#part 14 | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

zepskies · 5 months

Text

Smoke Eater - Part 14

Pairing: Firefighter!Dean Winchester x F. Reader

Summary: Dean Winchester is the cocky, but well-respected Lieutenant at Firehouse 25. He leads by example, but he’s also known to break a few hearts. He’s starting to crave something he’s never had, though. Something stable. Something real.

That’s when he meets you, on a truly terrible day, trapped in a rickety old elevator.

AN: Welcome back! Get ready for some more detective work, a pinch of Jo drama, another fire, and the reader finally meets John Winchester...

🔥 Series Masterlist

Word Count: 7,500 Tags/Warnings: Angst, fire hazards, threats, and hurt/comfort.

Part 14: “Message in a Bottle”

A week before Christmas, John Winchester left his house for work before the sun had even risen in the sky. It was still dim when he stepped out onto his porch, which is why he didn’t see it at first.

He heard the clink when his boot kicked at something metallic.

He glanced down and found a small badge lying on the ground. He bent to pick it up, and on further inspection, it was a fire department’s badge. A replica, probably, because it had Dean’s number on it: 20579.

The badge was also splattered with blood.

Later at his office, John handed it over to his partner for his inspection.

“It’s actually paint,” John said. “Forensics looked it over. No prints, of course.”

“That’s a shame,” Cas said. His tone was mild, but his face was as grave as John’s as he considered the crimson-stained badge. They stood together in the bullpen of the 84th Precinct.

“And I got this little present a few days ago,” John admitted quietly. He grabbed a folder off his desk and showed Cas its contents: a picture of Sam leaving the courthouse while talking on his cell, climbing into his car. Someone was watching his sons.

“I already have a police detail on him,” John said, heaving a sigh. “I requested approval for Dean’s this morning.”

Cas’s frown was deepening, along with his furrowed brows. “We may need to ask for backup on this.”

John shook his head. “Rufus won’t give it to us.”

Their esteemed Lieutenant thought John was on a vendetta with a ghost, stirring up a conflict of his own making. He only approved a temporary police detail for Sam, with the condition that John stopped what he was doing, let the Fire Department handle the serial arsonist, and let this blow over.

But Rufus should’ve known better than that by now. This was personal, and John wouldn’t tolerate these yellow-bellied threats to his family.

“Azazel’s applying pressure, hitting your weak spots,” Cas said, perhaps pointing out the obvious.

“So let’s hit him back, goddamn it,” John growled. He threw down the folder back onto his desk.

“How?” Cas asked. “We still don’t know who Azazel is.”

The other man thought hard, rubbing a hand over his mouth, and feeling the overgrown stubble. He didn’t remember the last time he’d shaved.

“How’s your progress on questioning Savage & Co.?” he asked.

“Stalled. Nick Savage has lawyered up,” said Cas.

His face slackened from frustration to realization. He didn’t seem happy about his next idea, but it looked like he had one.

“Though now that I think of it, we may be able to apply some pressure of our own,” he said.

John raised a brow and crossed his arms. “How’s that?”

“Dean’s girlfriend works there, if you remember,” Cas said. “Something happened this past weekend at her company Christmas party.”

John nodded, despite his frown. He was set to meet you in a week, but it looked like they might need to question you before then. What a pleasant first meeting that was going to be.

But if you had anything on Savage, on the company, or even better, if you were willing to wear a wire, that could be the break they needed to get some headway on this case. They could squeeze Savage for any information he might have on Azazel—like his real identity.

“Tell me,” John said.

You returned to work on Monday with steel in your veins (and a taser in your purse).

You had about an hour of peace in your office, catching up on your emails and calls. Then there was a knock on your door before it pushed open without your consent.

Damn it, should’ve locked it. Your lips pursed when Nick Savage came in.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” you said firmly. Already you were opening a drawer in your desk, reaching into your purse.

“It’s my goddamn office,” Nick replied lazily. But he crossed his arms and stopped just behind the spare chair that sat in front of your desk. It gave you a good few feet of distance.

You stared back at the man with hidden satisfaction through your disdain. It seemed Dean’s threats got to him.

“Just thought I’d let you know that Josh’s been promoted to Senior Sales Manager,” Nick said. He checked his watch absently.

Your teeth clicked in irritation, but you let it pass. He was just trying to get a rise out of you, and you no longer gave a fuck about this company anyway. What you told Dean before was the truth: you were now here just to collect a paycheck, until you could find a new job.

“Good. He’s been working hard, kissing your ass,” you said with a fake smile. “Now if you don’t mind, I have a lot of work to do.”

Nick made the mistake of taking a half-step forward. Your hand subtly clenched on the weapon in your purse, but you tried your best to seem relaxed. In control of yourself. This was your office that you’d occupied for three years.

This was your space, and this man didn’t control you.

“Take one step forward, and I will quit today,” you threatened. And then you bluffed.

“I’ll call Mr. Greenway,” you said. “In fact, he offered me a job last month. Then I’ll make a few more calls, and I’ll take all of my accounts with me. I’ll kill your fucking sales team and leave Josh to continue sucking your lackluster tequila dick.”

Nick stared back at you with thinly veiled shock. You’d always been “no nonsense,” but you’d never spoken to him like that before. He smirked.

This was why he liked you. And hated you.

“All right,” Nick said. He didn’t come any closer, but he did rest his hands on the back of the chair. “How about I buy out your friend Greenway. His whole damn company. And then I’ll blacklist you with every other company that calls for a reference. Even the ones that don’t call.”

Your eyes widened incredulously. He had the gall to wink at you, boiling your blood.

“I’ll fucking sue you,” you said, hating the slight tremor in your voice.

Nick rolled his eyes. “This again? Please.”

You couldn’t help it. Your temper snapped, and you pushed away from your desk to stand up. You gripped the edge of it to steady yourself. You quirked a humorless smile.

“As it happens, I know a damn good lawyer,” you countered. “He puts murderers in jail every day. I doubt he’d struggle too much with a corporate asshole. And I’ll remind you, Dean’s father is a police officer. I’m sure he’d like nothing better than to lock you up after I report you for what you did. And I will.”

Nick scoffed at that, his eyes narrowing.

“If you take it there, I’ll have every resource at my disposal to make your life a living hell. I’ll drag this out for years. Until you’ve got nothing but your boyfriend’s charity to keep you from living in a fucking box.”

You were seething, trying to stay in control. He knew it too, and he smirked at you. He pushed away from the chair and started to leave.

But then, he tossed you a smug look over his shoulder.

“Just remember,” he said. “You could’ve just spread those legs for me.”

It took everything you had within you not to hurl a stainless steel stapler at the back of his retreating head.

“A double please, Ellen. Dry, lots of olives,” you requested.

After a ridiculously long day at work, you were now trying to let go of your frustrations at the Roadhouse, while you still had the money to drink. You rubbed through the ache in your temples.

“Long day, hun?” Ellen asked you. Her eyes were sympathetic as she made you the martini you ordered. You gave her an attempt at a smile.

“Long life,” you muttered.

“Hmm. Asshole boss?” she surmised.

You met her gaze with a note of suspicion. “Did Dean tell you…”

You knew he’d told his brother about what happened at the Christmas party. And you had a feeling he’d told Cas as well, to try and see what you could do from a law enforcement standpoint. The first step was filing a report. Now you knew, however, that you couldn’t. Not if you wanted your life to remain in one piece.

“Nothing, hun,” Ellen shook her head. “You’ve just got that look. I reckon every woman in the world has worn that face. Usually because of a man.”

You sighed and chuckled at the same time. It loosened some of the tightness in your shoulders.

“Yeah, well. This one’s a rat bastard in human clothing,” you replied.

“Ooh, sounds like my old biology professor,” Jo chimed in. She was drying out some newly clean glasses behind the counter along with Ellen. “He had a reputation for scoping out freshman girls.”

You made a gagging sound as you reached for the delectable martini glass Ellen slid your way.

“Men are disgusting,” you said. Jo snorted.

“99.8% of them, yeah,” she said. But her gaze drew towards the door when Dean Winchester came in. And she added, “A few of ‘em are all right.”

Was it just you, or was there a softer look in her blue eyes when she noticed Dean?

You were soon distracted though, giving your boyfriend a smile to try and cover up how exhausted you were, in every sense of the word. He greeted you with a warm hand along your lower back. He dropped a kiss to your forehead.

“Waiting long?” he asked.

“No, just a few minutes,” you shook your head. You laid a hand on his thigh when he took a seat next to you at the bar. “How was your shift?”

This week he was on three 12-hour shifts instead of his usual 24-hour shifts, which meant you got more of him in the evening.

“Fine. Just a couple of accidents to clear off the road, nothing major,” he replied. He ordered a beer from Ellen and gave Jo a smile. He was surprised to see mother and daughter working civilly together under one roof, after the scene he saw last week.

“How’s the studying going?” he asked Jo, once Ellen was out of earshot to serve further down the line. He turned to you and filled you in. “Jo’s gearin’ up to hit the Police Academy.”

“Oh wow, that’s great!” you remarked.

Jo glanced over at her mom, but then she smiled, looking back at you and Dean. She focused on him.

“The test is in a few weeks,” she said. “I think I’m ready, but I don’t know…”

“You’ll be fine,” Dean said, with easy conviction. “You’re stubborn enough to know it’s what you want. So I got no doubts about you.”

Jo’s smile was warm, with a hint of shy and gratefulness. You smiled at Jo encouragingly, but inside, you had a familiar unease churning inside your gut.

Dean then turned to you with expectant brows. His fingers brushed a strand of hair away from your cheek, curling it behind your ear.

“And how was your day?” he asked. His tone was quieter, laced with double meaning.

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Jo moving on to another waiting customer with a small sigh.

You met Dean’s gaze and you nodded. “It was fine.”

His brows rose a touch higher. “Very convincing. You took the taser with you, right?”

You sighed and had to smile a little. His concern warmed you, made you feel protected, even though you’d had to do that part yourself today. You soothed a hand over his chest, between the open panels of his plaid shirt.

“Yes, I did. I’m okay, baby. We’re at a standstill,” you said. And you reminded him, “I can handle myself, you know.”

Dean nodded, sighing through his nose. His hand rubbed up and down your back, whether to comfort you or himself, you didn’t know. Your fingers curled into his shirt, and you smiled up at him, just before you tugged him down for a kiss.

It was slow and sweet, until you became a bit more than sweet, grazing his bottom lip with your teeth. His hand came up to cup the back of your head as he accepted the warmth of your kiss.

You knew that you couldn’t tell Dean what happened this morning in your office. He’d likely go for the Halligan in his trunk and beat Nick Savage within an inch of his life.

While the idea appealed to you for several reasons, you didn’t want to be the reason Dean lost his badge, or ended up in jail.

So over a couple of drinks, you distracted him by having a healthy debate over what you two were going to have for dinner later: sushi or pizza.

You ultimately won with sushi. (Or maybe he let you win. Either way, you were getting salmon rolls tonight.)

Still, you had that uneasy feeling when you and Dean left the bar. You wondered how the hell it had taken you this long to notice the starry look of longing in Jo’s eyes.

You fell into step with Dean as you two headed for the sushi restaurant down the street. It was already dark out, but even on a Tuesday night, the streets and sidewalks of downtown were busy.

“Can I ask you something…potentially uncomfy?” you said.

Dean’s head turned to you, with a raised brow.

“Uncomfy?”

You let out a breath, and you could see it on the December chill in the air. Your hands were tucked into your pockets, and so were Dean’s in his.

“Did you and Jo ever have a thing?” you asked.

Dean blinked, but then his lips pressed together. “What makes you say that?”

You sent him a suspicious look. You’ve known him long enough to know when he’s hedging.

“Just please, answer the question,” you said.

He blew out a breath. After a moment, he nodded.

“Yeah, for a few weeks,” he admitted.

You sighed. That sure explained a hell of a lot. And really, with his track record, you couldn’t be surprised.

“You dated her, or you hooked up with her?” you clarified. Dean shot you a look.

“Dated,” he said, rubbing a hand over his mouth.

Your brows furrowed. “When?”

He’d told you that he’d been in one relationship before, briefly…

“About a few months before I met you,” he said at last. But he saw the incredulous, almost upset look on your face. “Obviously it didn’t work out.”

“You couldn’t have told me that earlier?” you asked. Your hands slipped out of your pockets to gesture at him. “How did it end?”

The man sighed, looking up at the sky.

“Come on, Dean,” you prodded.

“All right,” he placated with a hand. “It didn’t end great, put it that way.”

