#with you because when you lay down on the backseat of your car. covered by a leather jacket that is way too big for you.... | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

badasmuse · 5 months

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“Drunk and Possessive Pt.2”

Bada Lee x Reader

Warnings: 18+ (MDNI), drunk!bada, top!bada, language, lowercase intended, oral sex, fingering, car sex, bottom!reader, praise, fluff ending, implied round 2

Summary: bada shows you that you’re hers

Part 1 here

A request so no song

bada pushed you in the backseat of her car and climbed in after you. not gracefully at all may i add because she still has that liquor running through her veins. she huffed and sat there arms crossed, pout on her lips.

“bada..?” you whispered.

she looks at you and pulls you onto her lap and starts feeling you up. fingers slipping down your inner thigh squeezing it making you let out a sigh.

you’re soaked and you know it. you adjust sitting directly on her thigh and whining when she started moving your hips back and forth on her thigh, slapping your ass as she did so.

“you can only dance on me. be all over me.” she said with a pout. like she’s not about to ruin you. why are you pouting??

“bada~” you moan out. your hands go to her hair as you start to move your hips on your own. “please.” you beg. not to sure what you’re asking for.

“fuck, you look so good in this dress.” she starts leaving hickeys on your neck and collarbone. “no one else will make you feel the way i’ll make you feel.” she whispers, pulling your dress up at the bottom and ripped the lace underwear you wore, sticking her hand between your legs.

“you’re soaked,” she whined, “i want to taste you.”

you don’t respond, moaning at her words and grinding down on her hand.

she maneuvered uncomfortably so she was laying on the seats and you were on top of her. “sit on my face.” she says.

“oh… bada i can’t-“ she cuts you off with a huff and pulls you up till her mouth is inches away from your clit. “sit.” she says roughly and you really don’t have a choice.

you lower yourself onto her face still not sitting all the way.

“i said- nevermind.” bada wraps her arms around your thighs and pulls you down onto her face, holding onto you tight while her tongue circles your clit.

“oh fuck!” you moan out holding onto her hair.

she holds onto you moaning as her tongue dipped inside your hole while her nose swiped your clit from time to time. you moan louder at the feeling. you’ve never been ate out like this before.

“bada!” you try to squirm away from her but she tightens her hold on your thighs shoving her tongue deeper.

chile you’re in heaven. especially when her fingers find your clit and she starts rubbing it at a fast pace.

“oh my god i’m so close.” you breathe out pulling her hair with one hand the other one hitting the window of the car door. “don’t stop. bada please, don’t stop.”

she wouldn’t dream of it. she’s been waiting for this for so long. she doesn’t want it to end. she loves being covered in your juices and the sound of you moaning because of her. moaning her name.

“that’s right say my name while you cum pretty girl.” she says before attaching her mouth to your clit, sucking lightly.

“bada, bada-“ her name leaves your mouth like a mantra. hand holding her hair tight as you came all over her face.

she doesn’t stop. she holds you tighter licking up everything that spilled out of you. she sucks on your clit some more and you’re trying your hardest to get up but she won’t let you go.

“b-ada~” you sob, “let me up i can’t.”

she doesn’t hear you. drunk off your taste. (actually the alcohol but let’s not get into that.) her tongue dips inside your hole again and she rubs your clit some more trying to get more out of you. greedy ass.

“bada!” you start shaking as you feel another orgasm approaching. your hand hits the window and the other grips the front seat as you cum on her face once again.

she moves you off and doesn’t waste any time thrusting three fingers into you making you arch at the stretch.

“god you’re mine. you’re only mine. only i can make you feel like this.“ she whispers in your ear as she continued the assault to your g-spot.

you can’t think. all that’s on your mind is bada. the way she curls her fingers into you, the way she licks and sucks at your neck leaving hickeys all over you. she wants people to know who you belong to.

you grab at her wrist, eyes rolled to the back of your head, and in seconds you’re gushing all over her hand. she moves her fingers a little faster, helping you ride it out.

your body is trembling and your makeup is smeared.

bada leans against the seat pouting.

“tf is you pouting for? you just snatched my soul from me.” you say after calming down.

“because i said i love you and you didn’t say anything back” she says pout on her lips still.

you sigh, “bada, i love you. i’ve wanted you for awhile i just always thought i was never your type. i’m not a dancer, not good at anything, i’m boring and you’re not.”

“you’re good at a lot of stuff you just won’t give yourself credit. i hate when you say things like that.” she moves closer leaning on your shoulder. “i want you to be my girlfriend.” she mumbles.

you let out a breath, “i’ll be your girlfriend bada.”

she sits up fast. “really?” when you nod, she grabs you by your neck and pulls you in for a kiss making you moan at how rough she’s being.

“back to our place for round two?” she says against your lips.

“fuck, please.”

#bada lee #swf2 #bada lee x reader #swf2 x reader #bada lee smut #imagine

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neonovember · 11 months

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Carmen definitely has black cat energy, maybe more akin to something like a stray cat (saying that lovingly) but definitely is more cat boyfriend than dog boyfriend. Have to leave him alone and gain his trust and then he’ll be curious about you, and then won’t leave you alone 🥰😭

this is completely true, carmen is kinda stand-offish and reserved at first and he is horrible at replying and calling you back because let’s face it he doesn’t really know how to communicate properly. but even after all that, all of that distance and reservations you force him to come out.

you drag him to a nice hole in the wall lunch spot, you take him for drinks, and then something just clicks in Carmen. Once he realises you aren’t going to leave him stranded he completely opens himself to you, and don’t try and tell me he wouldn’t be the most clingy mf after 😭 this man is literally a toddler yall!

So why not a little drabble down below? A sneak peak if you will. it’s likes 200 worth of word vomit and there’s allusion to smut to enjoy ;)

The busy streets of the farmers market spilled into the morning traffic, as Carmen rushes between crowds with two cups of coffee grasped against his chest.

They burned, really fucking bad, probably searing a third degree burn right under his pelvis but god did he not care, his legs ran with the wind behind them as he tried making it back to your shared apartment as quick as possible.

He had only left the warm bed where you lay 10 minutes ago, only after you had thought about ‘how good a coffee would be snuggled up here’ and Carmen had shouldered on a flimsy fleece jacket and his house slippers before racing out of the house to fulfill your request.

He didn’t regret it now, but he could practically feel his skin itch with a desire to feel you against him again. There had been a celebratory dinner of sorts for the beef after it got recognised as Chicago’s up and coming restaurant of the decade. Carmen couldn’t wait till you both made it to your apartment and just took your right there in the backseat of his car that now stood stationary in the parking lot.

Carmen can still taste you on his tongue and now he’s grateful he took a much needed day off to spend it with you.

Opening the apartment door, the smell of melted butter and grease washes over Carmen’s senses. Flipping of his slippers, Carmen past the kitchen, where used dishes lay on the stove top and the ingredients for pancakes lay open.

“Baby? I got our coffee?” Carmen yells out, and when there is no answer a sweat begins to break on Carmen’s forehead.

“H-honey? You there!?” Carmen yells louder, looking through the living room before entering the bedroom with haste.

“I’m right here Carmy, it’s alright” The sweet saccharine melody of your voice pulls Carmen from whatever fear inducing nightmare he fell into.

You’re here, back where your supposed to be. Wrapped around the covers that smelled of the both of you.

“Made us pancakes” You smile, the sun streaming in through the linen curtains so they dusted all over your gorgeous face.

If Carmen could shift his eyes away from you (which he can’t) he would see the pretty tower of pancakes dripping with syrup and berries plated on the bedside table. Hell, if he saw how well done they were you feared the coffee might get thrown across the room and Carmen will drag you up to his face.

“Got us coffee” Carmen whispered, placing them to the side, forgotten as his mind was consumed with feeling you against him.

“Just get in here already” You giggle, before the sheets are thrown to the side and the warmth of Carmen’s body encapsulates you once again.

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ceruleansx · 11 months

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for eternity | jack champion

↳ pairing : beachgirl!reader x actor!jackchampion

↳ warnings : nothing much but pure fluff, insecurity, comfort

↳ summary : after a long year of filming for scream 6, you, jack, and the other cast members decide to take a trip to one of their beach houses along the coast. you two spend some time together on the beach, only for him to end up confessing his love.

↳ a/n : hey guys!! sry its been a while, but i would really love if any of you guys dropped some requests!!

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

"okay okay!!" jenna screamed as she looked around at everyone. "there's gonna be two cars."

she started naming everyone's assigned seats (just for fun), but you weren't paying attention. you were paying attention to jack. he was there in a little puffy jacket, since he got cold so easily.

his curls looked perfect that day. but not like they always were. you loved his hair. sometimes you just wanted to hug him so tight and mess around with his curly hair.

"and in the backback seat is gonna be y/n and jack!" jenna gave you a smirk.

she knew that you had the biggest crush on him ever since you two started filming. you were his 'love interest' and the directers told you that you guys had to spend quality time together.

but you and jack enjoyed each other's company, without any of the directors orders. sometimes you thought that jack liked you, but you were just too delusional.

you nodded as you walked over to jack. he looked and smiled back at you. now it was his turn to stare.

jack liked you for forever. he started liking you when he saw a movie that you were in. he was practically in love with you. in his eyes, you were basically the only girl living.

but he didn't know how to show it.

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

jack insisted that you went into the very backseat first. your tummy flustered at his action, but he was just being a gentlemen you thought.

the backback seat was very tight for some reason. so now, you two were basically squished. it wasn't awkward or anything, you two were very close.

"hope your not claustrophobic." you laughed.

his face looked like he was gonna puke, "now i am because i'm next to you." he joked.

you opened your mouth, about to say something, but he covered your mouth with his hand.

he could feel your cheeks burning through his palm, and he smiled softly at the expression and feeling. he patted his lap.

"cmere.." he said softly. "it's gonna be a long drive."

you rolled your eyes playfully. "dude the drive is an hour."

he chuckled softly. "so? lay down, cus when we get there i'm throwing you into the ocean."

"cant wait for that." you said as you laid your head down on his lap.

he was honestly so comfy, and so warm. he smelled good too. he was surprised at his own demand of making you lay down on his lap, but he wanted more.

he laid his hands down on your head and started to massage your scalp. you adjusted yourself to be more comfortable, trying to avoid him seeing your face completely red. the others in the front and other back were too busy talking to notice. but jack liked it. he liked being alone with you, just the two of you.

you eventually dozed off to sleep, and jack did too. his hands were now placed on your waist and shoulder, keeping you safe and secure, even though no one was there.

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

"cmon sleepy head." jack teased as you stumbled of the car.

everyone finally arrived to the rented beach house in time. the house was just in front of the beach, the type where the backyard door just led to the ocean and sand.

"i'm weak jack!! i'm done forr.." you groaned, pretending that you bag weighed 1,000 pounds.

he rolled his eyes and ran over to help you. he grabbed the strap of your backpack and lifted it up with no effort.

"the hell?!" he laughed.

he heard you snicker in the back of him. "you little liar!!" he grabbed your waist and picked you up.

"jack!! what the heck-" he put you over his shoulder, "oh my gosh jack if you drop me!" you screamed playfully.

"i won't" baby. he almost said it. he practically thanked the gods that he stopped saying what he was gonna say.

you gave up your efforts of trying to get down. but deep down in your heart, you really enjoyed being so close to him all the time. first the car ride, now this? it had to be a dream for you, but you always were overthinking. jack was just being a good friend. nothing else.

but it wasn't like that in jacks case. jack adored you. his eyes were only for you and forever for you. he would practically worship the ground you walked on. or he would paint every sunset you saw. he really hoped you felt the same way.

after everyone got into their rooms, you and jack started to unpack. the room was a good size, and there was one big bed.

"can you unpack fasterr??" you begged as jack folded every single piece of clothing.

"patience y/n.." he laughed inside as he saw that all you wanted was to go to the beach.

everyone was already unpacked, and they all decided to order panda express and play mario kart. but you nor jack wanted to. you begged him to go to the beach with him and watch the sunset.

he folded his last hoodie and he closed the drawer. "done!" he sighed, seeing a big grin on your face.

"finally gosh." you looked at his outfit.

you were already in your bikini. it was jack's favorite one, but you didn't have to know that. it clung your body so perfectly. sometimes jack wished that you saw yourself in jacks eyes. so beautiful.

"what?" he stared confused.

"where's your bathing suit?"

"oh! yeah." he grabbed the end of his shirt and took it off.

youve seen him shirtless before at the pool parties, but boy he was mesmorizing. his abs were toned so perfectly with his skin.

he caught you staring, and he couldn't help but turn a bright shade of pink. he cleared his throat. "my eyes are up here.." he teased.

you blinked before meeting his gaze. "i just zoned out jeezzz, don't worry, those crazy fan girls will take you all for themselves." you rolled your eyes playfully

"hmmm but what they don't know is that theres a special someonee." he hummed.

you gasped. you tried to pretend that you didn't like him, so he could spit out his crush. theres a part of you that was praying that it was going to be you.

"whoo?! who is it who is it." you started to punch his chest softly.

"stop-pp-" he giggled, since he was so ticlish. he blushed strongly again.

"let's just go to the beach you little baby." he ruslted you hair.

you rolled your eyes, "finee."

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

the sunset was beautiful tonight. jack thought for a moment. for some reason, whenever he saw a sunset, he thought of you. you were his sunset. his light.

he turned to you, seeing the colors of the sky through your pupils. you turned to him and met his gaze. you two held eye contact for which seemed like forever, until you heared a two shrieks.

"o-m-g!! jack champion!!" some two girls near you and jack's age came running offer.

"that's me..!" he said as he cringed to himself.

he looked a little uncomfortable. he was. a perfect moment with his girl ruined. well, in his mind you were his girl.

"can we pleasee take a photo with you??" they begged.

before jack said yes, they both gave you nasty looks. jack noticed their gaze towards you, and he also noticed you reaction. he saw that you were hurt, and that you were looking at one of the girl's bodies.

'she was really pretty' you thought. jack mustve liked her or something since he did a little pose with her, you also thought.

jack didn't though. ever since he met you, he never liked anyone else. and he knew it was going to stay like that.

after a few more pictures, they finally left. he gave a big sigh and sat on the towel next to you again. "told you." you said.

he turned, his curly hair moving along with his head.

"told me what?"

"those fans girls are gonna snatch you up quick."

he chuckled softly, saddened that you thought like that. "nahh, what makes you think that?"

"they were very pretty. perfect bodies too." you brought your knees to your chest and hugged them tight.

jacks eyes turned into guilt and sadness. "well your pretty too.." he said softly.

"yeah but-" you pointed out, "how could a guy not go for girls like them? they got the whole package and stuff."

he paused, scared off what to say next, hoping that it doesn't ruin your friendship. "but maybe.." he whispered.

"maybe some guys don't want annoying girls like them."

you turned your head, finding jack already admiring you. "y/n i-" he stuttered.

why was it so hard to speak? maybe it was because he was confessing his only one true love towards you.

"i'm in love with you. and i know it doesn't make sense because were not even dating, so im not really supposed to say-" he rambled before his words were cut off with your lips.

his breath stopped before he accepted the lustfull kiss. his lips were soft, but filled with such need that hes been keeping. his hands cupped your head as you two started to learn each other's movements.

you finally pulled away and pressed your forehead to his. "your so perfect.." he whispered.

"jack i-" you gulped. "i love you so much, words can't even explain."

"words can't explain how beautiful you are in my eyes y/n. i will love you for eternity." he said.

and with that, you pulled his face towards yours for another deep and loving kiss.

