#AND THE IDEA THAT HE'S GOOD ENOUGH TO BAG MARY......LETS DIVE INTO IT

[lesbianfreyja]

i think the most unbelievable part of supernatural is that we’re supposed to believe that john winchester went to heaven 🙄

I KNOWWWW like i straight up forgot he went to hell cuz he made a deal with azazel, i was just like yeah remember when he went to hell originally because of who he is as a person? that sounds more right

#AND THE IDEA THAT HE'S GOOD ENOUGH TO BAG MARY......LETS DIVE INTO IT #anon #ask #spn watch

[hellhoundsprey]

No. 5 - I’VE GOT RED IN MY LEDGER

betrayal | misunderstanding | broken nose

a/b/o dynamics, omega!dean, beta!cas, doctor!cas, alpha!sam, always female sam, jealousy, violence, claiming bites, mentioned mpreg, implied past rape

~

~

Sam doesn’t try to evade the punch. No: she welcomes it.

The sound is as nauseating as it is satisfying. It’s Dean who ends up yelping. Castiel winces from a not-so-safe distance.

“You happy?! Huh?!” Dean cradles his hand. Sam remains apathetic until the blood shoots up her sinuses. She chokes, covers her mouth. Leans away to spit, and her nose looks broken, and Castiel tells them so, and Dean says, gravelly: “Good.”

Castiel tends to both siblings. The misery in Sam’s scent doesn’t quite outpower her general satisfaction over what she’s done. Castiel clenches his teeth and finishes patching her up. Clean break. Her face swells rapidly.

“You know I had to do it,” the Alpha repeats, her huge hand careful on Castiel’s healthy arm—he flinches, regardless. Sam blinks. A little girl in there, somewhere. From ages ago. Tender, if she chooses to be. “They would have sniffed it out. I had to.”

Just because Sam is right doesn’t make it right.

Dean continues to withdraw. Barely responds, refuses to drink. It’s ninety degrees in the car and Castiel has to climb into the back with the Omega to hook him up with another IV. Sam keeps facing the steering wheel, but her eyes do flicker to the rearview an awful lot.

If Dean’s body could, it would wind out and away from every touch. Castiel can’t omit much from his already-careful ministrations. There is only so much space he can give Dean, now. Even if they do make it to their destination tonight, forcing Dean push through will be a gamble with his life.

They make it. Castiel grabs his bags and gives the Jeep a last, grateful pat on the overheated hood before they leave it behind. The stolen plates they don’t bother to take with them.

The border patrol gives them an understandably curious look. Castiel smacks their passports down onto the narrow surface in front of their window.

“We got mugged. Please proceed. He needs medical attention.”

The patrol’s eyes switch back and forth between the papers and Sam and Dean. The weak whistle whenever Dean manages a breath, the steel of Sam’s eyes, her posture. Dean’s limp arm over her shoulders, her hold—on him. Carrying, like Castiel had done, back at the house. Ages ago, it feels like, instead of the actual twenty-something hours. Castiel nods at Sam, and Sam doesn’t nod back, but they get their passports and they continue, and nobody stops them.

Castiel’s contacts arranged everything as discussed. Sam is visibly taken aback, but she doesn’t address Castiel until after they put Dean to bed, until after Castiel set him up as best he could to ensure Dean makes it through the night. When he turns to stand, Sam is already there, waiting. In the door frame, her arms crossed. She took her jacket off, finally. They lock eyes, and Castiel can tell the Alpha isn’t out for a fight, not now, and he can only hope it’ll stay that way. At least until Dean is conscious again. Or, better yet: stable.

“Sorry about your arm,” she says, in the kitchen, trailing him. Water. Food. They should eat. Castiel searches the cabinets for something quick and substantial. “I’m real sorry, man. I’ve never… I had no idea I could get like that. Seriously.”

Castiel turns to face Sam. She cringes, seems to hold onto her arms more than keeping them crossed. Her left eye is swollen so bad she must barely be able to see out of it. Part of Castiel delights for the sight.

It’s dark, blue. Deep night, faint music from a tourist dive bar across the street. Terracotta tiles. Like a vacation home, because it is. Was. Is, sometimes, when it’s not used for situations like—theirs. Now.

“What you did was incredibly stupid. You almost killed him. I fear less about my arm than about the risk you obviously pose to your own brother, Sam.”

Sam winces. She seems smaller, now, with all her fuses blown, with her brother marked and barely-alive in a bed behind an ajar door but at least he’s safe, at least they—made it this far. Castiel caves, frowns; puts down the cans of food. They should sleep. They should all just—sleep.

“What—were you thinking? I had it all set up, we were gonna give him suppressors, pheromones, it wasn’t—Christ, you’re his sister, not his—”

“I had to.” Castiel stares, but Sam just keeps shaking her head, staring back. “I had to, doc, I… When I saw him, caught his scent again, I knew I—I’m not taking any more chances. I’m just not.”

Castiel sighs. He frowns down at the cans, gestures. Sleep. Eat. You don’t have to think. In fact, you can’t, so what’s the point? “Would you help me with this, please?” he asks, and the Alpha’s rigid stare dips a little softer with it. She steps in as Castiel steps back to lean against the kitchen counter, to drag his healthy hand down his face. Sleep. Just this, then you can sleep. “I can’t exactly—do it with one hand. … Thank you.”

The sleep Castiel finds that night is shallow, but it suffices in making him clear enough to look after Dean like Dean needs. Castiel moves quietly on habit. Sam snores through her broken nose on the floor next to the bed on the side where Castiel is not working. She took off her boots at some point, her jeans. Dragged a sheet and a pillow from a linen closet, because Castiel on the couch surely didn’t notice. Castiel counts Dean’s heartbeats. He exchanges the IV bag and the bedpan. When he returns with the washed-out latter, Sam is awake, sitting on the bed. Holding Dean’s hand, the bruised one. Castiel narrows his eyes and proceeds with his care. Sam doesn’t try to interfere.

“Move, please,” Castiel says. Sam just looks at him. Castiel points at the bandages Sam’s thumbs are skirting around oh-so-carefully. “I need to change the dressing. Yours, too, while I’m at it.”

Sam suffers, but she only moans about it a tiny bit, fully aware that this is of her own making. Broken noses are nasty, though. Castiel hands her something for the headache. She swallows it dry without hesitation.

“You are very much alike, I will give you that.”

“Yeah. I mean, he raised me, basically.” Sam nods, still drowsy with sleep. If Castiel asked, she might fix them a round of coffee. “After Mom died, and then after Dad disappeared…it was just us. We only had each other.”

“‘Disappeared’?”

“Loan sharks.”

Castiel deflates, nods. He sits back down with Sam, runs his hand back over his head, his messy, grimy hair. He looks back at Dean. Sam does, too.

“When Michael came and found us, when he saw—Dean, it was a done deal. Was supposed to be about paying back, he said, at first, but Dean never came back, so I figured.” In Castiel’s peripheral, Sam nods. Slow, deep in thought. In memories. Dean’s face is perfectly motionless in his sleep. A false peacefulness, but a peacefulness at last. “I searched, but I never came up with anything. Nothing. Not one hint where they were. So, eventually, I thought: okay, I’ll go into law, I’ll find sources and contacts, and I’ll… And now, he’s just—here.” She blinks, fascinated. She again holds Dean’s hand in hers. “It’s crazy. I never thought I’d…”

She doesn’t continue. She doesn’t have to.

~

Everything takes Dean time. More time than he’d like. Sam has to actively hold him down when Castiel breaks it to him that no, he can’t stand up yet. Dean likes that even less.

“Are you kidding?! Why did you get me out of that damn hole if I can’t even use my own fucking LEGS now?!”

Castiel warns, “You will fall and you will hurt yourself,” and Dean proves his point once they leave him to calm down. He growls, snarls. Feral, a fox with a beartrap on its leg, and as useless as Castiel’s, “Dean, please be logical about this,” is, Sam’s open-handed slap to Dean’s cheek is effective.

Castiel flinches; gawps. Stares at Sam, who is calm, pinched; and Dean is shocked too but he stops arguing, at last. Lets them haul him back into bed, still obviously angry and denying any further conversation or contact, but there is no other accident when Castiel and Sam leave once more. The lack of remorse in Sam’s scent sours Castiel. He’s never—siblings, for Christ’s sake. Orphans, left to their own devices, but—this is mayhem. As if Dean hadn’t gotten his fill with Michael already.

In the kitchen, subdued but pressing: “You will stop disciplining him in that way. I will not allow it.”

“Or what?”

“Or I—Jesus, girl, he was locked in a cell, for years, by a pathological sadist! What else do you have to know in order to NOT press every single one of his trauma response buttons?! Jesus Christ—” Castiel paces to the kitchen counter. He doesn’t put much care into being tender with the coffee machine. “Jesus, Mary and Joseph, you Winchester lot sure goddamn know how to be fucking sensible.”

#whumptober2021 #no.5 #broken nose #supernatural #fic #violence #mentioned mpreg #implied past rape #a/b/o dynamics #THE wincestiel thing #hellhoundsprey

[vivithefolle]

Vivs, I came across this from a "Ron's a jealous slacker" fan, please use your expertness to contradict this stupid statement. Y do ron stans refuse to accept that he just wanted attention without actually doing any hardwork! Didn't he just desire being a headboy & a quidditch captain? He would have achieved it if he would stop being a self piting, lazy person & actually study or practice to achieve his dreams! he doesn't deserve any sympathy we live in actual world where hardwork matters only.

The funniest thing about this is that they’re actually talking about Harry.

Harry actually never did put in effort to achieve things. Except this once when he mastered the Patronus at 13, we’ll give him that. But Quidditch? Oh he just hops on a broom and woah suddenly he’s flying so well he’s in the Quidditch team and gets a great broom and is totally the bestest and a total fucking Mary Sue! Fighting against Voldemort? Well thank god for Loveus Ex Machina that always saves your ass without ever making you lift a finger ever! And how he defeated Voldemort too? With a spell he learned in second year and he only won that fight because ~surprise~ Voldemort’s wand wasn’t okay with killing Harry for bullshit plot reasons. Amazing. Wonderful. Inspiring. Our hero, everyone, never actually worked for anything a day in his life, ever.

Meanwhile Ron? Actually worked hard to get on the Quidditch team, which was something he dreamed of. Actually moved his ass to learn to fight and didn’t have the luxury of ~lurrrrve~ to excuse him out of fights.  Ron actually did MORE than Harry ever did, but of course, protagonist-centred favouritism paired with mindless Harmonian propaganda won’t let you realize that because it’s just so much easier to imagine yourself as ~the special one :))~.

...

Ron is lazy you say.

Did he really believe he was better than Ron? No, said the small voice defiantly. Was that true? Harry wondered, anxiously probing his own feelings. I’m better at Quidditch, said the voice. But I’m not better at anything else. That was definitely true, Harry thought; he was no better than Ron in lessons. But what about outside lessons? What about those adventures he, Ron, and Hermione had had together since they had started at Hogwarts, often risking much worse than expulsion? Well, Ron and Hermione were with me most of the time, said the voice in Harry’s head. - Order of the Phoenix, chapter 9

Harry must be lazy too then.

Ah, but Harry’s word isn’t enough, since, after all, he does say himself that Hermione is like his sister, yet there’s a bunch of irreducible folks who insist on disregarding their hero’s agency whenever it is convenient for them. Therefore let’s go grab quotes that will settle the matter once and for all:

Ron had taken over responsibility for Buckbeak's appeal. When he wasn't doing his own work, he was poring over enormously thick volumes with names like The Handbook of Hippogriff Psychology and Fowl or Foul? A Study of Hippogriff Brutality. He was so absorbed, he even forgot to be horrible to Crookshanks. - Prisoner of Azkaban, chapter 15

Doing his own work AND working on something that won’t give him extra credit once Hermione finally swallowed her pride and apologized (for the first and last time in the books). But yeah totally lazy blah blah blah.

“But what have you got your broom for, you haven’t been flying, have you?” Harry asked. “I — well — well, okay, I’ll tell you, but don’t laugh, all right?” Ron said defensively, turning redder with every second. “I-I thought I’d try out for Gryffindor Keeper now I’ve got a decent broom. There. Go on. Laugh.” ‘“I’m not laughing,” said Harry. Ron blinked. “It’s a brilliant idea! It’d be really cool if you got on the team! I’ve never seen you play Keeper, are you good?” “I’m not bad,” said Ron, who looked immensely relieved at Harry’s reaction. “Charlie, Fred, and George always made me Keep for them when they were training during the holidays.” “So you’ve been practicing tonight?” “Every evening since Tuesday... just on my own, though, I’ve been trying to bewitch Quaffles to fly at me, but it hasn’t been easy and I don’t know how much use it’ll be.” Ron looked nervous and anxious. “Fred and George are going to laugh themselves stupid when I turn up for the tryouts. They haven’t stopped taking the mickey out of me since I got made a prefect.” - Order of the Phoenix, chapter 13

……………. Well damn. Remember how hard Harry had to train to get the Seeker position?

Oh that’s right, I forgot: HE DIDN’T! Because Chosen One Boy-Who-Lived poor orphan protagonist blah blah.

Ron though? Ron WORKED to get his position. Ron practiced, Ron worked out a way to practice alone by enchanting stuff to fly to him. When did Harry do that? Ah yes, he didn’t, because he had Oliver coaching him so he never had to figure out how to train by himself.

Meanwhile Ron was reading two years of Charms notes with his fingers in his ears, his lips moving soundlessly; Seamus was lying flat on his back on the floor, reciting the definition of a Substantive Charm, while Dean checked it against The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 5; and Parvati and Lavender, who were practicing basic loco-motion charms, were making their pencil cases race each other around the edge of the table. Dinner was a subdued affair that night. Harry and Ron did not talk much, but ate with gusto, having studied hard all day. Hermione, on the other hand, kept putting down her knife and fork and diving under the table for her bag, from which she would seize a book to check some fact or figure. Ron was just telling her that she ought to eat a decent meal or she would not sleep that night, when her fork slid from her limp fingers and landed with a loud tinkle on her plate. - Order of the Phoenix, chapter 31

Another one for “EW FOOD HOW DARE THESE TEENAGERS EAT, DISGUSTING”, and also oh, surprise, Ron actually worked. Incredible. Can you believe. Isn’t he supposed to be lazy. Woah. I totally and utterly did not expect this at all.

Of course I must bring up something else -

“How many hours d’you think you’re doing a day?” he demanded of Harry and Ron as they queued outside Herbology, a manic gleam in his eyes. “I dunno,” said Ron. “A few...” “More or less than eight?” “Less, I s’pose,” said Ron, looking slightly alarmed. “I’m doing eight,” said Ernie, puffing out his chest. “Eight or nine. ‘I’m getting an hour in before breakfast every day. Eight’s my average. I can do ten on a good weekend day. I did nine and a half on Monday. Not so good on Tuesday — only seven and a quarter. Then on Wednesday —” - Order of the Phoenix, chapter 31

Okay first off - Ron estimates his study time to be “a few [hours]”. That’s more than I ever did for my own exams and wouldn’t you know it, I passed them.

Second off: THIS CONVERSATION IS CLEARLY MEANT TO BE HUMOROUS AND YOU’RE SUPPOSED TO HAVE THE SAME REACTION AS RON.

As in “holy shit this guy is insane”.

To top it off, here’s also Harry’s reaction in case some people still care about their hero’s agency:

Harry was deeply thankful that Professor Sprout ushered them into greenhouse three at that point, forcing Ernie to abandon his recital.

Harry isn’t impressed. Harry isn’t awed. Harry isn’t filled with sudden godly inspiration to “ditch Ron and join a study group and become the smartestest in the school!!!”

No, Harry doesn’t care for studying and spending hours bending over a book. Harry would like to pass his exams and then never think about them again.

But the only thing Harry felt he was really good at was Quidditch. In the end, he chose the same new subjects as Ron, feeling that if he was lousy at them, at least he’d have someone friendly to help him. - Chamber of Secrets

Harry wouldn’t have expected Ron to help him had Ron never helped him before. So we can extrapolate that not only does Ron does his homework, but he will also take time and effort to help Harry out if need be.

But of course Harry doesn’t need or care for Ron totally absolutely of course yes. (Another one for the “Harry picks Ron over Hermione” guys!!! Canon is on our side, sorry not sorry!)

...

Also, let it be said:

we live in actual world where hardwork matters only

Hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahah.

Look at Kim Kardashian, at Donald Trump, at basically any billionaire. Did they really do any hard work, or did they build their whole career out of exploitation, cheap scandals and their parents’ already-existing fortune?

In our world, Harry would be rich because Mummy and Daddy left him a trust fund, Hermione would have Mummy and Daddy’s money to help her get by until she can find some dead-end job she hates because the job market is shit, and poor Ron would be stuck in poverty because he was poor to begin with and getting out of poverty is much, much harder than getting rich.

#vivi answers #ask #harry potter critical #hp meta #hp fandumb #harry potter series #ron weasley defense squad #ron weasley defence squad

[tintinwrites]

home | Frankie ‘Catfish’ Morales x Reader

A/N: You wanted that little post I made so here you all are!!

Rating: T

Warning: Established relationship. Naughty words. Light sexual references.

Word count: 1,137, apparently!!

Summary: Frankie is your home. Inspired by this.

GIF credit: ^ Please let me know if you don’t want me using your GIF!

Tags: @writefightandflightclub​ @ezrasarm​ (If you’d like to be added to my Frankie taglist, please let me know!)

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

You’d been living with Frankie for a few months now and the butterflies in you still fluttered with the knowledge that you would be walking into your home with him each time you were off work.

He was usually off work a little bit before you and there was something about coming home to him that made you feel...safe. At ease.

You lived in a tiny apartment, but he made it your home.

He was the love of your life, your place of comfort, the one who always made you laugh, and the most beautiful man you’d ever seen as if the rest of his good qualities weren’t enough.

When you walked in from a day of work where people seemed to not want to get any actual work done, you were ready to pull your favorite wine out of the fridge and drink the bottle.

You paused, however, when you saw Frankie; he was fast asleep on the couch with his hat pulled down over his eyes since the lights were on, mindful of the fact that you might need them on.

It was hard to believe you could love someone as much as you loved him, the way your chest would squeeze with the best kind of hurt you could ask for each time you saw him.

Your quest for wine now mostly forgotten, you dropped your bag and took your shoes off by the door, walking over to practically plop down onto him.

Gently, not wanting to hurt him or anything.

You fit perfectly on his body, probably from a couple of years of laying down on him so many times, but you liked to think it was because you were made for each other. You couldn’t remember believing in that sort of thing before you found him, the one man who you knew would never dare hurt you or break your heart. He was so incredible in your eyes, he had to be made for you, right?

Whether that was true or you were simply two people very much in love with each other, you loved laying down on him; the softness of his belly against yours, your chest pressing into the contours of his, the way you could immediately smell his body wash and the little bit of cologne you’d bought him for his birthday.

He woke up now that you were on top of him just like anyone would unless they were a deep sleeper, and you reached up to push his hat off his eyes.

“Hey, baby. Have fun at work?” He asked sleepily as his arm that was hanging off the couch came up to run his fingers up and down your back.

“I want to quit.” It was said in such a fake joyful voice that Frankie let out a chuckle.

“Then quit.” His other hand lifted and he ran his thumb along your bottom lip.

“What a nice idea.”

He eyed you with a thoughtful smile, sitting up and guiding you into his lap. “I’m serious. You know I make enough for both of us and maybe if you weren’t going crazy at work, you could focus on—”

“Don’t say it.” You shook your head, sliding out of his lap to sit next to him.

“Why not?” All he did was lean forward, leaning his head on your shoulder.

“Because if you say that to me, I’m going to want to quit my job and focus on my passion, and then it might not work out, and then you’re going to have to pay all the bills, and you’re going to hate me—”

Your worries were silenced by Frankie’s lips on yours as he kissed you slowly and sweetly, smiling at your sheepish look when he pulled away from you.

“I don’t care if you decide to lay on the couch all day as long as it’s something that makes you happy. I don’t like you coming home like this.”

“I can’t.”

“Why can’t you?”

“Because I like coming home to you and if I focus on my art then I’m probably going to be home a lot and you’ll be the one coming home to me.”

He smiled widely. “That would be terrible.”

You bumped your arm into his and now you were the one leaning your head on his shoulder. “I could wear a swing dress, and bake you pies, and bring you your slippers, and, oh, I can finally let you meet our secret kids.”

With a raised brow and a smirk he was trying to hide, he played along. “You’ve been hiding my own kids from me? What are their names?”

“Bobby and Mary.”

“These are my kids?”

“They’re definitely not the milkman’s if that’s what you’re thinking.”

He stared at you with a familiar look in his eye that was already making you giggle as you inched away from him. “Frankie, no.”

A scream fell from your lips when he dived for you and pinned you down on the couch, his fingers digging into your ribs.

You giggled and squirmed as he tickled your sides, pushing at his chest and trying to say his name between your laughs, only laughing harder when he pinned you down and nuzzled into your neck; he knew his facial hair always tickled the skin there.

“Okay, okay, I won’t be a Stepford wife!” That made him stop, but the little huff of a laugh he let out against your neck tickled too.

“I want a normal wife, not one that spends the entire day cleaning and pretending that makes her happy.” His lips trailed down to what little bit of your chest was showing in your work clothes.

“You’ll have to make me your wife first.”

“Okay.” That one word was said so sincerely that you looked at him with a soft expression, but he just looked up at you with his chin resting on you, smiling.

You laid there for a little bit, your fingers finding their way into his hair where you gently scratched his scalp. He loved to be scratched pretty much anywhere and he hummed, leaning into your touch.

“I don’t want to cook.”

“Me either.”

“It would be very sexy of you to order a pizza for us.”

“I don’t know what the fuck that means, but okay.”

You sat up as Frankie moved off you, watching him grab his phone to call in an order like he always did rather than using an app.

You watched his lips, listened to him tell the person on the other line all the toppings you wanted, and you smiled as you thought of how willing and logical he was about you quitting work to pursue your real passion.

And you were so happy that he was the man you could call home.

#frankie morales x reader #frankie catfish morales x reader #frankie morales imagine #triple frontier imagine

[prettyyoungandbored]

Becoming Mrs. Wayne [The Dark Knight] Four

Pairing: Christian Bale!Bruce Wayne x OC

Summary: Demetria Gallagher knew her cozy life would change the second she became engaged to Bruce Wayne. But what she doesn’t know is she’s getting more than what she agreed to. (I am trash at summaries.)

Warning: None

Taglist: @dragonballluver (Let me know if you want to be tagged in this!)

Previous

“27 down is ‘falafel.” 

Alfred looked up, shooting a glare at Demetria. Her lips curved into a childish grin. 

“The bloody hell is a falafel?” he asked, unamused at the word. 

“It’s a fried ball made up of chickpeas and beans. It’s actually delicious.” 

He shook his head. “You Americans and your fried food.” He returned his gaze back down to the Gotham City crossword. Demetria snuck another glance at the crosswords, looking for another one she knew right off the bat. 

“14 across is ‘David Cassidy.’” 

The old man shot her another dirty look. She shrugged her shoulders, desperately trying to hold in her laugh. “I’m sorry.” 

Across the yacht, Bruce shifted his attention from the newspaper he was reading and watched the two with an amused smile on his lips. None of the girls he ever brought home acknowledged Alfred (with the obvious exception of Rachel) and if they did it was to ask for something. Demetria had made an effort to get to know and befriend the old man, knowing how much Alfred meant to Bruce. Their friendship and playful banter was something Bruce could get used to for years and years to come. 

Demetria made eyes with Bruce and walked over to him, her white babydoll dress blowing with the wind. She pat his legs, motioning him to scooch over. He obliged and she curled up against him, propped up on his lap.

“You looked a little lonely over here,” she said. 

He smirked. “You pushed Alfred to his breaking point, didn’t you?”

“I forget how seriously that man takes his crossword puzzles.” 

The couple chuckled as Demetria played with Bruce’ slick back hair. The salty aroma filled her nose as the noise of waves crashing against the yacht filled her ears. 

“Feels so good out here,” she sighed. “Definitely one of your better ideas.”

“My better ideas? Since when did I ever have an idea that wasn’t good?”

“The one time you took me to that new restaurant and I got food poisoning.” 

He laughed, the memory coming back to him. She refused to let him see her in such a state, but he came over anyway to make sure she was hydrated and functioning. 

Needless to say, they never went back there and he owed her big time.

Bruce lifted the newspaper up and continued reading, Demetria reading along with him. 

“Anything interesting going on back home?” she asked. 

“Nothing but the usual mobster activity and an editorial piece about the overwhelming amount of Batman copycats.” 

She hummed. “I can’t help but wonder if Batman feels bad about the copycats.”

“I’m sure it gets annoying after awhile.”

“Do you think he feels responsible for them?”

There are times he wants to tell her he’s Batman, but he wants to keep her away from that part of him. He’s been successful so far, why bother bringing her into it now?

Then she changed the subject.

“What’s this?” She pointed at a section of the paper. “‘Witnesses say clown robbed downtown city bank?’”

Bruce took a quick glance at it. “Must be about that bank robbery downtown from yesterday.” He looked over at her to find a disgusted look on her face. “What?”

“I just...clowns...ugh.” She shivered. “Doesn’t sit well with me.”

“You’re afraid of clowns?”

“How could you not be? They’re creepy. Didn’t you ever see ‘It’ or ‘Poltergeist’?”

He chuckled. “They’re not that bad.”

“Well they scare the shit out of me.”

“So I should cancel the clown I hired for our wedding?”

She slapped his arm. “You’re an ass.”

Bruce set down the newspaper. “Speaking of the wedding, I was wondering if you had any ideas or preferences in terms of location?”

She shook her head. “Zero. You?”

He cleared his throat. “I was thinking Wayne Manor.”

Her eyes lit up, a huge smile slapped across her face. “I would love that!”

“Really?” He cocked his head back.

“Yeah! I mean the property is beautiful, plus it’s something that would be comfortable and simple for us.” 

“You’re sure you want to do it at Wayne Manor?” Bruce asked. 

She ran her fingers through his hair. “Babe, we could go to city hall and get it done and I would still be the happiest woman alive. I don’t care how we get married, I just want to be with you.”

While he never needed a reminder of why he loved her, it was times like these that did. He’d never come out and say it, but underneath the wealth and the vanity he used to mask an protect his true self, he valued the simple things that money could never buy. Demetria shared those same values. Both longed for a quiet and intimate life together which was more than enough. 

“I only ask two things,” Demetria said. 

“Anything.” 

“One, we plan this together. This our day, not just mine and not just yours. It’s ours.” 

“Not an issue at all.” 

“Two, this wedding is as small as possible.” 

He wrapped his arms around her. “It’s done deal.” 

As they leaned in for a kiss, the sounds of the helicopter landing drew their attention from each other. They watched as it made a graceful landing. 

“The plan has arrived for you sir!” Alfred called out. 

Demetria pat Bruce’s knee as she got up. “Have fun breaking off this deal in China.” 

Bruce threw off his white shirt, handing it to her.  He grabbed the duffle bag and threw it overboard. 

“Please be careful, Bruce.” 

“For you, I will.”

He gave her a quick kiss before diving into the water. She watched as he swam over to the helicopter before climbing aboard.

She watched as the helicopter flew away before turning to Alfred. 

“What number are we on, Alfred?” 

“Eighteen across. The clue is ‘Get your own bloody crossword.’” 

_____________________________________________________________

A couple days later, Demetria found herself at the entrance to St. Swithin’s Home For Boys. She was grateful the orphanage had taken her call and allowed her to come visit. 

She made her way to front desk area, smoothing out her pants. She smiled at the elderly nun at the desk. 

“Hi, I’m Demetria Gallagher,” she greeted. 

The nun smiled back. “Hello there! We’ve been expecting you! My name is Sister Agatha. You’re here for the tour, correct?” 

“Yes! I was hoping to speak with the Mother Superior or Monsignor O’Malley.” 

“Unfortunately both were unable to make it due to prior commitments; however, they asked that Sister Mary Ellen give you the tour.” 

“Sounds great!”

“Please a seat while I phone her.” 

