feeling she was in your head, sorting through your thoughts and memories like any demon would. He didn’t know what was worse: the thought of you being awake in there, unable to fight this bitch’s hold, or if Sekhmet had completely taken over your body and shut you away.

“Just let her go,” Dean said, almost pleading. “You can have me. I won’t even fight you.”

“Such self-sacrifice,” she said. “The only noble act humans are capable of.”

Before she could decide whether to kill him, or keep him for further amusement, the front door of the bakery swung open.

Bobby came in first, followed closely by Sam and Eileen.

Bobby was holding a damn crossbow, which he aimed and shot off at Sekhmet. It was a warning shot, just grazing her shoulder. But it burned her with a sting of flesh that made her hiss in pain. She glared up at Bobby, and after grabbing the book before Sam could, she disappeared in a whirlwind of magic.

The coil holding Dean in place shattered, allowing Dean to catch his break and get to his feet, with Sam’s help. Dean had to admit, it was good to see his brother.

“You okay?” Sam asked. Dean reached over and pat the other man’s shoulder.

“I’m good,” he said, though with a sigh that belied his weariness. “Hey, Eileen. Thanks for making it to the party.”

The pretty brunette offered him a sympathetic smile, rubbing his arm. “We came as soon as we could.”

Dean nodded and turned to Bobby, who still held his crossbow. He wasn’t happy about the old man shooting at you, but he recognized that it had saved his life.

“Why’d that thing hurt her?” he asked.

“The arrow’s dipped in a potent mix of salt from the Dead Sea…and Egyptian wine, among other things,” Bobby replied.

Dean frowned in confusion. “Why the fuck?”

“According to the lore, Sekhmet could be subdued with alcohol,” Sam explained.

“Great, we’ll just get her drunk and all our problems will be solved,” Dean quipped dryly. He grabbed the radio from his belt. His gaze returned to the dead bodies on the floor with dismay.

“I’ve gotta call this in. Bobby, get the security tapes.”

After Dean finished calling in the deaths to his precinct, he shared a disheartened look with Sam, who grasped his shoulder in support.

“We’re gonna find her, all right?”

They regrouped at Bobby’s house once Jack took over at the bakery. Now the three men and Eileen were congregated in the living room, trying to decide on their next move.

“You told her about the Hell gate?!” Sam said incredulously.

“Damn it, Dean!” Bobby slapped the coffee table in exasperation.

“All right, lay off! I was improvising under fucking duress,” Dean snapped. “At least we know where she’ll probably go next, assuming she finds out where the gate is.”

“She’s a goddess, Dean. One of the oldest and most powerful in ancient history. I’m sure she can figure it out,” Sam said, rubbing at his tired eyes.

And, as Dean remembered, Sekhmet was rooting around in your head. She’d find the gate for sure.

Eileen looked between the brothers, clearly worried. Sam had told her about what you, him, and Dean had gone through to close that damn gate to Hell last year.

“So how do we stop her?” Dean asked. Without hurting you, was implicit. Bobby heaved a sigh.

“We gotta burn that damn book,” Bobby said. “But we’ll need to be smart about it.”

So that was how the four of them ended up driving to southern Wyoming. They stopped along the crossroads by the train tracks, and ventured in on foot into the very clearing where their final battle against Yellow Eyes took place.

Dean thought he’d be able to put his past behind him, but the universe clearly liked to kick him in the balls.

Evidence of this came when he saw you standing at Samuel Colt’s gravestone. Or rather, the goddess Sekhmet.

She was expending large forces of magic to try and open up the gate to Hell. The book that bound her soul lied on top of a nearby headstone.

Dean gestured for Sam, Eileen, and Bobby to hang back and fan out, while he stalked forward. He’d changed out of his police uniform in favor of his familiar jeans, shirt, and a red plaid shirt, hoping that at least would help you focus on him, wherever you were deep inside your mind.

But he called out to Sekhmet from a (relatively) safe distance away.

“Are you stupid or something?” he mocked.

Sekhmet paused in her magic wielding. She craned her head over her shoulder at him in annoyance, with amber rings illuminating her eyes.

“There’s only one thing that can open up that gate, and I’ve got it right here,” said Dean.

He pulled out the Colt from behind his back.

Sekhmet’s gaze narrowed on the gun, then at Dean with a slow smirk.

“Why, by the gods, should I trust your foolishness?” she asked.

“Because we’re about to make a trade,” Dean said. “The gun for my girl. You let her go, or you’ll never see your husband again. In this world, or the next.”

Dean pointed the gun at her and cocked the safety back. She didn’t have to know the barrel was empty.

“You cannot harm me, even if there was ammunition in that weapon,” Sekhmet replied knowingly.

She turned to him and reached out with a magic-fueled hand, but before she could grab Dean, Sam shot his own gun.

It deployed a net of rope that twined around her frame and held her in place. It was soaked with the same concoction Bobby shot her with in the bakery, and it made her fume with outrage.

It didn’t completely weaken her though. Her hands were still free to fling Sam and Bobby away from her with magic.

She then turned to grip Eileen, who was nearly able to steal the book. And the goddess sent Eileen across the clearing, breaking a headstone as she fell.

Sam had been trying to pick himself up from the ground, but he gripped at his chest, feeling his soulmate’s pain. He scrambled over to her prone form on the ground and checked the cut along her hairline.

“Eileen,” Sam called, pressing his hand to her cheek. He had one eye on her, and another on his brother.

Because meanwhile, Sekhmet had broken free of the ropes holding her captive with a cry of fury.

Just in time to grab Dean by the throat when he tried to surprise her from behind. She forced him down to his knees and smirked in satisfaction as Dean struggled against her hold.

He called your name, trying to reach you through the goddess’s hold on your mind.

“She is gone from this world,” Sekhmet taunted. “This is but a vessel for my eternal soul.”

“I don’t fucking believe that,” Dean choked. “If she was gone, I’d know it. Deep in my bones I’d know it.”

Her mouth twitched, but she seemed to enjoy the idea of slowly choking him to death. Or maybe, something was holding her back. Dean could only hope it was you, trying to break through.

He looked into your eyes and tried to find you through the cold disdain of a goddess.

“Whatever happens, I’m not letting go,” he gritted out. He held tight to your wrist, on the hand wrapped around his throat.

“I love you, you know that?” he said. “From the start…you closed the door in my face when I tried to kiss you. Teased me. Never took my shit. But you never left me either. No matter how hard it fucking got, you kept my feet on the ground. You never called it quits…‘cause we never say goodbye. Right, baby?”

Slowly, slowly, Sekhmet’s hard exterior faded. The amber rings of magic receded from your eyes, and the woman he loved was there again, softening your face into shock and horror.

You released your grip on Dean. He stumbled to the ground as he coughed and gasped for precious oxygen.

He straightened enough to grab your hand. You reached out for him instinctively.

“Dean,” you said with shaking effort.

“I’ve gotcha, sweetheart,” he said. He turned back to see his brother helping Eileen to her feet. “Sam, the damn book!”

Sam snapped to attention and quickly looked for The Eye of Ra. It had been knocked over from the headstone onto the ground. He grabbed it and fished out a lighter from his pocket.

Dean’s attention turned back to you when you squeezed his hands.

“I can’t hold her for long,” you said tremulously. Your whole body was shaking. “She’s so damn strong…”

“It’s okay, we’re gonna fix this,” Dean said, brushing your hair back from your face.

You closed your eyes and gasped. But when you opened them once again, they were hard, and glowing with magic.

Sekhmet tossed Sam away from the headstone.

Dean tried to hold her back, but she backhanded him hard. Sekhmet followed where he fell. She reached out and gripped him by the neck again, this time choking him with a vengeance.

But then she gasped, as if in pain. She turned her head and found Sam with the book in one hand, and a lit match in the other. As the book started to burn, Sekhmet weakened.

