#psycho pass angst | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

seungfl0wer · 2 months

Text

*I’ll do anything* P.2

Part Title: Warmth

Paring: Minho x Reader (Fem)

Genre: Smut/Angst/Fluff

Warnings: Mafia!Au, Mentions of Pew Pews, Mentions of not eating, unprotected sex, Creampie, outside sex kinda. This was proof read but I re-uploaded it so it’s not anymore

Series Master List

-🩵

A few days had passed since moving to Minhos place. Things have been very quiet. Minho hasn’t been home very much only coming home late at night. When you do see a glimpse of him in the morning he honestly looks rough. He looks very drained like work has been kicking his ass. Which duh it probably quite literally has. I mean you wash his clothes you see the blood stains on his shirts.

You were doing your nightly routine of cooking dinner for the man in question before hearing a knock at the door. Your heart jumped slowly making your way to look through the peep hole. It was Minho being carried by a muscular man. He knocked again your hand shook as you went to open the door. You opened it to let him in, he walked him to the couch placing him gently down. He looked at you quickly looking you up and down “you must be y/n hmm?” He said his eyes studying you.

You nod looking down at Minho who was all bloodied up. His beautiful plump lips swollen, nose bloodied and his shirt ripped. You looked back up at the other man standing there “he’ll be alright we had the doctor check him over.” He said seeing your worried face. “I’m changbin by the way, I’ve known Minho for well over 10 years.” He said patting the back of him. “He may need help in the shower though, definitely needs one.” He said moving his hand over his nose acting like he stank. He let out a soft chuckle “just be careful with his shoulder though one of the bullets did graze him.”

Changbin made his way towards the door “take good care of him ok? He might act all big and bad but he’s a good guy.” He said with a smile. You nodded smiling back at him “if you need anything here’s my number.” He said handing you a card, you went to grab it the two of you making eye contact. He was staring what felt like straight to your soul, he let out a deep sigh before letting the card go. “Man does he know how to pick the pretty ones” he said turning around “I’m just happy he finally got someone after his last psycho honestly.” He said waving good bye walking out the door.

As much as you wanted to go after him and ask him a million questions you made your way back to the man slouched on the couch. He squinted at you trying to get up he felt embarrassed letting you see him like this, All beat up and tattered. As he tried getting up you quickly grabbed his arm helping him stand. “How about I run you a nice warm bath?” You said leading him to the bathroom. You sat him down on the toilet running him a look warm bath before turning to him.

Shit. You had to get him naked. You didn’t think this through. Would he be mad at you? You asked yourself “y/n if you’re uncomfortable you don’t-“ he slurred his words before you cut him off “no it’s fine- I just didn’t want you to be mad or anything.” You said softly. He shook his head “I don’t mind.” He said slowly trying to take his torn shirt off. You quickly helped him out of his clothes. Trying to keep your eyes on anywhere but his upper body. God was it hard though. You felt like a pervert ogling him like you were but you’ve never seen a man so perfect before.

Everything about him just looked perfect, his body, his arms, the few tattoos he had and- and how well off he was below. You felt your cheeks heat up as Minho got up his naked body inches away from you “y/n” he said in almost a whisper making you look up at him. His eyes were dark staring at you with love? Lust? You couldn’t tell. You replied with a simple hmm while you stared back at him “thank you” he said his voice barely audible now. He himself to sit in the bath as he let the water wash over him.

“Feels good” he said letting himself sink into the bath. You let him relax for a bit before grabbing the shampoo washing his hair for him. He let out almost purrs of happiness at the feeling his eyes closed. You rinsed his hair for him now grabbing a rag to wipe the dry blood from his face. He grabbed your hand looking up at you, you were so close to his face. “It takes everything in me not to just kiss you.” He said again in the most softest voice you could barely hear. You stayed like that for what felt like hours before he stood up.

“I feel a lot better now.” He said as he washed off the rest of his body. You just kinda stared at him in awe. He chucked a bit looking at you “keep staring at me like that I’ll think you want me.” He said teasingly. Your face went red turning away “If you need anymore help yell I’m gonna finish dinner.” You said walking out of the bathroom. Minho had a huge smirk on his face. Thinking of something he was gonna put into action.

He walked behind you while you were cooking leaning himself behind you like he had before “y/n” he cooed into your ear. “Remember how you said you’d do anything to help?” He said pressing his body against you and then you felt it. He hasn’t even gotten dressed he was in only his robe. Your face grew hot feeling every inch of the man against you. You could feel yourself becoming turned on your core almost aching. You didn’t realize you hadn’t answered when Minho asked “is that a yes or no.”

He had himself positioned perfectly against you. His bulge pressing so nicely on the outline of your ass. He slowly moved his hips against you, you bitting your lip all you could do is nod. “Good” he said placing his hand on your hip pulling your body closer to his “why don’t we eat and then maybe we have some fun after?” His voice was full of lust you could feel how hard he was against you it made your body hot, you felt like had caught fire.

You couldn’t even muster out a word your head spinning at everything “answer me kitten” he said voice almost a hum. You nod yes before the man was spinning you around to look at him “use your words” he said hand coming up to cup your face “ok” you stuttered out making him raise a brow. “Just ok?” He studied your face. He not use to someone being like this with him. Most women throw themselves at him and here you were being all shy and reserved. His eyes looked over your face “I’m not gonna force you. I might be a criminal to most but I’d never force myself on anyone.” He said pulling away from you.

You don’t know what had come over you your hands moved pulling him close to you “i- it’s not that I don’t want to- I mean who wouldn’t want to with you.” You rambled “it’s just- you’re still hurt and haven’t probably eaten and I- I just wanna make sure you’re ok.” Your voice growing softer after every word until it sounded almost like a whisper.

“Y/n.” He was honestly in shock at your words “why do you even care?” He asked his voice meeting yours at a whisper “you’re just doing this for money, why do you care if I’m hurt.” He choked out. His chest became almost tight feeling all types of emotion. “Because, you could have turned me away, could have killed me and not even be fazed but you’ve helped me.. more than you probably know..” your words faded off.

He wrapped his arms around you pulling you close to him you both stayed there in each other’s embrace for a few minutes before he pulled away. He smiled a bit looking at you “listen kitten I’ll never be to hurt to have a good time with you.” He joked “but let’s eat” he said as he grabbed you two a drink. You made him a plate placing it in front of him as you started to clean up the kitchen. “Sweetheart the kitchen can wait sit and eat with me.” He said looking over at you.

“I’m ok I’m not really hungry” you lied. Truth be told you haven’t really eaten anything since being here. You felt bad for eating his food so you snacked on the small bit of food you still had from your house. “When’s the last time you actually ate” his voice stern almost “and don’t you lie to me” he said in the same deep voice. You felt air catching in your throat a lump not letting you speak “I don’t know” you hiccuped out it was soft barely audible.

“Excuse me?” He said his voice sounding almost angry? No not angry more upset? “Look at me.” He demanded. You slowly turned looking at the floor head slowling looking up at him. “Why haven’t you been eating? You make the food for Christ sake!” He said his words coming out louder than he expected. Your heart was beating fast, you could almost feel tears pricking at your eyes before he said softly “you need to eat you’ll get sick and I don’t want to see you hurt.” He said eyes locking with yours “I just- didn’t wanna eat your-“ he cut you off “y/n this is your home now too, yeah the circumstances aren’t quote on quote normal but still” he said getting up.

He motioned for you to sit as he made another place for you “eat please” he said placing the food in front of you “and make sure you continue to do so.” He said waiting for you to take a bite “make a list and we’ll go shopping for stuff you like.” He said signing. He watched you pick up the food slowly eating it. “I can’t believe you” he let out a chuckle. “What am I gonna do with you.” He said the chuckle becoming louder.

You both sat there eating dinner together before you get up to take the dishes dropping them into the sink. You were about to start them before you felt Minhos hand on yours. “Come with me.” He said he guided you to a side door bringing you out to the garden he had. He brought you to a small spot he had a big pillow at. He smiled as he pulled you down with him on the pillow.

“This is one of my little safe spaces.” He says while staring up at the night sky. You turn looking over at the man his eyes sparking just like the stars painted in the sky. You curled up into his arms as you both laid there. Your hand rested on his thigh then you remembered he was still in his robe. You swore at the touch of your hand you could see a pink creep on his cheeks.

Your hand rubbed his thigh half not meaning it in anyway the other half wanting him to just take you there. He hummed at the feeling your hand inching closer and closer to his unclothed cock. Minho left out a soft groan at the feeling. “Y/n” he said his voice low “don’t start something you can’t finish” he teased. “If- if I happen to want to start something will you be ok?” You questioned.

His body warmed at the question there you go again making sure he was ok with it. He lifted your head staring into your eyes “I’ll be fine.” He said lips dancing close to yours “are you ok with it?” He asked wanting to make sure you were comfortable. You nod yes looking at him getting lost in his eyes. “Words kitten” he said this time placing a soft kiss to your lips. “Y-yes” you said eyes fluttering at the feeling of how soft his lips still were even after being hurt. His eyes squinted “yes what?” Your head tilts a bit remembering you agreed to only call him sir. “Y-yes sir” you stuttered. He got a smug smirk plastered on his face “you’ve been forgetting that haven’t you kitten?”

“I’m sorry sir” you said softly “it’s ok for now, I’ll punish you later for it.” He said biting the bottom of your lip before pulling it. “I want this to be loving more than lust” his voice faded before continuing “tell me if I’m hurting you or you want me to stop.” He said waiting for you to answer as you nodded yes that’s all he needed before kissing you passionately. The feeling he had for you was so strong almost like you both had known each other for years.

His hand quickly found the hem of your pants, his hand diving in feeling how wet you were already from him. You slipped two fingers into you curling them as he moved them sloppily. His kisses following suit, sucking your tongue. You let out the sweetest noises making him groan in return “fuck you sound so pretty” he cooed as he moved his hand fast his thumb circling your clit. You moved your own hand to grip around has throbbing cock moving is slowly. He let out almost what sounded like a whimper at the feeling of you touching him.

“Y/n” he said between kisses “I can normally last but- I really don’t think I’ll be able to right now… it’s been awhile and you just..” he admitted with a sigh “I need to feel you.” He said moving to be on top of you his eyes searched your face for a protest “kitten” he choked out “I’m all yours remember?” And that’s all he needed he tossed your pants off before pushing himself into you. The sinful noise that filled the air from the sound of skin smacking to the noises you both were making.

Minho latched himself to your neck sucking it hard you digging your nails into his back. His hand came up to play with your clit as he fucked deep into you. Everything that was happening felt like a dream. A wet dream but a dream at that. The beautiful man was moaning into your neck letting out curse words as you clenched around him “sir!” You moaned loudly Minho groaning “y/n- say- say my name please. I wanna hear you say my name while you cum on my cock.” He said his words jumbled together.

He pumped faster into you his hand racking your bud as he drove you both your highs. You almost screamed out his name as you came. You could feel his cock twitching inside you “where” he said quickly feeling himself about to release “in-“ you stuttered as he unloaded himself deep inside you. His body shaked as he tried to catch his breath. He looked down at you kissing you softly before laying his body next to you. He pulled you close to him, rubbing your back. He looked like he was in deep thought.

You looked up at him catching a smile creep across his face “do you just charm your way into everyone’s heart so easily?” He asked looking down at you. When you didn’t respond he just smiled “you know it’s honestly hard to crack my ice heart but since I’ve met you your warmth has thawed it a lot.” He said now staring at the stars. “I really wanted to just make you my slave and be how I am to others. But you just- dig those claws into me.” He rambled on.

“What I’m trying to get at is I was prepared to just be an asshole to you like I am to everyone else because it’s easier with this job however seemed like you had other plans even if you didn’t mean too.” He said looking back at you. “Just know though, I’ve been fucked over really bad before so I still might need some warming up in some aspect. But I’ll fight the world for you y/n you have my word on that.” He said kissing you softly.

The big bad mafia boss was spilling all the sweet honey from himself for you. The little bear eating it up every second. Your mind was still in shock at how things were going his kiss bringing you back to reality. “Let’s get cleaned up and head to bed yeah?” He said stretching “let’s have a date tomorrow, we can stop by the hospital to see how your bother is.” He said smiling meeting yours that crept across your face. You both walked in taking a quick shower Minho took your hand looking at you “mine or yours?” He asked.

“Whichever” you answered back just wanted to lay in bed “we’ll go to yours.” He said walking into your room greeted by your cat who stretched as he saw you come in. You both crawled into bed cuddled up to one another. Your cat finding a spot between you both, Minho let out a happy sigh. “This is the warmth I’m taking about” he said softly as he kissed you before you both drifted to sleep. A long whirlwind of a night coming to a perfect ending.

💙 If you’d like to read more of my stuff you can find it Here: Master List . Thank you for reading and if requests are open or you just wanna talk feel free to send me something🩵

Tagglist: @linoxii , @scuzmunkie

222 notes · View notes

queen-of-deans-booty · 7 days

Text

Checkmate

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~1.5k

Warnings: angst, murder, fearful for your life, psycho ex

Summary: You work as a maid for the richest and most eligible bachelor. You go to his mansion twice a week and clean his house, and you make pretty good money doing it. The only issue? Your psycho ex, but Dean shows you that he might be just a tad worse than Isaac.

Square Filled: maid au (2023) for @spnaubingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

Another day, another eight hours spent in this mansion. This is a place you can never see yourself living in only because you can’t ever think to make as much money as your boss does. From what you know, he’s the CEO of two companies, has investments in other places, and is just really smart about managing his money. You don’t see him often since he spends most of his time in his office or not at the house at all, but he did hire you to clean his mansion. He pays you generously, more than you have ever made in your life, twice even.

He’s very generous but you hear he’s a cold-hearted bitch. He’s the most respected and most eligible bachelor this state has ever seen, but he can be as cold as ice. You’ve walked past his office before and have overheard him yelling at people more than once. You do not want to be on the receiving end of that cold stare, so it’s best if you keep your head down and clean as best as you can without getting in his way.