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waldau · 6 months

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insecure — kim mingyu | 2,146 words | fluff, hurt/comfort

milm (man i love mingyu). short haired mingyu is so fucking hot. also, i will gladly spread the mingyu passenger princess agenda.

gender neutral reader. warnings: alcohol.

mingyu doesn't know what exactly he's feeling at the moment. his emotions range from tiredness due to how late in the night it is, to amusement as he half-registers the movie playing on the television, to his heart feeling like it's being crushed and released over and over again.

vernon, in his drunken state, made a quip about you and wonwoo making out years ago.

that has to be a joke, right? you've always said said you've never liked wonwoo that way, and mingyu knows you'd never lie to him. so why does it feel like he's waiting for something bad when he sees your text informing him you're on your way to pick him up from his place to spend a night at yours?

he himself had asked for it earlier in the day, happy when you said you'd love to have him over for the night. but given the stuff that's come up hardly an hour ago, he doesn't know if he wants to see you.

of course he does. but he's worried that he's going to say something stupid to you.

the doorbell ringing shakes him out of his thoughts. wonwoo beats him to opening the door. you're standing in one of mingyu's own hoodies, spinning your car keys in your hand, and the thought warms him up a bit. he's still not used to seeing you in his clothes.

you greet wonwoo and he moves aside to let you in. your eyes light up immediately when you spot mingyu. he raises his arms up to let you hug him from behind.

"feeling cold?" you ask, kissing his head, which is covered with a beanie. he kind of wishes you'd kissed his forehead instead.

"a bit, yeah," he says, not untruthfully. but the cold is not the only reason he has a beanie on. he brings your hand to his mouth to press a quick kiss. as much as he loves you, he's had enough of being teased by the boys for a day. he'd much rather save the real kisses for when you get out of here.

"no greetings for us?" seungcheol asks, taking a sip of his drink.

you smile and say hi to him and vernon. "sorry, guys. i've spent all day away from gyu. you have no idea how terrible it is."

"we've spent all day with him, and we kind of have an idea of how terrible it is," vernon says with a cheeky smile.

"hey," mingyu says, no real annoyance in his voice. you laugh, your hand resting on mingyu's shoulder.

"i'll be more than glad to take him off your hands. let's go, gyu?" you ask.

mingyu nods and pushes himself off the sofa, bidding the other guys goodnight.

you shiver when you step out of the building and walk towards your car. mingyu notices and takes your hand in his, putting it in the pocket of his own hoodie. he knows it doesn't help much, especially when your other hand must also be freezing, but the smile you give him is worth it. he lets go of your hand when you get to the car so you can settle down in your respective seats.

"so, how was your day?" you ask, putting the key in its slot. he can smell takeout from the backseat and his heart does a little flip. just a few years ago, he wouldn't have imagined he'd be sharing a life with someone like this, treasuring late night dinners with someone in a car. and he'd never imagined that someone would be you.

he's glad you're here, even though he knows you're always there for him. it's been an uphill journey getting himself to believe that you really do love him, because there are days like this when he doubts half of everything he knows.

"fine," he says, unzipping his hoodie. the inside of your car is warm enough for him to feel a bit better.

"that's not how you speak if your day went well," you say, reaching over to lay a hand on his thigh.

of course you know him too well. "the shoot began at seven in the morning," he says, leaning back against his seat to relax himself. "and then woozi wanted us to give some input on some lyrics he'd written before we wrapped up for the day. then wonwoo invited everyone home for a dinner party, but the only guys who stuck around were us four, because seungcheol had some ideas for the new choreography."

"aw," you say. "you wanted to leave earlier?"

"yeah. it's better with you here."

when you don't say anything, he looks at you, only to find you looking at him...sadly? confusedly? "not that i'm looking for trouble," you say, taking your hand back from his thigh, "but did i do something?"

of course not. you haven't done anything. even if you did, it's in the past. but the mere possibility that you did it...

"you hooked up with wonwoo."

you blink once. then twice. "what?"

that's an insane accusation to make out of context. so what if vernon said what he said? he was pretty drunk already. "um. i...vernon..."

you sigh. "did he say wonwoo wouldn't shut up about it for a while?"

so it did happen. mingyu nods, a bit numb. time and again his friends have teased you with wonwoo because his roommate is your boyfriend and his best friend, and time and again you've shown that you've only ever wanted mingyu. so why—

"did you...settle for me?" the words sound pathetic, even to himself. but it doesn't make sense otherwise. why would you give up a relationship with wonwoo? his standards for dating are so high, and mingyu often conspires with his friends to get his roommate to go on dates, only to no avail. wonwoo's quite content, being by himself.

you turn in your seat however much you can and look at him. your lips are pressed together in an unhappy line and mingyu hates that he's the reason you look this way.

"is that what you think i did?" you ask, folding your hands in your lap. "that i settled for you?"

"no," mingyu says, and knows he means it entirely. he knows you love him. a lot. but some days the question creeps up out of nowhere and doesn't let go for hours on end.

"then why would you think i did that?"

mingyu shrugs. what was the deal with wonwoo, he wants to ask.

you sigh and reach forward to hold his thigh again. this time, he doesn't let your hand escape, trapping your colder hand in place with his warm one.

"it's true," you say slowly. "i hooked up with wonwoo."

mingyu lets out a shaky breath. "why didn't you ever tell me that?"

"does it change anything between us?"

like hell it would. mingyu would kick himself if that ever happened. he stares at his hand on yours. "no," he says reluctantly. "unless you have feelings for him— i know you don't, baby. but still."

you reach for his hand with your other one, trapping it like a sandwich. an idiot sandwich, he thinks, the thought bringing a small smile to his face.

"when i say we hooked up, we just kissed. a whole lot. but it was only ever that."

mingyu looks up at that. you're serious, he realizes. "just...kissing?"

"yeah. we knew it'd go nowhere. it was a mistake."

a mistake? "when...did this happen?"

"remember that party your friend baekho threw? wonwoo invited me to it."

mingyu doesn't remember the specifics, but he knows you'd been invited by wonwoo because he'd wanted the whole group to meet his old friend from college. mingyu had taken one look at you and realized he really liked you. it wasn't like wonwoo to have a ton of friends that weren't from the band, so he'd immediately taken a shine to you.

you take your hands away from his and he immediately misses them, even though they're cold. "it was supposed to be you," you say, voice small.

"what?"

"the person i kissed. it was supposed to be you."

"what?" he knows he sounds like a broken record.

you let out a small, embarrassed noise. "wonwoo said he'd try to get you alone in a room so i could confess and see what happened. but because we both ended up being drunk by the end of the night, he mistook me for some girl and i mistook him for you and we kissed."

mingyu gapes at you. you're a very graceful drunk, leagues ahead of him, but kissing someone thinking they're someone else?

"shut up," you murmur. "if i'd known it was wonwoo i'd have backed off right away."

mingyu lets out a laugh, his heart feeling so much lighter. to think you'd been kissing wonwoo thinking it was mingyu makes him feel giddy. he likes knowing you've probably been into him longer than he's been into you.

"then what was that thing about wonwoo not being able to shut up?"

you sigh. "he found it pretty funny and always brought it up to the guys, but i wasn't amused."

mingyu can't get it out of his head now. it's more funny than it's sad. maybe it's funny in a sad way. but he can't stop thinking about how awkward it must have been for you to hang out with wonwoo after that little mishap.

"stop laughing," you scold him lightheartedly, smacking his arm.

"i'm sorry," he says, hands reaching out for you. the weight on his chest has almost gone entirely.

it's a bit difficult, but you manage to move to his side and sit on his lap. your car's a bit small for such fancy maneuvers but mingyu always loves being close to you, no matter how.

"hi," you say, finally kissing him. he's missed you all day long, and all he wants to do now is go to your place and hold you in his arms all night long.

"hi," he says, looking up at you. he can't keep the stupid smile off his face.

"still feeling cold?" you ask, lightly tugging at his beanie. "i can turn on the heat, if you want."

the hesitation comes back. he shakes his head, but if you're sitting this close to him, surely you're not going to make fun of him?

"we had the shoot today."

"so you said, gyu."

"they...made me..."

"do a hundred push-ups?"

mingyu's eyes widen. "you think i can do a hundred push-ups?"

"i don't know, maybe?"

mingyu inhales sharply. "then i'll train to do them for you."

you shake your head and kiss him again. "you can do ten and i'll still be happy. what happened then?"

mingyu deflates. he doesn't look bad, not to himself, but it's just... new. he's not used to having such short hair.

"i got a haircut," he says, tugging off his beanie and closing his eyes, scared of your reaction.

your voice is low when you say, "oh, my god."

mingyu doesn't dare open his eyes. "is that a good thing, or..."

"gyu, sweetheart, do you have any idea how hot you look?"

he opens his eyes to see yours trained on his face, flitting between his lips and his hair. he feels the slightest bit self-conscious. "i kind of feel like an egg."

"then you're the hottest egg i've ever seen. seriously, what made you go for it?"

mingyu shrugs. "it wasn't really my idea."

you frown at him. "what do you mean?"

"they thought it'd suit the comeback theme if i had short hair."

you take his face in your hands. "oh, gyu. i'm sorry. i wish you had a say in it."

he nods. he does wish he had a say in it, but as long as you find it hot, he's fine.

you run a hand through his hair, or what is left of it after the trim, your fingers scratching against his scalp much more clearly than they usually do. it feels good.

"i hate you," you say softly.

mingyu's suddenly worried. "what? why?"

"because i'm going to have to change my lockscreen again. do you have any idea how much time it took me to narrow down a perfect choice from all the 1,082 pictures i have of you?"

mingyu groans. "don't scare me like that, baby. also, you have that many pictures of me?"

"i'd have more if you didn't tour so much."

mingyu can't help the laugh he lets out. you really can cure his day with your words, no matter where you are. he pulls you down for a kiss. "let's have takeout and go home, okay?"

you grin brightly at him. "did you just call my place home?"

he supposes he did. but it's true, isn't it? "of course i did."

#i seriously have no idea why i made the company the villain for his haircut. i feel like i read someone's comment and ran with it #regardless of whether it was true or not #also wow this became MUCH longer than i expected it to #i guess that's what happens when 1) i don't write on tumblr 2) i'm not under any pressure #kim mingyu #seventeen #seventeen fluff #svt #svt fluff #mingyu #fluff #waldau writes #🍃 — svt

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rotworld · 1 year

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Human's Best Friend

your friend's dog runs off during a hike, so you go to the nearby ranger station for help. a werewolf shows up.

->contains mild feral behavior.

The Summitville Ranger Station’s front door has four deep gouges slashed across its surface.

The sight of them stops you in your tracks. They’re huge. You lay your hand over the damage and each jagged line is thicker than your fingers. They start just beneath the glass pane in the top half of the door and slither down diagonally in the echo of a single vicious movement. You find yourself glancing around, checking over your shoulder and peering into the woods to appease the panicked insistence of your hindbrain that you’re being watched.

You probably are. This is wild wolf territory, after all. You know because the locals aren’t shy about telling people, the gas station attendant you saw half an hour ago absently mentioning there’s not just one but two packs in the area. So maybe that’s what this is, you reason. Some kind of territory marking thing, a message from one pack to another. That makes sense and helps ease the petrified terror that’s tying your stomach in knots. You’ll be fine, probably won’t even see them. You’re sure they’re busy doing…whatever it is that wild wolves do.

You suddenly remember a conversation you had on the way into town. Sitting in the passenger seat of your friend’s car with no cell service and a road atlas stretched across your lap, her dog Molly nudging her damp nose against one of your hands from the backseat, you’d stared at the little marker for Summitville on the map. “Why does that name ring a bell?” you wondered aloud. Your friend shrugged. Because she’d mentioned it before, she figured. She liked the trails out there, how remote and private it felt when you went deep enough. Maybe that was part of it.

But you remember now. You’d seen it in the news. Summitville has an unusually high number of disappearances for a city its size. All of the towns around here do.

The lights are on but nobody’s home in the ranger’s station. It’s spacious and mostly empty, a few chairs and end tables clustered in the back behind an unoccupied welcome desk. A stack of wildlife books and tourist pamphlets gather dust in an antique cabinet. Old photographs hang on the walls, cloudy sepia snapshots of rivers and rock formations. You call out tentatively, the floorboards creaking beneath your hesitant footsteps. No one answers. You’re considering your options when you hear something outside. Quiet and distant, muffled through the wooden walls, it’s still unmistakable—a howl.

And then another. And then another, this one far closer than the others. You hear footsteps, but they’re all wrong. A heavy, four-legged trot creeps around the side of the ranger station before changing abruptly into a two-legged gait. You see dark fur in one window—flesh in the next. The door creaks open and your blood runs cold. Standing there, blocking your only exit with narrowed eyes and a sharp-toothed snarl, is a werewolf.

It looks like he got stuck while shifting. His limbs are unnaturally long, thick with muscle and covered in black fur, each digit tipped with large claws. But the rest of him, head to hips, is all skin. Scars of all shapes and sizes cover his body, most of the hardened, puckered flesh littering his shoulders and chest. His hair is the same pitch black color as his fur, spilling long and wild down his back. His ears are a strange mix of traits, positioned where a human’s would be but with pointed ends covered in dark fuzz. In the same moment that you notice his shaggy tail, you realize he’s completely naked. Your eyes dart back up to his face. He’s glaring. He doesn’t say a word. You start to panic when he takes a step closer, stammering apologies.

“I’m just—I’m looking for a park ranger,” you manage to tell him. This doesn’t seem to help. He tilts his head slightly and you have no idea what the gesture is supposed to mean, what he wants from you. His eyes are gold and the way he looks at you is feral, assessing something you can’t even guess at. “I need help,” you say. Your breath hitches when he comes further into the ranger station but he leaves you alone, passing you for the desk. You watch in confusion as he starts rummaging through the drawers, clearly looking for something. Eventually, he produces a legal pad and a well-chewed pencil, and then he’s staring at you again. He looks absolutely bizarre, leaning an elbow against the desk casually with a tiny pencil clutched in his furred claws. His tail flicks in what looks like impatience. He clears his throat in a pointed manner.

“Oh,” you say, all of your breath rushing out in a sound of surprise and embarrassment. You’re an idiot. He’s the ranger. “I’m, uh. I’m looking for a dog. My friend’s dog, actually. She’s some kind of poodle mix, I think, with curly brown fur and a red harness. Her name’s Molly, it’s on her collar. I don’t know the trail very well, but we were down by the creek when she wandered off, just past the wooden bridge. My friend’s still there in case she comes back.”

The werewolf scribbles something so illegible you have no idea if it’s English or not. “Do you…” He pauses to cough and clear his throat again. His voice is gravelly like he rarely uses it. When he speaks again, it’s clearer but still hoarse and quiet. “Do you have something of Molly’s? A toy, or…” He gestures vaguely. You don’t understand why it matters, but he’s staring intently at the scarf balled up in your fist. It’s your friend’s. Can he tell? Does its scent clash with yours or something?

“Oh, uh, would this help?” you ask, handing the scarf to him. “My friend was wearing it, but Molly likes it a lot. She’s always rubbing her face on it.”

The werewolf lifts it to his face and you hear him sniffing rapidly like a dog tracking a lost treat across the floor. It’s weird, and a little cute. His nose twitches. He seems put off somehow, his face scrunching up in distaste. Your friend’s perfume, maybe. You’ve heard that kind of stuff is a little strong for werewolves. You’re less frightened the next time you hear someone walking up to the ranger station, the sound of boots crunching the dirt loud and sharp with the door left wide open. The werewolves tail wags with slow anticipation, his eyes flicking to a spot over your shoulder. You turn around and go completely still, seized by primal terror.