You couldn’t help a frustrated huff. You crossed your arms and kept walking beside him down the street, albeit in silence.

Dean glanced at you in slight exasperation. He was with you now. Why did it matter to you so much?

“She still has feelings for you,” you said, though you still weren’t looking at him.

“How do you figure?” he asked. But if he was honest, even he knew the truth.

“Because I could see her eyeing you like a honey glazed ham,” you snipped. At that, he let out an incredulous chuckle.

“Are you jealous?” he teased.

You stopped walking and looked up at him, frowning. “Do you want me to be?”

Dean stopped as well. He sobered, realizing you weren’t in the mood for jokes. You’d been through a lot recently, and he knew then that you didn’t need this kind of stress on top of everything else. He drew closer and gently grasped your arms.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said. Though he thought to himself, I’ll talk to Jo if I have to.

You sighed in frustration, but he soothed his hands up and down your arms. His touch plied you, along with his smile.

“Hey,” Dean said, dipping his chin so he could catch your eyes. “You should know how I feel about you by now.”

You sighed and nodded in agreement. He wasn’t satisfied.

“Okay,” he said, squeezing your arms and earning your eyes on him. It took him a moment, letting out a breath, but he was honest.

“I love you," he reminded. "And if that damn elevator hadn’t broke down on you, I’d still be missing something.”

…Damn it, you thought, even as a blushing smile grew across your face. Dean Winchester was too smooth for his own good.

But you also saw the sincerity in his eyes. You couldn’t help but be warmed by his words, down to your toes.

“There she is. All right,” he said with a grin. He nodded in satisfaction and gathered you into his arms. “My soft girl again.”

Your smile deepened, but you still pinched his side, making him flinch and laugh. You held him back and looked up at his handsome face. He still looked amused and his eyes were warm. You leaned up on your toes for a kiss that lingered on wind-chilled lips.

“I love you,” you whispered back, against his lips.

His smile against yours was your answer.

Two hours and two salmon rolls later, Dean drove you home. You had taken an Uber to the Roadhouse, which reminded him that he needed to make another trip to Singer Salvage.

He’d been scoping out potential cars to fix up for you. He’d even recruited Bobby’s help to find something good, something with strong bones. Dean could do the rest.

Even after he watched you get inside your house safely, he let out a subtle breath before he peeled away. He wished you were coming home with him tonight. More often, he was feeling your absence when you weren’t in his bed. But it also reassured him, that he knew you were safe with him and Sam at their apartment.

He later found his brother eating leftover chicken parmesan at the kitchen counter.

“Why’re you eating standing up?” Dean asked, tossing his keys onto the counter. He reached into the fridge for a beer. “You look like Big Bird if he wore a suit.”

Sam sent him a dry look. “I don’t know. Force of habit.”

He barely had time in his day for an uninterrupted coffee, let alone a meal. When Dean wasn’t here, Sam fell back onto his work habits. He took his plate and actually went to the table.

“You eat already?” he asked. Dean nodded and said he’d eaten with you.

“Oh yeah? How’s she doing?” Sam asked.

Dean sighed and sank down heavily onto the chair opposite his brother. He rubbed at his forehead.

“She’s okay, considering,” he replied. But he knew you hadn’t told him the whole story about how your day went at work. Whether you were trying to spare him, or protect him, or yourself, it still drove him up the wall. Knowing Nick Savage was still your boss, and he was there, an ever-present threat just a few floors above you in that building…

It made Dean’s skin crawl. It had his teeth grinding and coiled his spine tight with repressed rage. And worry.

He met his brother’s eyes. Sam had been watching him, hiding his wariness.

“What can we do about him?” Dean asked. He knew he didn’t have to explain who he was talking about.

Sam started to shake his head, but Dean wouldn’t have it.

“I mean it, Sam. Because I almost…” His hand and forearm clenched and unclenched on the table. He could almost feel the way his arm had pressed into Nick’s throat, slowly but surely crushing his trachea. Just a couple of minutes more, and Dean could’ve done it. In that moment, he saw it so clearly.

It was the first time he’d ever wanted to take a man’s life.

“I know,” Sam said. His brows furrowed in sympathy. “But you did the right thing.”

Dean’s lips pursed as his hand once again fisted on the table.

“If I hadn’t been there,” he said. “If I had been just a few minutes off…”

These were the what ifs that kept plaguing his mind, ever since the party. Sometimes, it added to the catalogue of waking nightmares that wouldn’t let him sleep.

“And now she’s gotta go back there, every day, where that animal is just waiting for an opportunity,” Dean gritted out. Then his fist dropped more heavily onto the table, rattling Sam’s silverware.

Sam held the table steady and looked at his brother, calm but firm.

“You can’t touch Savage,” he said. “Don’t even go near him. Whatever you do, he’ll use it against you, and potentially against her. Unfortunately, she’s got the best plan right now.”

Dean looked up at him with angry eyes.

“Wait him out,” Sam said, “until he makes a mistake he can’t easily cover up. In the meantime, she’ll find a new job and get the hell out of there.”

Dean forced a sharp breath through his nose. He leaned back in his chair and tapped his fist more calmly on the table.

“I don’t have to like it,” he said.

Sam nodded in agreement. “No, you don’t.”

The fire was wild. It was eating up the four-story apartment building in a full blaze. The Truck 79 team was geared up outside of it, with Chief Singer already calling out instructions along with Dean.

Benny and the Rescue Squad were already on the roof, rappelling down to get the ones trapped on the top floors out through the windows. Dean was on the ground. He had Gordon, Jack, and a few others behind him. Meg and Chuck were on standby, waiting for the firefighters to pull out any residents still trapped inside.

Dean had to wonder if he was walking into another arson, like the Richardson fire. Against his will, he thought of that day. He thought about everything his father had told him about that arson, about Azazel and his mom’s death. He thought about you, working for a man who was potentially tied to Azazel.

“Winchester,” Gordon tapped him on the arm. “You good?”

Dean glanced over at him, then nodded.

“Yeah. Let’s rock and roll.”

When Dean was at work, he couldn’t let the outside world into his mind. All he could let himself focus on was the scene ahead after he put his mask on.

Inside the first floor of the building was like entering a living furnace. It was hot as shit, and layers of smoke choked the room. The mask was the only reason Dean could see, let alone breathe.

He turned to Jack. “All right, take it room by room. Stay close. We don’t got a lot of time.”

Jack nodded his agreement, and Dean split his team. A few of the others took the first floor on his orders. Dean, Gordon, and Jack would take the old stairs to clear the second floor.

Fuck. This whole place is just wood and plaster, Dean thought, shaking his head. These old buildings were all the same. Easy to build, easy to knock down. And usually they weren’t up to code, often thanks to cheap property owners.

He got apartment 201 open with his Halligan. The shoebox studio was smokey as all hell, but it was clear of any tenants. Gordon moved on ahead quickly, but Dean’s brows furrowed as he listened to the unsteady creaking of the floorboards. He moved more carefully forward.

Until he felt the warmth under his boots, saw the orange glow underneath a thin patch of flooring.

“Walker, wait!” Dean called, at the same time he held Jack back.

He reached out, just as the wood floor splintered and broke underneath Gordon. His eyes flashed wide just before he fell.

Dean dove for him. His Halligan clattered away, but he managed to grab onto the man’s sleeve before he disappeared. Gordon grabbed onto Dean’s arm and nearly pulled him down too. Luckily, he managed to grab onto the splintered edge with his other glove-covered hand. He gritted his teeth at the strain of the other man hanging off his shoulder, but he didn’t dare let go.

Jack grabbed Dean’s belt to keep him from sliding further down. It let him grab onto Gordon with both hands. The men panted for breath; Dean had a better vantage point to see that the middle of the ground floor below was engulfed in flames. The glow of it flared in the corner of Gordon’s eyes. He could feel the heat making both of them sweat.

The wood flooring under Dean creaked ominously, but before anyone could move, it broke further. He almost lost his grip on Gordon as his torso hung over the edge. He managed to get a new stronghold under the other man’s arm, and Jack did his best to keep Dean from falling by pinning his legs down. Jack was strong, but he was still a smaller man than Dean.

“Jack, call for backup!” Dean gritted out. Jack nodded behind him and radioed in for help.

Gordon stared up at Dean with wide, but resigned eyes. “The floor’s gonna cave before you can pull me up.”

Dean stared down at him, even as lines of sweat poured down his forehead from within his mask. They both knew that if that happened, Dean would be pulled along for the ride down, maybe even Jack too. Dean gave a sharp shake of his head.

“Just hold on. Backup’s comin’,” he said. All his strength was going into keeping a firm grip on the man’s arm and jacket. He called to Jack over his shoulder. “Can you get next to me and grab him?”

To his credit, Jack tried. But the jagged edges of the floor around Dean were unsteady, creaking and groaning under Jack’s added weight, a bit too much.

“Stop, stop!” Dean shouted, halting Jack’s movements.

Gordon licked his dry lips and blinked sweat out of his eyes. “This might be the part where you let go, Winchester.”

Dean took exactly a beat to process his shock. Then he glared down at the man.

“Shut the hell up, Walker. You don’t let go, you hear me?” he barked. “Jack, grab the back of my jacket and my belt.”

Jack followed the order, and a combination of him pulling Dean up and Dean straining every muscle he had to heft up Gordon slowly, painfully, brought them back up and over the ledge.

Jack had an easier time then of helping Dean pull Gordon the rest of the way out of the hole.

And the rest of their Truck crew came to help them onto their feet, before the fire consumed the rest of the second floor.

Once Dean was out of the building, he took off his mask and breathed in cooler air on his face. He made a beeline for the fire truck. In the back was a cooler, and grabbed a bottle of water to dump over his overheated head and face while he caught his breath. Gordon and Jack were following suit, and the men stared and one another. All of their faces said the same thing.

We made it. We’re alive. That was almost fucked.

Gordon’s gaze met Dean’s, sobering further. For a moment, he looked like he was searching for words.

“How’s your shoulder?” he asked eventually.

Dean nodded, rotating his right arm. He was going to feel that bitch tomorrow.

“Fine,” he said. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Gordon nodded. Another hesitation, followed by an honest gaze. “Thanks, Lieutenant.”

Dean’s face broke into a smile, wry but also genuine. “Yeah, thank me by layin’ off the burgers.”

He swatted the other man’s stomach and went for three more waters. He handed two of them to Jack and Gordon. One was smiling, while the other just smirked and shook his head.

“You callin’ me hefty?” Gordon remarked. “I’m averaging 6% body fat, man.”

Dean scoffed. “Yeah, right. What’re you, the Rock? That’s why you almost sunk.”

He dropped his fist into the air and made an exploding sound. Jack was wide-eyed, but Gordon just chuckled. They started making their way to the front of the truck to start packing up their gear. The Truck and Rescue teams had done what they could, and all the residents that made it out of the building were being seen to by the paramedics.

“I’d rather be weighed down by muscle than all them Little Debbie’s you’ve been putting away at the station,” Gordon shot back. “Cheap cake is not your friend.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “All right, that’s just uncalled for.”

“Dean,” Chief Singer called, beckoning him over with a hand. His free hand wore a glove as he held something steaming.

Dean nodded at his men and joined Bobby outside his department-issued SUV. Dean’s gaze focused on the bottle-shaped object in Bobby’s hand. There was a small digital box attached to the front, with wires wrapped around. The entire device was now blackened, but the smell of chemicals was unmistakable.

“Molotov cocktail?” Dean quipped, but his face was as grave as Bobby’s. The Chief nodded.

“Lafitte pulled this out of the fourth floor,” he said. “Looks like the same kind of incendiary device Arson found at the Richardson fire.”

That night, you made dinner for Dean at your house. He was forced to explain what happened at the apartment building, and why he had his arm pinned to his side like a chicken wing. You made him sit down and relax, all while you tried to hide your worry and relief that he was mostly all right.

Later in the living room, you sat on your knees beside him on the couch and lifted the bag of ice from his shoulder. You peered at it in concern, gently rubbing your hand over the joint and surrounding muscle. Dean sighed through his nose as your gentle touch was both soothing and painful.

“Are you sure you should do another shift tomorrow?” you asked, replacing the ice. He shot you a glance.

“I’m fine,” he said.

“Right,” you said dryly. “That’s why you can barely move this arm.”

Dean rolled his eyes and made his point by raising his right arm, slowly, but easily back down.

“I’ll be up and running by tomorrow. Just need a good night’s sleep.”

“Dean, are you sure? You seem to be in a lot of pain,” you asked.

He tried to hold in his annoyance. “I think I’d know if I’m fine.”