You walk into the kitchen carrying five bouquets of bright and colorful flowers. Dean doesn’t like to keep color in his mansion--only black, gray, and white--so the flowers stand out beautifully. He doesn’t seem to mind since they don’t move once you put them up. Before you get started cleaning, you replace the old flowers with the new ones and toss the old ones into the trash.

Normally, you connect your speaker to your phone and use music to pass the time, but you promised to call your best friend once you got here because of what happened last night. You grab the cleaning cart from the closet and start with the kitchen, and you call your best friend on FaceTime. It’s better than keeping the phone to your ear or putting in uncomfortable headphones in your ear.

“Bitch, you will never guess who just sent me a DM,” Gen says when she answers.

“Who?”

“Isaac.”

“What did he say?”

“What do you think? You rejected him last night and he thinks coming to me is the next best thing.”

Isaac used to be your boyfriend. You were blind to the red flags in the beginning of the relationship because you thought you were in love with him. He said all the right things, did all the right things, and made you feel special. He complimented you all the time, showed you off to all of his friends, and never laid a merciful hand on you.

That is, until about a year into the relationship. The red flags became so apparent that you couldn’t ignore them any longer. He became possessive, jealous, controlling, and more violent. He has never hit or slapped you, but he has grabbed you hard enough to leave bruises on your arms. You broke it off a month ago but the bitch won’t stay away from you.

He keeps showing up at your house telling you to come home and that you’re being overdramatic. He’s there when you go get coffee in the morning. He’s there when you visit your sister (he’s friends with her husband). He’s there even in your nightmares. You’re shocked he hasn’t shown up at your work. You’re not sure how Dean would take to having someone like Isaac in, on, or around his property.

“The best thing to do is ignore him. He’ll go away,” you sigh.

“I don’t think so. He was pretty adamant about getting in touch with you. My husband would have kicked his ass if he came over.”

You wipe down the counters with a sigh.

“I’m sorry this is happening to you.”

“I think you should call the police.”

You roll the cart into the living room and get started dusting the surfaces.

“He hasn’t trespassed onto your property, though. What will they do?”

“He’s harassing you, Y/N. He keeps coming to your house uninvited. That’s trespassing. He was bad enough as your boyfriend, but now he’s crossing the line into psycho territory. He hurt you, Y/N. The bruises may be gone but those emotional scars are still there.”

You replace the duster and stand in the living room in thought. She does have a point but the bruises are long gone. That’s physical evidence you don’t have to use against him. He hasn’t laid a hand on you since the breakup. What will the police do?

“Yeah, I know but they won’t do anything if he hasn’t done anything. If he does, I’ll make sure to call you.”

“Yeah, I’ll fuck him up.”

You giggle at her eagerness. “I gotta go. Got lots to clean.”

“Yeah, for the hot bachelor.”

“Him being hot has nothing to do with him being a bachelor.”

“Still, you’re lucky to see that all day.”

“I rarely see him. He stays in his office all day which I’m not allowed in, by the way. If he’s not in there, he’s at his office building in town.”

“You’re single and he’s single. I’d tap that if I were you.”

“Imagine if Isaac found out. He’d kill Dean.” You roll the cart into the bathroom. “I gotta go, though.”

“Call me later.”

“Will do.”

Like you told Gen, you don’t see Dean the entire day. If it weren't for the initial interview you had with him and the short passings you’ve shared with him, you wouldn’t think he’s real. There is one thing that Gen got right. The man is hot. Gorgeous, even. If you two saw each other at a bar, you’d definitely be trying to take him home. Bright green eyes, tank skin, freckles, bow legs, and muscles for days. The man is the whole package.

After doing your eight hours, the sun is already going down. You leave the invoice for Dean on the kitchen counter as he requests before returning the cleaning cart and packing up your things. You walk across Dean’s lawn to get to your car but pause when you see someone standing in your way.

“What the hell are you doing here?” you hiss at your ex. “How did you know where I work? How did you get past the fence?”

“I know everything about you, baby. I’m here to see if you’re done being dramatic.”

“Being dramatic? You’re a psycho!”

“I call that determination.”

“Okay, Isaac, I need you to leave. We broke up and this is highly inappropriate. Plus, Dean isn’t going to be happy when he finds you loitering on his property.”

“Who the fuck is Dean?”

“Isaac, please leave. I don’t want you here. I don’t want you in my life anymore. Show up uninvited again, and I will call the police.”

You try to walk past him but Isaac isn’t taking no for an answer. He grabs your arm so tightly you think there will be bruises there tomorrow.

“If I were you, I’d get your hand off her.”

You and Isaac turn to see Dean standing about twenty feet away.

“Who the fuck are you?” Isaac snaps.

“The fuck person who owns this property. Get your hands off her.”

Isaac listens and you move your arm to get the blood flowing again.

“Come on, Y/N, let’s go home.”

“No, I’m not going anywhere with you. Just leave me alone.”

“Are you deaf? No means no.”

“No offense, dude, but she’s mine, okay?”

“Not on my property, she isn’t.” Dean narrows his eyes.

“Your property?”

“Yes, touch her again and I’ll decorate your remains across it.”

“Whatever,” Isaac scoffs. “Call me when you’re done being dramatic.”

Isaac turns and leaves until you can’t see him anymore.

“Did he hurt you?”

“No, I’m fine.” Dean doesn't believe you but he’ll let it go for now. “I’m sorry about that.”

“No need to apologize. It’s not your fault, but you’re not going home. Come on, you’ll stay here for the night.”

Dean turns and starts walking back toward his house. You don’t know what to do but you feel yourself following him. It’s like your legs have a mind of their own.

“No, it’s okay.”

“I’m not a man who takes no for an answer, Y/N.”

Damn, that’s hot. You’re definitely thinking with your vagina and not your head. You should get in your car and go home but something compels you to stay here with Dean.

“Would you really have scattered his remains across your lawn?” you ask when you catch up to him.

“Which answer would make you feel better?”

“Never mind. Don’t answer that.”

Dean chuckles and leads you up the stairs. “Do you have a friend you can stay with?”

“Yes.”

“Good. You can stay with her tomorrow. Isaac won’t be a problem much longer.”

You’re too scared and too turned on to ask follow-up questions. He takes you to a spare bedroom and opens the door for you.

“Thank you, Dean.”

“Anytime, sweetheart. I’m right down the hall if you need me.”

He leaves you alone, but you’re not sure what to do now. In less than twenty-four hours, you’ve gone from working for Dean to sleeping in the bedroom next to his. He’s now on Isaac’s radar but you have a feeling Dean can take him out before he even knows what’s happening.

Want to be tagged? Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

#dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester fic #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester angst #dean winchester fiction #dean winchester fan fiction #dean winchester fan fic #supernatural #supernatural fic #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural fanfic #supernatural fluff #supernatural angst

151 notes · View notes

boydepartment · 8 months

Text

weird cat guy- nishimura riki x reader

a/n: THIS WAS REQUESTED BY @angrybananapolice I HOPE ITS OKAY <3

request: can i req a comfort kinda fluff with Riki? reader is that kind of friend who's like a side character in her own life. Like, she isn't known by her name, she's known as her best friend's friend. You get me? so basically, reader isn't recognised a lot but then Riki somehow waltzes into her life blah blah thats all on you and then they kiss at the end because :)

warnings: cursing, insecurity, angst, comfort, fluff, kinda romcom

wc- 600-800 words

MASTERLIST

in school you were pretty invisible, you didn’t talk much and when you did your friend would accidentally overshadow you. you don’t think she meant to, it just happened.

it was really frustrating you inside but you never were going to say anything. at the end of the day school wasn’t forever and you could move on with your life in a couple years max. there was no reason to make a scene or beg for attention.

that’s how your life was, blending into the background. who were you to change it?

when you walked to school with your friend you listened to her go on and on about some annoying guy in her dms. you thought she didn’t realize how lucky she was for people to actually have a romantic interest in her. you had a feeling something like this would never happen to you. a guy making a fool of himself to gain your attention? funny.

“he was so annoying all he did was yap!” you felt her hand on your shoulder. you couldn’t help but laugh along, no matter how you were feeling- she had a point.

“he really did sound like a yapper.” you started to joke with her as she continued.

“and his instagram was a little odd too! wait look!”

you watched as she pulled up his instagram, you both spent time poking fun and giggling. it was almost like middle school again.

until you got to the school building, then you faded in the background. you loved your best friend just not at school. she talked to way more people and left you by yourself socially. she would drag you around and then not truly include you.

and that’s how you’d spend your days, doodling on your math notes, messing with your shoes under the desk, and trying not to fall asleep. rinse and repeat…

however one thing did happen, on your walk home you were alone because your friend got invited to a study hall.

“i’m sorry y/n… will you be okay on your way home?”

you nodded and smiled at her, forced, “yeah of course! don’t worry about it!”

you started your journey home by yourself, at this point you should’ve gotten used to it. being alone. it was almost tranquil and you felt like nothing could ruin this moment for you. no school, no stress anymore, no-

“PLEASE STOP THAT CAT!”

when you looked up you saw a cat and a lanky figure sprinting towards you, the cat jumped on you and scared you so bad you fell over. the guy toppling down with you.

“what the hell!?” you yelled grabbing your head.

the boy looked at you, “i was trying to get that cat! i wanted him!”

you tried to stop the dizziness, “go to a shelter then, you psycho!”

the guy stood up and grabbed your hands to help you up, “that’s too easy!”

you finally looked at him and he was astonishingly attractive, “you’re crazy!” you looked away from him, now embarrassed. you barely talked to people, let alone attractive people. this was so embarrassing! and it was the hot guy’s fault!

“i’m sorry for knocking you over!” he exclaimed, “listen how can i make it up to you!” he stood there tapping his foot.

you grabbed your bag off the floor, “by leaving me alone.”

“come on! i totally knocked you over! well technically the cat did then i tripped over you but that’s not the point!”

you looked at him again, “you can leave me alone and stop being weird towards stray cats.”

at that, you walked away quickly passed him. god knows what that weirdo does on his free time. chasing cats? what a dork.

the next day was like clockwork, you enjoyed your bestfriends company until school, then you lost her. school and your studies were boring- it was a review week.

you sat down at your desk for lunch, your best friend sitting by you but not with you.

“oh y/n what do-“ everytime she tried to talk to you, someone else took her attention. if you tried to talk, someone talked over you.

you learned your lesson quickly.

“i heard that cute guy has been peeking into the classrooms today!” one of her friends exclaimed. one thing you learned was that listening and noting things was key to at least trying to enjoy the social aspect of school. you didn’t have to be involved.

“which one?” your best friend asked. everyone looked at your friend.

“that cat boy! he always chases cats and birds!”

you found yourself giggling slightly, that was ironic. what are the odds?

your best friend gasped, “oh him! he is so cute!”

they started talking amongst themselves until you heard giggling and gasping. probably some arm smacking too. which was typical in the gossip circle.

“oh my gosh it’s him! (b/f/n) he’s probably going to go over to you! what if he asks you out!”

yeah probably. you knew how this was going to play out. she’d go out with him, probably get the ick, then he’d have a bad rep because he fumbled with the school’s flower.

it was then more silent than usual and you had a box of chocolates thrown on your desk.

you looked up and it was cat boy, the psycho that ran into you.

“what’s- what’s this?!” your eyes widened, the boy started to snicker.

“for running into you. my mom told me to get it.” he pulled up his chair in front of you, all eyes were on you both.

“i didn’t even know you went to my school!” you whisper yelled, panicking that the attention was on you. the boy started to unpack his lunch in front of you and you hid your face from everyone.

“likewise!” he spoke and started unpacking his lunch, “do you like cucumbers? my mom always packs them but i don’t really enjoy them.”

he started speaking like it was the most normal thing in the world.

“ummmm…. what are you doing?”

the boy looked up at you, “actually talking to you.” he whispered, “and having lunch. duh.”

your eyes scanned the room, your best friend’s friends still looking at you, including her. you felt nauseous.

“this isn’t a funny joke if you’re pranking me.” you said firmly, the boy looked a little shocked.

“why would i be pranking you? i don’t have friends either.” he said simply and took a sip of his milk, he put the cucumbers on your plate.

you eyed the cucumbers, “is that why you chase cats and birds?”

he looked up at you, giggled, then nodded, “i’m riki by the way..”

“y/n.”

you honestly expected him to hang out with you once and then drop it. but that didn’t happen… he actually continued to hang out with you. be around you, and actually talk to you. riki would remember the little things too.

he started to walk you home and you got so used to his company that it scared you. in your mind you were boring, he was probably just using you to get to your friend. you’d take whatever riki said with a grain of salt, no matter how sweet. why would you risk having feelings for someone who could just be using you?

the weather was starting to warm up and your allergies were not helping you. your head was in pain and school just wasn’t it for you today. the idea of looking at the green chalkboard sounded nauseating.

you stayed home and took pain meds, around 10 am you were trying to make tea when there was a knocking at your door.

that was terrifying, it was only you home. if someone decided to break it you would probably die.

you rushed over and peeked through the window. and there was riki.

you opened the door, “what are you doing here.”

“you weren’t at school, can i come in?”

“can you stop pretending you actually care?” you wrapped your arms around yourself and looked down at his feet. you were getting tired of riki being overly nice to you, especially because to you it was fake. it was a facade.

you heard a surprise noise and then a scoff.

“i’m not pretending! what do you take me for!?”

you finally got the courage to look up at him, “someone who’s way out of my league and probably only using me to get to my friend, it’s happened since middle school, and she likes you too! so go to her! stop wasting my time.” you went to shut the door but riki stopped it.

“what the fuck are you talking about? have i ever mentioned your stupid- no offense- your stupid friend?” riki readjusted the bag on his shoulder, “i got your schoolwork too dumbass, since she said she forgot it. that’s the one and only time i’ve ever spoken to her.”

you looked at him, still in disbelief. riki looked at you, somewhat annoyed.

“y/n i’ve hung out with you everyday for a month, i have no other friends because people either make fun of me for being cat boy or they’re just trying to date me. it’s a weird 50/50.” he said simply, his stare softened.

