#not a single sober thought this year so far

[rvros]

I couldn't hack them feelings, I'm irresponsible

#not a single sober thought this year so far #tried but failed #do i even want to be sober though #rvro rambles #sad on main #this is my main #rambling and death note

[unclewaynemunson]

"What. The. Fuck."

Over years of living in a trailer park, Eddie has seen his fair share of weird shit. But this right here? This surpasses everything.

Wayne is sitting on the couch in the living room, with an actual baby in his lap and a completely deadpan expression on his face like this is something that happens every day.

"Hey, Ed. Meet Sasha Munson."

"Sasha Munson?" Eddie repeats, hoping that saying the name out loud will make this whole thing less surreal. It doesn't, so he automatically switches right into disbelieving panic mode instead. "Sasha Munson?! What the fuck? She isn't mine, I promise, it's literally impossible, someone must've - Wait, hold on - Is she yours? Aren't you like fifty years too old to knock someone up? What the fuck did you do? Who's the mother? What were you thinking, man, we can't take care of a -"

"Eddie, sit down."

"No, I'm not sitting down, this is ridiculous, what the fucking fuck, we can't -"

"She ain't mine and she ain't yours."

"What the-" It takes a few seconds before Wayne's words sink in. Then, Eddie freezes mid-sentence, giving his brain a second or two to catch up to what Wayne just said.

"Wait, what?" he asks.

He gives the sleeping baby a distrustful look. It's small - too small to be a human, if you asks Eddie. It scares him a little bit.

"Then whose is she?"

"I told ya to sit down, Ed."

And Wayne's voice is so strict and serious that Eddie can only obey.

"Your dad was here earlier."

Those few words are enough to tell Eddie exactly what happened. He immediately feels sick to his stomach. He wants to cover his ears, or walk out of the trailer and never come back. But instead, he keeps sitting, frozen in his chair, and listens to what Wayne tells him.

"Sasha is his daughter. He had this girlfriend, Melody, 'bout a year ago. She's much younger than him, is all I know 'bout her. I think they were kinda serious at the time. But Clyde went and messed it up, of course. Cheated on her. She dumped him. Then showed up again a few weeks later all sobered up and told him she was pregnant. Far as I know, things went okay for a while after that. But she caved right after she gave birth. It took a toll on her, Clyde said. So she needed the drugs again. He left her; he didn't see a way to help her and he was worried 'bout Sasha's safety. So he took Sasha with him and brought her to me. Said he couldn't take care of a baby and that was that."

It is a story eerily similar to what Wayne told Eddie about his own early years, whenever he'd ask him questions about his parents.

Eddie looks at the tiny human in Wayne's arms. Her eyes are closed and her mouth is just slightly agape. She's wrapped in a blanket that has a soft shade of pink, with tiny elephants printed across it.

"He never learns, does he?" Eddie remarks with a sigh.

"He doesn't," Wayne affirms in a soft voice, shaking his head. "But you know what, if these are the consequences of his actions..." He first looks up at Eddie, then down at the baby in his lap again. "I can't even be too mad at him for it."

"Jesus Christ, what a mess."

"Don't think too badly of him, Ed," Wayne says. "He wanted to help them. Both of 'em. But he didn't know how. He did what he thought was gonna be best for Sasha. Just like he did with you. He ain't evil. Just a coward who makes bad decisions."

Eddie swallows thickly.

"We'll make it work," Wayne says with certainty in his voice. "It'll be tight, but we'll survive. We did it before, we can do it again."

Eddie nods.

"You wanna hold her?"

He shifts uneasily. She seems so fragile. He doesn't know a single thing about babies; he is his father's son, after all, not Wayne's, no matter how much he wishes he were.

"C'mon, Ed, she's your sister."

It's only now that Eddie notices how well it fits, Wayne with a baby in his arms. Like he was made to be a father. Like Sasha belongs there. There aren't any pictures of Eddie as a baby, as far as he knows, but he imagines it must've looked somewhat like this scene: the exact same couch, a different blanket, and a younger version of Wayne. One with less wrinkles and more hair; less worn-out by the sorrows Eddie has given him over the years. It's simple for Wayne, in a way it isn't for Eddie's father, and in a way that Eddie fears it won't be for him. To hold her gently and let her sleep to the rhythm of his heartbeat. To sit with her quietly and do nothing else. To give love and patience without expecting anything in return.

Eddie rises from his chair and sits down next to Wayne on the couch. He utters a shaky breath, trying not to show his nerves, and wipes his sweaty hands over his jeans before holding out his arms.

“Just like that,” says Wayne softly while he places Sasha in Eddie's arms.

She's warm and has that specific newborn baby scent clinging around her. She's heavier than Eddie expected. She stirs a little bit and makes a tiny sound, but then she continues her peaceful sleep. He studies her: her closed eyes, her tiny nose, the way her head rolls around helplessly if he doesn't support her steadily enough; the hand that's hanging out of the blanket, with minuscule but fully developed fingers that grab around nothing. He listens to the steady sound of her breathing and imagines the tiny lungs inside her body working on pure instinct to keep her alive. His sister.

He looks up and finds Wayne staring at the two of them with tears in his eyes. He only catches Eddie's gaze for a fraction of a second, then he looks away, to the window on his right side.

“You're wrong, you know,” Eddie says.

Wayne turns his head back to him.

“Bout what?”

“She isn't his. Neither am I.” He looks up from the girl in his hands to meet Wayne's eyes. “We're both yours. He didn't do jackshit for us, just dropped us here with you and ran away. You're the one who raised me, Uncle Wayne, and that makes me yours way more than his. And Sasha? We're both gonna be here for her, every step of the way. We're gonna change her diapers and feed her milk - I don't really know anything else about babies, but we're gonna do all of that, together. We're gonna see her grow up and become a person. She's ours.”

Wayne produces a noise that sounds somewhat like a choked-off sob. He puts an arm around Eddie and drags him closer towards him. He doesn't say anything, but Eddie didn't expect him to. He understands.

#wayne munson was in dire need of an accidental baby acquisition trope okay #i said so #i know we all love steve accidentally becoming a parent to a baby half sibling but #consider this please #don't mind me rambling about stranger things #eddie munson #wayne munson #stranger things #fruity ficlet

[missmeinyourbones]

ahhh congrats on your milestone leah!! you deserve it all and more!

oh my god all these prompts are so good and you write everyone so well, how can we choose? for your event, may I suggest eren and "this this the first time i've felt the need to confess." or "it's okay, we're the best of friends."

ty for hosting this! I can't wait to see everything you come out with ٩(⌒‿⌒)۶

FIRST TIME I'VE FELT THE NEED TO CONFESS (e. jaeger)

a/n: drunk eren and dd reader, mutual pining but eren is shameless and reader has class, LOSER CORE EREN, reader referred to as "ma'am" once in a teasing context

L’s MIDNIGHTS EVENT!

If anyone saw this situation out of context, it might be funny. But in content—your context specifically—it's nothing less than a headache.

Because you've been saddled with the pleasure of driving home an absolutely trashed Eren, pulling him by his collar to your car as he whines and thrashes with objections.

"One date," he repeats, plopping dead weight into the passenger seat of your car and looking up at you with clouded eyes.

Your response is expected, "Nope."

Eren opens his mouth, but before you can hear whatever bullshit he was conjuring up, you shut his door and walk over to the other side of the car.

Without fail, as soon as you open your door, he's continuing his pleading.

"Just dinner? That's literally all I'm asking for, just one dinner where—"

"You know," you interrupt him as you slide into the driver's seat, "you're a sloppy drunk."

You watch the thought process (or lack thereof) in his mind as he smirks and leans his seat further back, "Drinking isn't the only thing I do sloppy if you—"

"Don't finish that sentence."

Eren's eyes travel in amusement from your blushing and aggravated face to where you turn the key in the ignition and white knuckle the steering wheel. He huffs and kisses his teeth, before defeatedly joking.

"Too far?"

You don't speak, but the glare you shoot him says enough. He holds his hands up in defense and turns his attention to his window.

Silence takes over the car for a few peaceful moments and you don't bring yourself to question it, because Eren not talking is a whole lot better than Eren talking. Not only talking, but asking you out—something he's never thought to do before in the entire three years of knowing you.

Between your own exhaustion and his pathetic alcohol tolerance, you're almost positive you can write it off as nonsense. That is, until Eren opens his big fat mouth up again.

"What if I beg?"

At a red light, you rest your forehead against the steering wheel in exasperation. You hear him borderline giggle as the action gently beeps on your horn.

Your voice comes weak, "Since when do you even want to ask me out? Are you that off your ass right now?"

That changes something in him, because even though he is off his ass right now, he's wanted to ask you out when he was sober about ten times over by now. It's not his fault he's never gotten the courage to do so until now. Right?

"No, fuck no, I—" he stumbles over the slurred syllables as his brain fogs, "I mean, I am drunk, yeah. But I've been far drunker."

Comically, you stare through him, as if he doesn't have a single thought in his puny little brain. When the light turns green, you turn away from him and start driving again, suddenly far too calm for his liking.

"Believe it or not, that doesn't make me feel any better."

Eren rubs his blurry eyes with a calloused hand. "Shit—yeah, I know, okay? Just, hold on. Let me start over, 'cause I do really do wanna buy you dinner and—”

"Why now?"

"Not now," he states matter of fact, "when I'm sober and know where my wallet is."

"No, Eren," your voice is soft now, humiliated. You won't even look at him when you weakly whisper, "Why are you telling me this all of a sudden?"

He takes pride in the way he holds your stare for all of three seconds, before turning down and looking at his shoelaces.

"This is just the first time I've felt the need to confess," he mumbles.

You deadpan, "The first time?"

"Yup."

"There were other times you kept it to yourself?

"Like two whole years worth, yeah," he huffs under his breath. "But I wasn't gonna lead with that because that sounds lame and this makes me sound more manly and suave."

The car hums beneath him when he hears you laugh, and his drunk mind can't tell if it's out of pity or honest amusement, but he likes the sound of it all the same.

Though your words might be meant to sting, the delivery is silky when you tease, "I'm driving you home because you can't handle your liquor. Nothing about you is manly or suave right now."

He nods along obediently, "Okay, sorry."

Turning his attention back to the condensation dripping from the window, he suddenly speaks so gently that you'd think he was sober if you didn't see what he drank tonight.

"If you don't actually wanna go out, you can just reject me already. It's fine."

Now it's Eren who won't meet your eye as you're pulling up to his house on the corner of the street. Throwing the car into park and tapping his bicep, he slowly sighs, a bit embarrassed but too drunk to actually care.

"Tell you what," you breathe, and you're surprised Eren's neck doesn't snap on impact with the speed he turns to face you. You bite your cheek at his desperation and exhale, "If you wake up in the morning and still want to take me to dinner, then we can talk about it tomorrow."

"Yeah?" you swear you can physically see the light reenter his eyes at your simple words.

Nodding, you smile. "Yeah, but for now, get your ass in your apartment and drink a shit ton of water."

Gently shoving him, Eren gets out of the car. In the slightly drizzling rain, his eyes never leave yours as his lanky legs stand up and he salutes in a corny way, "Yes, ma'am."

You reach over the middle console to pull his door shut, but before you can even grab it, he's reaching for the handle and holding it open.

"Wait—!"

"What now?" exasperation crawls from your throat.

You watch unimpressed as he pats down all of his pockets before meekly whispering.

"…Do you have my house keys?"

#L's MIDNIGHTS EVENT! #eren x reader #eren jaegar x reader #eren x you #eren jaeger x you #eren fluff #eren angst #eren jaeger fluff #eren jaeger angst #eren fic #eren jaeger fic

[pauking5]

New Year, New Me

Pairing: Roronoa Zoro x fem reader

Genre: mutual pining, flirting, some jealousy (if you squint), a shitload of banter, teasing

Word count: 5.7k+

A/N: I told you more Zoro is coming 😉 All I'm gonna say is that it's one of my favorites. Might have a part 2 planned but we'll see. Enjoy!

Part 2

The deep bass rocked your body with every move, heart beating in sync with the music blaring from the speakers in the club. Alcohol coursed through your veins, relaxing all your nerves and worries. Only heavens above knew how much you needed this.

To let go of everything for one night.

Especially if that one night was New Year's Eve and you dreaded it a shit ton.

This year was pure torment for you on the love frontline. There were some dates, a lot of situationships and even more failed talking stages.

It felt like your heart was just a hotel for people to stop at for one night. You left the doors wide open for anyone to come in and occupy a room. They would get whatever they wanted from you, whether that was sex or just talking the night away, and leave their trash at your doorstep for you to clean it up as if it was yours.

And it left you emptier and emptier the more you let the latch open.

Not one of them wanted to truly get to know you or let you talk for that matter and it was driving you nuts. You tried hard to convince yourself it wasn't a you problem. It was just hard seeing everyone else so happy and in long-running relationships while you were there struggling to have just one normal conversation with someone.

Before you let it get worse and have another storm wracking your heart you found yourself hitting the club a lot more often. As bad as it was, at least it covered the self-deprecating your sober mind was up to the minute your mouth touched the rim of the glass of mixed alcohol in your hand.

When the city clubs stopped doing it for you, you took to the beach club nearby. The tropical house genre wasn't really your style or the club itself, but it grew on you the more you visited it. Not for the good cocktails or the fun atmosphere the club induced in you. But for the green-haired man sat at the far back of the club that captured your eye.

From the looks of it he was a regular. Every night you were there, he was there too. You didn't think anything of it until it's been a few weeks and he was still present.

The only thing that changed the more you went there was that he took notice of you too.

The most he did was glance your way as you were dancing thinking you wouldn't notice but you caught him every. single. time.

There was something about the way he looked your way that sparked something in you. Every time his eyes laid on you it felt like your body would set on fire and that feeling only grew stronger over time.

He would be the only thing occupying your mind both in your waking hours and the intoxicated ones. Besides the obvious attraction you felt for him there was also this weird sense of connection that drew you to him. You hoped he would make a move to you but all he gave you was that unwavering gaze turning your insides to mush and your head into a mess.

You took it in your hands and decided to make the first move a few weeks ago. It was one of those nights you were feeling the loneliness a little too hard and thought some sort of action would have done you good. You scanned the club for him and found him in his usual spot, nursing a glass of what looked like whiskey.

The moment you set your eyes on him his dark eyes lifted from the glass to you, as if sensing that you were looking at him. His lips were placed on the rim of the glass, but his gaze was solely trained on you.

You moved your body to the rhythm of the music without breaking eye contact. He watched your every move from behind that glass like a hunter observing its prey, dark eyes roaming over you with an expression you couldn't quite read.

The beat of the song playing intensified and so did your moves, rolling your hips in sync with it. That caught his attention since you caught him licking his lips. He was definitely interested but he didn't make a move to you that night.

So, you tried luring him in more the next time you went. You danced a but more provocative this time, a result of the combination of liquid burning down your throat. You threw your hands in your hair messing with it as you exposed your neck, all whilst narrowing your eyes on him.

The most that did was halt the glass that was halfway to his lips, hand gripping it tightly as if to preserve his self-control. You continued the teasing, this time letting your hands wander down your body following the way his eyes trailed down. That had him throwing the contents in his glass down his throat rapidly, tongue poking against his cheek. You smirked in victory at the reaction. But even that wasn't enough to bring him closer to you.

Last week you decided that it was going to be your final try. You would drop it if he still didn't understand your intentions this time around. After all, you had your pride to preserve too.

He could be God's favourite for all you cared but if he couldn't grasp the concept of a woman wanting him this badly it was his fault.

Your last resort was provoking him. You wore a shorter dress revealing just enough to get any man howling to rip it apart. But it turned out, he wasn't just any guy.

After scanning the crowd you grabbed a random guy and danced with him for the majority of the night. You let him move you along to the music, holding your body flush against his. He placed his hands on your waist and dipped his head in your neck leaving rough kisses down your neck. You tilted your head back and looked at the green-haired man only to see his jaw twitching, eyes narrowed to slits in your direction.

Smirking at his reaction you turned around to the guy, glueing yourself to him impossibly close. You leaned up to whisper in his ear, eyes still set on the man at the back. His fist tightened dangerously next to the glass on the table.

Even with those obvious responses it still didn't get the point across to him.

You didn't understand him. You literally gave him every basic hint that you were interested and he reciprocated the gestures only to keep himself in that damn darkened corner.

He gave you the attention. The intensity of his gaze couldn't lie on that. One look from him kept you wanting more and more. You craved to know that connection wasn't just a lucid dream induced by alcohol and strobe lights. You lost yourself in the need for him to want you the way you wanted him.

And you did all that for a stranger.

The pursuing ended tonight. You weren't going to wait for anyone. Tonight would just be about you and you only.

But your excitement to drown in liquor and dance the night away into the new year was short-lived as the dance floor was suddenly flooded by couples of all people.

Blocking the laughter and sweet nothings whispered way too loud around you became harder. You ordered more and more alcohol to neutralise your senses and keep your emotions at bay. But no matter how much you drank and danced, you couldn't prevent that lonely feeling from seeping into your bones once again.

The closer it got to midnight, the worse you felt. A couple to your right was making out quite grossly, hands grabbing at each other's faces like it was a hotdog eating competition. Another couple to your left were humping each other like they were the only ones on the dance floor. You were pretty sure someone already had their junk out and it was just a matter of time before it sat in your line of sight and you got scarred for life.

Ah, fuck this. I'm leaving.

There was no point in staying here longer only to make yourself hurt more than you already did. The universe wanted you to suffer till the remaining last seconds of the year and you weren't going to give it the satisfaction.

You emptied what was left in your cocktail glass and placed it on a nearby table. Grabbing your bag and hoisting it up your shoulder, you turned for the exit. You wanted to get out of here before it hit midnight and all these couples would be getting it on.

But someone had other plans for you.

You barely took two steps towards the exit when a strong arm locked on your arm and pulled you backwards. You crashed into a hard chest, world swaying around you from the rapid movement. A woody vanilla scent surrounded you, sending you into a deeper daze than you were already in.

"Leaving so soon?"

You turned your head back only to come face to face with the green-haired man that occupied your mind for the past few weeks. The same man that annoyed you to the world's end as your attempts to show your interest for him seemed in vain.

Your mind was working on overdrive to make sense of what was happening. You didn't even look for him tonight and he was here, holding your hand. It wasn't helping that he was sat right behind you, body so close that you found it hard to breathe like a normal person. What was worse was that his eyes were focused on you, a relaxed smirk dancing on his lips.

The more you gazed into his eyes the more he took your oxygen away. And you couldn't help staring at him just a little more too entranced in his presence.

He looked even more breathtaking up close, strobe lights bouncing off his features enhancing them even more. His eyes appeared a lot sharper than they looked in that poorly illuminated corner.

He had this weird way of putting you in a trance every time your eyes locked with his. It veered you away from the fact that he lead you on for the longest time anyone's ever done before.

Upon remembering why you had every reason to be sour towards him, you turned your head away from him. You also did it to gain some stability in your mind, narrowing your eyes on the blurring crowd of dancing people in front of you.

"Didn't really have anything keeping me here," you spat out.

The music changed to a slower rhythm, still bouncy enough to keep people dancing.

His hand let go of your arm and you breathed a sigh of relief, until he wrapped it around your waist instead. You prayed he couldn't hear or feel the way your heart was racing, considering your back was pressed firmly against his chest.

"Wasn't going to let you go without a dance," he whispered in your ear.

There was no telling if the shivers dancing down your spine were either from him or from how buzzed you are. But you could feel the deep tone of his voice even with the loud bass thumping through you, louder than your own heartbeat.

"Oh, really?"

You turned around to fully face him. He was a head taller than you, shoulders extending beyond your field of vision. Your eyes lingered on his bulky arms, lined with muscles upon muscles, wondering how it would feel like to be squished between them.

The relaxed dress shirt he wore tonight looked divine on him. It was unbuttoned just enough to give you a sneak peek of his pecs, the rest of the material stretching over his toned body perfectly.

Okay, maybe he is God's favourite.

Beyond his looks, he was also emanating this oddly comforting energy. It was what drew you to him in the first place. You felt it the minute he laid his eyes on you the first night you came here and you felt it now as his eyes bore into you.

He took his time checking you out too. He was finally standing this close to you and you rendered him absolutely speechless. He thought you were beautiful from that corner, but you were even more gorgeous up close.

Your hair was put up in a messy bun, a few hair pieces falling around loose, framing your face. Your eyes twinkled with the changing colours of the lights, curiosity and interest dancing in your eyes.

The white silk dress you wore fell just below your knees. The straps around your shoulders did little to keep the dress on you as they circled behind where a deep back line exposed you fully to him. That cutout of the back line stopped way too low for his liking and your chest was covered just enough to not give him a heart attack.

What surprised him was that your outfits matched. If anyone asked the two of you if you were a couple they would hit the nail beside the head, so close yet so far.

Wrapping up the staring contest, his eyes settled on your lips. They were slightly parted, eyes seemingly just as lost in him as his were in you mere moments ago.

He chuckled at you which brought you out of your own spiral of thoughts and back to the blaring music and chatter around you.

"What are you really looking for out here?" he asked, stepping just a little closer to you.

Well, for starters, you weren't looking for commitment. But you also weren't looking for a one night stand. As contradictory as that sounded.

But it was a new year, which meant you could give into that new year, new me bullshit without thinking too much about the consequences for once. Who knew, maybe something would change.

The green-haired man sitting before you did not look like the type to commit or have just a one night stand either. So, he might have been just as conflicted as you were on that topic.

"Tell you what," you stepped closer to him and traced his shoulders with the pads of your fingers. He followed your movements until your hands stopped at the collar of his shirt, palms laid flat on his chest. "We can cross that bridge when we come to it."

Your eyes moved to his lips for the millionth time tonight. They looked so plump and inviting. You wondered how they tasted. Were they soft, with a tinge of his cologne that was already getting you addicted or were they rough, tasting just like the alcohol he normally drank?

He noticed the way you eyed his lips hungrily. His eyes moved from your hands on his shirt to your own lips. He couldn't deny yours looked just as inviting.

"20 seconds to the New Year!" said the dj through the mic, gathering everyone around for the reverse countdown to the new year.

He could consider himself fucked if he didn't make a move now.

"10 seconds!"

His eyes darted between your eyes and your lips unsure if he should indulge and plant a kiss on them.

"5!"

With uncertainty still dancing in his irises he leaned in, eyes moving to your eyes to search for any sign you didn't want this. But all he found was a fire ardently raging in your eyes. It was him that started it after all.

"4!"

The look on his face made you nervous. Any moment now his lips would finally press to yours.

"3!"

He glanced at your lips, getting closer but moving so infuriatingly slow that you decided enough was enough.

"2!"

Fuck it. I'll do it myself.

You fisted his shirt harshly and pulled him down to you, unable to wait anymore.

"1!"

You smashed your lips on his just as the countdown came to an end.

"Happy New Year everyone!"

Gold confetti rained down on you from all sides, getting stuck in your hair. The song playing on the speakers accelerated and so did your heartbeat the more your lips moved in the same rhythm with his.

Your hands locked at the nape of his neck pulling him closer to you. One of his hands wrapped around your waist, while the other grabbed the side of your face.

"May this new year be filled with fun for all of you," boomed the dj through his microphone before putting up the volume on the music.

New year's wishes could wait a little more. For now, you were too busy exploring the lips of the man that started a fire deep inside of you. He bit your lower lip, eager to take the kiss somewhere else.

You've been kissed before but never like this. It felt euphoric, like you reached the seventh heaven with the help of his lips alone. You were thankful he held onto you because your knees shook dangerously. And this time it wasn't from the damn alcohol.

You pulled apart trying to will some air back into your lungs. A lone hair strand fell in front of your face and you lifted your hand to brush it away but he was faster. He took it and gently put it behind your ear, letting his fingers ghost over the side of your neck. You couldn't help the smile pulling at your lips.

"Give me a second."

He let go of you and rushed off somewhere. You waited for a bit then scanned the crowd, unable to find him anywhere.

He couldn't have just left me here after that, right?

Did I rush him into it?

He probably left, didn't he?

Oh, lord.

I scared another good guy away.

This one was special too.

Great way to start the year, doofus.

Before you could wallow into self-pity and rethink your exit plan, he came back. Turns out he just went to get his jacket.

New Year's resolution: Stop overthinking shit.

He moved his jacket to one hand and let the other one find yours again, fingers lacing with yours delicately. The same fingers you studied for nights on end wishing they were wrapped around yours were now actually interwoven with yours.

"Do you have your things with you?"

You nodded, motioning to your bag as you fixed it on your shoulder, slightly confused at the question. He started walking to the bar, dragging you with him and hastily waved over a bartender.

"Give me the best bottle of champagne you have, a bucket of ice and two glasses. I'll take one of those platters too."

"The what-," you stuttered, shocked at his detailed request. He just smirked and you felt warmth rush to your cheeks.

How is a literal stranger making me blush and feel like I'm gonna explode at the same time?

Once he received the bucket with everything he asked for stacked neatly, he paid the bartender and led you outside to the beach. Fireworks were still going on from the looks of it. You could see the displays on either side of the beach you looked at. There were a few groups gathered around bonfires on the outside extension of the club, clinking glasses together and wishing for a better year.

You got a feeling he wasn't keen on hanging around others considering the fact that he mostly drank alone. Spotting a blanket and a few cushions on a couch you grabbed them, securing them under your free arm before you linked your hand back with his.

He started walking and true to your assumptions he led you further away from the crowd. He finally stopped at a spot that was illuminated enough to see each other. It was rather reclusive, but still in the vicinity of the club.

"Is this the part where you kill me or something?"

"I try to act like a gentleman and you take me for a psychopath," he deadpanned.

"Well, are you a psychopath?"

He just chuckled at your remark and shook his head.

"If I was, I wouldn't have asked the bartender for the best champagne they had."

"Fair point," you giggled.

He took the blanket from you spreading it out on the sand. You placed the cushions down while he placed the platter in the middle and motioned for you to sit down first.

"So, why did you bring me out here, stranger?"

"I've been meaning to talk to you for a while, but I guess tonight was a better time to do it than any. And name's Zoro."

He placed the bucket down and took a seat next to you. Grabbing the bottle of champagne he worked on opening the aluminum seal. Your eyes wandered over his arms, mindlessly stopping at the label and you felt your heart fall to your ass.

"IS THAT DOM PERIGNON?!"

You covered your mouth surprised that your voice came out so loud. He chuckled at your reaction before he moved to open the wooden cork.

That champagne costs a fortune. The selling a kidney or two kind of fortune. Fortune that you will probably never reach in your lifetime to just blow away on champagne regularly.

"Yeah, it is," he smiled. "I asked the bartender for the best they had and it's safe to assume he delivered."

"And you want to drink that... with me?" you asked pointing between the bottle and yourself.

He nodded, busy fighting with the bottle. He almost had it open but the cork just needed a little shimmying. An idea seemed to pop into his head judging by the way he snickered at you.

"Wanna see a trick?"

"Sure."

He picked up one of the champagne glasses in the bucket and held the bottom to the mouth of the bottle. He wiggled it a little on its neck until he found the perfect balance, moved it back and thrusted it forwards with force.

You expected the glass to break and fly everywhere but that didn't happen. What did happen was that the cork flew towards the small waves washing up on the shore with a safe pop sound. The glass was unharmed and the bottle was at last open, cold steam escaping it.

Your mouth was hung open in surprise. So he has several tricks up his sleeve, besides the gentleman act.

Satisfied with your reaction at his trick, he smiled again, this time more widely. He poured you a glass first and handed it to you before pouring himself one.

"Happy new year, stranger," he smiled, tilting his glass to you.

"Happy new year, Zoro," you returned the smile and clinked your glasses together.

You sipped the champagne surprised at the taste. It had a rich apricot flavor, a little sweet but not too over the top. You took your time savouring it. Who knew when you would get to relish in luxury like this ever again so might as well enjoy it.

You leaned back watching the remaining firework display. He moved to get comfortable, leaning on his side with his head on his palm. He had your exposed back in full view. Your skin looked so soft that it took everything in him not to trace his fingers down your spine.

"You're an interesting man."

"So I've been told."

"You had me running circles around you for weeks, you know."

"I know," he swirled the liquid in his glass, staring at it. "I'm not exactly a pro on the dating field."

"You don't look like a beginner either," you said before throwing back the champagne in your glass down your throat for some more liquid courage.

"What about you?" he asked as he got up to pour you another glass. "Should I be wary of any male alphas that would like to smash my face for kissing you?"