Demetria sat in the bench across from the desk, eyeing around the orphanage. It’s old age was definitely showing. She made mental notes of the broken down wood, the cracks in the wall, and the lingering dust. Her mother would love a project like this. 

“Miss Gallagher?” 

Demetria looked up to find a nun in her late thirties with kind brown eyes and a welcoming smile. “My name is Sister Mary Ellen. How do you do?” 

“Pleasure to meet you,” Demetria said reaching out her hand. 

Sister Mary Ellen shook it. “A pleasure to meet you as well. We’re so excited you’ve taken an interest in the orphanage.” 

“Bruce has told me so much about this place and I’ve always wanted to come see it for myself.” 

“The Wayne Family is such a big part of the orphanage’s history. Bruce has been so generous to us in the past.” 

Sister Mary Ellen first took her to the library, named in memory of Martha, Bruce’s mother. Despite it’s broken state, the walls were covered in old books stacked in the shelves. 

“Not a lot of boys spend time in here,” Sister Mary Ellen said. “We’ve been trying to get them to, but some are harder to persuade than others.” 

“Understandable,” Demetria assured.

Next was the kitchen, then the chapel, and then some of the dorms. While the building was historic, its structure and the components inside were out of date and almost out of function. 

There were a a good amount of kids staying in and they deserved a better home. 

“May I ask you something?” Sister Mary Ellen questioned. 

“Of course.” 

“There’s been a lot of talk amongst the nuns about what it is you plan to do and I just...well...what is your intention exactly?” 

Demetria chuckled. “It’s ok. I can completely understand the curiosity.” She sighed. “Bruce has always told me how much this place has meant to him, especially after the death of his parents. I know it’s hard for Bruce to give attention to this place and so I wanted to step in and make sure you’re getting not only what you and the boys need, but what you deserve. You all deserve to be living in better conditions and I can guarantee you Bruce agrees with me.” 

“What is it you can do for us?” Sister Mary Ellen asked. 

“My mother works as an interior designer and would be more than happy to help redecorate. I also know a lot of people who can help make sure this place is functioning properly and is up to all health code standards. I want to make sure you all are taken care of and are given the attention you all deserve.” 

Sister Mary Ellen couldn’t help but smile. “What about finances? I know the monsignor and Mother Superior would ask to be kept apprised.” 

“They would be. That’s something I’m currently working on, but I want to know what I’m at least working with here.” She smiled. “Although, my mother would do this for free. I know that for certain.” 

Sister Mary Ellen chuckled. “Let me take you outside.” 

She led Demetria to playground where Demetria noticed four boys playing basketball. She couldn’t help but notice that no matter how hard they tried to dunk the ball in the chain basket, they kept missing. 

“May I?” Demetria asked. 

“By all means.” 

Demetria made her way over to the boys. One boy had black hair with blue eyes, another was African-American with glasses, another boy had blonde hair and freckles, and one with brown hair with glasses.   

“Hey guys!” Demetria greeted.

The boys stopped and looked at her. “You guys playing basketball?” 

They looked at each other, confused and unsure what to say. She cleared her throat. “My name’s Demetria.” 

“I’m Travis,” the boy with black hair said. 

“I’m Jonathan,” the African-American boy said. 

“I’m Reid,” the boy with blonde hair said. 

“I’m Harry,” the boy with brown hair said. 

“Nice to meet you all,” Demetria said. “So what are we playing here? One-on-one or Horse?”

“Just some one-on-one,” Reid answered with a shrug. 

“You know how to play?” Harry asked. 

“A little. My dad was a high school basketball coach so he taught me a few things. Can I see the ball?” 

Travis passed her the ball. She dribbled it for a bit before shooting the ball into the basket. The boys stared in amazement, letting out some “whoa”s. 

“Alright, so who wants to be able to dunk a ball?” she asked. 

They all raised their hands. “That’s exactly what I thought. Ok so watch my hands.” 

She picked up the ball and demonstrated the throw with her hand. “See the way my hand curves, like I’m flicking my wrist? Try that.” 

Reid took the ball first. He dribbled the ball before throwing it up. The ball went through the basket. The boys cheered. 

“See? That was awesome!” Demetria said. She held up her hand for a high five which he reciprocated. “Alright, who’s next?” 

Harry went up and threw the ball, making it into the basket. 

“Way to go dude!” Demetria cheered, the two high diving. “Who’s next?” 

Jonathan went up and threw the ball, the ball circling the basket before falling off. Demetria caught it and threw it back to him, seeing the dejected look on his face. 

“You almost got it. Try again.” She smiled at him. 

He gave her a nod. He tossed the ball up, this time the ball landing into the basket. The boys and Demetria cheered. 

“See! You got it!” she said. 

They high fived and Jonathan passed the ball to Travis. Travis dribbled before the ball hit the back of the basket. The ball came back toward him as he caught it, tossed it again and then tossed the ball inside the basket. 

The other boys and Demetria cheered. 

“Ok, ok,” Demetria said. “Now you guys trying playing.” 

The boys then began playing one-on-one, Demetria coaching them and cheering them on. She couldn't help but feel her dad would be proud of her. Sure, she wasn’t an athlete, but she learned a lot from watching him coach from the sidelines all these years. 

She then saw Reid pass the ball to her. “Your turn,” he told her. 

She smiled. “Alright.” 

She dribbled the ball before tossing it into the basket. She grabbed the ball and said, “Who’s next?”

“What’s going on here?” 

Demetria turned around to see Bruce walking over. Her smile grew. “Just playing some basketball.” 

She watched as the boys’ eyes stayed on Bruce, wide in amazement and wonder. He acknowledged them with a warm smile before gazing at Demetria. 

“Tell me, boys, how she doing?” he asked. 

The responded, each voice overlapping the other. 

“She’s pretty good.” 

“She’s good.” 

“Pretty good.”

“Good.”

Demetria tossed the ball to Bruce as he caught it in his hands. “Let’s see you’ve got, Wayne,” she challenged playfully. 

“Those are fighting words,” he responded, dribbling the ball a bit. 

He turned his back to her and tossed the ball as it went into the basket. The boys cheered and clapped as Bruce turned to her, throwing his hands up. 

She folded her arms across her chest. “It was just a lucky shot.” 

Bruce looked over to one of the boys. “Can I have the ball, please?” They tossed him the ball. He showed it to Demetria. “Why don’t you try and steal it, Gallagher?” 

Demetria went over to him as he lifted the ball from her. She jumped, spiking it from his hands. Jonathan caught it and tossed it back to her. She went to shoot it into the basket when Bruce spiked it out of her her hand and picked her up swinging her around. 

“Are you kidding me?! I almost had it!” Demetria screamed. 

It was then something caught her eye. A figure watching them from across the street. 

“Hold on, hold on,” she told Bruce. 

He stopped, eyebrows furrowed. “What’s wrong?” 

“Give me a sec. I think I see something.” 

She walked toward the gate, getting a closer look at the figure. It was a caucasian male with a black baseball cap that said ‘Gotham Times’ on it and a tee and jeans with a bulky vest. Across his neck, a camera. 

“What the hell are you doing?” she called out to him. “There’s kids here!” 

The man reached up to his camera as she continued to get closer. 

“Stop it!” she growled. “Stop!

Bruce rushed over to her, pulling her away. “Demetria, don’t.”

She turned to him. “He’s photographing the kids! He can’t be doing that!” 

“Listen, we’ll take care of this when we get home,” he told her. “Right now, just ignore him. The more you go after him, the worse it’s going to be.” 

She ran a hand through her hair. “There has to be a line drawn, Bruce.” 

“We’ll take care of it home, alright?” 

She nodded her head. “I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t be.” He kissed her forehead. “You were protecting the kids. It’s gonna be ok. We’ll fix this.” 

He rubbed her arms. “Let’s go back, ok?” 

“Ok.” 

She took one more look at the photographer before walking away. Bruce had a point, they were going to take care of it. 

She was going to take care of it. 

#bruce wayne x oc #bruce wayne imagine #batman #batman imagine #batman fanfic #the dark knight #the dark knight fanfiction #the joker #christian bale

[kyber-kisses]

What About Y/N?

Dean Winchester x Reader

Warnings: spoilers for season 14, blushy Dean, idk my dudes

Summary: When John is yanked into the future he sees that his oldest Son still hasn’t made a move on y/n.

A/n: this has been swimming around in my head for awhile so I’m finally writing it. I hope you guys like it! If you wanted to be added to the forever taglist, just hit me up.

When you returned to the bunker after a rare solo hunt, you had no idea what insanity you were about to walk in on. The only thing you were looking forward to was a much needed hot shower, a decent meal, and maybe enough time to get through an episode of Game of Thrones with Dean. But that was a long shot even.

Parking your car in the garage, you took your time gathering your things and walking down the hallway towards your room. Throwing your duffel onto your bed, you stripped the dirt and blood stained clothes from your body. Dean and Sam could wait. The hot shower was your top priority right now.

You knew you had made the right choice, ten minutes later stepping out of the shower and feeling like an entirely new person. And fresh clothes only made it that much better. Wrapping a towel around your hair, you ventured out of your room towards the library. It was good to be back. It was good to be home.

“Sam! Dean! I’m back from that Wraith hunt in Washington!” You announced, ascending the stairs into the library, busying yourself by rubbing the towel through your hair in an attempt to dry it quicker.

The brothers had been so per-occupied by the event unraveling in front of them that they failed to remember you would be returning tonight. Your voice sending them turning in unison to face you, revealing the figure partly hidden behind them.

And then things got weird.

You were stopped dead in your tracks at the sight of one John Winchester, standing very much alive between his two sons. Meanwhile your towel was still pressed against your hair.

“What- the- hell is happening?” You stated slowly, eyes darting between the brothers. Dean shot you a smile, beaming at the sight of you.

“Hey y/n! Our Dads back!” Dean grinned, bringing up the obvious. You dropped the towel, eyes still wide as you nodded slowly.

“Yeah.” You breathed out, “ I can see that.” You put your hand up in a half wave at their father, still trying to steady your breathing. “ Hey, John. How’s it going?” You tried, still looking very confused.

You were one of the very few that had been in the Winchesters lives long enough to have known John, hell, you met them when you were in your pre-teens. The point was, John knew who you were and you knew who he was.

John let out a light laugh, an amused look on his face. “ I’m doing alright y/n. Thanks for asking. Apparently it’s been awhile.”

You locked eyes with Dean again, silently asking for a explanation. “Yeah, you could say that.” Dean could see that you were dying for an answer so he quickly stepped forward.

“Y/n, I was just gonna go out to grab stuff for dinner, you wanna tag along?” He asked, grabbing his jacket off the nearest table along with the set of keys for Baby.

“Uh yeah- sure.” Your words coming out slow as you had trouble taking your eyes away from their father. This was too weird.

As Dean stepped down the stairs, you quickly forced your body into motion, following him down the hallway. Once you knew you were out of earshot you turned to your best friend.

“Okay, mind telling me what I just walked in on?” You asked, looking over at Dean who, if you were being honest, who looked happier than you had seen him in a very long time. A huge smile on his face as he looked over at you.

“I’ll explain on the way. Long story short, Sam and I found a pearl that can give you what you want most in the world- or something. One minute there was nothing and then all of a sudden, BOOM. Dads standing there with a shot gun pointed at the two of us.”

“Well that definitely sounds like your dad.” You nodded, sliding into the passenger seat of the Impala.

Over the next hour Dean filled your in on the entirety of the story. From the odd wishing pearl to the fact that it wasn’t a permanent thing. While John was here, time would continue to warp and change. They would have to reverse the wish after dinner. You could see the sadness in Deans eyes as he told you, and you wanted nothing more than to be able to fix it for him.

When you returned to the bunker, you helped Dean unload everything from the car, pausing mid way to the kitchen. Dean stopped when he saw you frozen in the hallway, adjusting the groceries in his arm as he walked back over to you. “ you alright?”

You let out a sigh, giving the green eyed hunter as small, faint smile. “ Dean, I shouldn’t be here.”

Dean let out a huff, giving you a confused look. “what the hell are you talking about?”

“This is a family thing Dean. You always talked about wanting this. I’m not going to intrude. I’ll just go back into town for the night.” You shrugged. Moving past him, you stepped into the kitchen, setting the groceries on the table.

“Okay, first of all-“ Dean corrected you, moving to set his own bags down next to yours. “ You are family and second, I want you here. You’re my best friend.” He turned to look over at you, a smile lighting up his face.

Oof. There it was again. That one little title that had you so conflicted. Of course Dean was your best friend as well, but you also wanted something more than that. And you were sure Dean didn’t feel that way about you. “Are you sure? What if they don’t want me here?” You questioned.

Dean gave you another annoyed look before turning to unpack the groceries. “ are you kidding me? My mom loved you from the moment I introduced her to you and my dad? Even though he would never admit it, he thought of you as his other kid.” He chuckled. “So in conclusion. Your staying and that’s final. Got it?”

“Alright fine.” You exhaled, smiling over at the older Winchester. It was good to see him happy.

*. *. *. *.

And that’s how you found yourself seated down at one of the library tables, wine glass in hand as you watched Sam and Dean retell an old story about how the three of you had to go digging through a pond when Dean lost the keys to the impala during a wraith hunt a few months back.

You smiled into your wine glass as Dean rolled his eyes. Another memory came to your mind, making you slap Dean in the shoulder. “You gotta tell em the story about the fairy!”

Dean whipped his head around to glare at you, wide eyed. “ I’m not telling the fairy story y/n.”

“I’m sorry- fairy story?” John questioned, leaning forward with a raised eyebrow and a light smirk.

“Oh yeah. It’s one of Deans greatest victories.” You nodded, a grin appearing on your face as you took another sip of wine. “ He fought a fairy.” You swiveled your head, sending Dean your growing grin.

“I haven't heard this one either. Now I’m interested.” Mary laughed, leaning forward in her chair and resting her chin on her palm as she looked to her eldest son.

Without much choice, Dean groaned, diving into the story about how he was abducted by aliens and then forced to fight a fairy. The whole time you were trying to keep a straight face, but with everyone else laughing it was terribly difficult.

“It was a little glowing, hot naked lady.” Dean sighed, looking down at his hands which were folded in his lap.

“And then what happened Dean?” You smiled, trying even harder now to hold in your laughs.

“And- and she hit me.” He mumbled in defeat, sending you back into a full fit of laughter along with everyone else at the table. You were laughing so hard tears were streaming down your face as you grabbed your stomach. The rest of the Winchesters not far behind you.

“Oh god, I’m gonna pass out.” You heaved,looking back over at Dean who was shaking his head, only this time he had a small smile on his face.

“Okay get your laughs out.” He sighed.

“Oh, we are.” You laughed again, wiping away the tears on your face. You looked over at Dean, eyes locking almost immediately. You gave him another smile, silently apologizing for teasing him. The smile was returned, which made your heartbeat quicken.

You didn’t see it, neither did Dean, but for a good portion of dinner John was watching the two of you, smirking at the playful and childlike banter between you. Sam and Mary had noticed it too, but they were used to it. You and Dean dancing around each other , both afraid to make the first move.

It reminded John of him and Mary way back when. When times were simpler. Just two young idiots very much in love.

As dinner finished up, you helped clear off the table, you and Dean maneuvering around each other in perfect sync. It was interesting to watch to say the least.

As Dean left with the last of the dishes, heading towards the kitchen, your eyes settled on John, who was leaning against one of the pillars in the library.

You ventured over, tucking your hands into the pocket of your sweatshirt. “ Is it weird? Seeing how much they have changed?” You questioned.

John turned to you, letting out a breath. “ it’s definitely weird, but I can still see somethings haven’t changed.”

You tilted your head, wondering what on earth he was referring to. Shaking it off you sighed, “ you should be proud of them. They have helped a lot of people and they’re easily the greatest men I have ever had the joy of knowing.”

“I am proud of them. Hell, I got no words to express how proud I am of those two. I mean, Dean is still stubborn as hell-“

You let out a laugh, turning your head towards the kitchen.” Yeah, and I don’t think that’s going away any time soon.” You agreed, also realizing there was still work to be done. “I should probably go help in the kitchen.” You ended, giving John a nod before walking away.

You passed Dean in the hallway, who sent you another smile and gave your shoulder a squeeze as he entered the library.

Once John knew you were out of earshot, he turned to Dean, raising an eyebrow. “ I can see you still haven’t told y/n how you feel?” He smirked.

“Is it really that obvious?” Dean sighed, dragging a hand down his face as he fell into one of the chairs. John sitting down across from him.

“Yeah, Son. It’s still insanely obvious.” John laughed, picking up his glass of whiskey. “ I just feel bad for Sam, having to go all these years watching you two dance around each other like a couple of kids.”

Dean let out a defeated laugh. “How do I know if she even feels that way about me?”

John rolled his eyes, leaning forward. “ You two really are blind arn’t you? Just tell the girl. You’ll be fine Dean.”

“How do you know that? Y/n is a loose canon, you never know what you are gonna get with her!” He exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air before letting them run down his face again.

“Just trust me on this.” John sighed, still mildly amused by how his eldest was reacting.

Dean was quick to lean forward, pointing his finger at his father. “Alright, but if this goes wrong, I’m blaming you.”

*. *. *. *. *.

This was not how you expected your night to go when you initially got home. You thought it would just be another night of microwaving takeout and watching some dumb show with Dean. And then you got the exact opposite. A full home cooked meal, a night of laughter, and a very happy Dean Winchester. Your heart was fucking full.

But slowly as the night came to a close, you could see Dean starting to sink, the inevitable goodbye he would have to give to his father drawing ever closer.

You eventually found yourself perched on one of the tables, the jade eyed hunter by your side. Mary and John were having one final discussion together, and Sam was leaning against one of the pillars in the library, clearly lost in his thoughts.

Turning your head, you looked over at Dean, a small sympathetic smile tugging on your lips. He looked so sad, and it broke your heart. Carefully you reached over, intertwining your fingers with his and leaning against his shoulder.

“It’s gonna be okay Dean.” You sighed, feeling his hand squeeze yours. You were keeping him grounded through this whole thing. Keeping him sane. He was grateful to have you in his life.

“I know- I just- I’m tired of saying goodbye to people.” He mumbled, going to rest his head against yours.

“Well I’m not going anywhere- you’re stuck with me till the end Winchester.”

“Good. I wouldn’t want it any other way.” He agreed with a light chuckle, eyes falling towards your intertwined hands.

It was unusual, he didn’t think anything of it at first, but now? He was only just realizing that you had never held his hand before. Sure there was the I’m grabbing your hand and pulling you with me while we run from this monster sort of hand holding, but this was different. This was gentle and loving.

You watched as his eyes stayed locked in your hands, slightly amused by how intrigued he looked by it. You smiled, taking your free hand and placing it on his face, before pressing a sweet and firm kiss to his cheek. The action surprising the both of you slightly.

And then something happened, that you never expected to see in a million years. A warm red bloomed across his face, his eyes quickly looking away. He was blushing. Dean Winchester, your best friend since childhood was blushing, turning into a rosy faced mess.

And it was fucking adorable.

The two of you out so caught up in the moment that you failed to notice the grinning Winchesters in the doorway.

*. *. *. *. *.

“You keep these boys out of trouble for me, you got that?” John grinned, pulling you in for one last hug.

You let out a light laugh, stepping back. “I don’t think the strongest power on earth could do that. But I’ll try.”

Moving back, you watched as one by one said their final goodbyes. The pearl that caused this all to happen, sitting ominously on the table next to you. Dean stepped forward, his father pulling him into a bone crushing embrace.

“She adores you, you know.” John stated slowly, low enough that you couldn’t hear it. “I can see it in the way she looks at you. So can Mary.”

The beginnings of what could only be a smile tugged on the corners of Deans lips as he slightly nodded. Yet at the same time he looked pained. Too much was going and he didn’t want to lose his Dad again.

“If you love her, tell her. Even if your scared it’s not the right thing. Even if your scared it will burn your life to the ground, you say it, and you say it loud. You got that, Dean?” John continued, grabbing Deans shoulder and pulling into another crushing hug.

All Dean could do was nod. His dad was right. You never knew how this life would play out- when your time was up. Life was too short to wait in fear.

“Now let’s get this show on the road.” John chuckled, pulling back with glossy eyes that matched everyone else’s.

You watched with a sad smile as the Winchester family collapsed into one last group hug. They all looked so terribly sad, but happy at the same tile that they got this at all.

“Get in here y/n. You’re our damn family too.” Before you could register it, you were being pulled into a massive Winchester sandwich, nestled snugly under Deans arm.

This was nice. To have a family. To have people who loved you. To have a home.

It took the strength of all of you combined to pull away from each other, Dean stepping back to the place where the pearl lay. Mary remained next to her husband, their hands wound tightly together.

You could see Deans own hand shaking as he picked up the bowl to smash the pearl. He was breaking. Doing what you could, you reached out taking his empty hand in yours once again. He looked down in surprise, before going up to meet your eyes in understanding.

“It’s Okay. I got you.” You assured him. He slowly nodded, showing you he understood.

You looked back towards John, who sent you and Dean both a wide smile. Who knew your lives could so quickly change in matter of hours.

And then Dean brought the bottom of the bowl down hard on the pearl, shattering it in one go.

You felt Dean slightly jump in pain besides you, his hand gripping yours tighter as he ignored the tears freely rolling down his face, eyes frozen on the spot where John had been standing just seconds prior.

You could tell he was heartbroken. Shifting the bowl from his grasp, you wound your arms around him, pulling him into you. “It’s alright. I got you. I got you.” You repeated, running your hand up and down his back in an attempt to help calm him. Though delayed, he moved to wrap his arms around you, chin coming to rest on your shoulder as he sank.

“Thank you.” He mumbled, attempt to regain his breathing.

Everything was going to be alright. He was gonna make sure of that.

(A/N: Tell me what you guys thought! this things been sitting in my drafts for ages and I finally finished it. If it gets enough notes ill write a second part.)

#supernatural #dean winchester #dean x y/n #dean x reader #dean winchester one shot #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester imagine #spn x reader #spn x y/n #spn one shot #supernatural x reader #bi-danvers writing

[buckyscrystalqueen]

Fresh Start: Part 5

Pairings: Bucky x Reader, Cop!Bucky x Reader

Warnings: Swearing.

Word Count: 2,953

A/N: Got the idea for this one while watching ‘The Town’.

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Why is this necessary?” You asked as you walked up the driveway at the Winchester’s house.

“Because I said so.” Bucky sighed as he pushed the doorbell. You looked over at him with one, final annoyed huff before hiking Jess up on your hip and smiling at the opening door. “I convinced her.” Bucky chuckled as he held out the bag of burger meat, buns, and various bag of chips you had picked up that morning when you picked up holiday decorations and decorations for the house. You had no idea how ‘thank you cookies’ had turned into ‘thank you barbecue and pool party’ but apparently that’s what was happening. “This is my fiancé, (Y/N), and our daughter, Jess.”

“Nice to meet you, (Y/N). Come in, come in. Mary’s just getting Sam and Dean up from a nap.”

“We brought food.” You said, not knowing what else to really say as Jess whined and tried to hide.

“Here, I got it.” John said with a nod as he took the bag from you as you walked past a giant play room that looked like a former formal dining room on your left. “There’s a bathroom down that hall over there, only door on the left if you need to change. It goes straight out to the pool. There’s swim diapers in there for Sam that should fit Jess…”

“Oh, no thank you.” You said as you gave up trying to keep your daughter on your hip and let her straddle your stomach to hide in your throat. “We have a pool, too so we have them.”

“You’re lucky.” He said with a nod as he lead you guys past the kitchen that backed the play room and out to the quaint patio. “Pools are hard to come by here. Beer?”

“Yea, two please.” Bucky chimed in as he set your diaper bag down on the bar that ran along a pass through window to the kitchen. You looked back and moved out of the way as the older of the Winchester boys ran past you and jumped into the pool as fast as he could.

“Dean!” A woman yelled as she walked out on to the patio slowly with Sam’s hand in hers. “Apologize. That was rude.”

“Oh, he’s fine.” You said with a shake of your head as you took your beer from Bucky. “If his biggest issue is he ran past some strangers and jumped in his pool, he’s doing pretty damn good. (Y/N).”

“Mary.” She said with a nod as she shook your hand. “And Sam.”

“When she’s done hiding, this is Jess. Who’s missing out on new friends by hiding.” You tried as you kissed the side of her head. “But she’ll get over it.”

“Well I don’t know about you.” Mary said as she gestured to the pool behind you. “But I’m gettin in. It’s hot.”

“Hot!” Sam repeated as he pulled on his mother’s hand.

“Yea, we’re going.” Mary chuckled as Jess picked her head up to find where the little boy’s voice was. 

“You wanna go play with Sam?” You asked her before taking a sip of your drink and putting it down on the bar by your bag. “You can’t be shy. Man up, little girl. Show these boys you ain’t no pussy.”

“(Y/N)!” Bucky hissed as he flicked your arm. You looked over at him and the giant shit-eating grin John had on his face.

“What? You want her to be a little pussy?”

“You are killing me.” He sighed as you sat down in one of the chairs and took off the dress you had on over Jess’ swim diaper and bathing suit. “You’re really killing me.”

“You love it.” You smiled up at him as you set your daughter down long enough to take off your tank top and shorts.

“Up.” Jess whined as she tried to climb up your leg.

“I know, come on.” You said as you picked her up to go swimming with Mary and the boys.

“So I have water wings and rings galore.” Mary said as you walked down the stairs. “Dean tends to dive through the rings and pops them so we buy them by the case load. And neither of the boys like water wings.”

“Yea… my Ma just chucked us in the community pool.” You giggled as you put Jess in a ring that had a plastic bottom for her to sit on. “You either swam or you were drowning.”

“That’s how we learned, too.”

“I tried to do it with Jess.” You sighed as you looked over at your new friend. “But my lovely fiancé threatened to make me sleep on the couch if I did so she doesn’t know how to swim yet.”

“Really? John was the exact opposite. He practically threw Dean into the pool like a football as I screamed from the kitchen.” You nodded your head and shrugged as you gently pushed Jess toward Sam and his float.

“Yea, I’m not the sensitive one in our relationship. I was raised on the mean streets of Brooklyn, New York by the boys in my neighborhood. I was the only girl my age for like three blocks. And that just kinda stuck. So I don’t coddle. That’s James’ job. I got lucky with that one, too.”

“Isn’t it funny how that always works?” She giggled as she leaned to the side so Dean could get out to jump in again. “You always end up finding the exactly right person to compliment us in the end.”

“True.” You said with a nod as you looked back over your shoulder at the man that literally changed your life in so many ways. “So very true.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I feel so naked.” You sighed as you scratched at your throat where your five gold necklaces usually sat. “’s’not right.”

“Stop scratching, baby.” Bucky said sweetly as he sat down beside you on the couch with a pad of paper in his hands. “All right. Let’s start with the most basic. Hair color.” You groaned and let your head fall back so that your currently wet bottle blonde hair fell back over the side of the couch.

“Why ya gotta go afta the hair?” You asked as you ran your fingers through it for a half second before forcing yourself to stop. You hadn’t before realized you did that at least fifty times an hour, and you were going to try to break that habit with your new personality.

“You can stay blonde.” He said as he wrote other ideas down to help you figure out who you wanted to be. “Or you can let it grow out. It’s up to you.” You sighed loudly and met his eyes before covering your face with your hand.

“Don’t look at me.”

“Hand down.” He said as he reached out to push your hand away from your face, which you were hiding because you didn’t put any ‘hooker make-up’ on for this conversation. You simply had a little bit of eyeliner and some mascara and that was all. “You are gorgeous and you know it as well as I do.”

“Besides the point.” You muttered as you went to run your hands in your hair again before dropping it on the couch cushions beside you and shoving your hands under your thighs. “I feel naked.”

“So we’ll come back to hair color.” Bucky said as he put a question mark beside the idea. “And we need to go shopping for new eyeshadows in natural colors for the make-up part?” You nodded your head because you knew that the blue you loved to wear wasn’t really a respectable color to wear every day. “Alright then. So I found a nice online cooking class on Groupon. Six months, twice a week. They shoot prerecorded videos and post them to the website so you can learn as slowly as you want and watch them as many times as you want as well. And there’s a baking one as well thats the same thing, but once a week for six months that I can sign you up for, too. So you can learn how to cook at your own pace.”