“riki-“

“what’s that burning smell?”

“FUCK!” you rushed back to see the water boiling over the stove and went to fix it. you were already upset because you couldn’t find the kettle, now you were upset you fucked up.

“god! i can’t do anything right!”

unbeknownst to you riki let himself in, “go lay down. i’ll make tea.”

you flipped around and looked at him, at this point you didn’t feel well, you were overwhelmed, and you just wanted to lay down, “fine… whatever…”

you laid down on the couch and tried to check your notifications, your best friend hadn’t even checked if you were okay. hell, she didn’t even read your text asking to get your work.

sighing you zoned out until you felt a weight next to you, “sit up and drink up.” you listened, mumbling a thank you.

“i like you.”

you choked on your tea, “you what? riki that’s not funny, that’s mean. you’re being mean.” you spoke quickly and waved your hand brushing him off.

“i’m not lying to you, i’ve been hitting on you this entire time!” riki exclaimed and sat back astonished.

you set the tea down, “it’s hard for me to believe you.”

“i know.” he took a deep breath and leaned his head back, “i know. clearly it is.”

you felt bad now, if he was telling the truth you were the one being mean now…

“i’m sorry, im not used to all of this.” you felt your eyes water and riki sprung into action. he softly grabbed your hands, they were freezing.

“i know you aren’t, listen… i lied when i said i didn’t know we went to the same school-“ he blurted out. you looked up at him.

“what.”

“i’ve had a crush on you since the beginning of school but i didn’t know how to tell you and you were always around that stupid group that never talked to you and i felt really bad but i couldn’t say anything because im known as weird cat boy and i just i was trying to catch that cat to try and impress you but i failed-“

around the middle of his speech it was like time stopped, it was now or never.

if it was a joke and your school social life was over then you could transfer online or something.

you sat up on your knees and made the boy face you, before you leaned in and kissed him.

he tensed up before easing into the kiss, when he pulled away softly he chuckled, “i’m sorry for lying about that, it’s the one thing i lied about and i felt embarrassed for liking you for so long.”

you pecked his lips again, “is it embarrassing to like me?”

“NO!” riki said quickly, “absolutely not! i just felt like a loser, NOT BECAUSE-“

you started to laugh, “i’m just teasing you!” when you calmed down you looked at him, riki’s ears were pink and he was just staring at you.

“thank you for being a real friend to me…” you smiled at him, tearing up again.

“can i be your real boyfriend? or am i about to get friendzoned…?”

you laughed again and hugged him, well tackling him, “you can be my real boyfriend!”

653 notes · View notes

turbulentscrawl · 2 months

Text

Protection

Yet another little blurb series that absolutely no one asked me for. BUT YOU KNOW WHAT? WHATEVER GETS THE JUICES FLOWING AGAIN.

warnings for violence, angst, and comfort. Use of potentially triggering words like "psycho" and "whore."

The manor was a hard adjustment for any new face, but some handled it worse than others. This mystery man was particularly defensive, particularly paranoid of the manor’s nightmarish circumstances. He was stressed, and scared, and confused, and bleeding out in his first match was the last straw needed to tip the scales towards an outburst.

Norton

You were just trying to be friendly when you spoke to him at breakfast. Really. But looking back you could see how a terrified mind might misconstrue your small comforts and placations about death as mocking. He stormed off mid-meal, and you spent the rest of it stewing in quiet guilt. A walk in the gardens would do you some good, you decided, but Norton was still busy with his second helping of steak and eggs and told you to go on ahead.

So alone you exited the room, lost in regretful thoughts, but you didn’t make it halfway down the hall before the new guy appeared again. He stopped down ten feet from you, coiled tight like a cornered animal. He didn’t look like he had calmed down at all, but then he hadn’t seemed calm since he arrived. In any case, it seemed like the best chance you would get to give an apology.

“I’m sorry for upsetting you earlier,” you said, stepping aside to let the fearful man pass, so he could go finish his meal.

But he reacted to your words like a viper strike, flinching and then snapping forward to put his face in yours. His eyes were wild.

“Don’t play coy about it,” he hissed. His hands, at his sides, itched and twitched to grab and you were too fear frozen to move away from them. “You’re part of this hell too, I know it. All of it an act, AN ACT! But you won’t trick me. You won’t get to make it worse for me!” He raved and threatened in your face for what seemed like forever, so close he took up your entire vision and you forgot where you were. Maybe that’s what it was like for him, right now, you faintly mused, still trying to understand. You hadn’t been like this when you first arrived… you or anyone else that you could recall.

He stopped talking suddenly, eyes tracked on something behind you.

You looked over your shoulder to see what had caught his attention and spotted, back through the doorway to the dining room, Norton tipped back in his dining chair and watching. Watching you. Watching him. A steak knife was in his hand and a dare was in his eyes.

Your attention was drawn back by the sound of the new guy stomping off again, hurried, tail still between his legs. When you looked back at Norton again, he tipped his chin to beckon you. When you stepped back through the door, Norton took his foot off of the table (its placement earned a side-eye from Fiona) to lower his chair back to four legs, and kicked out the empty seat next to him for you to reclaim. You sat down meekly, shaken by guilt and fear.

“I was just trying to—”

“I know,” he interrupted, biting again into his food. “And he’ll figure it out himself too eventually. In the meantime, let him be someone else’s problem.”

In a rare show of public affection, Norton leaned over and kissed you on the temple. “And stick closer to me for a while. You’ll be fine.”

Naib

Shit had hit the fan as soon as everyone was back and healed from the match. You and the new guy had both died—you to the chair and him to bloodloss—but a tie was a tie and worth at least a small celebration. But when he joined you, Tracy, and Margey for the tea party, he completely lost it.

He leapt across the sun room table for you, tipping it and all its contents to the ground, and the girls screamed with a genuine shock and terror you hadn’t heard in a while. Your back and knees smarted, all whacked by the scattering wooden furniture. Hot tea seeped into your shirt and scalded your belly. Sharp, broken porcelain lay dangerously scattered around your head. You couldn’t tell what the girls were shouting because you were too focused on your assailant. On keeping his hands off of your throat, out of your eyes, and getting his pinning body off of you. His nails clawed at your face, you knew that much, but if the matches taught you anything it was to not give up on a struggle.

Just as you started in on some dirty fighting Naib had taught you (pulling, trying to rip his ears off), the man himself came charging in like a bull and tackled the new guy off of you. You got kicked a bit in the process—but that was a fair price to pay for being able to scramble to the other wall and watch, secured by Tracy an Margey, as Naib completely wailed on the guy.

Naib didn’t talk about his background much, but you knew he knew how to fight. This was barely a fight—a one-sided beatdown morelike—but in your bitter soreness you felt it was well deserved. Naib knew how to make every swing count, and it was only well after the new guy was limp on the ground that William showed up and hauled Naib off of him. Emily followed next, running to check on the new guy since you were already being doted on by the girls.

When William finally let Naib go, he huffed and puffed and flexed off some of his remaining aggression before spitting out a spiteful, “He ain’t dead. I ain’t that nice.”

Then he turned and shooed the girls off, scooped you up, and marched right out of the room. He held you too tight for your sore back’s liking, but you couldn’t begrudge him the positioning to keep his nose in your hair while walking to somewhere more secluded and safe. His chest was still heaving against your side, still high with adrenaline and worry. His knuckles were split and bloody. The day had only just started.

“Sorry,” you sighed into his neck. Naib scoffed, mouth still pressed to your scalp.

“What for? He’s the cunt.” He kicked open the door to your bedroom, fully pulling back enough to give you a smirk. “Don’t ever be sorry for me stepping in. I’ll take care of everything.”

Ithaqua

The manor sometimes held garden parties to welcome new inhabitants. Usually, though, it had better timing.

The poor new guy had had the awful misfortune of being a valuable player. He was good at getting in the hunter’s face, and the others did all they could to get him off his first chair safely. Because of the great team effort, he’d wound up bleeding out while the Hunter—Ithaqua, your boyfriend—dealt with the others. You knew that wasn’t Ithaqua’s modus operandi; it hadn’t been on purpose. …but he wasn’t exactly sorry about it, either.

As a result, the party was tense in some areas. Specifically, the areas where the new guy went. He walked around with a deep frown and a nervous jitter. He’d been anxious when he first arrived too, but it was understandably worse now, in witness of the two factions being chummy with one another right after one had just killed him. The hunters avoided him from the get go, and the survivors gave up on conversation with him not long after.

And you, well. You didn’t get to see Ithaqua in peaceful settings often.

That’s how you wound up here, you supposed.

“So you’re a fucking traitor whore!” the new guy snapped in your face. He wasn’t quiet, either. “What’s the matter with you! Those monsters beat and torture us and you turn around and hang all over one? You’re probably no fucking better, some kind of psycho killer! You’re the one who should die! You’re the one who should bleed!”

Not being quiet would be his downfall, though. Picking a secluded corner of the hedge maze to catch you in didn’t matter. The wind carried.

He didn’t get much farther into his rant and threats before Ithaqua came whirling around the corner with his “business” mask on. His axe was back in the manor, but the Hunter’s claws and sheer strength could do harm enough to a survivor. Ithaqua snatched the new guy up by the nape before he had a clue what was happening, and dangled him overhead. The new guy screeched in a way that made you feel sick, but you knew from experience there was no talking Ithaqua down. Shamefully, you turned your eyes away.

“You sure like to run your mouth,” Ithaqua sneered at him, tilting his head in that wicked, owlish way of his. “You know, all the other rats take death in stride around here. You clearly need some more practice with it.” Ithaqua ruffled your hair with his free hand before stalking off around the corner with the squirming offender.

When he came back a few minutes later, he was wiping his bloody claws off on his cape.

“He knows not to trouble you anymore,” he cooed. When he took off his mask, Ithaqua’s blackened eyed are far more serene than they should have been for what he’d just done. “Come, the Geisha brought out those little caked you like.”

#idv x reader #identity v x reader #identity v #norton campbell x reader #idv prospector #naib subedar x reader #idv mercenary #ithaqua x reader #idv night watch #turbulentscrawl

281 notes · View notes

luci-in-trenchcoats · 3 months

Text

He's My Man (Part 5)

Summary: Russell's taken care of the reader's problem but things take a turn and the happy couple may not be so happy after all...

Masterlist

Pairing: Russell Shaw x reader

Word Count: 6,300ish

Warnings: language, gun shot injury/past drugging/brief mention of attempted assault (not shown) mention, angst, fluff, smut, stalker, murder, self-worth issues

A/N: Thank you all for taking this journey with me with writing this new character! I might return to this world someday but until then, please enjoy the finale!

__________

When you pulled up to the dark house, you noticed Russell’s car had been pulled into the garage and covered with a tarp. You swallowed as you pulled in beside it, biting back bile when Owen parked right behind you, preventing any escape if it came to that. You’d given Russell nearly thirty minutes notice to prepare. You really hoped whatever he had planned was going to be over with fast.

“Fuck,” said Owen, dashing from his car in the downpour to inside the garage. He shook himself off like a dog and pulled off his baseball cap. You’d seen the gash on his forehead before but from the overhead light, a skull fracture was very visible. The dried blood had matted into his thick hair and, along with the other injuries, made him look half-dead.

“Why don’t you go relax inside, honey?” you forced out when you exited, slamming the door shut loudly, hoping Russell picked up on the fact you were here. “I’ll get the bags and then I’ll take a look at those cuts.”

“Thanks, baby. Don’t take too long.” You didn’t like how he kept saying that. He’d hung off of you at the store. Even if he wasn’t a raging psycho, personal space was still a thing.

You pretended to fuss about at the trunk as he went in the door from the garage to the house. It was quiet for a beat, your gaze locked on the open door in the corner.

Two quick shots rang out and you hit the cement floor hard. Nothing could be heard over the rain, your heart hammering away in your chest. Russell wouldn’t have shot Owen, would he? No, Russell would have snuck up on him, taken him out before he knew what hit him.

So had Owen been shooting? Was Russell hurt? You slowly sat up on your hands and knees, crawling along the side of the car until you reached the hood. You peaked your head around the corner and saw a pair of legs lying on the ground through the open door. It looked like Owen so you carefully rose, flinching when Russell came bounding in from behind you.

He held up his hands, your eyes widening at the blood staining his crisp white tee.

“What-”

“My stitches tore,” he said, turning his bicep towards you, the blood staining underneath the bandage. “Are you okay?”

You nodded, glancing back inside to where the body lay motionless. “Did you kill him?”

“Not yet,” said Russell, inching past you towards a work bench. “Although he did shoot my fucking front door. Do you have any idea how much a custom mahogany door costs? I might kill him for that alone.”

Russell opened a drawer, taking out duct tape and zip ties. He slammed it shut, pausing with his back to you.

“He’s not going to leave you alone if I let him live.”

“I know. He’s been following me for awhile I guess,” you said.

“I can frame him for Elpine’s murder if you don’t want me to kill him.” You leaned back against your car, Russell setting the items on the bench and joining you. “I don’t have to…you know.”

“How are you going to kill him?” you asked after a moment.

“Bag over the head. He’s passed out. He wouldn’t even feel it. Are you sure that’s what-” You went to his workbench and ripped off a garbage bag from the roll, Russell closing his eyes. “Y/N, you should stay out here. Let me do this.”

“Owen started slipping roofies into my drinks when I was fifteen.” His head snapped up as you sighed. “He drugged me twice but nothing happened because my dad was around. I had to be more careful once dad started to lose it. Owen’s a good decade older than me I’m sure you noticed. I’ve been scared of this guy for too long. I’m not asking you to kill him. I’m asking you to show me how to do this myself.”

“I appreciate how strong you are but I’m doing it,” he said, taking the bag from you. You dropped your hand, frowning up at him. He sighed, stroking your cheek with his clean hand. “Your soul has enough scars for a lifetime. Don’t add more.”

“You don’t have to kill someone for me, Russell. You don’t need that on you either. Look what you’ve already done.”

“I won’t lose any sleep over him. You can do something for me though.” You sighed, nodding once. “Go back to the store and buy some extra large garbage bags and some duct tape, got it?”