Dean caught her before your body could hit the ground.

Sekhmet released a shaking breath; she gazed into the dimming sky, painted in its golden, amber hues, and knew that her soul was dying. Hot tears slipped down her cheeks.

Dean almost felt sorry for her. Or maybe it was the sight of your pained, weeping face that tugged at his heartstrings.

“You’ll just have to join your husband this time,” he said.

Sekhmet’s lips trembled, but she nodded. “This world was never made for us…but we shall soon be together for all eternity.”

She looked up at him with a rueful smile.

“You understand,” she said. “A soul bond can never be destroyed.”

And with that, the haze of magic drained from your eyes as your body went limp.

Dean’s brows furrowed with worry as he called your name. Behind him, Sam helped Eileen draw near with a limping Bobby. All three watched with worry at Dean’s side…until your eyes opened, revealing their natural hue.

You took in a tremulous breath. “Dean.”

His eyes burned with emotion, but he closed them as he held you tight. All he could do was press his lips against your forehead in relief.

You clung to him right back, for as long as you needed to.

AN: Fun fact — According to Egyptian mythology, the only thing that could stop the goddess Sekhmet from ending humanity with bloodshed was by getting her drunk on beer, which had been dyed red to simulate blood (which she also liked to drink, apparently).

Egyptians (the survivors) would drink beer mixed with pomegranate juice and get drunk to celebrate not being killed dead. (Woo!)

Anyway, let me know if you enjoyed Part 2! All the fluff is coming in the finale of Part 3, very soon…

Next Time:

Dean brings you home. The two of you figure out how to move on from here...

Keep Reading: Bonus Track #3

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flower-boi16 · 5 months

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Why Seeing Stars' Thematic Messaging Doesn't Work

So…Seeing Stars. I used to think it was one of the better episodes of Season 2, but unfortunately, my opinion of it soured over time. It went from a 6.5/10 to a 4.5/10 the more I thought about it. Something that especially disappoints me about the episode is how it handles its thematic messages. Here I’m going to explain why Seeing Stars fails to execute its thematic messages that while are great messages, they sadly fail in execution

1. What is Seeing Stars Trying to Do?

Before I talk about why Seeing Star’s messages don’t work let’s first establish what’s the message the episode is trying to convey. It's basically a message about how while fathers can be heavily flawed and make mistakes sometimes they do still love their kids and are still trying to be the best father they can and that they do genuinely mean well. The episode also tries to draw a parallel between Loona and Octavia with their relationships with their fathers (Blitz and Stolas respectively), with how they both have fathers that are heavily flawed but do still care for them and are just trying.

I actually do really like the message that the episode is trying to spread. I think it's very sweet and could work well...but unfortunately, while the episode's ideas aren't bad, the execution isn't exactly great.

2. Octavia and Stolas

Now that we've established what message Seeing Stars is trying to convey, let's talk about why the episode fails to execute its themes properly. First, let's talk about the parallel that the episode tries to draw between Loona and Octavia's relationships with their fathers; like I already said, the parallel is supposed to be about how they both have heavily flawed fathers that do genuinely care for them and while they do make mistakes or fuck up they are still trying.

The issue with this parallel is that the episode wants you to think that Stolas is a father who while makes mistakes and is heavily flawed is still a loving and caring dad to Octavia that cares for her, hell Loona even says that Octavia should cut Stolas some slack because he's trying to be the best father he can...

...even though Stolas is a shit parent. This is where we run into the first problem with this message; the episode tells us that Stolas is a heavily flawed but loving father who's trying to be the best father he can for his daughter but it runs hollow once you factor in Stolas' behavior towards Octavia in both Loo Loo Land and this very episode, the two episodes where he interacts the most with Octavia. In the former, he pays more attention to Blitz than he does to his own daughter and constantly neglects her until she runs away and gets upset, meanwhile in this very episode Stolas focuses more on his divorce with Stella and calls Stella a bitch right in front of Octavia, and breaks his promise to go see the stars with her because he's more focused on his divorce with Stella.

This calls into question "good dad who makes mistakes but is still trying" that the episode is trying to paint Stolas as because none of the episodes that focus on his relationship with Octavia ever show him being a good dad who's just trying, rather it shows someone who pays attention to others rather than his own daughter and who his daughter has to cry and run away from to actually get his attention.

It gets worse once you factor in the line where Loona says to cut Stolas some slack, because now rather than the thoughtful message the episode wanted to convey, it instead comes across as the show once again coddling Stolas and ignoring his mistakes in favor of painting him as an UwU soft boy who did nothing wrong. Even worse, Octavia is treated as in the wrong for getting upset at Stolas here just like how Blitz is treated as in the wrong for getting upset at him too, when both are justified for getting mad at Stolas.

The show never showed Stolas as a father who while heavily flawed genuinely cared for her daughter and was trying his best, rather it showed a father who pays more attention to other people rather than his own daughter, so this whole message about Stolas and the parallel the episode tries to bring rings hollow, and it instead comes across as the show making Stolas into a creators pet and coddling him despite his mistakes as a father, yet the show tries gaslighting you into thinking otherwise.

3. Loona and Blitz

Now that I've covered why the message doesn't work from Octavia's side, now it's time to talk about why It doesn't work from Loona's side. Once again we come back to the line where Loona says that while sometimes dad's fuck up they do legitimately mean well, and how Octavia should cut his dad some slack. I first need to talk about Loona's behavior in this episode to explain why this doesn't work.

Loona acts very uncharacteristically nasty in this episode to Blitz all because he gave constructive criticism about how she acts towards clients. Like, she straight-up attacks him by throwing knives and beating him. Which is why it comes across as very annoying when Loona says that dad's fuck up all the time but it does still mean they're trying, because...Blitz didn't fuck up. She did. He has done nothing but love and care for her, yes he's overprotective but for good reason, and she repays him by being a massive bitch to him just because he gave her some mild criticism over how she was handling clients.

Blitz wasn't the one fucking up here, Loona did. Yes he did threaten to get rid of her, but she was the one who suggested it in the first place. Blitz is a father that does love his daughter and is trying his best to take care of her, but Loona comes across as a bitch here with how she's acts to him AND how she says that he was the one who fucked up when really she was.

This also especially makes Loona a massive hypocrite here; she's telling Octavia to cut her dad some slack because he's trying his best, but she isn't exactly treating her father very well either. And I'll just bring up Loona's conversation with Octavia again; she says that fathers my fuck up all the time but they are still trying and that's what matters, and how Octavia should cut Stolas some slack. You'd think that this would be the moment where Loona realizes her mistake and that she should also cut Blitz some slack, learns to appreciate her father a lot more, and goes to apologize to Blitz after they reunite with him and Stolas...

...except that's not what happened. Instead of apologizing to Blitz for how she acted she kicks him in the balls when he tries to hug her even AFTER he apologizes for threatening to get rid of her and hits his face with a book when he tries to get up. All of this makes Loona's conversation with Octavia feel completely hollow as Loona comes across as a massive hypocrite here with how she treats Blitz.

4. Conclusion

So ya, I hope you can now understand why Seeing Stars' themes and messages fall flat on their face. I do still have a soft spot for this episode due to it being the only episode in the whole show that got me cry the first time while watching it, but now while this episode is still a guilty pleasure of mine, I can admit that objectively it fails at conveying its core message due to it not working within both the context of the episode itself and the rest of the show.