“I’m gunna burn the house down.”

“No you’re not, because I will be right there with a fire extinguisher.” He commented as he drew a line through something else on his list. “So that takes care of cooking. Next is job.”

“I can’t do…”

“Stop.” He interrupted as he looked over at you with a smile and grabbed his phone. “Let’s think about what you can do. Realistically. You are amazing at basic math. You said it yourself that you were good at weighing out weed.”

“So what, become a drug dealer again?” You asked before looking down at the webpage he was showing you.

“Medical Marijuana. They are looking for an assistant manager AND before you start in on not being able to do it, they teach you step by step, to make sure you know the job before letting you go out into the real world and manage their store. So you will be dealing with something you know, and doing a job that is easy. And the best part is, Mary is the owner and manager. So that’s a bonus. She’s looking forward to seeing your application, which I will help you with since I know you’ve never filled one out. Which leads to my next thing, clothes. 

If this is the route you wanna take, you can still wear your necklaces, your earrings, the bracelets and the rings. All of that. You can keep the blonde hair, you can go natural, you could even dye it purple if you wanted to. But your hem lines need to change. Jeans and shirts that cover your bra’s completely. Only a little bit of cleavage. Shorts have to completely cover your ass. Don’t give me that look. I’m trying to help you here and you know it. I’d suggest sneakers and flip flops as well. Your heels won’t be fun. But you will have to remember that you are NOT a Townie in that environment. It won’t be easy.”

“What about Jess?”

“Jessie can go to day care.” He said as he set his pad of paper down on his knee. “There’s a really good one just down the road and she will be just fine. And if none of this sounds like a good idea to you, and you wanna just be a stay at home mom, you can. I should be hearing back about that mechanic’s job today or tomorrow and I’m confident I’ll get it. With that and what we have saved from selling all your cars, my car, and my bike. All the cash you had stored in your mattress at home, all the stuff we took from your brothers place, all the furniture we sold… all that money is just building up interest in a bank. We could live off just that comfortably for two years. At the end of the day though, doll, you are the one that said you wanted to grow up. Now I will stand by you one way or another no matter what you wanna do. So you think about it.”

“Why is this so hard?” You asked as you threw your hands up in the air.

“Because your brother and I coddled you too much, sweetheart.” He said as he tossed his notebook on the table and got up to check on Jess to see if she was still napping and grab you a joint from the dwindling stash you had upstairs. “All because we loved you.”

“No, you just loved that I mulled drugs the best.” You grumbled as you sat forward to grab his notebook to look at his list again. “The boobs and all.” You didn’t even stop yourself from running your fingers through your hair again as you looked at the list of things to change to make you more of an adult. It was all terrifying and yet, you wanted it. “You’ll still love me, right?” You asked your fiancé as you looked over at him as he walked down stairs. “If I do this… if I become this person for you, for us?”

“(Y/N), I will always, always love you. Because I know the person inside of you. The woman that I fell in love with, the mother of our daughter, that’s the woman I love. What the outside looks like doesn’t matter to me. I just know that you will have an easier time with this if you don’t try to fit the Townie into Vegas and instead fit the Vegas into the Townie.”

“That makes no sense.” You huffed as he lit the joint and passed it over to you.

“Then look at it this way. You love drug dealer me, cop me, and mechanic me. You love me no matter what I look like on the outside. Long hair, short hair, and baggy shirts to tight ones. I feel the same way. And this is all up to you, doll. Like I said, you can stay home…”

“I wanna change.” You said with a nod as you looked at the ember at the end of your joint. “I need to or I can’t let go.”

“OK.” Bucky breathed as he reached out and squeezed your leg. “Then we’ll do it together. Always.”

——

You were reorganizing your closet and putting your more ‘slutty’ tops in a box to stash away before your first day at work, when you stumbled upon a box you forgot you had shoved on the top shelf of your closet. You smiled to yourself, and picked up the first photo on one of the two stacks in Jessica’s baby box.

“God, you were so tiny, little girl.” You said to yourself as you looked at the tiny new born laying on your chest in the hospital. You set it back in the box and flipped off the closet light on your way downstairs to show your fiancé. He was laying on one side of the couch with Jess sleeping on his chest while he watched the Yankee’s game on TV. “I’m interrupting your shit team.” You said softly as you simply climbed over the back of the couch beside him. “It’s worth it.”

“Don’t do it.” Bucky growled lowly as you grabbed the remote before he could and muted the TV. “Yankee hating bitch.”

“Look.” You said as you set the box on your lap and showed him the first photo with a smile. He sat up the slightest bit since he had never seen these photos.

“Oh, my God. Look at her.” He whispered as he put his hand on Jessie’s back so she didn’t slip when he sat up. “She was so tiny.”

“Six pounds, two ounces.” You said with a nod as you picked up that stack and handed it to him. “Eighteen inches long. Born August 14 at 7:38 PM. Born at 38 weeks and two days.”

“You should have gone through these before we came here.” He said as he showed you a photo of Thor holding Jessie on your old couch in your old apartment.

“I only kept three with him in it.” You said as you leaned against his side to look at the photos as well. “When she’s old enough, she deserves to know the truth about him… about us. She has that right.”

“We’ll see.” He said with a small nod as he continued to look through the pictures while you picked up the other stack.

“I was always surprised at how small she was.” You sighed as you looked at the out of order stack of your pregnancy. “I looked like a damn balloon.” Bucky glanced over at the picture of you at a barbecue at your brother’s you were holding and did a double take.

“Holy shit. Damn, you are so fucking hot.”

“Stop that.” You said as you pushed his jaw with your fingertip. “That was about a week before she was born.”

“I hate that I missed it.” He said as he looked at the photo of Jess’ first bath. “All of it.”

“You had about as much of a choice about it as I did, sweetheart.” You reminded him. “Holy shit, look at this one.” You giggled as you showed him a photo of the two of you on the night you got engaged. “Your hair was so long. I miss it.”

“Maybe I’ll grow it back out for you.”

“The beard, too.” You said with a side eyed glance. “Fuck I love that beard.”

“The beard is a pain in the ass.” He sighed as he looked at a photo of Jess sleeping on Dakota.

“Yea, but that beard between my thighs felt amazing.” You said as you flipped through the stack in your hands to try and get them organized. Bucky grunted and dropped the photo in his fingers as the fabric of his basketball shorts visibly twitched. “Oh, look at this one…”

“OK, memory lane is closed right now.” He said as he picked up the stack of photos beside him and put them back in the box. “You, upstairs, now.”

“Damn… is it that easy?“ You teased as he got up to put Jess to bed.

“Yes, I’m that easy. Come on, Dakota.” With a small giggle, you put the rest of the photos in the box and left it on the coffee table before turning off the TV and jumping back over the couch to go to bed with your fiancé.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #fresh start #cop!bucky x reader

[what-is-your-plan-today]

Riding On Ch9: A Labour of Love

Summary: Fliss and Frank receive some news from Boston and Bean’s due date, arrives…and passes, with no sign of him making his bid for freedom just yet. Fliss is frustrated and poor Frank doesn’t know what to do for the best. 

Warnings: Bad Language words. Smut (NSFW, NO UNDER 18s!).

Pairing: Frank Adler x Fliss Gallagher

A/N:  Bean is just not playing ball, is he? As always, I hope you enjoy and I love reading all your thoughts. Chapter Song: Beautiful Day by U2 

Series Masterlist //  WIYPT Masterlist

Touch me, take me to that other place. Teach me, I know I’m not a hopeless case.

 August 2019  

The alarm had become a bit of a pointless feature in the Gallagher-Adler household, certainly over the last 2 weeks or so. As Fliss headed into the final throes of her pregnancy, her sleep patterns were all over the place. So it was no surprise to Frank that he felt her climbing out of bed at little past 5 am. Blinking sleepily he made a noise of protest because, after all, it was a Saturday, and she chuckled and leaned over to gently kiss his head.

“Stay here.” she instructed, “I’ll be fine.” He wasn’t going to listen, he really wasn’t but his eyes dropped shut of their own accord. When they opened again it was almost 10 and he gave a start, because Fliss was due to leave in little over an hour. She was off for a Pre-Baby pamper session with Verity, Roberta and Sian, which included a manicure, pedicure, haircut, facial and fuck knows what else. To be honest, Frank had zoned out when she'd reeled off the list of treatments last night over dinner and just nodded in all the right places because he wasn't interested if all truth be told. As long as she enjoyed herself. With that in mind, he jumped up and after a quick shower he headed downstairs.

“Why didn’t you wake me?” he asked as he wandered into the back of the house. Fliss, who was stood by the bay window seat, her eyes roving over the garden, didn’t answer.

“Lissy?” He spoke again and she jumped slightly and turned to face him as he chuckled and crossed the room to give her a kiss. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you. Where’s Mary?”

“She went up to the stables for a lesson with Joanne before it gets too hot.” She replied, taking the peck he offered with a tight smile. Her voice was flat, emotionless and her entire demeanour unnerved him a little as he prided himself on normally being able to read her very well but at that moment he really couldn’t get a lock on her at all.

“Baby, what’s wrong?”

 “I had a message from Boston Police…about John.”

Frank made an angry noise in his throat “What about him?”

She looked at him and Frank felt his mind whirring about what there was left that the ass hole could possibly put her through. He was inside, for a long time and he wouldn’t be getting parole this time round either but when she answered, he hadn’t been expecting her to drop the news she did.

“He’s dead.” Fliss said flatly as she looked at Frank. His face contorted into a frown as he looked at her.

“Dead?”

She nodded “Apparently got in a fight with another prisoner and it got a bit nasty. He was stabbed and…” she swallowed “Bled out. Nothing they could do.” Frank watched her carefully as she was clearly pondering something. He wasn’t sure how she was going to be feeling here. She had been married to him after all but, well, Frank was struggling to feel anything other than a sickening sense of satisfaction. If anyone deserved to die it was that fucker.

“You ok?” he asked her as he stepped towards her and pulled her into a hug.

“Yeah. I feel nothing.” she said simply, pulling back to look at him. “Absolutely nothing. I’m not happy he’s dead but I don’t care he is, either, and I’m certainly not upset about it.” She paused, biting her lip “Does that make me a bad person?”

“Bad?” Frank spluttered “Fuck, no honey, of course not” She let out a sigh as he pressed a kiss to the top of her head as she snuggled her face into his chest.  “If you think feeling nothing makes you bad then me feeling what I do means I’m going straight to hell.” Frank moved and tilted her face to look at him with his finger a thumb gently holding her chin “He was a nasty, vile bastard Lissy, and he put you through so much, not to mention nearly fucking killing you less than a year ago. If anything you have a right to be throwing a damned party now.”

“Not sure you’d find many places with Congratulations Your Piece Of Shit, Wife-Beating Ex-Husband Is Dead banners or balloons.” she quipped.

“The internet is dark and full of terrors.” Frank smiled back and Fliss snorted at the Game of Thrones reference “Never underestimate it.”

She stayed silent for a moment before she pulled back and looked up at him. “You know what else I will never underestimate?” she asked, and Frank was pleased to note that familiar shine had returned to her face and eyes and he arched an eyebrow. “The power of a back massage.”

Frank smiled “Good job you’re heading off for one then isn’t it.”

“Hmmmm…” she teased, her hands tracing his chest through his t-shirt. “Thing is, unlike your back rubs this one won’t have a happy ending.” “It better fucking not do.” He shot back and she grinned.

“I should go get ready.”

“Ok, you want any breakfast before you go?” he asked and she smiled

“We ate, but there’s some pancakes in the oven for you, you just need to warm them up.”

He smiled “You’re too good to me.” “I know” she shrugged, standing on her toes to give him a kiss. With a chuckle he watched her leave, Thor trotting behind her before he let out a deep breath.

“Does that make me bad?”

The fact that she was even asking that, after everything, was enough of an answer in itself. Bad? There was nothing further from the truth and he hated that she had even entertained the idea. But, as Frank realised when he poured himself a coffee, now the bastard was dead, there was nothing else he could do to her. That particular shadow was now well gone.

And Frank didn’t give a shit whether being happy or, dare he say it, amused at the fact the fucker had died in prison, made him a bad person or not.

*****

An hour later Fliss was collected by Bill, the poor bloke was on drop off and pick up duty and Frank didn’t envy him dealing with all 4 of women. Out of courtesy, Frank had offered to run one way but Bill had waved his offer off, pointing out that he had to collect his mother later that afternoon from the aiport.

He walked out to the car with them, taking a side glance at his girl who was dressed in a pale pink and blue maxi dress, which was quite low cut and made her pregnancy boobs look fucking amazing. He smiled as he opened the door for her, Fliss sinking into the front seat- being basically 40 weeks pregnant and ready to pop awarded her certain perks such as her mother surrendering her usual position in the passenger side.

“Have a nice time.” He said, leaning over to give her a peck.

“We will.” She smiled “I left Mary some Mac and Cheese for lunch, she was asking before so I pulled it out of the freezer.”

Frank smiled “I’ll fight her for it.” “No need.” She grinned “I got you some out too.” “You spoil me”

Smiling, she reached up and cupped his cheek before he straightened up and shut the door. Once he was sure it was closed he jerked his head to Bill who was bent giving Thor a pat and signalled for the man to walk with him a little, taking a few steps away.

“Everything ok?” Bill asked.

“Yeah, well, sort of. She’s probably gonna tell you herself but just in case she doesn’t, she had a call this morning. John’s dead.” Bill blinked, before he gave a snort “Good.” “Yeah, that was kind of my reaction too.” Frank scratched at his neck. “Fliss, however, well she says she didn’t feel anything. Not happy, not sad, just complete indifference. Which, to be fair, is probably a good thing for her. I’m just a little worried she’s numb because it hasn’t sunk in yet.” Bill nodded “If she doesn’t mention it herself on the way I’ll tell V on the quiet when we get there.” “Thanks.”  Frank smiled as the two of them headed back to the car. Frank grinned at Bill, as he could hear the chatter from the 4 women even through the closed doors and windows of the car.

“Good luck!” he said, nodding towards the vehicle.

Bill snorted before he frowned a little “How come you haven’t gone with Steve and the boys up to the Water Sports centre?” “Mary didn’t want to.” Frank said “I think she’s still a little, self-conscious, I suppose is the term, around the twins but she’ll come round. You know what she’s like” “Well, when they move over in January she’ll have plenty of time to get to know them properly” Bill shrugged “Right, best get this rabble to the hotel. See you later son.” Frank smiled, nodding at him. As the Range Rover pulled off up the drive he tossed a hand at the tailgate before he looked down at Thor.

“Come on boy, let’s go find Mary.” It didn’t take them long to locate her. Having finished her lesson she’d been busy grooming Monty and then helping Joanne with a few chores, or bugging the shit out of her Frank suspected but Joanne was always so patient with her. The young woman was god-send, having really stepped up over the last 2 months especially. Frank knew why Fliss liked her so much.

He practically dragged Mary home, but it really was getting ridiculously warm and he wanted her to have a few hours inside to keep cool a little. In the end, as always, they haggled reaching a compromise that she could have a little while in the pool provided she sat in the shade quietly to eat lunch. As always he was roped into the pool with her, such a hard life he led, and after 30 minutes of teaching her how to dive they both climbed out and ate before changing and heading to the airport to collect Evelyn who was coming to stay for a while.

He greeted her with the usual nod and smile as Mary gave her a hug, before he took her bag from her and they headed back to his truck, Mary gibbering on about anything and everything, his mother listening and replying when needed. The last time Mary had seen Evelyn she had gone to Boston for the weekend the previous month, something that had set Frank on edge after the last time, but as Fliss had reasoned with him, he knew that he couldn’t allow that to stop him from letting her go. This meant that Evelyn hadn’t seen their house since they had moved in back in June. Mary showed her round, Frank following, and when they got to Bean’s room he saw her stop and look round, smiling softly.

“You’ve done a good job, Frank.” She turned to look at him and he smiled back.

“You sound surprised, mother.” “Not at all.” She shook her head. “I expected nothing less.” “Makes a change.” He couldn’t help the sarcastic shot back and she narrowed her eyes.

“Are we not passed the sniping yet?” she said, tiredly.

Frank held his hands up, “Sorry.” After she’d seen the attic and Mary’s room, they headed back downstairs, Frank showing Evelyn to the Guest Apartment over the Garage which he had put the finishing touches to the week before. Fliss had stocked the fridge fully for her, meaning she had everything she could need for snacks and drinks, and whatever else she needed for a comfortable stay. He left her to unpack, telling her to come over to the main house when she was done, which she did a little over an hour later.

Frank poured her a glass of white wine, and they headed outside, taking a seat at the table as Mary was in and out of the pool freely as the sun wasn’t quite as high as it had been given that it was half four in the afternoon. Evelyn took the opportunity to ask Frank if they were ready for Bean to arrive and he smiled, shrugging.

“As ready as we can be.” He said, “We’ve had all the hospital tours and found the place Fliss prefers so…” “Where have you chosen?” Evelyn asked.

“Bayfront in St Pete’s” Frank said, pulling out his phone “They have a suite called the Baby Place.”

He flicked through his phone’s internet browser to the bookmarked page and handed it to Evelyn who put on her glasses to scan the information.

"The separate family lounge offers some of the amenities of home, such as a game table, bla bla bla and room enough to host celebrations and enjoy time with loved ones." Evelyn read from the website. "It looks like a hotel not a hospital" she mused as she handed the phone back to Frank. "Well, that's kinda the idea mother." He said, tossing his phone onto the table. "It’s actually a state-approved level 3 Regional Perinatal Intensive Care Centre." Mary appeared at the side of them, picking up her towel. "The program is one of only 12 in the state of Florida" Evelyn looked at her, cooking her head to one side as Frank gave a chuckle. "There is that too." He said as Evelyn turned to him. Mary, wrapped herself in the towel and hopped up onto his knee. "We originally discussed a birthing centre with the midwife but Fliss was too worried about what could go wrong or if she decided half way through she wanted an epidural..." he rubbed at Mary’s shoulders slightly, drying her off with the towel. “So when the midwife suggested this it seemed like a perfect compromise. She gets a private recovery area and should make her feel more at ease. She doesn't have fond memories of hospitals." He shrugged "Who does?" Evelyn looked at him, taking a sip of her wine. "Well Fliss has some particularly bad ones what with her back injury and operation, not to mention all the times he put her in one." Frank said, pausing for a second. That reminded him.

“Hey Stack, can you go grab me a can of soda?”

“Only if I can have one.” She bargained.

“Fine, but grab the no sugar. You’re already hyper enough as it is.”

Mary jumped down and headed through the door into the kitchen. As soon as she was out of earshot Frank looked at his mother.

“John’s dead.” He said bluntly “Fliss had a call this morning. He was stabbed in prison.” Evelyn looked at him for a second, before she gave a snort “Couldn’t have happened to a nicer guy.” She said sarcastically “How has Fliss taken it?”

“Well she wasn’t leaping for joy but she’s not upset, says she feels nothing.” He shrugged, looking up as Mary came back. She handed him a can as she hopped back on his knee and opened the other one herself.

Evelyn studied Frank for a second as if she was considering something before she smiled "I take it the fact she's due to drop tomorrow is the reason you're on soft drinks and not beer." Frank smiled "Just playing it safe. I mean so are you right? That's why you're here for the next 2 weeks." Evelyn shrugged "is it a problem?" "No." Frank shook his head before he grinned cheekily "Why do you think I finished the apartment above the Garage?" "Bill says in England they would call it a Granny Flat" Mary said as Frank gave a snort. Evelyn chuckled a little. "I’m aware of the terminology, thank you, on account of being from England myself." She looked at Mary "You know, people build them on their property when they want their elderly relatives to move in with them so they can look after them." she turned to Frank, smirking "So I'm honoured, Francis..." "I didn't build it just for you." He rolled his eyes "it was half done when we moved in so it made sense to finish it." He picked up his can "It’s a place for anyone to stay, although I'd be lying if I said you weren't at the forefront of my mind when we did it" Evelyn looked at him, shocked, "me?" "Yeah..." he shrugged, grinning "Fliss told me that I wasn't allowed to let you stay in a hotel or at Bill and V's now we have room so this was the best way of actually keeping you out of the house..." "Oh piss off!" Evelyn looked at him, slapping his arm as he laughed. She shook her head and before she could shoot a sarcastic response back, the sound of an engine coming up the drive hit Frank’s ears and a soft smile crept across his face. His girl was home. Thor gave a loud bark and stood up, running to the gate, Frank following him. He opened it, striding out onto the path through the lawn which led round the side of their house to the front. He smiled as Fliss pushed herself out of her dad's range rover and he instantly spotted that her hair was a lighter colour than it had been that morning and was flowing round her face and shoulders in perfectly styled waves. It was evident she had enjoyed herself, as she looked relaxed for the first time in weeks. "Well I would ask if you had a nice time." He smiled, dropping a kiss to her cheek "but I can tell from the way you're grinning that you did." "Oh it was amazing." She smiled as his hands fell to her hips. “Just what I needed. I feel relaxed and absolutely ready to push a baby out of my vagina.” Frank gave a loud laugh as he shook his head. “Well, your hair looks great." "Aww thanks Frank." Roberta slapped his shoulder as she walked past him into the yard. He rolled his eyes as Fliss laughed, tugging on Frank’s hand as she led him to the trunk of Bill's car. Bill was stood with it open as Verity and Sian were looking in each of the bags before Verity pointed at one and handed it to Fliss, Frank immediately taking it from her. He peered inside.

"Because you don't have enough toiletries" he deadpanned. Fliss shrugged. "The lavender stuff they said would help me sleep, which in case you haven't noticed I've been struggling to do over the last 2 weeks." "Hard not to notice when you wake me up at 3:30 am to tell me" "I did that once because I felt sick. And besides, you did this to me..." she pointed to her now really rather large bump "...you should also be feeling the consequences" Bill snorted as he shut the trunk of his car and looked at Frank as he glanced at the older man, almost pleading for help "Sorry lad." Bill chuckled "You got her pregnant and wanna marry her, she's your problem now." "She is here..." Fliss glared at her father. "Oh, trust me Titch, we are all well aware you are." "Rude" Fliss looked at her parents as they headed into the garden. "Steve and the boys will be here in about 5." Sian looked at Fliss having just got off the phone to him. "Said to tell you he is picking up some real meat on the way over...whatever that means Frank?" Frank laughed "he means fillet steak. I got Sirloin. A man's cut. He's being a pussy" Sian looked at Fliss who simply shook her head. "Meat is a big issue for Francis." She said sombrely, patting his chest.

“I just know what I like.” He shrugged. They made their way through to the back in time to see Verity giving Evelyn a warm hug in greeting. It made Fliss smile softly, noticing how different it all was to the stiff handshakes shared when they met for the first time little over a year ago.

Frank dropped a kiss to her cheek and headed inside to put her bag away before he came back down just as Steve and the boys turned up. Then the usual thing that happened at BBQs went ahead, the men crowding round the grill, the women bustling in and out of the kitchen setting out the sides and accompaniments, the 3 kids bombing in and out of the pool.

“You should have come with us today Mary.” Steve said to the girl as she sauntered past in her bathing suit. She paused to look at him.

“What did you do?”

“We did Kayaking, skiing, the boys went bodyboarding but I sat that one out.” Steve said.

“I didn’t know if I would like it.” She shrugged, dropping her eyes slightly. Frank watched carefully as Steve crouched down.

“Me neither, but you know what? It was fun, and the best thing is, if there’s something you don’t wanna do, you can sit it out and watch.” Frank could see from her face she was mulling this over. She looked at Steve “Are you going again Uncle Steeby?”

“Next Friday.” He nodded.

“Ok, I wanna go next time.” She announced. “Mind your manners.” Frank instructed, gently, pointing the tongues he was holding at her.

“Please.” She added. Charlie and Joel both erupted into noise, demanding that their father allow it and Steve gave a chuckle.

“You’re welcome any time Stack, as long as Frank and Fliss say its ok.” He said, standing up. “Fine by me. In fact you can keep her if you want.” Frank shrugged and Mary rolled her eyes.

“You always say stuff like that, pretend you don’t want me here but we all know the truth. You do, that’s why you’re adopting me.”

“Smart ass.” Frank narrowed his eyes at her as she stuck her tongue out and ran off. Bill and Steve chuckled as Frank shook his head, snorting.

“Thanks Steve.” He looked at the man who waved his thanks away.

“You know, she’s getting more like Fliss was every day.” Bill said “you want to watch that, Frank. She was a sassy little swine as a kid.” “Mary was already a sass bag before she met Fliss.” Frank shrugged, turning over the steaks on the grill. “Lissy just encourages it.” “Have you had any luck with her biological father?” Steve asked and Frank shook his head.

“We’re not expecting to yet. We’ve only given him notification of our intent. I suspect when Greg actually starts the process officially we’ll hear something.”

“But you don’t expect him to object?”

Frank hesitated before he shrugged “I can’t see why he would. He’s never been interested in her, at all. I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t a slight worry but like Fliss keeps telling me, we’ll cross that bridge when we get there.” “No point worrying about something you can’t control.” Bill said wisely, before he drained his beer “Right, I need another drink. Anyone else want one?”

“Yeah, I’ll come with you” Steve said “Frank?”

“I’m good, thanks.” “You can have one or two, surely?” Steve looked at him.

“Leave him alone.” Bill said, shoving his son on the shoulder, “That’s your sister and my little girl he’s looking out for…” “Fuckin’ pussy…” Steve snorted playfully and Frank threw the burger flipper at him.

Bill and Steve walked away, playfully squabbling and a few seconds later Frank felt a familiar pair of arms wrap around him from behind, Fliss pressing her lips to the space between his shoulder blades.

“Hey gorgeous.” He said, moving so she could slide under his arm. He pressed a kiss to her head “You ok?”

“Yeah, fine.” She smiled, looking up at him. “You know I really do I love your hair." He said, taking in the lighter colour even more in the now closing light of day. Over the past two years, her vivid auburn had gradually tone down and was now a light brown, laced with copper and blonde.

“Thanks.” She said, a little shyly and Frank frowned.

“Don’t you like it?”

“No, I love it…it’s just, well, actually it doesn’t matter.” “Lissy.” He looked at her sternly, and she sighed, her hands worrying one another so Frank put the cooking utensils down and took them in his. “Tell me what’s going on.” “John hated me changing it.” She shrugged “Which is why I went so bright red in the first place. Once I left him I just fancied doing something wild. I’ve always liked it a bit lighter. He insisted I kept it dark…”

“Well you can do what the fuck you want with it.” He assured her, “Unless you want to shave it all off. Then I might raise some objections.” “Sorry. She said gently and he frowned.

“What for?” “Raising him again” she shrugged “We’ve been together almost 2 years now and…” “Hey.” He said, “Don’t ever apologise. I’d rather you tell me when you’re feeling like this. You know that.”

“Of course I do, I just wonder sometimes if it’s ever gonna stop.”

“So what if it doesn’t?” Frank looked at her. She blinked and he shrugged “I’ve told you, you can always talk to me. Nothing you say is gonna make me mad.”

She smiled at him as he dropped his head, gently giving her a peck. “I know, I just get fed up sometimes. Stupid little memories and flashbacks.” “I know.” He smiled at her, kissing her head softly “But they don’t rule your life anymore, not like they used to. They’re just…”he hesitated “A minor annoyance, a bit like him really, insignificant.”

“He’s even more insignificant now.” She grinned “He’s fucking dead.”

At that Frank let out a snort “I take it you’re not longer feeling numb then.”

She shrugged “Mum said exactly the same as you before, that we should be throwing a party so…”

Frank chuckled again, pulling her into him even further as he turned back to the grill.

******

Despite it being her due date the following day there was no sign of Bean. And he didn’t make an appearance on the Monday either. On Tuesday they headed in for an assessment at the hospital, and after an examination the Midwife smiled at Fliss as she lay on the bed.