“You forget, I know all too well what downplaying looks like,” you countered, giving him a chiding look. Dean didn’t appreciate it. He didn’t need you to mother him.

“This is my job, all right,” he said.

You gave him a steady look. Your hand moved up his shoulder to rest along the back of his neck. Your fingers slipped into his hair.

“I know that. But I’m allowed to worry,” you said. Your brows furrowed. “Please don’t get upset at me for that.”

Dean let out a breath. He relaxed against the couch and met your gaze. He knew he had no right to ask you not to worry about him.

“Yeah, okay,” he said.

To you, he still seemed a bit annoyed. You nodded and continued to gently sift your fingers through his hair. You had to wonder if his resentment was coming from a different place.

“Are you still mad at me for going back to work?” you tested.

Dean breathed out deeper this time, but he didn’t answer.

Bingo, you thought with a frown.

“Dean—”

“All I want is for you to be safe,” he said. His voice was harder as his face tightened up. His hand gestured in frustration. “This whole thing…that fucking douchebag…it’s killing me. Fucking killing me. And you know that.”

Your eyes softened, and you unconsciously bit your lip.

“Ditto,” you tried to joke. It landed flat, because your boyfriend was deadly serious.

He looked away from you with pursed lips and a frustrated shake of his head. You sidled closer to him and tried to soothe, with a hand on his chest.

“Look, I’m trying to find a new job, but it takes time,” you said.

“You could quit. You could quit right now,” Dean replied hotly.

You sighed; you couldn’t believe you had to remind him about this. “I can’t, Dean. I have bills to pay, just like you do. You think I like this situation any more than you? I’m the one who’s had to deal with this for months!”

“I know that!” Dean snapped back. “Or should I say, now I do.”

He pulled away from your touch and pushed off the couch, onto his feet. You looked up with your mouth agape as he left the room. You got up and followed after him.

“You’re leaving?” you asked in shock. You watched him grab his keys and his wallet from the kitchen counter.

“I’ve got a long shift tomorrow and I gotta sleep,” Dean said, rather gruffly.

You followed him all the way to the door, where you grabbed onto his wrist. He stopped in the doorway, glancing back at you over his shoulder.

“Dean, please,” you implored. “Don’t go like this.”

After a beat, he seemed to soften. Just enough to lean over and press a brief kiss to the side of your head.

“I gotta go.”

He left you in the doorway with tears swimming in your eyes, and he pretended not to notice them.

When Dean woke up the next morning, his shoulder still ached, and he still felt guilty. He rubbed the offending join and tried to slowly roll the stiffness out of his arm. Fuck.

He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes next. They blearily took in the digital numbers on his alarm clock: 5:00 a.m.

He slid out of bed and got ready for work. He definitely wanted to check in with Arson about the device that likely started that fire, and he knew his dad would need to be brought in on it. It would give Dean a reason to press John for an update on his investigation.

By 6:00, he was finishing his coffee, about ready to head over to the station. He could hear the pipes running, meaning Sam was in the shower.

Dean was startled only slightly by his phone vibrating in his pocket. His brows furrowed, but he fished it out and found your name crossing the screen, along with a smiling picture of you. He sighed.

Part of him hesitated. If you were calling just to try and convince him to call out of work, he was going to get worked up again. And he’d rather not have anything disturb his first cup of coffee of the day.

Still, he answered. “Hey.”

“Dean, did you come into the house last night?” you asked.

He didn’t like the wary, almost scared tone of your voice.

“No.” His brows furrowed. “Why?”

“Look at the text I just sent you.”

He put you on speaker so he could check his messages. Sure enough, he found a picture from you. It was of a glass bottle-shaped object on your nightstand. There was a black box attached, but its digital screen was blank. Dean’s breath caught in his lungs as his eyes widened. His heart dropped into his stomach.

“Dean, what is this thing?” you asked. Your voice was shakier, more worried. “It looks like a bomb. And it smells awful, like chemicals.”

“Don’t touch it,” he said quickly. “Get out of the house…better yet, wait for me at your neighbor’s place. I’m coming over right now.”

And I’m calling Dad.

Dean tried his best to calm you while the police and the Arson Department swept your entire house for devices, fingerprints, and any other evidence on who broke in.

You had a hand over your mouth by the front door as you watched them turn over cushions, move tables and shelves, ruck through cabinets. Your entire life turned inside out.

Dean’s hand rubbed up and down your back. You eventually had to look away and sigh. You pressed closer to his side, and he wrapped his good arm around your shoulders.

“It’s gonna be okay,” he said quietly, and kissed the top of your head. Inside, he was furious. Mostly at himself.

If anything had happened to you last night, after he left…he would’ve never forgiven himself.

So it was a welcome distraction when John and Cas’s police car finally pulled into the driveway. Dean led you outside, away from the chaos happening in your house.

“Hey, Dad,” he said, with a nod at Cas. Both men nodded back.

“Son,” John greeted, His brown eyes turned to you next. He offered you a hand. “Good to finally meet you, despite the circumstances.”

You blinked up at him and curled a stray strand of hair behind your ear, a bit nervously.

“Oh, it’s…it’s great to meet you, Mr. Winchester,” you said, sticking out your hand and shaking his.

A smile flickered across Dean’s lips. He realized then that this was the first time you were meeting his father. You were adorably nervous.

A reserved smile tugged at his father’s lips as well.

“John’s just fine.”

You smiled back, with a bit of a blush tinging your cheeks.

“Now, can you tell me what happened here?” John asked you, not unkindly.

Dean’s good humor faded away as he explained about the device left on your nightstand. He filled them in about the fire he’d responded to yesterday as well.

“What the hell is happening, Dad?” he demanded to know.

John let out a breath and nodded, swiping a hand through his dark hair.

“It’s another one of Azazel’s signatures,” he said, lowering his voice so only the four of them could hear. “It’s a message.”

“To who?” Dean asked.

“To me,” John said. “Warning me to back off the case…there’ve been other threats. I’ve finally got a police detail on Sam, and I just got approval for you. I’ll add her to the list.”

John glanced at you. Your eyes widened in confusion as you tried to hold in your fear.

“Who the hell is Azazel?” You turned to Dean. “Is this…does this have something to do with your mom’s killer?”

John’s brows shot up at his son. “You told her?”

“You’re over here talking about him too,” Dean retorted. He gathered you closer and met his father with steely eyes, to mask how his gut was churning with worry.

“You need to get this guy,” Dean said, almost through gritted teeth. “Get him now.”

John agreed with a nod.

Once again, you covered a trembling hand over your mouth. Dean squeezed your side a bit to earn your attention.

“I want you to come stay with me,” he said. His tone was boding no argument, not that you would. You nodded and fairly melted against him. Your head rested against his chest.

“Dean, this is insane,” you whispered.

He nodded and pressed a kiss to your forehead. “I know. I’m sorry…I’m so fucking sorry about this.”

You looked up at him, your brows furrowing. “It’s not your fault.”

Dean met your gaze, but he couldn’t quite believe you. He was the one who kept pushing his dad for answers, to let him in on this. This was his family’s bullshit, not yours. You didn’t deserve to get dragged into it too.

The spell between you two was broken by Cas, awkwardly clearing his throat.

“We do need to ask you some questions,” he said. “About Nick Savage.”

You frowned. You peeled yourself away from Dean enough to face the detectives.

“What does he have to do with this?” you asked.

“His company is linked to a money laundering scheme, which ultimately leads back to Azazel,” Cas explained. “But we’re having trouble getting through his wall of lawyers.”

You scoffed. “Not surprising.”

However, it did worry you that Nick was possibly doing business with a criminal. Not that that should surprise you either.

“What do you want to know?” you asked.

“Well, first of all, would you be willing to file a police report,” Cas said, more gently, “regarding your assault at his home.”

Your eyes widened. Your mouth fell open slightly before you looked over at Dean. His face tightened, along with his hand on the curve of your waist.

“Why do you need me to do that?” you asked Cas.

“It’ll give us the leverage we need to dig deeper into his business,” John said. “Knock loose any shady dealings. We could get him to cough up what he knows about Azazel.”

You wanted to help, but at the same time, you were reluctant to mire yourself deeper in this. Dean saw your reservations, and he could guess why.

“Won’t that just paint a bigger target on her back?” he asked.

��We’re gonna protect her,” John promised. His eyes went from Dean, back to you. “But we need your help. This could be the break we need to get to Azazel. To find out who this bastard is.”

John could see your indecision. “All you need to do is fill out the report. Maybe get up in court to testify.”

You tightened up at that. “Testify?”

“If it gets that far,” John nodded.

“I don’t think so,” you shook your head. “That man can make my life hell without a serial killer’s help.”

You looked to Dean for support.

In the beginning, he had all but begged you to do what his father and Cas were asking. But now, this was just too much. He pressed you more securely to his side.

“Dean?” his father prodded.

“You heard her,” Dean said. “It’s her choice.”

You sighed and held onto the back of his shirt gratefully. The detectives shared a look, with John’s brows furrowing. He regarded you with a gruff, slightly strained look.

“Listen, don’t you want Savage in a cold hard cell?” he asked. “You could put him there.”

“Dad, she said no. Lay off,” Dean’s tone sharpened. Unfortunately, he knew how stubborn the man could be.

“Dean, I’m trying to nail this guy, but I’m missing pieces,” John said. “Right now, I can’t do it without her.”

“Well, figure it out,” Dean snapped.

John frowned in near disbelief. "Excuse me?"

“Look, I know where your priorities are, but mine is making sure she’s safe," said Dean. "If you can’t handle that, then we’ve got a problem!”

The strength of his retort took everyone by surprise, but no one more so than John. He hid it well behind a deepening frown.

He glanced between you and his son. You were looking up at Dean with unshed tears in your red-rimmed eyes, grateful, and holding on tight to his shirt. He still held you to him. His entire frame was tight and angry.

And John knew that he would react the same way, if he were Dean. He also knew then that he was pushing too hard.

So he sighed, and pulled out a card from his wallet. He handed it to you.

“I’m sure you’ve got Cas’s number already, but here’s mine,” said John. “Call me if you change your mind.”

“I’m sorry for invading,” you told Sam that night. He was helping you and Dean bring in your suitcases. You were pretty much moving into their apartment, indefinitely.

“You’re not,” Sam said, shaking his head. “We’re happy to have you here.”

You gave him a tired, thankful smile. “I appreciate that, thanks.”

“We’ll get to have an in-house chef,” Dean chimed in, earning more amused look from you.

“Need I remind you that I’m not an actual chef?” you said. You set down your smaller suitcase, full of shoes and toiletries, to grasp the front of his shirt. You leaned up on your toes and met him with a kiss. It was sweet, but it was also tender. His arms came around your lower back and pulled you flush against him.

He parted from you gently, afterwards pressing his forehead against yours. He let out a brief sigh through his nose.

“I’m sorry, about how I left last night,” he said.

You shook your head, despite the tears that wanted to burn in your eyes. You wanted to tell him, It’s fine. I’m fine.

But you couldn’t lie to him.

“You came back when I needed you,” you said instead. “Thanks for letting me stay here.”

You felt his fingers tangle in your hair, his hand resting along the back of your neck. It was familiar, and soothing.

“This isn’t exactly how I wanted you to move in,” he admitted. You chuckled wryly.

“Really,” he said. “…I was thinking of asking you. But not ‘til, you know, down the line.”

You softened at that. You raised up on your toes and pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth. Then you circled your arms around his neck and hugged him close. He held you back just as tightly.

“Thank you for always being there for me,” you said. He couldn’t see your smile, but somehow, he knew it was there. But he could also hear you sniffle, and feel your body tremble with tears.

“You’re safe here,” Dean said softer into your ear. “Nothing’s getting to you, all right?”

You nodded, pressing your face into his neck. He continued to say and do whatever he felt he had to in order to reassure you that night, and make you feel safe.

All the while, he was trying to reassure himself.

AN: *burrr* That tension, huh? What did you think of her finally finding out about Jo's lingering feelings, plus a bit of Dean's resentment, him and Gordon coming to an understanding, and the reader meeting John for the first time! 😮‍💨😮‍💨

Good news though. Next time, we'll take a huge break from all this drama and have a nice fluffy Christmas special. (Plus a healthy dose of spice. ❤️‍🔥)

Next Time:

You hadn’t undressed yet from your jeans and sweater, but you crawled across the bed to come up behind him and drop a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“How’s your slugging arm?” you asked.

Dean quirked a smile at you over his shoulder. “Just fine.”