“Um, yeah. Are you-”

“Y/N. We’re on the clock. We’ll talk later,” he said, kissing your temple. “Now go.”

Three Hours Later

“To be perfectly clear, I’m doing this for Y/N, not you,” said Colter with a coldness you didn’t love. You knew Russell’s relationship with his little brother was strained but you’d thought it had gotten better over the past few days.

“Yeah, well it don’t take a genius to see you like her better,” said Russell, Colter rolling his eyes, an uncharacteristic move. “I’ll never ask you for a thing again. You never even have to speak to me. Think what you want about me. Just please do this for Y/N’s sake.”

“I already…” huffed Colter when you side eyed him with narrowed eyes. He let out a slow exhale. “Fine. You owe me, Russell. Big.”

“Colter,” you said, nodding towards his truck. You left Russell as he went back to taping the large cooler in the garage shut. You assumed he’d put Owen inside and cleaned up while you were gone at the store. The rain had paused momentarily but there was another batch of storms coming through soon. You sighed as you stopped next to the younger Shaw, Colter crossing his arms. “I’m not letting you do this. I know Russell asked but I can’t let you move a body for me.”

He narrowed his eyes, face turning into a scowl.

“I’m not moving…Russell!” Russ’ head popped up, Colter becoming increasingly annoyed. “Tell me what is going on right now or I swear you and me are done. Forever.”

Russell sighed, throwing his head back. “I may have lied about the Y/N wanting to tag along with you so she can tidy up her place in Virginia.”

“You what?” you asked, storming over to him. “You were trying to pawn me off on Colter again? For what! Owen’s dead, there’s no one left to bother me.”

“Sweetie,” said Russell, closing his eyes. “Owen should not have made it out alive and the fact he did isn’t good.”

Slowly Russell met your gaze, ignoring Colter behind you. “So is this how it’s going to be? Any time everything’s not perfect you’re going to drop me on your brothers doorstep at the drop of a hat? News flash, Colter isn’t my babysitter. I’m a grown woman who has seen and handled more crap than you know. I thought you didn’t think of me as a damsel.”

“I don’t but-”

“But you don’t want me around for the hard stuff. I got the message.”

“Y/N, someone else could still be left. They could kill you-” You held up your hand, Colter heading back to his truck to give you some space.

“I think I finally understand how you’re so perfect but alone. You live this life like you’re this happy go lucky guy but it’s a mask. All you actually see is the dark side of it. Of everything. You are more than happy to step into my dark side but you won’t let me see yours? You wouldn’t let me kill Owen. You won’t let me help clean it up. Even when it’s because of me. You have to always be the hero. Honestly, thinking about it, it’s been all my shit we’ve talked about. All you say is your got a dark past but you haven’t shared diddly squat. Is this how it’s going to be Russell? Because frankly, I want more than that. I told you I don’t need you to do things for me, I just need you to help me do them.”

Russell swallowed, face going stoic. “Maybe this was a mistake.”

Your heart dropped like a rock into the pit of your stomach, Russell’s jaw clenching. “You should pack up your stuff here and go with Colter. Go back to Virginia. You’re probably right. This was just attraction, plain and simple.”

“Russell, that’s not what I was saying-”

“Yeah, it was. Just go. Please. I’ll deal with Owen. Just go back to Virginia and start your life over away from people like us.” With that he brushed past you for Colter, ignoring his repeated calls.

“Asshole,” you mumbled as you went inside and shoved the few belongings that weren’t in the trunk of your car into a bag. You very purposefully left every pair of underwear, bra and pajamas he’d bought you behind. The cheap sports bra and cotton underwear you’d bought earlier would get you through until you were home.

If that’s how Russell wanted to end things, fine. You were free of the mafia. Free of guys with fucked up pasts. Your options were limitless.

And thank god Colter was smart enough to not ask about your red rimmed eyes by the time you were on the road.

Five Days Later

You gave Colter a wave from your front step as he drove off down the street. It’d taken only two days to drive cross country this time. Apparently you drove faster when you were upset. Or you didn’t sleep as much. Either way, Colter didn’t ask and was happy to get to Virginia where he had a missing accountant to find.

He used your kitchen as a base of operations and you let him crash in the guest room. In exchange, Colter got you hooked up with the basics of reward work. There were some extra perils to the job being a woman but also advantages that Colter didn’t have. He went over finding jobs, finding a team, learning how to get access to tools and databases. You didn’t have a lot of confidence in going after a full fledged disappearance yet but Colter mentioned it wasn’t always people that were what was missing.

By the end of his short stay, you had information overload but were grateful for the chance to start doing something good for once in your life.

Meanwhile, Russell hadn’t reached out once. You had to assume he’d disposed of Owen. You weren’t sure why you were still waiting for a text or a call. It was pretty clear things were over. Russell was too protective and you weren’t going to let another man tell you what to do again.

Yet, you knew you were at fault too. Russell had just killed a guy in his house for you and he knew a hell lot more about getting away with a murder than you did. Russell had points for not wanting to involve you. And you had to be an asshole and pressure him for more when there was literally a dead body at your feet.

“I’m an idiot,” you groaned, leaning against the kitchen island with your head lowered. “Why did I do that?”

The doorbell rang, your head slowly rising. You sighed as you went to it, pulling it open quickly.

“Did you forget-” You cut yourself off when you didn’t see Colter standing there. No, instead stood Russell in a trim black suit, his hair slicked back and a bouquet of orange and red flowers in his hands. “Russ? What-”

“Let me get this out and then I’ll get out of your life forever if that’s what you want,” he said. You leaned against the door jam, Russell taking a deep breath. “Y/N, I like you. A lot. Too much probably for how long we’ve known each other. Everything you said was right. I avoid my problems because it’s a hell of a lot easier to fix someone else’s in my experience.”

He swallowed, glancing at his feet. “Owen could have hurt you at that store. He could have taken you, shown up at the house and killed you. I fucked up and you don’t seem to understand that Owen’s obsession and how fucking smart you are is the only reason we’re still here and he’s not. I told you I took care of it and I didn’t. I was angry at myself and wanted you somewhere safer than with me so I pushed your buttons on purpose. I lied on purpose so you’d get mad and leave with Colter. You deserve a good man and I’m not him. I kill people. I use sex as a way to be close to women but then never let myself be in a relationship because I don’t want them to see beneath the surface and see the shit that’s in there. I want better for you than me.”

Russell looked up, a tiny smile forming on his face. “Can we try being friends again and maybe I can become that man that deserves you along the way?”

“Russell,” you sighed. You stepped forward, cupping his cheeks, green eyes full of caution. “We can be friends. I’d like it if we were more than that, though.”

He slowly smiled, his lip ticking up when you stroked his cheek.

“I’m sorry for jumping down your throat. You do not have to share your deepest darkest secrets with me, never mind the first day we’re actually together. That was unfair of me. I just want you to know you can share them with me if you want to.”

“I’ve killed a lot of people, Y/N,” he said softly. “Dozens. Some of them, most of them, I never gave two shits about. No nightmares. No trauma. That’s not normal. It’s been years since I’ve felt all that bad about killing.”

“You don’t need to feel bad about killing monsters,” you said. He closed his eyes and you leaned in, kissing his forehead. “S’that why you didn’t want me to kill Owen?”

“Moral and practical reasons,” he whispered. “I don’t kill out of revenge. I don’t think I ever have. It always has another purpose. Protect someone, protect a group or the general public from a threat. Some psych told me once that’s why I don’t struggle as much with what I’ve done as some other folks. The way I grew up helped me with that. But I do struggle with it still and you’ve struggled enough. You don’t need that on you.”

“I understand. I’m so used to being controlled and told what to do…I can never go back to that.”

“You never will,” he said, opening his eyes. You tilted your head, Russell turned into your touch to match. “I’m sure I’ll fuck things up again. We can be friends if that’s all you ever want.”

“I don’t want to be just friends. So what if we fight? That’s what couples do.” You took his hand in yours and the flowers in the other, leading him inside behind you.

“I quit my job a few days ago.” You froze, spinning around on your heels. He shrugged, still holding your hand. “I can’t change my life without making some changes.”

“You still want to do that home brew for a career?”

“Yeah. I’d like to give it a shot.” He spotted the stacks of papers on your kitchen table and open computer. “Colter offer you a spot on his team?”

“He did at first but I want to try doing it my way, stop patching up the bad guys and doing something good. He warned me it can be dangerous work though, especially as a woman flying solo.”

“He makes very good points,” said Russell, thumbing at your lip when you smiled. “What’s that look for?”

“Maybe you could be on my team sometimes, show me a few moves from the expert.” You started to walk backwards towards your bedroom, Russell’s eyebrows raising. “If you want to.”

“I’ll show you any kind of moves you’d like, qark.” He held his ground though, stopping you in place. You waited for the but to come, for him to push back on getting back together. Instead, he took the flowers from your hand and went into your kitchen, finding a tall glass and filling it with water. He set the flowers on the island before rejoining you, resting his hands on your hips. “I like the idea of working together as partners.”

“But…” you said, Russell kissing the top of your head.

“But you are far too kind, my queen of darkness. I was expecting to get told to get lost tonight and I have plans I can’t get out of with my friends very shortly.”

“Oh,” you said, Russell’s finger tips finding the ends of your hair and playing with a few strands. “If you have plans, we can meet up another-”

“You want to know my dark side?” Your eyes flicked to meet his, your head nodding once. “You can’t unknow what kind of man I am once you do. I don’t blame you if you change your mind about me.”

“I want to know you. All of you.” He closed his eyes and nodded.

“Go change into something discreet. Dark clothes. Leave your phone home. If at any point you want to leave, say so and I bring you right back here, understand?” You nodded, Russell backing away. “Mind if I change in your bathroom?”

“You can change in the bedroom with me.” He smirked but backed away.

“Another time. We have an appointment to keep.”

“Where are we going?” you asked, Russell glancing away.

“Don’t be mad but we need to pay Owen a visit.”

Twenty minutes later you quietly followed Russell into what looked like a decommission warehouse that should have been torn down a decade ago. The building was pitch black apart from the single light coming from the end of a hallway. You stuck behind Russell as you entered the room, stopping when you found six different men and a woman inside, most carrying a weapon on their hip or tucked into their jeans from what you could tell.

And smack in the center of the room tied to a chair was Owen very much still alive. Although…alive was being generous. He didn’t look more injured than when you’d last seen him but his color was off and his eyes were red and puffy. He wasn’t even angry when he saw you, just…scared.

“He behave while I was gone?” asked Russell to a man and woman nearby.

“Tried bribing Doug and then all of us to let him go,” said the woman. She gave Owen a nasty look before turning gentle as she looked towards Russell. “I think you scared the poor boy, Shaw.”

“Oh, who’s afraid of little old me?” said Russell, giving Owen a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “So. Owen, my friends. Friends, Owen. You’re already acquainted with Y/N.”

Owen’s gaze flickered to you when Russell grabbed a chair from the wall and sat it a few feet away from Owen, facing him. Russell sat down slowly, nodding when you moved closer so you could see both their faces.

“Why’s he still alive?” you asked quietly. Owen’s eyes widened, Russell tsking him.

“On me, big guy,” said Russell, snapping his fingers, Owen reluctantly looking at him. “You got some options. Prison. You die very quickly. Or…me and my friends can make sure you die very slowly. Your choice.”

“Why didn’t you kill him yet?” you asked again. Russell sighed, glancing down. “Russell.”

“There were some things that never sat right with me that I wanted answers to. The stuff with your family’s accident and your dad’s paranoia, him attacking you. I had a paranoid father too. I know the signs, know that they want to protect us in their own way. The coincidence of meeting someone just like me was too high so I started to dig. You mentioned Owen’s drugged you a few times in the past and tried to hurt you.”

“Yeah…I’m not following,” you said. Russell stood slowly, staring down Owen like a predator with it’s prey firmly caught in a trap.

“I figured if he drugged you, who else had he slipped something to? What good man, good doctor, could a prescription drug running family slip into his drinks? The more I researched, the more my friends helped, the more we found.” Russell clenched his fists by his side, knuckles turning white. “Should I tell her Owen? Or do you have the balls to tell her yourself?”

Russell ripped off the tape over his mouth, Owen wincing as he breathed deeply. Russell was on him like that, grabbing his throat, not squeezing but adding enough pressure that it was going to be uncomfortable. “I told you to talk, you sack of shit.”

“Y/N, this guys is lying. I never did anything to you!” Russell’s jaw clenched and you watched him squeeze, only backing off when you laid a gentle hand on Russell’s shoulder.

“He’s psycho!” said Owen, Russell backing up a step. You looked up to him, Russell’s face unreadable. “Y/N, baby-”

“Shut the fuck up before I stab you in your spine,” you said. Owen’s jaw snapped shut, a flicker of something in Russell’s eyes. Pride? Amusement? It quickly flittered away, replaced with worry when you held out a hand. “Can I have your knife?”

Russell slowly took it out of his pocket, handing the engraved handle out to you. You flicked it open and took a seat in the chair, holding it pointed down at the concrete floor.

“Owen. Tell me the truth and I won’t kill you. I swear. But I can get the answers from you if you don’t cooperate. Don’t make me get my boyfriend’s knife bloody.”

You heard a muttered damn from someone behind you, your focus on Owen. He sagged in his seat and closed his eyes.

“Our old fixer wanted out, wanted to go to the feds so my dad had him killed. I was eighteen and he told me to start earning my place as successor. He told me to find a new fixer. Your dad was one of the best doctors in the city. Things were…arranged. Two weeks later we-”

Russell smacked the back of his head. Hard. Owen grunted, shaking it out.

“Two weeks later I…put a hit on your family. Your mom and brother specifically. We only needed one kid to survive and I thought a girl would be easier to control. I started drugging your father that night with antipsychotics to create paranoia,” said Owen, his head hanging low. “I orchestrated the whole thing. We fed him the drugs for years, it made him stay close if not a little extreme. It kept taking more though.”

