#AND YOU SOUND LIKE A KICKED PUPPY WHEN THEY BITE YOU CAUSE GODDAMN THAT SHIT HURT | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

smuggsy · 3 years

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i would love to see #11 for the prompt thing (just want to say i adore ur current ed/oswald/omc series btw im excited for more! <3)

owww, thank you so much <3 it's nice to hear ppl are actually enjoying it bc i've got almost no feedback. another chapter is coming soon (;

but now onto the whump below the cut. #11 “Please, let me help you.”

Getting used to his impaired vision is no easy task, he'll admit. Now that the doctor's made a thorough job of cleaning the wound and administering antibiotics to prevent infection and prescribed him two different kinds of painkillers and now that the initial shock of it all has passed. Now it downs on Oswald that this is who he's going to be from now on, that watching his step carefully when he goes down the stairs and bumping into walls that are closer than they seem is something he's going to have to get used to.

As if walking around with a limp and a cane wasn't demeaning enough already. He lets out a grunt as he finally makes it to the kitchen, everything is sunk in darkness and he fails to turn on the lights two times before he finally finds the switch.

He sees the switch. He knows where it is. It's always been there, in that exact same spot, and he's walked into the kitchen in the middle of the night to fix himself some tea countless times before.

Now the switch has moved.

"Urrgh," he grunts one more time as he turns around and collides against the kitchen aisle. He nearly grabs one of the chairs and tosses it across the room, a sudden rush of adrenaline and fury coursing through his sleep-deprived mind.

There's a pang behind his eyepatch as if mocking his helplessness but he calms down soon enough, closing his good eye and taking a deep breath to brace himself against the counter. He manages to put the kettle on without any further incidents, but when he stands on his toes to reach the cabinet —how many times has he told Olga to keep that stupid tea-set at hand?!— he topples over and ends up sending two very nice cups to their deaths.

They crash on the floor with a piercing sound and Oswald startles and grits his teeth at the commotion.

Deep breaths, deeeeeep breaths.

Choosing to ignore the incident he turns around to switch off the gas with trembling hands and pour the water into the one cup he did manage to obtain.

Except, of course, his mind is still foggy from restless sleep and drugs so he misjudges the angle entirely and ends up pouring it all over his hand holding the teabag in place instead.

He lets out a yelp and drops the kettle instantly.

"Ow! Shit! Stupid little—!"

The water drips onto the floor unceremoniously as he tumbles over to reach the water tap and put his hand under it.

Ed barges into the place only half a minute later wielding a handgun, with hair sticking out and with his glasses askew. Oswald barely spares him a glance, blood boiling under his skin and dangerously close to the edge already.

"Oswald, what—"

"Nothing!" he blurts out almost immediately. Edward bearing witness to this mess is the last thing he needs right now, "just go away."

But, of course, he's Edward.

"What happened?" his friend asks, pistol forgotten on some nearby shelf and rushing over, words the slightest bit slurred by slumber and Oswald thinks lucky you, being able to get a wink of sleep, and takes another of those deep breaths that are doing a poor job of slowing down his heart rate.

"What does it look like it happened, Ed?!"

Edward stares at him numbly and then his eyes dart around the place like he's only now taking it all in, seeing the shattered china on the floor and the pool of water by their feet. Immediately he brings both hands to Oswald's under the cold water from the tap and tugs at it.

"Let me see."

Oswald jerks him away.

"No— I'm fine!" he bites out, "go back to sleep."

Despite his ill-mannered humour, Edward doesn't move. Oswald doesn't look at him while he stands next to him in silence, letting the waters cool, clearly giving him a moment to backtrack on his request. And then, ever so softly, Ed's hands return, to his elbow this time. A touch too gentle it almost makes Oswald let out a whine — because he's tired, and aching, and sleepy and nothing turns out for him as of late.

"Please, let me help you."

His words are a caress in Oswald's ear. Barely there. Ed keeps his warm fingers on his arm and slowly brings the hand to his chest for inspection. Oswald lets him, this time. All energy seems to leave him with that puff of breath and he lets Ed guide him to one of those chairs he was contemplating taking all of his frustrations out on just a minute ago.

There's a slight hiss of sympathy.

"Should be alright with a little cream and a bandage," is Edward's assessment.