You laughed heartily at that. He's been around you for half an hour at most and he already made you feel giddy inside.

"Nope, not a single soul. Main reason why I've been hanging around at the club more than I do around my own house."

That was an exaggeration but there was some truth in it. You did it hoping to find someone that you could connect with in some way. And you did, considering the green-haired man currently laying next to you. It was just a question of whether he felt that connection too.

"And I thought you were coming to see me."

"Of course I did!"

His eyes shot up from his glass just as you registered what you said. The blush on your face expanded and you probably looked like a tomato by now.

Stupid alcohol.

"Sure you did," he chuckled.

You leaned back to smack his chest and he threw his head back laughing at the sight of your red face. As annoyed as you felt, his laugh was quickly growing on you.

"Tease," you tsked.

"Can't help it," he scoffed with a tight-lipped smile, taking another sip from his glass.

"I guess it's good," you mumbled mostly to yourself.

"What's good?" he asked.

"Letting go of the past. Living in the present, as they say."

"Losing control every once in a while can do you good," he stated.

Maybe he was right. Maybe tonight wouldn't turn out so bad after all.

Watching the sea at night when it was the calmest, with the moonlight glimmering on the waves put you at ease. Just as much as the man beside you did right now.

You dove in the charcuterie platter, laying on the blanket with your heads propped on the cushions, talking about anything and everything. You learned more about him and the fact that he could handle a shit ton of alcohol seen as he was downing champagne glasses faster than you.

Telling him about yourself and what a shit year you've had in terms of dating to get him off your case a little was supposed to be just light-hearted banter. But he just took that as a sign to tease you more.

"How to lose a guy in 10 days was definitely made about you," he howled laughing, after you told him about one of your situationships.

"Really funny. As if you've seen the movie," you said, popping a grape in your mouth.

"Try me," he taunted, adjusting his position to sit above you.

You mentally searched the movie for a scene that was iconic but could have easily gone unnoticed. You found the perfect one. Suppressing your giggles to not give it away, you cleared your throat to get in character and recited the scene word for word.

"Little, big, little, big... I don't know... I guess we will find out!" You made the grabby hands and pulled on a silly face, embodying the character.

He sat thinking for a few moments until the colour drained from his face at the realization of what scene it was.

"I am not saying that line even if you shoot me."

"Come on. I did it so it's customary you do it too."

He face palmed, releasing a sigh of annoyance. He just had to put himself on the spot like that. But he was a man of his word.

Looking around for anyone that could possibly hear him and become a collateral victim, he let out an exasperated breath and got into character.

"You-You can't name my member... Princess Sophia."

You rolled around laughing as he dug his face in his cushion in shame. The look on his face was priceless and you decided to pay back his earlier teasing with even more teasing.

"I have a question."

"What now?" he mumbled, voice muffled by the blanket.

You got closer to him and tried to keep your laugh in as you whispered your question in his ear.

"Does your member have a name too?"

His head shot up, eyes squinting at you dangerously. The earlier embarrassment was gone from his face and if the twitch in his jaw wasn't a clear indicator that you were in deep shit, the hand gripping your cushion was a good sign that you should run away.

"You're so dead."

Before he could lay his hands on you, you got up and ran out towards the shoreline. He followed, rushing to catch up with you.

You lifted your dress a bit to avoid stepping on it and bolted as fast as you could. He almost had you when you took a turn to throw him off, running back to the spot your blanket was on.

"Catch me if you can," you laughed.

"There's nowhere for you to run."

"Watch me."

You slowed down on purpose, letting him get close to you again only to dash out back to the sea. The soft sand under your feet turned from smooth to damp and soon enough your feet were submerged in cold water. You thought he wouldn't follow you to avoid getting his clothes soaked but he proved you wrong again tonight.

He ran towards you at full speed and you really had nowhere else to run this time. The bottom of your dress got drenched, sticking to your legs the further you went in. The water only slowed you down, giving him the opportunity to catch up with you.

You were waist deep in the water when his hands sneaked around your middle pulling you to him. You tried to break free but it was no use. The grip he had around you was as strong as steel.

"Let me go."

"Only if you say sorry."

"What if I don't? You gonna make me?"

"Huh, so she's got guts too," he chuckled.

"Why don't you fuck around and find out just how gutsy I am?"

You refused to give in. Splashing water at him only made the grin on his face widen because he started tickling you. And everyone knew tickling was a low belt move. You roared with laughter thrashing around in his arms.

Suddenly, retreat sounded a lot better than being tickled to death.

"Okay! I'm sorry!"

"Are you really?"

"No, but stop tickling me."

Reluctantly, he let go of you. He knew you had a surprise attack in store. His suspicions were confirmed true when you ran behind him, trying to push him into the water. He lost his balance but he wasn't planning on going down alone, hand quickly clamping down on yours to pull you with him.

You gasped as the water enveloped you fully. Sitting back up, you were fully drenched. Most of your hair was wet too, water dripping out of it like you just stepped out of the shower. Zoro, on the other hand, was giggling at you like a fucking school girl proud of bullying her friends.

Annoyed with his antics, you turned around and walked back to the blanket, plopping yourself down. He walked out too, that devilish smirk plastered on his face.

He stopped in front of you. You tried to look away from him but you couldn't. Especially when his shirt was so soaked that it stuck to his body in a way that let you see all of his toned muscles.

"Like what you see?"

You snapped out of your delusions, putting your annoyed face back on.

"Go away," you waved him off.

A sudden gust of wind blew reminding you of just how exposed you were. You looked like a wet dog. Your dress was wet and stuck to you uncomfortably, increasing the cold seeping inside your body at a faster rate than you liked..

You let your hair down placing it around your neck to get some sort of warmth from the parts that weren't soaked. Covering your arms in an attempt to wash the cold away, the breeze only persisted, blowing even more harshly as if to spite you. Zoro noticed you shivering.

"Are you cold?"

Still irritated with him, you shook your head no. You didn't want his help after the stunt he pulled. But the way you held tightly onto your arms and rocked from side to side told him otherwise.

Out of nowhere, warmth enveloped you. You turned to see Zoro right behind you, hands on top of your shoulders to make his blazer jacket cover as much of your body as it could to keep you warm. It was big enough to look like a blanket on you. You sighed at the comfort, pulling it closer to snuggle into the warmth of the fabric, feeling some of the cold dissipate.

"It might be hot out here but it's still December."

"It's January now," you stated.

"Okay, smartass," he boomed.

The night sky got darker and stars twinkled brightly as you talked until you finished the bottle of champagne and the platter. As much as he liked to tease, you loved his company a lot. The more time you spent with him the more you wished tonight would never come to an end.

He suddenly got up from his spot beside you and went to stand in front of you. He scratched the back of his neck looking at you which made you confused until he spoke up about his intentions.

"May I have this dance?"

He extended his hand out to you and you hesitated. Not out of the nervousness you felt yourself, but in a ploy to push his buttons. He deserved a little more teasing after making you wait for it for so long.

"Come on. I told you I wasn't gonna let you leave without a dance."

The way he looked at you changed your playful plans. It looked like he was really trying to be more into it and you couldn't say no to those eyes.

"Okay," you gave in, letting your hand slip into his.

His eyes lit up like moon crescents as he pulled you up and brought you closer. This must have been the softer, drunken part of him.

"What about music?" you asked.

"Music?"

He moved from one side to the other until he settled on a spot a few feet away from the blanket, tugging you with him. You were about to question his actions when you heard it. The faint sound of music playing from the club mixed with the sound of the waves breaking at the edge of the shore. It wasn't too loud or too faint but just enough to be peaceful and rhythmic background noise.

"You're unbelievable, in a good way," you giggled. He just smiled at you like a fool, most likely gone on the bouts of alcohol induced giddiness.

He pulled you closer, one hand holding yours out while the other curled around your waist, similar to a fancy dancing pose. Stepping left and right he pulled you with him into something that resembled a very weird tangled waltz.

You danced a combination of everything. He twirled you around, bottom of your dress swirling around you. Then he spun you out and brought you back in to hold you close as your hands settled back on his shoulders. He even lifted you up like one of those ballerinas you see at the opera, paying attention not to drop you face forward in the sand like a true dancing partner. You couldn't deny you had chemistry.

Twisting you around again, he stopped to dip you down on your back, hands secured tightly around you. He leaned down to your face, just a small distance away from putting his lips on yours. You closed your eyes in anticipation, expecting him to kiss you.

You wanted to feel his lips against yours again, missing the way they fit just right with yours back at the club. But just when you thought he would kiss you, you felt his lips elsewhere on your face - in a small peck on your cheek.

He brought you back up and grinned as your cheeks flushed pink. You brought a hand up to your cheek to touch it, feeling the faint brush of his lips burn into your skin as you processed it. He took your hand away from your cheek and laced his fingers with yours, leading you into yet another dance.

It was ridiculous. You were dancing to faint tropical house music on the beach in the darkness of the night with no sense of rhythm. But the soft sand under your feet felt better than any rigid dance floor you've been on and your dance partner was gentler than anyone you've ever danced with. You wouldn't trade this for the world.

The side effects of all the alcohol you drank was slowly kicking in and thankfully, the pace of your swaying got slower. You laid your head on his chest and let him rock you back and forth, listening to the beating of his heart that was more music to you than anything else.

"Thank you."

"What for?" he asked, looking down at your small form in his arms.

"For tonight," you sighed. "I haven't felt this good in a while."

"You're welcome," he said softly.

He was still trying to process things himself, mostly the fact that he was finally holding you after playing hooky for so long. You curled up closer searching for more warmth in his arms and he couldn't help but smile at you once more. It wasn't like him to show his inner happiness to people, but it seemed like his smiles were limitless for you.

The high of the alcohol you consumed was long gone, replaced by a drowsy feeling overtaking your senses. The music stopped playing telling you it was way too late for the world to keep going at it. All you could hear were the waves lapping each other in close distance, accompanied by a peaceful silence and the soft breaths coming from your human pillow.

You cuddled into him, sighing at the warmth he radiated. An arm was draped around you, drawing random patterns on your back that lulled you even more towards sleep though you didn't want to give into it just yet.

His other hand busied with yours, tracing up and down your fingers one by one. He turned them on all sides, then moved to your knuckles, inspecting each ridge and mound, each fading scar evidence of your rebel childhood. Once he was satisfied with his findings he intertwined your fingers together, bringing them closer to his chest.

Your hand looked so frail in his bigger one, encased like a precious jewel in a locked treasure chest with a lost key. But that key wasn't lost. It was just waiting to be found. Just like the latch on the hotel in your heart was waiting to be put back on the door by a person who wanted to stay all year around. Could he be that person for you?

He was the only thing turning in the tides of this endless night and you couldn't take your eyes off of him. Meeting him felt like some kind of blessing was bestowed upon you. Like all the pain of the previous year and the endless waiting was finally rewarded the way it was written to happen from the start.

By the looks of it he felt that connection too. It might have been just a one night adventure but only your sober minds could decide that in the fast approaching morning. But for now, being in each other's presence was enough to calm the tempest that's been swirling in your heart for so long.

He noticed you doze off when your head felt a little heavier on his chest. Taking his eyes off the sea and the few boats popping up and down the waves in the distance, he looked at you. Your cheeks turned a rosy shade, most likely from the amount of booze you had. They puffed up against his chest, light snores escaping through your opened lips. There was a little trail of drool pooling at the edge of your lower lip. He chuckled and wiped it away, making a mental note to tease you about it when you wake up.

Truth is that he's been waiting around for you all night back at the club. Time was flowing way too slow and his patience was running thin. But once you finally walked through the door his inner clocks froze over. His breath got caught in his throat, so much that he couldn't find it in himself to make a move to you yet again.

So, he just watched you from his usual spot, hoping he could get some liquid courage if he drank a little before coming to you. But he wasted way too much time wallowing in self-pity.

When you got your things and slammed the glass on the table enraged, he knew you were about to leave. If he let you leave back then he was sure he wouldn't be able to face you again. So he finally made a move to you, running through the crowd to catch you.

The fact that you were now tucked safely in his arms, wearing his jacket, told him he made a move at the right time. Who knew what other man would've stolen you away if he waited for too long. Or if he ever got to see you again.

From what you told him, he could sense how much you craved to find someone. To stop opening up to people who didn't even want to hear about anything other than bodily pleasure. Because he craved a deeper connection with someone too. He was just bad at showing it most of the time.

"I'm so glad you didn't settle," he whispered, laying a soft kiss on the crown of your head.

He spent the remainder of the night watching over you, until the dark sky turned into the early haze of dawn. He closed his eyes for a bit, waiting for you to wake up and unknowingly, he doze off in the comfort of feeling you close.

The comfort you were wrapped in was so cozy that you found it hard to open your eyes. Once you did, you took in your surroundings, surprised to see the green-haired man still at your side. The longer edges of the blanket were wrapped around the both of you, providing some warmth in the early morning breeze.

You half expected him to leave you here on the beach. To wake up and think of it as just another drunken night out that others normally wanted to take back. But he didn't.

You looked towards the sea. The previously dark night sky that was illuminated by the glow of the moon was now a myriad of orange and pink. It was brighter than any sunrise you've ever seen.

The start of a new beginning, you smiled to yourself.

The sun was still on his way to fully light up the sky, but the rays were already bouncing off the waves in glimmering gold and the sea looked so crystalline and blue, like you were watching a movie scene unfold before you.

Turning back to the man beside you, you took your time taking him in. He was sound asleep judging by the way his chest rose up and down slowly and had one arm under his head, propping it higher than the cushion could. The other one was still wrapped around you, in the same position you remembered it to be before you fell asleep. Small chimes came from his golden earrings as they dangled on the breeze of the wind.

He looked so at peace, a close-mouthed smile on his lips. The urge to lift your hand and trace the outlines of those lips grew the more you looked at them.

"Take a picture. It'll last longer," he spoke, taking you by surprise. His voice was way deeper than last night, resounding a little raspy in your half-asleep ears.

"How long have you been awake?"

"Enough to feel you staring at me like I'm made from tempered glass."

"I wasn't staring."

"Sure you weren't."

"Okay, you caught me."

His eyes crinkled in pride at getting you to admit it before opening up to look at you.

"How did you sleep?" he asked, a hint of amusement present in his voice.

"I slept fine," you replied, eyeing him with a raised eyebrow.

He looked too pleased with himself in the early hours of the morning. As if he knew something you didn't.

"Did I do something weird in my sleep?"

"I wouldn't say weird. But I'm glad you were comfortable enough to do it with me," he smirked.

What the fuck did I do? Did I snore? Did I kick him? Wait. He said I did something with him. Did we do something like-

Your eyes widened as the thought crossed your mind. The look on his face could only say that you did exactly what you thought you did.

"DID WE FUCK?" you whisper shouted.

His grin just widened and he started laughing hysterically, slapping the sand beside him like a maniac.

"Why are you laughing- YOU LITTLE SHIT!"

"Your face! That was priceless."

The daggers you were throwing at him told him you weren't in the mood for ridicule you this early in the morning. Too bad he had other plans.

"But you did do something."

"JUST TELL ME ALREADY," you shouted, getting ready to strangle him.

He seemed deep in thought on whether he should tell you.

"What are you willing to do for this important information?"

The way he wiggled his eyebrows at you told you he wanted to negotiate some terms first, as if he was withholding national secrets or some shit.

"I'll do anything," you sighed, playing along with him.

"Anything?"

"Zoro, I swear to god I'm going to put my foot through your face."

"All it takes is one kiss."

"One kiss? What are you, five?"

"Rules are rules. Kiss or I'm not telling you."

Your tongue poked your cheek in annoyance as you looked out at the sea debating your choices.

You could either run away and live with the humiliation that you'll never know what you did that had him make fun of you this bad. Or you could just humour him and find out what it was quicker. The latter seemed like the better choice.

"Okay, fine."

You decided to go for a kiss on the cheek, to pay him back for the almost kiss he gave you while dancing. You leaned down to him, cheek in your direct line of sight. You were about to plant the quickest peck on it when he moved his face so your lips landed on his instead.

They tasted like a glass of freshly opened champagne, just like the one you drank with him last night. You felt him smile against your lips, holding onto the nape of your neck to pull you closer. When he was satisfied enough with his kiss, he let go of you and you separated, breaths fanning each other.

"Are you gonna tell me now?"

"Did you know you drool in your sleep?"

"I DID WHAT-"

"There was like a whole lot of it on my shirt. Like a newborn baby's."

You burried your head in his side, trying to hide the blush rising on your cheeks. He just laughed at you squeezing you closer.

"There's nothing to be ashamed of. I think it was adorable."

"You're just saying that," you mumbled.

"I mean it."

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever."

He moved away from you and you thought he got up. Turning your gaze upwards you found him standing above you, hands on either side of you.

The playfulness in his eyes was exchanged for dark eyes staring down at you with hunger. The smirk on his lips told you that nothing remotely good passed through his mind at the moment and it made you gulp.

He leaned down to you and your breath hitched. No man made you this nervous before and you didn't even do anything together to feel this way. Like you sinned a thousand sins or something.

His lips brushed your ear, chest almost pressing against yours.

"Am I making you nervous?"

"Yeah. No. I don't know."

He looks like a sculpture and I'm supposed to not get turned on by it? Yeah, right.

He took you by surprise pressing his lips on the side of your neck. It made you forget where you were in the first place, mind entirely focused on the fluttering feeling he instilled in you. He moved the kisses all the way down to your jaw, with the goal of getting to your lips.

Just before you could feel them again, your stomach grumbled loudly interrupting your moment. Turns out the flutters were from being hungry.

"You have great timing," he shook his head at you.

"It's not my fault I'm hungry."

"Then, how about we grab something to eat?"

"I would love that."

He sat up and helped you up, starting to gather the stuff that needed to be taken back to the club in the bucket. You grabbed your heels, putting your arms through the sleeves of his jacket. Once you had everything you started making your way back.

"I'm craving seafood," you recommended. "What do you wanna eat?"

"You."

"EWW DONT SAY THAT."

"I'm joking."

"I am never kissing randos on new year's ever again."

"Only if I can become the only rando you kiss on every new year's."

"You're impossible," you smiled.

"Only for you."

Part 2

Thank you for reading! As always, comments, likes and reblogs are welcome :)

#roronoa zoro #roronoa zoro x you #roronoa zoro x reader #opla zoro #one piece #one piece x reader #i don't know about you but i am wrecked after this one

[katelynnwrites]

All’s Well That Ends Well (To End Up With You) | Felicitas Rauch

warnings: a tiny bit of angst but it’s mostly fluff

word count: 2145

summary: your national teammates have a conversation about starting families and it prompts a conversation between you and feli

a/n: let me know what you think of this please? i got this idea from the born for this documentary and it’s been buzzing around my head for a while because i was kind of hesitant if i should write it…if it’s good i might write a bit more about feli and kids :)

You’re certain that this is the team that will go far in the Euros. Hell, the mood in camp is one so perfect that you are filled with the conviction that you might just win the whole damn thing. It is what every single member of your team is working towards.

The tournament might still be eight months away but things are just shaping up so well.

These people you’re with, they are more than just teammates. They’re good friends.

Good friends that you are happy to celebrate an early Christmas with.

The national team staff and some of your teammates have been kind enough to help set up a small Christmas get together, with food and drinks.

It might be the midst of international break and you might be only two metres away from the hotel entrance but it makes all the difference.

Everyone needs to get their minds off football and relax sometimes, especially when the last game of the year is just around the corner.

Curled into Feli’s side, you giggle at the story Sara is telling. You can feel Felicitas’ body vibrate with laughter and you press yourself closer to her.

Your wife easily slips her arm around your waist in response.

She drops an affectionate kiss onto the top of your head even as she continues listening to her fellow defender.

The smile on your face grows as the rest of your teammates pitch in, the alcohol helping everyone to loosen up.

Feli’s fingers gently running over your side and the pleasant buzz of the mulled wine distract you for a few minutes and when you focus back on the conversation, it’s to Kathy saying that it would be nice if men could get pregnant too.

A round of laughter rings out immediately and you grin at the very thought. It would certainly be helpful for some of your teammates, both national and club alike.

Lina jokes that she would get her boyfriend pregnant right away if she could and everyone chuckles a little harder.

When that dies down though, there is a moment of sobering silence.

‘You’d actually like to have kids though…right?’

Marina directs the question at anyone and everyone, her tone being an indicator of just how difficult this particular subject is. It’s unusual for the typically smiley woman to be so serious.

Both Kathy and Lina nod, Laura following after a moment.

A few of the youngest players like Jule and Obi simply shrug. That’s fair you think, because it’s not something that would be on the forefront of their mind at that age.

But for you, being a few years older, it has.

So you nod too and can’t help but slip your hand into your wife’s when she does the same, a tad shyly.

You’ve talked about it before you even started dating, wanting to be on the same page before starting a relationship that might turn out to be lasting.

You are incredibly happy that it did and are so thankful for having that conversation with Feli.

Being a mom has always been something you want and marrying someone who wants the same thing as you was always important.

It never occured to you while you were growing up that that person would come into your life, in the form of Felicitas Rauch.

Two months into calling her your girlfriend and you knew that she would be the only one you would ever want to start a family with.

It assures you the feeling must be mutual when the brunette squeezes your hand lightly, glancing at you adoringly.

‘I feel ready to start a family now but I guess with football, I will have to wait a couple more years.’ Kathy sighs.

You make a sympathetic noise and your fellow Wolfsburg player looks up.

‘I’m guessing that you can relate. I see how you are with the younger fans. Do you want a girl or a boy?’ She asks softly.

Shrugging, you murmur, ‘I don’t mind either. I just want them to be healthy, you know?’

Kathy gives you a tiny smile and nods her understanding.

Your heart warms just thinking about it and the hopeful smile you give the blonde in return makes you miss the one on Feli’s face dimming.

Felicitas keeps your hand in hers but doesn’t say much more for the rest of the night.

She does not meet the worried looks you give her and by the end of the little celebration, your anxiety is just about eating you whole.

You don’t remember the last time you’ve felt this uncertain with your wife.

As everyone makes their way back to their respective rooms, you trail after her to the room you’re sharing.

‘Liebling?’ You softly prompt and the brunette defender frowns as she shuts the door.

‘What’s wrong?’

Felicitas stiffens and she sits down on her bed, drawing her knees up to her chest.

Her brown eyes are full of emotion when she quietly asks, ‘You want a baby now?’

‘Well not now now but maybe after the Euros…’ You admit.

Your wife’s eyes widen and you reach for her hand hurriedly, saying, ‘Don’t you? We’ve been married for a few years and I think we’re in a good enough place in our careers.’

Feli shakes her head, stammering, ‘I-I love you but I’m not ready.’

As hard as you try to hide it, you can’t stop the hurt that flashes across your face from showing.

‘Liebling, I’m sorry.’ Feli pleads, squeezing your hand tightly and touching your wedding ring.

‘Don’t be. You aren’t at fault for the way you feel. I-I just thought you wanted to have children as badly as I do.’ You whisper, covering her hand with yours.

This, if possible, makes your wife feel even worse.

There are tears slipping down her face as she takes a deep breath, trying to explain herself.

‘I do. Believe me I do. That’s not what I’m not ready for. Liebling I want to have a baby with you, I’m ready to start a family with you. It’s been on my mind for a long time but what I’m not ready for is putting football on hold.’

‘Felicitas…’ You breathe.

‘I love you. I love you so incredibly much and I’ve dreamed of having a family with you but I can’t do it now. I’m twenty six and I know that’s not old but I’m terrified of not being able to get back my current form after I give birth.’

‘Feli I love you too but I don’t understand.’ You murmur.

Your wife makes a frustrated noise, ‘Don’t you see how hard Almuth is struggling? I know that I’m not as old as she was when she got pregnant but I don’t think I can go through it liebling.’

‘I know and I admire her for it but Feli…I’m not asking you to put yourself through that.’

The fullback simply stares at you with clear confusion.

There’s a smile on your face as you tease, ‘You know liebling, the good thing about being in a lesbian relationship is that both of us can get pregnant.’

‘What?’

‘I’m younger than you Feli. I’ll recover faster, and be able to get my fitness back faster.’

‘Y-You want to be the one to carry our baby?’

Your wife’s tone is one of complete disbelief.

‘Yes.’ You answer simply.

‘But why? You’re our star striker for club and country. You are at the top of your game liebling. Hell Barcelona wants you and while I know you turned them down, chances like that aren’t given to just anybody. As a player, you are far more valued than I am. For you to put your career on hold…’ Feli’s voice gets gradually quieter before it tails off.

The Wolfsburg defender swallows hard, her gaze never leaving yours.

It is barely audible when she mumbles, ‘If you get pregnant after the Euros, you might not be able to come back in time for the World Cup.’

‘Felicitas, my love, don’t you know that I will give up anything if it means being able to be a mother with you? Winning a world cup is a dream but being able to have a family with you is the biggest dream.’

If the brunette wasn’t crying before, she certainly is now.

Her hands are gentle as she cradles your face to kiss you. She tastes like the salt of her tears but the action still takes your breath away.

‘Do you really mean that?’ Feli whispers against your lips.

You nod, leaning your forehead against your wife’s.

She presses one more kiss onto your mouth, murmuring, ‘Let’s do it. I want to have a baby with you liebling. As soon as possible.’

‘Okay…okay that sounds like a plan.’ You tearfully agree.

******

You’re pregnant a month after Germany finishes runners up in the Euros.

******

Feli was right. You are far from being able to make it back in time for the World Cup but you never expected yourself to be anyway.

That doesn’t mean that you aren’t there to support your wife, fellow national teammates and country though.

You are in the friends and family section, with your newborn dressed in the tiniest Rauch, 17, jersey.

Where your wife found noise cancelling headphones small enough to fit on his head, you’ll never know but he looks adorable.

He peers curiously at his surroundings during the first half, never once crying but rather being content to be held by you.

Felicitas blows you and him a kiss each as she makes her way back down the tunnel at halftime.

Her bun is messy and it is getting colder as the sun sets but her eyes are shining with adoration.

She mimes catching the kiss you blow her in return and you giggle.

‘Your mama’s so silly.’ You tell your son as you rock him gently.

The newborn sucks determinedly on his fist in response and you giggle.

He has Feli’s eyes and you don’t know how you will ever be able to tell him no when he grows up. You certainly are not able to tell your wife no when she looks at you with her pretty eyes.

******

Your country puts two more into Morocco’s goal before Felicitas is subbed out in the 89th minute.

You cheer louder than anybody when she leaves the pitch because you are always going to be her biggest fan.

The brunette catches sight of you just before she sits down at the bench, her cheeks flushing a bright pink at the look of pride on your face.

You chuckle at that, pressing a light kiss onto your baby’s forehead. He’s fallen asleep, the cool Australian night air giving his cheeks a rosy hue, nearly identical to his mother’s.

The match is nearly over now and Lea fires one more into the opposition’s net to make it a six-nil win before the full time whistle blows.

There’s a tangible joy in the stadium, from the fans and your team.

Everyone is celebrating but you only have eyes for your wife.

She’s making directly for you, climbing over the barriers and pulling you into an excited kiss.

‘I love you.’ Feli declares.

‘Love you too.’ You grin.

The fullback kisses you once more, her hands cradling your face eagerly.

‘How’s our son?’ She asks, bending down to lightly press her lips onto his forehead. He remains fast asleep, not even stirring when you transfer him into the Wolfsburg player’s arms.

Your wife coos softly, adjusting the blanket you wrapped him in, to protect his tiny body from the cold.

Felicitas is entirely enamoured with him, just as she has been since she saw him on the initial ultrasound.

You always knew she would be down bad but when your son gripped Feli’s finger tight the moment she first held him, well she exceeded all your expectations.

The brunette holds him close, breathing in his baby smell before looking up hesitantly.

‘C-Can I take him down to the pitch? I know we talked about keeping him off social media but I want to share this moment with him.’

You don’t even have to think twice about your answer.

‘Felicitas of course you can. I might have carried him but he’s your son too.’

Your wife can’t resist kissing you once more before she leads you back down onto the pitch with her, despite your protests.

‘Liebling this is your special moment, your World Cup debut.’

‘Yes and I want to share it with my family.’ She matter of factly states.

There’s no arguing with her and so it is with a smile on your face that you let her slip her hand into yours.

Being there with Feli, as she holds the baby you had together against her chest…it’s everything you have ever dreamed of.