“Do. Not. Skip. Ahead,” growled Russell, grabbing a fistful of Owen’s shirt.

“O-okay. I-I…I started thinking about how to get your dad to stick around once you grew up and you were pretty and smart and I thought you’d be happy with me.”

“How old was she when you decided this?” barked Russell. Owen whimpered, trying to curl in on himself. “Fifteen you disgusting waste of space.”

“You started drugging me then,” you said. Owen shook his head.

“Not with that stuff. Just roofies. But not enough for you to be completely out of it. Your dad started keeping a closer eye on you and I tried waiting for you to come around on your own but it was so hard when you went away to college. I knew I couldn’t let you run off like that again so…” Owen’s shoulders shook, mouth snapping shut.

“So you roofied her, attacked her and she fought back. Her father protected her and you fucking killed him for it. Your dear old daddy found what you’d done and wasn’t happy, was he? He covered up your murder and blamed her father knowing Y/N wouldn’t remember a thing. Y/N was forced to go to med school and learn crap she didn’t want to all while daddy had you banished away from her. You tried to keep tabs on her but it wasn’t until dad died that you could finally take Y/N like you wanted. It’s pure fucking luck I showed up when I did to make sure that didn’t happen. Would you like to tell Y/N about the fucking padded door locks and bars on the window in her old room back at the house? About your plans for her?”

Russell grabbed Owen’s hair, forcing his head up. Owen was trembling, whispering apologies and saying how he didn’t mean it, over and over.

“So…you killed my family…and tried to assault me more than once over the years…and were planning on keeping me as a…pet in the house until I magically fell in love with you. I think that sums it up,” you said. You stood up, handing Russell his knife. “I’m not going to kill him.”

“Thank you,” sighed Owen in relief. “Thank you. I-I knew you’d be able to forgive me-”

“Oh, I don’t forgive you and I wouldn’t be thanking me,” you said, smiling up at Russell. ““Papa Elpine and a few guys made it out I heard. Bobby was his favorite son, right?”

“Y/N! I killed Bobby! They’ll-” Russell shoved some tape over his mouth and hummed.

You crossed your arms, Russell tilting his head at you. “You know they’re going to torture Owen to death.”

“I said I wouldn’t hurt him and I’m keeping my word,” you said, Owen shouting under the tape. “I’d tell you to confess but Elpine’s connected. He’d just have you killed in prison. So. Elpine it is.”

“You sure?” asked Russell. You pursed your lips, Owen pleading with his eyes. Everything in you wanted to say yes, let him get what he had coming.

So why couldn’t you say it?

You looked to Russell, nodding. “Get rid of him, please,” you mouthed.

“Look away,” said Russell. You turned around, Owen panting hard before there was a loud crack and the room was still. Russell’s hand found your shoulder, rubbing it softly. “We took care of Elpine’s guys. You know that.”

“I just wanted him to be as scared as I’ve been. I-I just…why’d it have to be my family?” You found his face, Russell smiling sadly.

“I’ve asked myself that question a lot over the years. Best I came up with is you got to try and let it go. The world’s good and bad and that’s all there is to it.” He wrapped his arm over your shoulder, walking you towards the door. You nearly looked back but he blocked you with his body. “No. He’s gone for good, you don’t need to give him anything more. I’m sorry for not killing him back in Washington. I just thought you deserved the truth. Your dad was a good man.”

“Thank you,” you said, closing your eyes. “I wish I realized that sooner.”

“Come on,” he said, walking you out to the hallway. “Let’s get you home.”

One Month Later

You smiled from your chair when Russell let out a single tiny snore from the couch across from you. He hadn’t gotten much sleep the past few days and honestly, it was kind of adorable the way this incredibly dangerous man made the cutest cooing noises while he slept.

“You’re staring at me,” he mumbled without opening his eyes a few minutes later. You looked around, holding up a finger. “I can feel you watching, like a creeper.”

“Well, you make these cute sounds when you sleep,” you said. He smirked, slowly flicking his lazy eyes open.

“And who’s fault is it that I haven’t been sleeping, hm?” You shrugged and slid down in your chair with your book, grinning behind the pages. “I can see that smile, you know that?”

“Don’t blame me for the amazing orgasms you give,” you said, flicking your eyes over the top of the book, Russell propping himself up on his elbows with a predatory gaze. “Down boy. Later.”

“You better,” he said, plopping back with a huff. “Remind me to never help Frank with a favor ever again.”

“Frank helped you with Owen,” you reminded him. Russell scoffed.

“All he did with Owen was stand there and look scary. I didn’t make him build a fucking deck in the pacific northwest in forty degree weather.”

“Aw, is baby boy cranky?” you teased. He growled, playfully tossing his pillow at you. “You guys should wrap up tomorrow, right?”

“That’s the plan. Then I’m going back to waking up at a humane hour,” he said, forcing himself to sit up and stretch out with a few grunts. “How long was I out?”

“About an hour and a half. You needed it,” you said, flipping a page. Russell glanced over to the dining table, taking in the decorated spread.

“You set a place for Colter?” he asked.

“Yes…right next to Dory’s,” you said, closing your book and setting it aside. “You still think he won’t come?”

“He’s not the kind of guy to come to a housewarming party. Especially his brother’s housewarming party. We still haven’t talked since…”

“I know,” you said, standing and pulling him to his feet. He was still sleepy as you ruffled his hair, Russell turning into the touch. “I’m excited to meet your friends and family properly.”

“They want to know all about you, that’s for sure,” he chuckled. “You can’t imagine the amount of shit they’ve given me after I said I’d never settle down.”

“I moved in a week ago. We’re a ways from settling down,” you said. He titled his head, smiling at you. “Don’t give me that face.”

“What face?” he teased, leaning in close, dipping his head, kissing under your jaw.

“Shaw! Do not give me a hickey! I do not want them seeing-” You sucked in a breath, brain going fuzzy when he nipped at the soft flesh.

“Too bad, qark. If I have to have hickeys all over my neck then so do you,” he said, suckling the skin. A buzzer went off in the kitchen and he groaned when you slipped away so the rolls wouldn’t burn. “Y/N…”

“Saved by the bell,” you said, taking out the pan and leaving them to cool off. Russell was by your side quickly, hands on your hips so you couldn’t escape. “Okay. How about you can give me as many hickeys as you want later if you’re a good boy this afternoon?”

“Hm, I do like being your good boy,” he said, squeezing your hips. “Deal.”

“Good. Where do you keep-“

The doorbell trilled, your heads turning towards the front windows. A familiar pickup truck was out front, Russell raising his eyebrows. You nodded for the door, Russell cautious as he answered. Colter stood on the front porch with an awkward forced smile and a pink box.

“I uh, picked up some dessert for dinner later,” he said offering the box. Russell took it, setting it aside on the front table. “You going to invite me in?”

“I thought you…” Russell shook his head and opened the door wider, letting his younger brother inside. Colter gave you a brief smile before clearing his throat.

“I uh, can help you get ready or cook. I just…last time we talked Russell…”

You smiled to yourself when Russell closed the gap between them, giving Colter a strong embrace. “Let's leave that shit behind us. Thanks for coming, Colt.”

“Yeah,” said Colter, returning it for a moment before the boys broke apart. “How’s the girlfriend situation working out for you?”

“I’m telling you man, find the right girl, you’ll never want to go back to being a loner,” said Russell, giving you a smirk. “They do come with a lot of rules though, fair warning.”

“I asked you to put the toilet seat down, Shaw,” you chided.

“Like I said, rules,” teased Russell. You picked up a knife by your cutting board, narrowing your eyes. “We should help before she starts using that on us.”

“Yes you should,” you said, Colter shrugging out of his jacket and boots, joining your side after washing up. “Can you cut up the veggies into strips?”

“Can do,” he said, swapping places with you. You smiled when Russell took the dessert box and started to arrange the treats on a platter over on the dinning table. “I’d like to apologize for my behavior the last time we were all here.”

You frowned as you peeled a bag of potatoes into a bowl. “You mean when I lost my cool on Russell? You have nothing to apologize for Colter. We were asking you for a favor. Again. I’m honestly surprised you don’t hate me. I know you value your alone time.”

Colter was quiet, chopping neatly and pushing the scraps into a discard bowl. “Did Russell ever tell you how he got that gunshot he went to you for in the first place?”

“Someone kidnapped Doug. He went to save him.”

“Did you know I helped him with that?” You shook your head, setting the peeler down. Colter had stopped dicing, a barely there smile crossing his face. “If it weren’t for my brother asking for my help with his friends, I’m not sure we ever would have spoke again.”

“I know there’s a complicated history there.” He hummed, watching Russell across the room. “It means a lot to him that you’re trying too.”

“S’all we can do is try, right?” he said, going back to his cutting. “So. My brother is clearly head over heels. What about you? Should I expect a wedding invitation soon?”

“Uh, no,” you said, laughing to yourself. “We’re certainly not traditional but we’re nowhere near ready for that. We’ll see how living together goes for awhile before we talk about anything like long term plans.”

“Yet you moved in already.” You rolled your eyes. “Just an observation.”

“For convenience sake. Russ is looking into land for the brewery around here since he left his job and apartments in town are limited.”

“Right. I’m sure that’s it. Silly me,” he said. You held up your peeler to him, Colter raising his hands. “Russ, I think I broke one of your girlfriend’s rules.”

“It was nice knowing ya,” said Russell with a chuckle. “Give him a swift death for me, qark.”

“Qark?” asked Colter as you turned your attention to the potatoes.

“Queen of darkness. Now hurry up with those so you and Russ can have some alone time before dinner.”

Six Hours Later

“This is going well,” said Russell to you in the kitchen as laughed and a smoky scent filtered in from the back porch. “Everyone really likes you.”

“I suppose I have met them all before, except for Dory. She’s such a sweetheart. I don’t know what I was expecting but-”

“She was much younger than us when our dad died. After she went to live with our aunt and uncle. She’s tough but normal in a way Colter and I won’t ever…” You rubbed his back, his strong arm wrapping around your waist to keep you close. “Did you like, drug him? Or bribe him? I seriously can’t believe he’s still here let alone came.”

“Of course he came. No matter what’s happened in the past, he loves his big brother.” Russell tucked you into his side, smiling when you rested your head on his shoulder. “I found a job in Wyoming. Missing prized show dog. I was going to head out in the morning, see if I’m any good at this.”

“You’ll be wonderful,” he said, kissing the top of your head. “Be safe though.”

“I will be.” You turned in his hold to face him, wrapping your arms around his back in a hug. “It’s been a long time since anyone cared if I was safe. It’s nice. This weird little family you have is…I’m jealous to be honest.”

“You shouldn’t be. It’s yours too.” You raised your eyebrows, Russell raising his own, eyes going wide. “No! No, I don’t mean like, officially yours. Like metaphorically. I’m not ready for anything official. Someday but so not right now.”

“Me either,” you said, the tension running out of his face. “I want to know who we are without our old jobs, how to be a happy queen of darkness.”

“We’ll figure it out together,” he said. “Speaking of which, I got you a present for helping organize all of this and cooking for ten people after literally just moving cross country. I know it was stressful so I wanted to make it up to you.”

“I don’t need a present, Russ,” you said, a sneaky smile forming on his face. “Oh. This is a present for the both of us.”

“I got you a new pair of jammies, the lilac set this time,” he said. Russell’s smile grew as yours did, his arms lifting you off the ground, bringing you to eye level. “You deserve all the good things in life, qark.”

“I think we got something pretty good starting right here,” you said, kissing him once, Russell humming.

“I couldn’t agree more, baby. Couldn’t agree more.”

__________

#Russell Shaw #Russell Shaw x reader #Russell Shaw x you #Russell Shaw Fanfic #Tracker #Tracker Fanfic #Russell Shaw Fanfiction #russell shaw fic #Russell Shaw x female!reader #Jensen Ackles #colter shaw #fanfic

204 notes · View notes

psychosimp17 · 8 months

Text

I can't adequately express how Shinkane coded this is to me... 😭🩵

#shinkane #akane tsunemori #shinya kogami #psycho-pass #tsunemori akane #kougami shinya #psycho pass #it hurts #the angst

4 notes · View notes

gotham-daydreams · 2 months

Note

So with friend!reader, when the batfam's obsession switches to them...personally I would never believe the batfam actually loves me, especially if I suffered at their hands. To me, it'd just be another trick to get me away from their original obsession. And if I ever did believe them? I would be terrified. If their obsession can switch once, then it can definitely switch again, and if I get kidnapped by them, I'd just constantly be on edge, waiting for them to become obsessed with someone new, and to kill me when that happens. Lots of potential for angst...

Agreed! And that's what I love about it too, especially as, again, when things do turn- you already have a pretty solid idea of what you're getting into and it's horrible.

I mean, can you imagine how uncanny it is? To see these people who were threatening your life, career, and basically anything they possibly could (which, considering the Batfam, is everything) - now not only act all buddy-buddy with you, but actually start to treat you like a human being??? Hell, maybe even more depending on the person. The real trick is trying to figure out if they're using you to get even closer to their obsession, trying to get you away, or both... they've always been hard to read, and now with their attention shifted to you, well, that definitely hasn't gotten any easier- at least you could tell when they were being outright malicious or not.

Then again, seeing is believing, no? But that may not even be enough, since, again, the reader in that scenario is basically an 'almost' victim of the Batfam. I think the really horror of it all is when they completely disregard or do away with their previous obsession. Either to 'prove' themself to you, or for some other but equally insane reason. Hell, it could even just be because they want to spend time with you instead, but considering the situation? They may as well have said something completely crazy.

And that's what I love about it! Once that switch comes, all of these little things that seem fine, minor, and or ridiculously small from an outsiders perspective (or even just, in any other situation besides this one) are now seen in a completely different light. Things that may seem or look innocent and nice, now have a whole new meaning to it as you know what it really means, and that is horrifying. Like, what do you mean that all of these psychos are my responsibility now? What do you mean that they feel as if they can't even live without me being in the room with them, or at arms length? What do you mean that they are my problem now? And not because they're trying to use me to get close to one of my friends, but rather because they want to spend time with me now? What happening to them hating me????