It’s a man. A big one. He’s so tall he has to duck to fit through the doorway. Something bothers you, and not just the obvious threat of his overwhelming size. It’s the way he walks. Just like the werewolf behind the desk, there’s something fluid and effortlessly graceful about his entire body, purpose in every movement. He doesn’t make any noise, you realize. The floor seems to groan and creak whenever you breathe, but it’s silent under his feet as he meanders over to the desk. It’s shocking that you might not have heard him coming if you hadn’t looked, given his size and apparent age. He’s older than the other one, you’d guess somewhere in his fifties. You’re acutely aware of just how much he towers over you as he passes.

“Everything alright?” he asks. You nod meekly and his lips curl at that, a hint of a smile on his face before he wipes it away. Like the other werewolf, he’s grown his hair out long, tying some of it back in a messy bun and letting the rest hang loose. He glances briefly over the notepad and nods to himself. “Don’t worry, Sawyer’s my best tracker,” he reassures you. The other wolf, Sawyer, merely grunts, but his tail swishes at the praise.

“Be back soon,” Sawyer mutters. He bumps against the other wolf when he leaves, but the gesture seems playful or at least friendly. They growl softly at each other, Sawyer’s tail slapping against the larger wolf’s leg before he suddenly drops to all fours and shifts. He’s engulfed by fur in seconds, ears lengthening, legs changing shape. You’re still stunned when he lops out the door and disappears.

“Here for a hike?”

That leaves you with the larger one who takes up a spot behind the desk with an easy smile. “Yeah, kinda,” you say. “My friend’s pretty outdoorsy. We’re not from here but we don’t live too far away, so she comes here a lot.”

“This is excellent territory,” the werewolf agrees, nodding. “Quiet. Good hunting. Less light pollution. Humans like it, too.” He rests his arms on the counter, showing off full tattoo sleeves. You see curling, interlocking symbols and animals, the skeletal grin of a deer skull poking out beneath one sleeve. “Vanagandr,” he says, holding out his hand. You smile, appreciating his friendliness.

Then you take his hand and your smile falters. You feel small and vulnerable, seeing how much his massive fist dwarfs your hand, engulfing your fingers easily. You think about the door.

He tilts his head the way Sawyer did earlier, examining you. “None of us where you’re from, I take it. Just puppies who forgot how to hunt.” The way he says “puppies” almost sounds derogatory. “Sorry if Sawyer gave you a fright. He’s had it rough with humans.”

“It’s fine, he just startled me a little,” you admit. “I didn’t expect him to be, uh…”

Vanagandr nods solemnly and makes a deep, rumbling sound. “Mmm. It’s a stress response. Shifting is emotional as well as physical. Going through something painful can make it more difficult.” You just nod, unwilling to correct him, but he seems to pick up on your hesitation anyway. A grin slowly stretches across his face. “Ahh. That’s not what you meant, is it? Nothing to be embarrassed about, I know it’s strange to you.”

He drops the subject in favor of smalltalk, asking about where you’re from, what you do, how you like Summitville’s trails. You find yourself asking questions in return, cautiously at first, more eagerly when he seems endeared by curiosity. Yes, his pack really does handle search and rescue for all of the towns in their territory. No, they don’t get paid for it, at least not with money—they prefer food and supplies. He’s got an old family name that gets handed down through the generations to eldest sons and relatives still living in Norway and Sweden. He mentions he’s the pack alpha so offhandedly that you almost miss it.

He perks up like someone called his name. You listen, but you don’t hear anything. A full minute passes before you can make out something jingling—the little metal heart on Molly’s collar with her name and your friend’s contact information. You’re caught somewhere between relief and disbelief when Sawyer comes prancing back into the ranger station, still a wolf, with Molly hot on his heels, her muddy leash dragging behind her. She looks like a puppy next to him, a little brown ball of fluff against Sawyer’s dark fur. She’s got prickly seeds and twigs stuck in her coat but otherwise seems unbothered by her journey into the woods, more interested in yipping and batting at Sawyer than paying you any attention. Sawyer turns around and snaps his teeth but the gesture is playful, his tail wagging as he bows low and lets Molly pounce on him.

This is, in fact, the cutest thing you’ve ever seen. You’re debating whether it would be wildly inappropriate to take a picture, only to hear a mechanical click behind you—Vanagandr winks, his phone balanced somewhat discreetly on the counter.

“Go find your friend and give her the good news,” he says, waving you off. You’re fighting a broad smile when you leave, hurrying down the trail. She’s never going to believe this!

Vanagandr watches you go with his chin resting against his palm. Sawyer barks at him. “Can’t delete it ‘till I get their number,” Vanagandr says slyly. “Should’ve seen ‘em earlier. They were so embarrassed you weren’t wearing anything. Fuck, humans are cute.”

Molly tires herself out and slumps against Sawyer’s front paws. He curls up next to her, nosing against her head. He lets out a keening sound, a whining howl. “Mm, yeah. It was a nice scent,” Vangandr says, chuckling. He texts Linden, lets him know the search is over. He sends the picture of Sawyer, too, because you’re in it, half-turned and grinning in delight. He remembers how small your hand was in his, rumbling happily.

Linden sends one word back in response: No.

Killjoy, Vanagandr thinks, pocketing his phone. He didn’t mean anything serious by it. You’re skittish and fun to tease, things that get him going. He watches Molly doze on the floor, curled up in the space between Sawyer’s paws. He frowns. How long has it been now? Five years? Six? He sniffs his palm, inhaling the faintest traces of your scent. He misses that—a human, safe and sound in his den. The loud, obvious patter of their clumsy steps, how they fit so perfectly against his body like the half he didn’t know he was missing.

How much worse is that ache for Linden? How desperately does he maintain his distance from the pack humans he treats these days, wanting so badly yet denying himself?

He feels eyes on him. Sawyer watches silently as emotions flicker across his face. Vanagandr sighs heavily. “One of these days,” he murmurs.

He’s all smiles when you come back with another human, watching you fuss over Molly. Sawyer slinks off without a proper goodbye, unwilling to pretend. But Vanagandr stays, deflects your thanks and enjoys your company as long as he can have it. He hugs you both. Squeezes tightly, lingers with his arms around you, recommends a place to eat in town. It was like this, once. Humans, sweet and happy, wrapped in his scent. It will be this way again. He lets you go even though he doesn’t want to. He buries his face against the side of your neck and gives you a small piece of him to carry home, even though you don’t know and it means nothing to you.One of these days, he tells himself resolutely, standing in the ranger’s station all alone.

#rotpeach writes #meanwolves #vanagandr #sawyer #they dont get you in this one but god do they wish they did

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jellyfishsthings · 1 year

Text

This is my first ever fic so...my English are not that good ,since they are not my native language

Warnings: minors do not interact, female reader, no use of y/n, smut, CAR SEX, oral sex (f receiving),teasing, thigh thumping, pussy slapping, p in v, WRAP IT BEFORE YOU TAP IT ... aftercare <3

The mentioned song:

My favorite song is blaring in Remus' car radio and we sing our hearts out as we return from our movie date. We took a detour on our way home and now we are heading to the Cliff Park and overlook the city as every light shuts down as its inhabitants fall asleep.

We arrive at our destination and he turns off the lights. We look at each other and start giggling like crazy people.

"That had to be the worst movie we ever watched." I say laughingly.

"Really because if i remember correctly you couldn't stop laughing over those horrible jokes." He says as he fixes me with a horrified look. "Remind me why I want to be in a relationship with you?"

"Because you love me and will treasure me until the end of time. And the only reason I was laughing was your horrible jokes. Seriously I have gotten so used to them that now this awkward laughing has become a coping mechanism." I say back at him and smirk triumphantly.

"From all those absurd words that left your mouth only few are true." He answers without stopping and reaches over and draws me closer for a kiss. One long and rough kiss that leaves me breathless when I lean back. "I do love you and I will treasure you until the end of time. And I will worship you, as I have done multiple times already, and will continue doing so." He continues without missing a bit and sounding as normal as ever.

His words knock the breath out of my lungs more effectively than his previous kiss. I rest against my seat, firing a look his way and wiggle my eyebrows as I lower my car seat. He unbuckles his seat belt and grabs me to cover his body with mine. He starts kissing me again and I open my mouth practically demanding him to make out with me. He complies happily and sucks harshly at my bottom lip as if saying I'm in charge here, just before he breaks our kiss.

He places his hands on my hips and starts grinding them against his. A satisfied sigh leaves me as he repositions me on his thigh and he starts bouncing me and marks my neck. My forehead glues to his as I open my mouth in a silent scream and let him guide me to my high. My pleasure though is short lived as I accidentally hit the steering wheel and the horn echoes. We look at each other and we burst out laughing.

He wraps his hands around me and lays me in the backseat. He hooks his fingers in my trousers and throws them somewhere near my feet. He spreads my legs and starts running a finger on top of my panties, teasing me, pulling them even higher, giving me a minimum friction of what is going to follow in a few minutes. After he is done torturing me, he rests on his knees and throws my feet on his shoulders as he lowers his head on my heat and starts sucking my clit on top of my panties along with licking and wetting them even more. I whine and whimper as it starts becoming too much, though he doesn't stop and tightens his grip on my hips and fondles my ass, having only one goal, making me come undone as many times as possible. And he does just that. I scream as I reach my high and he circles my clit in the very clear shape of a heart as I calm down.

"Meanie" I whisper to him. He gloats as he answers "Yeah, but you like it that way. Your body responses betray you my love." I hum agreeing with his retort and make grubby hands at him and pouting my lips. He gets the message and leans down to kiss me sweetly on the lips, but I startle as I feel a hand slapping my sensitive cunt. An involuntary moan slips out of my mouth and I look up at him as he stares at me innocently and rips my panties.

"What's the matter, sweetheart?" Sounds out just before he brings his hand down on my cunt, overstimulating my nerves and filling me with pleasuring pain. One, two, three… ten times and stops as I beg him. "Please what, my dove?" He asks mockingly, just to spite me even though he knows exactly what I am asking for.

I stare daggers at him and thankfully he doesn't give me a hard time. He removes my shirt and my bra along with his clothes and enters me without a single warning or changing our position. He fills me to the hilt and I fill his tip nudging my stomach, watching as it reforms my skin in that area. He draws back a few centimeters and slams back into me, his balls hitting my ass. He rests on his elbows, right above me and continues slamming into me at a brutal pace. My hands try to find something steady to hold onto and and travel towards the window, where I leave a very prominent handprint, in its fogged surface from our rapid breaths.

The only things I can hear is Remus' and mine labored breathing, accompanied with moans and grunts and a lovely melody.

The world was on fire; nobody can save me but you.

My favorite song still plays in the background and as we both reach our peak, we whisper these lyrics, adorned with love and confessing one again our feelings for each other.

My eyes roll back and my mind fogs. A nose nudges mine and I slowly open my eyes and see those beautiful green eyes staring back at me full with devotion. We lay on our sides and stay tangled as we study each other and talk hoarsely after our little adventure.

word count: 1.022

#remus lupin #remus lupin smut #remus x you #remus x reader #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x fem!reader #Spotify

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miserable-sarah · 2 years

Text

I Have to Tell You.

Pairings: Sam x reader

Requested

Warnings: language, reader getting hurt,

Summary: Y/n gets hurt on a hunt with the boys, Sam decides he should tell her how he really feels about his childhood best friend.

****

You look around your cold dark room, you were laying on your bed dreading this next hunt. The forest kinda freaks you out especially when you know what lives in it, scary creatures. You’re hunting down a wendigo with Sam and Dean, they’re really the only family you got left. Well they’re not blood related but you’ve been close with them ever since you were little. You love them, they love you, you take care of each other.

You sigh and get up out of your bed, you can hear your bones cracking as you stand up. Your muscles are still sore from the other hunt you were just on. You’re body never gets used to this sorta thing. You shuffle around trying to find something clean to wear, you don’t really have time to take care of laundry. You grab a shirt, jacket, jeans, bra, underwear, and socks all surprisingly clean. You head into the bathroom quickly getting a shower, the hot water feels so good on your skin you wish you could stay in there forever.

After your shower you get dressed, you grab your bag from your room and head to the map room to see Sam and Dean. They look as miserable as you do.

“Well let’s get this done” Dean says huffing. You nod and follow the boys out the door, it’s about a 5 hour car ride which why you got up so early. We would’ve left yesterday but we were all so tired from that hunt we just needed some rest. You got in the backseat of deans car and laid on the backseats

“Hey! Watch the shoes” he says to you, you move your feet so they’re hanging off the seat “thank you” he says getting in the car

“I understand why you always take the back” Sam chuckles watching you cover your eyes to take a nap you give him a wink before covering them completely. You can hear Dean and Sam talking about the plan, and what’s been happening. You probably should be part of this conversation but you know Sam will fill you in when you get up. Sam always lets you sleep before you go on a hunt because he knows you get irritated quickly when you’re tired. Which could be harmful to you on a hunt. You can’t help but smile thinking about how lovely Sam is to you, he really treats you the way you’ve always wanted to be treated. The only problem is Sam, you never know how he feels about you. He probably only thinks of you as a little sister.

***

You’re woken up to Sam shaking you gently. You make a face not wanting to get up.

“We’re here” he says quietly, you open your eyes and see his soft features and his adorable smile. You can feel your heart flutter.

“I don’t want to go” you whine, he chuckles at you.

“Sorry but you have to, you can’t leave me alone with Dean.” You huff at him, chucking at his joke.

“You’re right” you sigh getting up.

You slide out of the car. You’re parked on the side of the road near the forest it’s already getting dark which means you all gotta hike in that forest and find a spot for shelter. Quick.

Dean and Sam gets all the bags out of the trunk, you take yours and some other stuff. Sam obviously tried taking it from you but you refused.

“That’s something my dad would do” Dean whispers to you while you all walk in the forest

You chuckle confused “what do you mean?”

“He would do what Sam did and try to take all your bags, especially if he cared about the girl” Dean whispers again. You get shy not sure what to say.

Sam comes up next to you and gives you his million dollar smile. You just smile back. You and Sam were never really flirty, you were always too nervous to flirt with him. You’d flirt with Dean but just strictly as friends and he knows it. To be fair Dean has told you multiple times to make a move on Sam, you’d just laugh and get shy.

“You okay?” Sam asks interrupting you from your thoughts, you shake your head yes. You can hear a low rumble that sounds like thunder. Your head immediately snaps to Sam, he comes over to you and puts his arm around you. “You’ll be okay” he whispers to you calmly. The rest of the hike Sam and Dean fill you in trying to keep you distracted by the possible storm thar could be coming.

You hate storms, your parents were killed in a car accident on a stormy night. Now thunder reminds you of cars crashing and lightening reminds you of headlights, the sound of the rain pouring is all you heard that night. It freaks you out. You always feel like something terrible is gonna happen when it storms. Sam rubs your back trying to comfort you, he knows this is the worst situation for you. A forest and a storm? He was probably thinking she should just go wait in the car

Dean stops on flat land, you all decide here is a good place to set up, it’s close to where all the killings and snatching has taken place.

Sam and Dean set up a tent while you work on a fire to keep you all warm. You wonder off looking for small branches and twigs to keep the fire going. You get a good pile and head back, you hear an intense screeching sound and realize it’s almost completely dark maybe a few more minutes of low light. You rush back to where your camp site is not wanting to face a wendigo especially when you have no weapons.

Running through the woods, you can hear snapping of twigs and leaves rustling. You’re not sure if that’s you or something behind you but it makes you run faster. You finally reach the campsite, Sam grabs you making you drop all the twigs. He holds you by your shoulders

“Are you okay?” He asks shaking you a little

You stand there looking at him catching your breath with your eyes wide “heard. Wendigo” you say in between breaths.