“Dean,” you said. Your tone was gentle, but warning. No downplaying.

You pressed your lips against the side of his head and soothed your hand along his shoulder and down his arm. Still, he was resistant.

“I’m fine, sweetheart,” he said.

You hummed. “Okay. I guess you don’t need a massage then.”

He paused. His head tilted just so, once again turning to you over his shoulder. You spied the edge of his piqued interest, his grin.

“Well, if you’re offering…”

Keep Reading: PART 15

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Series Tag List (Part 1):

@hobby27 @kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007 @wincastifer @iamsapphine @simpforbuckyb

@vanillawhiskeyflavoredkisses @roseblue373 @this-is-me19 @emily-winchester @spnexploration @deans-spinster-witch @deans-baby-momma @iprobablyshipit91

@melancholictearz @nic-kolas @katherineann814 @sleepyqueerenergy @wayward-lost-and-never-found @thewritersaddictions @just-levyy @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @deanwanddamons @antisocialcorrupt @lacilou @adoringanakin @theonlymaninthesky @teehxk @midnightmadwoman @brianochka @branj19

@agalliasi @venicesem @chriszgirl92 @lyarr24 @ladysparkles78 @solariklees @xsophianicolex @deansbbyx @candy-coated-misery0731 @curlycarley @sarahgracej @bagpussjocken @ultrahviolentart @chernayawidow @beskarfilms @mimaria420

366 notes · View notes

aintinacage · 1 month

Text

endless peter parker - part 14

197 notes · View notes

angelynmoon · 8 months

Text

More Eldritch Steve

Holly does not get scared easily she knows that her Stevie, her monster will protect her from anything she is afraid of no matter what or who it is.

Holly has always known Steve was a monster, she saw him as he really is when Nancy first brought him home.

She should have been frightened, should have hid from him in fear, but Holly has seen monsters, she saw them in Will's wall, she knows that Steve isn't a bad monster, not when he crawls under her bed to growl at the ones that live there or the way he sat all night against her closet door to keep the one that lived there inside.

He's a monster but he plays dolls with her when she asks, even after Nancy broke up with him.

Nancy got upset when Holly didn't warm up as easily to Jonathan as she had Steve.

But Nancy doesn't see Steve, not really, she sees his human image, his mimicry of humanity, she can't see, or maybe won't see, the monster that Steve is.

But Holly sees it, him, sees too many teeth bared at Ted the first time Holly heard him raise his voice at her mother, she sees him in the darkness that crawls through her window to check on her late at night.

Holly can see Steve the way he really is, he's her monster, her protecter, her safety net that she knows will always be there for her when she needs him.

So, when Holly gets scared, when Ted raises his voice and her mother's rises to match, she crawls out her window, uses the tree to get down and starts off to the dark of the woods where she knows her monster hunts.

Holly knows Steve will know she's there as soon as she enters the woods, he has never once lost her while babysitting with Nancy, even when she wondered off too far from them, he knows where she is, always.

He's her monster, he'll always find her and keep her safe.

Holly yawns and lifts her hands up when Steve looks down at her, she's safe now, nothing bad would be allowed to happen to her now.

Safe and sound in Steve's hold Holly Wheeler falls asleep, unaware of how her life is about to change.

Don't ask me what happens, I don't know yet but enjoy Holly pov.

@addelyin @merricatty @lesbiabrobin @apuckishwit @0o-mushroom-o0 @starlight-archer @darkwitchoferie @just-a-tiny-void @swimmingbirdrunningrock @intergalactic-president-awesome @vampireinthesun @goodolefashionedloverboi @adhdsummer @purpleanimeoverart @space-invading-pigeon @lilaclilyroses @nohomoyesbi @plantzzsandpencilzzs @korixae @subversivecynic @flusteredcas @persnicketysquares @freddykicksasses @little-trash-ghost @cupcakesnwhiskey @cats-ate-all-of-my-pasta @planetsoda @paintsplatteredandimperfect @irregular-child @daydreamsandcrashingwaves @lifeisnotsobadonceyoustopcaring @steddieassheg0es

#eldritch monster steve #upside down creature steve #steddie #because of the rest of the story #holly wheeler #holly wheeler & steve harrington #steve harrington #from the rot #part 14

301 notes · View notes

crowely-632 · 2 months

Text

#anime #art #manga #manhwa #manga recommendation #book recommendations #recommendations #tensei shitara slime datta ken #rimuru #rimuru tempest #part 14

53 notes · View notes

locitapurplepink · 1 month

Text

Taglist : @photogirl894 , @leosardonyx18 , @commander-tech , @aintinacage , @trapezequeen , @cassie-fanfics , @zaya-mo , @genericficerblog , @laughingphoenixleader , @kanerallels , @ambulance-mom , @fulltimecatwitch and anyone else who wants to vote this one.

#star wars #star wars rebels #empire day #path of the jedi #sw rebels #star wars rebels season 1 #sw rebels season 1 #star wars polls #sw rebels round 1 #part 14

22 notes · View notes

hyunjinspark · 1 year

Text

star lost with you 🍃☕️ part 14: farewell, neverland

#star lost with you #hyunjin x reader #hyunjin imagines #angst #fluff #smut #part 14 #hyunjin fics

117 notes · View notes

ejzah · 2 months

Text

The Other Shoe, Part 14

***

One second, Deeks was counting down from 20, and the next he woke up in a recovery room with two nurses hovering over him. They asked him the typical orientation questions, informing him that the surgery went well.

“Marty, why don’t you let me get you some ice and see how you do with that?” One of the nurses offered, unhooking him from one of the many IVs connected to him.

“No, I want to see my wife,” he insisted, wincing against the rough sensation in his throat.

“And I thought she was the stubborn one,” the other nurse muttered. “As soon as I’m done here, I’ll send someone to get her,” she promised.

“I appreciate it, Lupita.”

He closed his eyes again, drifting in and out while the nurses finished up and wheeled him back to his room. Kensi was waiting for him, and jumped immediately to help situate him into a semi-upright position.

Deeks felt vaguely nauseous and completely exhausted by the time they were finished.

“Hey baby,” Kensi said, hovering with a worried expression.

“Hey, you’re the cutest nurse I’ve ever seen,” Deeks told her with a weak smile.

“We’ll leave you two lovebirds alone,” Lupita commented dryly. “He can have some ice chips but nothing and else and only when he’s upright.”

“Of course.” Kensi nodded seriously, fingers folded together tightly. Once both nurses were gone, she caressed his cheek. “You made it.”

“I did.”

“How do you feel?” she asked. She brushed his hair back from his face, the gesture soothing.

“Well, on a level of previous injuries, I’d put it somewhere between two gunshot wounds to the abdomen and unplanned dental surgery,” he replied. Even through the remnant of anesthesia and pain medication, it felt like he’d been split open and his insides rearranged. Which he supposed was pretty accurate.

“Babe.” Kensi closed her eyes, and shook her head, shoulders vibrating slightly despite her protests. When she opened her eyes again, she smiled down at him, relief in her eyes. “I’m glad you can make dark jokes about it.” Her hand settled on the back of his neck. “Your surgical team said the surgery went almost perfectly and the outcome looks really good. They’ll come down a little bit later to explain everything.”

“Sounds good.“ Maybe it was the lingering medication—likely—but after so many months of worrying and planning, he found he didn’t care to know. It seemed like he’d gotten over the biggest hurdle, and all he wanted to do was not think about the next step. “Do you wanna cuddle?”

“I love you,” Kensi said around a tearful laugh. She kissed him, careful not to bump his nasal cannula. When she pulled back, she rubbed her thumb across his bottom lip.

“Love you too. Thanks for staying and worrying about me,” he told her.

“I wouldn’t be anywhere else.”

“So about that cuddle?”

Kensi laughed again, though this time it sounded more cheerful.

“Yes, I will cuddle with you. First I want to go check in on Sam,” Kensi told him.

“That’s a good idea. Tell him thanks for me. You know, until I’m able to do it myself.” He owed Sam a hell of a lot more than his thanks.

“I will.” Leaning over him, Kensi kissed him one more time. “I love you so much.”

***

Apparently Sam had lifted his previous visitor ban, because there wasn’t any sign on his door and when she knocked, he called for her to come in.

“Oh, it’s you,” he greeted her from his bed with a slightly loopy smile. “Thought it was G coming with something stupid.”

“No, just me. I wanted to check on you. Deeks is doing well,” Kensi said, gesturing over her shoulder.

“Yeah, that’s what my nurse said.” Sam nodded. “Good.”

“How are you feeling? Are you in any pain?” she asked.

“I feel about one kidney lighter,” he replied, his chuckle letting Kensi know that he was just as high as Deeks. “I hope Deeks enjoys it. That organ’s got prime Hanna DNA in it.”

“I know he does,” Kensi assured him. “That’s actually part of why I stopped by. We wanted to say thank you again.”

“I’d do it again in a heartbeat. Well, since I only have one left, probably not again, but you get what I mean.”

“I do.” She nodded several times, feeling the sudden onslaught of tears.

“Hey, come here,” Sam said, gesturing until Kensi came close enough he could wrap an arm around her.

“Oh Sam, your incision. Be careful.”

“I’m fine.” He squeezed her tightly, only wincing a little when he released her. “Now, go be with your man.” Kensi squeezed his hand before heading for the door. “And tell him I’ll kick his ass if he even thinks of getting out that bed before his doctor says he can,” he called after her.

***

A/N: I hope you enjoyed this lighter chapter, including loops and silly Sam.

#ncis la fanfiction #densi #marty deeks #kensi blye #Sam #angst #sick fic #Deeks whump #the other shoe #part 14 #au #ejzah fanfiction

16 notes · View notes

cookiesncreamlover17 · 7 months

Text

Yandere!Damian Wayne x Reader Pt. 14

⚠️Warnings⚠️: Mention if death. Kidnapping, Threatening, and Injury From Possible Concussion

🇺🇸Word Count🇺🇸: 1,637

👾Characters👾: 8,636

Eight hours. What was suppose to take five hours at MAXIMUM took eight fucking hours. You could never get those eight hours back. Damian had probably been wondering were you were. Would if he thought you were dead? Well now you knew that wasn’t the case when he saw you again and hugged you through the entire night. Tomorrow was the last day. You had one more day till it was all over. One more day till you might be dead. Tomorrow would be day 7. The final day. You needed to know who this person was. Though, you did learn that the man who might rob you of your life was named Grayson. Dick, Grayson. And that’s exactly why he went on your list tonight. And tomorrow Cass or Steph might be your last guess.

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

Fuck. That’s the only word you could think of. One guess. That’s all you had left. That guess would determine whether you lived or died this night. You couldn’t do it. There was about a thousand kids in this school and it could be any one of them. You couldn’t escape your death bed. But maybe you didn’t have to. Maybe you needed to escape the execution. Running came to your mind, but they would never let you leave. This was the end. You knew it. Today was the day you were going to die.

Deaths main goal is to make whatever it’s out for to disappear. You weren’t ready to go. You were only fifteen for fucks sake! What about college or your family or your friends?! That was all going to go away. You weren’t ready. You. Weren’t. Ready. If you weren’t ready, you weren’t going to do it. Death wasn’t going to take you. You had a plan. Kill or get killed. It wasn’t your time to go. You needed to kill whoever this was before they killed you. And you had a few plans in mind.

It was simple. You needed to stay in your room the entire time. No one comes in, no one comes out. You had all the safe food with you. You had safe cameras. You had weapons. You had everything you needed. You would survive this night. You weren’t going to die from murder. You were going to die as an old lady in her warm bed. Today was not the day. Though, a sudden knock woke you right out of your motivational thought. As you neared your dorm door a letter stared up at you from your dark red carpet. A letter? Who would send you a letter.

You hesitantly went to go pick it up. What if it was a bomb? No, it couldn’t be. Bombs would bulge out of the envelope. Maybe this was a hand written letter. As you opened it, your face turned pale right as your began to read the first words.

Dear my beloved,

Greetings again. You didn’t really think I would just give up on you, did you? Now, now, there’s no need to panic. I’ve told you before I’m not going to harm you. When you accuse me of these things it hurts N/n. I thought you would be smarter than this. My goal is to bring you home. With me and your brothers and sisters. I’m not going to kill you. I suggest you stop hiding in your room all day and come out. You’ve got one guess. But I thought maybe I could make this more interesting. Survive. If you can successfully keep me from you all night, if you guess incorrectly on your last guess, then I’ll let you go. But if you lose….. you come home with me! I’ll see you soon Y/n.