German Translation:

liebling - love

#feli rauch #felicitas rauch #feli rauch x reader #feli rauch imagine #woso x reader #woso fanfics #woso imagine #gerwnt x reader #gerwnt imagine #dfb frauen x reader #dfb frauen imagine #vfl wolfsburg frauen #vfl wolfsburg frauen x reader #vfl wolfsburg frauen imagine #dfb frauen #gerwnt #woso #uswnt x reader #uswnt imagine #katelynnwrites

[joheunsaram]

pretty hallucinations (jjk)

summary: Drunk words are sober thoughts, and now Jungkook knows all of yours — even the ones about him. And you know what they say, once a secret’s out, it’s hard to take it back.

word count- 3.9k 

pairing- best friend!Jungkook x Reader

rating- PG 15

genre- f2l, idiots in love, fluff, slight angst, slight crack

warnings- reader is wasted, jungkook is a softie, SO MUCH PINING, mention of bondage and spreader bars lmfao

a.n- a birthday fic to celebrate my favourite bunny! happy birthday jk! this fic came to me after I read a scene in ten trends to seduce your best friend that had me cackling. read that book if you enjoyed this, that ones a real f2l slow burn hehe

special s/o to @daechwitatamic for beta reading, helping with the summary, and leaving the most hilarious comments on my doc haha I will cherish them forever💕

As always feedback appreciated, a reblog and a like goes a far way. Send me an ask! 💌

-

The room was spinning. A kaleidoscope of colours twirling in the air and you couldn’t help the bitterness rising through you. This used to be your favourite place, a library you had created after years of collecting your favourite words. Systematically organized, it seemed now that a hurricane had passed through.

Well, after ten drinks, you were nothing less than a hurricane. Books with their once perfect spines laid dog-eared and haphazard. You couldn’t find it. Couldn’t find the perfect words for the moment. There was always supposed to be something for every emotion in your collection.

Some may think losing yourself in fictional words was cowardice, but to you it was a reprieve. Reality was boring. In the real world you were just a nerdy overgrown virgin who would never confess your feelings to a man — to the man. In reality, you would always be the girl who talked big about sex and hid behind bravado instead of ever opening yourself up to the vulnerability that came with it. The real you was a phony.

Stumbling with your fingers wrapped around the bottle of whiskey, you meandered to the opposite wall, pulling romance novels off the shelves. They would have answers for your predicament. Wasn’t that the purpose of them? To show how the characters overcame their fears?

The words blurred but you lost yourself. You were Catherine sharing your love but having it misconstrued, leaving you to misery, a death of a life never fully lived. As you read Heathcliff’s grief, daring you to haunt him, he transformed from the Englishman to someone too familiar, his proper attire morphing to the comfortable baggy black shirts and giant stomping boots. His dark eyebrow manifested a silver barbell, his eyes widening into a doe-eyed stare. Ebony tendrils grew from his fingertips, running up his right arm until they formed shapes as intimate as your breaths. Tiger lillies and eclipses and snakes and clocks and words so dear they played as a melody on your lips.

And then Jungkook’s words transformed from the enraged howling of ghosts to silence, his lips parted in shock as his eyes looked at you with pity. The memory was visceral and it forced your hand to tip the bottle against your lips, your tongue coating in the warm bite of liquor. Yet, it permeated through, the single moment of bravery you had been saving your whole life coming back to haunt you.

He had a friendly arm around you, the two of you laughing at the television screen as the characters finally confessed and Jungkook shook his head, chastising them for not coming clean sooner and saving him the trouble. The innocuous words gave you the courage to share a secret ten years in the making.

A simple I like you.

But unlike the characters who were living their happily ever after, Jungkook sputtered, moving away with an awkward laugh, shattering your heart into a million pieces. The distance was a chasm growing wide with his questions and the lifetime of bravery fizzled much quicker than you anticipated.

“I should’ve never opened my stupid mouth,” you lamented, tossing back another searing gulp, books digging into your back as you stared at nothing. Nothing that spurred into a familiar shadow making you cackle at your imagination. It really was better than reality.

Because in your imagination, Jungkook crouched in front of you smelling like fresh laundry that made you hazy. His fingers caressed your face, moving the curls that had spilled from their usual tight bun atop your head to frame your face. But even an imaginary Jungkook wouldn’t give you your happy ending.

Moving your hair away, he smiled, helping you up. His voice was gravelly when he spoke, a novel rasp that you wanted to pluck from the air and store it next to your array of books.

“Your mouth is not stupid,” he chuckled, an arm around your waist as he moved you from the library to the kitchen. You refused to look at this hallucination, instead focusing on the tiles that you had handpicked for the kitchen. Small white ones. They had a pattern in the middle, cobalt outlines of squares interwoven together to form stars of the skies.

He deposited you on the stool next to the breakfast nook and placed a glass in front of you. Condensation trickled down the glass to the island and before your clumsy hands could do any damage, your figment picked the glass and placed it on a coaster. Of course he knew what to do, imaginary men were perfect.

“I’m not imaginary, Trix,” Jungkook answered your inner monologue, amusement lacing his tone. But his mirth did not placate you, there was no way Jungkook would seek you out after he stomped on your heart. Your best friend was not that cruel. Not intentionally at least.

“Trix are for kids! Don’t call me that,” you whined, your words mumbled by the glass that he held to your lips. With the coldest glare you could manage, you stared at him as you finished the drink, refusing to acknowledge how soothing the cool water felt trickling down your throat.

“But they’re your favourite, Trix,” he retorted, bemused before running a hand over your head. You wanted to chastise your heart for skipping a beat at the platonic touch as he mussed your hair but you couldn’t help it. This always happened. You hated that he used that nickname, an inside joke that did nothing other than give you false hope. It was cute when he started. It made you flush to your toes and stutter over your words, but it was unfair how he could easily give you a pet name when your boyfriends had trouble coming up with anything that didn’t make you wince.

“What are you doing here, Jungkook?” Your voice wobbled as did you when he helped you up, moving you towards your bedroom. Tears still streaked down your face, stuffing your sinuses with regret as you leaned against his infuriatingly hard body.

“I’m taking care of you. I always take care of you,” he answered. “Watch your step.”

His answer made you fume. Why couldn’t you feel this way for Jimin? He was supposed to be your type, flirty and loud and unafraid to go after what he wanted. In comparison, Jungkook was just a shy, awkward teenager who showed more emotions when he lost a game of League. Sure, what if the way Jimin called you sugar was a little cringey, it was better than babe or doll!

“Those are all terrible pet names, Trix,” Jungkook commented, his grin audible even when you refused to look at him. All you could do was weakly punch his arm, missing wildly while he steadied you on your never-ending path to your bedroom.

You missed your bed. Your mattress was the most expensive thing you owned. Jungkook had given you a lot of shit for spending a pretty penny on it, but it was like sleeping on a cloud, so soft and plush that you could just sink in and forget about everything.

And you really needed to forget the humiliation of Jungkook’s rejection.

“I didn’t reject you. You were drunk, Trix. You didn’t mean it,” Jungkook answered your thoughts once again. “Also your bed is very comfy so I promise not to annoy you about wasting money again.”

He was laughing at you and you couldn’t help but grunt, turning around and placing a clumsy hand on his chest as you steadied yourself. Your eyes met his and you hated how you melted a little at their sparkle. He always had the prettiest eyes, round with expressive mocha irises that burned your heart. Even his lashes were pretty, long and curved like he was a newborn fawn made to be fawned at. Gathering your drunken thoughts, you came to a single conclusion.

Honesty. Best case scenario, this Jungkook was just imaginary and would disappear soon. Worst case scenario, he was real and since you had already humiliated yourself, you couldn’t dig a deeper hole.

“I did mean it! I love you, you dumb idiot,” you announced, your words surprisingly clear. Yet Jungkook still laughed, rolling his eyes as he settled you into bed, telling you again that you were drunk. But he didn’t understand and he had to understand.

“I’ve been in love with you since I saw you play in that dumb ultimate frisbee match when you were a freshman. When you lost your cool at that concert when a guy tried copping a feel. When you gave me a hug when my mom was in the hospital and everything seemed okay for a little while. I love you, Jeon Jungkook. I’ve always been insanely in love with your stupid, dumb face,” you ranted. Kneeling in front of you, Jungkook’s smile wavered into a concentrated frown, brows bunching together before he was smiling again and shaking his head.

“You love me, but you don’t love love me, Y/N,” he countered, making you groan in exasperation, hand coming to his mouth to silence him. Sometimes you hated him.

“You don’t get it, Jungkook! How do I even–” you sighed loudly, grabbing his shoulders to make him understand. But if your words wouldn’t work, maybe someone else’s would. “It is at moments after I have dreamed of the rare entertainment of your eyes, when (being fool to fancy) I have deemed with your peculiar mouth my heart made wise,” you quoted your favourite poet, eyes stuck on his. “Do you get it now?”

Jungkook stared at you for a moment, awestruck in a way that made you want to lean in and kiss him, but kissing without consent was bad, especially if he was looking for a way to reject you again. You still had at least some of your pride. And then he was laying you back and tucking you in, crushing your heart in his palm till it was dust that pricked your eyes, making them dry and watery all at once.

“We’ll talk about this in the morning, Trix. We shouldn’t when you’re not sober,” said softly, fingers running on your scalp before tracing away your tears. With all the alcohol in your system, your filter was off and all you had was misery.

“Can you at least just stay before you reject me? I need a hug,” you whispered, heartbeat accelerating when he climbed in next to you, engulfing you in his arms. He was so warm. Like your favourite blanket shielding you from the cold in the middle of winter. He needed to know the effect he had on you and even though you were feeling the drowsiness from all that whiskey, you wanted to let him in. He had to understand.

“I know you think I love you platonically. I don’t. I really don’t.”

Jungkook exhaled loudly, moving away so only his forearm acted as a pillow for you. Lying on his side he looked at you, eyes tracing your features as you tried your best to keep yours open.

“You’re drunk. We’ll talk about it in the morning,” he said finally. With mere inches between you, you felt your face heat, your thoughts pouring over your tongue without your consent.

“Jungkook, do you know what a spreader bar is?” you asked, staring at him as his eyes widened. He blinked slowly a few times before landing on his back, looking straight at the ceiling.

“Jesus… yes, Trix. I know what that is.”

“I want you to use it on me,” you continued, loose-lipped and hazy. There was no chance you’d remember this in the morning so why not just go all out and let him in on your fantasies. “Tie me up and bend me over. Fuck me so hard I forget my name. God, I wanna be pinned under you so bad.”

“Stop. Fuck… stop, please,” he whispered, his teeth worrying the inside of his cheek in a way you only saw when he was angry. Was he angry? Is that why even in the dim light of the room you could see his ears slowly turning red?

“Still think I like you platonically?” you asked, tone much more mischievous than you had planned. “Would you choke me? Make me lose my breath as you kiss me or will you be nice and gently hold my jaw when you kiss me? I think about that a lot, you know.”

He groaned, his free arm coming to rest over his eyes. He seemed resigned and somehow that made you grin, especially when he sighed loudly before speaking. “Fucking hell Y/N… please just go to sleep.”

“I wanna feel your tongue between my thighs and—“ Before you could finish, he turned, a hand coming to rest gently over your lips.

“Sleep! You need to go to sleep!” he exclaimed in a panic that made your nerves tingle and your stomach warm.

“Why?” you mumbled against his fingers before he removed them.

“Cause you’re making me hard and I need you to be sober when I tell you I love you too,” he replied in a whine that was equal parts adorable as it was surprising. Did he say he loved you too? What a ridiculous concept! You were positive you were imagining him now.

“Wow, you really are a hallucination,” you giggled. This was a nice dream. You liked how all the edges of light were soft in it, how it seemed as if you were floating in bliss. Dream Jungkook was amazing. He felt so real. You wished you never woke up. Especially when exasperated by your chuckles, his arm wound around you and pulled you close, plastering you to his body.

“Does that feel like a hallucination to you?” he rasped, his exhale hitting on your forehead. His comment diverted your attention to the weight poking against your stomach. You wanted to rub up against him but your body felt heavy, powerless against the haze around you.

“Go to sleep now,” he ordered softly and you couldn’t help how your eyelids fluttered shut at his words. Drowning in his scent of fresh lavender laundry, you felt safe and coddled and finally sleepy.

“You’ll be here when I wake up?” you asked, needing the confirmation that the comfort of his arms wouldn’t disappear, even when you sure he was just a figment of your imagination.

“I’ll be here, Trix. Go to sleep.”

“I love you. I really do, you know,” you assured him, getting a giggle in response.

“I’m starting to believe you do, yes.” You felt his lips land on your forehead, so soft and warm that it felt as if falling into slumber was the easiest thing to do. You wrapped your arms around him, snuggling in closer, enjoying the steady beat of his heart as he whispered once again.

“Good night, Y/N.”

—————

Your head was pounding when you woke up. A drummer having its solo, double bass and all. With a groan you opened your eyes to an unmade bed and curtains wide open to the infuriating morning sun. Needles prickling your throat, you say up only to be interrupted by the smell of bacon, the heavenly grease so inviting that your dry mouth watered instantly.

Why was someone making bacon at your home? Last you checked you lived alone.

Slow as molasses, you got out of bed, your eyes zoning onto the glass of water and a few painkillers sat on your bedside table. Without further ado, you drowned the glass, the relief near instant.

And with the relief came the memories. Whiskey. Wuthering Heights. Jungkook. Confessions. Spreader bars. And Jungkook’s words that were no longer so innocent in the morning light.

“Cause you’re making me hard and I need you to be sober when I tell you I love you too.”

Holy. Fuck. Was that real? Did Jungkook really just confess to you? Did you really feel him when he pulled you close last night?

All semblance of a hangover dissolved in the sudden adrenaline rushing through you, pumping your heart into a frenzy that propelled your legs to carry you to the kitchen. Jungkook stood at the stove, frying bacon as he hummed something under his breath. You stared at him as he worked undisturbed, frying bacon, before snapping his fingers and rushing to the plastic bag at the end of your breakfast nook.

You had decided to watch him quietly but as soon as he pulled out the red box, laughter bubbled through you, effervescent and fizzling. He stared at you, joining you with his own giggles as he walked over waving the box of cereal.

“Trix for my Trix,” he said with a grin that scrunched his nose and made his eyes disappear. So cute that your heart skipped a beat and your filter disappeared.

“So I made you hard?” you asked, immediately slapping a hand over your mouth. Perhaps you were still drunk. Jungkook on the other hand just chuckled, bowing his head and running his hand over the nape of his neck. His dark hair fell into his face, covering the blush you loved so much.

“Yeah. Yeah you did,” he confirmed sheepishly.

The silence between you was a little stunted; awkward and too long for people who were meant to be best friends. Before long, Jungkook was distracted by the task of making breakfast, his attention on the pan as he cooked scrambled eggs and bacon, plating them for the two of you. The silence continued as you ate, but you weren’t one to hold your tongue for too long, wanting to just rip the bandaid off and address the very giant elephant in the room.

“Can you please reject me already? This is too embarrassing,” you bemoaned, trying to drown the prickly heat that climbed up your neck with orange juice. Jungkook’s fork paused on the way to his mouth, his eyes large and alert. He swallowed loudly, placed the fork back on his plate and then cleared his throat.

“I… I’m not gonna reject you,” he said softly, his tone so gentle it made you curl your hands into fists to brace yourself for the opposite. “I just… I still can’t believe you love me too…”

You always read about how time slows when you are having a stroke. But you were also meant to smell burnt toast and right now other than the smell of the delicious breakfast in front of you, there was nothing suspicious. Yet, your heart was racing, your palms were sweating and you could feel your legs quivering even when you were sitting down.

“Too?” you asked in disbelief and he nodded, smiling but infuriatingly quiet. Slamming your fist on the table, much to Jungkook’s amusement, you glared at him. “Please spell it out like I spelled it out for you,” you seethed.

“Yes, Trix. I love you. Ever since you walked into my dorm room two days after we met, pulled the plug on my PC, made me lose my ranked game and demanded I go outside and make new friends,” he teased with an eye roll.

“Are you fucking serious?”

“Yes. If you stayed last night instead of running back here and reenacting Doctor Sleep, we could’ve talked it out,” he grumbled, the smile still ever present. With a shake of his head, he stood up, making his way over to you and pulling you up from your seat. Eyes blinking and hands shaking, you looked up at him, your skin burning where it touched you – one hand on the small of your back and the other at the nape of your neck. His thumb caressed your jaw as his eyes traced over your face.

You felt light headed, your breaths too quick to catch, each nerve ending sparking relentlessly. You bit your lip in an anticipation that only made Jungkook move slower, leaning closer and closer till his nose was brushing against yours lightly. His lips barely touched yours and you were frozen, relishing his breath on your skin, fingers curling into the material of his shirt on his chest.

“Kiss me,” you requested, earning a giggle from your tease of a best friend.

“Okay,” he whispered, finally sealing your lips. It wasn’t the rough kiss of your fantasies, nor  gentle innocence of your daydreams. It was searing, tilting your world on its axis. It felt like he was breathing fire into you, yet your whole body was erupting into goosebumps. It felt like colours bursting in the wind.

It was life changing and you wanted more.

Wrapping your arms around his neck, you stood on your toes to deepen the kiss and he easily acquiesced, his arms fitting perfectly around your waist. His lips moved against yours, the tip of his nose grazing ever so lightly against your cheek. When you moaned against him, too overwhelmed to see anything but stars, he picked you up and placed you on the table, easily fitting between your legs. With a hand on your neck, his thumb gently pulled at your chin till his tongue met yours, making you shiver so violently that he broke away with a laugh, his forehead resting on yours as he caught his breath.

“More,” you asked and his lips met yours once again. This was better than anything you could've ever imagined. You didn’t know how long you kissed, but all you knew was that you never wanted to stop. Especially when he nipped your lower lip in a way that sent a current zapping all the way down to your toes. And then his lips slowed until he was pecking at you, once, twice, three times, his hands cradling your jaw.

Dazed, all you could say was, “Are you going to fuck me on this table?” and Jungkook laughed, loud and boisterous, hugging you to his chest. And what a great chest it was.

“But don’t I need to go get a spreader bar and some bondage tape for that?” he asked with a grin, kissing your forehead, once, twice, three times.

“I mean… we could do that next time?”

“If you think after years of being in love with you, I’m going to let you have your first time on the kitchen table, you are sorely mistaken, Trix,” he replied, a finger coming up to boop your nose.

“Virginity is a social construct!” you protested, but Jungkook just shook his head, kissing away your complaints.

“You fell in love with a romantic, so let me romance you,” he whispered, hands tangled with yours, his words sending a warmth through you.

You never thought you would be someone who would enjoy being romanced. But when Jungkook drove you to the park for your first date with a picnic he had packed from his early morning grocery run, he proved you wrong. Sitting on the grass with Jungkook’s arm around you, you thought about all the books in your collection, and how with their endless words they still couldn’t capture the glow of your love fulfilled.

Perhaps reality was better than pretty hallucinations after all.

-

taglist -  @awhnamjoon​ @alpacaseoks @raplinesmoon @codeinebelle @aislinnstanaka @miscelunaaa @moonchild1 @shydestinyyouth @itsjaneeet @piecesofapril11 @yoontaethings @jeonyreads @pb-n-juju @everythingaboutfangirling

Thank you for reading this fic! If you liked it, please tell me your thoughts. I appreciate your feedback! 

Please reblog and check out more stories on my masterlist <3

#jungkook x reader #jungkook fluff #jungkook smut #jungkook angst #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fic #bts fanfic #bts x reader #bts scenarios #thebtswritersclub #52hertz #btshoneyhive #bangtanbathhouse #clubzerooclock #ficscafe #purplearmynet

[hyunsvngs]

Juno can I get your thoughts about how skz are behaving at the club?? Who's just having a great time drinking and dancing w you, who is getting rabidly jealous, who is fckin u in the bathroom, who is drunkenly confessing, etc

Can be in context of a relationship or just friends/ flirtationship, your call!

HAHAH I LOVE THIS!! also the term 'flirtationship' i have never heard of JESUS i love that. that's me and all of my friends.

bringing the receipts in btw:

chan: i know it's a bit cliche but he's definitely the dad. he'd have a great time having a boogie with u but he has to keep an eye on everyone!! i'm p sure chan said before he doesn't rly drink much and then there's that one pic of skz where they all look BLASTED that chan took so like. i'm p sure he's keeping an eye on everyone but still having a good time!

minho: he seems like the type to get such a lovey drunk. i'm thinking about that one show where he's doing shots of soju and then he's telling hanhae that he loves him (5:24) LMAO like he's definitely an affectionate drunk. probs tries to kiss you and then vehemently denies it the next morning

changbin: god imagining changbin drunk is so cute.. like his cheeks all flushed PLEASE!! i think he'd be even louder than normal lmao and definitely loves a dance and perhaps also karaoke. he's a bit feral tbh. bounces off the walls but cuddles u when he crashes.

hyunjin: oh i know he's feral. dances like this and gets absolutely white girl wasted every single time. there's no 'tipsy' with hyunjin it's only sober and then black out drunk. definitely has drunk messy make outs with u and thinks he's the shit (he is). he'd cringe at himself the next day with crippling hangxiety but as soon as u reassure him he's fine <3

jisung: makes weird cocktail concoctions (refer to my hbs series HAHAH) and talks incoherently. massive lightweight too. passes out fully clothed. definitely the drunk make out kinda guy and 100% the type to jerk off before he goes to sleep but passes out halfway through with his hand on his dick (i'm sorry but it's true). definitely the type to try and fuck you in the bathroom

felix: definitely tries to hide how fucked he is. like he tries to claim he's not a lightweight but he just FUCKING IS!! i can imagine him getting dragged into a lot of jisung's schemes and the two just end up in a corner wasted lol. he's definitely the drunken confession type of guy too!! "i'm not drunk, i mean it, i really do love you!" and then the next day he's all "ok so.. i was drunk. but i do love you."

seungmin: he's definitely the jealous type. sees u dancing with someone else and he's like WHAT... and just sulks in the corner until one of the boys cheers him up. has to have u on his lap for the rest of the night!! tbh i can't imagine seungmin as a heavy drinker but i think he definitely gets a little tipsy and ends up a bit more cuddly with u <3 the boys will tease him for it afterwards

jeongin: speaking from someone who's two years younger than innie i think he's still young and will frequently take it too far. you might end up looking after him when he gets a little too drunk lol but he's cute so it's soooo ok <3

#juno’s asks ♡ #sweet baby anon #asks: ot8

[mrskokushibo]

From Desire

I NSFW I 18+ I MDNI I

A/N: This story is inspired by an Ask from the lovely @cursetopia ❤️ as well as my rp with Kokushibo involving an o/c I created. It is very au-ish and not my usual style. But let's see what you guys think. Next week I will be back with a "proper" smut: the requested Kokushibo x nun!reader- it will be dirrrrty 😁😁🔥

Synopsis: Kokushibo has an affair and it results in his mistress getting pregnant.

Warnings: SMUT. Oral. Vaginal penetration. Kokushibo x o/c.

Word count: 3832

Masterlist

She was sitting peacefully with her eyes closed listening to the sounds of swords clashing coming from the courtyard. To her, it was the closest thing to music, being a seasoned warrior and a swordsman herself she could distinguish each different strike and parry by only listening to how the metal resonated upon contact. The force, the angle of attack, and the type of blow gave out a unique tone, not dissimilar to singing or an instrument, that created a unique musical score. This always triggered her senses to pick up a katana and join in the lethal dance.

She loved nothing more than to practice her sword techniques, but it brought her almost as much joy knowing, that her beloved child was learning from the same man that once taught her. A few deep breaths and she was done with her meditation. She stood up and straightened her exquisite kimono, it was black and adorned with red and purple dragonflies. The obi was golden with one single red dragonfly on one side. Slowly and quietly, she walked up toward the open shoji door and without getting noticed, leaned on the frame with her arms crossed, observing the two warriors training in the courtyard. The dimmed light from the lanterns illuminating the enclosed space was causing orange flashes to reflect on the metal of the blades, giving the sparring a resemblance to lightning flashes crashing at immense speeds.

They were magnificent to watch. The two Upper Moons, Kokushibo and her son, Hayate. Their technique was flawless, it was almost like a dance with both opponents striking and parrying with pre-calculated precision. They were such impressive men too, her son’s resemblance to Upper Moon One was striking: he had the same tall and massive build, and he also shared a similarly handsome face with six eyes, though these eyes were pale jade green, just like hers. He had long, thick unruly black hair with purple streaks, that he tied up in a half ponytail, with most of the glorious locks hanging down freely and cascading like a cape down his back.

But he was also so different from his father: where Kokushibo was stoic and reserved, with very few words to ever say to anyone, Hayate was playful and chatty and he was never far away from firing the most charming of smiles. His personality was mischief personified and he was so alike her in character that it often made her shake her head at his adventures. His popularity with the female demons was immense, but luckily the young man was also just as ambitious and focused as his father, so these types of adventures were relatively under control. Although, she did hear rumours about a few hearts getting broken thanks to Hayate. She knew all too well how that felt and secretly sympathised with the females. But she did not have much influence over his romantic choices, just as she did not have any control over his father’s …. If only things were different… she sighed, but quickly rejected the thought.

The two males stopped practicing and the younger threw his head back in laughter:

‘You are getting slow, father. A few more years and we will be swapping places’

His eyes sparkled as he sheathed his katana sticking it under the obi of his sober black outfit.

Kokushibo’s reaction was as expected, a shake of the head and a sigh

‘Son, you do not wish to change the hierarchy. It will cause uproar.’

His limited sense of humour was funny on its own and caused Hayate to often tease him almost to a breaking point. Throughout the years she always admired Kokushibo’s patience with the head-strong and energetic boy. She only wished that these moments together were more frequent, but this would not have been possible.

At the time that Hayate was conceived, Kokushibo already had a fiancée, a stunning Upper Moon demon, so her own existence had to quickly be hidden away. With the exception of Muzan, who needed to know everything that was happening at the Infinity Castle, and surprisingly Douma, who was more supportive of her than of the prudish Kokushibo in that specific instance. Her affair with Upper Moon One caused enough of a scandal and the presence of his pregnant mistress would simply be damaging to his reputation. So, together with Muzan, Kokushibo organised for her to stay in a lavish mansion within the confines of the Infinity Castle, but hidden away well enough that not even Nakime knew of its existence. Well, especially not Nakime…

She never lacked anything and her life raising Hayate was one filled with joy. Her sociable nature allowed her to gain a tight-knit circle of friends, and…she became close with Douma. A very physical relationship that never seemed to drain out of fuel for the carnal passion they shared. As for Kokushibo…well, they still shared their moments… but overall, the friendship they shared was the foundation of their interactions and a prerequisite to being able to raise Hayate without conflicts.

Her train of thought was interrupted by Kokushibo.

‘I must go now. Muzan summoned me on a mission again. By the way, our son is progressing well. This makes me glad’

Hayate butted in on the conversation: ‘Progressing well? But Father, I am beyond that, I nearly beat you.’ He laughed again and winked at her.

‘Only because I let you’

Kokushibo replied, but now with a little smirk in the corner of his mouth. He gave his son a pat on the back. There was so much love in their interaction and she could not have been more grateful for that. Fathers and sons not always got along, Kokushibo experienced that on his own skin, and maybe that was part of the reason he was such a great parent to Hayate.

He turned to her again:

‘Are you going to be …. alone tonight?’

It always amused her, how from the very beginning of their interactions, he was so concerned over her romantic interests. Odd for someone claiming to have no real interest in her…

‘You know I won’t be.’

She smiled gently and blushed at the thought of what she and her lover had in store for tonight. Especially, since Hayate was out of the mansion pursuing his own desires with some new female.

Upon his leave, she gave Kokushibo a hug and he reciprocated, squeezing her small body in friendly affection.

‘Please, stay safe’ she whispered to him.

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

18 years earlier

It was a lazy week, with all missions called off and Infinity Castle more quiet than usual. Kokushibo was resting in his large mansion awaiting a visit from a female lower-rank demon. It was unusual for him to have visitors other than his fiancée, but he made an exception for this one. The female demon requested the visit with endorsement from Muzan-sama himself, which sparked Kokushibo’s interest.

  ‘Master, she is here’ a servant appeared bowing to him.

Without a word and with a subtle hand gesture Kokushibo indicated that she could be let in. The servant moved to the side to let the female in and left quietly sliding the door behind him. He observed the female in silence as she slowly moved to the middle of the room and bowed politely, accompanied only by the gentle shuffle of silk upon silk. She was dressed in an expensive black kimono with red, gold, and purple details, that was hugging her hourglass figure. Her hair was long, shiny, and dark purple. And when she finally lifted her gaze to him, he was met with a pair of large, sparkling pale jade green eyes. But what caught his attention was that she had a katana at her side.