“Yeah us too. We got worried about you” Dean says

“I’m not sure if we should go after this thing tonight” Sam says to the both of you. You and Dean look at each other confused. “There’s no one else here camping tonight, and it’s gonna storm” he explains further

“Sam, I’ll be okay. And from past experiences with wendigo’ they have people trapped in their caves. We can’t just leave them there to die” You say to him being truthful

“She’s right, Sam” Dean chimes in. Sam huffs shaking his head.

“Fine”

***

You find yourself walking around in the woods by yourself in the middle of a storm. You’re soaking wet and every time it thunders you shudder and when lightening strikes you shake. This is NOT ideal at all. You feel like you can’t even pay attention to the plan. The plan of you to get taken by the wendigo, safely and if it’s not safe you shoot and light the bitch on fire, obviously calling out the Dean and Sam who aren’t far behind you. You can hear screeching and things rusting but it’s hard to make it out over the rain and storm. You can feel yourself dissociating from what’s going on. Maybe Sam was right. Maybe you shouldn’t be doing this right now. You hear a loud bang and clunking noise and then nothing. It was all black.

***

You wake up in a dark, wet, cold, horrendous smelling cave. There’s a tiny bit of light coming from somewhere just enough to see some else tied up in the corner.

“Hey!” You yell out

“Shhhh!” He calls out to panicked “whisper” he says looking at the end of the cave

“I’m gonna help you get outta here” you whisper. He looks at you tied up and softly chuckles

“How exactly”

You try to loosen your hands but can’t. You know if you keep working at it it’ll loosen. Then you can untie your ankles

“I’ll get us out of here. I have people coming to save me” you refer to Sam and Dean.

“Just except it. We’re dead”

“Don’t say that, is there anyone else down here?”

He shakes his head no you notice he gets more sad “my sister was with me” he says looking away at the empty ropes. You feel your heart sink.

“Hey, hey it’s okay. She might still be alive. Okay? We just gotta get these off and look for her” you whisper to him trying to reassure him but you know what the odds are and so does he. He nods in response. “We’re gonna get out of here, I need you to wiggle your arms until you feel the rope getting looser, yours might come undone before mine because you’ve been here longer okay?” He nods to you and starts to wiggle his arms with you.

“You have to be quiet if he comes back, you can’t make a sound. He will just kill you.” He says you shake your head to let him know you understand.

In the distance you hear screaming and screeching, you know he’s back and you know he’s going to eat someone. The screaming sounded like a boy and a girl.

“Was there someone else here before you and your sister?” You ask

“He grabbed Tony first he was my friend, then my sister, than me.” You can hear the fear in his voice. Obviously he can hear the screaming too.

“Just stay focused on the ropes so we can get your sister.” You finally get loose and wiggle your hands out. You untie your ankles and run over to the boy

“I’m Y/n” you say Untying his rope

“Derek” he says

“See Derek I told you we were getting out of here.” You say feeling good that you actually have a chance. Derek just nods and sighs in relief

“This thing. It isn’t human.”

“I know, I’ll explain it all when we get you safe okay” you say moving onto his ankles. Finally getting him free you stand him up and start quietly walking around trying to find an out. You see a flash of light around the corner you quickly back the two of you up against and wall and signal for him to stay quiet. You peek over and see the light flashing. Derek tugs your shirt and points to the other side of him where there’s another light flashing.

Fuck you think. You brace your self picking a wooden stick off the ground. It’s the only thing you have. You stand in front of Derek trying to protect him. Your heart is beating out of your chest. You take a deep breath getting ready to attack. Two boys come around the corner armed. You quickly drop your stick and cover Dereks mouth so he stops screaming.

“Derek these are the people who are gonna save us” you whisper to him trying to calm him down. He nods his head and you remove your hand. Sam can’t help but give you a huge hug.

“Are you okay?” He asks you looking over your body.

“Yes I’m alright. We need to find his sister. There’s a chance she can still be alive.”

“The chances are-“ Dean starts

“Dean. No just trust me” you say cutting him off. Dean and Sam nod, there’s a conversation about Derek and Dean leaving to make sure he’s safe but of course Derek refuses. We all creep around this cave trying to find his sister, her name is Alex.

Dean and Derek are on one side and you and Sam are on the other. You can hear metal clanking you and sam are trying to follow it. You end up in a well lit area, there’s what seems to be a stone table, metal chains, and old and new blood everywhere. It’s disgusting and smells horrible. You can hear a scream and Dean yelling. You run over to where they’re supposed to be and find Derek in a corner scared. Sam runs after Dean.

“What happened?” You ask

“It it tried to take me again” he stutters. You help him up and follow where Dean and Sam went. “Alex is here somewhere” he says “I heard her”

“It could be the wen-“

“No she’s here”

“Okay” you nod you slowly walk around trying hear any sounds. Finally you hear whimpering. You and Derek run over to the girl who was tied up. You both get her loose. Derek and Alex hug in tears.

“Okay we need to go now” you say to the two. You turn around and you’re faced with the monster it’s self. It goes over to Alex, Derek stands in front of her. You see the things arm goes up. You know when it comes down he’s done

“No!” You yell his attention full onto you. You knew Sam and Dean would hear even if it means you die at least they wouldn’t. You hear footsteps behind you. The wendigos claws slashing into you. It was like slow motion. You wince at the pain and fall down slowly. You’re in and out of it. You can only see bits and pieces. The last thing you remember is the wendigo on fire and Sam in your face.

***

You wake up to faint beeping. You can feel pain all over your stomach and chest. You open your eyes and see a bright room, you close them shut again. You squint them open looking around, it was the hospital. You’re hooked up to machines, at least you’re not dead.

“Y/n!” Sam says quickly as he notices you move, you slowly turn your head over to the side of you and see Sam on the side of your bed

“Hey” you say weak giving him a weak smile to follow

“Dean is just getting us food he’ll be right back”

“How long was I out?” You ask

“Two days.” He says “the doctors fixed you up good, it was just up to you to wake up again.” He says you can tell he was so anxious and scared

“I’ll always come back” you smile

***

A couple days later you were good to go home. The boys obviously weren’t going to drive that long with you in the car like that so they got motel rooms for the night. After about a 3 hour drive you were just ready to lay down. That’s pretty much all you can do. You take one of your pain pills you got and Sam helps you to the bed.

“There’s only one bed” you say confused

“Yeah they only had single rooms available.” He says laying you down

“Oh” you say sad. You really wanted Sam to stay with you

“What’s the matter?” He says sitting down on the bed next to you

“I just you know thought you’d stay with me” you say shyly

Sam laughs “I wasn’t going to leave you, I was gonna stay on the couch” he says smiling

“Oh, good” you really wanted to say you can sleep with me but you didn’t

Sam gets up and gives you your water bottle “do you need anything to eat?” He ask

“No I’m okay”

Sam sits back down on the bed and turns on the shitty Tv, you can tell there’s something bothering him.

“Sam what’s wrong?” You ask he looks over at you

“What do you mean?”

“Sam I know you better than anyone. What’s the matter?” He sighs and looks at you deeply in the eyes

“I don’t want to ruin anything” he starts you give him a confused look. “I’ve been wanting to tell you, but I just wanted to wait for the right time. I guess there isn’t a right to time to say any of this.” He trails and takes a breath “I wanted to tell you when you woke up in the hospital but I just felt like it was too much”

“Sam what?” You say just wanting him to get to the point

“Y/n” he sighs “I have been in love with you since we were kids, and teens, and adults. It never went away and I know we’ve been in each other’s life for so long so I understand if you don’t feel the same way but when you got hurt and I really thought I lost you. I was kicking myself in the ass for one not being there and two not even having the chance to tell you that I love you, not even giving us a chance. I just need you to know that I do truly love you and I truly want to give us a shot. If you feel the same way, and don’t worry if you don’t it won’t be awkward. We can still be friends, we can still-“ you cut Sam off by pulling him in for a kiss.

You pull back “you talk way too much” you smirk he smiles at you and gives you a sweet long passionate kiss.

“I’ve been wanting to do that for so long” he says to you. You smile back at him, so have you. “So do I have to sleep on the couch”

You laugh loudly “ow ow” you say holding your stomach “no you don’t need to sleep on the couch, just don’t make me laugh” you say still smiling

“Okay deal” he says coming closer putting your head on his lap

“I’m so happy you said something. I’ve felt the same way for a while” you say as he plays with your hair

“Good. I’m just happy you felt the same” he says placing a kiss on your forehead.

You smile and drift off to sleep, you’re happy, content, and safe. That’s all you wanted.

****

Well hello it’s been forever!!!

This was requested!

Love feedback and very open to it.

I hope you all enjoy!!! Missed you guys. ❤️❤️

#supernatural imagine #supernatural #sam winchester imagine #sam winchester x y/n #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester smut #supernatural imagines #supernatural smut

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callsigndragon · 1 year

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The Christmas Date | Chapter 6: My Sad Christmas Song

Pairing: Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x Fem!Kerner!Reader

(Ron Kerner is Slider, Iceman’s backseater)

Wordcount: 2.4k

Summary: Y/n “Athena” Kerner and Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw hate each other. Everybody knows. What happens when they have to fake date for a whole week to avoid Iceman and Slider’s matchmaking plans?

(there won't be smut in this series)

Warnings: Solo being obsessed with Thena, ALMOST sexual assault, mentions of naked reader (no descriptions), body shaming, car accident, mentions of blood, injuries, scars, death...

A/N: this chapter wasn't supposed to be like that, but here we are. it's a much needed talk this two need to have before they turn into something else. i'm considering to write down ''emotional rollercoaster' as a trigger warning for this series.

Taglist:@ducks118 @milestellerwife @craftymoonchaos @littlebadariell @xoxabs88xox @alexxavicry @tayrae515 @shrimping-for-all @mak-32 @my-soulmate-is-mycroft @harper1666 @purplevortexx @abaker74 @ssprayberrythings @melllinaa @loveless-simp @k-k0129 @mygyn @castle-bookworms-world @chaoticversion @one-sweet-gubler @loveforaugust

@taytaylala12 @benhardysdrumstickrumstick @diggorycullen @green-intervention @waatermelon-sugaar @smells-like-perfect-senses

(If you want to be added, write in the comments! Those in bold I couldn't tag you)

Previous | Next | Masterlist

Rooster doesn’t enter the room until you go and open the door yourself. It’s the first time you’ve looked at him since the pub.

“Are you gonna stand there all night?”

“I wanted to give you some time alone,” he mutters, looking down.

You feel like an asshole now. “Shit, Rooster… I’m sorry. Please, get in”

“It’s okay. I wouldn’t have expected Grumpy to act any other way”

You roll your eyes. He smiles. It seems like some things never change.

You sit on the bed, waiting for him to get out of the bathroom in his pajamas. It’s hard to understand what has happened. How can someone say those things in front of everyone? How can someone be such a douchebag and act like that in front of your boyfriend? Well, he thinks he’s your boyfriend, and he didn’t seem to care about it.

You don’t want to imagine how he would act if Bradley wasn’t there.

“Hey, you’re sitting on my bed,” Rooster signals to the blanket under your legs.

“Can I ask you for a favor?” he nods, and you inhale deeply. “Can you sleep on the bed? I will put pillows between us, it's just… I-I don't think I can sleep alone tonight."

He sits down next to you, looking at the wall. "Want to talk about it?"

You let out a shaky breath, moving further up the bed. You pull the covers away enough to slip underneath them, and make yourself comfortable. "Come here, and turn the lights off. Please"

You're not sure if you're going to tell him everything, but you sure can't talk about it with the lights on. You don't want to see his face when he judges you.

Following your request, Bradley turns the light switch, sending the room into a comfortable darkness. A faint blue light from the neighbors' Christmas lights keeps it from being completely dark.

"This isn't your side, fly girl" he whispers, standing behind you.

Your heart warms a bit every time he uses that name to address you. Stupid chicken, he needs to stop.

You move to the other side, and he occupies your previous position in the blink of an eye, tossing a bit, trying to find the perfect posture. Your mind is going through all your history with Solo, carefully deciding which things you can share with Rooster.

"You don't need to tell me anything if you don't want to" he states, probably having seen your troubled expression.

You shake your head slightly. "You need to know. You almost got into a fight because of me"

He scoffs. "I've been wanting to punch that idiot since the last day we saw him at the base"

You lay on your back, your eyes fixed on the white ceiling above you. "We dated for a month" you finally confess, after seconds of silence. "He had been flirting with me for weeks, he was really nice, and... I thought he had a cute smile. So I gave him a chance."

You tell him how easily Solo made you fall for him. How he seemed to know what to do and when to do it. The perfect words in the perfect moments. You never thought too much about it; why would you? He was like the perfect guy. He listened to you, he brought you flowers on your dates, and he even remembered your coffee order. He was what every girl looked for.

Until it wasn't.

As the song goes, he was a nightmare dressed like a daydream.

He didn't listen to you because he cared. Solo was obsessed. He listened carefully to learn everything about you. That's why he knew which flowers were your favorites. Your coffee order. Your favorite food.

Your size.

Your address.

You thought him getting you a dress in the right size was pure coincidence. But you never invited him to your house or told him where you lived. You've never been more scared in your life.

"Did he go to your house?" Rooster asks.

You shake your head. "I think he tried to come one night, but he saw Phoenix's car and left"

"How do you know it was him? I'm not doubting you, just asking"

"My favorite flowers were on the door"

"Fucking bastard" he mutters. "Did he ever do something to you?"

You open your mouth a few times to speak, closing it soon after as no sounds come out of it. It feels like the lump of emotions in your throat is getting bigger and is choking you with a strong grip. You want to tell him; you want to tell anyone, but it's so hard to talk about it.

"Hey," he whispers, his finger whipping away a stray tear that fell from the corner of your eye to your temple. He must have been paying so much attention to you to see that small tear in the dimly lit room. "It's okay if I hug you?"

He waits until you nod and brings you closer to him and the warmth of his body. "I'm sorry."

"Y/n, don't. You have nothing to be sorry about. Try to sleep a little, okay? I'll be here. Nobody will hurt my Grouchy tonight."

You nod, smiling a bit. You think he can't see you, but he's looking at you.

And he does keep looking at you, stroking your hair to help you fall asleep. Having you in his arms is the only thing stopping him from getting into his car and killing that son of a bitch with his bare hands.

When you wake up the next morning, you are still in Rooster’s arms. It has been the first night without nightmares in a while. You don’t know how to feel about it. Glad? Surprised? Pissed off because the guy you hate is literally the perfect teddy bear? Big. Warm. And he smells like cinnamon.

The first thing you see when you open your eyes is his neck. Well, the scar on his neck, to be more specific. That was the scariest wound of them all. If you close your eyes, you can still see it bleeding.

Your hand moves on its own, your fingertips slowly tracing the mark.

“That tickles,” he whispers, making you jump a bit. You didn’t realize he was awake.

“Sorry”

“It’s okay. Did you sleep well?” You nod, your eyes never leaving the scar. “Good”

Something inside of you doesn’t want to leave the little bubble you two seem to be wrapped in. So you ask him something you’ve been wanting to know since yesterday. “Did you really buy the suit?”

“Yeah. I didn’t want you to go to prom alone” he confesses, but you get the feeling that there’s something more there that he is not telling you.

“Why?” you still don’t understand why someone would do such a thing for you.

He swallows, one of his hands caressing your hair absentmindedly. “I liked you back then. I mean, wasn’t it obvious? I spent more time at your house than with any of my friends”

“Wasn’t it because my dad almost adopted you as his own kid?”