#helluva boss critical #helluva boss criticism #hazbin hotel critical #vivziepop critical #seeing stars

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film-bro-hotch · 1 year

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I'll Cowboy the Best - Hotch x Fem!Reader - one shot

I have been working on this one for a little bit, but it has been so fun. This is 100% self-indulgent (like most of my stuff), but I really hope you all like it. I have to give credit where credit is due, though, because I used to despise the holidays. It wasn't until living with @honeypiehotchner that I have maybe started to like them a little. What was supposed to be a funny cowboy!Hotch fic has now turned into a Holiday Season cowboy!Hotch fic. Thanks, K. The month of December is a bit more tolerable because of you ;)

Synopsis: You are visiting family on their Texas farm for the holidays and decide it's time your boyfriend meet your parents. One of your problems, though, is that your family isn't too fond of him. There is nearly a 10 year age gap between the two of you, and worst of all, he is your boss. Hotch is determined to make them like him, even if that means saddling up and playing the part of a cowboy.

Warnings: This is an age-gap relationship, but these two are both consenting adults. Reader is near 30 - we don't do that huge age gap stuff. Also there are discussions about the inherent power dynamics between you and Hotch with him as your boss. But mostly this is fluff! This is a happy story!

WC: 8.2k

Find me a horse that I can cover Find me some stars to sleep under Find me a train, I’ll hop out west If she wants a cowboy, I’ll cowboy the best

You watched his hand flex as he gripped the wheel a little bit tighter. Usually this kind of behavior was reserved for when you were in a high-speed chase trying to catch an unsub and Hotch was about to pull some stupid move and drift an SUV in a way that it certainly wasn’t made to do.

But that wasn’t the case. You were on day two of your trip down to visit family, and you had switched off drivers a few hours ago. You had offered to drive the rest of the way since you knew the town, but Hotch insisted for some reason you couldn’t quite figure out yet. Driving instead of flying was your idea in the first place anyway.

He looked less than enthused, but you somehow managed to talk him into it. You only had about 30 minutes before you were supposed to make it to your family’s Texas ranch, and he seemed to be getting more stressed by the minute.

“Aaron, are you good? You’ve been tense for the past hour, and we aren’t on a crowded interstate.” Truth be told, you had only passed maybe 5 other cars in that time.

“I’m okay, really. I’m just…a little nervous.”

It was something that you hadn’t really thought of. It would make sense, though. Meeting the parents was something nerve-wracking anyway, but Hotch probably hadn’t had to do it since high school. And your parents were already…not exactly thrilled with him. He was almost ten years older than you, and he was your boss. Both your mom and your dad were quick to point out the implications, and the trouble both of you could get into for dating. You had mostly brushed it off, changed the subject or made an excuse to hang up the phone, but being there for the holidays made it much more difficult to ignore.

You were gentle as you placed a hand on his shoulder, rubbing your thumb along his muscle. “It’s going to be okay, I promise. Once they get to know you, they are going to love you just as much as I do.”

He played off a laugh and muttered, “Well I hope not that much,” to which you promptly slapped the arm you had just been caressing.

“You know what I meant,” you said with a pointed gaze, but that smirk on your face let him know you weren’t actually mad.

The rest of the ride was uneventful, the majority of your scenery being flat, snow-covered farmland and the occasional herd of cows. Your family’s ranch was one of the closer ones to town, meaning that it was still a good 20 minutes to any store. You could tell that Hotch was analyzing everything as they entered the driveway, committing all of it to memory. The driveway was still gravel, the familiar sound of tires crushing and compacting the rocks and snow beneath settled your nerves a little. The house you grew up in was the exact same as the day you left to move to Virginia. A one story brick home, classic white shutters and a porch that looked like it needed to be restained. Your mother had her Christmas lights on the porch, though it was more because she never took them down than her getting into the holiday spirit.

The farm was mostly corn, some pole beans and cucumbers planted throughout to help with the soil, though none of that was planted now with the cold. The other half of the land was grazing for the cows, goats, and chickens, and a small barn kept the few horses your parents still had around.

“You didn’t tell me it was a farm,” he said with a cocked eyebrow. You might have fibbed a little and just said you lived on a lot of land growing up, which wasn’t untrue.

“You never asked,” you said simply. You were already out of the car before he could say anything more. It was the perfect kind of cold outside. Just a little nippy to wake you up, but no harsh wind feeling like it was cutting your cheeks open. You had only grabbed one bag of your luggage when you heard the screen door open, followed by quick steps on the gravel as your mother called your name. She pulled you into a hug, kissing the side of your head and then your cheek.

“It is so good to see you! I was just telling your daddy, I can’t believe the two of you drove all the way here!” she said. You looked over at Aaron, offering him an encouraging smile.

It didn’t last too long, though. You hadn’t even heard the screen door open, but your dad had found his way outside at some point and was leaning against the porch railing. “He could have easily bought y'all tickets.” So this was how the trip was starting.

Aaron may have had so much experience with confrontation, but you could still see his tells, his little ticks that gave away his nerves. Usually his shoulders were relaxed and he stood at his full height. You could see the tension even through his winter coat. He was slouching a little, perhaps bringing himself a bit lower. Even with that, he towered over your dad. You were about to defend him, tell your dad it was your idea, but Aaron spoke first, talking as he walked over to your dad.

“Good thing we didn’t fly. That front coming in has delayed or canceled almost every flight out of D.C. Besides, I wouldn’t want to hassle you with having to pick us up at the airport,” he started, offering his hand to shake. “Aaron Hotchner.”

Your dad wasn’t the most cheery person anyway, but you could tell he wasn’t exactly thrilled at having Aaron here. He did, however, pride himself on being a gentleman, so he shook his hand. “Curtis L/N. Good to finally meet you in person.”

“You too. Y/N has told me so much about you and your wife. I’m curious to see how much of what she told me is true.” He was taking a risky move joking like that, but at the very least it got a huff out of your dad, which was better than the blank stare you would get sometimes when you made a joke.

“Come on, let’s get inside! I don’t want to freeze my ass off,” you said, earning a look of disapproval from your mother for the curse, but the two of you grabbed the bags from the car and followed the men inside.

Your mother, being the gracious host she always had to be, left the bags by the door and pointed down the hall. “Now at the very end is the spare bedroom that you can sleep in, Aaron. It’s got a little bathroom attached to it,” she then turned to look at you, “you can just use our bathroom, sweetie.” Oh, you should have expected this. You knew your parents were traditional, so of course there was no way they were going to let you share a room with him unless you had his last name.

While you loved your parents and were happy to see them after living in D.C. for so long, you were quite tired, and there was only so much of them you could take. “Thanks, mom, but I think Aaron and I are pretty tired. We’ve been driving all day, so we might turn in a little early.” You look at Hotch, expecting him to agree, but he seemed quite determined to get your parents to like him.

“I can stay up and talk a little longer,” he started, but your dad was already waving his hand dismissively.

“I’m usually out like a light before 8:00. I ain’t got much socializing left in me today,” he said, to which Aaron gave a quick nod, wished your parents good night, and went to the guest bedroom. If you were able to follow him, you would joke that your dad sounded a little like him. He may pull late nights at the BAU, but if he could keep from socializing, he would.

You may have been in your childhood bedroom, but you found it incredibly hard to sleep that night. Perhaps it was because you had been away so long that the place felt foreign to you now. Maybe it was the anxiety of your parent’s approval, or maybe it was the fear that after meeting your family, Hotch wouldn’t want to stay in the relationship. You chastised yourself for that one. You knew it was a stupid thought. You grabbed the phone on your nightstand, deciding to text him.

Maybe it’s a good thing we didn’t get to share a room. We wouldn’t have been able to get away with anything with that squeaky mattress. I can hear you every time you turn

His reply was quick, almost like he had been debating texting you as well. I feel like I’m sixteen again.

I told you I would make you feel younger

Not exactly the way I thought you would do it.

You stared at the message for a moment, knowing he probably felt some of the same anxieties, which was saying something considering Aaron Hotchner was not an anxious person. You should go ahead and get some sleep. They will probably be up early working

I love you.