I feel like it'll definitely get to the point where you just kind of hope their obsession with fall on someone else, and you'll hopefully be able to take that opportunity to escape and just get the hell away from these freaks-

But imagine the horror when a small, threatening yet innocent thought creeps into your head that they won't. And as time passes... well... you're not exactly proven wrong. Especially not when you try to pull away and move on, only for them to pull you back, and rip away those closest to you just to have you. (totally not partially 'foreshadowing' by the way)

Though you are right!!! There are tons of potential for angst, and general conflict!

#talking daydreams #yandere batfam #never-ever after

197 notes · View notes

deanbrainrotwritings · 1 month

Text

— AN INTRODUCTION TO CREATIVE CAPTIVITY

SUMMARY : dean wants to know more about you and takes matters into his own hands when you don’t show up at his bakery. unreasonably, he doesn’t expect you to come back home early, but his mission was mostly successful.

PAIRING : vampire!dean winchester x fem!reader

CHARACTERS : none

WARNINGS/TAGS : explicit(18+), baker!dean, stalking (it’s only hot if dean does it), angst, unhealthy obsession, yandere!Dean, possessiveness, soft Dean, implied panty kink, creepiness escalates, nerdy reader, reader isn’t perfect, (vague) chronic illness, voyeurism, b&e, stealing, slow chapter, and more to come

WORD COUNT : 6.6k

A/N : this chapter will lead up to the square stockholm syndrome on my @jacklesversebingo card. no baking :’(. heheh, Dean’s a lot softer and way more caring than the typical psycho-yandere type maybe some of yall were thinking of. I did research on yandere types and yandere traits, and found that it’s completely acceptable! in fact, a soft yandere is preferred, LOL. xx

Over the years Dean found that the perks of being undead included not having to sleep. That meant there were no nightmares to haunt him.. and now, that he had all the time in the world to watch you, to research you, first.

You were a fluffy cloud of love that became his companion through the sleepless, endless night. He knew seeing you again would feel like an eternity had passed, so he indulged in thoughts of you to keep him company.

He was home now and he had nothing to do as the moon bled through the windows of the place he “lived” in. He laid in his bed, unable to shut his brain off for the pretence of a peaceful sleep that he enjoyed doing routinely ever since he was a… vampire.

His four hours of nothingness.

He had too much time on his hands.

He’d already read over a thousand books, watched over a thousand films and series, scrolled through the endless stream of videos on social media, and attempted to get good at hundreds of hobbies. What was the point of it anymore, after all?

Now, he thought of you. And that was the only point that made any sense to him. The only thing that mattered in his useless life. The only reason why he even wanted the sun to rise and bring another day.

If it meant that he was able to see you again. To know everything about your existence. Then, it all mattered. The world needed to keep spinning and the world needed to be safe, for you.

He took his phone from the nightstand and appreciated the wallpaper of his beautiful Impala. He was uncomfortably restless. He wanted to keep thinking of you, but he also wanted to shut his brain off. He couldn’t creep you out, it would ruin everything. He stared at the numbers telling the time, 1:24 AM.

You were probably asleep by now.

He wondered about you again. What position did you sleep in? What colour were your sheets? What was the texture of them? Did you use multiple blankets? Were you cold, often? Were your hands and feet always the only thing that was cold? Did you not suffer that way at all? Did you wear socks to sleep? What was the temperature of your home? Did you wear baggy clothes to sleep? Or something sexy? Or something cute? What was the colour of your walls? How did you decorate your home? Was it fun? Minimalistic? Did your house already smell like you again?

He cared so much about every tiny detail of your life and the place you called home. He itched to just get out of bed and find where you lived to see for himself.

But for now, he lifted himself up slightly to rest against the headboard of his bed and unlocked his phone to find you wherever he could. He felt embarrassed to do so, but he searched your name on every app, including the dating ones he never removed despite being… Well, he hadn’t had sex since he became a vampire. He was terrified of anything bad happening to the women he slept with.

The thought made him freeze. Would he lose control with you? Would he ever hurt you? His mind overflowed with images of your blood and him standing above you. He would die before he ever hurt you. He shook the thoughts away, remembering Lenore, and the handful of monsters that coexisted peacefully with humans.

He could be with you. You could be his.

You were all he could think about. It’s a shock that he hadn’t shoved his hands in his pants and pleasured himself just thinking of you. He would have, but he felt it would be disrespectful to you.

He did try to relieve himself with those sexy vampire women in the past, but he just didn’t feel any sort of attraction towards them because so few of them even cared about humans. It was unbecoming. They were arrogant, indifferent, and it wasn’t even sexy. He just couldn’t get it “up” with bloodsuckers. So, what? He was still prejudiced and all that. Whatever, he spent most of his time as a vampire still hunting.

He killed the entire nest and hunted down anyone that managed to slip through his fingers. He tried his hardest to keep being a hunter, with Sam’s brain protected with a wall, he had hope, a reason to keep going. But that was all gone, his family was gone: Sam, Cas.

When word spread that he was a vampire, and it did—like a nuclear bomb—the fallout was massive. Somehow, the fear of the Winchesters was hundred-fold, even though, in all his time as a vampire, Dean hadn’t slipped up even once.

He didn’t know how he did it.

He really just did.

He remembered the devouring thirst of being around humans when he was in the process of turning, while he looked for the leech that bled into his mouth for the cure Samuel and Sam were waiting to have confirmed. He could smell every human’s blood, taste the delicious quench of it in the air, and he somehow walked straight past every one. And when that one vamp opened the fridge to feed him a pick-me-up, the scent of it was overpowering, but never quite enough for his stubborn ass.

He declined and carried on with the mission, but the world had other plans for him. When he found the guy that turned him, of course he knew that Dean hadn’t fully turned; he was the leader of the nest, after all. He was smart and didn’t let Dean make any move unless he drained one of the women he didn’t find useful for the nest.

He refused but the leader of the nest didn’t take no for an answer, and once again, forced Dean to feed on one of the women in the cages. Dean remembered that way it felt, the taste of warm blood soothing the aching dryness in his throat. Dean had planned on biting the poor girl for show and collecting the blood in his mouth to spit it out later, but once it touched his tongue, the bloodlust took over.

He didn’t know what possessed him to stop. Maybe the way the girl whimpered, because she was just a girl. Or the way she pleaded for him to stop with her weak, cracked voice. The way her body slowly sank into him and crumbled limply, but he somehow managed to push her away from him.

She thanked him, even though she was still stuck being a blood bag for the nest. Dean felt guilty, even by just remembering how it all started. His soulless brother, his idiot best friend. How was anyone supposed to know how to handle that situation?

Dean grieved his human life. Having to abandon Lisa and Ben on top of it all. Then, his brother’s life. And finally, his best friend’s life.

Sure, Cas was the one who made the mess to begin with, but what was the point of friendship if you couldn’t forgive them for the worst of the worst? Obviously, there was a line, but with the type of life they lived, what Cas had done didn’t cross the line. After all, Cas tried to make amends, even if it was too late.

Dean could stay mad forever at Cas, but he was going to be ancient some day. What purpose would that hatred serve when everyone was dead? Forgiveness was all he had left to remind him he still had some semblance of humanity.

And right now, he needed to feel human. For you.

He was more relieved than he cared to admit when he didn’t find you on any dating apps. So, he deleted every single one after he got the answers he was hoping to not find there.

He hated that your Facebook was more dead than he was. You didn’t have your relationship status updated or your birthday published. There was nothing, just an old photo of you at some Korean restaurant. And even your family members’ accounts were as dry as his throat felt after going days without feeding. They revealed nothing, but he did find your friends: Bela Levante and Daphne Jordan.

But there was hardly anything to see about you on their profiles. God, woman, why did you have to hide yourself so hard?

He carefully scrolled through Instagram and groaned at another obstacle. Your account was private. He wished to stare at photos of you. The numbers on your profile teased him, he could see the amount of followers you had, the number of people you were following, and fuck… 43 posts he could be gazing at like a celebrity’s fanboy.

He wanted to see everything “private” about your life, your hobbies, flashes, glimpses of your life, pets—if you had any, and everything about your family. All the little things that would have slowly painted you on the empty canvas in his mind.

Dean shut his phone off with a sigh and stared up at the ceiling being illuminated with the moonlight, creating shadows from the tree that creaked outside by the window.

How was he supposed to feel about you? What was he supposed to do to get closer to you? Would you see him again the next morning? Or anytime after that? Would he see you in days? Weeks?

Would you think of him at all? Or would you be too busy with your life to do so? Did you even want to see him again? Did you feel the pull he felt towards you? Was he being delusional to think that there could possibly be something between you and him?

He’d have to take matters into his own hands if you prolonged appearing in his life. If he got dozens of women to like him before, there’s no reason why you wouldn’t want him in the same way. He just needed to play his cards right.

5 Days Later

Coming into your life was more difficult than Dean anticipated.

He went out more than he would have wanted, hoping to find you anywhere in town. So, you weren’t lying when you said you wouldn’t be available for the first couple of days or weeks in town as you tried to settle in. He hoped it was just something you said to avoid Andy.

At least he knew you weren’t lying about that.

He only saw you once three days ago at the grocery store. He watched you as subtly as he could, his eyes focused on your every move, his ears sharpened to your voice, every atom in his body was attuned to you, his nexus.

He wished he was standing there next to you, as your boyfriend, a lover, a partner, whatever. As long as you were only his. So he could watch your cute faces when you touched something that you didn’t like, or be there to laugh with you when you giggled at something you saw, or to be there to remind you of something you forgot and had to pull up the list on your phone. He wanted to know what it was like to have another conversation with you, about anything. Was that asking too much?

He didn’t get everything he’d planned on getting when he got there, but at least he had your plates and the car you drove. He wished he was brave enough to have talked to you, to pretend to bump into you. Although it wouldn’t have been much of an act, he really hadn’t expected to see you there.

But there was something raw and real about watching you while you were alone, and in your head as you walked through the most-likely unfamiliar grocery shop. When was the last time you stepped foot in there? You stared at the signs above each aisle with surprise when you’d walk in and didn’t find what you probably would have years ago.

He made his way to his car and thought of all the ways he could get you to be his. In any way that he could have you. All his ruminations and all his time was devoted to the goal of being with you. So much so that he felt like his entire life was on hold.

He knew it would start up again as soon as you entered his life. However, he hadn’t seen you—well, he hadn’t spoken to you in five days, and he wanted to respect you by letting you have your own space, but it was getting painful for him to be away from you for so long.

He waited to hear the beat of your heart or the sound of your voice being carried through the air and into his bakery, but he was only met with disappointment. Every time the door opened, he wished it was you walking in, he wished it was you smiling and flirting with him like every woman he regularly saw.

But you never showed up.

Did he make you up in his imagination? Was he that desperate to feel something? Were you real and simply uninterested in him? That thought hurt more than it should have. He thought he’d left a good impression on you, and after you left that hundred dollar bill, his mind didn’t allow him to believe you hated him. In fact, it was the only proof that you were real after all.

Why couldn’t you be as infatuated with him as he was with you? Why couldn’t you be as interested in him as the women who carved out time for him in their busy lives?

You were impossible to get close to. His fingertips barely tapped the surface of your life and like a fish, you swam quickly in the opposite direction to evade being captured by him. But didn’t you see you’d be better off with him? Happier? Freer? More loved than you could fathom? More loved than you could ever be with anyone else? More loved than you have ever been loved?

You were on his mind every moment of every day since he met you. Was he nothing to you? How would you feel knowing that everything new he baked was because you had inspired him in his daydreams. He wished he could ask you how it tasted, what you liked, if he should make more of whatever new invention he had created. If he should add it to the menu. He’d make them all again for you to try them and give him these insights and suggestions.

Mostly, he needed to know more about you. He just couldn’t bear the thought of you being a mystery. Or the fact that you’d never let him into your life to know the things that you inhibited within the safety of your home. Would the things in your house reveal your psyche? That’s all he wanted, to worm his way into you by knowing these things about you.

Sure, he could be himself, but he needed an advantage first. He needed time with you where it wasn’t obvious he was imposing himself on your life without reason. Where could he accidentally or coincidentally find himself in order to spend time with you? So that it could all fall together perfectly as he has fantasised every waking moment of his existence since he met you.

He could only acquire that information by infiltrating your home.

Dean didn’t expect this.

It was all he could think when he tracked down your scent to where you lived—and he relaxed when he didn’t find your car parked in the driveway in front of your home.

He blinked.

He was astonished as he gawked at your home. The light of the stunning peach sunset was reflected on the tinted glass that made up the outer walls of your home. Those glass windows, from floor to ceiling, also reflected the breathtaking forest surrounding the area. How convenient that your house was surrounded by thick green trees.

He stepped closer to your home to the surrounding area, the giant space that was entirely yours. There were a few plants, and despite being grateful about the lack of surveillance, he clicked his tongue in disapproval at the lack of it.

You needed to be safe.

He’d have to check out the glass, make sure it was shatter proof and bulletproof—even though there was no reason why your house should be armed against anything like that. He needed to make sure no creeps had made their way to your home, squatters or even people who may be infatuated with you.

You hypocrite, part of his brain accused. But he huffed, pouting and narrowing his eyes straight ahead at the reflection of himself, scolding his brain for trying to compare him to those who were more selfish and probably more dangerous than him. He pushed the small voice that reminded him that there was nothing scarier or more dangerous than a bloodsucker being around a human.

Dean pushed every thought away and had to quickly become familiar with the outside of your home before deciding it was safe to enter, to really get to know you.

Were you going to clean this whole place by yourself? Did you have someone else do it? Did you cook? Or did someone else do that for you, too? He needed to know. How much freedom did he have to be in your home whenever it suited him?

He made his way to the porch and brushed his fingertips against the lock of your door. He may not have had a heart to race at the thought of being where you always were, where you felt safest, but his body still thrummed and tingled with excitement.