He scoffs. “Is it that hard for you to accept that people can like you?”

You sigh, hugging him closer. “You have no idea”

There’s a moment of silence only filled by your breathing. It’s not awkward, actually. Neither of you has anything else to add, and the comfort of each other’s arms is enough to make you stay in bed for a little while.

“Is it because of him?”

He doesn’t say the name, but you know who he is talking about. “The day I realized he was a creep, well... It was Halloween”

“The Halloween party at that old pub?” he asks, trying to find the memory. “Didn’t you go home early that day?”

“I didn’t want to leave. Solo took me to his house. He said he wanted to... be alone with me” you whisper the last part, not knowing why you’re opening that part of your heart to him. Only Natasha knows about this.

“Did he…?” he doesn’t finish the sentence, and you know that his mind is filled with the worst ideas right now.

“No. He tried, though. He tore up my dress… Then he saw the scar and thought I was horrendous. He called me a monster”

“Thena”

You can’t hear him. “He said nobody would ever want me”

“Thena, stop,” he insists. But it’s too late.

You’re in that living room again, late at night, trying to cover your body with the torn material of your costume. Everyone decided to dress up as their call signs or relate to them in some way. Yours was a good one, you liked it a lot. You never wanted to take it off. It made you feel like a real goddess.

But Solo didn’t ask for your opinion. He didn’t care if you didn’t want to take things to the next level. He didn’t care when you said no. Repeatedly. He didn’t care when you yelled at him to stop. It didn’t matter that you were trained to fight men taller than you. It didn’t matter how many self-defense moves your father and Iceman taught you when you were a teenager.

Your first instinct wasn’t to defend yourself. Your first instinct was to run. But he knew his house better than you, there was no escape.

He only shattered that dress, but it ripped you to pieces.

And then he had the audacity to laugh at that scar on your belly. He pointed at it with his lewd fingers. He called you ugly. Hideous. Repulsive. He said that nobody would ever love you. No one other than him.

You punched him in the throat, not caring how dangerous that was. It could kill him, but you didn’t care. He had killed a part of you that night.

Phoenix didn’t go to the party. She had a cold and decided to stay at home. She lived a few blocks away, you ran to her house, hoping that she wasn’t already asleep.

“Did she open the door?”

“Yes. She stayed up with me all night. Later she drove me to my house, and spent the night with me. That’s when Solo left the flowers at my door.”

"Wait, wasn't it the next day when Iceman kicked Solo out of the squad?” Rooster recalls, finally understanding what the pilot did to be pulled out of a mission like that.

“Nat told him. Iceman wanted to kick him out of the Navy, but there was no physical evidence of what he did, so he kicked him out of the mission. At least, I could be three months away from him”

“Does your father know?”

You shake your head. “Only Phoenix and Iceman know. And you.”

He kisses your head, his hand moving to your face to wipe the tear stain on your cheeks. “I’m sorry I made you be in the same room as him”

“You didn’t know, Roos”

“You won’t have to see him again. I promise”

You thank him in a whisper, somehow relieved to finally tell the story to another person. Phoenix guessed it all by herself. Iceman learned the story through her. You never got the opportunity to get that weight off your chest.

“Try to sleep a bit more; you deserve to rest,” he whispers, moving his face so that he can look you in the eye. It’s the first time that you’ve had those hazel eyes on you since last night. You can see them lit up with rage. He doesn’t need to tell you all the things he would do if he had that man in front of him right now. “And I think that you’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen, fly girl”

“Even with the scar?” you mutter, looking away.

He grabs your chin between his fingers, preventing you from avoiding his eyes. “Specially with the scar”

You want to ask why he is being so nice to you now. Why now, after all of this constant bickering and teasing, after years of pranking him and him returning those pranks ten times worse. What made him change his mind? A part of you doesn’t want to know. You’re never going to admit it out loud, but you have never felt more secure than in this bed, with this stupid chicken that is proving to be more sufferable than you thought.

And it seems like stupidity is contagious because you do something really dumb: you close the gap that separates his neck scar from your lips, pressing a soft kiss to the mark. “This isn’t a reminder of how you almost killed us, Bradley. It’s a reminder that we’re alive. You saved me”

“I drove to your house. Drunk. And you tried to drive me back to mine, but we got into an accident. If I didn’t go there in the first place…” you can hear in his shaky voice how much he needs to close that chapter of his life.

You pull away from his embrace, sitting on the bed and looking at him. “Were you driving?”

“No, but-”

“No buts, nugget. We fell down that hill, the car rolled over several times, and you covered me with your body when you saw we were heading straight for that tree.” You remember him, tired of him blaming himself for something he didn't do.

He seems confused, sitting on the bed, his eyes moving quickly. “Did I do that?”

Now, you're the confused one. “Wait, you don’t remember?”

“Not that part. I tried to save you?” he asks in a whisper, more to himself than to you.

“You broke your arm, but that could have been my head. You saved me”

He wipes a tear from his eye and lets out an airy chuckle. “It’s too early in the morning to fix each other’s traumas, isn’t it?”

“If it makes you stop being all broody, then it’s worth it” you try to joke.

He looks at you, squinting his eyes. “Did you call me nugget?”

“As an insult” you say, trying to dodge the bullet. Did you do that?

“Oh, but I think it is cute. Say it again”

“Never” you retort, laying down again, your back facing his way and pulling the cover over your head.

He moves closer, whispering in your ear. “I’m gonna touch you, if that’s okay” you don’t respond, giving him silent permission to do it. He circles your waist with his arm, pulling you closer. “Don’t even try to deny it, you love my cuddles”

“Shut up, nugget” you snap.

He laughs happily, and you hate that hearing him laugh makes you smile.

You better not fall for him again.

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midnights-dragon · 5 months

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Nightingale's Lament (Azricrow s3 speculation ficlet, 1.8k)

Crowley has to drive Aziraphale somewhere in the Bentley. They aren't talking. The Bentley is not going to stand for that.

I love the forced proximity trope, and by Neil’s ‘they aren’t talking’, it seems that that may be where we’re headed. And so I raise to you, a thought I had while driving and pulled over to write out. Obviously I've just gone completely insane over that one (1) thing Neil Gaimen said, as well as the s3 confirmation, so enjoy this brain-child one-shot that I had WHILE DRIVING and PULLED OVER MY FUCKING CAR to write it on my phone. Comments very appreciaciated for my own sanity as I am sacrificing the studying I should be doing for my final exams tomorrow in order to obsess over these tragic little gay men (gn). [Ao3 link if you'd prefer]

Crowley, as unfortunate as he may find it, had been tasked with driving himself as well as Aziraphale to someplace in Scotland. It's where the Second Coming is meant to happen, eventually, and so they're meant to be scouring out the lay of the land.

He also suspects that it's a ploy from Nina and Maggie, as well as Muriel, to force him and Aziraphale to work together with just the two of them. And to that he says, the three of them underestimate how stubborn he and Aziraphale can be.

Crowley storms from the bookshop (where most of their planning has been taking place, especially since it's conveniently close to the elevator to Heaven, where Aziraphale has to return, sometimes; he hates it, Crowley can tell, not that he would ever care, right?) and, with a sneer that he slips on as a mask to cover the real emotion stretched across his face, he yanks open the door to the backseat.

He tells the angel to sit there, more or less. Not with his words, but rather, with glares out of the corner of his eye beneath his sunglasses that he never takes off; with a flourish of his hand and a wave of dark-painted fingernails in Aziraphale's reddened face; with the way he blocks the passenger's side door with his lean frame, and clearly jabs his thumb towards the back.

You've lost your place at my side, he seems to say, even if he is not talking aloud, even if he does not look at Aziraphale as the angel obeys the silent command and slips into the backseat of the Bentley. He doesn't mean it, not really. What he means to say is, I want you to sit beside me, but I don't know what I would do if you did. What he means to say is, I can't control myself, being so close to you, being alone. What he means to say is, I need to keep up with this not talking, because if I don't, if we don't, then I don't know how I could bear it.

But he doesn't say any of those things, and Aziraphale does not hear them. They aren't talking. Sometimes they'll speak (usually in gestures, rather than words), but even when they do, they aren't looking at each other. They aren't talking.

Crowley gets into the driver's seat and is silent. He says nothing. He throws the car into drive more aggressively than necessary, and almost feels bad about it, but doesn't, when he catches the flash of white that is Aziraphale adjusting himself for Crowley 'going too fast for him' in the rear-view mirror. The demon growls a little, grinding his back teeth together, and then speeds down the streets of Soho until he makes it to a winding back road that will take them to their destination.

They aren't talking. The car is silent.

As it happens, the car does not appreciate that.

As Crowley turns down the road at a speed that is very illegal, the Bentley jolts, and the demon suddenly finds himself unable to pass forty on the speedometer. He blinks, slow and confused, and his eyes are smoldering behind his sunglasses.

"The fuck?" He growls, low and rumbling, and he smacks at the dashboard repeatedly, pressing his foot down all the way as he bares his teeth and hisses at his car. In the backseat, Aziraphale flinches at the sound of the demon's voice — it is raspy and gravelly, almost smoky with how unused it has become, how deadened.

The Bentley hums (cars couldn't sound smug, logically, but it was a very near thing), seemingly unconcerned with Crowley's frustration that is rapidly accelerating into rage, and then begins to softly croon a gentle ballad of a song from the stereo, the peaceful sound of it filling the silence of the car with a song that both Crowley and Aziraphale recognize all too well from countless nights out at the Ritz together.

There was magic abroad in the air There were angels dining at the Ritz And a nightingale sang in Berkeley Square . . .

In the rear-view mirror, behind his sunglasses, Crowley's gaze flits to Aziraphale despite himself — only for a moment, but a moment that says enough. Aziraphale is frozen, and his own eyes are shining brightly with things left unsaid. His eyes — his eyes — his eyes that are violet.

His violet eyes, which yanks Crowley out of whatever stupor he was in. His violet eyes, because he had made his choice, and it wasn't Crowley. His violet eyes, because he was sitting in the backseat for a reason, and they weren't talking, and Aziraphale never even looked at him anymore, which was a relief, honestly, because Crowley didn't know if he could take looking into those goddamn fucking violet eyes for a moment longer.

Crowley slams down hard on the brakes and rips the keys from the ignition, his chest heaving, his hands shaking. A car behind him blares its horn and swerves around him (thanks to a well-placed miracle from Aziraphale, not that Crowley would ever admit it). Crowley flips them the bird, uncaring and angry, and grieving and hurt and not wanting to listen to the goddamn fucking song for a moment longer, not wanting to see Aziraphale's goddamn fucking violet eyes in his fucking rear-view mirror for any second more. He slams his hand down on the dashboard, again and again and again, over and over, his claws digging into the leather, his eyes squeezing shut and a pained, strangled noise clawing its way up his throat as he slams his palm down, again and again and again.

He is grieving, and he is hurting, and he is angry.

Behind him, Aziraphale is looking away, his goddamn fucking violet eyes welled up with tears not unsimilar to the ones in Crowley's serpentine gaze, white sclera swallowed up by yellow. Aziraphale is looking away, and he is not talking, because he never looks at Crowley anymore, never talks to Crowley anymore, and Crowley both is grateful to him for it and hates him for it, because he wouldn't be able to bear it, but god, he wants to.

Crowley grieves, and hurts, and rages, and Aziraphale cries silently, and does not speak, does not look — and still, their song continues to play defiantly on.

The streets of town were paved with stars It was such a romantic affair And when you turned and smiled at me A nightingale sang in Berkeley Square . . .

"I'm — I'm — I'm not fucking doing this right now," Crowley snarls at his car, hissing between his teeth, blinking hard and fast and willing the tears culminating and burning at his cheeks to just fucking leave him the fuck alone. The Bentley simply hums her engine (despite the keys being gripped in one of Crowley's hands, decidedly not in the ignition, why the fuck did he make her sentient, again?), and the music becomes impossibly louder, and Crowley thinks he could cry, but he cannot, he must not, because — because he couldn't do that now, he couldn't, couldn't bear it, couldn't take it —

I still remember when you smiled and said Was that a dream or was it true? —

And then, above it all, by some cocktail party effect bullshit, because the car was practically screaming with that fucking song —

"Crowley."

Aziraphale said his name. Aziraphale said his name, and Aziraphale is looking at him, and Aziraphale is talking to him, and Crowley had sworn he wouldn't look back, wouldn't talk back, couldn't and mustn't and every other thing in the goddamn world, but fuck, he couldn't take it.

Crowley's gaze flits back to the rear-view mirror, and he thinks that he might choke when he sees the raw grief in Aziraphale's eyes — his violet eyes, he reminds himself, his violet eyes, but — but he can't bring himself to even care, because it's Aziraphale, and he's looking at him, even though they're both grieving, and angry, and afraid.

"Don't — don't be too angry with her, my dear," Aziraphale whispers, and he's still looking at Crowley, still talking to him, and the words my dear seemed to reverberate around the sudden quietness of the car, because Crowley could hear nothing, see nothing, but Aziraphale, who was looking at him, and talking to him. "Or, erm, try not to, I suppose." Aziraphale was wringing his hands together, and his gaze had gone downcast, but he was still talking. "She's — well, she's only trying to help, after all. Only trying to — to make things good, yes?"

Crowley opens his mouth to speak, and chokes on his words. A horribly strangled noise rasps its way from his throat, and he does look away, then, forcing himself to because he can't bear it, and he rests his forehead against the wheel of his car. He's shaking.

He's so tired.

He's grieving, and he's angry, and he's afraid, and he's so goddamn tired.

"I know," Crowley whispers at last, his voice broken like gravel, shattered like glass. He doesn't bother fighting the small, strangled sound that comes out as a whimper and spills from his trembling lips. "I know."

He leans down, and twists the key back into the ignition.

The engine hums appreciatively, and the song continues to play, looping back from the beginning.

That certain night The night we met There was magic abroad in the air . . .

Crowley lifts his head, lifts his deadened, dull gaze, and allows himself one sinful glance back at Aziraphale. The angel isn't looking at him anymore; he's staring down at his hands, and his violet eyes have welled up with tears that cast a pale sheen and makes them look almost blue, and he looks so tired. He looks like he is, just as Crowley is, grieving, and angry, and hurting, and so, so goddamn tired, in every sense of the word.

Crowley sighs. It's an exhausted, broken sound, and it speaks more than he could say in a thousand words of finest poetry.

"I know," he repeats, and he isn't talking about his car.

And then he leans back, and gently presses down on the gas, and continues to drive with Aziraphale sitting in the backseat, their song playing softly over the stereo. They don't talk to each other, and they don't look at each other. But that one single moment with their song, the acknowledgement of a nightingale, of their nightingale, of what their nightingale represented, even with so few words, it — it meant something.

It meant that perhaps, one day, they would be able to rest. Together. Past their grief, and anger, and fear, and hurt, and exhaustion; finding peace, and home, and love, in each other's arms.

And perhaps, as they rested, a nightingale would sing faintly in the distance. They wouldn't hear it, and nobody would know. But it would be there, all the same.

But for now, they did not speak, and they did not acknowledge anything past the nightingale, and for now — until they could rest with peace, with each other, with their love — that would have to be enough.

I may be right, I may be wrong But I'm perfectly willing to swear That when you turned and smiled at me A nightingale sang in Berkeley Square.

#the beginning of the end #they both just really need to rest #in each others arms #good omens #good omens 3 #good omens s3 #crowley x aziraphale #ficlet #good omens ficlet #crowley fanfic #aziraphale fanfic #ineffable idiots #the bentley #good omens angst #good omens fanfic #good omens fandom

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fangirlingfromdownunder · 1 year

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Future Comfort

Summary - Part 3 in the Comfort series - You comfort Dean after his brother runs away without a word and you become closer for it.