‘What is your name, demon?’ He decided to break the silence.

‘Akatsuki, my Lord.’

‘Hmm, tell me, Akatsuki. What brings you here?’

She was becoming a little wary, his deep voice and presence intimidating her more than she expected. She steadied herself and responded.

‘I am here by Lord Muzan’s recommendation. I would like to respectfully ask you to train me.’

Kokushibo was taken aback by her directness. Train her? Why would he do something like that? He looked her up and down and tilted his head back pursing his lips and narrowing his eyes.

‘That is a very bold request. Who are you to ask such a thing of me?’

Akatsuki’s heart sank for a moment. But then she remembered Lord Muzan’s instructions: *tell your story in a compelling manner and you will see that he is not as scary as he comes across*

She straightened her back and started talking.

‘Very well, my Lord. Would you care to hear my story if that is what is required for you to make up your mind?’

‘Yes, go ahead.’ He had time and did not mind a good story, as long as it was not him doing the talking.

‘Well, Master. I come from a faraway place called Europa. I lived in a time before you even were born. I always enjoyed books and learning how things worked, I gained knowledge in how to treat wounds and deliver children, and soon enough I was busy helping the local people with their health problems. Unfortunately, I also attracted the attention of men, and when that attention was given by the wrong one, upon rejection, his hurt pride made him report me to the Church for practicing witchcraft. When the inquisitors tormented me, I no longer prayed to God for mercy, because what evil deity would allow for such misdoing? No, I prayed that demons would avenge me, if hell was where they thought I belonged that it might just as well be hell that saves me.’

‘ And so, on the night preceding my execution, a demon approached me in my dark cell and offered me a transformation. And I accepted. I never once regretted my decision as my life has been an adventure, I never thought possible. I traveled the continent as I pleased, learned magic from the WItchers of Eastern Europe, and entertained powerful men in the courts of the West and in the Harems of the exotic Middle East. Eventually, the people over there learned how to kill demons and my life was in danger once again. But as it seems to be my fate I got lucky once more, in the Harem of the Sultan of Turkey I met a courtesan, a stunning oriental beauty and she told me tales of the new powerful Demon King, Muzan, that was gaining power in Japan.’

‘For me, the decision was an easy one. I arrived in Japan in the late Sengoku era. I was quickly introduced to lord Muzan who was curious about a demon not originating from his own blood. This was also the reason I could never rise in the ranks as my powers were so different from the local demons. Nevertheless, I gained his trust and since then I have served him well. You know, Master, I spotted you on one of my first visits to Lord Muzan, but never dared approach you. It took me decades and a lot of sword training to even dare ask Lord Muzan to put in a word for me with you. Thank you for giving me your time to listen to my story.’

She bowed to him and went silent.

Kokushibo was clearly fascinated by her story. He had his eyes fixated on her all the while she was talking and when she stopped, after a moment of silence, he responded.

‘Very well, then. I will train you if you have the aptitude. Be ready tomorrow. I will summon you.’

‘Thank you, my Lord’ She gave him a deep bow and quietly left the room.

In the weeks and months that followed, their training progressed seamlessly. Her aptitude and skills were more than sufficient and he was amazed that she really was one of the best sword fighters he has ever encountered. Of course, he knew she would never reach his level as he was the best there was, but the effort and steady progress were leaving him very satisfied. To her surprise and relief, he was a very patient and fair sensei. Never losing his temper or trying deliberately to harm her.

Their relationship slowly evolved into friendship, she even noticed he was beginning to understand her sense of humour. As for him, he really enjoyed how lively she was, he was never bored around her and it was almost as if she had the ability to bring out the child in him. Everything seemed perfect until that fateful night. As friendly as their interactions were, she was a very hotblooded female, and being around him did not leave her unmoved...

She was extremely attracted to him sexually. He was impressive and her senses were sometimes playing tricks on her, beyond what she could have any control over. Her thoughts wandered to dirty places and she was undressing him in her mind, imagining him doing things to her. She tried to never think like this with him present, but afterward, she was forced to touch herself. She was always worried whether he could sense her feelings, him having constant and uninterrupted access to the transparent world…

On that night, she was interrupted in her sleep by someone barging into her chamber. It was Kokushibo, standing there at the foot of her futon with his katana drawn, ready to attack. She sprang out of bed, wearing essentially nothing more than her breast binding and a minuscule fundoshi. She quickly grabbed her katana from underneath her bed and positioned herself in a defensive stance.

‘What are you doing here, my Lord?’

‘A warrior should always be prepared. See this as a surprise training.’

Without giving her a chance to get dressed, he attacked. She quickly parried and rolled away, but he kept on going. A thought struck her and she smiled, *how about this, Master. I’m not decent, so neither should you be* With a quick and light strike of her katana, she slashed through both his obi and the belts holding up his hakama, making all his clothes drop to the floor. He was furious.

‘You will pay for this.’

His attack was powerful, and when she attempted to block, his sheer weight made her fall backward resulting in them both tumbling down onto the futon. He was now on top of her with his sword pressing hers down toward her neck. And it was then that she felt it, the familiar bulge pressing on her thigh. He was getting an erection... She was quickly distracted from any indecent thoughts forming as the pressure from his sword was so hard that her katana suddenly snapped in two, her barely managing to roll out from underneath him, barely escaping having her throat cut.

As she lifted her head up, she saw him shift to the side, he was facing her, about to speak and that is when her thoughts started to drift off in a dangerous direction. She was scanning his magnificent body, his broad shoulders and voluminous chest, the perfect triangle running down to his groin, and … the huge, now fully erect cock. Her instinct took over and she slowly crawled back to him, sitting down next to him, she placed her hand on his chest at the level with his heart and used the other to run through his hair. She looked him straight in the eye and spoke:

‘Master, I know this is wrong to ask of you, but I would like you to take me, here and now. I am yours to do what you please with. I want to serve you, worship you…’

He did not pull away, nor stopped her hands from touching him. He was nearly double her size and shamelessly strong, yet he took no action to halt her.

‘I will do no such thing. I did not choose to unrobe. This was your doing.’

He spoke, keeping up the appearance of defiance. It was as if he wanted her to act, to unburden him from a decision he did not want to make, but at the same time initiate something he so deeply desired to happen.

She could feel his heart beating faster under the palm of her hand, and his chest heaving with strained breathing. With the same hand, she started to trace down his chest and when she reached his groin, she started massaging gently around his cock, without touching it yet. Pearls of precum started to leak out of the tip and she could hear him sigh quietly.

‘Do not do this. I warn you. I am a samurai, my honour does not allow for this. Stop or you will pay.’

But she knew better than to listen to futile threats.

‘Samurai, my Lord, had concubines.’

She did not seize her movement, instead, she snaked her delicate hand on the shaft of his cock, grabbed hold of it, and began to slowly, but firmly pump it up and down, smearing the precum on the entire length. Her hand barely fit around his sizeable manhood, so she leaned down and wrapped her mouth around the leaking tip. She became completely engulfed in the action, mesmerised by his taste and the feel of both the softness of his skin and the hardness of the cock it covered.  

‘You need to stop…..doing this.’

His whisper sounded more like a moan now. She pulled away from him, her lips wet and pouting from the sucking action and she gave him the most innocent look with her big green eyes:

‘Master, make me stop then, it is your choice, you could overpower me with ease…but… you are still here.’

She moved closer to his face and placed her hand on his chest again, whispering

‘I know there is a beast sleeping inside you, I want to see it awaken. Ravage me, Master. Show me how powerful you truly are.’

There was complete silence after this. Him gazing at her with narrowed eyes.

A second later he flipped her on her back and pushed her down into the mattress with nearly his full body weight. He hissed in her ear:

‘I am furious, that you drove me to do this.’

And with that, he shoved the entire length of his huge cock into her, without any consideration for whether she was ready or not. And was she ever more ready… her arousal has been driving her crazy throughout their entire verbal exchange, making her pussy sopping wet and aching from clenching on nothing. So, him filling every last inch of her insides like this made her instantly moan in pleasure. He was literally plowing into her. His thrusts hard and deep. Every sensitive spot inside her was now being stimulated, she was tracing her hands all over his strong, brawny back and through his thick mane.

She was about to burst, edging for what felt like an eternity, and when her orgasm finally came, she was about to scream uncontrollably. He was quick to put his large hand on her mouth to muffle the scream. Her body was still arching in the after-spams of her pleasure, her bucking her hips into him, when he slowly stopped and removed his hand from over her mouth. She pulled his head down into a kiss and he reciprocated, their tongues exploring their mouths hungrily, tasting, devouring each other.

He pulled his head back and placed her in a mating press, his large hands pressing her thighs tight down toward her torso. He resumed thrusting his hips into her at an ungodly pace, the tip of his cock kissing the entrance to her cervix. She could tell he was slowly losing control, dissolving into his pleasure. All of a sudden, he leaned over her, put his face on the side of her neck, and sank his fangs into her soft skin, drawing just a little bit of blood. She moaned loudly as this elicited indescribable pleasure.

He cupped one of her breasts and started squeezing it while playing with her nipple. Each squeeze made her back arch in overstimulation. His thrusts were getting faster and the room was filled with her moaning and the lewd sound of skin slapping against skin. His thrusts became sloppy, deeper, and needier, with the tip of his cock now entering her cervix. At last, he lost all control and came with a growl, pumping her full of his fertile cum.

He stayed inside her for a while, collapsed lying on top of her, in complete silence with only their hearts beating in sync. Eventually, he moved off her, pressed his head to hers, and placed his huge arm on top of her until they both drifted off to sleep.

---

During the following weeks, the shame of what happened between them kept them apart. Both of them too proud to give each other the satisfaction of showing remorse. However, Akatsuki was starting to feel … strange. Her heat never came since they fucked and she started feeling nauseous in the mornings. She realised that she was pregnant. She gathered her courage and approached him.

‘Good evening, my Lord’

She was pale, her hands were shaking and she had to hide the tears steadily pooling in her eyes.

‘I need to tell you something. I am afraid that our little…encounter, had consequences, more precisely one consequence. You are going to be a father.’

She was prepared for the potential punishment. Him driving her away or worse: killing her. But his reaction stunned her more than anything of the above. Without a word he walked up to her and grabbed her shaking hands, steadying them. His breathing was heavy and his speech almost stammering.

‘I will love this child with all my heart. We will need to make arrangements so you receive all the help you need with raising it. I believe it will have great powers. As for us, due to my status, I am not in a position to offer you my love, but my friendship is something you will never lose. There is nothing you can do to lose it. Do you understand?’

And with that, he hugged her and held her like this for a long time.

‘I will have a new katana made for you, you will need one to keep your practice up as I want someone to train my son the times I am not available to do so’

His words put a big smile on her face.

And thus, arrangements were made, she was looked after during her pregnancy and when the male child finally arrived in this world, she named him Hayate, the name synonymous with a suddenly approaching hurricane, as that is how he entered her world from the very moment of the stormy night of his conception.

A child born from desire and into love.

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

Banner by @cafekitsune

Artwork downloaded from Wallpapers.com

Huge thanks to my friend @kokusfluffyhair for inspiration and for her amazing rp blog @koku-shibou 🙏❤️❤️😘. My o/c has so much fun with your muse 😊😍💕

Tagging my lovelies ❤️: @tired-writer04 @koyuki-the-flower @akaza-dono-the-basketball @doumadono @paintoreos @fuckkyourlife @abandonedhhearts @cursetopia

#demon slayer #smut #demon slayer smut #kny smut #kny fanfic #kimetsu no yaiba #kokushibo smut #demon slayer kokushibo #kny kokushibo #kokushibou #kny #kny oc #kny imagines #kny x oc #demon slayer imagine #kimetsu no yaiba smut #kimetsu no yaiba oc #demon slayer oc #demon slayer x oc #demon slayer fanfic #kimetsu no yaiba fanfic #kokushibo #fanfic #anime fanfic #anime and manga #manga fanfic #writer #women writers #fanfic writer

[bellewintersroe]

Max Verstappen x HornerDaughter!

Part 8, here’s the LINK to part 7, how tf have I got so far already? Pls comment guys to let me know what you’re thinking or if you have any conspiracy’s about what’s gonna happen, I love the engagement, keeps me motivated lol. Also just a quick shout out I don’t dislike Kelly, I just used her for the story as it’s FICTION, if ya’ll hate desperately on peoples partners for no justified reason then leave pls cos it’s weird. Only a short chapter but I wanna get more of a build up before we reach more deeper into the story :)

Leni wakes up with one of the worst hangovers ever, plus, she’s on the bathroom floor? That would be the worst part of the night, but when her memory pieces back together and she has to deal with what happened the night before going back to sleep on the bathroom floor seems fine… Taglist: @ironmaiden1313 @callsignwidow @fangirl125reader @norassimpingzone @roseseraj @eugene-emt-roe @copper-boom @its-elias-world @cassiopeiia24 @larastark3107

“Ugh.” My voice cracked, eyes momentarily opening only to squeeze shut again when a blinding light, sunlight, stung my eyes. My first thought was, fuck, I’d left my contact lenses in, my second, why on earth was on the bathroom floor?

Momentarily I was dazed, my eyes feeling like they had cheese shredders in them. I peeled the dry lenses out of my eyes, dropping them in the toilet. Thankfully it was a clean toilet and I didn’t wake up to my own vomit. With a groan and a slight grace, I sat up straight, blinking around the room. My phone laid besides me, and shakily, I reached out to unlock it. As I did I wanted to curl up and DIE. A drunken text from Max only caused flashbacks from the night prior. We kissed, and I really fucking enjoyed it. Me and Max kissed. Max Verstappen and I, my long time FRIEND kissed. My heavy head dropped into my palm, groaning again. I’d broken every single rule I’d set myself, NOT to go there, or at least wait a few months. Drunken me seemingly had the control of a horny 18 year old. When I realised I had 0 underwear on that’s when I became even more confused.

We hadn’t had sex? No, no. For sure we hadn’t done that. I don’t think he fingered me? Turns out they were stuffed in my bag for some bizarre reason, and I couldn’t quite piece together why on earth they weren’t actually on me. I don’t even know if I wanted to know, thinking about it too much gave me a serious case of hangxiety, and my poor stomach couldn’t tolerate it. Pathetically, I wretched over the toilet and threw up even more contents from my nights intake.

Please God, stop me being sick and I will never drink again. Ever!

It was crazy how such an extreme hungover could bring an atheist to become religious, right? With last nights actions I couldn’t even bring myself to respond to Max, plus, his message made no sense, something about being too drunk and his birthday. I felt too much shame, he probably only kissed me because he was just as fucking plastered. I was confident he’d never want to do that sober, surely not?

The only thing I could do was sit down in the shower, contemplating every single action from the night before, letting the water cleanse my skin of the pure sins. What would my dad say if he knew I’d been snogging his golden boy? It would make it awkward to say the least.

I laid in bed, hair dripping onto the pillows but I didn’t have it in me to care. I’d added too much embarrassing shit to both my private and public Instagram story which had already been viewed and most likely screenshotted thousands of times. Mortified wasn’t even the right word, if it wasn’t for my empty stomach I would’ve vomited from that alone.

Max: sorry that made no sense, hope you’re not feeling too rough this morning? thank you for coming yesterday I had such a good time Max: I hope nothing makes you feel weird from last night, it’s fine between us right?

When I awoke at 2pm I felt my chest tighten at Max’s texts. I even smiled that he had acknowledged last night, a little weird of me seeing as I wanted to pass away earlier, but with my hangover relatively slept off, my feelings for Max were coming on strong.

Leni: hey I just woke up again sorry, I had such a good time, hope you had a good bday

Leni: I don’t feel weird, we’re all good Leni: do you? I caught myself smiling a little too hard, awaiting his reply, when I saw the speech bubble of him forming a response and started giggling, I knew that I was already a goner. I was so deep down afraid of getting my heart broke seeing as Max was fresh out of a relationship (even if he’d mentally checked out) I had to push myself away from any kind of intimate interaction. It had already gone way too far.

Max: no, no not at all

Max: probably the best birthday I’ve had I hated how hard I smiled, my heart kinda sunk when I began overthinking everything I didn’t need to. It all seemed fun now, but how would something between Max and I ever work. What if he decided one day this was all too soon, or if he didn’t actually like me? Our friendship would be screwed forever. I hesitantly locked my phone, staring off into space as I began imagining every scenario possible. I’d have no option but to revert whatever happened between Max and I back into how it was before, if that was even possible. What if Max suddenly thought I was super obsessed with him and I was bugging him by texting him too often?? I scratched my head uncomfortably at the thought, cringing down to my bones at the idea I could possibly be a nuisance to him.

One way to fix this??? Cut communication online from slim to nothing- or as least as I possibly could without growing attached or seeming rude. It was a plan, and it was a plan that commenced today, as much as I didn’t actually want to do it, as long as I didn’t have a sip of alcohol I’d be fine… right?

What could go wrong?

#max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen #max verstappen x oc #max verstappen x hornerdaughter #f1 x oc #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine

[naughtyneganjdm]

Naughty or Nice - Chapter 14

Summary: The aftermath of the fight at the Greene farm and Y/N denying Negan's proposal takes place.

Characters: Negan, the reader (OC), etc.

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/51464518/chapters/134560708

Warnings: Swearing, severe angst, etc.

Notes: I'm sorry this wasn't up yesterday. I got tired and I passed out. It was a rough day. Thanks to everyone that still kept with the story. I appreciate each and every single one of you!

Twenty-four hours ago, Y/N was in the arms of the man that she loved. She was happy. She felt safe. Even though she was in pain, she felt loved and cherished. In Negan’s arms she felt more comfortable than she ever had in her life. Now? She was miserable.

This was not how Y/N thought she would be spending Christmas Eve. Alone in her apartment. Depressed and sad. Last night she was hopeful. Tonight she was miserable. Sitting in a chair in front of one of her windows that overlooked the city had her feeling more alone than she had in a very long time. Outside the snow was heavy and she felt like it fit her emotions right now. It was a vast difference from how she felt last night. Even though her father broke her, in Negan’s arms she felt far from alone.

Looking to the bottle of Cognac she had in her hand made her let out a long sigh. She probably looked ridiculous sitting in the dark alone. Having the lights off just fit her mood better. There was a darkness settling inside of her heart after what she had done today. Turning Negan down after his beautiful proposal was terrible. Did she want to marry Negan? Of course she did. Negan was everything she could have asked for and more. He was gorgeous and he made her happy. A lot of people were never that lucky to find someone that made them feel so incredibly loved and joyous. Even in the worst of times, Negan was always good at making her feel good. Yet being at her family’s home made her realize that she didn’t think she deserved all of that. After years of trying to break away from the person that her family made her believe she was, she realized that it never left her to begin with.

Turning Negan down was the hardest thing she ever had done in her life. Technically they were already engaged before but telling him no made it clear that it wasn’t real to begin with. And she hated that. She hated hurting Negan because seeing him cry like he was when she left was one of the most devastating things she had ever felt in her life. What she had done was just her trying to do the right thing. Allowing him to eventually find happiness with someone better than her is what she wanted for him.

Lifting the bottle up again, she knew that it was the same one that she had shared with Negan at the Christmas party. She hadn’t drank any of it yet, but she felt like it was in her future. Getting drunk to numb the pain was beginning to sound like the only way out of her feelings and emotions right now. Sitting alone, drunk in her woes sounded much better than being sober. Of course the fact that she shared it with Negan previously had her mind lingering back to him and it hurt. Negan was an incredible man that deserved an incredible woman. Not someone like her. No matter how much she loved him, she knew it was for the best to let him go.

Observing the buildings surrounding her, she imagined that so many families were together. Getting ready to go to sleep to prepare for their big holiday. Christmas was often about joy and family. Yet here she was all alone to herself and heart broken. Right now she just wished the world would swallow her whole.

Since she had left the farm her cell phone had been off. After everything she put up with, she didn’t want to talk to anyone. Especially if it was someone from her family. Even though she loved Annette, Beth and a few others, she just knew that she couldn’t handle talking to them. So much happened that just made her feel like the worst person on the planet and it was for the best to just shut the rest of the world out.

Even thinking about everything that happened had her mind lingering to Glenn. If Glenn was really as upset about things as he claimed to be, he would have come home back to the apartment. He would have found a way. Yet, here she was. Alone. There were no doubts that Glenn was still at her family’s home likely starting a life with Maggie. Why wouldn’t he be? Love was mentioned several times there so it was clear he was in love with her older sister.

It wasn’t so much that he was in love with Maggie that upset her. It was the lack of remorse for it. There was no jealousy or really anger from it. To be fair, she never really loved Glenn. Glenn was not the man that she wanted to spend forever with. He was her friend. Probably her best friend. So, even his actions based on that alone were upsetting. Maybe he tried to call her? Maybe he didn’t. Regardless, the things he also said and did weren’t that of someone who truly cared for her either. So much time was wasted with her worrying about hurting Glenn’s feelings. Yet, the moment he found something better, Glenn eagerly jumped ship and didn’t care.

With everything going on, she had no doubt that Negan had called her. It shattered her to know that because he was trying his best. But she couldn’t face Negan or talk to him right now. It would just hurt too much. For both of them.

A soft knocking sound was heard. Originally, she thought it was just movement from another apartment until it repeated. That was definitely a knock at her door. Gazing back over her shoulder, Y/N let out a grunt. Maybe with the lights off, the person would take the hint that she wasn’t home and leave. At least she hoped they would. She wasn’t in a very talkative mood. But there it was again. Another knock. This time it was louder and determined for her to hear it. Slouching down further in the chair, she felt a lump developing in her throat. Answering that door was the last thing she wanted to do.

“Hello?” a familiar voice called out and amongst the silence. It made her heart skip a beat. Clutching tightly to the neck of the bottle, she sat forward in the chair and sighed. She knew that voice. Setting the bottle down next to the chair on the ground, she bit at her bottom lip and determined her next move. “I know you’re in there Y/N. I asked the doorman if you were here and he told me that you were. He’s the one that let me up here. So please open the door.”

“Fuck,” she scoffed hating that she was even debating not answering the door. Once the next knock was heard, she slowly stood from her seat. This was a case where she couldn’t not answer the door. Heading over toward the door, she was sluggish in the way that she moved. Depression had taken its toll on her. Probably her crying too. It had brought forth an exhaustion and weakness into her that she couldn’t describe. If she would have known what was good for her, she would have been in bed right now trying to sleep it off, but she wasn’t.  

“I hear you moving around in there, so please…just open the door,” the voice begged once more from the other side. Was she really making that much noise? Flicking the lights on, she heard another knock and shook her head.

“I’m coming,” she assured them with a sigh, finally getting to the door. Undoing the lock, she pulled the door open. Being met by the familiar set of hazel eyes had her clutching onto the knob and the doorframe at the same time releasing a long exhale deep from within her. “Beau? What are you doing here?”

“I’m here to talk to you,” Beau pulled the hood of his jacket down, his cheeks a rose color from the snowstorm that he had obviously been in. Tugging at the hat he was wearing, Beau shoved it into the pocket of his jacket. Slicking his hair back, Beau tried to straighten his dark hair that had gotten messed. Shifting on his feet, Beau seemed nervous at first before pushing his hands into his pockets. “Thank you for opening the door. I was wondering if you were going to ignore me.”

“I’d never ignore you,” she whispered, reaching out to brush her fingers in over Beau’s cheek to feel the coolness of his rosy cheeks against her touch. It had Beau’s long eyelashes coming to a close and she sighed. Brushing her fingers through Beau’s dark hair, she stepped out in the hallway to see that Beau was alone. “Is your father here?”

Upon her question, Beau’s hazel eyes grew wide and he cleared his throat uneasily, “About that…”

“Beau?” she tipped her head to the side realizing that he was avoiding the question.

“We were at home in the apartment, watching movies…” Beau began, throwing his hands up in the air when he spoke. “I know I shouldn’t have done it, but I got Erin to distract him. I told him I was going to go grab something from the kitchen and…I snuck out.”

“Beau! Your father must be worried sick about you,” she commented, grasping tightly to the doorknob. Mirroring his father’s expressions, Beau tipped his head from side to side and let out a long sigh.

“Not really,” Beau’s face scrunched up, his lips parting when he contemplated what she said. A dramatic expression flooded his young features, his eyebrows bouncing up. “Okay, that’s a lie. He was furious with me for taking off.”

“I can imagine,” she noted, folding her arms in front of her chest, resting her shoulder against the doorframe. “It’s hard to believe that he wouldn’t demand you to come home.”

“Listen, he called. A lot. He wanted to know where I was, but I wouldn’t tell him,” Beau explained to her, his words coming out almost in a whisper like he was afraid to admit this all to her. “I just told him that I was safe and that I would be home soon.”

Giving Beau a worried glance, she reached out to place her hand in over his shoulder. Stepping aside, she held her hand up in the air motioning Negan’s son into her apartment. Moving slowly, Beau stepped inside with her closing the door behind them. Leading him toward the kitchen, she placed her hand in over his shoulder motioning him toward the table. Pulling out a seat for him, she got Beau to sit down and he stared up at her with his big, hazel eyes.

“You’re freezing,” she commented, brushing her fingers in over the side of his face again. Shaking her head, she moved over toward the cupboard to pull out a mug. Setting it down on the counter, she went over to another part of the kitchen. Grabbing some items for hot chocolate, she immediately started to make him something warm. Glancing back at Beau, she noticed that his eyes were hooked on her watching her every movement. “I assume you are okay with hot chocolate?”

“Of course,” Beau whispered, placing his hands on top of the table.

“Do you want anything in your hot chocolate? Marshmallows? Whipped Cream? Peppermint? Sprinkles?” she asked, bracing her hand on the counter while she put together the hot chocolate for him in a pot on the stove. A smirk tugged at Beau’s features and he shrugged his shoulders. “What?”

“It’s nothing,” Beau shook his head, rubbing his hands together in attempts to get some warmth into them. “Surprise me.”

“Sure thing,” she went back into her cupboards to grab something else. “Why would you run away on your dad like that?”

“You have to ask?” Beau muttered, his eyes narrowing when she looked back at him. “He’s miserable Y/N. He’s doing his best to be there for us, as he always does, but I’m not stupid. We all go get a ring together for you and he comes home looking heart broken. It doesn’t take much for me to realize what happened.”

Hearing that drew a breath from her throat and she clutched tightly to the mug that she had grabbed for Beau, “I wanted to talk to you. I needed to talk to you,” Beau corrected himself with a sigh, shrugging his shoulders when he adjusted in the chair that he was in. “I knew that if I told him what I was doing, he wouldn’t let me go. He’d tell me to leave you alone. But I just…I couldn’t do that.”

“How did you even know where I lived?” she wondered, pouring the hot chocolate into the mug. Grabbing some whipped cream from the fridge, she put some on top before topping it off with chocolate sprinkles. Setting it down on the table before Beau had a small smile tugging at his lips when he looked to it. “I put some peppermint extract into it to make it more…Christmas like?”

“Thank you,” Beau accepted the mug, pulling it in closer to him on the table. Lifting it carefully, he took a small sip of the hot liquid. Lowering it made Y/N smirk when the whipped cream covered his top lip from his first sip. Grabbing a napkin for him, she slid it across the top of the table while she lowered down in the seat before him at the table. Cleaning his face off, Beau let out a hesitant laugh before stroking his fingers over the mug she gave him. “I found your address online. You can find pretty much anything on the internet if you know how to look.”

“Touché,” she agreed with him knowing that he was right. Beau took another cautious sip of the hot chocolate, getting comfortable in his seat. Once Beau set his mug down, he felt her hand sliding in over his and he lowered his stare. “You’re still freezing.”

“I’ll be okay,” Beau assured her hearing the worry in her voice. “I’ve got the hot chocolate to warm me up. I’ll just hold onto the cup.”

“You shouldn’t have come out here in the storm Beau,” she pointed out, feeling Beau’s fingers hooking with hers. “Is your father’s place even close to here?”

“Not really,” Beau was honest with her, thinking about how long it took him to get here. By the expression over her face, Beau knew that she was upset with his answer. “I had to do it Y/N. I needed to talk to you and it couldn’t wait.”

“How did you get here Beau?” she inquired, brushing his dark hair back behind his ear. Bringing the mug to his lips, Beau took a long sip of the hot chocolate that she made for him. It was obvious that he was trying to avoid the question. “Beau?”