Dean searched his jacket for the pick-set he carried in the inner pocket over his chest. He thought about how he hadn’t picked locks in a while. He didn’t have any reasons to, just the occasional need for it if he caught a case nearby. And ever since he became a vampire, he found that it was easier than before, easier to listen for the clicks of each pin falling as he slowly turned and prodded with his tools.

He apologised to you under his breath once the door unlocked.

He shoved the pick-set back into his jacket pocket while standing at the entrance of your home, and deeply inhaled the scent of you rushing outwards to greet him. Yes.

He stepped inside and closed the door behind him, surprised by the emptiness and the smell of newness that mingled with your sweet aroma.

You were still way behind on unpacking.

He found a shoe rack by the entrance and decided to respect your house rules by kicking off his boots and placing them neatly into an empty spot. So, that’s what it would look like if this were his home, too? His shoes, right next to yours. It looked right.

He curled his toes inside his socks, feeling the cool floor against his already cold skin and smiled. He shrugged off his jacket and hung it up at the coat rack, making himself at home. He could pretend for a few hours that this was how it always was.

He stepped deeper into your home, looked around and deflated.

There wasn’t much to explore. Most rooms he walked into were empty, or they had boxes that had yet to be opened by you. Maybe it would scare you if he tried to help by taking everything out, so he left the boxes as you had them.

Why hadn’t you made yourself at home? It’s been days and you haven't really done much. Was this just part of your indifference or was this because of the secret illness you had? Were you that busy with work? You were pretty vague about it when you were talking to Andy.

For now, Dean sighed, he knew nothing.

There was no indication of what was to be your living room. No furniture, no television, no tables. Unless he opened the boxes to peek inside and find out what each room would be, he would have to wait until you got to it yourself.

At least your kitchen was easy to explore. Though most of the cabinets were empty. Only three glasses, four plates, two bowls… God, woman. Should he get you some things? He shook his head and quickly pulled open every door and drawer to peek inside the completely uninteresting contents.

But finally, he got to your pantry. You had lots of snacks. Dean chuckled at the type of organisation that you had put them in. By colour. He smiled and reached out to touch them. He missed being hungry for this type of stuff, not that it stopped him from indulging in it every now and then anyway.

His brain nagged him: Which ones were your favourite? Well, he had to guess that they were all your favourite to some extent. But maybe it was the Rice Krispies, they were nearly all gone. There were some spicy peanuts, too, and some other spicy, but still sweet, Mexican candies he had tried before—some, he hadn’t tried at all.

His mouth would have watered if he were still alive.

He snorted, moved on to read each package and box; he needed to try whatever he hadn’t already tried before, just to see if he could have that in common with you.

He didn't have to, but he wanted to be able to say: I have tried it before. At least. Maybe that would mean something to you, maybe it would matter. On the other hand, he already had a lot in common with you—in terms of preference for snacks. He liked your taste.

He shut the pantry door and opened your fridge.

He pulled out the freezer and lifted a brow at the lack of contents. No frozen, microwaveable food. Just vanilla ice cream, some shrimp, salmon, halibut, and steak. That’s it? He frowned. Did you rarely eat at home or did you already cook whatever else could’ve filled your refrigerator? Maybe he was overthinking it; you looked healthy when he met you and when he saw you at the grocery. But looks could be deceiving—you were sick after all, and he had yet to find out what you had.

Is that why you became a geneticist? Was your disease genetic?

He closed the freezer and opened the horizontal middle door. He found two bottles of mineral water, four bottles of water, and one can of Sprite. Was there any point to the giant refrigerator if you hardly used it? He snickered.

After he finished checking out the kitchen—and after washing a bowl with traces of Greek yoghurt, honey, and oats and the spoon you’d used—he began making his way to the next room, trying to find more information about you.

He made a mental note of the softener and detergent you used for laundry and all the other cleaning materials you kept in the laundry room. He checked out the washing machine and dryer to make sure they worked properly—so you wouldn’t have to struggle.

He frowned the whole time. He wouldn’t be bumping into you at the laundromat, that was slightly disappointing to think about.

He made his way upstairs, giddy to find your bedroom once he got to the top of the stairs. He held his breath in anticipation after opening each door down the long hallway, always to an empty room, but he exhaled when finally found your room.

Your scent embraced him when he opened your bedroom door. Now, he’d definitely find out things about you that were much more interesting. Much more intimate.

He was thorough with his search.

He checked out every item on your shelves and your desk, your figurines and other collectibles. He took a picture of your bookcase to become familiar with your books the next time he visited the library. He opened each drawer and your dresser to review the contents thoroughly, your clothes and keepsakes and trinkets hidden beneath—and stole a pair of your underwear as he bit his lip; he knew it was wrong.

He made sure to steal your pink lace underwear that didn’t match with a bra you owned. He easily discovered which bras weren’t part of a set and memorised your cup size. You chose comfort over sexiness—even the sexy lace you owned looked comfortable. You were so cute.

He turned to your closet and examined every article of clothing—which was organised by colour as well. From sexy to cute dresses, old and new t-shirts, sexy and cute cropped shirts, and so much more he wanted to see you wear for himself. He found a few of your scrubs and imagined the way they’d hug your curves, even if they were hidden below a lab coat. You were so sexy. So fucking hot, he couldn’t believe he was touching the things you’d wear at some point.

He went through your shoes to memorise your foot size, but made a mental note of your favourite type of footwear.

He closed the door and looked over your vanity desk and the limited amount of makeup. Mostly, you had hair products. Gel to enhance the volume, different brushes for different uses, a multi-use hair dryer or something like that, cute hair ties and hair clips and a small bundle of what he’d label as boring; they were just brown, black, and tan hair ties.

He slipped a brown hair tie onto his wrist—one that was loose from usage. He pocketed the mini-lotion bottle that was half-empty—a miniature version of the larger bottle you owned. And after peaking through your extensive jewellery collection, he stole a thin silver necklace with a cute little charm.

He searched your nightstand, glanced at your cute lamp, a small mirror, a water bottle and a pill bottle. At the sight of the orange container containing a month’s worth of medication, he instantly picked it up and snapped a quick picture of the name to do research later. He wanted to look out for you.

He opened your password-locked laptop and the tablet beneath. He wouldn’t be getting into those anytime soon. He had no idea what your password could be or what set of numbers mattered to you. It was frustrating.

He opened the single drawer and pursed his lips—amused. God, you were so naughty. But you did live alone, why would you hide it? It's not like you knew he’d be inspecting every object you owned.

Dean leered at each sex toy with a smirk and imagined—the fact that you probably used them more than once fueled his daydreams—the way you’d pleasure yourself with them. How many times could you come? Which toy was your favourite? Who did you fantasise about when you were in the midst of immense pleasure? He hoped it was someone unattainable or fictional.

His hand twitched at the metal handle he’d pulled to open up the drawer. He was tempted to touch and kiss each toy that had at some point touched the depths and outer skin of your sweet pussy. But he exhaled shakily and closed the weakly concealed Pandora’s Box to move on with his investigation of your life.

He checked the bottom space of your nightstand, open to the world. He found an extensive collection of sticker sheets and sticker books, empty A6 notebooks, one that was full, and another that was halfway worked through. He pulled the two of them out, but turned his attention to your bed.

His mind inquired things he simply couldn’t figure out without you telling him. Did you pleasure yourself here? Do you ever pleasure yourself on the chair of your writing desk? Or the backless seat of your vanity desk? Did you plan on doing it downstairs on a couch you’d set up in the future?

He slid his hand down the soft cotton sheets of your bed and picked up one of your silk pillows, accidentally knocking off a weighted dinosaur and a tiny shark the size of his palm that rested on its back. The other small stuffed animals remained undisturbed as he lifted your pillow to his face and inhaled slowly, deeply the scent of your shampoo, softener, and detergent.

He sighed softly, eyes closed. You smelled so good, he could probably bite you if you let him. He’d never want to purposely hurt you. He just needed to feel you.

He pulled your pillow away from his lips and nose to fix it back in place along with your woolly companions and blindly set down the two books he’d begin reading once he was done with his exploration.

Was this the same bed and the same sheets you’d slept in when you were a teenager? Were you as horny as he was at that age? Did you sleep with anyone at any point in your life—on these very sheets? Were they new? New as in bought here once you moved in? Were these the ones you used when you left home to go to university?

Maybe he shouldn’t be thinking of that.

He stomped away to your bathroom and rifled through over-the-counter medication behind the mirror—allergy pills, Benadryl cream, ibuprofen. He found your pink with green toothbrush, your toothpaste, floss, and mouthwash. He quickly glanced at the shrinking bar of honey-coloured soap by the sink inside a small bowl.

He rubbed his fingers against the beige hand towel and then your olive-coloured towel by the shower door. He inspected the scent and brand of your shampoo, body wash, face washes, and conditioner.

Why was he so drawn to learn all these things about you? He never cared about any of these things before. Sure, to some extent he tried to learn stuff about Cassie and Lisa, but never like this. Why couldn’t he take it slowly? Couldn’t he be normal about you? You were just a woman. Just a woman who made every withering seed suddenly bloom in his desiccated heart and desolate soul. Of course he’d turn to you, like a sunflower turning toward the Sun. It was his destiny, one he wouldn’t dream of fighting.

He returned to your bedroom and slowly plopped down on your bed. He smiled instantly, swallowed by your soft mattress, and laid down on your pillows with your notebooks in his lap. He lifted the one that was full and became wrapped up in the story of your life.

He was only partially disappointed that you’d only begun writing a year before. He only knew about that and still nothing of your past. Only through subtext and vague statements could he decipher events of your past life. And every now and then, something would bring up the past and that’s how he discovered small details about you.

Inside your half-filled journal, he found your work schedule.

“Residency,” he mumbled and glared at the extensive, ridiculous hours listed for you to work. No wonder he hardly ever saw you. No wonder you were so behind on unpacking.

Dean’s ears perked up when he heard rocks and dirt crunching beneath tires. His heart would have stopped if it were beating and his blood would’ve run cold if it still ran through his body. He was instantly at the window of your bedroom watching you drive towards the house.

“Oh, fuck,” Dean muttered, watching as your car pulled up into the driveway. “Shit! Shit! Shit!” He scurried to shove your books back into place before legging it downstairs to retrieve his jacket and shoes and panicked momentarily. He wasn’t ready to leave yet!

Did he touch anything else? Did he move something he wasn’t supposed to? He was so enthralled with his expedition around your home that he’d completely blanked out anything he should’ve been mindful of.

He made his way back upstairs and quickly threw his shoes and jacket into the farthest empty room down the hall. There’s no reason you’d check out every room. Were you paranoid? Wait, he hadn’t accounted for this. Damn it, he was way in over his head.

It was too late. You were already making your way up to your porch. Dean could hear your quiet sigh, the sleepiness of it made him feel warm—at least the illusion of it.

He quickly rid the bed of the form his body had made atop your sheets by pulling carefully at the edges and smoothing his hand over the wrinkles that remained until your bed looked untouched once more.

Dean’s ears perked up at the sound of your car keys and your shoes being kicked off carelessly. Dean was suddenly excited to see what you wore. So, we should hide? his mind questioned. We? Dean scowled and looked around before picking the cliché of all hiding places: the closet.

It felt like an eternity before you began to make your way upstairs.

Much to Dean’s dismay, you’d discarded your lab coat at the coat rack, so he wouldn’t be fulfilling his fantasy tonight. But he could hear the material of your scrubs brush against itself as you shuffled lazily up the stairs and into the hallway leading up to your bedroom.

Your door creaked open, you stretched, and then began to push your pants down your legs. Dean’s eyebrows shot up and he leaned forward to gently prod the closet door open enough to watch your black scrubs get pushed down your bare legs.

You kicked them off along with your socks and left them on the floor to lift your shirt up. Beneath it, you wore a grey thermal shirt. Dean watched, his mouth parched suddenly as your body stretched upwards, just in your violet coloured underwear.

He bit his lip to stop himself from saying something under his breath about how sexy you were. He couldn’t risk you somehow hearing him. But soon, you were completely naked.

Dean peered lewdly at your bare body. The way your hair came loose over your shoulders to brush against your warm skin, the shape of your breasts, the way you shivered and your nipples tightened as you collected your clothes to throw it into the hamper. Your proportions and the entire beauty of you captivated him.

He wanted to fuck you, yes, but he also wanted to know what it felt like to hold the elegant dip of your waist. To know what it felt like for your body to curve up and mould itself into his body when you hugged him. To know how your fingers felt when they were weaved through his, as you had sown yourself into his dead heart to give him the illusion of life, of warmth.

What did it feel like to cup the back of your head when he kissed you? Or to hold your jaw as he tilted your head for the perfect angle to kiss in? What did your fingers feel like when they skimmed over his cold skin and twisted into his hair when you got lost in the kiss?

What did your mouth taste like if his tongue brushed against yours? What did your plush lips feel like against his? Where would your lips trail off to and how would you kiss him?

Dean was dazed at his vivid fantasy and then you disappeared into the bathroom and he finally ripped himself from the perfect twill of his daydream. Disheartened, he leaned into your clothes, sinking deeper into your closet and briefly relaxed as your soft clothes overwhelmed his senses.

Dean considered leaving now that you were home. He sort of got what he wanted, information about you. The rest of your house may have been mostly empty, but your bedroom wasn’t. And your bedroom revealed more about you to him than the rest of your home would have.

Still, maybe you’d get on your laptop and he could discern your password. Yeah, that would definitely be ideal. He could stay in the closet. There was nowhere else he could hide and the bottom of the bed was pretty useless. Besides, there was no reason you’d check in here, none at all.

He waited thirty minutes for you, on his phone looking up what he could about your medication. He learned quickly the side effects, what not to take with your medication, when the best time was to take it. Then moved on to the minuscule list of diseases the medication was used to treat.

He was thrown deep into the research, reminding him of the days when he would have to search things through libraries and files for lore on monsters and to brief himself on the case he’d taken. It wasn’t too different: he wanted to get closer, he wanted to solve you. The only difference was you weren’t dangerous and you were beautiful, and he actually felt motivated to willingly delve further into the rabbit hole that was your life.

The shower turned off and Dean shut off his phone.