Pairing - Dean Winchester x Reader, Reader x Sam (platonic)

Warnings - none

Word Count: 1,540

Series Masterlist | Masterlist

A/N - G’day guys, I just wanna start by thanking you again for all the likes, reblogs and follows since my last post, I really appreciate it. I hope you like this one too. Let me know if you want part 4, and remember my inbox is always open for requests or even if you just wanna chat. Until next week, enjoy!

An hour later you’re laying on Baby’s hood in Dean’s arms looking up at the stars. You told him everything Sam said and tried to help him understand. He promised to trust Sam and not hunt down the kitsune.

“Did you mean what you said earlier? You’re not ready to stop hunting yet? ‘Cause if you want out we can find a way.”

“Dean, I meant every word I said. I’m in this with you and Sam until the bitter end. Unless of course, you knock me up…or-”

“Do you want me to?”

“Do I want a family with you? Of course, Dean.”

“Are you sure? I mean, we can get in the backseat right now and start trying?”

“As amazing as that sounds, handsome, I-I...” You run your hand over your stomach instinctively.

“I get it. All I’m trying to say is … For you I’d do anything. I’ll get a job in my other family business; I’ll open a garage, we can get married and get a mortgage and have 2.5 kids. I want all of that with you. I never thought I would, but I do.” Dean sits up, bringing you with him before sliding off the hood. “I know you literally just said you’re not ready for a family yet, and earlier today I didn’t even believe that I could give you any kind of future but …”

“Dean?” You shake your head at him and cover your mouth with your hands as he falls down onto one knee while reaching into his back pocket.

“I was walking around town today and I just kept thinking about you and what you said about it all being possible. And then I stumbled into a jewellery store and I couldn’t help imagining how good this,” he says pulling out a red velvet ring box, “would look on you. So, Y/F/N Y/L/N will you marry me?”

As he opens the box you slide off the car and onto the ground, hugging him tightly. You kiss his lips, sliding your hands through his hair and around his neck.

When you pull apart for air Dean says, “is that a yes?”

“The biggest yes ever! Of course, I’ll marry you, Dean! I can’t imagine my life without you, ever.”

“You treat my brother like my own, and you look after me every day, you got me to go on a goddamn plane. No one’s ever been able to provide me the comfort that you do, or cared for Sammy as you do. I couldn’t ask for a better girlfriend or fiancé. And I know that being with me puts a target on your back, but I promise I will always do everything I can to protect you.”

“I know you will, baby. I love you so much. And as far as caring for you and Sam goes, I do it because I want to, because I love both of you in your own ways. Sam is like a brother to me and you, well you’re everything. You’re the closest thing I’ve had to a family in a very long time, and I always care for my family.”

“That right there, all of that! That’s why I love you, well apart from the fact that you’re incredibly sexy, a badass Hunter and are absolutely magic in the bedroom,” he says with a wink.

You playfully punch him in the arm and then say, “as are you Dean Winchester, as are you.”

“The offer still stands for the backseat by the way, that offer always stands.”

“As much as I want to take you up on that offer, I really do,” you say as Dean starts peppering kisses down your neck, “we should go back and check on Sam.”

Dean groans and pulls back, “I hate that you’re right. You sure I can’t persuade you to change your mind.”

“Come on, fiancé. Let’s go back to the motel, talk to Sam and then get some sleep,” you say, unwrapping yourself from his embrace and standing up. You hold your hands out to help him up, but instead, he slips the simple sterling silver and zircon ring on your left ring finger. Once the ring is in position he takes your hand and stands up.

“You know it’s gonna be ages before we get any time without Sam around…” he says. You shake your head at him and walk around to the front passenger seat.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

When you get back to the motel Sam is laying down on the couch reading through a lore book. Dean looks at the bed sceptically, no doubt thinking about Sam and the kitsune and how he caught them this morning.

Catching him out of the corner of his eye, Sam says, “I’m not apologising for what happened in my motel room or bed. If you’re so grossed out, feel free to sleep in the car. Otherwise, you two are free to have the bed and I’ll stay here.”

Dean doesn’t say a word and just walks into the bathroom.

“He’s a little pent up and frustrated with me, don’t mind him,” you say as you sit on the end of the bed. Sam turns around to look at you and he catches the shimmer of the dim lights off the new addition to your left hand.

“Congratulations. So you told him, I take it?”

“Thanks, but I told you, there’s nothing to tell. It’s just a feeling, no proof and literally no way that it can happen.”

“Whatever you say, but when you start feeling sick or eating weird food combos, I reserve the right-”

“So, anyway, I got Dean to agree not to hunt down the kitsune. We’re gonna trust you, but if it ever happens again then you have to loop us in. But, you saw the ring, so things may change a little. I think Dean and I may take some time out for ourselves soon unless something comes up and you need us of course. But if you can find a way out of this life too, you need to take it.”

“You know there aren’t many girls like you around … huntresses that understand the life and everything we’ve been through. I don’t think I can be with anything less now. But don’t let that stop you from getting out. You and Dean deserve to be happy and have a normal life.”

Dean comes out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped low on his hips, you can’t help but check him out as he grabs a pair of grey sweats and a black tee and slips back into the bathroom. As soon as Dean comes back out you slip in, with one of his flannels and your underwear in one hand. You peck his cheek as you pass.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

It’s just after 3 am when you hear rustling from the small motel kitchen. You feel Dean’s soft breath on the back of your neck and a heavy arm around your waist so you figure it’s Sam who still can’t sleep. He was up researching something on his laptop when you and Dean laid down together a few hours ago, you figured he wouldn’t be up long, but you were obviously wrong. You carefully slip out of Dean’s embrace causing him to roll over. You grab yourself a bottle of water from the fridge before joining Sam at the small table.

“Can’t sleep?” you ask him.

“You’d think by now I’d be used to all the nightmares, but some nights they just-”

“I get them too, I get it. For me, Dean has helped a lot, just feeling his arms around me … I know I’m not alone. I really hope you find someone that can do that for you, but until then you have us. You know you’re the most important person in his life, and you’re like a brother to me. If there’s anything I can do-”

“Thanks, Y/N. You’re like a sister to me too. But I wouldn’t be so sure I’m the most important person in his life anymore. Sure, he cares but-”

“You know how we got here, Sam? We flew, I may not have known until this morning, but I figure you know how he feels about planes, but he got on one to come find you.”

“Because he had you by his side. I guarantee that without you he would’ve wired a car.”

“That particular conversation may have come up … but anyway, the point is we’re here and we both care about you,” you say as you get up and round the table to hug him.

You look back over to your sleeping boyfriend seeing him starting to toss and turn, “try to get some sleep tonight, okay Sam? Even if it’s just a couple of hours. And remember you’re not alone and your nightmares can’t hurt you.”

“Thanks again, Y/N. Good night.”

You pat Sam on the shoulder and make your way back to bed. You snuggle up next to Dean, wrapping your arms around him and making him stop moving around. His hand instinctively grabs yours and you drift off to sleep.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

#dean winchester x reader #dean x you #dean winchester #supernatural #spn #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester imagine #dean winchester fic #dean winchester fluff

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save-the-villainous-cat · 2 years

Note

Could you PLEASE continue the wounded hero in the rainy alley and villain, I need to know if they make it in time! I really loved it!

pt 1

The villain dropped to their knees. They had, indeed, needed eight painful minutes to get to the hero. In the distance, the hero could hear the sirens of police cars and in all their panic, they imagined them to be after the villain.

Their enemy didn’t waste any time. The first thing they did was taking off their jacket. They threw it around the hero’s shoulders and covered their head with the hood.

Then, they took the hero’s hand. For the rest of their life, the hero would never feel anything like this. Gentleness beyond compare. They wanted to melt into it. They wanted to forget about the pain and have the villain touch them, hug them.

Everything the villain did, seemed to happen in slow motion. Their actions took lifetimes to manifest. It seemed endless to the hero. Until, the villain picked them up and carried them to their car.

“You have a thing for trouble, hm?” the villain said. The pain numbed pretty much everything. The hero didn’t analyse how the villain was saying anything. Detecting their mood seemed impossible. At least, the villain was gentle as they lay them down onto their backseats.

“Missed you…” the hero slurred. “Missed you so much.”

“I know, baby.” Although the hero had trouble understanding the villain because of the droplets banging mercilessly on the car, they understood the pet name. If it had been another situation, maybe they would’ve blushed.

The villain followed quickly, closed the door and sat down on the hero’s hips.

Eventually, the villain’s hands fumbled on the coat they’d given their hero and started to undress them slowly. Once they’d reached the suit which was drenched in blood and rain, their fingers stopped. Their hesitation was mixed with panic, that much the hero could identify on their face.

“I need to take off your clothes, okay?”

“Yeah…” the hero answered, suppressing a moan. They bit their lip, fighting the urge to move their hips.

This pain was worse than anything they’d ever experienced. Reluctantly, the hero’s brain yearned for death. It wanted to give up completely.

That was until they felt the villain’s hand under their head, their thumb on their cheek.

“Drink this, it helps with the pain.” Managing a nod, the hero brought their lips to the bottle and started to drink. It felt like drinking fire — maybe they were — and the hero instinctively wanted to spit it out. As they came up to puke, the villain pushed them back down into the seats with their hand on the hero’s chest.

“Fuck…” the hero mumbled.

“Swallow. It will help. I know it hurts.” The hero did as they were told and swallowed the burning drink. They’d tasted similar to the painkillers they had at home.

Just much worse.

When the hero stared down at themselves, they discovered that their upper body was exposed. The villain had held their promise.

“Shit…” the villain mumbled, their thumb rubbing over the hero’s skin right above their hip. “I gotta stitch that. But I have to take out the bullet first…”

The villain frowned, thinking.

And the hero took their hand, squeezing it.

“I’m so happy you’re here,” the hero mumbled as their eyelids got heavy. The villain’s serious face broke and they smiled at their nemesis for a second.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got you.”

#these kids 🙄 always getting in trouble #writing snippet #heroxvillain prompt #heroxvillain snippet #heroes and villains #hero #villain #hero x villain #heroxvillain #an answer for an ask #request #h/c #angst

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scaryscarecrows · 3 months

Note

Any hurt/comfort fic in your scaryverse?

Loads. The below is 'Where Do You Think You're Going?' from Why Do They Kick Me?, but there are others in that collection and scattered throughout both volumes of Cigarette Smoke & Snark.

The rain’s coming down in sheets and Dove hates it, especially here, where there’s a crap-ton of ‘hitchhikers may be escaping inmates!’ signs.

She’ll be home soon, all done and over from delivering some handsomely-paid-for evidence that while the Riddler may be a criminal, he didn’t commit that crime and therefore is unlawfully detained in Arkham. He’ll be out by tomorrow and probably right back in on Tuesday, because Batman, but whatever, he’ll have a week. Maybe.

She kinda wishes she’d taken up Charlie’s offer to come with her, but it hadn’t been raining then. And it hadn’t been meant to take this long.

Between the rain and the darkness, she has no warning whatsoever before there’s a flash of color in her headlights. She hits the brakes and is like…eighty percent…sure she doesn’t hit them, but if it’s an inmate and they find out she didn’t stop, she’s screwed.

She rolls down the window. A bit. Sees nothing, and opens the car door, leans out and remembers too late that her umbrella’s in the backseat.

Oh, well.

The rain’s coming down in icy daggers and she knows it’s going to turn into snow later. She doesn’t see any color, at first, and figures maybe it was nothing-a misplaced jack-in-the-box, maybe-when she finally spots another flash of yellow on the side of the road.

It’s barely yellow, more grungy brown and now muddy to boot, but it’s there and it only takes a few seconds to register it as Robin-yellow.

“Oh, my God,” she breathes, sloshes through the mud and prays to anyone listening that she didn’t just kill Batman’s missing kid. “Oh, my God…c’mon, Robin, wake up…Jesus Christ, please don’t be dead…”

She didn’t kill him, anyway. She can hear him wheezing from here and when she gets closer he stirs, forces himself onto his back and tries to crawl away before going still, eyes closed and arms curled over his head.

“Fuck.” She crouches down. Partly it’s dark, partly it’s raining and partly he’s a muddy (bloody) mess, but she can’t make out what could be broken, ripped open…nothing. His limbs are all there, that’s the best she’s got. “Fuck, kid, okay…”

No way Joker let him go. No way. Dove knows he’ll come looking, if he isn’t already. She can’t just leave him here, the clown’ll be furious, he’ll kill him.

“Okay, Robin, okay, it’s gonna be okay, I’m gonna get ya somewhere safe, huh?”

She gets her hands under his arms and he jerks his head, coughs and whimpers, “Please don’t do it again.”

Jesus Christ--what was that?

She doesn’t know what idiot insisted on letting the woods around Arkham grow this wild. Crane may have been crazy and evil, but she’ll give him credit, the few escapees he had during his tenure were caught and dealt with very, very quickly, in no small part due to the lack of fucking trees. But whoever’s in charge now (they rotate so quickly…) either doesn’t have the budget or just doesn’t care, because they’re dense and dark and there could be anybody in them.

But right now, she doesn’t see anyone. She thought that was movement, but she was apparently mistaken. Or someone else is escaping, someone who just wants to get moving.

Not my circus, not my monkeys.

Robin’s shaking in her arms, hands clawing weakly at hers, and it doesn’t matter. They gotta go.

“Shh, shh, baby,” she soothes. “You’re gonna be okay. Think you can stand up?”

“Please, m’sorry…”

Probably not, then.

The mud is probably the best thing that could exist right now: it makes dragging him to the car a lot easier than it should be. She’ll worry about the upholstery later. For now, she’s good to lay the seat down and cover him with her coat before cranking the heater and flooring it.

And hope to God that flash of white out of the corner of her eye was an orderly.

* * *

Robin spends most of the ride either unconscious or otherwise unresponsive, but he perks up a bit when they hit midtown. Well. It’s all relative; he burrows into her coat and opens his eyes, anyway. Doesn’t react when she tries to talk to him, though. Just sits there, face tight and resigned.

Hospitals are out of the question. It’s easy, ridiculously easy, to get in there; murder a nurse and pop right in. Richardson does it all the time. She’ll call Jim, when she gets home, get him to get Batman and that shouldn’t take long at all. It’s safer. He got out of…of wherever he was (Arkham?), he can hold on until Batman can come and get him.

He’s capable of getting up, of letting her half-carry him into her apartment’s elevator, but he ends up on his knees before they’ve even hit the second floor.

Here, in the harsh lights, he looks awful; bloody and bruised and scared. He’s favoring his left ankle, trying to keep it away from the rest of his body, and Dove does not wanna know.

His head’s slumped towards his chest and when she reaches down to lift it, see if he’s drugged, he flinches and whispers, “Please don’t hurt me, m’sorry, I won’t run again.”

“No, no, honey.” Maybe drugged, or maybe just sick; his skin’s burning under her fingers. His eyes are glazed over, pupils blown wide, and she doesn’t think he’s seeing her. “I’m not gonna hurt you, I’m gonna get you cleaned up a bit, try to get you home, huh?”

He doesn’t seem to understand.

“M’sorry,” he whispers again, a few tears carving tracks through the blood and dirt on his cheeks before hitting her palm, and she lets him go, watches the floor count go up. He wobbles a bit, fingers tensing against the carpet, and she’s not sure if she should try to steady him or not. She’s gonna go with not; they’re almost there and so far he hasn’t put up a fight.