Sincerely,

Your secret admirer

No, no, no, no, no. It wasn’t suppose to end like this. How did he know?! It wasn’t like he was watching you from cameras or something, right? Right? This couldn’t be happening, but it was happening. This wasn’t a dream, this was real life. And it was happening to you in the broad daylight. But, maybe, just maybe, this was a good thing. You just had to survive. Katniss Everdeen survived the hunger games with a bunch of savages. She used her brain. You had a brain. You could do this. You might be able to see your friends and family again. You might be able to see Damian again. Speaking of Damian, you had shut him out all day. It wasn’t good for him to be near you. Whoever was sending you these letters was clearly dangerous in some sort of way.

You picked up the letter and plucked a hair strand from your head and put it into the envelope. People would need to know that you were here. They might even have officers involved to send an investigation for you. Then, it hit you. Officers. What were officers? People. What do people do? Help. Where could you find multiple people? A crowd. A crowd! That’s it! That’s all you needed! This person couldn’t take you if so many people were around! But there was only one problem. What event was happening today? A sunset! People would be there! It might not be a lot, but people would still be there. Maybe, just maybe, you could have people stay with you till it reaches midnight. That would being your get away. You just needed it to work.

The day awaited. The door being taped shut. Your computer being opened with you typing ways to lock yourself inside of your room. Studying what time the sunset would start. You were going to pull this off. That was what you thought as you walked town the hall way. You were prepared. You had two knives in both of your pockets and you had pepper spray inside of your small bag. You just needed to sit and watch.

The air had a nice breeze. It may have been near the end of April, but it still felt lovely on your skin. You couldn’t remember the last time you sat down to look at a sunset. If you had to die, you couldn’t wish for it to be any different than watching a beautiful sunset.

As you sat down on the gray, lumpy rock, you felt another presence sit beside you. You tilted your head and, too your surprise, Damian sat their. He was watching the sunset with that same cold glare you’d grown use to. God, was he probably pissed off.

“Why were you ignoring my texts and calls”, he crumpled out. Yup, he was definitely pissed.

“He’s coming after me Damian. It-it wasn’t safe for you to be around me. Not when he could jump out at any place”, you said miserably. You didn’t want to die with him angry at you. You wanted to kiss him. It might be your last kiss, but you wouldn’t want it any other way.

“So you decided to come out here? In public. He could also grab you from anywhere you know. It quite stupid, Y/n. I thought you were smarter than this”.

“I’m sorry. I don’t want things to end this way. I couldn’t- I couldn’t live with myself if my final moments would be with you hating me. Please”, you said as a tear escape your eye. You were going to die. You knew it. It scared you. Who wouldn’t be scared? It was the unknown, which most people seem to be afraid of.

“I’m not mad. I just want to help you, Y/n. I can’t- I can’t loose you. You’re the only thing I fucking have. Without you, I’d honestly go mad. You can’t leave me. I wouldn’t even let you”, he said with a smile creeping up onto his face. You’re rarely saw him smile. God was he just adorable. What would you do without him.

As you two watched the sunset you could only begin to remember. You remember watching the sunset on your first day here with Steph. You were going to miss it. All of what you’ve learned paid off. You would never forget these moments as your life would slip away from you.

The thing is, you knew you were going to die. It didn’t matter if they killed you or not. You would rather live dead and free than be imprisoned in some unfamiliar place. It would be your choice. Someway, somehow, you would escape one way or another. Whether you lived was the question.

As you walked back to your dorm, Damian began to speak. “I’m going to go grab something from my room. Put the note in your locker and then go back to your dorm straight after. ……. Y/n, we’ve got this. We can do this. I’ll be with you the entire time”, he said as he rubbed your arm up and down in a soothing motion.

You smiled at him before you both turned around to continue your adventure. As you neared your navy blue locker, you put the note inside that read “Stephanie Brown”. Your last guess.

As you walked back to your dorm you could only begin to realize something was horribly wrong. The pepper spray and your hand was tightened by your fingers. As you neared your dorm you could feel that feeling increase. You walked inside of your room feeling off. You looked under your bed, in your closets, and out of your window. Though, you forgot one thing. Behind you. The loud sound of a boom entered your ears. Looking up after you’d fallen down from impact you saw someone staring down at you. It was none other than, Stephanie? “I’ll see you soon, Y/n”, she said as she hit your head one more time with the object she was holding. As you collapsed you were unable to process what was happening. Maybe you’d understand tomorrow. Or maybe in the next few years.

Written: Wednesday, September 20, 2023

#Yandere Damian Wayne #Yandere Damian Al Ghul #Part 14 #A Letter #Katniss Everdeen #Hunger Games #SunSet #Stephanie Brown #Final School Setting

33 notes · View notes

hazbin-luciferalastor · 20 days

Text

#hazbin husk #hazbin alastor #hazbin lucifer #hazbin niffty #hazbin rosie #hazbin hotel #anastasia crossover hazbin hotel #part 14

9 notes · View notes

zepskies · 10 months

Text

Break Me Down - Part 14

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x Female Reader

Summary: You’re a private investigator by trade, but now you happily sit at a desk — leading a surveillance team at Supe Affairs. After managing to end Homelander in New York, Soldier Boy escapes custody. You are recruited for the manhunt, joining Butcher’s team.

Truly, you joined the S.A. for the right reasons. But after you become his accidental hostage, Soldier Boy will break down every single one of them…

💚 Break Me Down Masterlist

AN: Stick around at the end for a special note — new SB fic dropping soon!

Word Count: 6,000 Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! We return to the smut! Plus a healthy dose of fluff, angst, action, moral quandaries, and feels.

Part 14: Safe House

Jon lied in his hospital bed, frowning hard at a computer screen. His arm and collarbone were broken, along with a few ribs. He had a private room, at least, courtesy of Vought.

Stan Edgar strode in following a quick knock on the door.

“Hello, Jonathan. I meant to visit you earlier,” said Stan. Jon stared at his boss, silently simmering. On his laptop played footage of the destruction wrought on the Lower West Side by a major car chase.

“How are you feeling?” Stan asked.

“Why was Black Noir set loose on my wife and daughters?” he seethed through gritted teeth. Damn how the effort of keeping still was almost as painful as moving.

“Ex-wife, isn’t it?” Stan said, raising a brow.

Jon was not amused.

“I gave the order, yes,” Stan acknowledged. “On your eldest daughter.”

Jon was incensed. If he could get out of this bed, he’d very well contemplate strangling the other man. Stan seemed to know it, but considering his personal security guards were standing near the back wall of the hospital room, he also didn’t look worried.

“Why?” Jon asked, genuinely surprised and dismayed. “She’s not a threat.”

“Soldier Boy kept her for a reason,” Stan pointed out. “She brought him to our doorstep, with the intention of helping him assassinate me…eliminating her was a calculated risk.”

Jon shook his head.

“But since Noir has failed, we will have to prepare accordingly,” Stan said.

Jon glared back at him. “You think I’m going to help you?”

“I think you have a job to do,” Stan returned. “It didn’t stop you from breaking your daughter’s ribs, and very nearly her neck.”

Jon faltered, a brief regret weighing his frown.

“That wasn’t…that was to teach her a lesson.”

Perhaps he’d gone a bit too far, but he’d only been trying to subdue you. To get you to listen to him. But you’d always been stubborn.

Stan broke him from his thoughts.

“I am not being attacked, Jon,” he said. “We are. Your daughter is a part of it.”

“Marie and Luisa are not. Leave them out of this!”

Stan merely rose a brow. He folded his hands behind his back and withdrew. He was flanked by his bodyguards as he left the room.

“Rest up, Jonathan,” he said. “I’ll need you soon enough.”

The master bed was actually pretty comfortable, as you and Ben found out.

You clung onto his shoulders after both of you were spent. You panted for breath as he held you to him with his solid arms wrapped around your waist. You two were both kneeling, technically, in the middle of the bed.

Your thighs were molded to his hips, and he was still buried deep inside you. But as of yet, you had no reason to move. You were enjoying your vantage point above him, watching him collect himself with closed eyes.

The simple truth of it was, you’d missed him.

Even when he was being a stubborn pain in the ass, you hated every moment you had to watch him caged, watching him start to think he may never get out.

Your hands slid around to his back. It allowed you to hold him in more of an embrace as you caught your breath.

When his eyes opened, you met him with a smile. You slipped your fingers through his sweaty hair. Holding your free hand at the nape of his neck, you pressed your lips above his brow. Then another kiss to his scratchy cheek. His beard had gotten overgrown.

“You need a trim,” you said, letting out a breathy laugh. You kissed his cheek again. Slow, and with purpose.

Ben let out a sigh through his nose. His eyes closed again at your gentler kisses, your touch. Maybe he reveled in this—being able to hold you back. It felt right.

If he was honest with himself (and this time, he was), you were somehow able to ease the frayed edges of his mind. Edges that had been starting to unravel in that cell.

And there were other things too, that he was beginning to realize, but not yet willing to cement in his mind.

So you reluctantly detangled from one another, but remained in bed. The problem was, for whatever closeness you two had just shared…you weren’t quite sure what to do now.

You hesitated to ask him just what the two of you were doing. Mostly because you didn’t want to ruin whatever this was by labeling it.

So instead, you relaxed against his chest and pulled the blankets over you both. Ben didn’t just tolerate it; he settled a heavy arm across your lower back and over your hip. It made you smile.

“Ben…what do you want from the rest of your life?” you asked.

You didn’t know what possessed you to ask, but you had to wonder what the end goal was for him, after the issue of Vought was settled. After he presumably kept his end of the deal and retired to South America, or Europe, or wherever he wanted to go, really.

His hand came up to pet your hair. “I just got some of it.”

You huffed a laugh, hiding your face into his chest for a moment. You couldn’t see it, but Ben grinned at how easy it was to embarrass you, for how wanton he knew you could be.

“Come on, seriously,” you said.

“Seriously?” he teased.

“Yes,” you said, despite a giggle.

He let out something of a sigh. Meanwhile, his hand drew lazy patterns up and down your naked back.

“I always thought I had time,” he confessed. “To settle down. Have a family…I actually thought it would be Tess.”

That thought was accompanied by a bitter chuckle. Your brows furrowed in question.

“Crimson Countess,” he explained.

“Ah.” You nodded and rested a hand across his lower abs, playing with the thin trail of hair there that led south. He found it strangely soothing, if a hint arousing.

“Was it difficult killing Homelander?” you asked.

Ben scoffed. “Just chock full of questions tonight, aren’t you?”

You sat up and propped an elbow on his shoulder, so he had to look at you.

“Not physically. Emotionally,” you said. God forbid you ask him about his man feelings, but you really were curious.

Ben eyed you with a raised brow.

“I know he wasn’t really your son,” you said. “He was a raging psychopath and needed to go down, but was there a part of you that…was it hard for you?”

Ben’s mood dimmed as his lips pulled into a frown. “He was a true disappointment. Barely a man.”

That didn’t quite answer your question, but you thought you could read some of his true feelings on the matter. You didn’t think he regretted killing Homelander. But maybe he mourned the connection he could’ve had with a son. From what he’d said about Crimson Countess, you knew he wanted a real family.

That softened you. You brushed a lock of hair away from his eyes with delicate fingers.

“He was told he was a god his entire life. That’s what happens,” you said.

Ben scoffed at that, his gaze cutting away from you. You didn’t know what that meant exactly.

“And you?” he asked, turning back to you. “What do you want from all this?”

“Besides my family safe?” you retorted. But then, you considered his words. “I don’t know. I thought I knew who I was before I met you. Now I’m realizing that I can’t control anything in my life.”

Ben raised your chin, and therefore your face up to him.

“You can control you. You’ve been doing that since I met you.” His thumb swiped against your lower lip. “Especially this fucking mouth.”

You smiled. “But you like that though.”

His lips pulled at amusement, huffing in response.

“Come on,” you teased. You moved, slipping a leg over to straddle his lap. You delved into his hair with both hands, and he let you tug his head back as he now looked up at you.

“Admit it,” you said cheekily. “You like my mouth. Talking back to you…on you…and getting you off.”

All while you spoke, you brushed your lips across his cheek, down his jawline, pressed a nipping kiss along his neck, below his ear. Then you returned to his lips. But you also ground down into his lap, feeling his rising length brush against your wet folds.

He groaned deep as you plied him the way you’d learned to do. And your tongue slipped into his mouth with your next kiss. He gripped your hips tight, wordlessly urging you to lower down into his lap and onto his waiting cock. But you resisted.

“Say it,” you demanded.