"Well, Miss Gallagher... he is in the right position." The midwife smiled. “Dropped and ready.” "He needs to hurry up." Fliss grumbled "He was due two days ago.” "Your due date is never exact. I wouldn't worry. His heartbeat is strong, he'll arrive when he is ready." "Already taking after his father." Fliss shot a side glance at Frank who raised an eyebrow. "Ok so if there's no sign of him by the morning of the 28th then just call" the woman said and Frank bit back a smirk at the look of utter disgust on Fliss' face "We'll check everything and do a sweep to get things moving." "Is there anything we can do?" Fliss practically whined "Spicy food? Pineapple? Speed bumps?" The Midwife laughed "I'm afraid they're only old wives tales. The only one with a shred of credibility is sex." Frank grinned and Fliss shot him a glare. "Semen contains prostaglandins" the midwife shot Fliss a wink "It can trigger the release of oxytocin which is a hormone that can help contractions." At that it was Fliss' turn to grin. "So all I need is your sperm and a turkey baster Sailor. Unlucky." Frank rolled his eyes and mentally cursed the midwife for her damned scientific explanation. "But in essence if your body isn’t ready to labour, nothing you do will necessarily get you going." She smiled "Sorry, you're just gonna have to ride it out." Despite the joking there was no activity in the bedroom that night other than a lot of tossing and turning as Fliss was really struggling to get comfortable enough to sleep. Frank hated seeing her so tired and fed up but when at 3:30 am he sleepily asked her if she needed anything she simply asked for a cuddle which he was more than happy to provide.

“I’m sorry.” She mumbled.

“What for?”

“I know I've been a pain these last 2 weeks.”

“You’re heavily pregnant and fed up.” He said, kissing her head

“I wouldn't be able to do this alone. I don't know how my mum did.” She said softly. Frank sighed and pulled her closer, remembering how upset she had been a week or so back when their conversation one evening with Mary had turned to Frank telling her how he had been with Diane when she was born. Hormones be damned, it had set Fliss off about how nice it was that Frank had been there and stood by Diane and how she wished her own mom had that, but instead Verity’s parents had kicked her out and left her alone and pregnant at the age of 19.

Frank knew Verity had been young when she had Fliss, although he had never expressly asked he had worked it out from the fact she was 9 years Bill's junior. He also knew there was a lot of bad blood on that side of the family and that Fliss had never met her maternal grandparents, even when they reached out to her later down the line. She had rather impolitely told them to fuck off, Verity doing the same. When asked by Mary why she hadn’t forgiven them as they were family, Fliss had shrugged and simply replied that family isn't and never would be about blood, but instead it was about those people who saw you at your absolute worst and wanted you just the same. "You've nothing to be sorry for.” Frank gently soothed her, “And you're not on your own. You never will be." "I know." She looked up at him, smiling as he gave her a soft kiss.

Things continued much the same for the rest of the week. Every so often Fliss would get a twinge, and the pair of them would get excited, thinking this was it, only for nothing to happen. On the Friday, almost a week post her due date, Frank called the midwife who arranged for them to come in the next morning. Evelyn, who was being particularly helpful, even if Frank was loath to admit it cooked for them all that night, but Fliss had struggled to eat her meal, declaring she felt a bit sick. After a profound apology to Evelyn she announced she was heading for a bath and then going to bed.

“Do you want me to come with you?” Frank asked and Fliss shook her head.

“It’s not even 7. I might be back down in an hour or so if I feel better.” “Ok, can you manage-“

“Frank!” she said, exasperatedly. “I’m fine.” “Well, you’re-“ he began and Evelyn laid her hand on his arm and shook her head gently. For the first time in, well, as long as he could remember, he obeyed an order from his mother and stopped. “Alright. Just shout me then if you need anything.”

She gave him a kiss on his cheek, her way of apology for snapping and headed off.

“You won’t need that appointment tomorrow.” Evelyn said after a pause and Frank turned to her.

“What makes you say that?” “Because I felt the same the day before I went into labour with you.” Evelyn said “Queasy, tired, just generally off.” “Well, I hope you’re right because she’s fed up.” Frank sighed “He’s fully cooked now, just being a stubborn little bastard.”

“What was it you once said to me about an apple and a tree analogy?” she looked at him, arching an eyebrow and Frank snorted.

“Yeah ok, you got me there” he conceded.

Fliss didn’t come back down after her bath. Frank popped in on her a few times and she was simply led in bed, trying to get comfortable, tearfully complaining that her back ache was particularly bad. Frank led besides her for half an hour or so, gently working at the lower part of her spine that was giving her the trouble before he realised she’d fallen asleep. He left her to it, heading back down to his mother and Mary, before a few hours later, just before 10, they all decided to go to bed as it had been a long day. Fliss didn’t wake up when he slid in besides her, nor when he dropped a kiss to her cheek. He watched her for a moment as she lay, facing him, before he too closed his eyes.

***** His baby was sat on his knee, grinning up at him. He smiled down at the boy, whose hands were wrapped tight around his index fingers. He glanced up, looking around for Fliss but there was no sign of her. Nor Mary for that matter. Hoisting Alex up onto his hip he headed out to the garden and gave a start as he saw both Fliss and Mary floating face down in the pool.

“No, no…” he began to mutter, before his muttering became frantic yells “No, this…not my girls…not…”

With a start, Frank sat straight upright in bed, breathing deeply. He glanced at the clock on the side which read 23:30, damned he hadn’t even been asleep an hour! What the fuck…

He wiped his clammy brow and lay back, feeling Fliss stir besides him.

“Frank?” she asked softly, “Are you ok?” “Bad dream.” He mumbled, turning onto his side and sliding his arm under her neck, pulling her back into his chest.

“You wanna talk about it?” she asked.

He shook his head with the air of a small child, pressing his nose into her neck, breathing in her smell and comfort. As he nuzzled at her, he felt her sigh a little and push back further into him.

“Stop it.” She muttered.

“Stop what?” he asked.

“That.” She said, “On my neck…”

“Why?” he teased, his nose being replaced by his lips as he gently trailed open mouthed kisses up to her ear.

“You know why…”

“You ready to try what the midwife suggested?” he muttered, his mouth nipping at her ear and she gave a laugh.

“I'm willing to try anything. Just make it quick, I’m not bothered about coming. I only need your sperm.” “Charming…” he snorted as she gave a soft chuckle. His hand that had been resting on her bump softly moved down a little as he shifted, snaking his leg in between hers, opening her up slightly. He hooked her leg up over his hip, his fingers softly trailing up her bare thigh, shifting her sleep shorts to one side as he slipped his hand gently into her folds. She bucked harshly.

“Easy baby.” he muttered.

“Can’t help it.” she let out a soft sigh “Sensitive…” With a smile, he used his other hand to tip her head round so he could catch her mouth with his own, kissing her gently, his tongue softly sliding against hers, swallowing the moans and groans she was eliciting as he worked her with his hand. Had she been a little more with it, she might have been slightly embarrassed at how pathetically short a period of time it was before he had her clamping down around his fingers, shuddering as her release washed over her, but she was too gone to care. She’d hardly even come down from her orgasm when Frank eased her shorts down, then his boxers and with a gently push forward slid into her, the pair of them letting out hushed sighs as he began to slowly slide in and out of her. There was no haste to his movements, no rush, nothing, it was gentle, sweet, loving as he kept her held close to him, his lips lavishing affection on her shoulders and neck. Before long he heard and felt he breathing falling into that tell-tale staccato panting and she let out a low, quiet but downright filthy noise from her throat and Frank’s lips curved into a grin against her neck.

“Come on beautiful…” he mumbled, the heat in his own belly was sending spikes of fire up and down his body as he fought to keep control for a little longer “Come on.” And she did, her head tipped back and with a stuttering whisper of his name he felt her tighten around him, her legs quivering as he himself came, his hips slowing to a stop as he gently bit down on her shoulder. The pair of them lay still for a while, his hand softly curving up and around her bump, over her hip, down her thigh and back again, gently repeating the motion.

“You ok?” he asked and she nodded, humming in contentment. He pulled out of her, righted their items of clothing as Fliss hardly moved. He kept her pressed close to him as he closed his eyes, drifting off again.

He was woken 3 hours later, just before 4 am by Fliss shaking his arm.

“Frank…”

He groaned but didn’t open his eyes.

“Frank…Bean…I think he’s on his way…”

He let out a grin and turned over “My sperms worked then…” he mumbled into the pillow.

Fliss looked at him, waiting for the moment her words registered in his sleep-addled brain, which happened roughly 10 or so seconds later when he suddenly sat bolt upright, turning to face her.

“Penny dropped?” she asked arching an eyebrow.

He blinked “He’s…” She nodded, “Yeah…” He blinked again before he swallowed, and with a grin stuttered out a single word.

“Shit!”

#riding on #frank adler #frank adler x ofc #gifted #gifted fan fic

[thewalkingdead-imagines]

TWD - Negan Imagine ~ “Morning Star”

Imagine about the the 11th episode of season 10.

Summary: While the Reader prepares along with the rest of Hilltop for the upcoming battle, Negan has no idea that his wife is actually inside the community Alpha plans to destroy.

Bright sunbeams shone down on you as the carriage beneath you jerked a little, shaken by the potholes in the old roads that winded through the forest that lead you closer to Hilltop. You hadn’t even thought that you would be able to join the others at first, not with the staff shortage you currently had in the infirmary anyway, but things had turned out in your favor. The last three victims of Dante’s water contamination were doing pretty well again but the whole act had other consequences than just sick patients. Dante’d done a pretty good job on using, even wasting, the majority of Alexandria’s most important meds, had made sure that not much was left after and especially with the Whisperers sitting in your necks, it was more important than ever to stock up again. So that was your job now, getting new meds, judging which ones you needed and which ones you could pass on, and if things worked out, maybe recruit someone from Hilltop to come back with you to the infirmary to have another pair of helping hands. And you were glad about that, you needed to get out of the infirmary and Alexandria in general for some time. In the mostly empty infirmary you had too much time to let your thoughts get the best of you and whirl up new worries about Negan. They wouldn’t be gone now, for sure not, but being distracted in an environment you weren’t as used to as Alexandria was hopefully a good thing. Sighing you leaned back into the small pillow that was protecting your back from pressing directly into the rough wooden backrest and glanced around, watching as the green trees passed by. It was beautiful outside and part of you hoped that it could lift your mood a little. You were close to spiraling deeper into that dark hole with all those worries about your husband, the grief about Siddiq, the frustration about this whole Dante thing pooling within you and mixing with the shock of last night, you knew that, and you didn’t want to hit it’s bottom nor dive just a tiny bit deeper into it. So instead of dwelling more on your thoughts you tried to catch some of the conversation that was going on in the front of the wagon, still circling around the cave like it had a couple moments ago. “It was...”,you could hear Aaron say in his front seat as he leaned back to glimpse at Rosita,”It was Carol. There was some dynamite in the cave, we agreed on not risking it...she took it anyway.” He scoffed slightly, clearly frustrated while you could only think back at what had happened in the night you’d met Alpha at the border and her shot that would have almost resulted the war to break out earlier. She was troubled after Henry’s death, you got that and you didn’t even want to imagine what it was like to lose a child. Hell, you would do anything to get the head of the bitch that took it as well and you wouldn’t judge her on this but anger and grief were a dangerous mix, and it was putting people she cared about in danger, and that’s where shit like that had to be stopped. “We should look forward now though. That’s what’s important”, you heard Aaron quickly add, as if he was trying to not make the mess bigger than it already was before you glanced away from the conversation again and glimpsed back at the green forest around you, hoping that Hilltop wouldn’t be all to far away anymore. About a half day had passed since Beta had come back from his unsuccessful mission to bring the little spy back and in all honesty, in these kinda terms things couldn’t have worked better for Negan. The boss lady was definitely pissed at the weirdo giant for failing his mission which only let Negan rise in the skin freak ranks and just knowing that Gamma was in one of the communities was a whole different kind of jackpot. She’d spill all the secrets for sure, and with that, Beta’s failure wasn’t only a direct advantage to him but hell, also an indirect one to everyone at home. He was a little calmer than last night as well, after eavesdropping on the skin freaks that had accompanied Beta for some of the way and who’d grumbled about the deaths inside the walls. Some poor fuckers had to let their lives that night, he knew that but from everything he had heard and from trying to use the method of elimination, he was sure that Beta hadn’t gotten his hands on his girl. He couldn’t be one hundred percent sure, hell, he didn’t even know if she’d actually been in Alexandria that night, but he kept on telling himself that she was fine, that she had known what to do that night.  He kept on telling himself that she was okay. And while these were the advantages of Beta’s failure, Negan’s rise in the ranks got him to do a damn task the big ass freak probably usually did, and that was everything else than what Negan was in the mood for now. It was whipping Alpha’s arms with some thin branch for fuck knows which reason, maybe some fucking fetish, maybe because she thought that shit would get her stronger, he didn’t fucking know, all he knew as that he was growing tired of this crap. First that fucking kiss, now this shit. "Does this mean I've graduated to the next level of kinky Whisperer shit?”, he chuckled as he reached towards the branch with furrowed brows, trying to overplay how fucking ridiculous and absurd he actually found this whole situation. “You joke to hide your fear”, she said cooly, eying him for a moment while he let out a small sigh, pushing himself on his feet while she remained seated on one of the rocks that surrounded them. Well, she was sure partly right there, just didn’t he hide his fear, he tried to hide how weirded out he was right now. “You know, seems to me you've been cut up enough”, he grumbled as he watched more scars appear on her arm as she reached it out and pulled her sleeve further up. This shit was fucked up, holy shit was this fucked up. “Begin”, she insisted, closing her eyes as if she’d await the greatest fucking gift in the next moment before Negan furrowed his brows once more at her until he finally lifted the slim branch up and rushed it against her forearm, cutting into her flesh and leaving a red mark. She smiled, she fucking smiled as she glimpsed at her arm before she pushed it forwards again. “Again”, she mumbled, and so he did, not trying to argue anymore. Fuck, if she wanted this, she was gonna get it. The second lash left a brighter red mark on her arm than the first, leaving her looking even more satisfied than before as she stood up from the spot and abruptly took the branch out of his hand, just to nod towards him. “Now you.” Oh what the fuck. What was this crap gonna turn into now?  “Ah, does this mean we're bonded for life?”, he joked, trying to somehow process whatever the fuck was actually going on here. “Depends”, she said just as ice-cold as ever, while he slowly began to push the sleeve of his leather jacket up, just trying to get it over with as she rushed the branch in the very next moment against his arm “Aah”, he let out, half in pain, half in a chuckle while a wide grin painted on his face, his body’s odd way to cope with this bullshittery just as another whip rushed against his arm and elicited another flinch and chuckle to mix with one another. Well, at least that crap was done now. “Well done”, she said with a nod, tossing the branch away before she reached to the back pocket of her pants where she usually kept her mask, only with the difference now that she pulled a different one out and held it towards him. “You will need it tonight”, she added as soon as she caught his furrowing brows and the confused look on his face. Hell, was that his reward now for this whipping session? Getting to wear a dead dude’s face? ”For what?”, he asked, glancing down at her while the eerie smile from before started to grow on her lips again. ”Tonight, the enemy will die.”

The sun was already starting to near the skyline of the trees as you finally rolled through Hilltop’s gates and could hop from your crammed position on the wagon onto the ground to shake your legs a little out, glancing around the place you hadn’t visited in god knows how long. It hadn’t changed all too much, there was a whole new field of crops in front of the gates and some more stands and smaller houses in its inside but for the most part if looked pretty similar to the last time you’d walked in here. Mary hopped down the wagon beside you, a little insecure as she started to follow Aaron, before Rosita moved down as just as you grabbed the first empty box that was supposed to be filled with meds when you’d leave again and heft it down the wagon. ”I’ll go to the doc here right away and get some painkillers, want me to tell him you’ll come in later?”, she asked as she stopped beside you, nodding to the wound that was hidden underneath the boasting bandage you’d renewed earlier on your way here. ”Yeah, please. That’d be great”,you said, nodding as she was already starting to walk towards the trailer that had a big red cross painted onto it,”Thank you.” ”All good”, she responded back just as you got back to the wagon, reaching towards the medical bag that was filled with the couple bandages and salves you’d used a few from for Rosita, just as the sound of a familiar motorcycle sounded through the air. A little irritated you glanced up, just in the very moment you caught it rushing past the wagons through the gates, carrying Daryl and Lydia on the back and slowing immediately down before it came to a complete stop in the middle of the road that let to the mansion. For a moment you let the bag go, curious, a little irritated but relieved that your half brother was back and had found Lydia, while you made your way up to them while they attracted Yumiko, Luke and a couple other people who’d been standing on the mansion’s porch to make their way over to them as well. “My mother's coming”, you heard Lydia say just in the moment you reached them, immediately stopping you as an ice-cold shudder washed over you the moment Lydia’s voice hushed. ”The herd’s on its way”,Daryl grumbled, scoffing thickly as he shock his head and glimpsed at the people in front of him while you felt like you were glued to the spot for a moment,”Far away but it’s coming.” Curses sounded through the air, mixing with people starting to ask what they were supposed to do now just before Daryl’s voice sounded again through the air, shutting them down for a moment. ”We’ll meet up in the main room, we can talk it out there.” ”Good idea, I’ll get everyone”, Luke said, quickly nodding before he turned around and quickly hurried up the stairs, and while most eyes were on him in this moment, yours were on your half-brother. He was starting to lead these people and you doubted that he realized what he was doing there nor that he’d ever thought he would. But he was, he was leading them and for a moment you were a little taken aback by how easily the others followed him. “Hey”, you heard him suddenly say as he turned around, glancing a little irritated at you as he nodded towards you while Lydia vanished behind Luke in the mansion, ”Why’re ya here too?” ”We don’t have many meds left back home. Need to get new ones, maybe get someone to help out but I guess I can forget that now”, you gulped, feeling the tension rise within you as you started to realize that probably thousands of dead assholes were on their way to this small community, and you were stuck in its middle. Still, for a moment you got distracted from that as you glanced at Daryl, first noticing how battered he looked now that he stood right in front of you. He had some makeshift bandages wrapped around his hands and his leg, the one on the latter big and partly doubted in a dark red color. ”It’s nothing”, he said before you could even say a word, though he quickly let out a thick sigh as he caught the glance in your eyes. He couldn’t bullshit you, not you. That even counted after all these years. ”Was a fight after the cave...with Alpha, got her good too”, he reluctantly said, just adding onto the tension that was cursing through you before he quickly spoke up again,”Don’t have time to get that treated.” ”We have five minutes for sure”,you mumbled, glimpsing at the stubborn man. The wounds looked bad, especially the one on his leg and you knew him more than well enough that he’d even downplay an injury if his leg was shortly before falling off.  ”Will take some time till Luke and the others will get everyone in the meeting room. We could use that time window, I still got some stuff in the wagon”, you added, nodding towards the wagon you’d spent the last hours on before you caught Daryl shifting from foot to foot before he reluctantly started to nod. ”Mhmm okay.” ”Lydia made it”, Daryl grumbled as you found yourself sitting next to him the back of the wagon, cleaning the wound on his hand just to be sure even though it definitely already looked better than you expected, especially knowing that she’d done it in the middle of the muddy woods. ”Did a pretty good job, really”, you said, putting the disinfection liquid and the cloth to the side before you grabbed  one of the fresh bandages in the bag,”Is she okay too?” ”Yeah, made sure”, he nodded, though he seemed to tense up for a moment as he gulped thickly, shifting uncomfortably as you reached back for his hand. ”Couldn’t find ‘em”, he mumbled, barely audible as you had to take a moment before you realized that he was talking about Connie and Magna, and judging from how he was looking right now, it was hitting him harder than he lead on, especially because it was Carol who’d caused the cave to collapse. ”I’m sure they’ll make it out. Don’t know them well but they’re survivors...and smart. they’ll find a way”, you said, trying to give him a small but genuine smile as you wrapped the bandage securely around his hand and secured it, before starting to move to his leg.  ”Hope so”, he nodded, gulping thickly once more while you decided to not bore further. It was too fresh and if he’d want to tell you, he would, but right now, it didn’t seem like he wanted to talk to anybody about this more than he already had. So instead of speaking you started to unwrap the bandage on his leg, carefully to not hurt him more before a sharp breath fell from your lips the moment you uncovered the wound in its entirety, cleaned but deep and probably caused by a large hunting knife that had dug itself into his thigh. ”Holy shit, Daryl that’s deep-” ”Just get a tight bandage ‘round it...please”, he cut you off, already knowing that you’d tell him what he’d really need with a wound like that before you glanced from the boasting wound to him and realized that he’d already made a decision. His stubborn head had become set on just getting the most necessary for his injury before heading inside to make a plan, you wouldn’t be able to change anything about that. ”Alright...”, you said, sighing slightly as you moved closer and started the procedure you had done on his hand all over again, starting at cleaning the wound carefully from the last bit of any mud before starting to get a bandage around his leg, with just enough pressure to make sure it wouldn’t start bleeding again and judging from its look, it already had done so more than enough. ”There you go”, you said as you finally finished the bandage watching as Daryl looked at it before he moved himself with a push from the wagon, wincing slightly as the foot of his injured leg met the ground before he looked back at you. ”Thank you”,he nodded, shifting a little to get the bandage to sit more comfortably before he nodded towards the mansion,”Now let’s get inside” Shock was still stuck in Negan’s bones as he walked through the forest, still trying to process the news of Alpha’s planned massacre at the communities as he made himself on his way to try to change this whole shitshow into something else. He couldn’t let it come so far, he couldn’t let her nor this fucking herd of dead assholes come close enough to any of the communities his wife could be located in. First and fucking foremost, he couldn’t let that happen to her but he also couldn’t let that happen to anyone she cared about, he wanted to protect her from that pain and that part counted for Judith and any other kid that was stuck in there too. He was in here to work against that whole crap, not to be part of it. Clasping that fucking stinking mask in his hand he slowly moved out of the forest onto a small clearing that was streaked with a small creak, that splashed softly against the rocks Alpha was standing on, almost looking as if she was meditating. “Got a little unsolicited advice...everyone's favorite kind, I know, but I can't help myself. And maybe I thought of an idea that you haven't yet”, he said as he moved closer, though remaining a little behind her as she didn’t even move an inch, only opened her eyes as she heard his voice. “I respect a well-deserved massacre”,he said, clearing his throat as he shifted a little from foot to foot,”Some people they just have it coming. And I get why you want to take out Hilltop and Alexandria. It would just It would feel good.” Still no reaction, so hell, he was just gonna keep going, he had to take this chance. “But you know what might feel goddamn fantastic? Getting those assholes to surrender, bend a knee”, he said, slowly growing a little impatient and nervous, though he sure did everything in his might not to let it shimmer through,”Alpha, we can get them to join us.” Inwardly, he was cursing to himself as he still saw no reaction coming from her, part of him asking himself if he should talk more and add something onto it just before he finally heard her voice sounding through the air. “Explain.” "You heard them out there. We have to go. Even if you took out half the herd in that cave, she's got thousands left. You can't stay here”, Lydia said as she paced around the main room that was filled up with each Alexandrian that had come over to the community and Hilltop’s highest members, discussing what should be done next with the dead army marching closer to you with every moment. “The skins could march straight to Alexandria for all we know”, Earl said as he shifted over his spot on the couch while Daryl stood next to you and gripped the backrest with his hands, leaning a little forward to glance at the group. "Yeah, we're right in their way”, he mumbled, his fingers squeezing the cushion as if he was trying to get rid of the tension that laid over him this way before Earl cleared his throat again. “Maybe she goes around us.” “She doesn't need to go around you. She'll just run through you”, Lydia said, the stress clearly sounding through her voice as you watched Jerry shaking his head vehemently. "I'm not running again - Hell no.” " Lydia's right. We can rebuild anywhere”, you now hear Diane chime in while you could feel yourself growing more uncomfortable the more your mind started to realize how real everything about the growing threat was.  “Come on. We can't. How many scouting missions you been on, son? Hundreds? Have you ever seen a place like Hilltop?”, you could hear Earl say, and while the thought of fighting a herd more than just a couple sizes larger than the one that had once broke into Alexandria, there was something right about what he said. There weren’t many places the Hilltopers could go to, Alexandria had its capacities too and every place that might have potential in terms of buildings had fallen victim to nature. Building a place like this one up again, that would take a whole lot of time and effort, and in the current situation, no one in here had that. The only chance they had if they fled was letting the herd pass by and then rebuild of what was left of hilltop, which to you, seemed like the best possibility right now. “ No”, Aaron grumbled before you could think any further.  “We have a few dozen able-bodied fighters here. Maybe. You like those odds? - 'Cause I don't”, Yumiko said, standing up from her spot on the bench as she glimpsed around the room, looking at Aaron as he shook his head again. “Neither do I.” “Now, we don't have to die here. We're going to have to fight, and if we die, we die fighting for a place that means something. Can you think of a better way to go?”, Earl nearly cut him off and that’s where you and by the look on everybody’s else's face the entirety of the room disagreed with him. You weren’t gonna die here. You came here to get some new meds and recruits for the infirmary, you weren’t gonna just let Alpha’s herd kill you when there were other ways to get out of this situation, even if this meant that Hilltop was lost. “Yeah. We go with my daughter's life intact. And Judith's and Ezra's and Adam's. You want me to keep going?”, Aaron quickly said, almost snapped, back, the tone in his voice strained and angered while for the first time in a long time, you agreed with him.  You had no plans to go on a suicide mission just to play along with the others the big heroes that go down in a fight, especially not on the costs of children. There were times you just had to give in, no matter how bitter it was, and flee, if you wanted to survive, and one of these times had come now. “Alright, let's get the kids out first. Everybody, pack up. We're going to Oceanside”, Daryl said, motioning his fingers to spell Oceanside while his voice calm compared to the others,”Grab weapons, food whatever you can. We'll regroup there.” Hilltop seemed like a bustling beehive as everybody started to pack up, pushing the most important supplies and weapons into the wagons while the first one with the Lydia, Judith, RJ and a couple of other kids had left along with Daryl and Diane about a fifteen minutes ago. You were just about to pack a few light spears into the back of one of the larger wagons as you heard the voices becoming louder for a moment mixing with the sound of Daryl’s motorcycle, enough to make you back away from the wagon’s entrance to see him moving back into the community, closely followed by the wagon with the kids. “What happened?”, you heard Aarons voice call out for them, as the confusion and moreover the thought that this couldn’t mean anything good shot through you as you walked towards the small group of people that started to grow around Aaron and Daryl. “She blocked all the roads. Means they're closing in on us. If we had a window to get out, we just missed it”, he scoffed, and with these few words washed a new wave of tension over you. This was bad, this was fucking bad. “But we can't stay here”, Kelly said, her voice breaking as she tried to suppress the tears that started to pool in her eyes,”You said...you all said we can't stay here.” “We can call Alexandria, right?”, Luke asked, his voice letting it shimmer through that he was rather grasping for straws than actually believing in what he was saying ,”Call Alexandria, and they'll get fresh fighters here, right? And...And it's not just gonna be us. It's not gonna be just us, right?”  “Oceanside can't get here. Alexandria, either. Not in time. Not after what happened. We're on our own”, Diane mumbled while you glimpsed at Daryl, meeting his glance for a moment that had an odd glance stuck in him, tensed as before, but there was something else about him you couldn’t quite grasp yet. "Divvy up your arsenals. We got catapults up on the walls. And a damn good militia. This is what you've all been practicing for”, Earl’s stern voice ripped you away from Daryl and lead you glance immediately to him as he stomped towards the group,” Come on, now, people! Do whatever you need to get your heads on straight! This is gonna be the fight of our lives.” This was enough to let the group sprawl out again over the place, while no one, including you, was as pumped up about this fight as Earl seemed to be. Still, there was no way past it now and you had to get through it now, no matter what. For another moment, your eyes laid on Earl before you caught Daryl moving closer to you, still with that odd look on his face as he finally rose his voice again. “The roads, that was your hus-”,Daryl started to say, stopping at the last word as if it tasted like poison in his mouth while his glance and just the beginning of this word washed an ice-cold shudder down your back ,”Negan’s with them now. He’s blocked ‘em.” “What?”, it nearly instinctively slipped out of your lips, even though one part of this whole accusation didn’t come as a giant shock or surprise to you. You’d suspected he’d infiltrated himself into their ranks to destroy them, but that last part rubbed you the wrong way,”How do you know that’s him?”  “Trees blocking the road, some guy hanging strangled from a tree, remembers you of something?”, he said, a thicker frown growing over his face as he forced you to remember the hours before the bloody night in the clearing and you couldn’t even completely disagree with Daryl on this. It seemed like the same strategy, but who knew, maybe he’d done it on purpose.  “But if that’s him, I’m sure he’s got a plan”,you said, gulping thickly as you looked at him, trying to choose your words right to not anger him to the extent that he’d just storm off without hearing your whole point and putting your relationship back to square one,”He’s probably just trying to earn their trust to take them down from the inside. He’s playing them.” “Nah”, he quickly shook his head,”He’s one of ‘em now.” “No, no he’s not. He might be at their camp but he’s not one of them”, you repeated yourself, while you didn’t even see anger growing over Daryl’s face but rather desperation, maybe even pity while the frustration within you grew. You didn’t want this to start this debate over Negan all over from the beginning, not again. “You’re blind”, he said, glimpsing at you through the brown strands of hair that hung into his face,”You’re so in love with him you don’t see the truth about that asshole.” “That’s not true”,you said, growing more desperate as well while you tried to grasp for straws,” Daryl, You saw the note he left for me.” “Yeah, maybe started out that way”,he grumbled, clenching his jaw as he shook his head again,”But asshole stays asshole. Think he saw that he’s free now...he switched you against freedom.” “He wouldn’t do that”, you tried to urge again while you felt dumb for repeating yourself over and over again as you just didn’t know what else to tell him to believe you on this. “He did”,he grumbled again, stepping a little closer to you as he gulped thickly,”and he doesn’t deserve how much you protect him. He’s scum.” “He’s not and I know him”,you responded quickly, feeling a shot of pain boring through you just having to hear Daryl talk like that about him before you shook your head, trying to keep your cool,”and I know how naive I sound to you. But I’ve been with that man every day for over eight years. I know how he thinks, he’s got a plan, you’ll see.” “Yeah, we’ll see”,he grumbled, while you could tell that he didn’t put one bit of belief or hope into your words as he looked at you one more time before he moved past you towards the mansion ,”Hope you won’t be too disappointed.”