Oswald rolls his eyes and fights down a sappy retort much like: yes, I know that, I'm not so incompetent that I need you here to issue an official diagnosis, just leave me to rage in peace. He nods tiredly instead, shoulders slumped and yawn unavoidable.

"I'll be right back," Ed says with a hoarse voice, moving around quickly despite his dishevelled appearance, looking perfectly awake now but sounding nothing like it.

Oswald doesn't try to stop him. Because he knows it'll be a lost cause and because he's afraid if he starts poking too much at the situation he'll end up embarrassing himself and crying out his frustrations on Ed's shoulder.

Not ideal.

So he keeps silent instead, watching Ed's expert hands apply that cold salve on his knuckles and wrap his aching red-looking skin in a white bandage, giving up on not looking miserable because what's the point.

He is miserable.

"There, all done."

Ed pats him twice on the thigh as if comforting a hurting animal and Oswald can only offer a small scoff in return. He can smell Ed's shampoo from where he's standing so close and he keeps his eyes fixed on that loose crumpled white shirt he wears to sleep, afraid to look up into the gentle eyes he knows he'll find behind those glasses.

Because he might start blurting out stuff that shouldn't be blurt out if he does, as helpless and exhausted as he's beginning to feel.

"Now let's get you that cup of tea."

Ed turns around to make himself busy and Oswald takes the opportunity to scatter away.

"Where—"

"Sofa," he crooks out deadpan.

That's where Ed finds him ten minutes later, staring at the unlit fireplace as if willing it to come to life on its own. Sitting on his usual spot with the lights off and a glassy look of resignation.

"Chamomile," Ed says as he offers the steaming cup. Oswald doesn't have the heart to tell him he's changed his mind and would rather down a glass or two of that aged Scotch instead. He takes a sip without muttering out a word. Ed sits down just beside, clearly not taking the hint, "you're uncharacteristically quiet."

Oswald shrugs.

"Just tired," he offers, and then, only to put Ed's mind at ease, gives him a practised look of reassurance and a smile, "I didn't mean to wake you up."

Edward turns the attention back to him, ignoring the clear dismissal implicit in the words.

"Did you go to sleep at all?"

"Yes."

"Is your eye bothering you?"

And then the Oswald from the kitchen returns without a warning and he lashes out.

"Goodnight, Ed."

Edward goes to speak again but stops himself when Oswald sends him a sharp menacing look. He looks nothing short of a kicked puppy as he gets on his feet and turns around to leave.

And then he doesn't leave.

"I could start a fir—"

"Goddamn it, Ed! Just leave me alone!"

And just like that the fourth and last cup of that lovely set ceases to exist, turned into another pile of shattered porcelain on the floor. Because Edward Nygma is a pain in his fucking ass, and he doesn't know how to read an indirect and back down and just disappear. He pokes and pokes and pokes—

—and when Oswald turns to look at him with that murderous glare, he sees no reaction from him. Clearly, this was his intention all along, from the very first moment he walked into that kitchen, to see just how much he could take, to push until he broke, to make him talk about it.

Oswald should have learnt to read Edward Nygma by now. Should’ve seen it coming.

As Ed strides back to him with purpose and swiftly sits back down on the sofa and leans in to wrap him into an embrace, Oswald understands he definitely still hasn't learnt to read Edward Nygma.

"What are you doing?" he pushes him away half-heartedly with his good hand. Edward doesn't let go, an unmovable brick wall that cannot be swayed.

"I'm hugging you."

"Let go—"

"No."

Oswald blinks. Then lets out a breathless laugh. He can't seem to fathom any other reaction to this — provided this is actually happening. Provided it isn't a secondary effect of being drugged up to his eyeballs for a whole week, now.

He stops trying to tug Edward away and instead slumps against him, head resting on a slim shoulder and cold and runny nose poking Ed's neck as he keeps giggling at the unprecedented gesture.

Edward's hug is implacable but awkward. He doesn't move, his broad hands against Oswald's back just pin him in place almost in a possessive fashion. He's clearly unskilled in the ways of physical reassurance.

Oswald realises those nervous giggles he's letting out are actually sobs.