I love you too

—

You woke up the next morning a little earlier than you usually would have, though you attributed it to the fact that you went to bed pretty early, and you were dealing with a time change, so it was really closer to 9:00 back home. You could smell breakfast in the kitchen, likely cooked a while ago and your mother left it out for you to reheat whenever you got up. When you walked out, you could see the door to the guest room open, but when you peeked inside, Hotch wasn’t there.

Going down the hall to the kitchen, he wasn’t in there either. You went about your business, fixing a plate of eggs, bacon, biscuits with gravy, and a little bit of grits. Coffee had been brewed probably an hour ago, but you fixed yourself a cup, stirring in sugar and cream before heading outside to the porch where you knew your parents were probably sitting and drinking their coffee. They had probably already worked this morning, feeding the cows and chickens and horses.

It was still cold, but most of the snow had melted, and your dad had put heaters by the porch for this very reason. Your mom does this every morning and still complains that it’s cold, so I had to fix something, he had said to you on the phone one night. A heater didn’t sound too bad right then.

“Mornin’ sweetheart,” you heard the moment the screen door creaked open.

“Morning,” you replied, taking the rocking chair on the other side of your mother, “Have you seen Aaron this morning?”

“He went out into town a little bit ago. Said he forgot a couple things and needed to run to the store. I’m having him pick up some more Folgers while he’s out,” she said, cradling her vintage coffee mug in her hand with a smug smile. You know that partly why she missed you was because she missed sending someone else into town. But what could Aaron have possibly missed? He was so particular when it came to packing. He had lists for his lists, and he went over everything with a fine-toothed comb.

You were about halfway through your breakfast and cup of coffee when you heard the sound of tires against the gravel. You cradled your cup, watching as Aaron stepped out of the car, going to the back and picking up a few grocery bags, a hand behind his back. He swiftly moved up the steps to the porch, kissing your cheek and whispering, “Morning.” He revealed his arm and handed a bouquet of flowers, blue hydrangeas mixed with baby’s breath. The second bouquet he handed to your mother along with a comically large red tin. “I didn’t forget about you. Sunflowers and a value-sized Folgers classic roast for you.” You knew what he was doing, and it was totally working on your mom.

“Aaron, you shouldn’t have,” she said as she took the flowers, inspecting each petal carefully.

“In the Christmas spirit already, St. Nick?” you teased, looking up at him from behind your mug. He had a half grin on his face, shrugging his shoulders.

“Maybe for some people,” he joked dryly.

He made his way inside, presumably to go about putting the groceries away.

Your mother started a little conversation, asking you a few things about your job, D.C., and about Aaron. It wasn’t long before that conversation turned into your mother going on about the town gossip. How Claire that you went to high school with was married and had two kids with her highschool sweetheart, how they still lived down the road from their parents. You loved yours, but you could not fathom staying in the same zip code as them as an adult. She told you about her hairdresser and how “Bless her heart, she’s new, so she doesn’t quite know what I like yet.”

At some point during the conversation, your dad had made his way inside, his cup of coffee gone as well. It was when you made the realization that your boyfriend was now left alone with your dad that the door opened, both men walking out and heading down the porch steps.

“Where are you guys going?” you asked, trying to hide the concern in your voice.

“I’m just going to show him around the farm,” your dad said, but there was a glint in his eye that told you he was going to do much more. Aaron looked back at you with a look that screamed help me and was perhaps the most boyish you had seen him in your relationship. As much as you wanted, you couldn’t really do anything, so you watched them walk down the gravel drive toward the barn and said a silent prayer that your father wasn’t planning on killing a federal agent.

“And this right here is my 57’ Thunderbird. I don’t take her out much, only on special occasions.” Curtis had been showing Hotch around the barn for about thirty minutes, telling him all about how it worked, how the hay was kept in the loft which had holes to the feeding troughs in each stall. He seemed the picture of calm, but Hotch could tell he was just waiting for the right moment to talk about the elephant in the room. The older man turned to Hotch, and he expected it to be then that he asked him why the hell he was messing with his daughter.

“You ever rode a horse, Aaron?”

He was taken aback by the question. He had been prepared for anything - for accusations, for an interrogation, for some kind of psychoanalysis, but this…

“No, I haven’t,” he replied hesitantly. “Why are you asking me this.”

“Because you are going to ride a horse today, boy.”

Hotch had decided that this was worse than any kind of interrogation he was expecting from your father. No, this had to be some kind of divine punishment for a wrongdoing he couldn’t fathom. He should have been offended that your dad called him “boy.” He hadn’t been called that in decades.

Curtis had already left him by the vintage car and was walking toward a section of the barn to the side with concrete floors. One half looked to be open stalls for grooming, and the other side was filled with saddles, blankets, different ropes and metal chains. He had no idea what was used for what, and part of him was terrified your dad had a murder weapon hidden amongst everything. What should have been the trim by the ceiling was covered with award ribbons of various colors, but an overwhelming amount seemed to be blue. Upon further inspection, it looked as though they were organized by year. The wall closest to the stables held a corkboard with no more room for pictures or trinkets. Tickets and newspaper clippings covered each other, a cluster of memories dating back to around the same time as the ribbons on the wall.

“How much did she tell you? About all this?” Curtis asked, motioning to the board and ribbons.

“She would bring it up sometimes. Always fondly. She told me the family showed livestock and raced horses.”

Curtis crossed his arms, an almost sad sense of nostalgia filling his tone. “Not so much anymore. It’s not as big as it used to be, and I’m getting a little old for hog-tying a calf.”

Hotch found himself laughing, a little surprised he actually cracked a joke.

“There was one time we were in Montana for a case. We were in the middle of nowhere in the mountains, and the local police helping us were all on horses for our search. She joined them like it was nothing. One of our coworkers asked why she never told us she could ride, and she just smiled and said we never asked.” The more Aaron thought about it, the more he realized in that instance you sounded a bit like your dad. He could see now why you put up with his dry sense of humor, and why you had a bit of it too.

“Don’t worry, I’ll go easy on you today,” Curtis started, grabbing a saddle. It was an older one compared to the shiny, brighter ones displayed on the wall. This one was still a deep reddish brown but had discoloration in the most well-loved spots. Decorative etchings lined the leather, and silver pieces whose design was near flat adorned places where leathers met. Curtis handed him the saddle, picking up a blanket and a few other roped materials for the horse.

The two walked back into the stabled area, and Curtis stopped at one of the few stalls that actually had a horse inside. “Now most of them go out in the pasture, but Ole Handsome here likes his solitude.” The horse was like salt and pepper, a white sprinkled throughout with gray and black. It was hard to tell exactly what was his color and what was dirt.

“Ole Handsome?” Hotch asked, raising a brow.

“We got him when Y/N was about 15 I think. Even for a colt he was a scrawny little thing. Looked just pitiful, but she loved him. I started callin him Ole Handsome as a joke, and it just stuck. Now he fits the name.”

It was an odd moment for Aaron, looking at this animal, a tangible piece of your past that you rarely shared. It made him smile just a bit.

Hotch stood back and watched as your father led the horse out of the stable, slipping the bridle onto the horse with an ease that showed that had both done it a million times before. He went along with the blanket, adding the saddle on top and tightening it with expert hands. Your dad looked back at Hotch, motioning him forward. He wasn’t going to admit it, but the fact that this creature was nearly as tall as him and could easily crush him scared the shit out of him.

“Now what you’ll do is put your left foot in the stirrup, yup, that thing right there,” he pointed as Hotch followed his words. “Now grab a little bit of his mane.”

“His hair?” Aaron asked, unable to hide his shock. Was he trying to trick him? Would this horse not just bolt the moment he tugged on its hair?