Explaining to Alpha how he thought he could make them bend the knee had been one fucking tricky thing to do. It had taken a whole lot of effort for sure, talking his mouth off on how favorable it would be to have a bigger army while he smeared some more honey around her mouth and eventually, he felt like he might have persuaded her by topping her original plan of closing the roads a little off. He didn’t like what he had to do but it was necessary, the roads would have been closed either way and everything else just wouldn’t have stilled her thirst for blood. So right now, he was standing on a small cemented road that paved its way though the forest. A tree was blocking the street, one dead Hilltoper hanging from a tree beside the fallen one, their undead corpse growling and flailing its arm slightly while the rope cut into its throat. This one and all the others who’d hung on the other streets had been long dead before they’d gone up there, already killed last night when Beta had made his way to Alexandria and had killed another outpost on the way, recruiting new “guardians” for the horde in this night.  It had been seven in total, all wearing Hilltop’s armor, and he didn’t enjoy seeing particularly that guy in front of him up in that tree. He didn’t know the others, but the guy who was hanging from the tree there had been a Savior once, not a high ranking one but high enough that Negan have had a couple conversations with him during the time he’d ruled and enough to still remember the nickname he had for him: “Skinny Joe”, the counterpart to “Fat Joe” who’d had met his demise at Daryl’s hands. He wasn’t getting sentimental here, fuck no, but he’d be a liar if he’d say seeing one of his former loyal men in that tree would do nothing at all to him. Still, it was worth it as he glimpsed to his side and saw how Alpha nearly smiled satisfied, looking at the dangling corpse up there and that facilitated the feeling in him that his plan might work.  ”This was the last”, she said, the odd grin widening a little as she nodded to the skin freaks behind her and then back to Negan, “It is time to gather.” A half hour later, your mind was still occupied fully by Daryl and Negan as you walked through the wagons and stands within Hilltop, trying to find a way to distract yourself and simultaneously prepare for the battle.  Daryl hadn’t shook just an inch on your belief that Negan had a plan, nor on the belief that he was working towards destroying them from the inside, but the fact that Daryl thought he had merged into a full-blown whisperer bothered you unspeakably, not mentioning the side effect that soon, the whole rest of this community would think so as well.  You had no idea how this whole thing would go down tonight, if it would just be the herd or them as well, but if the later was true, first thing after Alpha and Beta people would point their weapons at would be him and there was nothing you’d be able to do to persuade them of the opposite.  No one of Hilltop’s head members would believe you that he was working against them, that if he was among them even tonight, it would be part of his plan to gather their trust.  That’s the way Negan thought, that was his type of strategy and all you could hope for was that Negan would be somewhere in the back, somewhere in safety. But that for sure depended on how deep he was in this whisperer misery as well. Negan was a sly fox, a charmer on top and he for sure knew how to handle people even if they were as fucked up as those skin freaks. Maybe he’d already made his way to the core of its ranks and hell, maybe he had tried to lessen this attack as well. Either way, there was no way you were gonna find that out before tonight, if at all and you first had to concentrate on surviving the next hours if you wanted to just have the chance to see him again. Sighing thickly you made your way into another stand, trying to stop your mind from wrapping itself around new confusing thoughts as you reached towards a sharpening stone. You’d get a machete, spear or whatever else they’d want you to use from hilltop, but if all things failed you’d still need a sharp knife and you couldn’t necessarily give that attribute to yours anymore. Grabbing the stone you made your way back to the mansion, hoping you’d find a free spot on its stairs as you winded yourself through the mass of people who were preparing their weapons as well, or were getting themselves warmed up until you finally got to the mansion’s porch that was filled with a couple of people, including Judith who was bowing over Daryl’s vest, some paint, brushed and a glass of paint daubed water sprawled around her. “Watcha doing?”, you asked as you sat down next to her onto the stairs, glimpsing at the part of the vest you could see from your side. “Painting uncle Daryl’s vest. I’m fixing the wing, I’m almost done”, she said, moving a little to reveal the part she’d been painting in a light blue that got now primped with some small white start at its end. “Looks great, sure he’s gonna love it”, you said, giving her a smile as you shifted a little over the wood, trying to get a little comfortable before you grabbed your knife and started to move the blade over the sharpening stone, just before you could see Judith stirring a little beside you before she moved a bit away from the vest and glanced at you. “Do you think Negan will hurt us?”, she asked, her voice trembling a little at the end, though you could hear that she was trying to keep it calm while a painful sting shot through you just hearing her question and you didn’t want to imagine how Negan would feel if he’d hear this now. “No, no he won’t”, you said, shaking your head softly and trying to keep the small smile on your face though you had a hard time doing so as you could feel the tension within you risking. “But he blocked the roads”, she mumbled, sadness filling her eyes a little more as she sat down next to you, moving the vest that looked finished by now next to her while you let out a small sigh. This was gonna get tricky. “Your uncle Daryl and I disagree on this but-”,you mumbled, halting as you tried to collect your thoughts and explain it to her in the right way,”I think he is trying to make them believe he’s on their side to help us take them down in the end. Like one of those double agents from the book you read some time ago.” “You think?”, she asked, her eyes growing a little more hopeful as she looked at you. “I’m sure”, you nodded, giving her a slightly bigger smile now before you let out a nervous but soft chuckle, trying to loosen yourself up to let that whole tension fall not only from you but her as well. Even if she was a tough kid, she was still a child and she shouldn’t have to worry about this as well beside the whole whisperer shit and tonight’s battle. ”C’mon you know him too, he sometimes has a bit odd ways to get to a goal. Remember his solutions to your math problems?” “Yeah, they were weird sometimes”,she nodded, laughing softly as he fumbled on the brush that was still in her hands. “Yeah”, you said, glimpsing down at her as you could gladly tell that she was looking much more relaxed than a couple moments ago,”See, he’s taking a special way to help us now too, just like he had very special ways to solve your math problems.” She nodded again, responding to the small laugh that left your lips, facilitated by the nervousness and tension that was still stuck within you before she nodded towards the vest, “I’ll give it to him now.” “Yeah, do that. Bet he’s gonna put it right on”, you said, giving her another smile as she stood up and grabbed the vest. “I hope so”, she said, glancing one more time at the painted wing before she headed inside, leaving you to get back to trying to distract yourself with the sharping stone. Dragging the blade along the stone you focused on it's slight twinkling in the evening sun, right before you glanced up as you heard footsteps walking right towards you. “You can shoot, right?”, you heard Diane ask as she got closer, holding a bow in one hand and a quiver with arrows in the other just before she reached you. “Yeah”, you nodded, stopping the dragging movements for a moment. “Good, we need another one in the back, would you join?” “Yes, sure”, you said, nodding once more as you laid the knife and the stone to your side so she could hand you both and just in the moment the wood of the bow smoothed against your palm and you gripped the belt of the quiver, a panicking voice echoed through the air and sent another shot of tension through your body within the matter of seconds. “The herd is coming!” Walking like a fucking dead asshole was harder than Negan had thought, especially when you had much more brain activity than those fuckers going on that allowed him to have thoughts and even worse, worries. He still believed that he might have persuaded Alpha with his tactics, but with her, you could never know for sure. The sky seemed to become darker with every slurfing step he took, looking through the holes of his damn mask to have a little bit of orientation while he tried to keep exactly those thoughts from taking his whole mind over. It was Hilltop. The odds that she was there were as fucking small as a fly’s sack. Hell, the odds that anybody else from Alexandria like Judith or Lydia were there was just as damn small.  He shouldn’t try to wrap his head around this shit anymore and just hope that things would work out as he intended, that they’d try to make them bend the knee and they’d use the right moment to attack or what fucking ever, just so this damn massacre wouldn’t start here and move to Alexandria in the end. And just as he tried to ban these thoughts out of his head, he heard the skin freaks starting their whispery chant again as they moved with the dead towards Hilltop. Night had fallen over Hilltop when you found yourself standing before its gates, with the bow in your hand, an arrow loosely clamped into its string while the leatherglove that smoothed against your skin allowed you to hold it securely. It was still pointed downwards for now, waiting for the moment the herd would appear but in these moments, there was an eerie silence, only disrupted by the trembling breath by everyone next to you and the echoes of the thousands of groans that came from the forest. Hilltop was prepared, that was the only thing that made your heart beat calm down a little as you glanced around yourself. At first, about two hundred meter away from your spot, there was an electrical line spanned by Eugene and Rosita this afternoon that would hopefully split the first walkers in two that would try to make their way towards you. Then, if this part would fail, and everybody knew that this moment would come earlier or later, the fence was the next step. It was Hilltops regular fence that protected the crops that were located behind you and in front of the gates, a quite study fence with wood pillars and a whole lot of branches and undergrowth in between that would cushion the walker masses at first and which had been strengthened over the last hours.  After that, the melee fighters were located, at first the ones with the medieval looking shields and their swords, directly behind them anyone else with a melee weapon, from spears to machetes, to morning stars like the one in Daryl’s hand right now. And then, there was your line, the ones with bows or slingshots like the one of Kelly, and melee weapons that were put on the ground beside you after the arrows would be gone. After that, only the next cushion zone of the crops followed for about fifty meters, and then the gates. You could feel the ground starting to quiver beneath your feet as the heard started to roll closer and the groans started to grow louder with every second, sending chills through your body as you gripped the wood of the bow tighter. Only a couple more moments. A shivering breath fell from your lips as you saw the first dead appearing in the dark right  as the first walker met the electrical line and sparked red sparks through the night as it burned through its throat and cut its rotting head off right from it’s neck. “It works”, you heard Yumiko mumbling beside you as you tried to keep the hope in you controlled as the first full line of dead met the line. More sparks flew, you could see the electricity burning  bright yellow lines into their bodies as they pressed against it, more and more while only a few lost their heads, while the taller majority pressed themselves only deeper into it, doing nothing more than burning their torsos. “Fuck”, you mumbled gulping, nearly too quiet for anyone else around you to hear as a load boom made you flinch back, right before you had to watch the electrical line break down into pieces as it sunk to the ground and let the dead march towards you without anything stopping them anymore. “Formation!”, you could hear Aaron scream through the night, immediately followed by the metallic booms of the rising shields clicking against one another while you gulped thickly and grabbed the bow in your hands even tighter, enough for your knuckles to turn pale as your heart beated up into your throat.  “On my command, splitting ranks!”, you heard him scream again, cut off for a moment by the loud groans of the dead before his voice echoed once again through the night,”And break!” The first group split on his command, marching towards the fence as the first dead were only a couple feet away from it anymore and you glanced to your side, watching as the others started to nod to each other. “Now”, you heard Yumiko call out beside you, shooting another wave of adrenaline through your body as you pushed the bow forward, adjusted the grip on the string before pulling it back until your leather clad fingers rested against your cheek and the arrow darted into the walker mess, before you let it go and watched it shooting into the ranks of the dead. Grab a new arrow, span it into the string, bow into the front, pull the string back, adjust and release.  That’s what you did over and over again, almost mechanically as you watched the others fighting in the front, saw their weapons dive into the rotting heads, smashing skulls while more walkers pushed into the limp bodies that were hanging into the branches. You could feel yourself tensing more with each shot, could feel the pulling of the string tearing on your arm’s muscles while the adrenaline in your body kept you going, forcing you to near the edge to switch into the survival mode. Breathing heavily you reached back into the quiver, feeling sick by the thought that you didn’t even had that many left, especially with the massed of walkers surrounding the fences that wouldn’t be stopped by the couple arrows you had left. And just as you moved the arrow to clip its end into the string, your eyes captured  handball sized objects flying through the dark towards the fences, exploding into uncountable splatters as they crashed into the walkers, the fence and the melee fighters. Furrowing your brows you stared for a moment at the scene, at the splatters that looked like water at the first glance but that were something completely different judging from the smell that made its way through to you. It was smelling like freshly cut down trees but stronger, almost as strong as those little tree shaped air freshener you could hang into the front of your car and whose smell wouldn’t even leave your nose until you’d gotten out of the car. “Smells like a Christmas tree!”, you could hear Jerry scream in the front, stabbing another walker while he looked like he was drained in the liquid and before you could hear anybody else saying something else, your eyes caught something bright flying through the night sky, a flaming arrow that suddenly crushed into the walkers in front of the fence. Within a millisecond a ball of fire roared through the dead, nearly exploding part of the fence as a blood freezing scream let you flinch. Your fingers gripped the bow tighter as you suddenly saw one of the fighters tumbling burning away from the fence, his whole body covered in flames as he flailed his arms around himself before he crushed against the ground and let the tension within you to skyrocket once more. “It's like gasoline!”, you heard Jerry scream from the fence as you tried to pull yourself together and drag your glance from the man who started to stop moving back to your bow, before forcing yourself to go back to the old procedure and shoot another arrow into the mass.  Even if you could just kill one at a time, it was better than nothing. You could feel your ribcage tightening as you reached for another one over and over again, trying to help the people in the front as best as you could before you suddenly grabbed into emptiness in your quiver and had to realize that you’d just shot your last arrow. ”Fuck”, you cursed underneath your breath as you glanced at the empty quiver, gulping thickly just in the very moment you heard a dangerous cracking coming from the fence. Shooting your glance back up you could see the first Walkers starting to break through, heard screams of Daryl and Aaron for everyone to fall back and stop the fight at the fence, just before the first dead forced their way successfully through the fence. Fuck. Fucking fuckity fuck shit. Negan couldn’t think much more than in curses as groans of the herd sounded loudly through the air while he had to watch the dead and the fences of hilltop blow up in flames from afar. He hadn’t persuaded her, this fuck there, that wasn’t trying to make someone bend the knee, that crap was meant to kill them and nothing else. She’d played him, pretending as if she’d listen to him, that fucking skin freak had played him. Feeling the anger in him rising he tried to keep himself controlled from the outside and tried to get a look at the fight hilltop was fighting in these moments, still trying to persuade himself that his girl wasn’t anywhere in there, trying to tell himself how damn close to zero the odds were over and over again. He couldn’t judge how well they did from his position on the field behind the heard, all he could tell was that they were still fighting and right now, that was a good sign. Fuck, even if none of the people he could worry about were in there, Alexandria still needed Hilltop to fight these skin freaks, losing that community would be a fucking disaster. Uncomfortably he glanced to his side, watching as Alpha gathered a small group of whisperers around a fire before she moved a little away from them to take a look at Hilltop, giving him enough space to approach her. Gulping his anger away the best he could to not let it shimmer through before he walked towards her, putting a slight grin on his face as soon as she caught him. “I thought you wanted them to join us”, he said, his voice calm and not in any way resembling the anger within him as he watched her beginning to smile the fucking oddly again while she slowly stepped closer. “They will”, she said, moving even closer as she nearly bored her glance into his eyes,”As part of my horde.” Fuck. He should’ve known, he should’ve fucking known and done more, he should’ve done more to persuade her. “Holy shit”, he chuckled, overplaying the desperation and frustration that started to make its home in his body, while he knew that right now, it was too late for him to intervene. Everything else would make him look suspicious, everything else could cost him his head. “You are a badass”, he instead added, grinning widely at her in hopes to charm her a little more and cover up what he was actually feeling in these moments, to have the chance to lead her into another direction next chance he got, hopefully with more success. “This is yours”, he heard her say in the next moment, watching as she waved another whisperer over who carried a bow in his hands next to his own, “You will need it now.” This was a test now, wasn't it? He’d asked her again about letting them bend the knee so she tested him if he would question her again or if he would obey, and right now he hadn’t much of option than do the later if he didn’t want to risk to blow his cover just the tiniest bit. So he took the bow into his hands and let her lead him and the other skin freak towards the fire, spanned one of the prepared arrows that had some tree sap soaked cloths attached to its shaft into the string and watched as they passed the flame from one arrow to another, like some STD in a fucking college fraternity.  ”Up high, towards the walls”, he heard Alpha say, feeling the tension within him rising with every second as he gulped thickly and moved the bow up, dragging the string back as he could feel his heart pounding against his ripcage and could feel nausea starting to claw at his throat while he tried to get his mind under control. She wasn’t there. She wasn’t there. She was not fucking there. And then, he let go. Screams, groans and desperate calls echoed through the air, mixing into an eerie symphony as you could see the herd starting to further break the fences, forcing the fear and survival instinct in you to skyrocket in the very moment the dead grabbed the first Hilltopers that had been fighting them only seconds ago. “They're already dead! Let's go!”, a voice screamed through the dark, mixing with calls to just let them break through as the first melee fighters started to run towards your line, waving for you all to move towards the gates. ”Move inside!”, you heard Daryl scream, waving towards you as you dropped the bow and the empty quiver from your shoulder before the adrenaline pushed you to start running as fast as your feet could carry you. Panting you found yourself within the others, within the running group that fled like animals from a wildfire before you suddenly saw some bright points shooting through the dark above you, right before the arrows that carried them landed into Hilltops walls, setting them aflame in the matter of seconds while your whole body started to wrench in fear and shock, forcing your heart to pound against your chest as if it tried to escape while a wave of fright induced nausea washed over you and dared to put a relentless tension over your body. Walkers were coming from the back and the sides, flames were eating up Hilltops walls in the front and soared into the sky. There was no way out.

(If you would like to be tagged, just let me know! The gif isn’t mine/ it was originally posted by dancing-at-the-funeralparty)

#the walking dead #negan #twd #the walking dead imagine #negan imagine #negan x reader #twd imagine #negan imagines #twd imagines #twd 10x11 #the walking dead imagines #nts #negan's network #negan fic #negan series #negan 10x11 #negan angst #twd negan #twd fic #twd series #thewalkingdead-imagines #morning star #10x11 #the walking dead 10x11

[yanara126-writing]

The Adventures of Hildraed Dawnsbane - Watching and Fucking Morals (4/?)

Farmer, Pirate, Menace, Captain, Dawnsbane. Hildraed has many titles, she really could have lived well without Watcher.

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Read here or on Ao3. (1827 words)

Have fun! Comments always welcome! :)

I recommend listening to this song, as it was the inspiration for the fever trip that made me wright this. It’s really good, I promise.^^

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Hildraed was mad. And she hated this town. Why was she even still here? Because fucking damnit she felt bad for these people. It had started with the damn cook, continued with the poor abused woman (had the fucker not been dead she’d have killed him herself) And then there was the blacksmith who’d promised her a discount, Aufra with her probably soulless baby (not that she’d told her that), and then the goddamn farmers. Because it always came down to farmers, didn’t it? And now she was slouching back in the inn, nursing some bad ale. And the stupid hunk was smiling at her. Fuck him. Eh, maybe later.

Aloth was far better to focus on, with his companionable grouchiness.

With a more desperate than enthusiastic swing she drained her cup and it slammed it down again, trying to pretend the ale wasn’t more water than alcohol.

“I hate this place.” Edér’s stupid grin only got wider. Hildraed glared some more at the cup. She wasn’t drunk enough for this.

“Does that mean we can finally leave?” Hildraed didn’t miss the desperation in Aloth’s tone and almost felt bad for him. Only almost though, she felt way worse for herself.

“Yeah. Yeah we can. In fact, we will right now.” Originally she’d intended to stay one more night and leave in the morning, but if she had to continue seeing Edér’s stupid, satisfied smirk she was going to punch him after all. She slammed a few coins on the table, not bothering with counting out the exact amount, grabbed her bag and stomped out the door. Behind her she could hear her new companions scrambling to finish their own drinks and hurry after her.

Outside she had mercy on them and waited a bit for them to catch up, grinning again at Aloth’s relieved sigh. It was too easy to play him. She’d have to teach him a bit to avoid having him be all to easy to manipulate.

Edér apparently wasn’t in quite as much of a hurry, and while waiting for his heavy footsteps to join them, Hildraed found her attention wandering through the miserable town. And of course, her gaze once again landed on the tree. Ever since her first meeting with the dwarf woman she drifted back to the fucking tree. There were no more souls left there, she’d checked far more than she would ever admit, and still her steps kept pulling her back there. And so now again.

The stench was in her nose before she was even aware what she was doing. Dangling, rotting limbs filled her vision as she stared up, wood and flesh melting together. All around her there were purple shimmers, whisperings that drover her mad all around the clock, but looking up there there was nothing, and somehow that was worse. She’d seen hangings before of course. She’d seen people she’d known and even liked hang much the same way. But something about this made her angrier.

This was messy. This wasn’t justice, it was a blood rage. The pirates she’d seen hung had known the risks. Perhaps they hadn’t deserved it either, some had been good people, some had absolutely asked for it, but all of them known. These people up in the tree had just lived, had perhaps never broken a law in their lives, had been punished for suffering a tragedy.

A hand landed on her shoulder and Hildraed flinched, cursing herself for losing focus. That was dangerous at the best of times, which this was not. Just this time the universe seemed to forgive her mistake though, and Edér stood next to her, chewing on his pipe. He didn’t say anything, only stood there, looking up as well, his rough hand, marred much like her own, on her shoulder.

Hildraed didn’t know what triggered it, maybe it was the sleep deprivation, maybe the weight of the last few days were finally drowning her, maybe it was that thrice-damned look of defeat in his eyes, but something in her mind clicked into place and she knew what she still had to do here. It was a terrible idea, would bare way too much to these people she barely knew, but she had to nonetheless.

“You know what my favourite song is? T’s about a boat.” Edér glanced at her, surprised and confused, but still amused.

“Don’t tell me you’re getting sentimental now? I thought you don’t do empathy?”

“Shut up, I’m drunk.” No she wasn’t, she hadn’t drunk enough of the water ale for that, but he didn’t need to know that.

“No, you’re not.” Well so much for her reputation then. She narrowed her eyes at him, glaring with all the intensity she could muster through all the aches of her body and constant buzz of soul fizzles pressing against her new senses.

“You. I don’t like you.” That didn’t seem to intimidate him at all, if anything he just got softer. Hildraed sighed and looked away again. What crew had she gotten herself here? One who was easier to play than a fiddle but had a wrong string and one who already laughed at her. And still…

“My mom always sang it when we were down on our luck. It’s about a crew saving their boat after it already sank. It was the first chant I learnt. I’ve sung it every time the universe hated me especially.” It had carried her through her 35 years of life even when nothing else had. She’d shared it every time she’d sung it, just as she’d been taught. This one thing wasn’t something to keep to herself. She had no intention of sharing anything else, the secret of her past would die with her as far she was concerned, but this one thing she’d keep throwing into the world as often as necessary. And right now it was very necessary.

With another look at Edér, and not the fucking tree, she turned around and stalked out of the pit. Aloth was standing a bit away in the shadow of a wall, trying to keep himself out of the public eye. Hildraed sat down not far from him at the edge of the pit and pulled her old lute from her back. She gave it a loving pat, before starting to pluck the strings in a familiar tune. Behind she could hear Aloth shift a little closer, in front of her could see Edér settling down next to her, but she ignored both of them.

“She went down last mid-winter in a pouring driving rain…” It had been a while since she’d last played it, and the familiar notes rang something deep in her, tugging at places within herself that she didn’t have a name for before.

“There were just us five aboard her when she finally was awash

We'd worked like hell to save her, all heedless of the cost…” It had taken her own boat to really understand it. In her youth it had been a nice story, and good tune with an inspirational message. Now as an adult it meant so much more. Her fingers danced over the strings with more elegance than she’d been able to work up in weeks, her foot tapped the rhythm, her body swayed with waves that weren’t there, her mouth formed the words that had accompanied her for so long.

“But we talked of her all winter, some days around the clock,

For she's worth a quarter million, just floatin’ at the dock

And with every jar that hit the bar, we swore we would remain…” Another foot joined in the rhythm, but Hildraed didn’t look up. Chanting was always exhilarating, but this was special in another way. She felt the words reverberate around her, felt souls stirring as the story continued to follow the melody. There was a clarity that had never been there before, an awareness that had nothing and everything to do with this song so dear to her. More souls were drawn closer, and it felt like drowning in life.

“All spring, now, we've been with her on a barge lent by a friend

Three dives a day in hard hat suit and twice I've had the bends

Thank God it's only sixty feet and the currents here are slow

Or I'd never have the strength to go below

But we've patched her rents, stopped her vents, dogged hatch and porthole down

Put cables to her, 'fore and aft and girded her around

Tomorrow, noon, we hit the air and then take up the strain…” There were people all around now, and somewhere the logical part of Hildraed knew she needed to be careful, to be aware of everyone around her, to not let herself be caught off-guard again. Unfortunately, that part was buried deep under the emotions and sensations flooding everything else. At this point she wasn’t sure what was hers anymore, she just kept playing and singing, surrounded by more whispers than ever. Whispers of pasts, of uncertain futures.

“And you, to whom adversity has dealt a mortal blow

With smiling bastards lying to you everywhere you go

Turn to, and put out all your strength of arm and heart and brain

And like the Mary Ellyn Carter, rise again!

Rise again, rise again; though your heart it be broken

And life about to end

No matter what you've lost, be it a home, a love, a friend

Like the Mary Ellyn Carter, rise again!”

She played the final cord, sung the final tune, and her fingers and tongue stilled. The whispers were still there, ringing loudly in her ears and rising to a crescendo, making her head hurt even more- Wait, no, that was clapping. A few hands clapping around her, and Hildraed finally looked up, eyes a little bit clearer now. It wasn’t as many people as she’d thought, a few guests from the inn, a few people from the surrounding houses. And Hildraed stared.

It wasn’t so much that she minded the audience, quite the opposite really, she’d always enjoyed hogging people’s attention. But that had been before this stupid shit. Before she’d started noticing way too fucking much, while losing focus of everything else.

But then, as it always was, it didn’t take too long for the people to notice that the show was over, and they dispersed again, throwing strange looks in her direction that she didn’t bother to notice. She’d be gone now anyway, let them think what they want.

In the end only two were left, one on each side, though when Aloth moved next to her she couldn’t say. Her head still hurt, she was confused more than ever, and she still hated this place, and yet she felt a little lighter now. The tree was still there, and it was still abominable, but maybe now she could finally stop looking at it.