She’d like to keep it that way.

Whatever’s up with his ankle, he gets to his feet when she tugs on his arms, shuffles down the hall with her and manages to stay semi-upright while she gets her door open.

“Okay, kid, okay.” There. Door’s locked again, deadbolt ‘n all. “Let’s just…shower. C’mon, just a few feet, that’s all.”

She doesn’t even try to get his costume off, not now, not like this. It’s easier to just half-help, half-haul him into the bathtub and let him sink down, trembling and clearly trying not to cry.

The warm water makes him jump, at first, but he stays still after that, fingers knotted under his knees. The gunk that comes off him is reddish-brown and after a few minutes she can make out marks from barbed wire, and gashes in his uniform. He’s still and silent, gazing blankly at the rubber bath mat under him, and only flinches once when the water hits what turns out to be a ragged slash near his inner elbow.

“M’sorry.”

“Shh, don’t be sorry, sweetheart, there’s nothing to be sorry for.”

He’s quiet, after that, and she resolutely does not think about Joker’s ‘conditioning’ methods.

Once he’s sodden, she shuts the water off and nudges his head up, rubs a warm washcloth across his face. He sits there and lets her, doesn’t even try to struggle, and honestly…honestly, it’s unsettling. What happened to the boy that straight-up asked Penguin about the bottle in his eye socket?

“Okay, baby,” she murmurs, thumb rubbing dried blood off his cheekbone. “Okay, there we go… there you are.”

Sheesh. He looked bad before. Now? Without the excuse of grime? Those bruises are dark, like Harley’s can be, and the ones just under his jaw look like someone was trying to force something (pills food worse?) down his throat. He looks at her, still blank, before dropping his head back down and trying to hide a shiver.

“I’ll turn the water back on in a minute, but I wanna at least get your cape off, maybe the rest of this, huh?”

That rouses him a little more, makes him try to pull his head away and maybe try to get up, but he’s too unsteady to do much besides wobble.

“No, no—”

“Just to get you cleaned up, you’re a mess.”

He shakes his head but doesn’t fight her when she fumbles for the clasps on his cape. There’s nothing to do with it but toss it in the trash can; Batman wants it, he can come and get it.

She’ll worry about the rest of him later. Right now? Shampoo.

He cringes at the splop-splop noise it makes leaving the bottle and tries to pull his head away from her hands. But not for long-when her fingers dig into his scalp he stills, breath hitching in his throat.

“S’okay, kid, s’okay. Just gonna get some’a this crap off’a you, huh? Just a bit?”

He doesn’t answer her, just plunks his forehead against his knees and starts to cry.

* * *

He protests, once or twice more, when she gets him undressed the rest of the way, but once he’s out of the tub and in a shirt and some old sweats of hers he’s quiet again.

She has no idea what to do with him now. Call Jim, maybe. But first, bed.

Whatever kept him up and moving before-stubbornness, desperation, adrenaline-is spent and he doesn’t even try to help when she pulls him up. Surely he should be heavier than this, it shouldn’t be this easy to drag him around.

But it is this easy, and she’s almost grateful Cobblepot made her help him dump bodies in the river back in Ye Olde Days of his career. Almost.

She gets him tucked up in bed with a mountain of blankets on him and now he comes to life a little, blinking rapidly at the dim lighting and scrubbing his hand across his eyes.

“Where am I?”

Confusion is…an improvement.

“You’re okay, kid.” Well. All things considered. That ankle’s half-broken, not healing right, and even ignoring the cuts and bruises and fuck those are electrical burns what the hell, the rasp to his breathing is probably Really Bad. “You’re safe, you…you nearly got run over, but, y’know…”

More blinking, and that expression that people get when they’re trying to make sense of things. Then, “M-Miss Marquis?”

It’s something!

“Yeah,” she says gently. “Yeah. You’re okay, kiddo, I’m gonna…I dunno, I’ll get a hold of Jim or something and he can call Batman and he’ll come get you.” Robin coughs, tries to lever himself upright and she moves to prop him up. “Okay, honey, okay, there we go…think you can take a drink? That sound good?”

“Mm-mm.” He starts trying to go back down and she lets him, tugs the comforter back up to his chin. “What happened?”

“I don’t know, kiddo. You came outta nowhere.” She wonders where her phone is. “What about somethin’ to eat, huh? Couple’a crackers, maybe?”

“Mm-mm. M’sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry.” Jesus Christ, he’s just a kid, no older than Charlie’s daughter. “Don’t be sorry, hon, you’re okay, you’re gonna be okay. Yeah?”

He just looks at her with wide, shiny eyes and whispers, “He’s gonna come for me.”

“Yeah, yeah, he is, he’ll be here just as soon as he can—”

“No.” He swallows, fingers creeping up to tighten around the edge of the comforter. “Not. Not Batman. J—”

His voice catches in his teeth and he squeezes his eyes shut, bunches the blankets into his arms like a makeshift teddy bear. Outside, the rain turns into hail, slamming against the patio with a determined TAPTAPTAPTAP!

“Shh, shh.” There’s two furrows running down from under his eyes, bruised and ragged. Fingernails, and she can just see those boney fingers, pale and heavy-knuckled, digging in and dragging downwards. “Don’t worry, honey, he won’t come.”

“You don’t believe that.”

Nope.

“Try to sleep, Robin,” she says. “I’m gonna call Jim, okay?”

He doesn’t answer. She goes, gets her phone out of her purse and tries to do exactly what she said she would, but Jim’s phone goes straight to voicemail.

Okay. Harvey, then…no.

No answer.

This might be a little bad. She knows, logically, that there’s plenty of cops who won’t hand the kid back over, but she doesn’t know who they are and she does know, because Harley had mentioned it not three weeks ago, that ‘Mistah J’s got ears all over this town!’

A side effect of watching people’s children sleep, she imagines.

Okay. She’ll try again in a little while. Everything’s fine. It’s Gotham, they’re busy. Maybe Batman’s there!

All the same, she triple-checks the windows, and the door, and kills all the lights before grabbing a water bottle and a box of Wheat Thins and going back in the bedroom. Robin’s not asleep. He’s still half-curled in the blankets, staring at the window with frightened eyes.

“No answer, but he’s probably busy.”

“Maybe.” He doesn’t sound convinced. “I hope so.”

“F’you want, I got these.” She holds up the water and the crackers and he shakes his head. “Try to sleep, hon, there’s probably just been a drugs bust or somethin’.”

“Don’t go.” His voice is barely audible over the hail. “Please. I’ll be quiet, I promise, just…”

“Shh.” She sits down on the other side of the bed. “This okay?”

“Yeah. T’anks.”

“Go to sleep, kiddo. It’ll be okay.”

He yawns and suddenly he’s moved and is now both burritoed in blankets and curled tightly against her side. She doesn’t know how that happened. She blinked, that’s all.

Whatever, it doesn’t matter. If it keeps him calm enough to sleep, he’s fine there. She turns her phone to vibrate and opens up the internet. This is fine. This is going to be fine.

Hopefully.

* * *

Robin doesn’t move from his blanket cocoon even after two hours. Hell, he doesn’t even move in the cocoon; just stays balled up with his head pressed against her side. Even asleep, he doesn’t look calm, not even close, but he does uncoil a little bit when she risks reaching down and pulling a few strands of hair away from his mouth.

Outside, the hail has only grown worse and she hopes the Joker is out in it, because it

might hurt him and the mental image of a giant hailstone smacking him in the mouth is funny.

Neither Jim nor Harvey has called her back and she’s just about to try again when Robin suddenly starts coughing.

“Come on, kiddo, wake up.”

Shaking him makes him scrunch into a ball, arms over his head.

“Please—”

“Robin.” She gives him a little nudge. “Wake up, sweetheart, you gotta sit up.”

He eventually pulls himself up a little, arms falling to cradle his ribs.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry.” She reaches over and picks up the water bottle, cracks the seal and winces when his eyes light up.

“S’safe?”

“Yeah, just water. You gonna try?”

“Uh-huh.” He takes it, clutches it to his chest and drains it in about forty seconds. “T’anks.”

“Sure. You hungry?”

He makes a face and mumbles, “No.”

“Okay. Try to go back to sleep, huh? You don’t look so good.”

He returns to his ball-shape, arms curled in front of his chest, and doesn’t move even when she re-tucks the comforter around him. She’s just about to text Jim instead when the phone lights up. There. All better.

“Hey, glad you got back to me.”

“What’s going on?”

“You need to send Batman to my apartment. I…I sort of nearly hit Robin with my car.”

“What?” There’s the sound of running feet in the background. “Where?”

“Not too far from Arkham. He’s…I didn’t hit him, anyway, but—”

“Shit.” A car door slamming. “Shit, Dove, you need to get outta there.”

“What’s going on?”

“I’m just leaving Arkham, the Joker’s God-knows-where, he murdered his way out not three hours ago.”

Well, shit.

Robin stretches out a teeny tiny bit and presses his head against her hip with a soft sigh. He’s not hearing this, then, he’s gonna calm down, he’s gonna sleep.

And that’s fine.

She ruffles his hair, still damp and warm and just covering a couple of contusions around his ears. Joker doesn’t know where she lives, she’s mostly sure, they’ve got a window before he tracks her down--

--but that flash of white, earlier.

Oh, my God.

He could be anywhere. Could be hitchhiking, could be on the roof, could not even care. He’s unpredictable enough that he might not care, but Dove doubts it.

“Get Batman here,” is all she says. “Door’s locked, windows are locked and we’re up high anyway. The kid’s hurt and he’s sick, I don’t even know if he can walk.”

“Hrm?”

“Shh.” She presses the phone to her shoulder. “Jim just wants to meet us at the precinct, you’re not up for that. That’s all.”

“Oh.” A yawn, a wet cough and a groan of pain. “T’anks.”

“Mm-hm. We’ll see you soon, okay, Jim?”

“But—”

She hangs up on him. Robin burrows under the blankets a little more and mumbles, “I didn’t think I’d ever…I don’t even know how long I was there.”

A month and a half since Batman shattered a window, dangled Cobblepot over Main Street and demanded information he didn’t have. If Robin was missing before that, Dove doesn’t know.

“Couple'a months.” Too long. “Do you remember how you got out?”

“Th-there was a doctor. He brought her down to look at me because I couldn’t. He’d.” He swallows and tries again. “I can’t scream without coughing, an’ ‘e wanted to fix me. Said I was boring like this.” That’s not surprising. “He kidnapped her or somethin’, I don’t know, but she had to lemme go to look at me better an’ I just headbutted her and ran for it an’ she’s prob’ly dead cause’a me an’—”

“Shh, shh, baby.” She’d be dead anyway, so she wouldn’t tell. “It’s not your fault, honey, it’s not your fault.”

“Yes it is—”

“Robin.” She makes him lift his head and look at her. “It’s not your fault. Listen to me, okay? It’s not your fault. It’s not.”

Next thing she knows, she’s got an armful of shivering kid and he’s sobbing into her shirt.

“M’sorry, m’sorry—”

“Shh, shh, shh.” Um. This isn’t. This is bad, what is she supposed to say, what the hell. “It’s not your fault.”

“Mm—”

“Just try to calm down, okay? Breathe with me here, c’mon.”

That’s a little difficult, what with the coughing and all, but eventually he manages to calm down, at least a bit.

“M’sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, kid. Don’t. Okay? C’mon, just lie back down—”

He shakes his head and tightens his grip and whispers, “Please.”

She’s not heartless, okay? She tried, because good employees are heartless, but she’s shit at it and the only reason Penguin keeps her is because by the time he figured it out, she had his backup e-mail passwords.

“Okay. Okay, kiddo, okay.” She moves so she’s propped against the headboard and he’s not about to knock her over and pulls the comforter up to wrap around his shoulders. “Okay, honey, you’re okay. It’s over. It’s over.” Well, providing the Joker doesn’t come knocking on the door, but he doesn’t need to know that. “Just try to sleep, okay, Robin? It’s all over.”

“You promise?”

Uh, sure?

“Yeah, I promise.”

“’Kay.” He yawns. “Night.”

It takes him about fifteen minutes to finally conk out, but conk out he does, still shivering in the blanket. Dove kind of wants a sign to inform any rampaging Batmen that he put himself here, that she hasn’t hurt him, so please don’t fly in and kick her in the side of the head or anything.

Hopefully someone gets here soon.

* * *

She’s startled out of an accidental sleep by a knock on the door. Jim, must be Jim. Or Harvey. Whoever.

Another knock. Okay, okay, hang on.

She moves the kid so he’s half-propped on pillows to help him breathe and stands up, grimacing at the pop-pop! from her knees. Ow. Ow, she regrets her life choices.

“Hrm…?”

“Shh, I’ll be right back.”

But he’s already awake, eyes alert and locked on the direction of the front door.

“Who is it?”

“Probably Jim. I’ll be right back, okay? He can carry you if he really wants you at the precinct.”

“’Kay.”

More knocking. Good God, Jim, give her a…damned…minute?

Jim does not have green hair. Green hair like the hair visible through the peephole. Green hair on a white face.

Shit.

She’s not home, is her first instinct. She’s not home, she’s at work or on an errand or some other non-home activity. Robin? Who’s that? Ain’t that a bird?

She’s about to run with that, tiptoe back to her bedroom and barricade the door and hope to God that he’ll go away, when the knob rattles and he sings out, “Yoo-hoo! Anybody hoooome? I seem to have lost my dear pet bird!”

Okay. Okay. Maybe she can get him to go away. She’s…interacted with him, a few times, at the Iceberg, and he’s always been civil. Careful wording is her one great skill, and it might work now.

Or at least buy her some time. Better, she thinks, to try and get this to go her way rather than have him break in.

She fumbles around until she comes up with the butcher knife she keeps by the door for emergencies, triple-checks the chain latch, and cracks the door.

“Hello?”

People forget, sometimes, that the Joker is a tall man. He rivals Crane, easy, but while Crane is unassuming until he wants you to look at him, the Joker is impossible to ignore. Especially up close. That grin of his is cheerful from a distance, even just from behind a bar, but now? Now it’s manic and angry, a chimp’s smile.

“Helloooo!” But his voice is always cheerful…up until he’s mad. “My bel-ooo-ved songbird flew away from me this evening!” His hands are still in his pockets. That means nothing. Nasty things can be found in the Joker’s pockets. “Have you seen him? I’m soooo worried.”

She’ll bet. Batman’s going to be furious when he sees the state of the kid.

“I haven’t seen anything,” she says, fakes a yawn. “I just got home a little bit ago, went to bed.”

The teeth glint. An elbow twitches. And then he moves, upper body lunging forward like a snake’s and a hand jamming in between the crack of the door, fingers scrambling for the chain. She throws her weight against it, slams it against his arm, and he curses at her, those purple fingers abandoning the chain in favor of her neck.

She remembers the knife. It’s heavy and clumsy in her hand, but she slashes at him anyway, tip gouging a chunk of flesh out of the back of his hand before he yanks said hand back and the door slams shut. She throws the deadbolt and rushes to the kitchen, snags a dining chair and wedges it under the knob. Outside, there’s nothing but silence.

Door as secured as it can be, she grabs another chair and retreats to the bedroom, barricades that door too. Robin’s sitting up, hands twisted into knots in his lap.

“He’s here.” God, he’s so resigned already. “He came.”

She hates to scare him, but it was impossible to miss that ruckus.

“Yeah.”

He tries to get up and can’t, ends up desperately muffling his coughs in a pillow.