When he merely smirked, denying you control, you lowered a hand to take a firm hold of his cock. He let out a low hum of pleasure as you pumped him a couple of times, then held him poised at your entrance.

“I’ll give you what you want,” you said, brushing his lips. “But first, tell me how much you missed this.”

His next breath came out sharp as you squeezed his cock in your hand. You knew you’d find his fingerprints on your hips and ass in the morning, but you didn’t care. Because you were about to fucking win.

“Fine,” he said, through clenched teeth. “Maybe I’ve been craving this, more than a fix. More than goddamn sleep.”

Ben’s eyes were dark with lust, and he thumbed at your lower lip.

“And this fucking mouth. Gets you into all kinds of trouble, baby doll.”

You smirked and finally sunk on top of him. His cock slid past your folds and bottomed out inside of you, making you shudder and Ben groan in relief.

You did exactly as you promised. With your hands braced on his shoulders, you moved over him nice and slow.

Well, nice for you. Torturous for him.

He cast his head back to the headboard as he fought not to make you move.

“You’re fuckin’ killing me here,” he growled.

Your mouth curved into a grin.

“Alert the media,” you said. “We’ve got the ultimate weapon against Soldier Boy: a slow ride on his dick.”

Ben’s rich laugh rumbled out, crinkling his eyes at the corners and making you smile. You felt the impact of his laughter deep inside you, which wasn’t unpleasant. But you had mercy on him and finally picked up the pace. He grabbed a fistful of your hair for leverage while your lovely tits bounced in his face.

Then his fingers slid between you, parting your folds to rub at your clit. It made your hips stutter as you let out a mangled moan. Your inner walls started to tighten around him, earning you another muttered curse. He couldn’t help but thrust up inside you, mostly in time with your movements.

But he got impatient.

He grabbed your hips tighter and flipped you over, with your thighs wrapped around his hips.

“The moment I saw you, I knew I’d have you,” he gritted out. “Fuck, just like this.”

You gasped as he pounded deeper inside you. You felt like the bed was going to swallow you up. But you pressed your heels into his lower back and held on for the rest of the ride.

Within moments, Ben spilled into you so hard and fast that it took both of you by surprise. It felt hot and tingling inside you, making you shudder again.

Thank God for IUDs, you thought.

And when his fingers found your clit again in time with his last wild thrusts, it was enough to tumble you over along with him.

Afterwards, Ben braced himself on the headboard as a line of sweat dripped down the column of his neck. You grabbed onto his free hand while you caught your breath. His lips tugged at a smirk, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand.

“And we’re not done,” he said. “Not by a long shot.”

Ben woke to the annoying sound of coffee percolating. A normal man would have slept right through it, but thanks to his sensitive ears, he was up at…

Christ, it’s 11 in the morning. He noted the digital clock on the nightstand and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. He actually slept all night. And all morning.

Up until recently, that had been impossible.

He heard puttering in the kitchen, knew it was you because of your soft humming. It drew a smile to his face without him realizing.

He climbed out of bed, showered, shaved and trimmed off the wilder parts of his beard, and dressed casually with the clothing he found in the closet. Wasn’t a perfect fit, but it would do for now.

This house was also not what he was used to. It was small, and too “suburban dad” for his taste. But he guessed it was better than an underground glass prison cell.

He ventured into the kitchen, where the smell of good food made his mouth water, and the sight of you frying bacon (trying not to get burned by the sparking grease) deepened his grin.

All you wore was his discarded shirt from yesterday, presumably over your underwear as it hung around your thighs, and a pair of slippers you must’ve found in the closet.

Maybe you heard him coming, because you glanced back over your shoulder and met him with a smile. But it soon edged into a more serious look as you turned and leveled him with your spatula.

“Okay. I don’t want any smartass remarks,” you warned. “I did make breakfast, because I’m a nice person, but don’t expect this for every meal.”

Ben raised a wry brow.

“Morning to you too,” he drawled. He rested a hand on your lower back as he looked over your shoulder, surveying the plate of cooling bacon, the pan of scrambled eggs, and the toast ready to be buttered on the counter, next to a jar of strawberry jam. “Looks good.”

You watched him steal a piece of bacon, your lips quirking.

“Is that a thank you?” you asked.

He purposefully bit into the bacon instead of answering. You gave him a narrowed look, but you were still amused.

“Even a child can say please and thank you,” you pointed out.

Ben turned to you then and hooked an arm around your waist, suddenly pulling you tight against him.

“All right. How about this?” he replied. His head bowed and kissed you thoroughly. He tasted coffee and jam on your tongue. A surprised moan caught in your throat, and you clung to his arms on instinct. Meanwhile, free hand went to your hip, bunching the material of the stolen shirt.

When he broke from you, he looked down on your somewhat dazed expression and had to temper his smile. He gave you a nice slap on the ass, shocking a yelp out of you.

You shot him a dry look.

“Is that please, or thank you?” you teased.

Ben rolled his eyes and kissed you again, trapping you against the counter this time. But he didn’t allow himself to get carried away (yet). He swept back strands of your hair and let his fingers skim across your cheek, feeling your skin warming under his touch.

He finally settled on brushing his thumb across your bottom lip, meeting your eyes.

“Thank you,” he said.

It had a deeper meaning, you realized from the gravity of his gaze.

“That fucking bitch probably wanted to put me on ice the second they brought me in,” he said.

You could only assume he meant Grace.

“You’re probably the reason that didn’t happen,” he continued. “And that I’m here now.”

Emotion threatened to choke you, beginning to sting your eyes. You cleared your throat and soothed a hand along his forearm.

“You made the deal,” you pointed out. Ben shook his head.

“You were right. I want the fucking target off my back, once and for all,” he said. He touched where a smattering of bruises from the car accident colored your temple and part of your cheek with fading purple and yellow.

“But I’m getting it off you too," he said gruffly. "You want a deal? Here it is: no one’s fucking touching you again as long as I’m around.”

Your breath hitched as your heart began to hammer in your chest. You wanted to ask what that meant. You wanted to ask if, maybe, he wanted to be with you. If he…

But you lost your nerve.

“The eggs are gonna get cold,” you said in a coarse whisper.

Ben smirked.

“That’s really what you’re fucking worried about?” he asked, shortly before he cut off your would-be reply with a heated kiss.

Your arms twined around his neck, almost of their own volition. He already had you by the waist, and from there he hefted you effortlessly onto a small clean portion of counter space in the kitchen. His hands burned up your thighs, underneath the overlarge shirt. When he encountered nothing but bare ass, his lips curved against yours.

“What a naughty girl. You’re out here cooking with no fucking panties on?”

It was your turn to smirk as you held a hand to his cheek. He did in fact trim the beard.

“You like that, don’t you?” you remarked.

His dark chuckle was your answer as he spread your thighs wider. Your breath came out a bit shakier as his hand went smoothly up the inside of your thigh and slipped between your folds.

“Already wet for me, I see,” he said. His smirk only grew as you whined with pleasure at the invasion of his fingers. First just teasing inside your entrance, working you up. Your grip on his neck tightened, your nails digging into his shoulders.

“Ben…”

“How many fucking times I gotta tell you to be patient?”

“Ugh.” You dropped your forehead into the crook of his neck. “You are the worst.”

His resulting chuckle reverberated in your chest and tingled down into your lower belly. Combined with his teasing, it made your inner walls tighten on nothing from anticipation…until two of his fingers suddenly sunk deep into your heat. You cried out into his ear in surprise.

“Ben,” you breathed, but it ended on a moan as he finally began to give you what you wanted. His thumb found your clit and circled slowly while he thrust and turned his fingers inside you. You gripped at his hair, holding on tighter and tighter as your walls clenched on his hand.

“That’s it, baby doll. I gotcha,” he muttered. Though you teased a grunt out of him when you snaked a hand between you to palm at the bulge in his jeans. If he was going to give you a good morning, you’d be sure to return the favor.

He kept working on you, but with shaking hands you unzipped his pants and aimed to free him from those tight boxer briefs.

Unfortunately, your cell phone ringing halted both of your plans. It was on the kitchen counter, and it vibrated across the tile next to you.

Butcher calling…

Both of your heavy breathing accompanied the shrill sound. But when you noticed the caller ID, you gave Ben a rueful look.

He frowned in annoyance, but he withdrew from you, wiping his hands on a kitchen towel before he grabbed your phone and answered it (even if it took him two or three angry tries on swiping the green button). You put it on speaker.

“What?” Ben grouched into the phone.

“Apologies for interrupting what I’m sure is a dewy morning after,” Butcher said with all due sarcasm. “We’ve got a lead on Neuman.”

You raised a brow at that. Tugging down your shirt back over your thighs, you answered, “Where is she?”

“She’s giving a speech at NYU this afternoon.”

You frowned. You knew for a fact he hadn’t run that by the whole team.

“It’s not a good idea to catch her there. Too exposed. Too many people could get caught in the crossfire,” you said.

“Her next scheduled outing is a fundraiser for the homeless. That any better?” Butcher asked with mock cheer. “At the least the college kiddos won’t be coughing up a lung because their hepatitis A’s on a flare up.”

Ben’s lips twitched at amusement, but your frown only deepened in irritation.

“You’re unsavory, you know that?” you said, rubbing at your temple. “…Fine. We’ll catch her at the college.”

“Wasn’t really up for fuckin’ debate,” Butcher replied. “We head out in two hours.”

This isn’t going to be easy, you thought.

You were teamed up with M.M., Annie, and Hughie on surveillance, sitting in Frenchie’s van on one of the side streets outside the auditorium where Victoria Neuman was giving her speech.

Kimiko and Frenchie had formed a perimeter with Butcher on the campus. After the speech came to a close, Butcher, M.M., and Frenchie had worked out where Victoria would likely be escorted out to get back to her limo.

But you forced yourself to take deep breaths. You watched the various camera angles you and M.M. had been able to hook up to the monitors inside the van. On one of the screens was Ben in his full Soldier Boy gear, sans helmet, waiting for his cue.

You felt M.M. glancing at you, and you met his stare. His expression was tight, but mostly stoic. Still, you had a feeling you knew what he was thinking.

“He can do this,” you said.

M.M. shook his head and faced the screens. “You think you can fucking change him.”

“No,” you said. “But he just might surprise you.”

You weren’t trying to change him, nor were you trying to free yourself anymore. He’d caught you, in more ways than one.

Now, you were just trying to help him. And maybe, help yourself.

“I don’t give a fuck,” M.M. bit out. Annie and Hughie glanced at both of you in thinly veiled concern. You just quirked a humorless smile.

“I think you do,” you replied.

“All right, look alive,” Butcher said on the comm. Victoria’s speech was over. She was shepherded off the stage by her bodyguards while the president of NYU got up to make closing remarks.

She got as far as the hallway leading to the back door of the auditorium before Frenchie and Butcher sniped out her guards. You watched Victoria gasp and flinch at the bullets flying all too close to her. She looked around sharply, but finding no one there, she made a run for the exit.

That was when Ben ambushed her from the side, grabbing her from behind and shoving her through the door of the next room before she could aim her gaze at any part of him.

Ben stalked in after her. You adjusted the camera monitors to connect to the science lab they’d burst into. Every muscle in your body tensed as you watched.

Meanwhile, Ben was wary but not afraid as he kept his shield in front of his face. Victoria raised a hand to a her now bruised arm, but she scrambled in her navy pencil dress and heels to pick herself up.

She looked up at the supe striding toward her, taking in his head protecting his upper body. So she focused her gaze on his right thigh, making him falter as her power made her eyes roll into her head and blast at his suit.

The skin underneath was durable though. It felt like a nasty sunburn, one that Ben could ignore. He approached until he could grab her by the hair and turn her face away from him. She cried out, clawing back at his hand.

He placed his shield onto the holster on his back and got a hold on the back of her neck. He forced her onto her knees while he made her keep looking at the ground.

“Soldier Boy,” she panted. “Haven’t had the pleasure.”

“Cut the fucking chit-chat. Where the fuck is Stan, that dick tease?”

He was about to start squeezing his grip, when he was suddenly thrown into the far wall. He fell into a mess of student desks, beakers, and various scientific instruments.

“Zoe!” he heard Victoria shout. Apparently the woman’s daughter was a supe too. A telekinetic, by the looks of it.

With an angry growl, he picked himself up and shook off the glass from his shoulders. By the time he looked up, Victoria was ushering her daughter out the opposite door.

Ben ran after them, following them into what seemed to be another classroom. This one was full of students busy taking a test, and a professor grading a large stack of papers. Ben zipped through and ignored the gasps and shocked faces, along with a couple of kids that recognized him and immediately took out their phones.