“It’s complicated,” Beau whispered when he lowered the mug back down. There was an innocence in his eyes when he looked back to her.  

“You sound so much like your father,” she acknowledged, leaning back in her chair. An ache grew at the center of her chest thinking about how she had Negan’s son sitting with her in her apartment when he should have been home with his family.

“I got dad to talk to me about what happened with you Y/N. I know that you told him no when it came to marrying him,” Beau conceded to what he knew and it made her let out a saddened sound. “And I don’t understand why. You told my dad yes originally. The two of you were already engaged. I know you want to be with my dad. So why tell him no this time? Especially since you might be pregnant.”

“I’m not pregnant Beau,” she interrupted Beau’s thoughts noticing that he seemed confused by it. “Your dad and I really only were trying for two days.”

“That’s still two days,” Beau reminded her with a huff, “You don’t know if you are pregnant or not. But regardless, it’s still not answering my question. You said yes to marrying my dad. So much so that you two planned to have a baby together. So why suddenly have those emotions changed Y/N?”

“Because things have changed since that day Beau. That time in the woods wasn’t exactly official,” she thought of the first thing she could. But god. That sounded awful when she thought about it. A lump was growing in her throat the more she thought about it. With Beau’s hazel eyes on her, she didn’t exactly know what to say. “It’s adult stuff.”

“Come on,” Beau scoffed, his eyebrows furrowing showing that he hated that response. “I’m thirteen years old. I’m not a baby. I think I understand things more than most adults do.”

Beau reached or his mug to wrap his fingers back around it to warm himself up, “Don’t do that to me. You’ve always been honest with me. Don’t stop now.”

Hearing that took her breath away and she nodded, “Because I think your father deserves better than me. You saw what happened with my family when we were at the farm. It’s because of me everything happened. I can only imagine that the same thing will happen to your family if I’m in it. And I don’t want that to happen to your family. Sometimes if you love something, you have to let it go.”

“No, I don’t think that’s true,” Beau countered, his young features scrunching up after her answer. It surprised her that he was willing to shut her down that fast. “Anyone with eyes could see that all the drama came from your family. You were just doing your best in a situation that you were destined to fail at because the people you were fighting to get the love from were never willing to give it.”

Yeah, that last sentence was incredibly deep for a thirteen-year-old boy, but he wasn’t wrong, “Do you know what gaslighting is Y/N? because your family is a perfect example of it.”

“I…I know what gaslighting is, Beau,” she responded back with a frown, brushing her fingers over her forehead knowing that it was something that Negan had said a few times.

“Then how can you not see that is what your family did to you?” Beau pushed, sliding his chair in closer to her at the table. “I understand why you are feeling the way you do. It’s hard to have the person that is meant to love you treating you the way your father does. Abuse effects everyone differently and I’m trying to understand that, but you have to know that you are not the problem. You were never the problem. Deep down, you know that.”

Lowering her head, Y/N swallowed down hard and Beau leaned forward, “I think it scares you to be happy because you have no idea what it feels like. For the first time in your life, you knew what it was like to be happy with my dad. To not feel alone and I think that scared you because you have always been alone. You got used to it. You let the loneliness become part of you and you got scared. You let that voice inside of your head become your father. You let it tell you all the awful things that he did growing up and you decided to believe it. But that voice? It’s not real. You have to shut it out because you are not your father. You will never be him.”

Tears burned at her eyes hearing Negan’s thirteen-year-old getting emotional the more that he spoke to her, “How old are you again? Because you sure as hell don’t sound thirteen.”

“I had to grow up fast Y/N,” Beau explained, his raspy voice hitching with his eyes burning. “You think you’re a bad person. You think you don’t deserve happiness, but what was the first thing you did when I got here? You took me into your kitchen, sat me down and got me a hot chocolate to warm me up. Your first thought was to take care of me. It’s the most…mom coded thing that someone could do.”

“Beau,” she half smiled that he was going to bat for her, much like he always did since she met him. “I did what was right. Anybody would do the same thing.”

“No. No they wouldn’t,” Beau denied that thought, sliding his hand across the table to place it over hers in a supportive grasp. “Other than my dad, there is only one person in this world that would do what you just did for me and that was my mom.”

After talking about Lucille, Beau’s lips parted and he let out a tiny whimper that he clearly didn’t want to when his mom came to his mind, “I’ve experienced a lot of this world Y/N and I’ve never found someone I’ve connected with like I have you. We’re so much alike. You and I.”

“Beau, we’re so vastly different too,” she confessed and he let out a hesitant breath. Beau was so much purer than she ever thought she was.

“Yeah, because I was given a chance you never were,” Beau retorted with a frown recalling everything he knew about her family. “I’m a positive example of how things can be when people are depressed because I had a support system. I have a support system. Something you never did.”

It was amazing how a teenager understood her life so much more than most people did. A long exhale fell from her throat with Beau’s fingers curling tighter around hers, “If someone would have loved you the way you were meant to be loved when you were my age, you wouldn’t have had to feel this way. Why won’t you allow yourself the chance to finally be loved that way?”  

“Beau, I appreciate what you are doing here, but we need to call your dad. Do you have any idea what time it is?” she tried to avoid this whole thing, looking back over her shoulder to see the time. Getting up from the table, she reached for her phone that was plugged in on the counter. “We need to get you home.”

“I love you,” Beau stammered, pushing the seat back when he let out a whimpering sound. It made Y/N turn on her heel to stare out at him and he shrugged. “Not in the way that my dad loves you. That would be creepy. I love you in the way that…someone loves a mom. Or a potential mom. It wasn’t just my dad that fell in love with you. Because I love you too. And I think you feel the same way about me. Which is why it doesn’t make sense why you are doing this to yourself. Why you’re doing this to us.”

“Beau,” she frowned hearing him start to cry. Moving forward, she lowered down before him and knelt on her knees. Reaching out, she stroked her fingers in over the side of his face attempting to comfort him. “Of course I love you. How couldn’t I love you? You are the most amazing young man I’ve ever known.”

Hearing his cries continue, Y/N lifted up and felt his arms wrapping around her tightly to hug her. Hushing him, she stroked her fingers through his dark hair and felt her heart breaking, “I’m so sorry. I didn’t want to hurt you. That is the one thing I wanted to avoid more than anything.”

“And you thought by taking the one person I’ve connected with the most since my mom passed away would be the way to do that?” Beau’s bottom lip tremored when he pulled back enough to stare out at her. “You didn’t just have my dad falling in love with you Y/N. I did too. And I don’t think it’s fair that you are letting your family take us away from you and you away from us. Because all of us are miserable Y/N.”

It broke her heart to hear that. What she was doing she thought was best for Negan and his family, but hearing how broken Beau was over everything hurt.

“I know you think you don’t belong with my dad…with us,” Beau started with a broken breath, “But I’m certain that my mother sent you to be with us. That you were meant to find my dad because…she knew that me and my dad…we were both broken. That we both needed someone like you in our lives.”

Motioning her to wait, Beau took out his wallet and stood from the table. Pulling out the drawing that Y/N had done for Beau had a breath catching in her throat seeing that he had kept it. When they talked in the past, he told her that he carried two notes with him always. One from his mother and another from his father. Seeing that she was added to the notes took her breath away. Grabbing one of those other notes from his wallet, Beau unfolded it, put it down on the table and pointed between both of them.

“To Beau, your heart shines brighter than the sun. Never stop being you because you are one in a million. You’re a shining star in the night sky,” Beau read what she had written to him with the drawing when they had spent time together that first time. Pointing to the note that was a little more withered, Beau shook his head and let out a whimpering breath. “My sweet Beau, your heart shines brighter than the sun. Never let that leave you because you are one in a million. You’re my shining star and never stop shining.”

Beau’s hand dropped at his side, the tears sliding down his face harder after he read both things to her. A shuddering breath fell from her throat after hearing Beau compare both things. Dramatically Beau pointed between both her drawing and the note from his mother, “If that’s not a fucking sign, I don’t know what is.”

Wiping at his eyes with the back of his hand, Beau stared out at Y/N and bit down on his bottom lip, “I know you’re not her. I know that. I’m smart enough to know that. I’m old enough to not be that stupid, but I think my mom is out there somewhere. Maybe she’s one of the stars out in there in the sky. I think she saw that I was broken. That dad was broken. And I think she found you and she brought us together. Even if it was in a way that you consider wrong, it happened for a reason. You were meant to find my dad. You were meant to find me.”

Shakily reaching her hand out, Y/N hooked her fingers with Beau’s and he instinctively grasped a tight hold of them, “I saw my mom die, Y/N. She died in my father’s arms holding onto my hand,” Beau thought back on the hardest moment of his life. “My father has always been the strongest man I’ve ever known. But that day? I watched him break down. I’ve never seen him cry like that. And he wouldn’t let go of her. It took a long time before he was finally willing to let her go,” Beau was sobbing and she didn’t know what she could do to make everything better other than to listen. “That night I watched the light in him disappear. My dad was broken hearted and there was no fixing it. It was gone. And it was gone from me too. But I tried to hide it the best I could. My mother asked me to watch over him before she died, so I did. I held it in. And I never saw that light return to him, until I saw him with you. Something I never thought I would see again with my father, I saw when he was with you.”

Not crying was impossible when Y/N looked down at the ground, “And you did it for me too. I felt like I finally had a mother again. That’s how I knew my mom had to have a hand in this. She knew you were hurting and you needed us just as much as we needed you,” Beau insisted, placing his other hand over Y/N’s too. “So if you love me, if you love my dad…how could you possibly think this is the best option Y/N? I don’t care what your family has told you. I don’t care what that voice in your head tells you because it’s wrong. We love you. And we both need you. So much.”

Instead of responding, Y/N moved forward to wrap Beau up in her arms feeling his tears soaking her shirt the longer than she held onto him, “I do love you Beau, very much. But I don’t know how your father would feel after I told him no to his proposal. I can only imagine how much pain I’ve put him through.”

“He’s head over heels in love with you,” Beau tipped his head back, allowing her to brush away his tears while she stared down at him. “The pain of not having you in his life is worse than you telling him no. I’m not trying to guilt you into doing what I want Y/N, I just need you to see how important you are. How important you are to my dad. How important you are to me.”

“I know baby,” she hushed him hating that he thought she may have even considered that. “I know you wouldn’t do that.”

“You do want to be with my dad, right?” Beau confirmed, drawing her to lean back and let out a shuddering breath. “Because you told him yes when he asked you to marry him the first time. I still think you want to marry him. I still think you love him and you want to be with him.”

“Of course I do, Beau,” she was truthful with her answer. Negan was everything she wanted and more. She just hadn’t felt like she was good enough for him. “I love your father more than I’ve ever loved anyone. I told you, the only place I’ve ever felt like I’ve belonged is with you and your dad.”

“Then come home with me. Tell him how you feel,” Beau suggested, shaking his head and squeezing her hands in his tighter. “I know that he will be accepting of everything because he loves you. I love you. Please?”

Right when she was about to answer, she heard the sound of a knock and Beau did his best to reach up to wipe at his face to get the tears away, “Beau?”

“There’s something else,” Beau announced motioning her to wait. A sudden rush of nervousness flooded his body and she couldn’t quite pinpoint what it was. “I really hope you don’t get mad at me for this. You see, dad was really distracted today. Even though he was doing his best, I was able to get away to my room for a while and I called someone. I got them to come pick me up and they are the person that brought me here. They couldn’t find a parking spot, so I just hopped out when we got here and left them to find a spot to park. I wanted to talk to you first. Alone.”

Tipping her head to the side, Y/N watched Beau moving away from her and heading for the door to pull it open. There was a sinking feeling in her gut when she saw Hershel moving toward the entrance of the kitchen. Beau closed the door and moved around Hershel to return to Y/N. Lowering her head, she didn’t know how to respond to her father being there.

Hershel looked between the both of them, sliding his hands into his pockets. It was obvious that both Beau and Y/N had been crying and he wasn’t sure what to say.

“I take it I missed something big?” Hershel concluded as Beau moved in beside Y/N. Grabbing a hold of Y/N’s hand, Hershel knew that Beau was incredibly protective of his middle daughter. With a nod, Beau stood his ground almost declaring in his body language that he was there to protect her. After a minute, Y/N lifted her head, her eyes locking with her father’s. It seemed like Hershel wanted to say something, but he stopped. Pointing over toward Beau, Hershel cleared his throat and sighed loudly. “This young man loves you a lot. I hope you know that.”

“I do,” she spoke softly, standing up from the chair that she was in. Wrapping her arm around Beau’s shoulders, she pulled him in closer to her and gave him a tight squeeze. “And I love him too.”

“Good,” Hershel uttered, giving a firm nod. “It’s good that the both of you have each other.”

They stood silent for a moment. Hershel was motionless, his eyes dropping to the ground when he shifted slightly before them. Taking in a long, shallow breath Hershel nodded toward the living room that he saw in the distance, “Do you think that we can sit and talk for a minute?”

“Sure,” she didn’t know how to respond to things when Hershel moved from her kitchen into her living room. Beau grabbed his letters from the table that he had pulled out so he could put them back into his wallet. Leading Y/N toward the living room, Beau looked up at Y/N with tears still in his eyes. “Just hear him out. If he upsets you, I’ll kick him out myself.”

“Okay,” she faintly smiled, brushing her fingers through Beau’s hair and moving over toward the couch with Beau. Taking a seat, she realized that Beau sat close to her making sure to show her that he was still going to be her support system no matter what. That was never anything she questioned. Beau was always there for her and that was never going to change.

“This is a really nice view,” Hershel spoke, heading over toward the large window that looked over the city. With a nervous nod, Y/N wondered what her father was really doing there anyways. “You did really good for yourself Y/N.”

“Thank you,” she whispered, still having a hard time looking at Hershel. The only reason she wasn’t losing it was because of Beau. Obviously, this was something that was meaningful to Beau, so she was going to hear her father out for that reason alone. “What are you doing here Hershel?”

“Well, I was at home. There was a big family meeting going down when this young man called me,” Hershel explained pointing over to Beau who looked to Y/N with his big eyes. “He asked me not to talk and to listen to him. So I listened for once in my life. I listened to everything he had to say. It was a long conversation with some back and forth. We hung up. I spent some time alone in the kitchen and it didn’t take long for me to think about what he said. I called him back, I drove out here to the city and I picked him up. We drove here together, he took off while I parked and that’s pretty much it.”

“Not to be rude,” she started, her head tipping from side to side, “that just explains the steps of how you got here. Not why you’re here Hershel.”

Hershel’s expression showed that he was surprised that she called him out on that point, but it was true. Sure, it was a good lead up, but there had to be more of a reason why he was there.  

“I owe you some explanations,” Hershel began, heading over toward the seat that was across from Beau and Y/N. In his body language, it showed that he was uncomfortable and it was strange to see from her father. Usually, Hershel didn’t care about anything, but to see him uneasy was not a sight that she was used to. “And I’m going to do my best giving them to you,” Hershel tried to gather himself, hooking his fingers together. “I think you know some of this, but it’s important to things. When I was younger, my father was very abusive. I hated him. He was an alcoholic and it ruined our family. The second I could get away, I did. My father was a cold man. Always mocked me for having a love for animals, but I didn’t care. When I was gone, I became a veterinarian because it’s what I wanted. And hell I did it just to spite him. Kind of like you with your art.”

“Yeah,” Y/N breathed out, she knew this information. It was something she had only heard somewhat about, but it was something more so directed at Maggie. Hershel always let Maggie know that the reason he stopped drinking was for her.

“You and I were a lot alike when we were younger,” Hershel informed her, giving a shrug knowing that she would probably hate hearing that. “Only when we were younger though. We both had our fathers that were unbearable and we desperately wanted to get away. Prove to them that we could be what we wanted without judgement.”

It hurt being compared to her father, but he wasn’t wrong. From what he talked about when it came to his father, their pasts did sound very similar. Especially with them wanting to do what they loved and escaping so they could.

“When my father was dying on his death bed, I came back to that farm. I saw what he became and I vowed to never be like him,” Hershel thought back on his past, his words coming out shaken because he was visibly trying to hold himself together. “I had become an alcoholic in that time away from him. It was the best way I could deal with all the pain I felt because of him growing up. Hell, it was kind of in my blood to become an alcoholic. The day I saw him on his deathbed is the day that I vowed to stop drinking because I never wanted to be like him. Especially after I found out about Maggie. I didn’t want to have my family growing up the way that I did.”

A tremoring breath fell from her lips when she dropped her head down. That sounded very familiar to her, but from her own point of view and it hurt hearing that come from Hershel’s own mouth considering everything that Hershel put her through.  

“I thought I had the perfect life. I was married to Josephine, we had Maggie and everything felt right in the world until she got sick. When she got sick, it was the hardest thing I had ever had to experience in my life,” Hershel recalled back on his life, his eyes lifting to Y/N’s to show that he was emotional. “I had this little girl that I had to take care of and I knew that her mother was dying. And when she did? It broke me.”

Even though these were things that they knew growing up in their family, they were never things they really touched on. Hershel wasn’t always open with his emotions. In fact, he was rather cold when it came to him opening up. When it came to loving Maggie and Beth, he was mostly warm to them, but never when it came to getting deep about feelings.  

“I never thought I would fall in love again. And because of that, I fell. I was so close to drinking again because I remembered what it was like when I was younger. I remembered how it helped to ease the pain that I had when I thought about my past with my father,” Hershel declared, holding his hands out as if drawing together his thoughts from the past. “It was a while after Josephine had passed. I wasn’t doing good. I was a single father. Maggie was sad. I was failing in all the areas that I should have been thriving with, but it was hard. It was really hard. So one night, I went to a bar. Maggie was in bed and I left her alone. I should have never done that, but your sister was a deep sleeper when she was younger. I knew I’d be fine until morning…”

Hershel took a moment to stop and catch himself. Lowering his hand, Hershel rubbed it against his knee and raised his gaze. Both Beau and Y/N were listening to him intently. Neither one broke from him and it was strange that both of them were actually giving him a chance to explain things after everything that they had been through.

“That night was the night I met your mother,” Hershel explained to Y/N seeing her posture change once he finally mentioned her mother to her. “I hadn’t been to a bar in a very long time. So everyone there was a stranger for me. I was deep in my sorrows and I had gone to the bar. I took a seat and almost immediately I had spotted your mother. People were drawn to her. She was standing by this jukebox. There was a light on her and like I said, she was hard to miss. With her smile and her energy. Even the way the room was lit, it was like it almost brought the attention directly to her. But of course she was surrounded by other people. People were always drawn to your mother.”

Noticing that Y/N seemed to tense up, Beau squeezed his fingers around hers and gave her a small nudge. This was everything that she wanted and more growing up, it was just hard hearing it for the first time.

“I was about to drink. The bartender put it right in front of me and when I was about to take my first sip, someone fell right on top of me,” Hershel chuckled, shaking his head while deep in recollection of his memories. “The drink spilled all over me and the person who fell on me was your mother. You see, your mother was wearing a new dress that day and she tripped over it. Even though it was her that fell, she ripped me a new one for spilling that drink all over the both of us. She was a spitfire.”

There was something that changed in Hershel’s features when he sighed loudly and reached up to rub at the back of his neck, “We bickered back and forth. But God, she was so beautiful just standing there lecturing me. I thought she was my guardian angel. A sign sent from God to show me that I wasn’t supposed to have that drink. I tried telling her that, but she didn’t want to listen to me. I guess she was on a date that was going horrible at the time and she just wanted to get the hell out of there. I followed her out of that bar like a lost puppy, just trying to get her to listen to me.”

“And she fell for it?” she wondered watching the smile tug at Hershel’s lips.

“Nope, she told me to screw off,” Hershel declared with another laugh, his face having a light shade of pink flooding into it. “Before she did that, I told her everything. I told her about my past, why I was there and how I thought she was my guardian angel. Of course doing that meant I told her about my alcoholism and she wanted nothing to do with me. Why would she? I had a lot of baggage in my life and someone like her didn’t need all of that. I thought I would never see her again after that night. Maybe she was just put there to stop me from having that drink. So I went home back to Maggie and made sure to make a promise to myself that I would never drink again. I even threw away the clothes so Maggie wouldn’t be able to smell that.”

There was a silence between them when Hershel looked down at the ground again, “At that time I was very careful with your sister. See, Maggie was like Beau. She lost her mother too. She was younger than Beau, but it did something to her. So I was always protective of her,” Hershel claimed, lifting his gaze to both Beau and Y/N. “After Josephine died, Maggie just wasn’t…right. I think we all know that your sister is, I don’t know the word. A bit reckless maybe?”

“Hershel,” Beau muttered his name trying to get him to focus on what he wanted him to talk about since it seemed like Hershel was getting distracted.

“I’m getting there son,” Hershel assured Beau with a frown, holding his hands up to motion him to wait. While they agreed that losing her mother was hard for Maggie and they understood him being protective of her, it was getting away from the point he was really there for. “I took your sister to a fair that was in town one night. While we were there, we ran into your mother again. She was there with her godson and she was so good to your sister. I was smitten with her almost immediately. I knew when I saw her interacting with Maggie that I had to have her, so I asked her out on a date. She reluctantly agreed, but she was cautious. I think the only reason she said yes to me was that she fell in love with Maggie and liked the way that I was with her.”

Maggie was young, so it was likely that she never remembered much about her mother, but God Y/N wished that she would have. It would have been nice hearing things about her mother from Maggie because it sounded like Maggie actually had gotten to experience love, real love from her mother. If even for a short time.

“We went on our first date and I proclaimed my love for her at the end of the night. I asked her to marry me almost immediately. It was there. That special thing that I had with Josephine. I felt it. I know she did too, but she knew about my past. I was honest with her from the start and no matter how many times I asked her to marry me, she wouldn’t,” Hershel continued on with his story, biting at his bottom lip when he paused to think things out. “But it didn’t stop us from being together. She fought it, but you can’t stop real love. Can you?”

A tiny smirk tugged at Y/N’s lips hearing him say that as he continued, “Eventually she got pregnant with you and she was scared. She had lost her parents a long time ago and she didn’t have a lot of family, but I promised I would take care of her. That I loved her and I would always take care of her,” Hershel’s eyes started to tear over and, in that moment, she could actually sense the pain in her father’s tone. “God she was so excited to have you. Always writing down names in books that she wanted if you were a boy or girl. And when she went into labor, she finally agreed to marrying me. I was so happy. I felt like the luckiest man alive. I was in love with someone perfect. She really was perfect. I had a beautiful daughter and a beautiful new baby girl. I couldn’t have been happier.”

This story was not the one that she was used to. It was completely different and hearing it for the first time had chills running down her spine. Goosebumps covered her arms and she didn’t know if she should say something or just keep listening.

“We brought you home and everything was perfect up until you were about nine months old,” Hershel’s voice got raspier, his body becoming stiffer when the worst part of his memories returned to him. “Your mother started feeling run down. She never sat still that woman. Always on the run, always helping other people. I just thought she wasn’t getting enough sleep. And then she went to the doctors…”

It was then she heard the hurt sound escape Hershel’s throat and he lowered his head down, “your mother was sick. With the same…exact…thing that kill Maggie’s mother. There was nothing that could be done. We couldn’t stop it from happening. How does that happen? Two women in a row getting sick from the same thing? It didn’t make sense. I wanted to believe that a miracle would happen because it wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair that I found love again and she was going…she was going to leave me. Just like Josephine.”

Leaning back on the couch, Y/N felt her throat tightening hearing what it was that finally did kill her mother in the end.

“This time it was fast. Not like Josephine. At least with Maggie, she got time to be with her mother. The sickness, it took your mother so fast. She was one of the strongest people I knew and she was always going, but it took her so fast. You were so young. The last thing she made me do was promise to take care of you,” Hershel thought back on Y/N’s mother showing that he was truly shaken up by the idea of losing her. “You don’t understand. I loved her, so much. I fell so hard. I thought I had found two soulmates in my life. And then the world took her away from me. I was broken. So broken,” Hershel tried to explain, pulling himself to the edge of the seat so he could look more directly at Y/N. “Even though I said I never would, I started drinking again.”

A sense of shock flooded her veins. Hershel always insisted that he stayed away from alcohol once he learned about Maggie, but to hear that he had lost his way in the time after her mother passed away had really shaken her up.

“I had two little girls at home waiting for me. The thought of her destroyed me. It broke me in two. I realized that the problem had to be me. I was poison. How could the two women that I fell in love with die of the same exact thing?” Hershel emphasized his words, tears sliding down his face when the two women he lost were remembered. And he wasn’t wrong. That was incredibly bad luck. “Then I started thinking, if I would have never approached your mother, maybe she would be still alive. Maybe she would still be here if she didn’t get with me.”

Beau’s arm hooked tighter around Y/N’s when he could see that she was getting more upset listening to her father talk about her mother. Looking to Beau, she felt her throat tensing up and Beau laid his head on her shoulder.

“I was drowning and no one was there to take care of my babies. I had a friend tell me it was time to wake up, so I had to do the one thing that would keep me alive for the two of you. And that was erase the memory of her. It was the only thing I thought I could do to help carry on. I tried setting everything on fire that reminded me of her, but I couldn’t do it. I loved her too much. Instead, I went up to the attic and I put those things there for years. Even if I wrote her off, she was still there in the back of my mind,” Hershel pointed toward Beau since he was the one that found the things that Y/N had approached Hershel about. It wasn’t the best excuse, but it made sense in how closed off from emotions her father was. Seeing her father crying was new for her. It was rare and it was a sight she never thought she would see. Especially when it came to her mother. “It was the only way to keep myself from falling again. I was so afraid of getting too close to someone because of how they always ended up sick. Annette I just got lucky with. When I was failing, she was there to pick up the pieces and take care of you girls. She’s put up with my shit for so long.”

Tears still lingered in her eyes when Hershel frowned, “I know I’ve not been a good father to you. You look so much like her Y/N. It hurts looking at you because I’m reminded all the time of the love that I lost. The woman that saved me…the woman that died because of me.”

“You didn’t make her sick,” Y/N interrupted her father knowing that if she died from the same thing that Josephine died from, there was nothing that he could have done to cause it. “That was just really bad, unfortunate luck, but it wasn’t your fault.”

“Isn’t it though? How does that happen?” Hershel looked to Y/N for an answer, her lips parting, but she had nothing more to say. Hell, if it was her in his position, she would have thought the same thing. That it was her fault. She just knew that she would have never taken it out on her child like Hershel did. “I thought I would lose you girls. I thought I would lose Annette. I know I’m poison. I’m no good. I wanted to so desperately be what my father wasn’t and I was so blind because my pain drew me to become just like him in many ways for you. I always knew you were going to leave me. You were so much like your mother. So independent. And it just made me cold. You looked like her, you acted like her and I just couldn’t handle it. That’s no excuse. I know it’s not, but I was so afraid that you were going to leave me that I broke myself off from you. It was wrong. I know that. I just did what I thought was the best way to keep myself from being my father and it’s not what I should have done. I should have let your mother live on through me and you. Instead, I erased her because I was scared. Scared that I would break down and leave you girls with nothing. So I made the wrong choice. It was very wrong, but you saw those photos.”

“I did,” she looked to the booklet that was sitting on the table in the distance and she agreed with him, she did look like her mother. Hershel was crying and Y/N was doing her best to be strong even though everything hurt to hear. “Thank you for telling me.”

“If there is such a thing as an afterlife, your mother is going to kick my ass when I finally meet my end,” Hershel proclaimed with a frown, reaching to wipe at his face. “I don’t expect you to ever forgive me Y/N. After this long, I should have been able to man up and be honest with you. I just convinced myself that if I allowed myself the time to grieve, I would become what I was so scared of being all over again. Just to make the pain stop. Because every time I think of your mother, I feel that pain…”

Hershel raised his hand up to place it over the center of his chest, his bottom lip quivering showing that he was emotional in the moment, “So I let you believe the lies I told. I even wanted to believe them myself so I didn’t have to face that pain again. It’s no excuse, but I am so very sorry. I know you won’t believe me, but I do love you. I just didn’t want what happened to your mother to happen to you. When we fought and you left…when you never came back, I just shut down that part of me like I did your mother. Instead of facing my feelings and taking on the pain, I was so cold to everything. I was just afraid of being hurt, so when the idea of pain reoccurred, I just tried to erase everything. And it was the wrong decision. I wish I could go back and change it, but I can’t. You were the last bit I had left of your mother and I lost you. This time it was completely my own fault.”

“Dad,” she breathed out watching when he stood up and moved before her. Hershel lowered down, reaching out to shakily cup her face in his hands. A loud exhale fell from her throat because she was not used to this kind of affection from the man knelt down before her.