It wasn’t long before you walked out of the bathroom and Dean moved closer to the closet door, peeking between the small crack as you walked into your bedroom. You were patting your hair dry with a smaller towel and had your back to him.

You threw the small towel successfully into the hamper and sighed exhaustedly. You were so silent. He wondered if it was only because of the fatigue of your job or if you always wordlessly completed tasks.

He would only know once you completed your residency. Or if he found you on a day where you didn’t have to work. But he didn’t think you’d have the energy to go out, even on a weekend or vacation, after working such laborious hours.

He continued to watch you expectantly as you made your way to your dresser where your underwear was, he watched you sift through the neatly organised garments before you plucked something out and then your towel came undone slightly.

“Stupid fuck,” you muttered angrily and adjusted it. He grinned at your short temperament, but he wished you’d just let it fall completely so he could see you again. You bent over and looked through your sock drawer, picked a comfortable pair and finally pulled the towel from your body and threw it over to the hamper where it only made itself halfway in.

Dean bit his lip at the sight of your ass; he traced the long divot of your spine down your back and the curve of your waist with his gluttonous eyes. He mouthed a ‘wow’ and licked his lips as you slid your underwear carefully up your legs.

You picked out a tank top and matching pants from the middle drawers and made your way to your bed with your socks in hand. So you did sleep with socks on. Ankle socks, fluffy loose ones with pink and white patterns.

You lazily lifted your sheets, your expression more somnolent than he expected. Your feet, covered in clean socks, hid beneath your thick warm sheets. Your whole body was covered and your cheek pressed into the same pillow he’d grabbed.

He waited as your breathing slowed, faster than he expected, you were out. Your mind shut off, tired from long hours of work. He envied you for a moment and then allowed his affection for you to bloom in his chest as he pushed the closet door open and shut behind him.

He made his way to you carefully, and watched your peaceful expression. You lips were parted slightly and your breathing was so low and deep that your heart slowed down serenely.

He considered kissing you as you slept, but he’d rather have your consent when you’re awake some day; that’d really show him that you wanted him.

Instead, he pressed his lips to your jaw, then dragged them hungrily to your quiet, gentle pulse and kissed you there. His lips lingered, promising the blood that would travel to your heart, that one day, it would be all his.

-> life ain't easy when you're a mythical creature

taglist

@rominaszh // @livingdeadmak // @lanassmarty // @murdockscumsock // @zepskies

@candy-coated-misery0731 // @stxrgazer03 // @epsilonsagittarii // @lyarr24 // @spnfamily-j2

@globetrotter28 // @deansbbyx // @lickmybawls // @jackles010378 // @winchstrdean

@deanwinchestersgirl87 // @the-achievementhunter // @deanfreakingwinchester // @k-slla // @madzzz0797

@laylaackles // @fanfic-n-tabulous // @kristophalis // @mrlonelycat // @taylortots-world

@evznackles // @ohnosy // @angelbabyyy99 // @girls-alias // @kezibear

@kaleldobrev // @iwishiwasntreal // @blackcherrywhiskey // @dayhsdreaming @littlemadamred

@xshortputax // @il0vebeingdelulu // @isadumbass // @take-it-on-the-run // @impala1967rollingthroughtown

@pasteldecrack // @imsapphine // @gravesphillip // @illicithallways // @saturnsooya

@vyctorya // @deanwinchesters67impala // @jgdhmeynsgn // @cheyennep3107 // @lovelystoriesaj

@deanbutwithmommyissues // @pieandmonsters // @simpfordeanwinchester03 // @klaus-mikaelsonslut // @daisydark

@hobby27 // @devilslittlehelper // @forever-sleepy00 // @pascalsdarlin

or follow @deanbrainrotlibrary for fic notifications

main masterlist

the pros and cons of breathing masterlist

dean winchester masterlist

do not steal, plagiarise, translate, or republish my work on another platform

#jacklesversebingo23 #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean x female!reader #dean x reader #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x female!reader #dean x you #dean x y/n

159 notes · View notes

lets-get-kraken-boys · 15 hours

Text

Gojo and Geto with bad bitch Chubby Reader

Guys, I tried to avoid being a Gojo stan...I tried so hard to hate him...but the pull was too strong. He got my ass. He's too silly. He's too cute the little shit. He's too perfect. Geto's great too before he lost his shit and went psycho the two are just too great to pass up.

2024 WILL BE THE YEAR THAT I GET YOU BITCHES TO PREACH STRONG, CONFIDENT, INDEPENDENT but not too independent bc these men are still yummy af CHUBBY READER! No longer will I be insecure about my weight because these men LOVE to see me coming AND going, I can tell you that.

WARNING: Fatphobia (happens when first meeting Gojo & Geto—they’re teens trying to bully Reader, but she handles herself because they’re idiots), A little angst with the small amount of bullying but I hope I made up for it, Cursing

✧༺♥༻✧

Imagine you, Gojo, Geto, and Shoko being classmates and friends during their schooling at Jujutsu High. All of you are powerful threats not to be taken lightly. The boys were undoubtedly freaks of nature with how strong they were—though, you had doubled over laughing alongside Shoko a couple of times when you heard them deem themselves "the strongest duo", as if they were some cool loner wolf types. Shoko was a master in the medicinal field; she made any injury look like a breeze to clean. She'd stitch them up no problem with her cursed energy and send them merrily on their way with a swift kick to their backside.

You definitely have more proficiency with cursed energy usage for combat more so than healing, but you could manage healing yourself just fine. You’d been born into a clan, not as highly revered as the Zenin or Gojo clans but still notable, so you’ve been taught from an early age how to wield cursed energy. Sacrificing yourself for the greater good of the world has been drilled into your head since birth, and you agreed with it. The world’s innocence needs to be protected from the cursed dangers life creates. Sure, there are bad people in the world, but the good people make life worth living. At least, that’s what you choose to believe.

While you’re just a normal—aside from the slight infinite power and jaw-dropping strength—girl, you are different in one more physical way. You’re chubbier than most, and not by a small bit.

Are you insecure about it?

Hell fucking no!

You’re a bad bitch. Fantastic face, banging body, stunning smile, bright eyes, a kind but strong heart, and even a cute butt to top it off. You knew this world inside out with how cruel it could be to plus sized folk, and while you took the beating for far too long without fighting back, you took a couple of steps back a few years ago to look at the situation. Why let people push you around like you didn’t matter? Why let them speak to you like you’re lesser than them simply because you weigh more? You were done being talked to like you were filth underneath their boots.

Since that new perspective, you’ve chosen the road of self love and hands rated E for everyone. You’re kind and sweet to those who reciprocate the respect. To those who try you, you beat their asses with a smile. “Education on Human Decency” is what you’ve begun to call the smackdowns since many want to try casting judgment in snide remarks or sneering looks. They can try these hands instead :)

That’s where Jujutsu High and the headaches you know as Gojo Satoru and Geto Suguru fit into this philosophy of yours.

You were homeschooled by your clan in the first year of your sorcery high school. Though, after much begging for a change of scenery and yearning for social interactions other than your family and neighbors, they allowed you to go to a high school centered on jujutsu sorcery the next school year.

When you started Jujutsu High in your second year, that is where you met Shoko, Gojo, and Geto, your classmates. The first thought to cross your mind was how small this crowd was. Sure, it wasn’t like the classes you’ve had before had many students in them either; the world of curses and cursed energy wasn’t exactly a booming population to start with, especially when every year is the same class roster composed of the few brothers and sisters you had. Considering that, three new faces was much better than before! You introduced yourself with a joyful tone and an eager handshake.

You started with Shoko since she was the only other girl. You’re glad you did. Shoko, who you originally thought would be tricky to get along with since she gave off “rebel” vibes with that unlit cigarette dangling from her lips and you were nothing of the sort, held a grin and took your handshake with grace. She told you she liked your spunk, that it was nice to be around another girl rather than more stinking boys. You agreed with her with a relieved sigh. You two shared a laugh and chatted some more, each of you discussing your thoughts of the school and figuring out your mutual interests.

Soon enough, you were interrupted by someone giving a very noticeable and forced cough behind you. You turned and were met with two boys, one with jet black hair and a sly grin and the other one with silvery moonlight colored strands sharing the same expression hidden behind circular sunglasses. The white haired boy was leaning heavily on the black haired boy with one arm propped on his shoulder as the black-haired boy crossed his arms in front of himself. Seems like the two are close. No matter.

You stuck your hand out, another smile—admittedly, this one was a little more forced than the one you shared with Shoko—and gave your name. Suguru was the first to bite. He grabbed your hand with a smooth, warm grip, and exchanged his name. His shake felt sincere, though the cunning smirk still laid on his lips.

You tried to shake the other boy’s hand after letting Suguru go, but he decided otherwise. He swiftly with no mercy said he wasn’t going to shake hands with the likes of “you”. You raised an eyebrow, already sensing the insult he would try to hurl at you. One thing bullies are is predictable. None of them have any creative bone in their body, they’re like leeches, in a way. Mooching off other clever remarks they’ve heard used before through the Internet or their idiot friends. Though, they alway reproduce it much shitter than the first time they heard it.

He leaned in with a smile and yapped about how if he touches you, some of your fat might rub off on him. Gojo tries to drag Geto into bullying you too by shamelessly asking if Geto is worried that will happen to him now that he’s so brazenly touched you. As much as you wanted Suguru to be his own person, to be better than the loser clinging to him like a koala, he chimed in that while Gojo’s afraid of that, that that could never happen to him. He sneered while looking down at you that he actually has the discipline to keep the weight off. The two of them share an evil snicker together.

Oh, so that’s how they wanna play it.

Okay. You don’t mind showing a bitch their place.

As Shoko pipes up and tells them to shut the hell up, you stop her. You give her a kind smile that says “I love you, but please back the fuck up as I rock these bitches world”. Her eyebrows jump up in surprise, but she gives you a nod. She quiets down.

You choose to laugh with them. They slowly shut their mouths, finding laughing at you not that funny when you don’t crumple under their taunts like they’d expected. You then explain to them that what you find so funny is that punks like them are so easy to read and, subsequently, ruin. You told them they need to find better insults to steal if they wanna cackle like they’re some kind of drunk hyenas and, unless they get more creative, they’re not worth the air they take from others. You turned to walk away, but since you just couldn’t help yourself, you gave the both of them a swift kick to the chest. Unprepared for the action, they both were sent careening back, but remained standing. You also snarkily nagged that being “undisciplined in weight loss” gave you the extra weight to knock their scrawny asses back that far.

Shoko gave you a hearty high five while laughing at them getting what they deserve. Gojo, though baffled at your defiance, is ready to start throwing punches, as he spews half-assed insults left and right. Geto manages to keep his thoughts to himself, but you do note his expression has definitely become sour. This little scrap is swiftly interrupted by your new teacher, Masamichi Yaga, when he enters and orders the class to settle down. He also snuffs Gojo’s babbling tantrum with a merciless smack to his forehead.

You give a small grin stuck your tongue out at the two when Mr. Masamichi turned his back. From then on, it was war.

You, Geto, and Gojo fought constantly in the beginning

When they (mostly Gojo now) tried to stir shit with you, you’d fling their rudeness right back at them

Whether they tried to pick on your weight, or cheery personality, or strength (which they couldn’t make too much fun off since you were only a little less strong than they were, but so was everyone else compared to their insane powers), you were always ready to kick their asses

You didn’t resent them for their teasing, mostly since you had a good head on your shoulders and you know that Gojo’s only deflecting all the shit he hates about himself onto other people, but they sure got on your nerves sometimes

So, you decided soon into your acquaintance with these dopes that instead of simply beating their asses every time they said some wack shit and never correcting the behavior, you’re going put an end to their bullying of based on others appearances

Because, who knows. You have enough self love and confidence to defend yourself against their rude remarks, but not everyone does. What happens if they target other plus sized people who maybe can’t or won’t defend themselves?

So, when they’d try to make fun of you, you’d correct them with sincerity and help them understand why that would hurt to someone

Geto pretty much never made a passing comment like that again towards you. You’re happy to see that change in him

Gojo huffed and puffed after what he called “your lecture”, but you also saw change in him

After that, it was slow progress to all be friends

Shoko and you were doing great! Hanging out outside of school, dragging her along with you to do some window shopping, eating a sit down lunch together, going to the nearest bookstore, grabbing a yummy sweet treat, stargazing—you did it all together!

She always made a fuss that she had “no interest” in what you would force her to do, but you could secretly tell she liked doing girly stuff together. As long as she could have a smoke break in between these hang outs, she was all good

The first time you, Geto, and Gojo made a recovery in your rocky relationship was when they asked if they could come along with the two of you to get a treat together

You were a bit hesitant to share the thing that brings you joy with the two people who tried to make you the butt of the joke, but you threw them bone and agreed

You four walked down the sidewalk, mostly you chit chatting with Shoko, when Gojo butted his way into the conversation at your mention of Kikufuku.

You and him bonded over your mutual love of the delicate, bouncy sweet treat and you watched as his eyes sparkled like a little kid when you said the place you were going to had an excellent Kikufuku

You know, when Gojo isn’t being a menace, he’s actually nice to share a conversation with

Geto teased Gojo for his astounding sweet tooth, and explained to you an embarrassing story of Gojo losing his mind one time when a dog stole one of his dorayaki treats and ran off

You laughed as Gojo tried to hit Geto as payback for sharing the “secret” but Geto fended off his flailing

Maybe I'll come back to this idea one day when I'm not hung up on the bullying. If you guys like this idea, I might continue it with less bullying. I am a baby when it comes to angst lol. I really do love these boys, I just don't think my heart is ready for the subject matter I wrote.

✧༺♥༻✧

#GIVE US STRONG INDEPENDENT CONFIDENT CHUBBY READERS #x reader #chubby reader #plus size reader #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jjk x chubby reader #jjk x plus size reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x chubby reader #jujutsu kaisen x plus size reader #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #gojo x chubby reader #geto suguru #geto x chubby reader #geto x plus size reader #shoko ieiri

97 notes · View notes