And maybe now they could finally fuck off.

#Pillars of Eternity #writing #Watcher Hildraed #Edér Teylecg #Aloth Corfiser #fanfiction #singing #the mary ellen carter #derina harvey band #'t's a good song

[cutie1365]

Hello Detective Chapter 68

Pairing: Sherlock x Reader

Word Count: 3.1k

A/N: This is my first update in over a year, wow. Please comment and let me know what you think, its the kind words y’all leave that motivate me to keep writing!

Masterlist in my bio, taglist in the reblog

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“Ms. Gregson, I’ve brought your dress.” Your assistant entered your office and held up a garment bag.

“Dress?” You muttered, your eyes not leaving the papers in front of you, your work completely distracting you. Who knew missile threats lead to so much paperwork.

“For the wedding ma’am. Your driver is ready whenever you are.” He explained, snapping you out of your trance.

“Ok, I’m almost done here.” You informed him, pointing to the door for him to hang your dress.

Once you gathered your papers and notes together to be sent off to Mycroft, you slipped into your tastefully simple dress. You were a lover of fashion from birth, most likely due to your mother being a dress designer, but you knew it was a total faux pas to outshine a bride at a wedding. So you opted for a simple spring colored dress.

The drive to the venue was about an hour outside of London, and you were grateful for an escape from the city. The long trip gave you an opportunity to take care of some work and update Mycroft on the events of the morning.

As you were nearing your destination you received a text from Sherlock.

Service is over, not as entirely painful as I expected. The pictures... now that’s another story.

-SH

You chuckled to yourself, after all this time he still signs his initials with every text. You’re convinced that it’s a preset in his phone that he secretly has no idea how to change, but of course he’d never admit that.

It’s almost over, you attempted to reassure him, I’m in the car now, I’ll be there soon. Xx

When you arrived everyone was in the reception hall milling about and visiting. You spotted Sherlock from behind, chatting with a woman in a lilac bridesmaid dress. You approached him and laid a hand on his arm to get his attention.

“Hi.” He whipped around and smiled, happy to see you. He placed a gentle kiss on your cheek. Either this whole wedding thing was torture or he was more nervous about his speech than you thought.

“Sorry I’m late.” You apologized.

“You’re here now.” He nodded, grateful for your presence.

“That I am,” You suddenly realized you had interrupted their conversation and turned to apologize to the bridesmaid, “Oh I’m sorry-.”

You turned to who he was talking to, ready to apologize, when your face went flush. Your smile faltered for just a moment, long enough for Sherlock to clock your reaction.

“Hello Ms. Gregson,” Janine said with a cheery smile.

“H-hi Janine.” You tried to recover and smile politely.

“Sherlock here’s been trying to find me a suitable date.” She explained, you were still in shock that she was here, considering your last encounter was her boss blackmailing you.

“Is he now? Well, I don’t doubt he’ll find you a good match, he’s very observant,” You said as you spotted Greg off sitting at a table with a drink in his hand, “I’ll let you two get back to it.”

You politely excused yourself, laying a hand on Sherlock’s arm again as you passed him, giving him a little squeeze.

“Hello there,” You smirked at Greg. He hadn’t expected you to make it, he lit up at your arrival.

“Look who decided to show up!” He jumps up and hugs you.

“That bad, eh?” You laugh and point down to his glass.

“Oh no, it was lovely, just not a big wedding person.” He explained, since he and his wife split you could understand why this might not be the happiest of reminders for him.

You look down at the table and see you’ve been seated next to him.

“Looks like we’re stuck together,” You smiled and pointed to the name plate next to him.

“That we are,” He smiles, taking another sip of his drink.

“Well I better go congratulate the happy couple, I’ll be back.” You smile, and go off to find John and Mary.

You see them standing together in the center of the room and make your way towards them, you see Sherlock doing the same.

“John!” You call to him with a wave, getting their attention.

“You made it!” He smiled, both of them turning to you.

“Wouldn’t miss this for the world.” You greeted and hugged both of them.

“Our wedding or Sherlock’s speech?” John smirked. Sherlock, who now stood by your side raised a brow, he didn’t like that comment.

“Oh hush,” You chuckled, “Mary you looked beautiful.”

“Oh thank you, I’m glad we could pull you away from the office for a few hours at least.” She placed a loving hand on your arm. You remembered the first time you met her at the doctor's office. You were surprised you could even remember her, consider there were about a million things running through your mind at that time. Things were so complicated then, well in your line of work things were always going to be complicated.

“Yes, just be glad I dumped my work onto Mycroft to keep him busy.” You smirked, earning a laugh.

Suddenly a bell rang, signaling dinner was to be served and you all were to make your way to your seats.

“Hey-” You grabbed Sherlock’s hand as everyone shuffled around you. You knew this would be the last chance you got to talk to him before his speech.

“It’s going to be fine. You’re ready.” You tried to reassure him, placing a hand on his cheek. You centered him and calmed him. He placed his hand over yours, leaning into it for a moment before nodding.

“Thank you.” He removed your hand and kissed it gently, squeezing it lightly before he turned to leave.

He remembered your words from earlier as he sat down at the front table with Mary, John and the bridesmaids, you’re Sherlock Holmes, you’ve faced demons and the devil himself, a little speech isn’t going to kill you.

You took your seat the corner table by the door between Mrs. Hudson and Lestrade. You were conveniently across from Molly and her Sherlock-wanna-be boyfriend... fiance? You glanced down at her ring.

After dinner and some light conversation, it was finally time for Sherlock’s speech, and you were a little nervous.

“Ladies and gentlemen, family and friends... and others... also-” He was too in his head, examining and deducing the room instead of focusing on his speech,

“The telegrams.” You mouthed to him as his eyes finally landed on you in the sea of people. He seemed to realize what you were mouthing.

“Right. First things first. Telegrams. Well, they’re not actually telegrams we just call them telegrams, I don’t know why. Wedding tradition, because we don’t have enough of that already, apparently.” He rambled and you smiled shaking your head, this wasn’t exactly what you meant when you said be yourself.

He began to read them, and there was something so funny to you about Sherlock saying such gushing words, they sounded so foreign.

“Mary lots of love... oh.” Sherlock stopped for a moment, John looked up to him questioningly as he continued, “poppet.”

This earned a laugh from everyone. Now that was a word you’d never thought would come out of Sherlock’s mouth.

You thought it was odd for this telegram to only be directed at Mary, no mention of John. The previous ones addressed them both.

“Oodles of love and heaps of good wishes from Cam. Wish your family could have seen this.” You noticed Mary’s reaction, something was wrong. No one reacts like that to these happy little notes. And you’d seen Sherlock obsessing over the guest list, there were no Cams on it.

Meaning- it had to be initials. Three words suddenly jumped into your mind:

Charles Augustus Magnussen

Sherlock begins to tell the funny story about John asking him to be his best man, a day which you vividly remember due to the fact that you almost drank from a cup inhabited by an eyeball, one of Sherlock's experiments.

You were distracted, this couldn’t be a coincidence. First Janine and now Magnusen. This nearly confirmed your earlier suspicions that Mary might have been the target of John’s Guy Fawkes night attack. And it was highly suspicious that there was zero trace of her in the intelligence databases. Everyone’s got a file, even ordinary people if not just a birth certificate. You know she was employed, hell you’d seen her at work, she should at least have an employers file, but nothing.

By the time you tune back in Sherlock was telling the story of the Bloody Guardsman. You hoped no one had noticed you’d tuned out for who knows how long. You couldn't shake the feeling that Mary was hiding something deeper. We all have secrets, and as someone with a fair few and a lot of red in your ledger you knew a thing or two about trying to wipe it clean and start fresh. A whole new life. Is that what she’s doing here? What pushed her to do this, clearly something of that magnitude would not be looked upon lightly. You wanted to get to the bottom of this, but now is not the time.

You couldn’t get the idea out of your mind, you needed answers now. It's a good thing your table was next to the door and you could slip out largely unseen. Sherlock seemed to be doing a good job on his speech, people like detective stories. You won’t be missed. And a government job in charge of the safety of all British citizens was a pretty good alibi if anyone asked why you slipped away, work would be your excuse.

You made your way towards the seating area outside of the water closets near the kitchen door. You began to search everything you have on Mary, Magnusen, and Janine. MI5, MI6 every database you have access to. You’re in a deep dive when a waiter approaches you.

“Would you like something to drink?” He offered, pulling you from your train of thought. He was holding a tray with champagne.

“No I think I’m ok,” You smiled, looking back down to your phone.

“You sure? You look like you’ve had a long day.” He says politely.

“On second thought...” You smile and accept. Taking a sip as he returns into the kitchen. You return to the file on your phone, Magnussen has a lot of fingers in a lot of pies, but nothing explains his connection to Mary.

There had to be one, you were so frustrated that your searches were not fruitful.

Before you realized it, the words on the page were turning fuzzy. You glanced back at the champagne glass, raising it to your eyes to examine it... had you been drugged? Your hands began to shake and the glass dropped from your hands, shattering. You tried to remember the face of the waiter but it was a blur.

You stood quickly, you knew you had to get this out of your system. You glanced to the tray near the kitchen door and grabbed an empty glass and salt shaker. But it was too late. You collapsed as you tried to make your way towards the bathroom.

Back in the reception hall Sherlock began his Q&A portion of his story. As he asks Lestrade for his theory on the Bloody Guardsman case he noticed your absence. He sees the empty chair beside him, he knew something was off about you earlier when you’d met Janine. How could you two know each other? Even he’d just met her. He momentarily writes your absence off as a work emergency.

He quickly began to realize that the Mayfly Man was here today as he went over the case again in his mind. Something was about to happen, and that made your absence all the more suspicious.

“Who could you only kill at a wedding?” Sherlock asked as he made his rounds around the room, biding his time to solve the case and keep control of the room. You immediately came to mind because of your government position, but he ruled you out due to your numerous public appearances both formally and casually.

Lock this place down.

He texted Lestrade who quickly jumped to action, running into the hall.

The first thing he noticed was the shattered glass and a limp hand on the floor behind the seating area near the loo.

“Oh God, Y/N.” He rushed to you, checking your vitals.

Sherlock runs into the hall with John, Mary, and Molly on his tail.

“I thought you were locking the place down.” Sherlock asked in a scolding manner before his eyes landed on you and his heart dropped.

“I don’t know what happened.” Greg tried to explain but Sherlock quickly cut him off.

“She was drugged.” He pointed to the salt shaker and empty glass, what would have been used in an attempt to rid your system of the chemicals. But you were too late.

John checked your vitals and confirmed that you were just unconscious. He knew now this case meant life or death, and he didn’t have much time.

“Someone did this to distract me from solving the case in time, we have to go. Lestrade go get the photographer, he shouldn’t be too far now. Molly I need you to wait with her, please!” He yelled from down the hall as the trio began to make their way to Major Sholto’s room.

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When you wake up Sherlock is kneeling next to you, your head in his hands.

“Y/N... can you hear me?” He asked frantically, he was worried. He didn’t know what kind of drug you’d been given.

“You’re yelling, so yes.” You muttered, wincing slightly.

“Oh thank god.” He sighed, helping you to sit up on the couch.

“What happened?” You asked.

“Mayfly Man, he was working his way up to Sholto. The Bloody Guardsman was a practice round.” He explained, pointing over to the man Lestrade was interrogating who was handcuffed to a luggage rack. You recognized him as the waiter who gave you the drink.

“He was pretending to be a waiter.” You explained.

“He was the photographer, he must have thought you’d put a damper on his plans. Wanted to get you out of the way, or at the very least serve as a distraction for me.” Sherlock explained and you nodded in understanding.

“And did it work? Is Sholto ok?” You asked.

“He’s on the way to the hospital but he was stable.” Sherlock explained and you were relieved.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Sherlock pressed.

“Oh please, not the first time I've been poisoned,” You smiled, earning a concerned look from Sherlock.

“Still.” He pressed.

“Im fine. Promise.” You smile, placing a hand on his knee.

In all the commotion you forgot what you came out here to do in the first place. Any thoughts of Magnussen and Mary and Janine were far from you now.

“Isn’t it time for your song?” You asked Sherlock, referring to his waltz you’d been forced to road test.

“Yes, but you need to rest. Ten minutes ago you were unconscious.” He said with a protective tone.

“I’m not missing their first dance, I can rest after.” You pushed and he agreed reluctantly.

Everyone made their way onto the dancefloor and made way for the newlyweds.

Sherlock began to play as they waltzed, they looked happy. You smiled as you leaned against the wall to steady yourself. Things were a little fuzzy, but you were fine. How has this become your new normal?, you thought to yourself shaking your head.

Sherlock’s song was even more beautiful than his recording from earlier. You loved when he played the violin, there was something so calming and soothing about it. You swore he could solve all of your problems with one note.

After he played and gave an apology for the commotion earlier, you saw him make his way towards John and Mary before they shooed him away with a smile. Had he just revealed that they were pregnant? Leave it to Sherlock to know before John, a doctor.

“Lets get some air.” Sherlock whispered in your ear once he had approached you, pulling you from the loud ballroom.

You followed him into the cool night air, the darkness surrounding the two of you. You were alone, the two of you against the world.

“This isn’t exactly how I expected today to go.” You chuckled as you made it to a faintly lit courtyard outside. You could see the flashing lights from inside and the faint beat of the music.

“Who would have guessed.” He laughed, shaking his head and pulling you closer to him. The two of you swaying slightly in a dance, in your own little world.

“Sherlock Holmes, can you not go one day without saving a life or two.” You smirked, laying your head against his chest.  

“You’re the one that has saved me.” He spoke, his tone more serious than a moment ago.

“Well that’s incredibly cheesy, but I’ll let it slide.” You teased.

The two of you had stopped dancing, but Sherlock was still holding you as if he never wanted to let you go.

“Im serious Y/N. You, you came into my life and you made everything better. I’m excited to get up in the morning, I’m excited to live, because I know you’ll be by my side. You've taught me how to love, and I never want to live another day without you by my side.” Sherlock says in a serious tone, bending down to get on one knee.

“Sherlock...” Your jaw drops, and you glance back towards the party. On John and Marys wedding day?, You thought.

“And I know what you’re thinking... it’s past midnight, not John and Mary’s day anymore.” He smiled, you hadn’t even notice him slip a ring box out of his coat pocket.

“Our day.” You smile, as a tear slips down your cheek.

“Our day, just us.” He nods, smiling just as wide as you bent down to kiss him.

“I am going to need verbal confirmation here, Y/N.” He asks as you pull apart, he's still on one knee. You laugh as more tears spill slowly.

“Yes, yes.” You cry as he slips the ring on your finger.

You jump into his arms as he stands up, catching him a little off guard, causing him to laugh.

“Just me and you...” You whispered.

“Against the rest of the world.” Sherlock finished your thought, tilting your chin up to kiss you once more.

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Thank you for reading!

Please let me know what you think!

Feedback is more important than you know.

Hope this was worth the one year wait ;)

Taglist in the reblog

#sherlock #sherlock bbc #sherlock x reader #sherlock imagine #sherlock imagines #sherlock holmes #sherlock holmes imagine #sherlock holmes imagines #sherlock holmes x reader #reader insert #marvel #cutie1365 #hello detective #john watson #reader x sherlock #john watson x reader #john watson imagine #john watson imagines #benedict cumberbatch #benedict cumberbatch imagine #benedict cumberbatch imagines #benedict x reader #benedict imagine #benedict cumberbatch x reader #benedict #writing #series #long fic #fanfiction #long fanfic

[copias-thrall]

Now What?

Our heroes thought they smoothed out the bumps to What They Were, but as it turns out, being in a relationship means *gulp* intimacy …

(Part 1; Part 2; Interlude 0)

You lean into the mirror—creating your favored doll eye—as the tinny noise of your Bitches Night Out playlist sounds from your phone. You and Mary are going out for some beers at O’Reilly’s since both of you have the night free and nothing to do the next day. Mary sits on the toilet seat going through your makeup bag. Every so often, he takes an item out, opens it, and does a smudge on the back of his hand.

You tsk at yourself when your hand wobbles and you fuck up a line. Mary looks up at you—then his eyes travel down to your derrière. You’re wearing your denim mini over thigh-length lace leggings, and it’s struggling to cover your ample ass, bent over as you are.

*public sex; dirty talk; brief homophobic language; consensual degradation; mentions of past emotional manipulation*

“Eyes up top, mister,” you say as you lick your finger to erase the wiggly bit under your eye. You already had to institute a “no-touching” rule, otherwise the two of you would never make it out of here. Mary loves the feel of you unrestricted though cotton—his band tees, hoodies, loungewear—and on any given night his roving hands are apt to start something. But you dressed up in what he calls your “fancy shit” seems to incite his lust on a very different level—so you wouldn’t put it past his roving eyes to spark something as well.

“You’re so hot when you want to be,” he says

You turn on the faucet to wet your hand, then flick it in Mary’s face. He sputters and ducks before he remembers he doesn’t care. He’s not in his stage cake, but he still wears a light dusting of white face powder and his skull accents. Instead of the blood dripping down his whole face, he has it tipping his forelock.

He grumps at you, but you just cackle. “I swear you’re half cat.”

“Whatever. Are you almost done? We’re gonna miss $5 Buds.”

“Yeah,” you say as you turn your head to-and-fro to assess the symmetry. “Just gotta put my lips on.” You hold out your hand for your makeup bag, but Mary hands you the burgundy tube.

“This one.”

“Mmm, isn’t this a little 90′s?”

His eyes sweep over you again and his hand indicates the NIN’s Downward Spiral shirt you’re wearing that you altered to tie in front.

“Aren’t you a little 90′s?”

“Point.” You take the tube and apply a dab on the center of each lip. Then you smear the color to each side with your finger. Through the mirror, your eyes linger on Mary’s plump lips filled in with a dull red instead of his usual black.

“Fuck, I’d kill for your lips.”

He mashes them together. “Is that why you’re always trying to bite them off?”

It’s true: you tend to fixate wholly on his lips sometimes when you’re making out. You give an exaggerated, dreamy sigh.

“They’re just so nice. Full, plump, well defined …”

“Weirdo.”

You shuffle over toward him and straddle his lap. Thumbing his bottom lip, you say, “I don’t usually hear you complaining.”

Mary leans back into the tank, his arms draping over it casually. “You’re breaking your own rule.”

Leaning in close you say, “I said you weren’t allowed to touch me.”

You slide a hand under his t-shirt—the skin of his torso warm and smooth—and tilt your head as if to kiss him. His eyes flutter shut, and that’s when you tilt your head back up.

“Hey, can we play?”

Mary’s eyes snap back open, and he lets out a sigh of exasperation.

“You’re a fucking tease, you know that?”

You grab his jaw.

“Can. We. Play.”

His eyes cast down.

“I don’t know, Suey. I really don’t feel like spending the whole night wondering if my dick’s gonna explode.”

You pat his cheek. “That’s ok, Mare Bear. Thank you for telling me.”

He turns to nip at your palm. “Some other night, k?”

You lean back in and actually kiss him—a short and sweet thing.

“I was thinking about something else, anyway.” You thumb his lip again. “Wanna see your lips all full and puffy. Wanna paint them with my lip gloss—have you wear it all night.”

“Is that … it?”

“Well—you can’t wipe it off, and if it gets smudged, I reapply.”

“And what do I get?” he asks as he gives a small roll of his hips. “Thought I was gonna get lucky later anyway.”

You straighten up. “What you’ll get is knowing that you’re my very good boy and that you have pleased me very much.” You smooth at a blackened eyebrow of his. “Don’t you like it when you’ve followed the rules and done a good job?”

Mary’s eyes are round and his pupils dilated. “Yeah. Yeah, ok.”

“Mmm,” you hum as you lightly sweep your hand over his stiff hair. “So good already. What a good job you’ve done keeping your hands to yourself.”

His eyes shine, and he says, “It’s easy being good for you.”

Mary and his inexplicable softness. 

“Yeah, well. Let’s get that lipstick on you.”

After gently wiping off his matte with a square of toilet paper, you rummage through your makeup bag for the ridiculous gloss you got as a sample with the purchase of something or other. It’s wet and shiny with a glittery sheen to it—and some kind of chemical that supposedly plumps your lips. The first and only time you’d worn it, your friend told you that it made your mouth look like a wet vagina. It makes Mary’s lips look like a delicacy you want to consume as an entrée at a ridiculously expensive French restaurant. With a white wine pairing or some shit.

He rubs them together experimentally. “Sticky.”

“Yeah, it’s not the kiss-proof kind, so don’t wipe at it.”

You admire you work for another beat, then have an idea.

“Wait—hold on …”

You reach for your phone, then start poking through the apps. He’s assessing his lips in one of your small compacts when you finally have your camera app ready.

“Uh …” he says.

“You have your porn, I have mine.”

“Whatever. I’m pretty sure my cum lips look better.”

You don’t really notice anyone on the street that looks twice at Mary—but then again, he’s in full demonsona, and most passersby try not to look directly at him. (Apparently he gets fewer freakouts when you’re on his arm, but that’s just because they don’t know I’m the one keeping you in line, Suey.)

It’s embarrassing the amount of ownership you feel over Mary when the two of you go anywhere—like he’s a feather in your cap and not your autonomous boyfriend. But there’s just something about having this dramatic boy—in his makeup and leather jacket—on your arm and deferring to you that makes you feel powerful. It doesn’t help that he enjoys playing the part of your attack dog, happy to wait patiently until you tap him in—but a lurking, menacing presence all the same.

Of course, O’Reilly’s is really Mary’s bar—a place he and his bandmates have been frequenting for years (even if it’s a place you’ve been known to hit up on a bar crawl or for late-night eats)—so the staff and regulars obviously don’t buy the dark & mysterious routine from a dude who once sang “Paradise City” shitfaced while trying to Coyote Ugly on the bar. It doesn’t stop them from acting like you have some sort of … control over him—which, ok: you do—now that’s it clear you’re pretty solidly in the picture.

The barstaurant is what Mary calls a “Pop” dive bar. It’s dim enough and cheap enough to attract the college kids and the punks, but it’s clean and serves decent food all night so that the yuppies flock there too. The regulars don’t think too much of the dynamic (and Mary’s known to get into drinking games with the finance guys), but that doesn’t mean there aren’t … clashes. The bouncers visibly eye roll with their entire bodies whenever they see Mary in line.

“Goore. It amazes me you haven’t been banned yet,” says ‘Bruiser’ (what Mary affectionately calls him—his real name is Rodney or something) as he haphazardly marks at X on the back of Mary’s hand.

“I’m pretty sure that’s because my friends and I single handedly keep this place afloat when there’s not a game.”

When you thrust out your hand, Bruiser hums at you, like you’re guilty by association (not that he’s wrong), and swipes at your hand too.

“You should be keeping him in line.”

You give him a wolfish smile. “Where’s the fun in that for me?”

Bruiser rubs his eyes.

“Just … try to stay out of trouble?”

Mary slings his arm heavily across your shoulders as you enter the bar, set upon his own claim. It’s not so much about keeping guys from approaching you (“I mean, they can try. It funny watching you turn them down.”) than it is a warning that anyone who starts shit with you will finish it with him (“Or maybe I just want to show off the pretty piece on my arm—ow, fuck”).

As the two of you make your way to the bar, a few people call out, and Mary tilts his head at them. “Thursday is the new Friday” is apparently in full swing here. It’s crowded enough that you two have to squeeze into an opening at the bar, but not so much that you can’t carve out a space for yourselves.

You order the two of you a round of shots and a lite beer as a chaser. Mary knocks the whiskey back like it’s sugar water while you push through the burn. You immediately take a swig of the beer; some of it dribbles down your chin, and you wipe it away with the back of your hand. Mary tracks your movement. 

“Oh—you want some?” you say licking your lips.

“Yeah.”

You crook your finger at him, and he leans down.

“Open.”

His glossy lips part, eyes fixed on yours. You bring up the beer bottle and carefully tip it into his mouth. He closes his lips around the mouth of it as you pour, but easily lets go when you incrementally pull it away. Some of the gloss comes away with it, so you tell Mary to hold up. You dig into your bra to produce the tube of gloss, then reapply to his lips.

“Disgusting,” comes a voice that startles the both of you out of your bubble. You turn to see a neckbeard in a hoodie scowling at the two of you. “You really going to let your bitch put that shit on you?”

Mary’s face darkens, and he straightens to much taller than his height.

“The fuck you just say?”

Mary lets a lot go—he’s a skinny goth boy who wears horrorface—but he hates it when men talk shit to you. Things that don’t even penetrate you seem to make his blood boil (“How can you not know this is just a thing?” “I did, I just … didn’t know how often it was a thing.”).

“You really gonna let some bitch dress you like a faggot?”

Mary tenses at the same time as you spit, “I’m sorry about your small penis.”

Neckbeard sputters at you, and Mary steps in front of you.

“Call my girl a bitch again and I’ll tear the veins out of your neck.”

“Fucking snowflake faggot, like you could.”

“Is that supposed to be an insult?”

“You’re ok with looking like a fairy?”

“The fae are fearsome creatures, so yeah.”

“Don’t be a fucking smartass, freak. You know what I meant”

“If you mean the colloquial meaning of ‘gay man’, then yeah—I am.”

“That’s fucking disgusting.”

“I’ve found sex with men quite pleasant.”

“What the fuck, dude,” says Neckbeard, recoiling.

Out of nowhere, Bruiser materializes.

“Problem?”

At the same time as Neckbeard says Not at all, Mary is gearing up.

“Yeah. He’s harassing Suey and spouting homophobic language.”

Bruiser is—as it happens—a gay man, and his face darkens.

“I’m sorry, sir. We don’t tolerate that kind of hate speech here.”

“Don’t tell me they got you toeing the party line?”

“Management reserves the right to remove any patrons they feel contribute to an unsafe environment.”

Neckbeard sputters. “Y-you will let this, this freak stay here, and kick out a red-blooded man?”

“He’s a pain in the ass, but hardly a public menace.”

“I’m touched, Bruiser.”

“Shut the fuck up, Mary.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I’d like to speak to the manager. I want him to know what kind of Yelp review I’m going to leave.”

“Of course, sir. This way …”

Bruiser leads Neckbeard away. Mary gives him a thumbs up, but Bruiser just glowers at him.

You consider Mary.

“You like to fuck men?”

Mary looks at you, brows furrowed. “Well, yeah. I’m in a punk band.”

You squint at him. “What does that have to do …”

His features school. “You … you do know that we’ve all fucked each other?”

Oh. 

You didn’t. 

“That—that makes a lot more sense.”

No wonder his bandmates resent you. You took Mary from them.

“Is … that a problem?” says Mary, his face impassive.

“No,” you say quickly. “I just—didn’t know. I’ve never seen you make googly eyes at a dude.”

He crowds into your space, placing his hands on your waist.

“I don’t make eyes at anyone’s who’s not you.”

You burst out into laughing that turns into stifled giggles.

Mary scowls at you. “Don’t be a bitch. I’m being sincere.”

“No, it’s just … Mare—you’re the biggest flirt whoever made his family ridiculous. No, don’t shake your head at me—you are. I’m not the jealous type, but that doesn’t mean I don’t watch you play up your Evil Lothario persona when it suits you.”

He grumbles non-verbally at you, then deflects.

“Don’t you fuck women?”

“Oh,” you say, surprised. “Um. No? Not really.”

He tilts his head at you. “Not really?”

You shrug. “I mean, college … but no. I’m not sexually attracted to women.”

“Well, damn,” he says as he runs his hand through your hair. “I guess there goes all my hopes of a threesome.”

You smirk at him. “Does it?”

He stills when he gets your meaning.

“What?” you ask.

“I … I can’t tell if I hate that idea or not.”

“A devil’s threesome?”

Mary shudders. “I’m equal parts repulsed and turned on by that.”

You lean away from him. “Ok, wait. You have orgies with your band, but you’re stymied by a threesome with another dude?”

“I’m gonna sound like an asshole, but it’s different with a random groupie.”

“How so?”

His eyebrows twist.

“That was just fun. I never cared for them. Not like …”

He runs a finger lightly down your face, and you shy away from it.