“Your mother would be very proud of the person that you became. You’re none of the things that I’ve said. I’m just a mean old man that is angry that you left me and never looked back. I just never realized it was all my fault that it happened,” Hershel declared, his own words coming out shaken while he spoke to her. “I am so sorry. I know the mistake is mine and mine alone. I’m proud of who you are and what you have done. I should have been there every step of the way encouraging you and helping you instead of shutting down like I did.”

At this point, she was a mess when Hershel moved in to wrap his arms around her to hug her. It was the first time in her life she had ever heard him say something like that to her and she knew it was a big deal because of everything that happened, “I don’t want you gone from my life. I want you in my life because you are my daughter and I should have been showing you the love you deserved your whole life. I am so sorry that I didn’t.”

Forgiving him would be hard because of all the pain she went through her whole life, but this was a start. She just needed to know that he really meant it.

Pulling back, Hershel brushed her hair behind her ear and frowned, “Then this boy calls me and tells me that you turned his father down to a marriage proposal because you are torturing yourself over me,” Hershel recalled what had happened with Beau during their conversation, “If there is one thing I can tell you honey, it’s not to let that happen. I may not like Negan’s approach, but the things he said to me that day when he was upset with me in the attic, it’s exactly what I would want a man to say if he loved my daughter. That Negan loves you and if you learned anything from what I told you today, it’s that you can’t waste a minute if you truly love someone. Your mother was so scared about marrying me that we never did it and I regret every minute of it. I lost the woman I loved twice, don’t give up real love. Not when it’s there right in front of you.”

Looking to Beau, Y/N could see that his eyes were still damp from the crying that they had done and he was emotional with her being upset as well.

“What I’ve seen from both this boy and Negan is real love. You don’t always get that in life,” Hershel suggested with a shake of his head. “So please don’t make a mistake that will leave you broken hearted because of the words of this miserable old man that has done nothing but make mistakes his whole life. If you love that man, really love him, don’t let happiness slip through your fingers. Because if you mean what you said, that he’s the only person that makes you feel like you belong, then that’s the man that is for you. That’s who you are supposed to be with.”

A tense laugh fell from her throat. That took a lot out of Hershel. She was sure of that since Hershel and Negan had butted heads more than a few times. But with Hershel even telling her not to let that slip through her fingers, she knew that it was a big deal.

With a nod, Y/N looked between both Beau and Hershel before letting out a shuddering breath, “Are you willing to give us a ride?”

“Of course I am,” Hershel leaned forward to press a loving kiss against Y/N’s temple. Once he stepped back, both Beau and Y/N stood to their feet, but he motioned them to stop before they could get ready to leave. “Although, you’re going to have to wait a minute because I have no idea where I parked and I need to find the car first.”

“We’ll help you,” she responded, hooking her fingers with Beau so she could lead him toward the kitchen to grab her things.

As they were all about to head out, Y/N called out to Hershel and he stopped to look back at her. Heading over to him, she wrapped her arms around him to give him a hug. At first, he didn’t know how to respond, but after a moment he wrapped his arms around her. It was a firm hug, one that she had needed to have for a very long time from her father.

“Thank you for telling me what you did. If you really mean what you say, I’d like to spend more time with you and learn more about my mother,” she admitted with Hershel squeezing his arms around her tighter. "Because from what you say about her, I think she’d want me to forgive you and I’m willing to. As long as you put in the work too.”

“I will,” Hershel assured her, leaning back enough to stroke his fingers in over the side of her face. “I promise.”

----

Shifting uneasily on the couch, Negan looked to his watch to see the time. When Beau assured him that he would be coming home, Negan thought immediately. So the fact that it was taking this long for Beau to return was really making Negan panic. Beau had sent him multiple texts assuring Negan he was safe, but it was scaring the hell out of Negan. They had been watching Christmas movies when Beau had taken off and he still was with Erin. Well, Erin had fallen asleep in his lap while they stayed up waiting for Beau. There was no way that he would go to bed until his son was safely home.

Letting out a long sigh, Negan slid his hand into his pocket to pull out the jewelry box that was still there. Pushing it open with his thumb, Negan stared out at the ring and felt his chest aching at the sight of it. Earlier he thought he would have been spending his Christmas Eve with his children and Y/N. After she turned him down, it broke his heart, but he was doing his best to still show up for his children for Christmas since they were really what Christmas was about anyways.

Hearing the sound of the elevator ding, Negan turned his head back to look for Beau. When Beau didn’t walk into the room, he let out a small grunt. Adjusting Erin carefully, Negan moved his daughter so that she was sleeping comfortable on the couch. Cautiously getting up, Negan moved quietly to make sure that she stayed asleep before heading for the hallway that led to the elevator.

When he was met with an empty hallway, Negan’s head tipped to the side and he dropped his arms down at his side. The sound the elevator made was that it did when someone was returning to the level his apartment was on.

“Beau?” Negan called out to his son, worried when there was no response on the other side. Sighing loudly, Negan assumed that it was probably because Beau was moving slow, worried about his father getting upset with him. “You don’t have to hide Beau. I’m not mad at you, I’m just relieved that you are home. I promise. So why don’t you just come give me a hug and we can all go to bed. We can talk about whatever you did in the morning after we open gifts.”

A loud exhale fell from Negan’s throat when Y/N stepped out into the hallway and he felt his heart skip a beat, “Well shit. I was about to ask you not to go hard on him, but you have to go being the good father again. Don’t you?”

Speechless, Negan didn’t know what to say when she stepped forward in the hallway. Undoubtedly, the first thing he wanted to do was go up to her and wrap his arms around her, but after everything, he didn’t even know if that would be appropriate. “Beau was with you?”

“He was,” she answered with a frown, holding her hand out. Stepping forward, Beau accepted her hand and moved in beside her. There was a rosy color to Beau’s cheeks and he almost looked worried with how his father would respond to everything. “Beau showed up at my apartment and we had a good talk. Where he opened my eyes up to a lot of things. A lot of important things.”

“Oh yeah?” Negan’s eyebrow arched in curiosity when Beau rest his head in against her shoulder. Whatever their conversation was, it had no doubt an effect on the bond between his son and Y/N. “What kinds of things did you realize?”

“That I’m head over heels in love with you, him and Erin,” she explained stammering through her words, bringing Beau’s hand up to press a kiss over the back of his hand. Giving Beau a wink, she released his hand and stepped closer to Negan. The expression over Negan’s face was everything that she needed to see. Hearing that she still loved him drew him to let out a shuddering breath of relief. “Beau made me realize that it didn’t matter what someone said to me or what that voice inside my head tells me because it’s wrong.”

“He’s right,” Negan responded with a weak smile. “You are so much better than you really give yourself credit for.”

“And it’s because of the two of you that I see it,” she was close enough to Negan to draw him to let out a tremoring exhale. “Beau also made me realize that there was something in this world that brought us together. We were meant to find one another and be together.”

“Yeah?” Negan’s voice was broken, his Adam’s apple bouncing in his throat when he felt his eyes burning over.

“Yeah,” she answered, stepping before Negan who was frozen where he was standing. Lowering his head, Negan saw the back of her hand pressing in against his and he bit down on his bottom lip. “I’m so sorry I did what I did with running away. Your son is right about me. I got scared. I’ve never felt happiness like I do when I’m with you and your children. I was afraid that I would lose you or make life worse for you so I pushed you away. But you are the first person in this world that makes me feel like I’m not alone Negan. Like I’m actually special and I don’t want to lose that.”

Holding her hand out, she saw Negan look down at it, his lips parting and his bottom lip tremoring, “I want to be with you and your family Negan. I love you. I love everything about you. I love your smile. I love your personality, even when you are pissing people off. I love how good of a father you are. I love how much you love me. I just love you…”

“I love you too,” Negan whispered, accepting her hand, squeezing it firmly in his. Sweeping his thumb over the back of her hand, he could see that his son was watching on with awe in his eyes.

“You’re not wrong Negan, being separated from you hurts and I don’t think I would survive without you,” she repeated some of the things he had said to her in the past drawing a tiny smile from him. Lowering down onto one knee had a confused expression flooding in over Negan’s features. Digging into her pocket, she pulled out the ring pop that Negan had given her that night on the trail. A muted laugh fell from his throat when he saw it. “I’ve wasted enough of my life on things Negan. I need you. I love you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. The love from both you and your son saved me when I didn’t even realize that I needed saving. I’ve never felt more alive than I do when I’m with all of you. So would you do me the honors of being my husband? Will you marry me Negan?”

“What do you think?” Negan scoffed, watching her smile when he nodded his head about. “Yes. Fucking of course I will.”

Sliding the ring pop up his finger as best as she could, they both laughed when it got stuck about a third of the way up. Pulling her up to him, Negan wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her in against his chest. Bringing their lips together, Negan drew out the kiss and hummed against her lips before they separated.

“You stole my move,” Negan lifted his hand to stare out at the ring pop that she had proposed to him with.  

“It was a good one,” she responded, nuzzling her nose in against his. Slipping his hand down, Negan managed to grab the jewelry box from his pocket. Opening it up, he grabbed the engagement ring he had bought for her and raised her left hand up. Sliding it down her finger, Negan stared down at it for a minute before lowering his head to press a kiss over the back of her hand. “I’m sorry for saying no earlier. I just wasn’t thinking with a clear mind. But now I know. I love you so much and I can’t be without you.”

Instead of responding, Negan brought her into another loving hug that had him nuzzling his nose in against the side of her neck, “you don’t have to apologize to me Y/N. I love you and I was going to wait for you as long as I had to because I knew that we were meant to be together. I love you so fucking much and I would have never given up.”

“I know,” she pulled back enough to stroke over the side of his face in a tender sweep. “Are you going to be okay with the fact that I’m the one that asked you to marry me?”

“Well, technically I asked first, well, twice, but…” Negan teased with a wrinkle of his nose, stealing another quick kiss from her. “I’m okay with telling people that you were the one to propose. Whatever makes you the happiest, makes me the happiest.”

The sound of something knocking over was heard and it drew Negan to lift his head to see Beau standing at the edge of the kitchen. Giving a half wave, Beau smiled uneasily before shifting on his feet.   

“So I owe this to my son?” Negan wondered, squeezing his arms tighter around Y/N who eagerly accepted the gesture.

“You do,” she acknowledged that this was all because of Beau that she was here right now.

“Come here,” Negan ordered, wiggling his finger out at Beau who gave a big smile. Nodding, Beau moved forward swiftly, eager to accept the group hug from the both of them. “Thank you, buddy. I don’t know how I got so lucky to have you.”  

“He always knows what to say,” Y/N informed Negan with a weak smile, pulling back enough so that she could press her hand in over the side of Beau’s face. “I’ve never met someone with a bigger heart than Beau.”

“My beautiful, sweet boy,” Negan brushed his fingers through Beau’s hair noticing that Beau’s eyes were tearing over. “I love you. So much.”

“I love you too,” Beau whispered dropping his head down to cuddle it in over Negan’s shoulder. “I just want all of us to be happy. And I knew that the only way for all of us to be happy…was to be together.”

Taking that moment to cherish the two in his arms, Negan closed his eyes and squeezed them close. Even though this didn’t turn out exactly the way that he thought it would, this was the best outcome that he could have wished for after everything that occurred. They were together and that’s what counted most.  

“How in the world did you get all the way out to her house?” Negan blurt out, pulling back and interrogating his son, surprised that Beau was able to pull off what he did. “I know you hate the subway and you wouldn’t get into a cab…”  

Someone cleared their throat making Negan lift his head to see that Hershel was in his hallway with his hands behind his back alerting Negan that it was him that Beau was with, “Well shit. You don’t have a shotgun with you. Do you?”

“Oh, no,” Hershel pulled his hands forward to show that they were empty. “And no more shotguns. Unless you plan to break her heart. Then, I might have to reconsider on the shotguns. I am sorry for that.”

“I don’t plan on breaking her heart,” Negan snickered, leaning down to nuzzle his nose in against the side of Y/N’s neck. “So I think we’re going to be good Hersh.”

“I may have called him and talked to him while Erin had you distracted. I convinced him to come down here to talk to Y/N so she could finally know about her mother,” Beau educated his father on what happened and what he missed. Surprised, Negan looked to Y/N who simply gave him a nod. “They are willing to work on things together.”

“Really?” Negan was surprised to hear that considering everything that happened.

“Really,” she informed Negan with a loud swallow. “We will talk about things tonight.”

“Are we all better now?” Erin’s tired voice was heard and they looked to see that she was standing in the doorway of the kitchen staring out at them with her big, tired, green eyes. Her polar bear stuffed animal was under her arm and she looked like she was ready to pass out. Waving Erin forward, Negan picked her up in his free arm pulling her in close so they could all be together.  

“Much better,” Negan peppered kisses against the side of Erin’s face.  

“Well, then…what are we still doing up?” Erin asked, pointing back toward the Christmas tree. “If we don’t go to sleep Santa won’t come. You know that.”

“You know what? She’s right,” Negan agreed with Erin, looking beyond them to Hershel. “I have a guest room Hersh. What do you say? You can stay with us until morning and then you can leave in the morning after Santa has come. I think with all the snow it would be a good idea for you to stay here for the night.”

“Are you sure?” Hershel confirmed and Negan gave him a slow nod.

“We’ll set you up in a minute,” Negan assured him, lowering in to press his forehead against Y/N’s. Having both of his children and Y/N in his arms was everything to him. Especially now after everything they had been through. “This is the best Christmas gift I could have ever asked for. With you, Erin and Beau. I couldn’t picture anything better than being with the things I love the most in this world.”

“I’m sorry the present came a little late,” Y/N hummed against his lips, stealing another quick kiss from them.

“Better late than never,” he whispered with a smile, nuzzling his nose in against hers. “I have a whole life to look forward to with you and I don’t plan on wasting a single second of it.”  

----

ONE YEAR LATER

“Is dinner almost ready babe?” Y/N called out from where she was before the Christmas tree with Beau and Erin putting the presents under the tree. Looking to her watch, she stole another quick glance at the time before sighing. “I think Maggie said she would be here with Glenn and little Hershel in less than a half hour. My parents and the others will be a little bit later.”

“Almost,” Negan called out from the kitchen getting her attention back on him to see that he was standing in the doorway with their three-month-old son in his arms. “Felix and I are doing our best to get everything done, but daddy needed to take a break to feed him because he got hungry.”

“Aren’t we all?” Erin questioned with a small laugh, gazing upon the presents that were before her. “I’m glad everyone is coming here this year just for dinner. Last year was nice, but home is so much more comfortable than being at the farm all that time.”  

“You’re not wrong and we’re lucky they are going home after dinner,” Beau piped in with a tiny snicker getting up from the floor. Heading over toward Negan, Beau grabbed Felix and held him closely to his chest. “Unlike last year where we had to spend days with everyone, at the end of tonight we get to kick all of them out of our apartment.”

“What are you trying to say?” Y/N smirked drawing Beau’s eyebrows to bounce up before he chuckled and started humming something to his little brother who was cooing out.  

“I’m saying I think we’re all going to be happier when it’s just us at the end of the night together on Christmas,” Beau answered as he made a silly face down at Felix who was staring up at him behind heavy eyelids. “I know you are getting close to your family again, but it’s still nice to have them leave. We have Christmas Eve with your family, they leave and then Christmas is for us. I think that will be nice. Don’t you?”

“I think Christmas alone with all of us will be wonderful,” she agreed with Beau, letting out an amused sound before pressing a kiss to his temple.

“He’s not wrong you know, it’s nice getting people to leave at the end of the day,” Negan commented when they all headed into the kitchen. Negan helped Erin into her seat where she stole one of the sugar cookies that they all had made together earlier. “I like when it’s just all of us together.”

“That’s my favorite too,” Y/N hummed, stepping forward to draw her finger down over the center of Negan’s chest. Tipping up on her toes, she brought their lips together which had Beau letting out an overwhelmed sound.

“We’ll be quick,” Negan promised his son with a wrinkle of his nose, hooking his arms loosely around Y/N’s hips. “It’s interesting how I predicted our future almost a year ago. Married with a young baby…”

“Anyone could have predicted the baby with how the two of you are,” Beau reminded them moving forward to hand Felix to Negan again carefully. Once he had Felix in his arms again, Negan headed over toward where Erin was sitting so that she could see her little brother. “I have to get the food out of the oven.”

“Hey,” Y/N called out motioning both Erin and Beau in so they could all do a group hug. “I love you all so much. I hope you know that.”

“And we love you too,” Negan hummed, pressing a lingering kiss over her cheek, enjoying the way that their little family still continued to love one another. “And we always will.”

----

Tags: @slutlanna976 @fuckthis-and-fuckthat @jennydehavilland @de-gabyconamor @ibelongtonegan @smallsadjellyfish @labyrinthofheartagrams  @msjamesmarch @thebeautysurrounds @hotfornegan @redmercysugar @caprithebunny @tuttifuckinfruitty @emoryhemsworth @a-girl-interupted @akumune @stoneyggirl2 @xsarcasticwriterx @haleygreen23 @xhannahbananax03 @sanctuaryforthelost @burningredaffair @killaweiser @dead-of-niight @ayumi-wolf @hollyismentallyillhelp @promiscuousbarnes​ @tone-stark @lanadelnegan @flippittygibbitts @stickyhuesos @dilfsandmartinis

#Jeffrey Dean Morgan #Negan #The Walking Dead #negan fanfiction #negan x reader #twd fanfiction #negan x you #negan smith

[fortheloveofwonderland]

Darkness Declares Glory | Chapter 23 FINAL | S.R

Previous Chapter

A/N - final chapter! This one skips forward a couple of months.

Chapter Summary - Spencer’s friends join him celebrating a milestone in his sobriety and Luke has a special surprise in store for him to commemorate the occasion.

Pairing - Spencer Reid / Fem! Reader

Category - dark angst | smut | eventual happy ending.

Warnings - rehab, swearing, making out, lots of fluff. WC - 3k

Chapter 23 - Long Promised Road

Crescent Oak Rehabilitation Facility was more or less exactly what Spencer imagined a rehab centre to be like. It was almost eerily calming, his first few weeks here he’d almost been on edge by just how serene it was. 

There was always some kind of soft music playing from speakers he often couldn’t even see. Meditation was highly encouraged, as were walks in the zen garden. Patients were required to wear all white linens and white canvas shoes. The only good thing was that he was here voluntarily, so if he wanted to leave he could. And a few times he almost did. 

At first Spencer couldn’t help but wonder what the fuck he’d done. He felt more as though he’d joined a cult than checked into a rehab facility. For at least a week, maybe longer he considered leaving every single day. But he just kept telling himself, give it one more day, it will get better. Just one more day.

Around the middle of his second week Spencer found he woke up one day and didn’t hate it here. He didn’t begrudge getting in his white linens, he hummed along to the soft music playing through mysterious speakers and he actively joined in a meditation session. And ever since then he’d felt oddly at peace at Crescent Oaks. 

He met with a therapist once a day, one on one, no group sessions thank god. He ate his three meals, he showered every day without fuss. He partook in arts and crafts, read in the library and went on nature walks. And not only did he tolerate it, he actually liked it. 

Thankfully he’d gotten over the hardest part of his recovery in comas and catatonic states. He still had the occasional withdrawal and of course there were still days when he wanted to use. But they were few and far between these days. 

He’d initially checked himself in for three months - he wanted to reach his six month milestone before he even considered going it alone. After those three months he had the option to stay for as long as he thought he needed. It was comforting to know he wouldn’t be on his own. 

His old team visited every chance they could. Crescent Oaks allowed visitors every day between the hours of six pm and nine pm and he had a visitor at least four times a week if not more. Usually it was Garcia when the team were on cases and they would take walks together and chat aimlessly amongst themselves. 

His wounds were slowly starting to heal, both the mental and physical ones. Of course his scars remained and always would but Spencer now looked at them like they were badges of honour, proof he survived the worst life had to throw at him. He was proud to wear them for the world to see. 

Luke continued to see Y/N. He hadn’t told Spencer at first but Spencer could just tell. And once he got over his initial jealousy he had actually been pleased that you had someone like Luke in your life. 

He didn’t let himself ask about you, despite the fact he was always thinking about you. Sometimes Luke would say, “I saw Y/N yesterday,” and Spencer would nod and smile and change the subject. 

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to talk about you, because he did. But talking about you often left Spencer feeling miserable with how much he missed you and right now he only had the brain capacity to focus on one area of his life. And that had to be his recovery this time. 

He still wore your bracelet. Maybe one day he’d take it off, but for now he found comfort in it. It made him feel connected to you in the way he hoped having his one year sober chip felt for you. It was some kind of reminder that the two of you were still entwined, bound to each other in ways even he didn’t truly understand. 

When Luke had told him a few weeks after he checked into Crescent Oaks that you’d been to visit him while he was catatonic, he’d been at a complete loss for words. He must have disassociated by the point as he had absolutely no recollection of you being there. 

He hated that he couldn’t remember something so important but maybe it had been a blessing in disguise. If he’d been conscious of you being there while he was trapped inside the shell of his body that wouldn’t move to his command, he would have hated Luke for bringing you there. 

But knowing you had been there was comforting in a way, it meant you still cared. Maybe one day he’d get the chance to thank you.

***

Spencer was mildly overwhelmed at all the eyes that were on him, shrinking in on himself a little and wrapping his arms around himself. He’d never liked to be the centre of attention, but there was no getting out of this. He’d asked his therapist if they could just make it a lowkey affair but she simply smiled and shook her head.

“Trust me, Spencer, in the months or years to come, you will be glad you marked this milestone with all your closest friends.” 

He rolled his bottom lip between his teeth, averting his gaze to the floor as his therapist stood and addressed the room. 

“Thank you all for being here, this is a big day in Spencer’s recovery and having all his friends here means the world to him. Even if it doesn’t seem like it.” Jessica laughed slightly as did the others in the room. All except for Spencer. “He’s told me all about his long struggle with drug abuse and his mental health and I for one am so proud of him for getting here. The first six months are the hardest on the road to recovery and so I am overjoyed to be able to present him with his six month chip.”

Jessica cleared her throat when she finished speaking and Spencer tentatively glanced up at her, still chewing frantically on his lip. She was holding out his new golden chip, motioning for him to stand and join her. He swallowed thickly, pushing himself up to his feet and shuffling over to her.

“Uh, thanks.” His cheeks burned as he took the chip from her hand and rolled it between his fingers.

“Speech!” Luke hollered with a chuckle. 

“Come on kid, we didn’t come all the way out here for nothing.” Rossi goaded him. 

“After all we’ve done for you, it's the least you can do.” Tara teased. 

Spencer finally looked up, glancing at the seven faces in the room. The seven people he loved most in the world who had gone to the ends of the earth to help him on every step of his recovery. These seven people were the reason he was still standing, the reason he was able to stand here today and proclaim that he was six months sober.

“I hate being the centre of attention. And I hate public speaking.” he scuffed the toe of his converse on the worn carpet. “But I guess I do owe you, honestly I don’t think I will ever be able to put into words just how much. Without each of you, I know for a fact I wouldn’t be here, I would most likely be dead. I know I’ve been difficult to be around, I know I’ve given you all a hard time but for some reason you’ve stuck by me and I am so grateful for that, you have no idea. 

I don’t know how exactly I got so lucky as to have you all in my life. And I certainly don’t tell you all enough just how much I love and appreciate you all. To be able to stand here and say I am officially six months sober, I wouldn’t have made it here without each and every one of you. Emily, Luke, the two of you probably got the brunt of my frustrations and anger and I am really very sorry for that. But between the two of you, uh, you…” He got choked up and swallowed, closing his eyes as he finished the sentence. “The two of you saved my life. And I don’t even know how to begin thanking you for that.”

When he opened his eyes his tears overflowed and he noticed several of his old team had also gotten teary eyed. JJ and Garcia were holding hands, both crying as they looked at him. Luke’s eyes were glossy with unshed and Emily turned her head to wipe her eyes. 

“I, uh, I guess that’s it.” Spencer sniffed, running his thumb over the chip’s engraving. “I still don’t know what normal feels like but I, uh, feel decent.” 

The seven of them, plus Jessica, started clapping loudly, cheering and Matt even whistled. Spencer smiled, wiping his eyes with his free hand while his cheeks flushed pink. One by one they came over and hugged him tightly, congratulating him on this huge achievement. 

“What are your plans, Reid?” Matt was the one to ask the million dollar question while they all crowded around him. 

“I think I’m gonna stay here, just a little longer. I don’t think I’d relapse if I left now but I just wanna be sure.” He pocketed the chip but kept his hand wrapped around it. 

“I think that’s both smart and brave of you to admit.” Tara smiled at him.

“We are so, so proud of you Spence.” JJ still had tears in her eyes. 

“Yeah, yeah alright.” He rolled his eyes with a soft chuckle. “Can we turn the attention on someone else now?” 

The seven members of his old team looked between each other, slightly guilty looks on their faces that weren’t lost on Spencer. He frowned, looking between them in turn while he tried to figure out what was going on.

“What’s happening?” He asked no one in particular. “I’ve missed something.”

“I mean now you’ve mentioned turning the attention onto someone else, we do kinda have a surprise visitor for you.” Luke spoke, giving him a sheepish smile. 

But Spencer could tell exactly what he wasn’t saying. His brain was so much clearer these days, it was almost working back at its full capacity and he knew what, or rather who Luke was referring to.

“No.” Spencer shook his head, his stomach coiling into knots and more tears flooded his vision. “No way.”

Penelope smiled brightly, tottering over to the door on her too high heels and slowly gripping the handle. Spencer stared at the closed door, tears rolling silently down his cheeks and he inadvertently held his breath. 

Garcia leisurely opened the door, clearing trying to build the suspense, which admittedly worked. Spencer’s heart hammered rapantly against his chest, causing him to feel a little nauseous. His hands were shaking, he worried his knees might buckle beneath him.

When the door was finally all the way open, you stepped into view, teeth digging heavily into your bottom lip and your hands stuffed deep inside of your pockets. As soon as you locked eyes on him, your own tears overflowed but you found yourself frozen to the spot.

When Luke had told you over coffee one afternoon that Spencer was due to celebrate his six months sober and invited you to come, initially you’d quickly declined and shut the conversation down. You were doing well in the outside world, still living at the halfway house and enjoying your job at the diner. 

You were keeping yourself afloat but the idea of seeing Spencer again was too much for you to even contemplate. Not now. Maybe not ever. You were eleven months sober, you couldn’t risk any bump in that road.

You still weren’t sure, as you stood here now, what changed your mind. Luke hadn’t pressured you to come, he’d never mentioned it again after the first time. But the overwhelming need to see him with your own eyes, to confirm he was in fact alive and ok had driven you to be here today. It had only been yesterday when Luke popped by the diner for dinner that you’d told him you would come. 

And now as you stared at Spencer from the doorway, you knew you’d made the right call. Seeing him looking healthy and happy filled you with pride and the last thing you wanted to do was ruin your sobriety. You wanted to be sober alongside him. 

“Y/N.” He croaked out your name, wobbling a little on his feet. 

“Hi Spence.” Your voice cracked. 

“We’ll give you two a minute.” Emily spoke on behalf of her team and the seven of them, and Jessica, left the room as you took a few steps inside. 

The door was closed behind you as you cautiously approached Spencer. He didn’t move, seemingly frozen to the spot. You noticed the frayed end of your purple and gold bracelet poking out the sleeve of his sweater and it filled you with joy to know he still wore it.

“I, uh, I hope you don’t mind me coming. Luke invited me and at first I didn’t think it would be a good idea but…” you trailed off, sniffing back your tears. “But I really wanted to see you.”

“Are you really here?” Spencer choked. “I’m not imagining things?”

You smiled at him, cautiously stepping closer to him. You were steady in your movements as you reached out and took hold of his hand. You brought his hand to your lips and pressed them against his knuckles softly. The action caused Spencer to whimper slightly, even more tears now falling from his eyes.

“Do you believe me? I’m really here, Spence.” You were still holding his hand and he used it to pull you closer to him. 

Your chests crashed together, and he used his free hand to wrap around your waist, his large hand taking purchase on your lower back while he kept hold of your hand in his other. You looked up at him and he was smiling down on you. You could feel his heart beating against you and you were sure he could feel yours. He bowed his head closer to you, resting your foreheads together. 

“I might need a little more convincing.” His lip tugged into a smirk and before you knew what you were doing, you were crushing your lips together.