“Well you don’t put all your damn weight on it,” Curtis said, motioning to the other side of the saddle. “You’re gonna hold on to that with your other hand and push yourself up with the stirrup. Holding the mane is just so you are holding on to something else. It ain’t gonna bother him if you pull just a little. It’s like brushing hair with a knot.”

Aaron was hesitant, but he gently placed his left hand on the horse’s mane, taking a fistful while trying to be gentle. He wasn’t sure why he was surprised by the texture. It was much more coarse and wiry than he had been expecting. “Don’t kill me,” he breathed to the horse before placing his other hand on the other side of the saddle and pushing himself up, swinging his leg over and finding the other stirrup.

Curtis looked half surprised, half impressed. “Wasn’t so hard, now was it?” he asked, taking the reins and pulling them in the front so he could lead the horse. “Now you’ll want to sit up straight when you’re riding. Put your hands on the pommel of the saddle. I’ll just walk him around a few circles so you’ll know how it feels.” He made a soft clicking sound with his mouth and gave a gentle tug on the reins, and Ole Handsome gave a snort before moving forward. The motion at first was a little jarring. Hotch felt like he had to fight to keep balance, though he attributed that more to his nerves than anything else.

The motion of the saddle almost reminded him of ocean waves, a rocking that sent him forward and back. It was a rhythm that was jarring at first, but after a few circles became welcomed.

“See, not so bad,” Curtis said. “Want to take it up to a trot?”

To be honest, Hotch didn’t know exactly what that entailed, but he was willing to try just about anything to win your dad’s favor. “Sure,” he said, finding himself holding on to the saddle a little bit tighter.

—

You and your mother had been watching the boys from inside the house as the two of you cleaned up breakfast. It started as fearful glances to the barn, making sure you still saw his figure standing by your father in the hopes that your dad hadn’t killed him and hid his body. You could see the two of them talking by your dad’s vintage car, but between drying a few dishes, they had left and weren’t in your eyesight. You were watching out of your own fear and anxiety, your mother was watching because she found it incredibly entertaining.

You tried to tell yourself to calm down, that you were overthinking and working yourself up, and you did manage to calm down a little bit. You had fixed yourself a hot cup of tea and had joined your mother by the heater on the porch. It was upon sitting down in the rocking chair and looking into the barn that you saw your boyfriend riding your horse.

“Holy shit,” you said, not even bothering to censor yourself for your mother’s sake. “What the hell is dad doing?”

“Language,” your mother said with a pointed gaze, sipping on her second cup of coffee. “Evidently your father conned your poor boyfriend into getting on Ole Handsome. I’m just keeping an eye on the two of them.”

So much of you was terrified for Hotch, but part of you was shocked your father even managed to get him on, and another part was impressed because Aaron was actually doing well.

“Don’t look so scared. Your daddy won’t kill him, at least I don’t think,” your mother had said, moving back and forth in her rocking chair, a fuzzy blanket in her lap, covering her lower half.

Later your father would swear that it was a barn mouse that scurried in front of your horse. You thought it was a little more intentional, but either way, something scared Ole Handsome, enough for your father to lose grip on the lead as he sprinted off towards the pasture, Aaron holding on surprisingly well. You practically skipped the steps of the porch in your haste, running through the barn to chase after the two. When you caught sight of Aaron, he was off the horse, pulling himself up from the ground, dusting off an arm of his jacket.

“Are you okay? I just saw Handsome bolt,” you said, taking him by the shoulder and looking him over.

He brushed your hand off, somehow having good spirits about the whole thing. Did he get a concussion? What seemed to shock you the most was that he actually started laughing.

It took him a moment to actually stop laughing, and you could have sworn you saw a tear in the corner of his eye. “In all my career, I’ve been shot at, I’ve gotten my ass kicked, I have been in multiple car chases and accidents, but nothing has scared me as much as when that thing started to run.”

You heard your dad’s jogging footsteps behind you, calling out, “You okay, Aaron?”

Hotch gave him a breathless thumbs up. “Never been better, Mr. L/N.”

And you had never heard a more obvious lie. Yesterday’s snow had mostly melted away by then, but you knew it was still cold. The ground was still frozen and hard, and Hotch was sure to have a mark wherever he landed.

“Y’all go on inside. I’ll go fetch Handsome before he tears down one of my damn fences again,” your father said, giving Hotch a quick pat on his arm, the one you hoped he didn’t fall on. “I gotta admit, you did a hell of a lot better than I thought you would.”

Aaron gave a little half laugh, something between finding a genuine humor in the situation and not knowing what else to do. “Thanks,” he said. You could hear the edge of a question in his voice, something that told you he wasn’t quite sure if he meant it or not. As the two of you walked back, your arm locked with his, you reassured him that your dad wasn’t one to give out compliments. Hotch joked and asked if that was considered a compliment, and you couldn’t help the smile that came to your face.

“In his own little way, yeah. And right now we are going to take what we can get.”

You took care of Hotch for the rest of the day, coddled him really. He tried to tell you that he was fine, that it didn’t hurt more than anything he had gotten on the job. You pointedly told him that was a terrible scale considering most of the BAU had been shot at some point in their career. He only agreed a little, but you think he enjoyed the peace the day brought after his hectic morning.

The two of you sat on the couch most of the day, curled up against each other with a blanket as you kept the Hallmark channel on. Your mom joined for one of the movies considering these were her favorite things to watch during the holiday season. You may have inherited a love for their cheesy, cliche nature from her. Meanwhile, Aaron would point out plot inconsistencies or try to psychoanalyze the characters. You would throw a piece of popcorn at his face when he would, rolling your eyes and saying, “Aaron, babe, these movies aren’t supposed to be that serious. Now shut up and watch the successful journalist find her true love from high school in her hometown coffee shop.”

You weren’t sure what movie you were on when you dozed off, your head on Aaron’s shoulder and his arm around you as he suffered through the cheesy movie you weren’t awake to watch. Your mother had gone to bed not too long ago. You were beginning to nod back into reality, and you noticed your side was colder than before, whatever body heat Aaron had given you was gone with him. You were starting to tune into a conversation in the kitchen.

“You really want to help out? 5:00a.m. I want you up and ready by then. I’ve got to feed the animals, and one of the fences needs repair.”

Was your dad really trying to get Aaron to help around the farm? You started to stir on the couch which quickly hushed both voices. When you looked up, Aaron was taking steps toward you.

“Sorry if I woke you. The couch was starting to kill my back a little. Maybe an actual bed would be better to rest on after getting thrown off a horse.”

You gave a soft nod, still half asleep. “Yeah. Are you going to bed?”

“Yeah,” he said, nodding towards your dad in the kitchen, “early morning tomorrow.”

Aaron was no stranger to waking up early, though he hadn’t exactly planned on getting up that early during his time off. It’s okay, this is all for her. Just get him to tolerate you, he told himself. Your dad didn’t need to become his biggest fan. He just needed to see that he cared for you. And if that meant getting up before the sun and shoveling frozen shit in the snow, he would do it.

Five in the morning came much sooner than Aaron wanted it to. The sun wasn’t even up, so he found himself yawning much more than he would have cared for. At the very least, his new purchases would come into use. When he went out into town the day before, he did stop by the grocery store for flowers and coffee, but he also stopped by one of the stores that were tailored for western and work wear. The amount he spent buying work boots, cowboy boots, even a high-quality hat…Rossi would have laughed in his face if he ever found out.

He pulled on the steel-toed boots, a slick design that he at least could find a way to style later. He didn’t want to drop nearly $200 on shoes he was just buying to appeal to your parents - he already did that with more traditional boots. Hotch pulled his puffer jacket a little closer and made his way to the porch where Curtis was already sitting with a cup of coffee. Of course.

As he opened the screen door, Curtis looked down at his watch, raising a brow. “Couple minutes late, but to be honest I thought you would have slept through morning chores,” he said, his eyes finally meeting Hotch and looking him up and down.