“Gross.”

Mary narrows his eyes at you, then grabs you by the hips to pull you into him.

“But: I’ll admit that the idea of watching some dick that’s not mine fuck you is … appealing.”

You feel the growing bulge in his jeans. He leans down to murmur into your ear.

“Fucking into your pussy, like he has the right.”

He hikes your one leg over his hip and presses his erection into your crotch. You make a pleased noise.

“Watching your face contort with the pleasure he gives you. Watching you moan as he makes you cum.”

He ruts into you, and you wonder if he can feel your growing wetness. He presses his nose into your neck.

“Fuck. That makes you hot, too. I can smell you.”

“Fuck, Mary.”

“God, what a little cock slut you’d be. Could I punish you after?”

You’re throbbing now between your legs, and you let out a soft moan.

“Yeah, you’d like that. Being punished for fucking a cock that wasn’t mine.”

You grind into him, and he slips a thigh further in between your legs, resting his foot on the rail under the bar. Immediately you grasp at him as you rock yourself back and forth on his thigh in little movements.

“How would you like to be punished? Should I take you over my knee?”

A thrill runs through you, and your back arches as you let out an Uhhn.

“Yeah,” Mary rumbles. “Take you over my knee and make sure to cherry that ass of yours.”

He reaches his hand around to press at you from behind, and the feeling goes straight to your clit. Your head lolls as your eye roll back. You’re sure some of the people in the crowd must be aware of what’s happening, but right now all thought is between your legs.

They’re welcome.

“Would you fuck me?” you breathe.

Mary growls. “Of course I’d fuck you. Gotta make you remember why you like my cock best. But only after I spanked you red. I’d want you to feel the sting every time I fucked into you.”

You rock hard into Mary’s thigh, and he pulsates the fingers pressing into you, ratcheting up your arousal.

“Oh god, Mary.”

“Yeah, that’s right. Cry out my name. You know who owns your pleasure.”

You’re riding his thigh hard, your movements no longer discreet. You know Mary’s hard, but he’s just looking down at you with hooded, intense eyes as his clever fingers manipulate you. You rub your clit forward into his thigh, then rock back onto his fingers—your hips circling sinuously. You’re terribly close to climaxing if you could just …. You grip hard at his arms as you speed up.

“Fuck, I want it. I want to cum.”

Mary’s other hand grips you harder, and he leans in so close you can feel his lips on the shell of your ear.

“I’d fuck your cunt hard to wipe away the feel of that other dick. Fill you up with my cum so you’d smell like me. I’d hold you down so I could cum into you again and again. Make you my cum dumpster. Would you like that? To have my jizz dripping down your thighs? So that everyone knew who you belonged to.”

“I’m such a slut! I don’t deserve it!” you gasp, your movements now jerky as you chase your orgasm.

“No you don’t,” he growls. “You’re so lucky to have my dick in you. If I could, I‘d always have you on my dick. That’s all you’re good for. Milking my cock. A fucking warm body. And you can’t even do that right. I should let that other dick have you, you worthless—”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you cry out as the throb between your thighs crests, hovers, then pulsates through your cunt from front to back. You press down hard into Mary’s leg as your pussy spasms, mouth open and drooling.

“Yeah, that’s it. There you go. Ride it out.” He pets at your hair.

Once you’re done, you slump forward into his shoulder, panting, and Mary wraps an arm around your waist. He extracts his hand from under you and brings it to his face. He closes his eyes as he brings his fingers to his nose and inhales. Then he slides them down over his lips and tongue.

A throat clears.

Mary jerks around as you sluggishly raise your head. Bruiser is standing behind you two, eyebrows raised.

“You two are fucking nasty, you know that? 

You just press further into Mary—mashing your face into his chest—not up to confrontation so soon after your orgasm.

“You think this is Amsterdam or some shit? Uh-huh. You need to get your asses out of here.”

You feel Mary shrug at him.

“What’s a guy to do when his girl’s this hot?”

“All right, love birds. C’mon.”

Mary grumpily readjusts himself as you ooze down to gather your things. Bruiser escorts you both out the back door and shakes his head, laughing, as he closes the door in your faces.

You press Mary into the alley wall and rub your tits on him.

“I thank you for the use of your shapely thigh, good sir,” you all but slur as you look up at him with a happy smile.

He licks his lips. “I can think of a better way to thank me.” He grabs your hand and guides it to the bulge in his jeans. You give it a squeeze and Mary growls in response.

“I swear to god if you’re going to tease me—”

“I’m not,” you say as you pet his dick, “but not right here. C’mere …”

You grab his hand, yanking him as he stumbles behind you. You lead him down another side alley and into an overflow backlot. A quick assessment has you saying Over there as you lead him to a walled corner with an SUV parked adjacently. He lets you maneuver him in between the car and the brick wall, his eyes predatory. You push him up against the wall with both hands, and he bounces a little; you press the line of your body into him and let your hands wander slowly down the plane of his torso.

You’re looking up at him, gaze full of intent, as your fingertips slip under the waistband of his jeans. His stomach contract as he inhales sharply. You’re just grazing the tip of his cock when Mary’s hand shoots up to your head.

“I want your mouth,” he rumbles as he applies a gentle pressure to your crown

You grin up at him as you sink down to a squat. “You have been a good boy.”

He lets out a Fuck and tips his head back into the wall. You reach up for his belt, but his fingers reach it first. “Put the lip gloss on, I want to see how it looks stretched around my cock.”

Mary fumbles with getting out his cock as you dig the gloss out of your bra. You hastily swipe the wand across your lips before shoving it back into your cleavage. Mary’s holding his dick at the base—it’s flushed and the tip is shiny with precum—but with his other hand he chucks you under the chin.

“You’re beautiful you know that.”

You roll your eyes. “You’re only saying that because I’m about to suck your cock.”

His grip tightens on your chin.

“And I’m going to ruin that pretty little face of yours.”

Then he pushes his dick into your mouth whether you’re ready or not—his hand slipping to the back of your head to keep you in place. Your own hand reaches out to steady yourself on his leg as he holds you like that. He lets out a sigh of relief, then his hand is gone.

“I want to watch you,” he says.

So you bob forward down the length of his shaft, then back up, trying to get him as wet as possible with your spit. You curl your free hand around the base to use in tandem with your mouth. When you reach his cockhead, you close your eyes as you suckle at it, twisting your lips around it as you tongue at his sweet spot.

“Yeah. Yeah, just like that. Fuck.”

You remove it from your mouth so you can tap the tip on your tongue. Mary lets out a breathy grunt, and you run your tongue around the ridge before lapping around his cockhead a few times.

“Uhn, yeah.”

You suck it down to the hilt in one swallow, and Mary gasps, his hand slamming into the wall. You deep throat him for a bob or two, then pull off with a sucking sound so you can take a breath, making sure to keep jacking him with your hand.

Mary lets out a half whine.

After repeating that combo a few times, you settle in to work at sucking him off for really reals. It’s a good thing it’s a tight fight in the corner, since you’re able to use the car to help redistribute your weight—you probably can’t squat for long.

Mary’s earlier guttural noises have turned into something high and breathy. If you could spare a hand, you could probably cum again just from the noises he’s making.

There’s a tense moment when you hear footsteps in the gravel and you freeze, Mary letting out a soft moan of frustration and his cock throbbing against your tongue. But then the steps get closer, and you feel him tense. He puts a hand on the side of your head—whether to shield you from view or keep you from popping off, who’s to say?

The sound finally does round the corner of the car, and your hand tightens on Mary’s thigh. He feels like a coiled spring. There's a clink of a belt that cuts off suddenly.

“Whoops … sorry,” slurs a male voice.

Then a pause.

“Girl, you ok?”

Mouth still full of Mary’s dick, you give a thumb’s up in the voice’s direction with the hand not occupied.

“Ah. Have fun.”

Then the footsteps stumble and recede, and you do pull off his dick. Mary spits out a Fuck and slams a fist into the wall.

“Stupid fucking drunk. I was enjoying that,” he says looking down at you. 

You’re feeling the burn in your leg muscles, which are starting to tremble.

“Wait—just let me …” you say as you try to shift around to a better position. You’re about to fold your knees under you when Mary says, “Wait. The gravel.” 

He shrugs out of his leather jacket and hands it down to you. You lay it down in front of you before kneeling on it.

“Why, Goore—you’re such a gentleman.”

His hand is behind your head again, tangling into your hair. “Shut up and suck my cock.”

You acquiesce, sinking back down and getting right to it. He’s by no means soft, but he’s not as hard as he was before the unfortunate interlude, so you deep throat him a couple times to coax the blood back in.

“Hhhghh, how are you so good at that.”

You hollow your cheeks for a long suck.

“Fuck.”

You start bobbing on him again when he says, “Look up at me.” You flick your eyes to him. “Yeah, just like that. Keep your eyes on me.” His own eyes are glazed and his mouth is parted. “Yeah, keep going. Faster.”

Speeding up, you try to keep the hand at his base in time with your mouth.

“Yeah, yeah. Don’t stop, don’t stop.”

You bob faster on his cock, and you see Mary’s body tense, then release. 

Tense. 

Release. 

He swallows audibly, the telltale stiffening obvious against your tongue, then he breathes out: “Keepyouhandgoing.” The grip in your hair tightens, and then he yanks you off his dick.

Your pace slightly stutters, but then you start jacking him as fast as you can as you squeeze your eyes shut. Almost immediately you’re hit in the face with the splash of his cum, and Mary makes this soft-moan thing in the back of his throat. He must really have been worked up, because he splatters across your face again and again. And again.

You ease up with your hand only when you hear him whine, but he just pushes your head forward as he presses back into your mouth, making a pleased rumble as he rubs against your tongue. He rocks into your mouth a little bit, and then the hold in your hair disappears and he withdrawals from your mouth. You feel him lean away from you and into the wall.

“Oh wow. Fuck,” he says laughing, then lets out a pleased hum.

You’re still kneeling on the ground, eyes closed and arms out for balance.

“Mare?”

“What? Oh—yeah, fuck. Hold on.”

There’s a rustling of clothes and a zipper, and then you sense him getting on his knees in front of you. He chuckles.

“Wow—I really got you everywhere.”

“Mary.”

“All right, all right,” he says still chuckling. “Um … ok.”

You feel what can only be his t-shirt wiping at your face. And your ear. And under your chin. And at your hair.

“Just a few more …” he says as you feel him wipe at your eyes with his thumb. “Ok … you’re a little smudgy, but—ok.”

When you open your eyes, he’s right in your face.

“You’re right—that lipstick is amazing,” he says, and then he kisses you hard and rough with an open mouth, his tongue going straight for your tonsils. 

Despite being crunched between a car and a brick wall with the sharp gravel digging into your legs, you and Mary makeout sloppily with too much tongue and a lot of spit. His hands have found your face again and yours are braced on his chest.

The sudden noise of a car starting up and echoing off the wall has you both breaking apart.

“We should go,” you say.

“You think.”

It’s a little awkward to navigate in the cramped space, but you help each other up, your legs wobbling a bit. You hand Mary back his jacket, and he brushes off the detritus before donning it again. You notice that he keeps pulling the bottom of his shirt away from his stomach, and you laugh.

“Oh no! That can’t be comfortable.”

“It’s fine. It’s only cold and wet. And sticky.”

You hold out your arms to him, and he perks up. When he’s in your arms, you make sure to rub and smush his shirt into his stomach.

“Oh my god you’re such a bitch.”

“I’m helping!”

“How is that helping?”

“It’s just like acclimating to the ocean—you just got to dunk under in one go,” you chirp at him.

“Next time I’m just gonna leave you looking like a bad bukkake.”

At some point Mary started rocking the two of you, and you squirm until he finally lets go. He sighs.

“All right. Let’s get you home.”

He puts his hands in his pockets and starts striding out of the parking lot. You skip after him and thread your arm through his.

“Really? The night’s still young!”

He gives you an incredulous look.

“Suey, you look like you just got face fucked in a parking lot.” He gives you an appraising look. “Actually, that’s kinda hot. On second thought, let’s go to Sixes & Sevens—”

“Where?”

“Mickey’s place. I have no problem with everyone knowing whose dick you just sucked. I’ll make them smell my fingers too.”

“Pig.”

“Hmm, maybe I should reup.”

He pushes you against a wall and puts his hand between your legs. His face contorts into a look of surprise.

“Fuck, you’re wet. Like … really wet.”

“Well, what did you think—”

“Fuck, are you still …” 

Suddenly he’s pushing up your skirt and diving his hand into your panties. You gasp Oh my god when his finger slip-slides over your clit. 

“How are you still so wet?”

You give him a sultry look.

“You know sucking your cock does it for me.”

He’s still fingering you, leaning into your space, when he says, “Maybe we should get a cab. I could be fucking you in 10 minutes. No drunks looking for a place to piss.”

With his clever fingers manipulating you, you have to admit the prospect is appealing. But …

“No,” you purr at him. “You’re going to get me off right now because it pleases me. Then we’re going to go get a little sloppy, and if you can keep your hands to yourself, you can fuck me that way you like when we get back to my place.”

Mary presses into you like it’s a reflex.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“And if I can’t?”

“Then it’s you and your hand, mister.”

His fingers go to work at you. They’re sloppy, artless—unlike his usual careful manipulation—but you’re already halfway there from the blow job and that, combined with him sucking bruises into your neck, has you mewling and pushing at him in no time. The pad of a finger suddenly presses hard onto your clit, and you make a wounded noise. It doesn’t leave, and you feel the direct pressure keenly. You start twitching and letting out small noises.

“Oh oh oh … Mary—oh god … Mary …”

He turns his head to kiss at the hinge of his jaw, but his finger just. Stays.

The pressure is all at once Way to Much and Not Enough, and you’re thrashing you head back and forth.

“Mary, Mary, Mary, Mary …”

You’re asking for mercy, but he’s granting you no clemency.

It’s a slow build to your orgasm, but you feel every second of it intensely. Your head tips back, and your nails scrabble at the wall as you moan Oh oh oh oh in time to the pulsating of your clit. You’re making these embarrassing high-pitched wounded noises as the throb between your legs worsens.

When you finally cum, it’s almost painful, and you grapple at Mary’s arms, sinking your nails into him. Your screams bounce off the walls around the two of you, and Mary covers your mouth with his to muffle you. You’re dimly aware that you just squirted everywhere, soaking your leggings, the fluid dripping down your legs.

You jerk when Mary runs a gentle circle around your over sensitive nub, and he wraps an arm around your waist to pull you into him. 

“I made a mess,” you say as Mary withdraws his hand. You meant for it to be funny, but once it comes out, it sounds small and your voice wavers.

Mary wipes his hand off on his jeans and brings his other arm around you.

“I guess we’re matched now—both covered in sex juice.”

The wetness on your legs is beginning to cool, and the droplets are beginning to settle into your socks. Suddenly the thought of going anywhere else other than home is unappealing. Cleaning some semen off your face in a bar bathroom is much different than dealing with soaked bottoms all night. You push away from him.

“You did that on purpose!” you say as you tug on your damp leggings.

“I—what?”

“If you really didn’t want to go back out, you just could have said!”

Mary’s looking at you helplessly. 

“You asked me to get you off …”

“I can’t go anywhere like this, Mary!”

He closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose.

“Are you really fucking mad at me because I made you cum too hard?”

“You knew what would happen!”

“Jesus fucking christ. There’s never any winning with you sometimes.”

You turn and start walking away.

“Where are you going?”

“Home.”

“Yeah? You gonna walk the whole way?”

“Yep.” Maybe taking off your leggings will help. Except then your ass will be hanging out.

“Suey … that’s an hour’s walk. Let’s get a cab, ok?”

You spin on your heel.

“I’m all wet, Mary! I can’t sit in a cab. I’m disgusting.”

You turn back around and continue walking. After a bit, Mary catches up with you.

“Let’s get a cab, you can sit on my jacket.”

You look at him. “I can’t do that.”

“Why not?”

“Well I’m … it’s …” you sputter.

“It was really hot. Fuck, I think I almost came in my pants.”

“But—”

“So I literally don’t give a fuck if you sit on my jacket.”

You don’t say anything, but you don’t fight him either.

“Look, we’ll get a cab; you can change; and we can go to the bar down the street from you. Ok?”

You stop and look at him.

“Ok.”

He looks at you, then rolls his eyes, shaking his head.

“You’re a fucking pain in my ass, you know that?” He bundles you into an embrace. “I don’t know why I keep you around.”

You let him enfold you in his arms, but don’t hug him back.

“Probably the blow jobs,” you say into his chest.

He cradles the back of your head and you feel him smell your hair.

“Definitely one of the top 3 reasons.”

The two of you get a cab and—true to his word—Mary lays out his leather jacket for you to sit on. When you get back to your apartment, you make a beeline for your shower. You strip down to everything but your panties and leggings—those you’ll shower in.

The shower is amazing, and you relish in washing the night off your body. When you’re done, you hang the wet garments over the shower rod and wrap yourself in your robe.

You find Mary conked out on top of your covers in just his boxer briefs. One of his hands is on his chest and the other is sprawled across your bed; his mouth is open and there’s a little drool in one of the corners. You climb onto the bed and lie on top of him

“Huh, wha?” says Mary as he startles awake.

“Nothing. Go back to sleep.”

A hand rests on your back.

“Wasn’t sleeping.”

“Mmhm.”

“Just resting my eyes.”

“Mmm.”

He rubs your back a little before saying, “Should we get moving?”

“Can we just stay like this?”

A pause.

“Sure.”

You lay like that for awhile, feeling Mary’s chest rise and fall under you.

“M’sorry,” you mumble.

“Hmm?”

“I’m sorry I was such a bitch.”

“Yeah. I didn’t like that.”

You consider for a moment before saying, “My parents used to pull that shit on me.”

He breathes in. He breathes out.

“Which?”

“They’d—they’d give me permission to do something or whatever, and then they’d manipulate it so they got what they wanted anyway. Um, like one time I wanted to go to this concert? And they said I could if xyz, you know? I got the ticket and everything. All my friends were going. We had all these plans. And then like. The night before, my parents held up my English class roster. I had this paper due the next week and they asked me to show them my research notes. Obviously I didn’t have any research notes because I’d planned to spend that Sunday at the library. So they revoked their permission. Said I promised this concert wouldn’t interfere with my schoolwork, and obviously I hadn’t kept that promise. All my friends went to the concert that Friday and my parents drove me to the library. Said it was a lesson in responsibility.

“That’s just the one that really made me realize how fucked up they were. I know it sounds stupid—boo-hoo I missed a concert, but it's really the thousand little paper cuts like that. It’s about how stressful it was never knowing what I was actually allowed to do, and what was fake. Having to always go the extra mile and second guess myself. To do everything right and get tripped up on a technicality.

“One time I saved up to buy this dress to one of the proms I’d been asked to? And they knew that. They praised me for being fiscally responsible. I kept my grades up. I stayed on top of all my assignments and made sure all my chores were done. They helped me with a deposit to the group limo. And then a week before—you know, I didn’t even remember what bullshit reason they found. But they found something. And it’s like they knew I was going to go anyway, so they returned my dress and drove us out to grandma’s for the weekend. 

“It kinda beat me into submission, you know? I just. Stopped doing things. Like, what was the point, right? The dance? The new movie? Game night? They always found a reason. And my friends? Just stopped inviting me out to things. They said my parents would just find a reason to block me anyway and that they were tired of working around it.

“So, I dunno. Tonight? It felt a little like that. Like you’d wanted to call it a night, and when I didn’t want to, you found a way to get what you wanted while pretending to give me what I wanted.”

Mary lightly scratches down your back through your robe.

“That sounds really fucked up.”

“Yeah.”

“Are they …?”

“They disowned me.”

Mary lifts his head.

“What? Why?”

“I—not tonight, ok?”

“K.”

The two of you lay like that, unspeaking, for a while. After a while you become aware of Mary’s hardness under you.

“Did you want to fuck?”

His hand stills.

“What?”

You squirm a little.

“I can feel you.”

“Suey. You’re laying on top of me. What did you expect? But no: I don’t want to fuck.”

“Are you sure?”

“This is kind of nice, actually. As it is.”

“Gross, but ok.”

“Can I kiss you?”

“Whatever.”

Mary maneuvers his head until his mouth meets yours. He starts with your lips, then moves onto slipping you some tongue. You meet his kiss, gently tangling your tongue with his. He runs his hand through your hair, then rolls you onto your sides. His thigh slips between yours, but he doesn’t grind against you or anything. Still—his dick hasn’t seemed to get the memo. You slip your hand down to cup him, but May flinches and catches up your hand.

“Hey. I said it’s fine.”

“But you’re—”

“I said, no.”

You bury your head in his neck.

“Ok. But … do you really not want to, or is it something else?”

“Why do you think I’m some sexbot?

You bring your face to Mary’s and squish his between your hands.

“I don’t think that, Mary. It just seemed like—I dunno—you were falling on your sword or something.”

“Fuck, Suey. I don’t expect you to understand. You always seem ready to go. Like we could be having the worst fight, but if I took my dick out, you’d still drop to your knees and suck it.”

You flush at being read.

“But I don’t—I know my dick thinks it’s gonna get lucky because you’re so close, but I’m just not in the mood. If you want an orgasm, I’m happy to give you one—I’m always happy to make you cum—but I’d rather not myself, ok?”

You kiss his nose. “Ok, Mare Bear. But if you change your mind …”

“Noted.”

The two of you make out lazily. Mary’s hands slip into your robe and roam all over your body—a light caress here and a grabby handful there—but you keep yours at his face and in his hair. Soon, he has his face in your neck and his one hand is kneading at your breasts. Because he’s pressed close to you, you can feel the throb of his cock. His finger sweeps over a hardened nipple, and you moan at the sensation. Mary ruts into you, then whines. 

You pet his head. “It’s ok, Mare. You can fuck me.”

“But I don’t want to want to fuck you. I should be fucking able to just lie here with you without fucking wanting it.”

“Why?”

“Because.”

“Ok, but if I want it and you want it …?”

He tilts his head back. “Christ, you’re frustrating. Look—you were kinda right earlier. You wanted to go out, and instead it became all about where we could fuck. Is that all? Are we just strung together by times we’ve fucked and times we could be fucking?”

You consider his words.

“I don’t have many relationships, Mary. They kind of seem like a waste of time? And if I get horny, there’s always a bar full of guys to fuck. But, I dunno. You’re different. You don’t want things from me. I feel like I can just … exist with you.”

“I want a lot of things from you.”

You huff.

“You don’t want idealized things from me. I don’t know where you’ve gotten this idea that the only thing we’ve got in common is our genitals.”

“Don’t say genitals.”

“Our nethers.” Mary groans. “But I feel like in a pie chart of my life, there’s a big slice devoted to Mary Rants. About capitalism, about the patriarchy, about gender construct, about slow walkers—”

“Who are these people who have nowhere to go?!”

“—and another devoted to the plotline of the WWE wrestlers.”

“I won’t apologize for that. It’s dramatic as fuck AND there’s head bashing. Everyone who disses it is missing out on some serious soapy shit.”

“Such on brand Mary.”

He grumbles.

“Fine, ok. But—you’re like this vault, and I only have a lock pick.”

“Am I?”

“Yeah.” He presses an index finger to your forehead. “I know there’s gold in there. But I can’t get at it.”

“Hmm.”

“Hmm?”

“I’m ruminating,” you say.

“You and your 10¢ words.”

“I won’t apologize for my vocabulary.” 

Mary pecks your lips. “Wasn’t asking you to.”

You sigh and snuggle—yes, ok snuggle—into him.

“I guess I take too much pride in being independent. And, I mean … I think we work because we’re both independent people looking for—I dunno—a partner to come home to, not someone who follows you around. But—I’ll try, Mary. To, I dunno—hand the gold bars out through a slot or whatever … it’s your stupid metaphor.” 

“It’s a start.”

You blow a raspberry at him, and he retaliates by gently biting your tongue. When you squeal in consternation, he just sucks it into his mouth. You try to push away from him, but he just rolls on top of you and begins to blow raspberries into your neck

“How do you like it?” Thhpbt “How do you like it now?” Thhpbt “You think that shit is funny?” Thhpbt

You’re laughing and trying to push him off you, but he has you thoroughly pinned.

“Wait—no! Stop!” you beg in between giggles.

He buries his face between your tits and gives you the biggest one yet.

“I will fucking murder your face, Mary Goore!”

He looks up at you, eyes glinting boyishly. “You’d have to get free first.”

You start kicking with your legs, and he tries to keep you pinned—but you bring your knee up, and he flinches away preemptively.

“Don’t play dirty!” he exclaims as you take your advantage to roll back on top of him.

You lick his face and try not to cringe from the awful taste of the makeup on it. Mary makes a disgusted noise.

“Did you mean murder my face like a kitten? Seriously, fucking stop.”

Still ignoring the bitter taste of his makeup, you continue to lap at him. He grabs you by the hair and drags your mouth down to his. Him sucking your tongue into his mouth (“Ugh, is that what I taste like?!”) is initially a matter of defense, but it soon turns into a heated kiss. Mary’s gripping your hair and pressing up into you as his tongue pilfers your mouth. He wrenches your head back so he can kiss down your neck.

“What about now?” you gasp. “Can I take your cock now?”

“Ugh,” he huffs into your neck. “I hate it when you win.”

He rolls the two of you back onto your sides, and his hand travels down to your cunt. You’re by no means soaking, but the play fighting and subsequent kissing have made you wet enough. Mary thinks so too, and—after some fumbling with his underwear and your robe—his cock finds your hole and pushes in. He makes a sound of relief, as you gasp, and begins to slowly thrust in and out of you.

The position is a little awkward, even with your leg hoisted over him, and you say, “I can turn around if …?”

But he just draws you closer. “No, this is fine.”

His thrusts are slow and steady, him slowing you down every time you try to pick up the pace.

You whine. “Mare—”

“Shh—it can be good like this.”

He finds your mouth again, his one hand tangled in your hair and the other gripping your ass. You let him slowly fuck into you, your hand snaking down to play with your clit. It takes longer than when the two of you pound frenetically at each other, but soon enough Mary is stuttering and trembling with the need to cum.

“Are you close?” he mouths at you. “I want to cum with you.”

You squirm. “Mary …”

“Please …”

You suck his tongue into your mouth and start tapping quicker on your clit. You dredge up your favorite x-rated fantasy. All you need is …

“Faster—oh please, Mary …” you plead, breaking away from his mouth.

He presses you into him harder as he begins to thrust faster. Your eyes are squeezed shut as you will your orgasm to happen.

“Suey—this pace … I can’t …” whines Mary. He slows down a little, pumping into you with longer, deeper thrusts. You press into your clit, hard, and clench around him, loving the feeling of being filled, of having something pressing back against you.

“Oh my god,” hisses Mary, and then he slams suddenly into you. “Ughn,” he grunts out as he empties into you. 

It’s actually enough to push you over, and your eyes roll back as you start to pulsate and spasm with the waves of your orgasm.

“Ah ah ah ah,” you punch out.

And then the two of you are clenching and grinding and grabbing at each other, mouths meeting and then smearing across faces and necks.

When it’s over, your leg is draped and hanging over his hip, his face is mashed into your shoulder, and your arms are wrapped around his head. You are both panting, hearts rabbiting.

“Fuck,” says Mary into your shoulder.

“Double fuck,” you say, and Mary huffs out a laugh. He raises his head to capture your mouth in a lazy kiss.

You’re both sticky with sweat, and it’s a messy business separating. Mary reaches out to you, but you’re already bouncing off the bed.

“No, why?” he whines as he makes grabby hands at you, but you’re already shrugging your robe back on.

“Do we have to go through this every time? I’m going to pee—I’ll be right back.”

You’re on the toilet when Mary wanders in—nude and soft cock bouncing. 

“Mary,” you squeal as you cover yourself with your hands.

He squints at you. “What?”

“WHAT IF I WAS TAKING A SHIT?!”

“Are you taking a shit?”

“No, but—”

He turns the sink faucet on. “Then what’s the issue?”

“Fuck, leave some mystery!”

He grabs his Mary-designated washcloth and looks over at you as he runs it under the water.