Spencer hummed into your mouth, holding you firmly in place while parting your lips with his tongue. The kiss was like nothing the two of you had ever shared before. It was a new beginning, a fresh start. It was hope and it was home all in one. 

It didn’t last particularly long, but the passion between the two of you was clear. When he pulled back he kept his arm around you, but let go of your hand in lieu of cupping your cheek.

“I think…I think I’m bound to you.” You whispered shakily. “I probably have been since the moment we met. I think I meant what I said before about us, at least at the time I did. But I can’t imagine my life without you in it, Spence.” 

“You don’t have to.” He stroked your cheek with his fingertips. “I think we were meant to find each other, Y/N. I think in some kind of fucked up way, the two of us are perfect for each other. On paper, two addicts shouldn’t work together, but I think we can be the exception to that. I don’t believe we will pull each other down, I think we’ll only raise the other up. Our sobriety is so important to both of us, I truly believe we can aid each other through recovery.”

“I think so too.” You nodded. “Spence, I love you.” 

He felt his heart swell to double the size and he held you tighter, almost impossibly closer to him.

“I feel like I’ve loved you my whole life.” He confessed, brushing his lips over yours. 

“I may not have loved you for my whole life, but I know for a fact that I will love you for the rest of my life.” You breathed him in, knowing that you only had a limited amount of time together for now. 

“The minute I get out of here I am taking you to dinner. The most incredible dinner you’ve ever had in your life.” He smiled at you, chuckling lightly.

“I will hold you to that.” You laughed too. 

He kissed you again, somehow more passionate than the last which seemed impossible but yet here you were. You wrapped your arms around his neck, fingers grazing the hair at the base of his neck. He moaned softly into your mouth at the sensation but tried to keep himself from getting too riled up. There would be plenty of time for that once he left Crescent Oaks. For now he had to keep it PG13.

When the kiss broke he looked you deep in the eyes, right through to your soul. It caused your knees to buckle a little and Spencer smiled, helping you remain upright. His other hand joined his first on your face, cupping it lightly and wiping at your tears with his thumbs. 

“For so long all I’ve seen is darkness,” he whispered, staring deep into your eyes. “But you, angel, you are and always have been my guiding light.”

With that he kissed you once more, all his love and adoration for you communicated without the use of words. You’d gotten used to your life being shrouded in darkness, almost grown accustomed to it in a weird way. 

But Spencer had shined a light on you that was so bright it had banished all of your demons to the shadows. It wasn’t to say they would never rear their ugly heads, but as long as Spencer was by your side fighting them with you, it didn’t seem so daunting anymore. 

“The darkness declares the glory of light.” - T.S Eliot

@tiredmilky @thatsonezesty13 @1mechanicalalligator @elle-28 @academiareid

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem! reader #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction

[ipegchangbin]

changbin pegger i invite you to walk with me, come on take my hand, here’s a suspiciously perfect peach for you my love.

i’ve been having dreams and visions and hallucinations, a single face plaguing my every waking thought, a certain curly haired fiend (no no, not our usual small chunky furry friend) today i command a “bang chan” as they (kids these days) call him. in my dreams i am sitting at a bar all dark and cool and tall and beautiful and mysterious, as i am, and this enchanting little minx is just sitting there, all cute and pretty and fuckable, as he is, and i want him and he wants me but he’s shy u know :( the poor guy, he steals his glances and i just full on ogle, send a smirk his way here and there, but oh no he’s turning away now and he’s not smiling back, maybe i read him wrong maybe he- or not because he’s suddenly making his way over, conjuring up some confidence, okay my turn! i entertain him a little, we talk, i buy him a drink (it’s just coke, he says he doesn’t drink, he’s just here with friends, it’s okay i can work with that) maybe, maybe just maybe he’s staring at my lips too much by the time our drinks are gone and we’re all close and personal, and mayyybe we kiss and everything is beautiful, the sun sets as a double rainbow paints the sky and i can hear the laughter of a thousand pink dolphins

and then i take him to my penthouse (the club bathroom) AND I FREAK IT, I FREAK IT SO GOOD SO NICE SO SWEET, as i do, we both came so much all over his stomach and i have to set him on the counter to catch his breath and then i clean him up and leave first, and he never stops thinking about me, i intentionally did not give him my number, whatever i said about being dark and mysterious (and did i mention tall and beautiful?) and no dick will ever compare to mine

and then i wake up changbin pegger unfortunately 😣😣😣😣

side note: i realized writing this it’s probably my first time sending an ask in my years of tumblr history, i’ve never had anything to say but u enchant me changbin pegger they should make u president of the world

beloved fruitcakebin you have truly blessed me with your experience in the dreamworld and i cannot get enough of this (and thank you for the beautiful peach it mustve taken you far too many laps around your grandfathers land to find the perfect one)

🏷️ sub!bang chan, dom!gn!reader, public bathroom tipsy sex

i love the idea of discovering and befriending a meek channie while in a social event…there’s something so charming about a guy who doesn’t even want to drink alcoholics to let loose.

maybe you’re the vice he’s looking for.

so as you make your advances, inch closer and get the boy’s awkwardness riled up to a ten, he looks cuter when he’s flushed and flustered. as pink as the peach you offered to me — peach soda in his hands — and he’s drowning in both the fizzy sip and your sparkling gaze.

you’re eating him up with your eyes alone.

or maybe your lips, because before you both know it, the self-introductions turn into spontaneous kisses.

neither of you know how it happened, maybe it was the intimate distance and semi-privacy in a sea of drunk people, but

you invite him over to the restroom with you because “you need someone to guide you” or something of the sort: it doesn’t matter, he follows you anyway. you expect him to.

he’s a mindless dog at this point, only loyal to a person he just met.

he follows you into the stall without thinking at all and you’re grateful that nobody seems to notice, because his eyes are only set on you even if he’s sober yet drunk on your love.

realizing he’s right there in the stall with you, you say “fuck it” out loud and it gets his cock harder than it already was. you can tell how hot and heavy it is, straining against his pants as you pull the fabric down while crashing your lips against his plump ones again.

chan tastes the alcohol on your mouth but also the sweetness of lust and it spurs him on. he moans without a care in the world and he’s accidentally loud. when you break away from the kiss, he hungers for more, leaning in with a desperation that you have to chuckle at. you’ve never met one like him.

“y/n,” he mutters and you’re surprised he still remembers your name, “may i touch you?”

you smirk. “hmm, i wanted to touch you first.”

you cup his balls through his underwear and he whimpers like a hurt puppy, but there’s a need and satisfaction in his system that he can’t explain. it feels too good to be wrong but he lets your hand play with him, running your fingers up the shaft before squeezing his thick cock even if it’s so big and dumb that it barely fits your hand.

you jerk him while kissing him — more like biting his lips and leaving hickeys on surrounding sensitive skin — and he’s undressing you hurriedly, cupping your chest and reaching for your bottoms only to realize that he’s about to get fucked with the aggression escalating from your end.

you rub your crotch on his exposed cock and ride his lower body against the wall, grabbing him by the neck and calling him pathetic things.

“such a good boy. can’t believe you were so shy. do you want to be a slut or do you want to be my favorite toy?”

chan’s head spins and he can’t keep up, your hand digs into his neck while the other tugs on his hair as you keep going and going. your hips roll so well on his, his pelvis starts to shake from the sheer pleasure, your words and raspy post-tipsy voice takes him to heaven, you ride his shirt up to expose his toned stomach, and—

“y/n! fuck!”

he cums, screaming almost, shooting his own load all over himself while you spray your essence on his cock.

you lick up the hand marks on his neck, down to his heaving chest (and nipples), and lick his own cum off his abs. he’s so particularly savory with a sweet aftertaste that it might just addicting.

chan’s a shaking mess and he backs into the wall of the stall while you clean up his still-leaking cock with your tongue.

but it feels so good.

you don’t give him your number. you don’t do anything. you merely kiss him goodbye and all he has of you is your cum on his body, your alluring face ingrained in his mind, along with a dark and mysterious name that haunts him for what seems to be forever.

a week later, your stroll downtown makes you meet face-to-face with chan again, and he looks like a puppy that found its way back home.

“hi, y/n!” he smiles, as if he hadn’t just had a wet dream about you the night prior to your fated meeting.

thank you beloved fruitcakebin, ill think about this ask forever, you should start writing this (while i write dj!chan)

#skz smut #sub!skz #sub!bang chan #sub!chan #bang chan smut #chan smut #💬 z is writimg #💌 ipeginbox #<3 fruitcakebin

[radiant-reid]

Closing Time

following from the ending scene from the episode with the same title

Summary: Spencer hasn't ever thought about how to tell you he likes you until he has a little too much to drink on Valentine's Day

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader (mostly fluff)

Content Warning: drinking

Word Count: 1.2k

There's a little bit of disappointment amongst the singles when the team gets home on the night of Valentine's Day. It would be easier to not think about being single while working a serial murder case.

But now, it's glaring them in the face.

"Alright, Hotch isn't coming," Morgan announces, walking down the steps from their boss's office.

Y/n, Spencer, Rossi, and Emily share a look at Hotch's indirect confession that he's seeing someone. It's going to be important information to tell Penelope and JJ.

"Let's go then," Rossi says, ushering them out. "I'm buying."

Keep reading

No one's going to complain about that, all of them following him eagerly.

They go to their usual bar, getting set up at a table before Rossi gets a round of shots. Everyone holds up their own, and Morgan gives the toast. "To being single."

They echo it before pouring the liquor down their throats. It's the first drink of many. Rossi wasn't kidding about buying and has no problem plastering his surrogate children with alcohol.

"Hey, have you ever seen Spencer drink this much?" Y/n asks in the bathroom with Emily, watching her friend reapply her lipstick in the mirror.

"Worried about your boyfriend?" She jokes, not going to miss the rare occasion Y/n mentions Spencer now that she knows she'll get teased for her crush.

Y/n shakes her head, trying to contain her worry. "Just thought he was kind of a lightweight."

That time Emily takes it seriously, agreeing with her friend. "I guess, yeah. He does seem like he's had a lot."

Y/n has to shrug it off to avoid speculation about her tiny, major crush, but she’s thinking about him and where they left the guys, sitting in their booth.

Rossi went to the bar when the girls left to the bathroom, attracted to some girl a couple of decades younger than him, leaving just Morgan and Spencer.

Spencer keeps his feelings tightly guarded. It’s something Morgan’s known to be true for the decade they’ve worked together. It took Spencer years to share something as personal as his nightmares. As far as Morgan’s concerned, Spencer Reid doesn’t share his emotions.

So he's confused when Spencer starts spilling. "She's just so pretty." He launches into a ramble he would find embarrassing if he were sober. "And funny, and she's nice to me, like she always makes me want to be myself, not someone else, you know? I just want to be with her all the time. When I walk into a room, I always look for her, and if she's there, I can't help but smile."

Morgan has to resist the urge to video it, maybe for proof but also to embarrass him with later, hopefully at their wedding. "Y/n?" He checks.

Spencer frowns. "Duh. There's no one else I could even think to be with but her." He tells him. "Don't you feel like that- No! Wait, don't answer that."

"I don't feel like that about her," Morgan assures him, patting him on the back reassuringly. "You know that feeling is love, though, right?"

His eyes widen at the realization Morgan's created, face going blank white. "No. No, I can't love her." He quickly says. That would be bad. When he loves people, they leave.

Morgan scoffs out a laugh, shaking his head. "I think you're in too deep now." He jokes, probably enjoying his friend's dismay more than he should. He's never seen Spencer as freaked out as this before. "And on Valentine's Day, too." He shakes his head playfully.

"What do I do?" Spencer asks. "Wait, no, I can't do anything."

"Just ask her out." Morgan offers, shrugging casually.

It's not as casual for Spencer as it is for Morgan since he's never done it before. He's never even felt like this before. How can someone feel as nervous with butterflies as Spencer does and do something scary like ask someone out? He's really not sure, but it doesn't sound humanly possible.

"No," Spencer says. "I can't."

Then he goes for another shot, drinking more in an attempt to forget about it. He avoids Y/n as much as possible, but at least the blush on his cheeks can be explained by alcohol. By closing time, Spencer's finishing another drink that he shouldn't have had, and he stumbles out of the door.

"Hey, you guys are going the same way, right?" Morgan asks Y/n and Spencer, sharing a little grin with Rossi.

Although he's not about to say it, Spencer knows where she lives. "Two blocks north." Y/n reports.

"Three," Spencer says, struggling to hold up three fingers.

"Come on, we'll walk together." She suggests, ducking her head to avoid Emily shooting her a suspicious look.

Morgan nudges Y/n, smirking at her. "He might need a little help."

"Goodnight, everyone." She waves goodbye to them, walking quickly away from them.

Spencer follows her like an eager puppy, although he's less than graceful in his movements. Thanks to the streetlights, it's still light.

Once she's sure their friends have gone, she walks closer to Spencer. "Are you alright?" She asks.

"Mhm." He answers, slowing up his pace. "Drunk, I think."

She chuckles lightly. "Yeah, you had a bit to drink tonight, huh?" In fact, she's surprised he's still standing, not vomiting in a bush.

"Fuck!" He swears.

She's not sure she's ever heard him swear before and it worries her. "What's wrong?" She asks, stopping to face him.

"It's the fifteenth." He informs her, holding his watch backward so she can read the time. 12:05. It's been a long day.

She didn't realize exactly how long until then. "Yeah, it's late."

"No, I mean it's no longer Valentine's Day." He clarifies, throwing his hands up in the air.

She's still confused. Apparently, he's confusing as well as cute when he's drunk. "What do you mean by that?" She asks.

Spencer's bright red when she looks back up at him, and his filter has been greatly depleted by alcohol, so his words tumble out. "I wanted to ask you to be my Valentine." He says before clearing his throat.

She beams at his confession. "You were going to ask me that?" She confirms.

Spencer nods. "I was just thinking that, uh, it would be better than saying I really like you."

"You can say that too." She assures him, reaching out to touch his hand. He reciprocates, sliding his fingers through hers. "And if you ask, I'll be your Valentine for next year."

"Can I ask next year?" He asks. "I think it might take an entire year for me to get this drunk again and tell you how I feel."  

"I'll ask then." She offers with a laugh. "Spencer, will you go out with me?"

He pulls her closer to him. "I will, but I'm going to need one to two business days to recover from this." He warns.

She laughs, shaking her head. "Okay, I can agree to that."

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[em-writes-stuff-sometimes]

gevivys (beauty) │ Chapter 8: Triumph

terms of endearment ‘verse: see my Masterlist for the correct series order!

Chapter 1 │Chapter 2 │Chapter 3 │Chapter 4 │Chapter 5 │Chapter 6 │Chapter 7 │Chapter 8 │Chapter 9 │Chapter 10 (COMPLETE!)

Synopsis: Daemon returns to King's Landing after ten years in exile, intent on rekindling his affair with Rhaenyra. He wasn't expecting you - the revelation changes everything.

Hello, everyone! Can’t stop, won’t stop! This is a minor edit of the OG chapter, so nothing too new here beyond the odd word change or punctuation adjustment. I’m reasonably confident I’m almost done with the instalment, and after that, it’ll be really minor grammar/style edits and High Valyrian switchouts for the remainder of my series. THEN, I can get into writing new instalments! YAY! Thank you, as always, to my #1 gal, my slap daddy @ewanmitchellcrumbs​​ for giving this the stamp of approval.

TRIGGERS: incest, purity culture, violence, age gap.

Daemon spends the next few days in hiding, taking his meals in his chambers and refusing to venture outside the safe haven of its four walls.

Considering just how many people he had managed to piss off in the space of a single evening, it is probably for the best. He has to admit that, by the third day, the room feels as though it’s closing in on him. That being said, he has little wish to force his company on you after how frightened you had looked, or risk being murdered on sight if either his brother or oldest niece catch a glimpse of him anywhere near you. The fact that he had so thoroughly broken off relations with his old crowd leaves him with little alternative than to remain concealed, out of sight and mind.

Yes, it is best to wait, to let the outcome play itself out. Until Viserys deigns to speak to him again—until he gathers the will to approach you—here he shall remain.

He spends his time reading the old histories, fetched readily by his attending servants. Immersing himself in tales of the Conqueror, the Fall of Ghis, the Doom, he ponders upon his ancestry.

It is a sobering thought, he concludes, to consider how far House Targaryen had risen since the Old Days, from minor dragonlords to rulers of an entire continent.

And yet, for all the power they had amassed, they are all but alone in carrying the memory of their true home. The Freehold is now nothing more than smoking ruins and ashen horizons and fairy stories mothers tell to frighten their children.

It is a day similar to any other when he receives a knock upon the door. Given that the servants tap gently, the domineering pounding upon the wooden surface can only mean that his self-imposed isolation has come to an end. Sighing, he abandons the book and removes himself from the desk, striding over to the entry to reveal his guest.

Daemon had been expecting a member of the Kingsguard. He finds Rhaenyra.

���May I come in?” she asks, hands clasped before her and face impassive. He nods, obligingly standing aside. His niece stops in the middle of the room and turns to face him. It is fascinating that the sight of her no longer arouses the same ardour and shame and torment it had once done, just the throb of an old hurt on a rainy day. “You’ve been avoiding us.”

He chuckles, closing the door. “I had thought that was rather obvious. I didn’t think anyone would particularly enjoy my presence, seeing as I traumatised my poor sweet niece by attacking her suitor in the hallway.”

He focuses his gaze upon the window past her head, unable to look her in the eye.

She huffs a breath. “He deserved it.” She pauses; hesitates. “She’s… confused. And upset.”

His chest tightens at the information.

“I know,” he says quietly. For all his bluster, he had no wish to distress you or see you distressed, and now it seems he is the very cause of it. “I hadn’t intended… well, I suppose it doesn’t matter now.”

“Why?” Rhaenyra blurts, seemingly having paid little attention to his words.

Her utterance is too sudden, too abrupt after the conclusion of his sentence to be motivated by anything other than the wounds of the past. He focuses upon her face properly, frowning lightly when he absorbs the expression of hurt confusion upon it. She steps forward, her composure breaking somewhat in the slump of her shoulders and the relaxing of her spine. 

It all comes spilling out in a rush—every question, every thought, every hurt she must have carried in her soul since he left, waiting for the perfect moment to unleash itself upon his ears.

“Why her? Why me? Why did you leave me there, in that whorehouse, with no means of protection and no way to get home? Why did you bother coming to my wedding, to tell me not to marry Laenor only to turn around and disappear when I begged you to take me away? Why have you returned now, after ten years, only to immediately fixate upon my little sister, one of the few pure things in my life, and seek to mar her the way you did me—” 

“You were a child.”

She barks out a laugh, an ugly, twisted thing, and throws up her hands. “So is she! She’s a girl, Daemon, a girl who knows even less about the capriciousness of men than I did at her age! Is it any wonder I am so protective over her?”

“You demean her.” He leans back against the wall as he surveys her critically. “She’s more intelligent than anyone gives her credit for.”

“Oh, please! You know very well that book learning and worldly knowledge aren’t the same thing!” She stops; sighs. Her hand comes up to clasp the bridge of her nose in consternation. “I didn’t come here to yell at you again.”

“That’s news to me,” is his sardonic counter.

He feels the old guilt and self-loathing rise up again. She isn’t wrong. He has committed grievous acts against his own blood, acts he has never apologised for. And you are innocent, pure in a way that he is almost averse to contaminating, but his very nature will not allow him to resist the temptation of leading you down the path of passion. 

“I was cruel to you,” he says. “I… You never deserved what I did to you that night. But I cannot wish that it never happened, because it’s led us to who we are today. And isn’t that something?”

He comes forward to clasp her face in his hands and stares down at the face of his niece, the Realm’s Delight, his regret and love and hate all tangled into one incomprehensible entity. He presses a kiss to the top of her head, the way he used to when she was a child, and she wilts into his arms the way she did when her mother passed. They stand there, embracing finally as niece and uncle. He almost thinks he can feel some fractured part of him knit back together.

“Do you love her, Uncle?” she whispers, the cadence childish in the way that it was when everything was simple, uncomplicated, free from darkness or loss or despair. The sound is muffled in his chest, but he hears it all the same.

He hesitates, thinking upon you—your bright grin, your pale hair, your free laughter and the sound of your voice, the curve of your body and the way you look up at him, void of disgust or abhorrence. It makes both his cock and his chest ache.

“It’s more complicated than that.” His hand pats against her back comfortingly as he had done when he was himself young, her merely a wailing babe refusing to lay down to sleep. “I will not lie and claim feelings that aren’t there, but… when she looks at me, I feel as though she sees the best parts of who I am. It’s easy to pretend there’s still something good... left.”

“You’re still good, Daemon, no matter what you’ve done,” Rhaenyra says, jabbing him quickly between the ribs in his back. Her nails fucking sting.

He tugs her hair playfully in remonstration, breathing a laugh. “Cheeky. I’ve spent so much of my life being the cause of anger, hate, destruction… I want to be someone’s happiness. I want to be her happiness.” 

Rhaenyra pulls away from him, wiping at her eyes. He is saddened and yet cognisant of the tear that had escaped unbidden, the years of uncertainty and suffering finally earning their release. When she smiles at him, it is a mixture of despondency and contentment—two such warring emotions—that lifts the corners of her mouth.

“I won’t lie and say it isn’t painful to hear you talk about her like she’s… I don’t know. Something worth fighting for, perhaps. But… I’m happy for you.”

She is quiet, earnest as she looks at him. Daemon is warmed by it. He hadn’t been asking for her approval, nor had he been expecting it, but to hear something almost approaching a blessing is a relief. One down…

“But you need to talk to her. She has no idea what’s going on. And if you mean to follow through with it—marry her and all—you can’t just arrange it through Father. It’s her life, and she has the right to refuse you. She pats him lightly on the shoulder as she passes him, walking back the way she had entered.

She turns to face him, smirk adorning her visage, a glint of steel in her eyes. “And know this. You will treat her well, or there shall be no men, dragons or gods that will save you from my wrath.”

Seven fucking hells.

“Understood.” He nods solemnly. His eldest niece really is a force to be reckoned with. She’ll make a fine ruler one day.

“And Daemon?” Rhaenyra beams suddenly, looking the very picture of unblemished youth. “Thank you.” It sweeps out of her, a burst of closure washing away the sins of the past.

She lets herself out.

It is a peculiar echo of their first meeting when he finally ventures out of his chambers in search of you, avoiding all curious stares and titillating whispers as he wanders through the Keep. He is once more relegated to searching the usual haunts, being both unable and unwilling to seek out Ser Harrold after the events of their previous encounter. Stopping by the library and the Hightower spawns’ rooms, there is little to be found.

Eventually, he happens upon the familiar tense stance of Cole, again guarding the entrance to the garden. Ah. There she is.

This time, he strides straight past the knight, not even bothering to posture to him today. He’s unimportant, a waste of his time—he’ll be damned if he expends his energy matching wits with a lowly knight from the Stormlands. This time, you are alone, sitting under the shade of the pavilion. Your legs swing under the bench as you stare pensively out at the trees, the hedges, the flowers.

Again, he calls your name. Again, your head snaps up to face him.

You are markedly more cautious as he makes his way forward, shifting uncomfortably as he takes a seat beside you. Daemon makes sure to leave acceptable space for fear of you running off. He waits for you to initiate the discussion, to take power for yourself where he had stolen it some days prior.

You sit in measured silence for a beat. Your breath hitches as you make abortive attempts to engage with him.

“Lord Tyrell is most aggrieved,” you say finally, quietly, uncertainly.

His nose flares softly. “He dishonoured you,” Daemon takes care not to allow annoyance to seep into his tone. I don’t give a fuck about the Tyrells. “He deserved it.”

“He reacted to the situation. One you placed him in, Uncle.”

Your response is quick, instantaneous, the effect lost by the picture you make as you stare resolutely at your wringing hands. It is your usual indication of anxiety, twisting and winding your fingers together to self-soothe, a babe clutching upon their favourite blanket.  You bite your lip hard, turning away from him and blinking rapidly.

He murmurs your name.

“I—I thought you… cared about me,” you say, whisper-quiet and mournful. “But you just wanted what all the others wanted.”

“No.” He pulls your hands from your lap, smothering the uneasy motions to cradle your small palms in his own. They are cold again, so he grips them tighter, hoping to transfer the warmth of his skin to yours. “Never say that. Of course I care, sweetest girl—”

He pulls his right hand away to lift your chin from where it is tucked against your collarbone, letting the pangs of contrition wash over him at the sight of your quivering lip. “How could you doubt it?”

You sniffle, try to tug your hands from his own. “You spent time with me—listened to me—gave me things,” you murmur, “and I thought you were interested in me, but you are only looking for the Valyrian wife you have longed for.”

Daemon resists you, forces you to look upon him. It is vexing to know that court gossip had reached your ears already. He hopes that is all you have heard.

“What do you know of my longing, hm?” is what he chooses to say, admonishing your line of thought as gently as he can.

Your reaction is telling. Fuck. She’s learned about the—Fuck.

You flush dark at his words, determinedly breaking eye contact. “They say… they say there was a— who looked like—when you went to Flea Bottom one eve…”

Damn it all. Raising his brow, he tries not to let his uneasiness reveal itself. “And do you believe everything the rabble blather on about among themselves? If there is something you must know, you need only ask.”

Not this, he urges silently. Don’t ask me this.

After a moment’s pause, you nod, though the sceptical manner in which you purse your lips suggests you do not accept his misdirection.

He sighs.

“Look”—he taps you lightly on the nose to distract you, steering the conversation quite decisively from his unsavoury exploits—“you are of fine stock and high birth, it’s true. You possess the qualities I want in a bride. But that is not all you are.” Your eyes cross as they follow the path of his finger and a smile threatens to lift the corner of your lip, easing the sting his words may bring. “You are intelligent, and lovely, and quite possibly the fairest maiden in the Realm.”

You snort lightly, and he teasingly pulls at your hands enclosed in his. Half-charmed and half-uncertain, your expression wavers as you stare up at him. He knows he has almost swayed you. Pressing further, he beseeches you with veiled intensity.

“Marry me,” he says. You blink at him, wide-eyed at the shift. “Stay with me, in the capital, with your family and your tutor and your dragon. Bind yourself to me; bear my children. Be my wife… Say yes to me.”

Your breath hitches at his passionate supplication, swallowing as his hand reaches up once more to lay itself upon your cheek. He bends forward, hardly believing you are allowing him so close to you. He is close enough that he can hear your quick breaths, watch the swell of your breasts above the cut of your gown rise and fall with each exhalation, smell the fragrant rose oil upon your skin. It is intoxicating.

You jerk away lightly, abortively. You are not ready.

“Will you make reparations? To Lord Tyrell?” you whisper, a shy peek of pink tongue venturing out to wet your bottom lip.

Daemon is momentarily stunned at the sight, a wild impulse to push forward and claim that lip with his teeth filling him so quickly and violently that he has to bite the inside of his cheek to will it away. He instead huffs a soft breath at your impertinence, flaring up in that unassuming way of yours even now, doe-eyed and sweet-faced and almost his.

“I’ll give him all the gold in my coffers, sweetling.” He nuzzles gently against the side of your face and revels in the victory that is about to be his. It isn’t too difficult a loss. He’ll remake his fortune quickly enough from the Crown’s annual sum. “You need only say the word.” 

“I dislike violence, kepus.” You shiver as his nose nudges softly against yours and withdraw slightly from him. You flick your eyes up to his. “I will not allow unneeded savagery from my husband.”

You are soft-spoken, but the resolve is clear. It is easy to acquiesce to your appeal.

“Then you’ll never have to bear witness to it, unless necessary,” he says, and he cannot help but to add that addendum to his vow. You notice, for your eyes narrow slightly but do not say anything further. He will not curb his nature entirely for you. “Will you trust that I know when it’s needed, little girl?”

You delay, twisting your mouth. Finally, you nod, ever the obedient girl to your elders.

“Good.” He is growing impatient at your stalling, eager to hear the words that have all but spilled forth. “Now—give me your answer. I won’t wait any longer.”

Your reply is an unexpected revelation. “I have… already spoken to Papa.”

How interesting. At least he’s been speaking to someone, Daemon thinks. He’d yet to receive anything but indifference and stony silence from his brother. He pulls back, brow quirked, waiting for you to elaborate.

You shift guiltily in his hold, glancing away momentarily. “Between Jason Lannister, Lord Denys, and Aegon—you are the better option.”

There’s that mischief again. He is overwhelmingly enamoured by it. 