“What the hell are you wearing?” Curtis asked, his eyes specifically pointed down at his shoes. Well shit, Hotch thought, these clearly weren’t the right boots.

“They are work boots…with the steel toe,” he said, tapping the porch with the end of his boot.

“They are Blundstones,” Curtis said bluntly.

What did that even mean? “Is that not good?”

“Well for one, that’s the cleanest work boot I’ve ever seen. Second, Blundstones are what the frilly boys down in Houston wear when they want to look the part. Any real worker is wearing Ariat or Carhartt. Simple as that.”

Yes, the hierarchy of work boots. Simple as that.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he said, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jacket. “Let’s get to work.”

It had snowed when they arrived, and though most of it had left yesterday, sometime during the night it started again. There wasn’t much on the ground, but it was still falling. He figured they would have a decent bit by the time you and your mother were up. While it was still relatively dark outside, the whiteness of the snow seemed to give just a little more light.

“First order of business, it’s cold enough that the top of the water in the horse’s trough might be frozen,” he continued on as he handed Aaron some kind of metal rod and gloves, “Just break it and get the chunks of ice out for them. Once that is done, you can get the feed out of this bucket here. Two scoops should do the trick, and if the goat that hangs out with the horses cries for more, don’t listen.”

Aaron followed the orders dutifully, feeling like he was back in training when he first joined the FBI. Sure enough, like Curtis said, the water at the top was frozen, but it didn’t take much to break it apart, tossing the glass-looking shards of ice to the side. He turned the buckets over, ridding them of the snow that had accumulated during the night and started to fill them with food. He had only put one scoop in when he heard a sound like thunder, a group of horses making their way to the edge of the fence, crunching snow beneath them. A little goat, white as the snow and with stumps on his head where it looked like horns should have been, followed right behind them.

Hotch continued to fill the buckets, putting two scoops in like Curtis had said. The horses had started to eat, and when he approached the last one, the goat seemed to be waiting patiently like some well-trained golden retriever. He placed the two scoops in and turned to leave, stopping only when he heard a loud bleating sound from the goat.

“I’m not giving you anymore,” he said dryly.

The goat bleated again.

“No.”

It cried again, an awful wavering sound with a touch of an attitude behind it.

“For God’s-”

“Hotchner, are you yelling at the damn goat?” Curtis called from the barn.

“No, sir,” he called back, his jaw setting as he looked back at the animal. “No more food,” he whispered, walking back towards the barn.

Curtis was already putting gloves on, a roll of barbed wire by his side. He handed Hotch a shovel and what looked to be a metal fence post. “Handsome wasn’t very kind to my fence after he threw you off yesterday,” he muttered, though he seemed rather unphased by it all. The more he spent time on the farm, the more he wondered how anyone could see these animals normally. Yeah, the five-foot-tall, nine-hundred-pound thing running and ripping your fence out of the ground is pretty normal.

The two men walked along the fencing and frozen ground, soon enough coming up to the post and wire that needed replacing. Even with the gloves, Hotch’s hands were freezing. The kind of cold where it almost feels like they are burning. “Let’s get this over with so we can go inside and get some coffee,” Aaron said, earning a raised brow from your father.

“Chickening out already?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Well then get to diggin’.”

The ground was much harder to break than he thought it would be, but the physical work at least warmed him up a little. After a few hard strikes with the shovel, he finally had enough depth to where he could push the post in securely. Once the post was in, repairing the fence didn’t take long. Curtis connected it to the rest of the fencing and checked the stability before he called it a day and said the two of them should head inside.

Hotch was happy to take off his coat and start brewing the coffee. The sun was just starting to appear, though it seemed that neither you or your mother were up yet. Curtis walked into the kitchen, grabbing a cup for himself. “You know, Aaron, I’ve got a confession to make.”

Whatever followed those words was never good. “Okay.”

“Usually I don’t make guests do farm work like that, you know. But after seeing you get on that horse yesterday…I kinda just wanted to see how far you would go. You seemed committed to trying to impress me, so I thought it would be fun to test it, and I believe I was right.”

Hotch leaned against the counter for a moment, listening to the coffee maker groan as the pot filled with the steaming liquid he hoped would get him through the conversation to come. “And? Are you impressed?”

“I suppose for a fed I shouldn’t be surprised by your dedication. I guess what I am still trying to figure out is why an older man like yourself, with a son, would want someone like my daughter. The answers to those questions are never something a dad wants to hear, but you can figure why I wanna know. Not to mention that you are her boss, and I won’t have you screwing up her career. I hate not to have her home, but that job makes her proud, and I won’t have you fuckin’ it up for her.”

Aaron didn’t want to admit it, but all of those were valid points. The optics of your relationship were…questionable at best. He knew that the moment you started your relationship. It was still something kept on the down low, even though you were practically living together. No one else in the BAU knew…except Rossi. He knew Hotch a little too well and connected the dots. And he caught the two of you having dinner out one night. Being aware of the faults didn’t get rid of the inherent power dynamics, though. Aaron was in a position of power over you, and the thought that you could have felt pressured at all made him sick.

“I know there is not much I can do about our age differences or the fact that she works under me, but I want you to know that there is nothing I wouldn’t do for your daughter, Mr. L/N. If need be, I have paperwork ready for a transfer. I would rather lose my job than lose her.”

It was the first time Hotch saw genuine shock cross Curtis’s face. “So you have actually thought about this?”

“I have…a lot. And I know that your daughter makes me the happiest I have ever been, and I hope I do the same for her. It’s why I got up this early on my time off to help, it’s why I agreed to ride that stupid horse and not complain when he threw me off. It’s why I dropped nearly $700 dollars on boots and a hat.” That last part kept the shock on Curtis’s face. “I did it because you are important to her, so I wanted you to like me.”

Curtis seemed to process all that he said, crossing his arms and starting to quietly fix his cup of coffee. Was he just going to leave the conversation there? He could see a slight rise and drop in his shoulders as he fixed the drink, and it took Hotch a little too long to realize he was laughing at him.

“You’ve gotta be some special kind of stupid if you thought spending that much money on boots and a hat was gonna make me like you more. You really are a fed…but you’re alright, I reckon.”

He was alright. It was much better than any other outcome that has run through his head. “Thank you, sir.”

“Ah, now don’t get ahead of yourself. I’m still not exactly fond of your relationship…but you make her happy, and it’s pretty clear she’s doing the same for you.”

In the end, that was all that mattered to Hotch. That you were happy, and that he was the reason.

—

Like the morning before. You woke up more from the sun being in your eyes than your body telling you to wake up. The snow made the reflection of the sun much brighter. You groaned as you made your way out of bed, throwing on sweatpants and walking into the kitchen to find a sight you never thought possible.

Aaron and your dad were in the kitchen. They had both borrowed your mother’s aprons and were in the process of finishing up making breakfast.

“Did Hell freeze over while I was asleep?” you asked, unable to hide just how baffled you were at the sight. You were sure your dad hated him.

“Sweetie, sometimes Christmas miracles do happen. Best not balk at them,” your dad joked. Aaron just gave a shrug that said something along the lines of “take what you can get.” Most of the food was already on the table and ready, the sunflowers Aaron had given your mother yesterday were in a vase at the center.

The spread on the table was a lot like the day before. Eggs, bacon, grits, and all the fixings. What was new, though, was the addition of pancakes that seemed to have something in them. “Are those pancakes with pecans?” you asked, a little more excited than you meant to sound.

“Just for you,” Aaron added, placing the bottle of maple syrup by them. The two of you would often make these at either of your apartments, usually listening to The Beatles’ white album from front to back. Sometimes you would even catch Aaron using the whisk as a microphone when he thought you weren’t looking.