He also didn’t care that his elbow knocked the stack of papers to the ground (to the professor’s outrage).

He bulldozed his way into another empty classroom, where he threw his shield at Victoria’s back. With a cry, she tripped and fell into a desk, and was separated from her daughter.

“Mom!” Zoe cried and reached out for her, but Victoria raised a frantic hand.

“Stay there!” she shouted back at her. Her attention focused back on Ben.

She razed at his face and chest with her powers. Ben winced as heat flared across his skin, blistering to the point of second-degree burns on his arm after protecting his face. He strode forward and grabbed her again, this time with a thumb pressing over one eye.

“You wanna keep your fucking eyes, or you want to tell me where your father is?” he demanded.

“No!” Zoe shouted. She raised her hands, and a violet glow of energy spread between them. Ben picked up his shield, ready to use it as a projectile against the girl.

Until your voice sounded in the comm in his ear.

“Go easy, Ben. She’s not the target,” you warned. He hesitated, his lips twisting in annoyance.

“Zoe,” Victoria warned. His thumb still pressed threateningly against one of her eyes. The other looked up at him, defiant. But her lower lip was trembling.

“You really want your daughter to be a part of this?” Ben asked darkly.

You were on pins and needles. While you watched the screen, M.M. glanced at you.

“We need to do something,” Annie said. She had been antsy the entire time, and when Hughie tried to grab her shoulder, she shrugged him off.

“We can’t extract the girl without Neuman seeing us,” you said. But you weren’t happy about it.

Annie gave you an incredulous look. “So you’re okay with that psycho killing a little girl?”

“Of course not, Annie!” you snapped. “But this is the reality of catching criminals. They rarely go down by themselves.”

She frowned angrily at you.

“That sounds like an excuse for murder,” she said.

There was a tense moment, in which you and Annie stared back at one another. You eventually relented.

“Okay, go. But stay on standby with Kimiko and Frenchie. They’re outside the classroom, 112B,” you told her. She and Hughie raced out, and you let out a breath while you turned back to the tense scene in front of you.

“Look, I don’t know where he is,” Victoria said. “We haven’t exactly been on speaking terms.”

“Then get him on the fucking phone,” Ben snapped.

A tear streamed down her eye, the one that briefly closed, then looked up at him.

“He’s not a bad man,” she said. “Not…entirely.”

Ben snorted in response. “Well, aside from trying to replace me with a bullshit knockoff, shipping me off to motherfucking Siberia. He stole from me. My life. And the bitch of the whole bunch, tried to kill me with a fucking clone, with the help of my own DNA. So excuse me if I’m past the fucking point of forgive and forget.”

“Fine! Fine,” she said, when he started squeezing in earnest. “Let my daughter go, and I’ll help you.”

Ben glanced up at the girl. She was frightened, with her glowing hands still poised to try and take him out. He still had half a mind to knock her out first.

“She’s just a kid, Ben. Let her go,” you said in his ear.

After another tense moment, Ben nodded.

Annie burst into the classroom, followed by Butcher, Frenchie, and Kimiko. Annie reached Zoe with a gentle hand on her shoulder, and she shared a look with Victoria.

“She’ll be okay,” Annie told Victoria, who nodded as more tears slipped down her cheeks. Ben held her firm by the shoulders when Butcher came with a device, no doubt provided by the CIA. It looked like a large metal band that clicked into place around Victoria’s head, covering her eyes.

Kimiko and Frenchie led her out, while Annie and Hughie did the same for Zoe. Butcher shared an appraising look with Ben, who stared back at him coolly.

Meanwhile, you let out a deep breath. You sat back in your seat and ignored the way M.M. gave you some cursory side-eye.

Thank Christ that’s over.

Back at Supe Affairs, Victoria gave them addresses to her adoptive father’s known safehouses. Not because they expected to find him there, but because they might find even more material to leverage against him before they attempted to arrest the man.

While Butcher and the rest of the team ran down the leads, you and Annie made sure Victoria’s daughter Zoe was put in protective custody, again, with Grace’s help.

Afterwards, Ben was waiting for you in the car that would bring you both back to the safe house. You rode there in silence.

When you got inside the house and made your way to the bedroom, Ben followed you. It seemed he couldn’t help himself. His arms were crossed, and his face was tight. You waited on him to speak as you started rummaging in the dresser for a shirt and pair of jeans to change into after a shower.

“I don’t need you yapping in my ear when I’m trying to get shit done,” he said.

You paused in your search, and you turned to him, raising an incredulous brow.

“I wasn’t sure if you were going to stick to the plan. Targeted kills only, remember? Zoe wasn’t the target.”

His frown soured. “She hit me first.”

You stared back at him. Then you raised your eyes heavenward, praying for strength. And you let out a breath.

“She was trying to help her mother, Ben.”

“If you’re grown enough to throw a punch, you’re grown enough to take one,” he argued.

“You’ve never hit me once,” you pointed out. “Is it different because she’s a supe? Were you really going to kill a child?”

“I never said that,” he said, glaring at you.

“Would you have killed Ryan too?” you asked.

Ben expelled a sigh of exasperation. “Would you shut up already?”

“No,” you refused. And you followed him into the living room when he stormed out. “You’re not going to weasel your way out of this. Would you have killed Ryan?”

“I don’t know,” he snapped. “He was Homelander’s fucking kid.”

“And that makes it all right?”

“Yeah, are you gonna say that in a few years? If he turns out just like Homelander, are you going to come crying to me to take him out?”

You glared at him. He was making a valid point you couldn’t refute, but that didn’t change what he was trying to do.

“You’re unbelievable.” You shook your head and crossed your arms. “You’re actually justifying this.”

“Whether you want to admit it or not, a supe is a supe,” Ben said, raising a finger. “No matter how old they are, they’re a threat.”

“It doesn’t mean a child shouldn’t be protected, Soldier Boy,” you countered. “A life is a life.”

“Hey, if you want to be sanctimonious, good for fucking you,” he shot back. “But don’t tell me how to do my fucking job.”

“I’m asking you to keep your word,” you said. “For both of our sakes.”

That managed to shut him up. With a sigh, you tried to ease up and take his hand. His glove was busted, the skin underneath was red and raw. He allowed it, but he still looked down on you with reserved irritation.

You knew you didn’t have to remind him what breaking Grace’s agreement would mean, for both of you.

“Just follow the plan,” you implored. “Targeted kills only. No collateral damage.”

After Ben came out of the shower, he went into the bedroom to change with a towel wrapped around his waist.

You were already cleaned up, a messy bun atop your head, wearing a plain shirt and some shorts, and sitting up in the bed with your new laptop. But you subtly watched him move around the room.

You noticed the burns across his chest. You were still irritated with him, but you couldn’t help it. You set your laptop aside and went to him.

Ben saw you coming through the large mirror above the dresser. His head turned to you just as you raised a tentative hand near the burns across his chest.

“Does it hurt?” you asked with furrowed brows. Your fingertips were light in touching his chest.

It did sting, but it wasn’t that bad.

Still, all Ben said was, “No. They’ll probably be gone in a few hours anyway.”

Your lower lip stuck out a little, like you didn’t quite believe him as you inspected the various burns.

Ben eyed you. He still couldn’t fucking figure you out.

He knew you were into him…and evidently, you cared about him.

Still, you fought him on virtually everything. There were times when you seemed almost disgusted by him, but when he fucked you, you acted like he was the eighth wonder of the world.

Even now, that perfect damn mouth of yours was frowning while your fingers moved delicately over his skin.

“You want some aloe vera?” you asked.

He knew by your face that you were completely sincere. It made him chuckle. You looked up at him in confusion.

“What’s so funny?”

Not unlike this morning, he picked you up (smirking at your squeal) and set you down on the dresser. His hands rested on your hips while yours laid gently on a non-burnt area of his chest.

“For someone as breakable as you, you seem to be real concerned about me,” he said. “...You’re really not afraid of me, are you?”

Your fingertips ran down his skin, unintentionally raising goosebumps. Though you considered his question with a tilt of your head.

“Why, are you going to break me?” you teased.

Ben huffed in amusement. His lips drew near yours, hovering but not yet claiming. He wanted you to come to him this time. Wanted you to let him know if this thing, whatever it was between you two, was heading where he thought it was…

And you didn’t disappoint him.

You reached out and framed his face with both hands, and pulled him into a kiss. For once, neither of you were in a hurry as one languid kiss turned into another.

Your tongue slipped into his mouth, and he welcomed you with a deep, reverberating hum, along with your thighs slipping around his hips. He took a firm grip of you there, while your fingers carded through his hair.

“Still not tired of this?” you whispered against his lips.

He backed off enough to look at you. Really look at you. His brown hair fell above his brows, and as was your habit, you swept some of it out of his eyes.

You read his answer there without him having to say it in words.

So you pulled him back in.

AN: 😏 Was their reunion everything you wanted it to be? Let me know in the comments!

(And do you wanna know where we're going next?)

Next Time:

“Good morning,” Stan greeted, raising his mug. “Care for a cup? Perhaps a donut.”

“Still fucking smarmy,” Ben said. He stood in front of the man’s desk, flexing his half-gloved fingers. He glanced up at the walls of this office, this tower in the sky. “We’ve been doing this dance for a long time, you and I.”

“And yet, on entirely different tempos,” Stan replied. “How can I help you, Soldier Boy?”

Keep Reading: PART 15

Special Note:

I'm releasing a new one-shot soon, set in this story-verse called "Love Actually." It's part of @deanwinchesterswitch's Christmas in July fic event running this month!

Go here to check it out and participate (as a writer/artist or a reader)!

Soldier Boy Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Series Tag List:

@deans-spinster-witch @this-is-me19 @waynes-multiverse @mrsjenniferwinchester @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @spalady26 @spnwoman @syrma-sensei @wirdbeimaufhebengebunden @muhahaha303 @123passwort

@xoxovienna @katherineann83 @lollag0w0 @globetrotter28 @nancymcl @ashbatz @secretdreamlandmentality @kristophalis @wonderland2022 @emily-winchester @shelh93 @sl33pylilbunny @spoonmynoodle @chernayawidow

@buckybarnes-1917 @asgardprincess97 @sometimes-i-sing @itsyellow @karnellius @kimberleymjw @is-this-a-febreze-commercial @iamsapphine @sanscas @se-fucking-hun @lassie-bird @jessjad @yepimthatperson @fromcaintodean @stoneyggirl2

@spnfamily-j2 @im-a-slut-for-fluff @lacilou @venicesem @mimaria420 @beautiful-life-coded @tearsfortheyouth @agalliasi @chriszgirl92

#Safe House #soldier boy #the boys #soldier boy/ben #soldier boy x female reader #soldier boy x reader #soldier boy x you #the boys season 3 #soldier boy/ben x reader #the boys au #enemies to lovers #frenemies to lovers #private investigator!reader #the boys amazon #soldier boy smut #break me down #Part 14 #zepskies writes

440 notes · View notes

aintinacage · 4 months

Text

endless will turner - part 14

#endless will turner #orlando bloom #will Turner #william turner #jack sparrow #captain jack sparrow #johnny depp #part 14 #pirates of the caribbean #pirates of the Caribbean 1 #pirates of the Caribbean curse of the black pearl #pirates of the Caribbean cotbp #potc #potc 1 #potc curse of the black pearl #potc cotbp #curse of the black pearl #cotbp

75 notes · View notes

offsidekineticist · 3 months

Text

It Almost Feels Like a Good Day

I'M ALIVE!!!!!!!!!

Hey everyone, sorry I've been radio silent on here for awhile. Needed to take a bit of a step back from social media. No guarantees I'll be super active outside of breakup arc updates, but hopefully I'll be a little more consistent with it going forward. In the meantime, here's part FOURTEEN of the Breakup Arc (dear lord this is going to be a full-length novel by the time I'm done, isn't it? ugh).

CW: Mention of torture, food insecurity, recovering from/living with long-term effects of torture, internalized ableism (Theo has a lot of bullshit to unlearn), toxic relationship dynamics, sensory issues related to scent/taste, reference to vomit

There was no more sleep that night. Ever since Qweck left, much of South Kintargo (including the rickety apartment you're trying to call home) has been engulfed in corpse stench. Nobody knows what is causing the stench, though everyone seems to have a theory. Yours is that this is the natural consequence of leaving the management of citywide infrastructure in the hands of the Silver Ravens, a band of adventurers-turned-revolutionaries who think sewage systems are for sneaking about unnoticed and hiding unspeakable horrors best forgotten, but nobody has cared enough about what you think to ask you. In any case, the stench makes the already daunting task of sleeping through the pain in your hands downright impossible. Instead, you lie awake, staring at the wall and slowly watching light seep in through the cracks in the wood as the sunrises.