There’s a flash of disappointment that you have not professed your desire for him beyond convenience, that you haven’t admitted to being as tortured as he had been over these past weeks, but that is no matter. He has time. He has all the time in the world to make you his, to make himself the axis upon which your world spins. It has been so long since he has felt so completely gratified in his triumph.

I won’t leave you ever again, he swears, releasing his declaration to the winds of fate. You’ll never be alone.

He presses a fervent kiss to your forehead, resting his own upon yours. Thank you, sweet girl. It never leaves his lips, so he tries to convey it through the touch of his skin and the weight of his palm against your neck, solid and real and constant.

The movement feels almost paternal, though the fervour driving it is anything but. It is a twisted, dark amalgamation of father, protector and lover-to-be, a swirl of all the duties he has and will undertake in your life. He supposes the disinclination to separate these roles is what drives such hatred of Valyrian tradition among the folk of Westeros. But he doesn’t care. He cannot care.

He has won.

He waits silently in the Small Council chamber, eyes wandering around the room as he resolutely ignores the irritable eyes upon him. The withered form of King Viserys sits hunched at the head of his table, staring down the row of seats to his brother with jaw set and assessing countenance.

The effect is rather diminished by the frailty of his form. With limp strands that are more greyish than white, scarred and ruined face, missing limbs and hunched spine, the man is a shadow of the once hale and hearty brother he knew. It makes him uncomfortable to be in his presence, a remorse and ache he feels deep in his bones that he cannot lay bare. For all the many censures he has levied against his brother over the years, it is now when faced with his mortality that he loathes the divide that has grown between them, as insurmountable as steel through rock.

“You’ll reside wherever she desires. Here, or Dragonstone, or wherever else she may choose,” the King says, eyes ever watchful.

Nigh on a sennight and not even a greeting. He’d met Northerners less chilly than the King in this moment.

“Yes, Your Grace.” Daemon tries to tamp down the self-satisfaction he must surely be exuding.

The King notices. “You’ll keep her safe and make her happy.” His voice is even terser than before.

“Yes, Your Grace.”

“You’ll wed in the Sept, under the faith of the Seven.” He cuts Daemon off before he has a chance to speak. “I’ll brook no discontent from the high lords as to the legality of this… union.” The manner in which he utters this tells Daemon all he needs to know as to his brother’s attitude.

How did she manage to convince him? he wonders. You’d told him nothing of the matter, and none other had been present for whatever argument you had utilised to bend the King to your will. Clever girl.

Viserys is still talking. “They’ll not tolerate a foreign ceremony on top of your relation.”

The point is fair. Though he is sure the King had gone to his own deal of trouble to fulfil your choice, he cannot help that it stings.

“I had hoped to wed my bride in the old ways,” Daemon says.

What is the point of tying a bit of ribbon around a pair of hands and chanting some words over it, the sickly scent of burnt sage wafting in the nose and the shift and rumble of bored guests in the crowd? No—he would much rather join to you as the Conqueror had claimed his wives, an elemental union of blood and spirit that no mortal nor gods could tear asunder.

Viserys grunts. “You’ll wed under the Seven. I care little should you choose to follow it with another rite.” The man stands firm upon his declaration, his tone expressing the antipathy he will not put into words.

Daemon mutters under his breath. It isn’t worth the trouble to protest further. Perhaps his brother is correct—it would be simpler to give the nobles a show of goodwill, get the deed over and done with.

He bends to the wishes of his King. “Fine, Your Grace.”

“Good.” Viserys leans back, chair creaking as he presses against the side of the table and stretches out his remaining limb, the joint cracking noisily. “Then I wash my hands of it.”

Daemon can hear what he does not say. ‘Of you.’ That is what he’d meant. It’ll be some time before the man would forgive him this latest trespass—another decade, maybe. For all his ire over Rhaenyra, this may actually be worse, for at least he’d had an excuse to deny his brother and daughter their desire then. Now, nothing stands in the Rogue Prince’s way.

The King smacks his lips in disquiet, the sound loud in the echoing hush of the room. “I only pray she has made the right choice in you.”

“Thank you, brother.”

There is no value in attempting to reassure Viserys of his intentions, as noble as they are ever like to be. Daemon will simply have to prove his merit through action.

“Let us be done with it, then,” his brother mutters, scraping his chair back as he stands and hobbles out of the room. Daemon inclines his head in deference as he passes, following Viserys through the walkway into the Great Hall.

The hall is packed with the lords and ladies of the Realm, finely accoutred in their silks and their jewels, milling about in preparation for the King’s royal announcement. As he enters the chamber, he can spy the men of station his brother has invited to the day’s proceedings, the high lords of the land they rule: Jason Lannister, appearing well and truly livid at having yet another of his prospective Targaryen brides yanked out from under the yoke of his attentions; Jeyne Arryn, the Maiden of the Vale; the ageing Grover Tully, Lord Paramount of the Trident; Boremund Baratheon and his son, Borros; the beaten visage of Lord Denys, and Daemon has to restrain a smirk as the man glares, a prancing peacock with his feathers ruffled; even Cregan Stark, the twelve-year-old Wolf of the North, has made an appearance in his sickly father’s stead.

He spies you to the left of the throne, past Rhaenyra and her sons, past Laenor cradling the smallest boy in his arms. You stand beside the Hightower bitch and her children. It is a bizarre arrangement—from the look on the Queen’s haughty face as she gazes out at the court, nose turned up at the whispers, it had been her idea. Her hand is on your shoulder, though you pay it no mind. Instead, you have been easily diverted by the inane half-speak of the girl beside you, Viserys’ eldritch offspring with her jumbling rambles and muttered riddles.

She is too easily led, he thinks distastefully. I’ll have to remedy that.

Daemon surveys the assemblage of aristocracy below, noting how lacklustre their attempt to veil their curious goggling and riveted gossip. You have not seen beneath the guise of friendliness offered to you by your lady stepmother. A disappointingly half-witted move; if Her Grace had thought to persuade him to her side by positioning herself as his little niece’s companion, she would be sorely frustrated. Their colouring may be Valyrian, but the spawn of Alicent Hightower were no more Targaryen than the flaxen-haired maid who empties his chamberpot in the mornings. He’d be damned if the fruit of her womb replaced Rhaenyra’s rightful claim.

Viserys climbs the steps to the throne with some effort, having to swing his body to land the last two steps properly. It is no doubt a humiliating spectacle to endure, and he feels a pang of sympathy in his chest. Daemon stops to stand beside Laenor, his cousin and goodnephew by marriage.

Goodbrother also, soon. What a perplexing notion.

Finally, the King turns to face his audience, sitting gingerly upon the seat. He has likely cut his backside again. When he takes his place, the hall quietens, stooping to bend or curtsey in performance of their obeisance.

“I welcome the Lords of the Realm to King’s Landing.” For all the deterioration of his body, there is no doubt that his voice is as strong as ever, the tenor booming through the echoing space. “I have an announcement to make—that of the birth of my grandson, your Prince, Joffrey of House Velaryon, delivered of my heir the Princess Rhaenyra four moons past.”

Daemon glances at Laenor and Rhaenyra, his lips upturning despite himself. Their joy is infectious. His eldest niece affects an aspect of polite gratification, and Laenor beams as the assembly applauds in recognition of the boy’s birth. There are, however, several odd glimpses made toward the proud form of Ser Harwin Strong, stationed ever faithfully at the foot of the steps nearest Rhaenyra. The rumours will never outrun her.

Viserys raises his hand to settle the room once more. “I must also make proclamation of my second-born daughter’s impending nuptials.”

The words carry even louder, a response to the surprised hum that lifts the room. After all, you had only been courting for a small window of time, and it was not yet rumoured that you had a favourite.

“It is my decree that she is to be given in marriage to my brother, Prince Daemon of House Targaryen, son of Baelon and Alyssa of the same House, former King of the Stepstones and the Narrow Sea, to continue the strength of our noble heritage and prosper the blood of Old Valyria.”

The shocked gasps and scandalised chatter fill the hall with a wash of racket as he strides down the steps, waiting impatiently for you to descend and meet him at the foot of the throne. It is a practised gesture, but one you must perform, nonetheless. You lift your skirts, scaled black like the heraldry of your shared House, and trail down the stairs at a more sedate pace.

You stop before him and curtsey lightly.

“I welcome the news of this match, my Prince,” you say, your voice ringing out clear despite the evident apprehension swimming in the violet of your eyes.

The din has receded to a low mumble, the court unsure what to make of this unexpected declaration. Daemon bows slowly before you, capturing your hand in his and pressing his lips to your flesh in a motion of aristocratic gentility. He is sure the way he stares upon you is anything but gentlemanly. A flush begins to bloom once again, adorning the pale of your skin.

“I am honoured to receive your hand, Princess.” Though he can hear his own lower tones reverberate in his ears, it is strangely intimate. For a moment, he forgets there are others in the room.

A predictable flutter circulates among the ladies of the court, sighs and murmurs and breathy chatter too far off to discern. He grins as he steps forward to tuck your arm in his own, leading you away from the Queen and her ilk. The court claps, and whether it be in shock or in genuine gladness, he cares not. All he sees is you, brimming with unease and yet clutching to him tightly, his darling girl once more seeking refuge with her fiercest protector.

There, on the steps to the Iron Throne in the Great Hall of the Red Keep, your arm entwined in his, he smiles.

Read on AO3:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/42100623/chapters/106169205

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[kbagraces]

Curious Time - Lando Norris

Lando Norris x Singer!reader

Multiple part series where their friendship was easy, their feelings were confusing and the distance was the hardest <3

(3rd person perspective)

PART 3 -

BUBBLEGUM

"It's sad because it just hurts. I'd do anything for you."

The week drawing to a close, a sad vibe lingered between the two of them. They cherished the moments they spent together, but with the final day approaching they both struggled to keep spirits high.

With both of their career paths, it was hard to fit into each other lives, but Lando's summer break ending and you preparing for the release for her next single, she knew contact would fall back to a minimum. They were both the most important people in one another's lives, even if they didn't speak for a year that would remain true, but bitter sweet.

The staycations would become day visits, turning to missed calls and sparse texts until their schedules aligned once more. She hated saying goodbye, she hated leaving him. She wished either of the jobs was less demanding but neither would ever give it up despite the toll it took on the two of them.

The final day was here. They agreed on day in bed as her flight was late and she couldn't be tired and miss it. The day was filled with hugs and sweet nothings, days like today is the only time she blurred the friendship line, when sober that is. Nothing too intimate, they'd never take it that far but her fingers would find their way into his curls as he's lying on her lap. Massaging any stress he has away, knowing it'll come flooding back as soon as she leaves.

"I wish you didn't have to go. Everything is easier with you here." He sighs. His head lifting up, sitting beside her so he can look in her eyes.

"You'll be fine in a week and you know it. Back to normal, you'll busy yourself with work and soon enough you'll be racing, you won't have time to give me a second thought." She smiles, she knows the first week is the hardest, but they're both cut from the same loaf, distract yourself with work and it soon enough goes. Until a hard day hits and all she needs is him.

"You're never a second thought and you know it. You're first in my life, always."

She could cry, she would never not in-front of him that's not fair on either of them. But God does she adore him. She couldn't live without him. "You're my favourite. I wish I could stay."

Silence takes over once more, nothing more needs to be said. An hour more of cuddling this way the sun has set the room dimly lit by the street lamps and the glow of the city.

"I need to make sure I've got all my stuff." She sighs shifting his head off her lap. Slithering out of bed, dragging herself to the room, her bags mainly packed but she likes to check then check again. She drags each bag to the front door, another quick glance over the now empty room making sure she hasn't forgotten anything.

Lando's now stood in the doorway once more, "I'll miss having your mess everywhere."

"It wasn't mess! It was so I was able to see what I brought with me!" She fires back, knowing he was only joking.

She falls into his arms, she has to leave now. He can't take her to the airport it's far too busy for the two of them to both arrive there. A mob at an airport is one way to piss the staff off before a flight.

She breathes in her scent once more, he kisses the top of her heard. "Don't go." He mumbled into her hair.

"That's not fair Lan, and you know it.", she looks up at him with sad eyes, their faces inches apart. His eyes dart between hers, he's leaning in.

He kisses her, she doesn't even comprehend before returning the kiss. Just like them laying together they fit. It's right. This feels right. So why is she pulling away, why is she pushing him away.

"We can't Lando, we can't do that. Please don't do that." Oh but I want to do that again, her heart says but her head is stronger.

He looks hurt and confused, "Why? y/n/n I know you feel it. Everyone says it. Come on." He grabs her hands pulling her close, not to kiss her again but to lessen the distance. He doesn't like how far she pulled away, he needs her close. Always.

"I can't do this Lando. Not now. Not when I'm leaving. I know what'll happen you'll promise me stuff and I'll promise you stuff. But we can't maintain it, not with the distance. And I'll lose you, one of us will get hurt and I'll lose you. I can't lose you." Tears appear in the corner of her eyes but she wipes them away before they can exit. Don't cry, dammit, she thinks.

Lando let's go of her hands now, running his own through his hair in frustration and upset. "You won't try? You won't even try? You'll never lose me no matter what. This could be good, so good and you won't try?" He's aware he sounds desperate, apart of him is. Having her here for almost a month has made him more aware of his feelings than even.

"We've never even discussed this Lando! You can't say all this as I'm about to leave!"

"I don't need to say it! I know you feel the same. It's us, I know how you feel. 'He's not you' that's what you said."

"I'd love it work Lan. I'd love nothing more. We can't even keep our friendship going for months, let alone a relationship. Please don't be angry at me. I need to in my life I don't want to risk losing you in case it doesn't work."

Lando knows in his soul it would work. There's nothing in the world he wouldn't do to make it work. He can't force her mind to change however.

"I disagree. But I can't force you. Im always yours. I'll always be yours, y/n/n. It's you." He pulls her in for a hug, her phone ringing in the background. The Uber having just arrived at the worst time.

He clears his throat, weak from holding back tears and frustration, "I'll bring ur bags down, I'll meet you down there, tell him to wait 5."

Y/n runs ahead, speaking to the Uber driver in her limited French as Lando loads up the boot. The driver gets in, sensing the goodbye should be private.

"Lan, I'm yours but it just won't work."

What does that mean? He wants to scream. He knows she wants him. That's why she rejects every man who's not him. She's shown no romantic interest in anyone else since they met, she hides behind the work excuse, because she wants him, she just won't give herself to him.

"I'll wait." He promises.

"You don't have to."

"Then how come I do?"

They hug for a little too long, the driver visibly getting impatient. They don't care. She kisses him, on the cheek this time, like she always does. He makes her promise to call him when she lands, she does but she knows he'll be asleep, and the drifting apart will begin again. It's only a matter of time.

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#lando norris #ln4 #lando norris x reader #f1

[deansapplepie]

Inherited | Chapter 5

Summary: You go find Merle and end up drunk with him. Rick Grimes have to call Daryl to get both of you. With the alcohol come some confessions and

Warning: Mentions of Leah (Daryl’s not a cheater, just stupid), alcohol consumption, drunk people, mentions of drugs, mentions about sex, Daryl and his lack of knowledge about technology, very small hangover, lil bit of jealous Y/N. Minors DO NOT interact 18+

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader

Word Count: 3,166

A/N: Sorry for taking too long, but the ones that follow up the things I share know how my life has been. Thanks for your patience, love you all.

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Chapter 4 Chapter 5

Chapter 5: Why d’ya hate me?

Days passed and he didn’t say a word about the picture or Merle. You also didn’t find it in the trash, so you considered he kept it. Your conversations were simple and plainly about business, from time to time of course you’d throw a bitter comment at each other. 

That day you didn’t see him around, he had gone hunting and didn’t even bother to tell you. Well, it’s not like he had to, but you lived together and it’s good to know where the people you live with are, for safety, what if the person is murdered or kidnapped and nobody knew where this person went? 

You spent the whole morning doing some work for Aaron as you promised, by lunchtime he still didn’t have arrived back at the farm. ‘Fuck him’, you thought. You were also going to leave and you’d not tell him. You took your bag and the keys of the old truck, and left to do what you should’ve done days ago. 

You took the old road going deeper and deeper into the woods. You were surprised you still remember the way, because when you started this journey you were afraid you’d get lost. Soon, you were parking your car in front of the Dixon’s cabin. You got off of the car and walked to the front door. ‘I hope Merle is here, and sober’, you thought. You knocked on the door, once, twice, 4 times and after 15 minutes you gave up. There was two options for Merle, 1 he was passed out after drinking and/or drugging himself too much, 2 he was out at town. So you decided to bet on the chance that he could be in town. 

You drove your car on the streets, hoping to see him in one of the bars and you weren’t wrong. You found him just where you thought he’d be, at a bar. You parked the truck and went inside the bar to see your old friend. 

“I knew soon or later ya’d come and look for me doll.” Merle said before you got close to him. “What took ya so long?”

“Your asshole brother, I guess. And of course, now I have a lot of job to do.” Once you got close to him, he engulfed you in a tight hug. A so welcome and familiar hug, damn Dixons knew how to give a good hug. You missed it. “How have you been? Your brother wouldn’t tell me a thing!”

“I’m busy during the week, working on some… business and hunting too.”

 ‘Oh Merle, you’re still involved in this kind of business?’, you thought.

“Don’t you get tired of seeking trouble?” You ask him, already sitting next to him.

“I’m not looking for trouble, I’ve been busy and there’s some years that I don’t get arrested. At least not for the things you’re thinking.” He defended himself.

“Still a hot head and getting involved in bar fight, ain’t you?” You know this was probably the reason.

“It’s making wonders to my friendship with my favorite officer Grimes.” You laughed, you knew him and Rick were far from friends, they mostly despised each other. Rick was probably tired of arresting him and having to call Daryl every single time.

“You’re really something Merle.” You missed his lame jokes too. You wish you had come to see him earlier.

“How’s baby bro?” Merle asked and suddenly the small cup of alcohol he had in front of him became very interesting. “He’s not talking to me. Since ya returned. Guess, I should blame ya.”

“Not my fault. I have no idea what’s going on in his head, I’ve been trying to make things easier between us, but… I guess it’s impossible. We can’t have a conversation without being dicks.” You said honestly, it really annoyed you all of this, and you had always found a good listener in Merle. “But… answering your question, he’s the same grumpy ass and I think he’s still pretty much affected by everything that happened to my dad. He always locks himself in his own shell, and it’s difficult to get past it. You know how he is.”

Merle nodded but didn’t say anything. “I think you’re right, it’s my fault he’s not talking to you. He mentioned I’m good at telling you things and talking to you. Because you opened your big mouth to scold him for the things I told you.”

“And I dun regret scolding him, he deserved.” He was a stubborn ass, he would never admit it.

You asked for some beer and appetizers and continued to talk with Merle. “He hates me Merle…”

“Pffft… don’t be dramatic no one could ever hate ya sweet pie!” Even drunk he managed to be nice to you, many times you got caught in your thoughts thinking why he couldn’t do the same for other people. 

“He does...” You said, and then started bickering your beer. 

You wanted to talk to Merle about the idea you had of him working in the farm with you, but of course you had conditions for it. He was already a little tipsy when you arrived, you preferred to call to him sober – if it was possible – so you took the afternoon to drink and talk to him. 

The afternoon soon became evening and some hours later old John Lee wanted to close the bar and go home to rest and see his wife, but Merle and you were passed out in your table. The poor man had no option but to call Sheriff Rick Grimes to help. 

From all the people in the world, you were the last one that Rick would think that would have to make him need to come to a bar to solve a problem. He took his phone and called Daryl, after what seemed like an eternity he answered it.

“Wha’ did he do this time?” It was late, for Rick Grimes to call at this hour, it had to be Merle causing problems.

“Not exactly him… he’s here, but he did nothing. Y/N and him are passed out at Lee’s. He needs to close the bar. Can you come and take them?” He drawled, his hand passing on his jaw, a little bit worried.

“Do I have a choice?” Daryl asked to no one in particular, he didn’t need an answer. “Gimme 15 minutes, and I’ll be there.” 

Shortly after he got to the bar, he speeded so much that he didn’t even need 15 minutes. Your truck was parked in front of the bar, so he’d need to use it to take you back home. He wasn’t prepared to see you and Merle passed out. Your head resting on the older Dixon’s shoulder, while his head was hanging behind and he didn’t even seemed to be uncomfortable with it.

“ ‘m sorry…” Daryl apologized to the old man, it wasn’t the first time he had to apologize to him, it wasn’t the second time either.

“It’s ok kid. The young lady seemed like she needed to drink and a good conversation with a friend.” John Lee said and moved his head in your direction to indicate he was talking about you, even though it wasn’t needed.

“Hm..” he grunted he didn’t want to stop and think about what the man said, because if he did his line of thought would remember him of all the reasons you had for it. He took his wallet and asked the man what they owned him and paid it, like he always had to do when he needed to come for Merle.

“Why did she drink like this? It doesn’t sound like her drinking this much.” Rick asked Daryl in curiosity, of course he had already seen you drunk, being silly, happy and dumb, but never passed out drunk.

“Yer guess is as good as mine…” he answered and Rick gave him a look that said ‘you don’t think I’m going to believe it.’. He went to you and looked if you had a bag or anything, nothing. Just great, the keys were probably in your pocket. 

“Y/N…” he called you, you just hummed in response. “Y/N, where’s the key?” Nothing. Freaking fucking shit. He didn’t want to be a creep and shove his hand in your pockets. “Ok… I’m gonna look in yer pockets and gonna take it, al’ight?” He said as if you were going to understand a thing in your state.

Once he found the keys he took it as fast as possible from your pocket and threw it at Rick so he could open the car for him. Daryl took you in his arms and stiffened when he felt you snuggling against his chest. Damn, there was a long, long, looong time he didn’t have you in his arms, and your smell it was still the same. If it wasn’t weird and against everything he had been saying and doing, he would allow himself to burry his face in your hair and smell it. He took you to the car and sat you in the middle of the sit, fastening the seat belt before he went back to Merle.

“Merle! Wake up!” He commanded and kicked his brother’s foot slightly. “Com’on sleeping beauty, I’m not carrying ya to the truck!”

“Do ya wanna some help?” Rick asked, by the looks he knew Merle wouldn’t cooperate.

“Think so…”

Rick helped Daryl taking Merle to the car and once everyone was settled, he left town with the two drunks and praying his baby, his bike, wasn’t stolen or harmed until he came to take it home again. The drive was long and silent, he had a lot of time to think about all sorts of things. When his thought came to you he tried to put them aside, but your head that had fell on his shoulder wasn’t helping it at all.

Once he arrived at the farm he took care of Merle first, despite the older Dixon not being able to keep his eyes open, at least he cooperated a little with his legs not letting all his weight fall on Daryl that was supporting him inside the house. He took Merle to his room in the basement and almost regretted it the moment he tripped on the stairs and the two almost rolled it. He put his brother in his bed and didn’t even bother to take of his shoes or anything and left to take you from the truck. 

He had to carry you once again, this time you were a little bit more conscious because you wrapped you arm around his neck. You inhaled his scent and it brought a comfort to you while he carried you to your room, but it also made you remember that you shouldn’t, deep in your subconscious you fought a battle that not even yourself had any idea. He kicked the door of your room open, put you in bed and worked on taking off your boots. He checked you one last time and when he was leaving, he was surprised by your hand yanking his pulse and his name been called, taken by surprise he fell on his ass on the mattress a few inches distant from you, and he needed to be grateful for it because it spared him from the embarrassment and probably crushing and hurting you.

God damn, what could you want from him at this time and in your state? He looked at your face and you had your eyes half open. “Why? Why d’ya hate me?” You drawled, your southern accent showing up in your drunk state, since your brain was relaxed and you didn’t have to worry about masking it. You knew you didn’t need to mask it anymore, but the trauma you had with the other kids made your brain being in constant alert even when you didn’t need to.

He was taken aback by your question, it shouldn’t surprise him, you were 24/7 bickering at each other, but he didn’t have a strong feeling like hatred for anyone, except Shane, Dwight and Negan, but they didn’t count. Most people hated them too, maybe not Dwight but… “I dun hate you.” He answered. You had hurt him, but he had not gone easy on you and after that he said so much worse. Despite all the anger he felt inside himself and all the mean things he had  told you, part of him didn’t know if he said it to torment you or to punish himself.

“So, why…?” You asked again and he was almost ready to say one more time he didn’t hate you, but you spoke first. “Why did ya sleep with ‘er?”

He was taken aback, what were you talking about? He hadn’t been sleeping with anyone. Were you drunk hallucinating? “You could have fucked any girl, we weren’t together… so, why her?”

“What are ya talking about? I dun understand. Yer drunk, go to sleep.” He said trying to free his arm from your hand, but you tightened your grip.

“Leah… why her? I was going to call ya, I wanted to apologize, but that photo… it killed me.” Fuck. He had just slept with Leah once. After she showed him a photo of you and Aaron at uni. She wanted him to be mad at you, nobody knew you had broken up, he hadn’t told it to anyone. Until that moment, when he faked indifference and announced you weren’t together anymore. He didn’t think about it. He was 19 and stupid, and he had sex with her one time. But which photo? “Ya knew she hated me. Why?”

“I was stupid, stubborn and dumb. That’s why.” He said, he could see your eyes shining, the indication of tears. He caressed the hand that held his arm until you relaxed and he could release it. “Which photo are ya talking about?” He asked, gosh he really hoped you were too drunk to remember it the next day.

“The one… the one she posted on facebo..” and you had fallen asleep, as easy and simple like this. Facebook? Damn, he never had one. He hated all that social media shit. Probably that’s the reason he never knew about. He put a blanket over you and swiped 2 lonely tears that came from your closed eyes.

He headed downstairs and entered the office, turning on the computer. He took his phone from his pocket and called back to the last number that had called him.

“What the fuck, Daryl? Do You know what time is it?” A sleepy Rick complained on the other side of the call.

“Ya call me late at night to pickup my drunken brother from time to time, ya own me.” The cowboy argued.

“ ‘kay, what do you need?” The sheriff asked impatiently.

“How the heck do I make a facebook and how can I see the photos someone posted?” He threw the random questions that got Rick even more confused.

“You own me an explanation after this, and I want the whole story. Wait a minute…” The sheriff said, then covering the speaker of the phone, his voice resonated through his house. “CARRRL!”

The following morning you woke up with a stinging pain in your head, the sunlight that came through the window almost blinding you. You sat on the bed and felt your stomach aching. How did you end up like that? You just remembered being at the bar with Merle, drinking and… nothing. Everything was a blur. Did you drive back home in your drunken state? Impossible. No. 

You got up from bed and took care of yourself before heading downstairs. When you entered the kitchen you saw Merle at the table and Daryl in the kitchen. “ ‘morning…” you said weakly damn, you should never drink like this again.  “Merle, what are you doing here?”

“I had to pick your two stupid asses at Lee’s. Merle, I’m always expecting this from him, but you…” he said pointing his finger at you, a dishrag on his shoulder and a spoon in his hand. “It was as very unexpected, even coming from you.” 

You sat and looked at him, finding very funny the whole scene. “Ok, mom. I’m not doing it again.”

“Listen here, ya little shit…” he started to say, but stopped mid-sentence when he noticed that he was actually behaving like a mom.

He turned back to the stove and put 2 bowls of chicken noodles soup with veggies and eggs. He put the bowls in front of both of you. “What’s that, Darylina? This isn’t breakfast.” Merle complained.

“It’s a noodles soup. Carol said it’s good for hangover, eat.” He said and went back to take a bowl for him, that wasn’t his usual breakfast, but no way he would do any other thing.

You looked at him, squeezing your eyes as if you couldn’t see things clearly. Since when did he listen to anyone’s advice? And was he this close to Carol that she went giving him advices like this? Did they get drunk together? “And what does she know about it?” You threw the question before your could close your mouth and keep the words to yourself.

“She’s a mom, mom’s know this things.” He answered as if it was obvious and sat at the table to start eating.

“Her daughter is 15, Daryl. She doesn’t get drunk.” You said taking a spoonful of the soup.

“We got drunk the firs’ time with less age than her, so I ain’t understanding your point.” He answered. If humans snarled, you would have snarled at that moment. Damn him and his necessity of being always right. “Take yer soup, and stop talking.”

“As if you’re the boss of me…” you muttered, but he preferred to ignore it and eat. Were you jealous of Carol? No, he shouldn’t think about it. The day before had already a lot of happenings to make him think about.

Merle silently observed both of you having your little argument. If he wasn’t busy with the food, he’d have to comment that you still had the hots for each other, but instead he chose to eat while he had free entertainment. That was a good way to start his morning.

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