You couldn’t help the feeling of peace that a breakfast like this gave you. Having your parents there reminded you of when you were a kid, but the kind of domesticity that was Aaron Hotchner making pancakes with a stupid apron was something that just couldn’t be replicated. It was simple, but it was perhaps what made you happiest.

After breakfast, you decided to take Aaron out for a walk, wanting to see how he was holding up with the pressure of your father. Selfishly, you also wanted to see if maybe he was thinking the apple didn’t fall far from the tree.

The snow under your feet was near perfect. Fluffy, not too frozen or mixed too much with water that hadn’t turned to snow. Each step it crunched under your boot with a satisfying sound. You forgot how beautiful the farm looked in winter. Icicles dangled from the gutter of the barn and little beads of melting ice clung to the trees like they were ornaments. The sun was out and heating up the land just a little to start to melt the snowy landscape, but for this moment it gave a bright sheen to everything.

Somehow in this snowy place, Aaron looked even better. The sun gave his black hair the lightest hints of a ruddy brown. The cool, nippy air gave his cheeks and the tip of his nose a dusted red hue. You were sure the tips of his ears looked that way too, though you couldn’t see for his beanie. He looked softer, more at peace than the supervisory special agent you knew at the BAU. This wasn’t Hotch. This was Aaron. This was the man you had fallen in love with. Even in the cold, bundled up like this with him felt like home.

“You know, this is the perfect snow for building stuff,” you said casually, looking at him out of the corner of your eye.

“Hm?” he raised a brow, seeming to wonder where you were going with this. You pulled away from his arm, leaning down and grabbing a handful of snow.

“You know, it’s perfect for snowmen and forts. When I was a kid I would make a snowman and then try and make snow farm animals,” you said, continuing to pack snow into a tight little unit. “Hey, Aaron?” you mused, waiting for him to look over before taking the compressed ball of snow and chucking it right at his face. It exploded right at his forehead, taking his beanie off. Flakes of snow clung to his hair, his eyebrows, his lashes. You could see a scowl starting to form on his face, and you were worried if you actually had hurt him or annoyed him.

“You know, that was really immature of you,” he started, leaning down to pick up his beanie. You took a step forward, opening your mouth to apologize and instead having it filled with snow as Aaron launched some at your face. You took a step back, nearly losing your balance as you tried to spit out the cold. When you looked up, Aaron was doubled over, laughing and wiping the snow off his brow.

“Oh, that was a dirty move,” you said.

“I didn’t realize we were playing fair,” he said, breathless from his laughter, the clouds of his breath visible.

“We certainly aren’t now.” At the same time you both went for the ground, trying to craft an arsenal of snowballs as fast as you could. You were the first to throw, but he was quick on his feet and dodged, throwing one toward you and pelting you in the shoulder.

You weren’t sure how long this went on for, the two of you running around in the snow like little kids again. The way when you finally made it to his side, you tackled him to the ground. He rolled over, tossing snow in the air, in your face, in both your jackets. It was impractical, and childish, and stupid, and you hadn’t seen a smile this wide on his face in a long time.

The rest of the day was spent much like the day before, sitting at the television with the Hallmark channel going. It was sometime around 4:00 that Aaron spoke up and asked, “How long would it take you to get ready?”

You had an odd look on your face, your brows scrunched as you tried to understand what he could possibly have planned. “An hour, give or take a few minutes. Why?”

He smiled a little, a curl of his lip that didn’t yet show his teeth. “Just get ready. Don’t be too fancy. Pants might be preferable,” he said, pressing a quick kiss to your cheek before leaving the couch. “I’ve got to get a shower before we go.”

You wanted to call after him ‘go where?” but he was already down the hall. He had that look in his eye, the one that showed up when he had a plan for a date night but didn’t want to tell you. Usually he was pretty bad at keeping secrets like that from you, but this time…you really had no clue what he had planned.

It wasn’t until a little over an hour later you sat in the kitchen, flipping through one of your mother’s worn cookbooks that you started to put the pieces together. You had dressed somewhat casually. Jeans, boots, and a nicer top, a jacket hanging on the chair beside you. When Hotch came out from the always, though, you weren’t sure whether you should laugh or find it a little hot.

At his feet were boots. Real boots with the pointed toe, though most of the design was hidden by his jeans. They were…different from the jeans he normally wore. A little tighter and actually showed off his ass a bit. You tried not to stare as he did a little spin, hands on his hip asking if you liked it. The belt buckle was huge, one you couldn’t tell the engraving of from this far away. His shirt was tucked into his jeans, a of type western-styled button-up, each button even up to the very top, done. And the cherry on top of it all was the cowboy hat. His fucking cowboy hat. White, clearly of well quality, and fitting him just right. You didn’t think cowboys were your type, but Hotch as one…you could get behind this.

Your silence seemed to worry him, though, as his face fell a little. “You don’t like it, do you?”

You shook your head, taking a few steps his way. “No, I like it,” you said and unbuttoned the top two buttons. “But now I love it.” You smiled against his lips as yours met his, lingering with your hands on his chest for a moment longer. “Should I even ask how much you spent on all of this?”

“When I let it slip to you dad, he compared me to a frilly Houston boy.”

“Oh, so what I’m hearing is I’ll be paying for food tonight?”

“Now, I never said that. Besides, if I have learned anything about your father, it’s that he liked tradition. So I will be paying, and driving, and dropping you off at a reasonable hour.”

You rolled your eyes a little, but you still had a smile on your face. Your dad and Hotch…you never actually thought the two of them would get along, but somehow he actually managed to win your dad over. Aaron wrapped your coat over your shoulders, your arm holding his as the two of you walked to the car. “Hey Aaron?” you mused, “Could you wear this a little more often?”

“Only for you - and only when we are far away from Virginia.” You gave your cowboy one more longing kiss before the two of you rode off into the night.

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captain-mj · 1 year

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Give me part 2 to the mind thing or I'm going to throw rocks through your window, you dumb whore

(Pretty pls??)