“I don’t really want ‘the mystery’. I want the real thing.”

Mary begins to wipe in between his legs, and you turn your head away with a disgruntled noise.

“I don’t get what the big fucking deal is. I probably know what your, uh, vagina—”

“You can just say ‘cunt’, jesus christ, this isn’t health class.”

“—your cunt looks like better than you do. I’m up there enough. And earlier tonight you were covered in my jizz.”

“It’s-it’s—I don’t know! Kind of gross?”

“You peeing is grosser than semen?”

You press the palms of your hands into your eyes.

“Yes?”

The faucet shuts off. “Fine. I'll tell you what. You promised to be more open. So you can either finish peeing—don’t deny it I know I interrupted you midstream—

“Christ, Mary—”

“—or you can tell me one personal, intimate thing, and I’ll leave.”

You turn to glare at him. He’s standing with arms akimbo, modesty be damned. You keep his gaze as you unclench and finish peeing. He grins at you—a wide, fearsome thing.

“Ok, ok—get out. That’s all you get tonight, drive through.”

He leans over to kiss your head, and you make a mean lemon face at him.

When you get back into your room, Mary is in a fresh—well different—pair of boxer briefs and is straightening out your sheets. You hang up your robe and shimmy into the old tee of his that you’ve claimed as yours. When he turns and sees you, his eyes linger, but he doesn’t say anything.

You both climb into bed, and you allow him to big spoon you—with the understanding that the second he falls asleep you retain the right to extract yourself from him. He snuffles into your neck and sighs. 

After awhile you say, “Sorry that that’s not the way I promised to let you fuck me.”

He huffs into you. “How do you know how I wanted to fuck you?”

"It was implied.”

“You said ‘that way I like’. I like the way we fucked just fine.” 

“But I—”

“Hush. Let’s just go the fuck to sleep, ok?”

"Yeah, ok.”

⬅️Previous | Next ➡️

#mary goore #ofc #feral cats fic #ficlet #gritty girls #gutter punk #my writing

[lucarioisinthevoid]

Heyooo! Does the gang ever have sleepovers or something! I imagine they play those creepy games, like ‘Light As Feathers Stiff As Board’ or ‘Bloody Mary! Oh! And they could do each other’s nails and makeup!

Hah, reminds me of a thing a friend told me, where they dreamed that they were Mike and having a sleepover with all the guards. Good times. Mike doesn’t get to put on nail polish. He’ll lick it off to attempt suicide. Jeremy doesn’t want any either, because he will gnaw it off. But he wants little bows and other fun hair stuff, he thinks that is fun! Polish Phone Guy’s head. It’ll last longer on there anyways and more space for cool patterns. They’ll have a lot of fun, except it will be incredibly stressful, because it’s like keeping five cats in a bag for a whole night. Mike never really sleeps, not with so many people around. The sleepover happens inside of the pizzeria, because Dave said either at HIS home or in the pizzeria and everyone agreed the pizzeria was safer- I mean, more spacious. They kept only the party lights on, and the animatronics locked up. At least until they managed to break out and a wild-goose chase started, including multiple last stands, declarations of wars and salt circles. At the end, the animatronic won the final battle of tic-tac-toe (incredibly work by Chica the mastermind) and now they were allowed inside of the sleepover too- Which meant no further swearing for everyone except Mike, who had the bitch-pass, like he always did. Ah, the benefit of being a virgin. You get to swear in front of ghosts! And capture unicorns, but we don’t let Mike near unicorns anymore after the last time resulted in the evacuation of the entire city. Back to the topic, you can rest assured that everyone WILL play the dumbest games, solely to keep Dave and Old Sport appeased. They do great things!

… LIKE REALIZING EVERYONE IS WEARING VERY STUPID SLEEPING WEAR! “Where’s ya sleepin’ stuff, Mikey?! Come on, me ‘n Sportsy brought our matching bear-bunny onesies, and you have NOTHIN’?!” “Usually I sleep fucking naked.” Old Sport grinned. “… well then, we’re waiting-“ “I can fucking break you.” The verdict of both the psychopaths was in. “Sexy!” Jeremy was way too distracted to listen to them though. “THERE ARE FREDBEAR ONESIES!? CAN I HAVE ONE!? PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE-“ Simon laid on the ground, staring at the ceiling, charging. He wouldn’t close his dial all night. “… they uh- were discontinued because the dye they used was tox-“ “WE’LL GET YA ONE, JERRY! DON’T ‘CHA WORRY!” … LIKE PLAYING SILLY PRANKS! “Phoney, help us bake! WE WANT A PIZZA!” “Uh- what do you need ME for?” “HOW NICE OF YA TO OFFER! First, please open that can of melt-cheese!” “… it’s warm.” “DON’T WORRY ABOUT THAT.” “I’m, uh- I’m not touching it. You probably have already molten the cheese inside, d-do you know how HARD it is to get that out of a phone?!” “WELP, TOO BAD, WE CARBONATED THE CHEESE BEFORE RESEALING WITH GLUE!” At that the thing exploded, coating everyone in cheese. “Worst night of my life…” Distraught Jeremy looked at them, while the other two were laughing. “O-oh man- sir, should I get I some water-“ Mike hissed. “No worries, I fucking got it.” “MIKE NO-“ With that he proceeded to touch the stove, putting it on fire and setting off the sprinklers, drenching everyone. … LIKE PLAYING STUPID GAMES! “Okay, everyfuckingone, listen up. I prepared a scavenger hunt. The reward is a fucking nifty thing, so you better work hard. It may or may not be a gun.” Excited Alice, who was gaining power with every miserable hour the guards spend, jumped around. Joining had been a good idea. Jeremy was concerned. “A- a gun…? Mike, you- you know that would be pretty dangerous-“ “DID I SAY “MAY OR MAY NOT” OR NOT?” “Geez, sorry.” “Great. So, everyone, the hints are hidden all around the restaurant and EVERYTHING could be a hint. If you tell me the right code- whatever that will be- I��ll give you a hint where the next one is. The first to find the X wins. First hint: Party hats. FUCKING READY, FUCKING SET, FUCKING GO!” Everyone rushed off, even the animatronics, leaving only Mike and Simon behind. “Did you, uh- did you really set that all up…?” “Nope.” Together they observed everyone rushing about. … AND WINNING STUPID PRICES! Everyone was cowering together in a corner, as the little Minireena pointed the dangerously dull plastic knife at them. In front of them Mike, looking like a feral animal. “YOU FUCKING CHEATED. THERE NEVER WAS AN X. THERE IS NO PRICE!” Alice tapped her chin, then giggled. Tired and confused Simon sighed. “What… what did she say…?” “That her price will be that we all design her a new dress, each of us one- or she will cut us into pieces.” “But that’s- that’s a plastic knife.” Slowly Alice’s head turned, creaking unnaturally loud for such a small machine. “… she says that’s the reason should make you way, WAY more afraid.” … LIKE WINNING THE DARWIN AWARD! Phone Guy had only left for ten minutes at most to get some ice and some non-descript carbon drink that you can’t prove is a brand name, so don’t even try to get me sued- He walked back into the main area, carefully watching his tablet so nothing would accidentally spill over, but when he looked up for a moment he almost dropped it all. Mike, Old Sport and Dave were standing together, roughly 500 rubberbands tied together, leading to two chairs that where weighted down by endo scraps. On the other side where all the animatronics, Freddy in front, Chica, Bonnie and Foxy right behind him in a line, with determined expressions on the faces. “WHAT THE EVERLOVING H-H-H-HECK IS GOING ON HERE!?” “SLINGSHOT BOWLING!” Old Sport screamed back, clearly excited. “MIKEY IS GOING TO CRUSH THESE ANIMATRONICS WITH HIS HEAD ALONE!” “ONE OF US IS GOING TO FUCKING DIE TONIGHT.” “M-MIKE! WHY DID YOU AGREE TO THIS- TO THIS- TO THIS- MADNESS!?!” “Madness…?” Old Sport started, but Mike shook his head and interrupted him. “FUCK YOU. IF I WANT TO GET SLINGSHOTTED AT MACH SPEED THROUGH THE ESTABLISHMENT I’LL DO IT. YOU’RE NOT MY FUCKING DAD!” “Don’t worry chief.” Freddy responded calmly, his eyes firmly on the other guard. “That hollow-headed guard won’t even put one scratch on us.” Frustrated that his meme had been interrupted, the Orange Man groaned. “… this is Sparta. Great. You guys ruined it.” Letting go of the slingshot, they propelled Mike forward with a speed that could kill multiple men. Depending on where they stood. … like learning how cruel and heartless war is and how nobody wins a war truly, the words of glory and bravery were lies that THEY used to capture young, innocent minds, to chew them up and spit them out without any pity for the lost and traumatized- Mike pressed his back against the wall, sweat running down his brow and his body breathing for oxygen- but he wouldn’t allow himself to pant, he couldn’t, they were listening- There were muffled sounds of pillows and flip-flops being thrown and the guard winced as he heard a cry. All he could do was pray, pray that their fort hadn’t been broken- No, he couldn’t hesitate any longer. Rushing back in, he dodged the projectiles instantly hurdled at him, before diving behind the protective walls of his pillow fort. “Status?” Hoarse he asked Phone Guy who was lying beside him, looking out of a little gap. “They’re getting more and more aggressive. Our walls will not long stand like this. Did you get the secret weapon?” Dropping a few bottles of carbonated juice and mentos, he grinned, manically. Yet still, part of Phoney’s heart hesitated. “… does it really have to come to this? Is that what is left of our humanity? We will never be able to forget this night, Mike. Neither you nor me. We will lay awake at night, thinking about this, thinking about the cries… do you want to add this to-“ With that he forcefully was grabbed by the collar and pulled closer, almost touching Mike’s nose. “You better fucking listen to me, Si. Out there-“ He pointed out. “You’ve been my boss. My chef. You told me what to do and what to say. You had some authority. But now? Now you’re a NOBODY. Now everything that matters is if you can DO what is necessary or NOT. BECAUSE THAT’S WHAT DECIDES THIS WAR, DO YOU HEAR ME?! DO YOU KNOW WHAT WILL HAPPEN TO US? HOW MUCH LONGER DO YOU WANT THIS HELL TO GO ON!? UNTIL EVERYTHING OUT THERE IS A WASTELAND?! UNTIL NOTHING IS LEFT ASIDE FROM DISPLACED PILLOWS AND THE STENCH OF DEATH!? IF YOU WON’T GIVE YOUR FUCKING GO-AHEAD, FINE. I WILL DO IT ANWAYS, I WILL SAFE US- AT WHATEVER COST THAT MAY BE!” For a second it was silent, then Phone Guy finally slowly nodded. “… okay Mike. If we-“ Interrupted by a call from another ford both of them snapped up. Orange Guy’s evil tone was already bad enough, but his words were unbearable. “GIVE UP, YOU ALL HAVE LOST! WE WARLORDS HAVE AQUIRED THE ULTIMATE WEAPON- WE HAVE SODA AND WE HAVE MENTOS. THIS IS YOUR LAST CHANCE TO GIVE UP… OR THIS WILL BE YOUR END.” Instantly Mike’s eyes widened and he sat up, hatefully hissing. “NOT SO FUCKING FAST! WE TOO HAVE MENTOS AND SODA AND WE WILL RETALIATE WITH IT ALL! IF YOU USE THIS WEAPON, NOBODY WILL BE LEFT, I SWEAR TO GOD!” Dave cried out in hatred and anguish. “MIKE! HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO US! YOU WERE THE LAST PERSON I EXPECTED TO BE A FUCKING COMMIE, HOW DARE YOU BETRAY ME-“ “WHAT THE EVERLOVING FUCK DO YOU EVEN MEAN, I’M FUCKING SERIOUS, WHO DROPPED YOU AS A BABY AND WHY DIDN’T YOU STAY DEAD-“ The war was eventually won… but at what cost? Changed my mind, them having a sleepover is a terrible idea and is illegal from now on. Never again.

#the Group #had to put a read more because it went SO long

[nekojitachan]

Neil sees someone microwave a cup of water and has a stroke

You bet your ass he does.

Contrary to what many people (the Foxes) believe, Neil didn’t live on microwaved food (or tea!) while on the run

Microwaves weren’t common appliances when you stayed in dives and hostels and cheap as hell apartments, were living rough all the time, what with the shoddy electricity and needing to stretch the money as far as possible

What Neil (Abram) and his mother could count on during those years?

Electric kettles

Not only do they boil water for tea (Mary, British through and through, sneered at the thought of microwaving water to bring it to a proper boil) and instant coffee, but they also provide it for ramen, oatmeal, pasta, rice and lentils, could cook eggs and soup, and reheat leftovers once in a bag (really, can cook a lot of things you throw in a bag)

They were also good for quickly heating water when knives or tweezers or anything else needed sterilized

Microwaves were bulky and cost money (even used) while electric kettles were small, easy to carry/stash in a car, cheaper and could even be plugged into the car with a power converter for whenever they wanted to stay on the road for longer periods of time

They didn’t (couldn’t) allow themselves many luxuries, but whenever possible (not literally running for their lives), Mary would allow herself a ‘proper’ cup of tea (semi-decent tea leaves/bags, even if one of them had to steal it) at least once a day, preferably made when they were safely settled in wherever they were staying for the day, and Neil would join her once he was old enough (twelve years old)

He drank mostly coffee once on his own, in part because of while sleeping rough in Arizona, he didn’t have electricity, and in part because Mary was still a raw wound and it hurt too much to have a cup of tea without her

It still hurt when he got to PSU

He twitches when he sees the stove kettle that Renee has, but joins her for a cup of tea from time to time, especially when he’s talking with Dan about the team

One day he finally breaks down and buys himself an electric kettle so he can make his own tea, deciding to let that one ‘issue’ go

Nicky thinks it’s ‘fancy’ and remembers seeing ones like it in Germany, Kevin feels a bit nostalgic over it and talks about his mother, while Andrew makes a comment about it taking up counter space then about there being more coffee for him

Yet he’ll make Neil a cup of tea now and then, when Neil’s particularly quiet or worn down with his vice-captain duties (or a rough practice session with Kevin)

Andrew makes the mistake of not using the kettle one day, deciding to just throw it in the microwave (thinking it’ll be quicker) when Neil walks into the kitchen, and stands there nonplussed as his boyfriend goes off on a five minute rant about microwaves and improper temperatures and people who have ‘no idea how to make a decent cup of tea’

Andrew will never admit it, but he’s a bit turned on by how indignant the idiot is over something that has nothing to do with Exy (for once), and chagrined that his phone was nowhere around to film the whole thing

So he has Nicky make Neil a cup of tea (via the microwave) later in the week so he can record it that time

Sorry, know my headcanons suck

#aftg #Anonymous #neil josten #neil josten and tea #headcanon #don't you dare desecrate tea in a microwave #andrew minyard #mary hatford #electric kettles #they really are helpful #on the run or not #life hacks

[chcfasher]

okay i am so excited to get to plotting & interacting with all u cuties ! bare with me though , im also trying to study for a quiz i gotta take later tonight . anyways , i’m mia aka your resident masshole reporting for duty . i’m 20 years old ... will be 21 in june ( fingers crossed my Sad ass will be out of q*arentine by then ) . i go by she / her / dumb bitch pronouns & am very much so done talking about myself already . so lets get to my boy asher here who is ... how do you say ? a asshole ? a dirt bag ? a soft baby boi ? if you wanna plot & discord is easier for you shoot me a mssg @ 𝖒𝖌𝖐'𝖘 𝖜𝖍𝖔𝖗𝖊#9789 . lets goooo 💛

𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐋 𝐃𝐄𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐋𝐒

full name: asher james bennett nickname: ash , aj birthday: march 25 , 1996 zodiac: aries hometown: madison , wisconsin ( click here to see his parents house / childhood home ) current residence: los angeles , california ( although he lives in the villa with everyone , before the year away he lived on his own & still owns the home , both because he loves the place and because it gives his family somewhere to go when they come out click here to see his house ) vehicle: 2017 jeep wrangler rubicon in black ( click here ) , 2019 maserati granturismo in red ( click here ) gender: cismale orientation: heterosexual , heteromantic relationship status: single ( it’s complicated ) family: tamara marie bennett-abbott ( mother ) , harrison charles bennett ( father , deceased ) , mason billings abbott ( stepfather ) , bradford sawyer abbott ( brother ) , stephanie anne bennett ( sister )  education: vocational highschool graduating from the culinary program , graduated ucla with a bachelor in management with a minor in food studies occupation: celebrity chef , tv personality  net worth: 19.7m height: 5′11″ weight: 161lbs tattoos: left arm ( x , x ) , right arm ( x , x  , plus the butterfly tattoo jack has ) , right hand ( x ) , right thigh ( x ) , left leg ( x ) criminal record: arrested ( x6 ) - simple assault ( x2 ) , assault and battery ( x1 ) ,  disorderly conduct ( x2 ) , criminal mischief ( x1 ) , criminal trespassing ( x2 ) , minor in possession of alcohol ( x2 ) , drug possession ( x1 ) drugs / alochol / smoking: yes , mostly marijuana though / yes / no moral alignment: chaotic neutral hogwarts house: slytherin theme song: righteous by juice wrld (  a look at his mental health and the way it he attempts to cope ) & i am by james arthur ( deep dives into his view on himself and how outside opinions of him have effected the way he sees himself ) & empty space by james arthur ( instead of being about a girl this really encapsulates how the loss of his father has affected his life ) traits: charismatic , well-intentioned , affectionate , loyal , jocular , reckless , immature , flippant , short-tempered label: politicians son , miscreant , fuck boy , broken bird , mr. misunderstood , mama’s boy , epicure hidden talents: drawing , singing , master at rubiks cube , skilled card counter ( blackjack )

𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊𝐆𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃

asher was born just eleven months after his sister stephanie , to at the time lobbyist harrison bennett &  prosecutor tamara bennett . a menace as a child , he made dennis the menace look like a saint , basically . at first his parents hoped this was simply just a phase but as time went on it became very clear that  if it were a phase it was going on for much longer than his parents had hoped . his sister immediately taking on the spot of prodigal daughter , while asher took on the spot of black sheep of the family . this didn’t mean that his parents didn’t absolutely adore both of their children , because they did . both taking on daddy’s little girl & mama’s boy respectively , early on . 

around the time asher was seven both of his parents were up for office , his mother for district attorney & his father for u.s representative from wisconsin . the influx of cameras / eyes on the bennett family mixed with the level of stress both his parents were under completely put asher off from the world of politics . despite being in a family that had generational ties to politics on both sides . during a family appearance asher was captured on camera ( both video & photo ) putting up a piece sign behind his sisters head during a speech his father was giving . 

[ tw: death , suicide , loss of a parent ] when asher was twelve his father went on a boating trip with friend , call it a boys trip if you will . two days into the trip news broke of his father being in a major boating accident where harrison was the only one on the boat & was dead upon being found . it later was confirmed by the coroner that his death was likely a suicide .  the loss of harrison was hard on the entire family , it was easy to say it affected asher heavily having locked himself away in his bedroom for nearly a week only leaving his room to go to the bathroom & grab food that he’d return to his room to eat . later , when he returned to school he was suspended just in that school year three times . it was genuinely the beginning to the incredibly reckless version of asher , that we seen since .

despite his antics he played varsity football as a cornerback & varsity soccer as a midfielder . taking up sports at an early age , it was clear he was a born athlete who genuinely enjoyed a little competition . he also took an interest in culinary , he was very much so that kid standing on a step stool as he helped his parents in the kitchen . this interest turned into him attending a vocational / trade highschool instead of an ordinary public school , like he had in elementary & middle . 

when he was fifteen he started a youtube channel where he posted cook with me videos weekly & vlogged his experience within the culinary program at school .

during highschool his mom started getting serious with a professor at the local university . asher , of course , hated the idea of his mom replacing his dad and it took nearly two years & an engagement for him to actually sit down & listen to his mom about the situation . it wasn’t until then that he realized , mason , was supposed to replace his father ... it was simply his mom not allowing herself to get stuck in one place in life & fall into a spiral . once he actually heard her side he gave the guy a chance . turns out the two have alot in common & get along very well . he’ll never replace his father but he respects him none the less .

before he’d even graduated highschool , asher amassed over 1m subscribers , made appearances on the ellen degeneres show & rachel ray show . this was around the time he realized he wanted to turn his hobby into something more than that & hell he was good enough to do so . when graduation came , he’d already committed to attending ucla as a business major with a minor in food studies . 

soon after graduation he went on the show master chef , finishing as runner up , which was one hell of a feat given he’d been the youngest chef on the show . he enjoyed the experience & recognition the show gave him . 

while at ucla he continued to play football he was so good he was receiving national attention to the point where nfl scouts were looking at him . obviously he was still too young to go into the draft but they let him know , this was something that was more than on the table . it was definitely something he loved hearing but at the end of the day , the nfl was never really the goal for asher . so toward the end of his sophomore season when he was suspended for the rest of the season for getting arrested & charged with drug possession & criminal trespassing he took that as the excuse not to return the sport the following season .

this was not the first time ( we know it was not the last *wink wonk* ) asher was arrested . from the end of his middle school days throughout highschool he’d racked up four arrests . his first one taking place in eighth grade & the only reason the misdemeanor charges actually went through were because his mom asked for them to in hopes that it would scare asher from acting out in such a fashion ever again . unfortunately , his actions were rooted in much more than teen rebellion having never accepting or being able to cope with his father’s passing . the charges & arrests that would follow his mom was able to cover up & kind of bury them . that way word didn’t spread like wildfire about her reckless son .

not even a full year removed from football & he’d accepted a tv show offer from food network . a show called asher’s kitchen a primetime half-hour show where a new chef would come on each week if they beat asher in making a 3-course meal they win bragging rights & $20,000 , if they don’t they go home empty handed . despite the shows constant high ratings asher grew bored of the show & left after only two seasons . the network tried to replace him but quickly learned asher’s personality was what really carried the show .

in 2018 , he went on to open his first ever restaurant the smoking goat an american bistro with an upscale vibe in the heart of los angeles . the place is literally his baby & if you can’t find him you can bet your bottom dollar you’ll find him there . whether it’s catching up with regulars or big name celebrities coming through the doors , or throwing on a chef coat and cooking up some of his very own specials . 

around the time of his restaurant opening he started to let up on the youtube channel & it’s now been nearly two years since he’s uploaded & honestly has no intent on returning to the platform . in asher’s eyes , everything has a term limit & his youtube channels time was up .

𝟐𝟎𝟏𝟗 / 𝐑𝐀𝐃𝐈𝐎 𝐒𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄

the timing of his amsterdam arrest was to say the least , horrific . not only was he in talks with several networks ( fox , cbs , netflix , etc ) to have his own daytime food-focused talk show but his mother was at the beginning stages of her 2020 presidential campaign , which she had since put a halt to and decided to continue on with her tenure as a u.s senator from wisconsin . with the headlines of his arrest spreading like wildfire , the internet resurfaced many of his earlier transgressions , the networks inevitably put a halt to going any further in negotiation & the political realm began to turn their attention to the kind of parent the senator was to have a son so ... out of control ? her opposition questioning how she could run a country if she couldn’t so much as raise a law abiding son .

upon his release from jail he took a jet straight home to wisconsin . with the realization of how much harm he’d done to the bennett reputation he made the personal promise to stay away from the media ( no social media , no tv , nothing ) & be the son the political world expected from a politician . his mother ( who is emulated mostly after laura baker from all american ) nearly begged him not to halt his life as a way of personal punishment for his actions . but after months back home & away from the limelight , asher could see the tides turning back in his moms favor & no big network offer ( and there were quite a few that came his way after the news of his arrest subsided ) could pull him back out into the forefront . 

instead opening his second restaurant bennett’s  , an upscale bar & grill in the capital city of wisconsin . he also began work on a cook book that’s kind of taken on a life of it’s own but he’s yet to be anywhere close to finishing that . 

he has inevitably decided to come back & reunite with the bling ring a year later after his family sat him down & kind of had an intervention with him over his persistence to punish himself . claiming they feel he’s matured & gotten a good grasp on himself & that they don’t think he’ll fall into his bad behaviors again . ( spoiler alert: they’re going to be very wrong about this ... just saying / he’s going to return with the intent of being a better guy , being on the “ right track “ but lets be real it’s going to quickly spiral out of control as per usual ) . 

𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐘

as you can probably tell this boy is no good . he’s the guy your parents warn you about , i swear , he will get you into so much trouble & bask in the glory of being the one to give you such an adrenaline rush . he’s big on being here for a good time & not a long time . he just wants to have fun , at any cost . he’s extremely goofy , the kind of guy to whip out some mediocre wrestling moves on you for the sake of getting attention . he doesn’t take much seriously ... until he does ? what im saying is homeboy has one hell of a short temper and once he’s flipped his fuse , he basically blacks out . the reason for this is because no matter how happy & full of life he’d like to come off he has this deep well of anger that swells in him ever since he lost his dad . also a topic that can get him clenching his jaw , do not under any circumstances bring up harrison bennett . very much so a mama’s boy , though , catch him facetiming his mom once a day to tell her how much he loves her & see how she’s doing . he can come off very uncaring at times , it’s easy to say he’s probably one of the most misunderstood people around . he comes off like a douchebag , like someone who has little regard for others & don’t get me wrong he often is both of those things but he isn’t heartless ? when he has time to sit back and think about the damage he does ... it hits him like a mack truck & he goes into a pretty dark place of feeling like he’s a villain but he wants to be the hero of the story ? not very big on apologizing , verbally . if he says sorry you can bet a smug grin is following behind the words . instead he’s big on buying things & even cooking to show he’s sorry . probably not the best way to go about things but this is asher we’re talking about here . he is a flirt & will fuck anything . that’s all i have to say about that . onto his friends ? whew are his friends his world . he is a big proponent of bros before hoes & is an extremely loyal guy - to his friends . a true ride or die type a guy , he’d help he hide a dead body without any explanation at so what happened . a big move now ask questions later kinda dude .

𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒

BREATHE BY JAMES ARTHUR : he has a soft spot for her . he always has . she’s one of the only girls who doesn’t drool over him , they’ve never hooked up to any extent and that’s due in large part to her telling him from the beginning that the only way she’d give him a chance was if he straightened up his act & proved to her that he was worth her time . if there is a girl out there who can asher for the better , it’s her . but everytime she thinks she’s gotten him on the right path , she catches him either acting out or reverting to his fuck boy ways & getting with girl’s who he doesn’t have to put so much work into .

SAME SQUAD BY P-LO : let’s be real these three originated “saturdays are for the boys” . they’ve been boys for as long as they can remember . if you see one of them around you can rest assured the other two are in the vicinity . they’re the best of friends . they know everything there is to know about each other . all a bit reckless , but that’s what makes them such a fun trio . a very homiesexual bond takes place between these three & nothing & nobody could get between them .

CLOSE FRIENDS BY LIL BABY & GUNNA : they were once good friends , things spiraled past the point of their control , lines got blurred & then they were dating . the relationship as a whole was one no one thought would last . to give them credit things were good at first but after he cheated & she found out from a friend about it things started to go down hill . things only got worse when he was persistent in lying to her about the situation . she inevitably took him back & not too much later the arrest in amsterdam happened . before he was even released from jail , she was sent a video of him & one of his friends talking about sleeping with a prostitute . although it never happened the fact that was his intent was enough for her . his expectation was that because she forgave him before she’d wipe away the pain of him once again not having regard for their relationship & forgive him but she just couldn’t . when he came out to her forwarding the video to him , he decided to ignore the situation completely . the two have not had any contact for nearly a year & never really broke up or spoke about the situation . 

NO FRAUDS BY NICKI MINAJ & DRAKE & LIL WAYNE : the perfect ride or die squad . the media likes to say someone in the trio is dating at any point in time but , that’s just not the case . these three are always getting into something . the true depiction of always having your friends back . they will lie for each other , fight for each other , anything to prove their loyalty to each other .  

i also have some musing posts here , if you want to give that a look !

#𝓲. ‹ 🍾 › 𝓪𝓼𝓱𝓮𝓻 𝓫𝓮𝓷𝓷𝓮𝓽𝓽 ◟ INTRO . #bling:intro