You drag yourself out of bed, and Giliys follows immediately. He didn't sleep either, though whether that's because of the stench or some other reason is an open question. He helps you dress with that infuriating patience you had never realized he was capable of, before surveying the empty shelf above the stove. He turns towards you.

"Up for a trip?" he asks.

(He asks because you have had days when you couldn't drag yourself out of bed, but he doesn't have to rub it in your face)

You pick up your bag - a clumsy feat with your hands still splinted - and pull the strap over your shoulder with a glare. "I'm not an invalid."

He bows his head slightly. "Right. Sorry..." He trots over to the door and opens it. "Shall we?"

You hate that you need him to open the door for you, but you don't let it show. You just walk out the door, barely acknowledging him as you go. You hear the door close behind you, and Giliys's obnoxiously cheerful footsteps grate on you as he catches up.

"Same place as last time?" Giliys asks.

"That is acceptable," you say. 'The same place as last time' is a street by the docks in the north of Jarvis End, a neighborhood a little ways northwest of your apartment, where a fishmonger sells six oysters for a copper. It's far but that's the point. The stench makes it so anything you try to eat at home comes right back up - if you can even force yourself to eat it in the first place. Jarvis End has escaped the curse of the Stench, and raw oysters are cheap enough not to break the bank. The flavor is a bit stronger than you'd like, but without the Stench, you can eat it and keep it down.

The trouble, of course, is the distance. It's only half a mile, but you were locked in a closet and only alloved out to walk twenty feet to a walk-in closet of pain for about a month. Your body has decided anything further than a hundred feet is an expedition. But the only way out

is to power through it - the one good part of Qweck refusing to accept that your hands can't be fixed is that it forced you up and down Temple Hill regularly, though you had to take an embarrassing number of breaks to catch your breath along the way.

"Hey, Thay? Think we could slowdown? I'm gettin' kinda winded," Giliys asks from behind you. You scowl because you know he's lying. You're not even halfway there, and Giliys never asks for anything for his own sake these days. It's infuriating. You want to tell him to shut up because it's just a little walking, but you're breathing so hard you can barely say anything.

"Fine," you manage to say after a moment, shooting a vicious glave his way. He bows his head in contrition.

"Sorry, I'm just gettin' old, I guess. Middle age just kinda sneaks up on ya, ya know?"

(He babbles when he lies. He's worse at it than the literal children you worked with at the library, and you don't understand how, with the life he's led, he can be this bad at lying.)

"Seeing as I bleached when most gnomes would consider me scarcely more than a child, I can't say that I do."

His face falls, and whatever cheer he had gained from his successful gambit is immediately lost. His shoulders dip as his head bows even further.

"Sorry. I, uh- I didn't think."

"No, you didn't," you snap.

"Sorry, Thay," he says, quietly this time. You turn towards the road ahead, and the distance that still lies between you and your destination. Giliys's feigned middle-aged moment has given you a moment to catch your breath, but it's time to push on. You'll never get better if you keep making excuses for yourself.

"Let's go."

It is only when you are half a block from the fishmonger that you stop again, huffing and puffing, but this pause of your own accord. You've been here enough over the last weeks that the fishmonger - Molly - has started to recognize you and make small-talk, and you don't want her asking why you can't breathe. Giliys says nothing, only offering you a waterskin, which you take, guzzling the contents greedily. You take a huge gulp of air once you're satisfied and pass the skin back to Giliys. Taking another moment to catch your breath, you straighten up and nod to yourself. You can do this. It's just small-talk with someone who's barely a stranger anymore. So you take a last deep breath and round the last corner towards Molly's spot.

Molly doesn't exactly have a stand. Every Morning, Molly wheels out the various shellfish - oysters, cockles, mussels, clams - which her grown children pulled out of the Yolulibus River the night before (you suspect her children are not properly licensed to dive for bivalves in the river, hence the reduced price). There's no awning to shade her or keep her dry when it rains, but every day, rain or shine, she is out there hawking her wares, smiling without complaint.

Today is no different. As you approach, hands behind your back as if clasped to avoid questions about them, she stands in her light brown dress, an apron hanging from her neck to keep the dress tidy. She seems to perk up at the sight of you.

"Well, if it isn't Sers Theoven and Giliys!"

"Molly!" you return, the prescribed grin on your face, "how's business?"

"Same as it ever was, ser, same as it ever was. But I'm sure you're not here just to see little old me. What can I do ya for?'

"A dozen oysters," you answer.

"Oh, just your luck! Kiddies brought in a bit too much last night, so I'm running a buy one, get one free sale, just for today." You look at the cart dubiously - it doesn't seem any more full than it usually is. Molly seems to follow your gaze and read your dubiousness because she then adds "Wasn't even able to wheelit all out here, that's how much they caught! So if you'd take two dozen off my hands for the price of one, I'd greatly appreciate it."

Giliys hands her two coppers before you can inquire further. "Well, if ya really need us to, I guess we can make the sacrifice."

Molly grins and scoops the oysters into a sack without actually counting them out. "Oh, I knew I could count on you boys!" She hands Giliys a sack of what you're fairly sure is more than two dozen oysters. "Now you'll want to eat them while they're still fresh. You got any left after dinner tonight, you cook em in a stew or toss em back in the river so the kids Can catchem again, got it?"

"Loud and clear, Alive-O!" Giliys says with a jaunty salute as he takes the sack and, almost giddy with excitement, pats your shoulder. "C'mon, Thay, let's eat!"

You give Molly one last suspicious glance before giving her a courteous nod and "Have a nice day" and following Giliys.

"You know she was lying about the extra catch?"you hiss to Giliys as soon as you're out of earshot.

"No, Thay, I don't fucking know it, and even if I did, I can't fucking live on six oysters a day, so let me actually eat a full fucking meal for once," Giliys snaps. A look of regret and something else crosses his face. "Fucking shit - I'm sorry, I didn't mean to snap, I just - I'm so sorry - "

"You've been going hungry," you clarify, the guilt sinking into your stomach. Of course he's been going hungry - halflings have a surprising appetite given their size, and Giliys is enormous by halfling standards. "Why didn't you say something?"

Giliys shrugs."Not like there was anything we could do about it."

"I could have gone with less!"

"Fuck no! You're underweight and healing. I'm not stealing food outta your mouth."

"You're not stealing anything if I'm offering!"

"Use whatever fancy wordplay you want, I'm not lettin' ya go hungry on my account"

"But you'll damn souls to hell on your account." The words are out before you can stop them. You're right, of course, but being right and being relevant or useful are two different things.

Giliys's face falls. He looks away. "Could we argue about this another time? We have enough food today-more than enough. We can fight over who goes hungry another time. Just - let's sit down and eat and enjoy shit for once?"

"Of course, Giliys, silly me, how could I possibly waste my time and energy on worrying that you've been starving yourself, when I could instead be looking forward to the tantalizing prospect of needing to be spoonfed again?"

He squeezes his eyes shut. "Okay. Fine. Can we wait until we've both had something to eat? Because I don't think that's helping either of our moods."

He's right. You don't like that he's right, but he's right. You've also arrived at your usual spot: a wooden bench overlooking the waterfront. "Fine," you say as you climb up on to the bench. Giliys follows after you before producing an ornate dagger from an indeterminate pocket and using it to shuck the oysters.

(You don't know where he got the dagger. If he had it before your arrived in Kintargo, he never showed it to you. You suspect you don't want to know.)

Giliys tries to offer you the first oyster, reaching towards you so you can slurp it from the half-shell. You turn your head away. "You take the first one," you insist. You can almost hear him scowl as he mutters to himself, but you also hear the sound of slurping as he eats the oyster.

"You're eating the next one," Giliys says, his mouth still full by the sound of it, and you hear the sound of his dagger working at an oyster shell. You nod - he said it with that tone that tells you he's going to fight you if you push back, and you see little point now that the point has been made.

The two of you eat mostly in silence, watching the ships go by on the river and enjoying the warm weather and sunlight. It is...pleasant. Even him having to feed you isn't so bad. In other circumstances...It might even be a pleasant -

No. You can't think like that. There can be nothing there.

Still. It's nice.

You eat your fill first. You eat the same as usual, and Giliys keeps going while you resolve that in the future he'll eat more than he's been eating. You should have realized sooner. Giliys is so much bigger than you - of course he needs more food than you do.

Eventually Giliys, pockets stuffed with oyster shells, ties off the bag of remaining oysters and approaches the riverbank. He turns back to you, a mischievous look in his eye you haven't seen in so long you don't actually know when you last saw it. "You ever skip rocks?" he asks.

"I grew up next to a river. Of course I've skipped rocks." You slightly regret the sharp reply, but if Giliys took notice of the harshness he makes no sign, instead barrelling forward, high on the energy of his first full meal in weeks.

"What's yer record?"

"Seventeen skips." You almost smile at the memory. You and your brother used to skip rocks on the Brastle river for hours. Or, rather, you would skip rocks while your brother stubbornly kept throwing rocks into the river. Lad was all raw strength and could barely manage a single skip, no matter how many times he made you explain how to do it.

Giliys grins, hefting an oyster shell in his hand. "Betcha I can beat that." He turns around and tosses the shell.

It plops into the water with a splash. You raise an eyebrow. He looks at you, slightly embarrassed. "That was a warmup. Yep, yep, a warmup. Here, eighteen skips, coming right up!" He whirls around and throws the oystershell overhand.

It disappears into the river with a slightly bigger splash.

And so begins the cycle: Gilly insists he's going to beat your record, tosses the oyster shell into the river, watches it sink without even a hint of a skip, and then he makes some excuse for why it's not his fault. After the fourth or fifth time, you hop off the bench, putting the sack of remaining oysters in your bag.

"Your technique is all wrong. Here." You walk up behind him and putyour hand on his. He draws in a sharp breath, and you pull back - you've startled him. "Sorry, I should have asked - I was going to show you how, but - "

"Uh, nah, you're good," Giliys says hurriedly. "That's, uh - yeah, you're good. What were you gonna show me?"

You close the distance and put your left hand on his. "You keep throwing over your head like this-" You guide his arm upwards, standing on your toes to reach, "which means all the momentum is going straight into the Water. You want it to just skim the top of the water, so you want to throw more sideways and then add a little wrist flick -" again, you direct his arm in the proper motion " - like that."

The shell flies. It skims across the surface of the water, skipping once, twice, thrice - before it slices through the surface into the depths of the river.

"There you go!" you say, patting Gilly's shoulder in congratulations (ignoring the pain in your hand) as you step back from him. "It's not too bad once you know how to do it, right?"

"Uh, y-yeah," Gilly stammers. You look up to find that his face is flushed.

"Are you alright?" you ask, concerned. He's just had a better meal than he's had in some time - is it possible it was too much? Is he sick?

"Yeah, sorry, I just - uh - well, I guess I was surprised cuz, uh...well, y'know, I've never actually skipped rocks before. Kinda didn't really believe people actually did it? Kinda just figured it was some bullshit parents told their kids to keep them out of their hair until they wised up."

He's still flushed, but he seems to be back to himself now. Maybe it was just a trick of the light? You decide to let it go. "If you didn't think it was actually possible, why did you say you could beat the record you didn't believe I set?"

Gilly shrugs. "I mean, ok, I knew it was a thing people did. Just didn't really get it, right? Like when you know something but don't know it, you know?"

You do know - though you probably wouldn't phrase it that way. Nevertheless, you nod. Giliys nods back, as if reassuring himself. "Yeah, so. Uh. I'm kinda done with skipping rocks - uh, shells, I mean. Yeah. So. Ready to go?"

You're not. You're feeling more energetic now that you've eaten, but the prospect of walking all the way home still feels daunting. And the river is calming. Yes, there's the bustle and noise of the docks and the streets, but underlying all of it is the rushing water that doesn't care about any of it, traveling its destined path unbothered by those that seek to profit from it.

"Could we...perhaps...I'd like to stay for a bit, if that's alright," you say tentatively, backing up and then hopping up onto the bench. Gilly is unreadable for a moment, and then he nods before joining you on the bench.

It's nice to have this time together. You shouldn't think so, but it is. It almost feels like a good day, and you have so few of those -

You'll hate yourself for it later, but for now. It's nice.

#part 14 #pwotr pals #oc: theoven derenge #oc: giliys #the (completely platonic!) breakup arc

9 notes · View notes