“I’ll go. Just. Just can I have s-some pills o-or something, I can’t do this again, I can’t—”

“Shh, shh.” It’s quiet out there. That can’t be good. “Don’t be silly, it’s gonna be fine. Batman’ll be here any minute.”

He’s silent after that, eyes glued to the door. Dove rifles through her dresser until she comes up with the pistol she always carries at work and sometimes carries the rest of the time, checks the bullet count. Fully loaded. Six shots. No more security deposit, but hey…

She doesn’t notice, at first, the movement outside. The hail is still pounding down, after all. But then there’s a rhythmic shave-and-a-hair-cut-two-bits! against the glass.

She’ll tell the police, later, that he had a tommy gun and looked like he was going to shoot through the glass. She has no idea if that’s true; all she can think of are all those people who laughed themselves literally to death, and that like hell is she gonna be one of them.

Six shots. The first two break the glass but don’t hit him, but the next four do, driving him backwards and--

--over. Down. Gone.

Not even one last cackle. Just a pair of fallen novelty teeth on the cement, getting knocked around by the hail.

Said hail is now trying to come in, and she wraps Robin in the comforter, guides him to the living room to lie down on the couch and locks her bedroom door, just in case. The kid’s staring at her when she comes back, shiny-eyed and a little awed.

“He’s gone?”

The fucker lives through everything.

“I think so, kid,” she says tiredly. “I think so.”

* * *

Nightwing’s the one that comes, at least at first. She’s surprised to see him; last she heard, he was over in Bludhaven, making a nuisance of himself.

“Nightwing.” God, it’s been so long since he did handstands on Penguin’s Very Expensive Barstools. He’s gotten so big. “Been a while, kid.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I guess so.” He crouches down, hand half-reaching towards the kid in her arms. “Jesus Christ…”

“He’s sick,” she warns. “I think broken ribs, definitely broken ankle. Lotta cuts ‘n bruises.”

“Better than the alternative.” His fingers drop against Robin’s spine. “I thought…Little Wing? C’mon, buddy, wake up. Time to go home.”

Robin doesn’t stir other than to burrow deeper into the blanket and murmur something unintelligible. Nightwing doesn’t push, just lets his hand fall flat between the boy’s shoulders.

“Where was he?”

“I found him outside of Arkham. Nearly hit him, to be honest.” She gives him a little shake. “Wake up, sweetheart, Nightwing’s here to take you home.”

“Hrm…’Wing?”

Nightwing grins, relief clear on his face.

“Hey, brat. You awake?”

“Wh’re’s B?”

“On his way.” Sure enough, there’s a VROOM! a block or two over. “You ready to go home?”

“Sleepy.”

“I know. I’m gonna pick you up, please don’t bite me.”

“Once,” Robin grumbles, but he doesn’t protest when Nightwing hoists him up, arms tight, and cradles him against his chest.

“I gotcha, buddy, I gotcha…Thanks, Miss Marquis. For, um. Y’know. Everything.”

She stands up, feeling things snap and crackle.

“Take him home. And be safe, both of you. I mean it.”

“T’anks,” Robin squirms a bit, one hand falling towards the floor. She gives him a smile, stands up and cracks her spine.

“Feel better sweetheart.”

He nestles against Nightwing, and then they’re gone. Jim gets up there five minutes later, wide-eyed, and says, “Holy shit, Dove, what did you do? ”

Penguin does this all the time. She’s seen him do it. She shrugs, sinks back to the couch, and says, “He would’ve killed us both if I let him in. I thought he had a gun.”

Not that he needed one, as many an Arkham guard’s obituary can attest.

“Jesus Christ.”

Yeah. Jesus Christ, indeed.

THE END

#asks #jason todd #fic below cut #dove marquis #joker #arkhamverse #scaryverse #the above is an au for arkham but rocksteady wouldn't give me nice things so I DID IT MYSELF

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mikedfaist · 21 days

Note

Do you write Dodge x Reader? If yes, could you write one where Reader gets hurt during a Panic challenge and Dodge helps her?

DODGE, MY BOY.

I first want to apologize because it has been several sleeps since I’ve watched Panic completely through, so I don’t remember all the details, but I will try. So, this would happen when they have to break and enter into that one man’s house and steal something. If you want a little recap of their relationship, you can read this.

Her and Dodge are a team. If it’s not a solo challenge, he will be by your side. So, I imagine the two of you found something to take, and as you’re escaping through a window, that’s when you hear the first gunshot. You two freeze, but Dodge is quick to push you along. You’re out the window first and running through the cornfield when you hear a second shot. You stop in your tracks when you notice Dodge isn’t behind you, and the only thing you can hear is the sound of the man yelling.

You don’t want to think about it; you’re shaking your head in disbelief and begin to run back to the house when a third shot echoes through the air, and you feel the pain rupture into your leg. You scream out, falling down into the grass, clutching your thigh. You can hear your name being called out, and there’s a rustle by your head where Dodge crawls out from the stalks forward you.

“Fuck—fuck, fuck.” He presses down on the wound, which only sends waves of pain through your entire leg. “I’m sorry—fuck…”

“He got me.” You lay down, covering your face with your arms, as Dodge removes his shirt to make a tourniquet.

“I know, baby.” His voice cracks. “I think it just grazed you but…I don’t know, it looks deep.”

“It hurts,” You wince out, choking back tears. “Make it stop.”

Dodge feels defeated. Can he even take you to the hospital without stirring questions about a gunshot wound, and not mention Panic?

“Come on,” He bites his lip. “We’ll get you taken care of.”

His mom.

He carries you back to his car and lays you down in the backseat. “Hold tight for me, okay? We’ll be there soon.”

Dodge squeezes your hand and jumps into the front seat. The pain is subtitling into a rooted throb, and you raise your head to speak.

“Dodge…it’s not hurting so bad now.”

“Might be the adrenaline…or shock, I don’t know. We’re almost there.”

When they arrive at his house, his mom’s care is thankfully still seated in the driveway.

“My mom’s going to take care of this, okay?” He bends down to pick you back up in his arms. “It’ll be over soon, just trust me, okay?”

When he enters the house, his mom shoots up from the sofa. He tries to explain what happened, but he can’t quite focus on anything but the sound of your whimpers.

“I need to cut your jeans off, sweetie. Need to see what all happened.” She’s always been so gentle with you. She cuts a long strip from the ankle to your thigh, exposing the wound, confirming Dodge’s suspicions. “Okay, it was just a graze, which is good. Still nasty though.”

You lay down on the kitchen floor, Dodge sitting up by your head.

“Okay, honey, we need to clean it out… Dodge, can you grab a towel for me?” She takes a wet paper towel and gently cleans off blood around the wound. “Okay, hon, I need you to bite down on this, okay?” She holds the towel to you, and you stare back at it in bewilderment. “I need to clean it, so it doesn’t get infected, okay? It’s going to hurt.”

More than it already is?

“Dodge,” She warns, signaling to hold me down. “Okay, hon, one-two-three—”

It pierced through you, your screams grating your throat as you bit down on the towel. Dodge held you in his lap, one arm wrapped around your front to keep you still. Your eyes burned with tears as she scrubbed away at the wound, the pain nearly pummeling you.

“You’re doing so good, baby.” Dodge leans down to whisper to you, taking your hand into his. “She’s almost done.”

“I’m sorry, honey,” She stresses, “Any little bit of debris can cause an infection… Just need to make sure it’s all out.”

“What the fuck is this?” Dayna declares, appalled.

“Not now—”

“No, actually, what the fuck? What happened?—”

“She got hurt doing a challenge—it’s okay—” Dodge meets his sister’s piercing gaze from across the kitchen.

“She’s literally bleeding all over the floor—it’s not okay! Take her to the hospital!”

“We—” Dodge bites his tongue. The one place he wishes he could take you right now, he fears would result in the end of the game. “You know we can’t, Dayna—they’ll ask questions—"

“At what point is it worth it? Your girlfriend is hurt, Dodge. Is the money really worth her not getting actual help?”

And he knows it.

“I’m going to wrap it up, okay, hon?” She presses a towel back down on the wound; you wince instinctively. “Dodge, grab the dressing from the first aid kit.”

You pull the towel from your mouth, your hairline littered with beads of sweat. The worst is over, you think. You stay the night with Dodge that night, his mom coming in to check on you every so often. Dodge carries the guilt heavily on his chest, wishing he would have chosen differently. How could he ever choose the game over your wellbeing? Was the money really that important to him, that the moment your safety is on the line, he still tries to protect everyone else?

#mike faist #dodge mason #dodge x reader #dodge talk #panic amazon #panic show #mike faist imagine #i rushed that ending #my apologies #also his mom may not be a nurse but i made her one #good for her #jack of all trades #just don't tell the sheriff

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jacksdinonuggets · 1 month

Text

Lost And Found Chapter 4

Vaggie's injuries haven't been healing well and has gotten infected. Carmilla has to take her to the hospital. tw: mentions of suicide and mental hospitals.

A couple of weeks had passed since Carmilla claimed Vaggie as her daughter. When she had aged back up sometime during these weeks, she was extremely apologetic and embarrassed. She felt ashamed for having to use that coping mechanism but Carmilla told her it was okay. What did worry her was that she wanted to do all the wound cleaning and bandaging by herself. When Carmilla asked if she knew how to do it, she quickly said yes and sprinted off.

Ever since vaggie did her own stuff, she seemed to stop healing and was going backwards. Carmilla noticed how she struggled to walk, she would silently complain about headaches, and have really bad eye and back pain. So one day, Carmilla decided she would talk to her about it. She walked into Vaggie’s room but had the worst timing because she was in the middle of changing her bandages with her back facing Carmilla. And oh boy did those injuries look infected as fuck. There was puss and it was inflamed and really red.

“Vaggie?! Why didn’t you tell me about this,” Carmilla ran up to her, causing Vaggie to flinch and cover her body up.

“I- I have it under control!” Vaggie tried to say but Carmilla wasn’t taking it.

“Nu-unh, don’t lie to me. We’re going to the hospital,”

Vaggie stopped breathing for a second. The last time someone said that she was stuck in a mental hospital until she jumped out the 6th story window, landing her in heaven. She didn’t want to be stuck there again.

“No! I’m not going there!” Vaggie yelled. She gasped for air and stumbled to a corner, trying to catch her breath.

“Sweetie, take some deep breaths. The hospital will help you,” Carmilla kept her calm and spoke softly to her.

“No it won’t! It didn’t help last time!” Vaggie screamed at her, tugging her hair.

“What? We never went to the sloth ring before,” the older lady stated.

“When I was alive, my stupid parents took me there for being abnormal and I was stuck there for 5 months! They-they paid the nurses to keep me there!” She panicked. Carmilla didn’t want her to rip her hair out and grabbed her stuffed bear off of her bed and handed it to her. She squeezed the bear tight.

“Vaggie, we are NOT going to that type of hospital, okay? This is just a doctor's visit. I will not be paying anyone to keep you there,” The older woman promised.

“Y-you won’t?” Vaggie asked.

“I promise I won’t,” she replied. The small girl held out her pinky finger.

“Pinky pwomise?” Carmilla held out her pinky and curled it around her’s

“Pinky promise.” she confirmed.

Getting Vaggie changed was a bit hard. Everything hurt her back. Putting her diaper on was the worst part because she had to lay down on her back. But she managed to do it. Once tying her shoes and packing the diaper bag. Vaggie curled up in the backseat of the car with her plushie tucked in her arms.

Once they got to the hospital, Vaggie held Carmilla’s hand as they walked through the entrance and into the lobby. Carmilla saw how nervous she was and picked her up and set her in her lap while she did paper work. Whenever someone would give them a weird look, Carmilla would send a death glare at them before continuing on her work.

It took a little bit of time before they were called back. Vaggie was led into a room where they took her height and weight. Then they lead her to a room and asked her to get changed into this weird paper gown.

“Help, mama?” Vaggie asked. Carmilla nodded and helped her get changed into it after the nurse left.

When the doctor came in, Carmilla explained how she was a fallen angel (didn’t mention what type) and was also regressed. The doctor seemed okay with it and just wanted to help out.

“Okay, Vaggie, sweetie, I’m just gonna take a look at your back,” The doctor said. Vaggie moved so her back was facing him. He undid the backside of her gown her a took a look. He visibly winced at it.

“Oooh, yeeah, this is definitely infected. But I can fix it.” The doctor then dug around his thousands of syringes and picked one out. Vaggie had seen and clinged to Carmilla, jumping into her lap.

“I just need to inject some strong antibiotics into the wound and then clean it up and prescribe you some meds,” He explained. That didn’t help vaggie at all. She whimpered, really scared of the needle.

“Is it alright if she sits in my lap?” Carmilla asked. The doctor nodded and she held Vaggie tightly and closely before he made the first injection. It stung like hell. Vaggie screamed in pain and cried, trying to move but her caregiver held her too tight. Carmilla used one hand to dig through the diaper bag and took out her pacifier and plopped it in her mouth. It didn’t deafen the screams that much but it helped soothe her a little.

The first injection was soon done. Carmilla could tell that vaggie needed a change. The pain and scariness must’ve made her wet herself. She rocked her and helped her calm down before the second injection, the one for her other side. She didn’t scream as loud but Carmilla was sure she’d be getting tinnitus later.

“You’re such a brave girl, Mija, I think you deserve ice cream,” Carmilla wiped away her tears. Finally, the doc finished cleaning her back wound.

The eye injury wasn’t nearly as bad and all she needed was a couple of antibiotic pills for it.

“Now, I would like to keep her here overnight, just to monitor her. We need to know if she has any reactions, especially because she’s not used to hell’s medicines yet,” Doc said.

Vaggie felt her heart drop. She had to stay overnight? No, this couldn’t be happening! Her grip tightened on Carmilla’s shirt and her eyes were screwed shut. Her heart beat faster than a lightning bolt would strike. Her steady breathing turned into hyperventilating.

“Sh, shh, it’ll be okay bebe, I’ll be with you the whole time,” Carmilla rocked her, trying to stop a panic attack from occurring.

Those words helped calm her down before she freaked out. The doctor showed them to her room and helped them get settled. Carmilla had already asked clara to pack an overnight bag for Vaggie to drop off.

After Carmilla changed Vaggie, she settled into her hospital bed. It was a little uncomfy and irritated her back a little but it would have to do. Carmilla was reading her a story when a knock came from the door.

“Guess who’s here? Your favorite older sister!” Clara announced and walked in.

“Hey, I’m her favorite!” Odette replied, also walking in. Vaggie giggled at their antics.

“You bof equally suck,” Vaggie joked.

“I am wounded, baby sis,” Clara sarcastically said. Even though Vaggie had a hard time understanding sarcasm, this was kind of funny to her.

Clara was carrying a duffle bag with some overnight and comfort items. Odette had a little gift bag with her.

“We heard you couldn’t get ice cream, so we got you a little gift” Odette handed her the bag. Vaggie immediately opened it and took out a new stuffed animal. It was a purple fluffy rabbit. She squealed and hugged it.

“T’ank you! I love her!”

Carmilla, Odette, and Clara both smiled. The cuteness of this girl.

Odette and Clara had to leave soon after since it was getting late. Carmilla was allowed to stay overnight with her because she was an overlord and a pretty big deal. She tried to keep Vaggie entertained the best she could. Eventually, it was getting close to her bedtime and she fell asleep on her own. Carmilla nestled into the uncomfortable armchair to try to get some sleep. Her poor baby was going through so much. She didn’t want to be asleep in case she needed her. But her body eventually gave out and she fell into a deep sleep.

#agere writing #agere fanfic #hazbin hotel agere #padded agere #ageredips #sfw littlespace #sfw #sfw agere #age regression #hazbin hotel age regression

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