I got you! Please don't throw rocks in my window

~~~~

Soap stayed with Ghost for a while, letting him calm down.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah. That's one of my least favorites."

"Did he do stuff like that a lot?"

Rather than answer, Ghost's hands tightened on him. Soap nodded a little.

"You're not useless. Or weak. You never were."

"I sucked as a kid." Ghost mumbled.

Soap shook his head. "No. No kid deserves that." He pulled him up, holding his arm. "You didn't deserve that."

"Thanks, Johnny. Come on. Let's keep looking." Ghost tugged him along. He didn't pull his arm away so Soap didn't let go. They found their way to a new memory.

It was them at the bar, when Ghost wore the ski mask instead of his balaclava. Soap could feel the anxiety rolling off of him, but to his credit, he had stayed there. Everything was so sharp. Everything, down to the last detail in vivid color.

"I was nervous. Didn't realize how scary it would be." Ghost leaned into him.

Soap looked around. "Still no door. Are you sure that's how we leave?"

Ghost nodded. "Yes... It always is. Those things don't change." He sighed. "It usually doesn't take this long. I'm sorry."

Soap hit his shoulder. "You mention its usually in the memory of the accident. Do you want to check there?"

"I... suppose." Simon sighed. "It would be faster." He led Soap around, holding tighter to him. “It’s a rough memory. I didn’t react well. I just wanted to warn you.”

The door was on the other side of the house, where the front door would be. Soap hadn’t noticed before, but there was Christmas music playing behind it and he could see lights underneath it.

“You can keep your eyes closed.” Soap offered.

“No. I’m okay.” Ghost promised. “I see it a lot.”

Soap nodded and tugged him gently into the room. It was as he expected. All three of them executed and laid out for Ghost to find.

He was so young looking. A lot closer to his Ghost than the one he was traveling with, but still. Maybe only Soap’s age. The scars on his face were there. Freshly healing still.

Ghost had clearly been expecting this. He stared at the scene, eyes flickering over them before his lip twitched. The laughter started and Soap flinched. It sounded so harsh. Cold and distant and choking like it was being ripped out of him.

He stepped closer to him and then started to look around, searching for something.

Soap felt his breath catch when he saw the tiny feet under the blanket.

Ghost started laughing harder, hands going to the gun on his belt. Even though he knew Ghost lived, knew because how else could be here, he still panicked watching him put that gun to his mouth. Watching him take the safety off. He felt Simon grip onto him, hiding his face in his shoulder.

Ghost dropped the gun and threw up in a trash can, body shaking. He trembled and Soap wanted to break this memory too. Wanted to pull away and comfort him, but Simon gripped him hard, not letting him.

“I’ve never been able to cry easily.” Simon explained. “My dad... I don’t know. My initial psych eval said it was psychological block. Apparently, its common for people to laugh instead.”

Soap nodded and looked around. “No door... Sorry, really thought that one would work.”

Simon sighed. “It’s not usually this well hidden. I’m getting tired.”

Soap frowned. That wasn’t good. “Okay. How about you wait in the living room and I’ll come get you when I find it?”

Simon nodded and let Soap push him onto the couch. His lithe frame folding up and shivering. Soap put a few blankets on him and tucked him in.

He was supposed to have more time, but if Ghost was slipping, he’d need to hurry up.

Soap went through the remaining doors quickly not sparing them much time.

Ghost beneath the bleachers with the guy from the party, lips locked together.

Ghost putting a bullet through someone’s skull while sniping, excitement clear in his eyes. Probably his first kill if this was considered significant.

Ghost and him. He did pause at this one.

They had stopped at their doors and looked at each other. Soap had waited, wanting nothing more than to be invited in. Ghost looked at him and Soap glowed. It was weird, seeing how Ghost saw him. He looked perfect. Without flaw.

He knew for a fact that night he had been dirty and sweaty, hair messed up. But you wouldn’t know any of that from this memory. Soap looked perfect still.

On instinct, he checked above Ghost’s head.

“You don’t deserve him.”

Oh, Simon. Soap watched him turn away and go inside, locking the door. Ghost started undressing and Soap noticed there were some injuries that definitely had not been reported. He watched Ghost bandage himself and then a flush started to build across his cheeks.

Soap wished he still had Simon here to explain why this is considered important but the words above Ghost’s head appeared first.

“Maybe I could try.”

Try to deserve him? No. That didn’t seem right. Most of the words were very self depreciative, he doubted it meant that.

He stepped back from the memory.

Last door. The metal one at the end of the hallway. Maybe he should get...

No. He’d be fine. Simon could continue to relax. If the door wasn’t there, they’d need to restrategize anyway.

He leaned his head against the door, hearing a suffocating nothingness.

Fun.

Soap took a deep breath. No time to be a bitch, Johnny.

He opened it and walked in, surprised to find how bright it was.

They were in a medical facility. A pretty nice one from the looks of it.

A surgery gone wrong? He had heard of people on anesthetic not losing consciousness but being paralyzed. Maybe Ghost had gone through something similar.

That thought was dashed when they dragged him in. Simon was fighting hard, face unscarred for the most part. He fought as hard as he could but there was two of them and he clearly had been beaten, blood running down his face from his nose.

They all spoke Spanish, but it was garbled. They tied Simon down, locking his hands and feet down so he couldn’t move.

He glared at them, tensing up. “I’ll fucking kill you.”

“Sure you will, perro.” One of them cooed, like he was a child who said something funny.

They grabbed a scalpel, but they hadn’t given him anything. He frowned, not understanding what they were doing.

The scalpel went straight through his skin, cutting down the middle from his sternum to his belly button. Ghost didn’t scream. Just sat there, looking elsewhere.

Soap watched them, bile rising in his throat. They flayed him until Soap could see straight to his ribs. Could see a few of his organs if he dared to look hard enough. Could see Ghost’s heart beating and then watched as they grabbed needles.

He focused on Ghost’s face instead of whatever they were about to do. Watched as he bit straight through his lip, blood pouring down his chin.

The memory didn’t end so much as went fuzzy. Everything got softer around the edges and then it sharpened again suddenly. Ghost tied with his hands behind his back in a different place, a woman in his lap. She held his face and made kissing noise but he tried to turn away, nose wrinkling. Both of them were undressed, but Soap didn’t want to look down. His eyes looked around panicked and Soap noticed a man with skull makeup painted on, watching with this sick grin on his face.

Ghost’s pupils were huge, bottles of opiates scattered and shattered on the floor.

And right behind him, red door, black handle.

Soap fled. He went straight to Simon, dragging him up.

“Come on. We’re going to have to do this fast okay? I don’t want you to look.” He held Simon’s face. “When we get out of here, we’re going to have a bourbon and I’m going to do this again okay?”

“Do wh-” Soap connected their lips briefly.

“When you have stubble and look like my Simon, I’ll give you a better one, yeah?” He knew he sounded frantic, but he needed this to be over. Needed to have Ghost safe in a med bay where he belonged.

Simon blushed and right above his head. “Starstruck”

That was a much better word.

“Okay. Let’s go.” Simon held on to him. Soap felt him tense as they neared him, but he didn’t falter. His hands dug into Soap, but even if he bruised him, he wouldn’t have cared. As long as he stayed right next to him, Soap could’ve ignored anything.

He looked up at Simon. “Why did this memory go fuzzy?”

“I dissociated. I did that a lot during this time.”

“You’re good at it. Learn that during your first tour?”

“Home.” Simon smiled at him, leaning down so they were face to face.

“Noticed you had a thing for football players. Did you know I played?”

“Course you did.”

“Did you play any sports?”

“Nah. I was in a band for a while.”

“What?? And none of those memories were considered significant to you?”

“Nope.” Simon smiled teasingly. “I would prefer to forget highschool happened honestly. And this. Like to focus on my time in the military.”

“Your time with me, ya mean?” Soap meant it as a joke, relieved that everything was going fuzzy and they would move to when Ghost woke up and the door.

“Maybe that’s part of it.” Simon admitted softly.

Soap yanked him hard and shoved him through that dumb door before he could even glance at the memory. They tumbled through the inky blackness and Soap felt him be ripped from it as he spiraled. Darkness was all consuming. All powerful.

And then he was back in bed. He shot up and the doctors quickly grabbed him.

“You’re good, sir.”

“Ghost?”

“Stabilized and probably waking up right now. Any di-” Soap got up and cut him off.

“Bye then.”

“Sir, we need to examine you t-”

“Nope. I’m good. I’m fine.” Soap walked right past him, going to Ghost instead.

Ghost was indeed awake and very angry. “If one more of you motherfuckers jabs me with a goddamn needle.”

“It’s an IV.”

“Get fucked.” Ghost hissed.

Soap relaxed. “LT.”

“Johnny.” Ghost turned towards him and the nurse stuck him.

Soap laughed. “Relax. They’re just making sure you’re okay.” He would never admit that he skipped out on his own examination.

Ghost huffed, back to his normal self. Mask on, everything tucked away. He reluctantly let them finish.

Soap grabbed one of the cookies he was offered, knowing that Ghost would not eat it while here since that would require lifting the mask.

Ghost glanced at him briefly before looking away. Soap moved a bit closer.

“You remember what I promised, right?”

Ghost stiffened. Soap wondered if he was blushing under there.

“A drink.”

“And a kiss remember?”

Ghost hummed. “I’ll be holding you to it.”

#Johnny Soap Mactavish #Simon Ghost Riley #Soap Cod #Ghost COD #Soapghost #Ghostsoap #Soap x Ghost #Ghost x Soap #Macriley #Call of Duty #Call Of Duty Modern Warfare 2

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