#ta-da!#thank you really. i needed to get this out #whump nygmobblepot is the best nygmobblepot #nygmobblepot #edward nygma #ed nygma #the riddler #the penguin #oswald cobblepot #nygmobblepot fanfic #riddlebird #gotham tv #gotham fox #gotham #my writing #answered #i wrote this instead of studying

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ioon · 3 years

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Shigaraki x Reader (nsfw)

It’s Just a Game

Content:

- creampie - degrading language - rough sex -

“Aha!! Finally! Eat dirt Shiga!”

“Goddamn it (Y/n) I swear-“

Shigaraki bit back something vulgar, you could tell by how he stopped himself, but you couldn’t help but laugh instead. It was fun watching him get cranky, his ego cracking every time you beat him in his favorite game. It's about time someone knocked him down a few pedestals.

“Oh sorry what was that?” You leaned in closer to him, pretending like you didn’t hear what he just said, “I can’t hear you over how I just kicked your ass.” You laughed louder, dramatically kicking your feet in the air. Yeah sure you were being extra, but fuck it, am I right?

He sucked his teeth in response, tossing the controller across the messy room. “Shut the fuck up.” He said bitterly, and you dramatically clutched your chest, mouthing the words ‘owch.’ He rolled his eyes, “You just got lucky, there’s nothing to it.”

“So I got lucky four times in a row then, huh?” You smiled smugly at him, and he snarled.

“Keep talking and-“

“You’ll beat me at another game? Yeah save it.” You stood, tossing the controller onto the pillow you sat on, “While you’re busy sulkin’ imma get a snack, a winner does deserve some R&R, dontcha think?”

“Get the fuck out before I kill you.”

You let out a cheesy ‘teehee’ before sticking your tongue out and leaving.

••

You stretched as you made your way back in the room with a full belly, turns out Kurogiri had some good grub hiding away. Now? You were in for a nap. Throwing your body onto Shigaraki’s bed, you cuddled one of the many pillows he had and huffed, he would just have to sleep on the floor tonight. You were just about to fall into a much needed slumber until your body was suddenly flipped, and without much time to react, your hands were bound to the headboard. “What the fuuuuck?” Is all you could let out as you squint to see who dared to straddle your waist, and to little to no surprise it was- drumroll please… Shigaraki. “What in the hell are you doing?” You barked, yanking at the belt that ruthlessly dug into your skin.

“Playing a game I know I can beat you in.”

“Are you kidding? And what’s that huh?” You asked, completely naive to his intentions, “How am I even going to play a game like thi”

“God you’re such a dumb bitch.” He smirked to himself, and you couldn’t help but close your legs at the rude remark, “Not even sure how you beat me so many times that being true, but that doesn’t matter now.”

His hand gripped your hair, yanking it back while he leaned in close, his voice raspy, “I bet you’re wondering what this game is, hm?”

You groaned, bucking your hips in hopes to toss him off you, but it didn’t do anything, which did not surprise you. “God! What is it already? And your yanking hurts.!” You yelped, and he only pulled harder, causing teardrops to sting the corners of your eyes.

“So impatient, but fine, whoever cums first, loses.”

“What?” you choked out nervously.

“I know you fucking heard me.” He snapped back, and he was right, you did hear him, but you couldn’t quite grasp it, the same goes for the bulged you felt poking into your stomach, everything was moving too fast, and happening too suddenly. “You wanna be a bratty bitch huh?” His words pulled you from your thoughts as he nipped at your throat, leaving red bite marks down your exposed neck, you whimpered in response, legs softly kicking underneath him

“Shigaraki you’ve.. you’ve gotta be kidding me.! We can just play another video game you nerd!” You huffed, trying to shake your head- but the rough hand gripping your hair didn’t let you move without wincing.

“Shut up before I gag you.”

You closed your mouth, lips pressed tightly together as you squirmed underneath him- but instead of getting off, his hand held your shirt, all five, disintegrating the fabric, leaving you exposed to the cool air, and his gaze. “I’ll never get used to this.” he mumbled to himself, his hand ridding of your bra next, and soon you were completely bare.

You gasped, “This is embarrassing Shiga.!”

“Mm yeah it is..” he finally moved his hand from your hair, but quickly put them to use by exploring your body. His rough fingers prickled your skin, sending gentle shivers up your spine. “God you’re so fucking sexy..”

You felt your cheeks heat up, “You’ve seen me a thousand times alrea- ah!” His hands gripped your breasts, fondling and kneeding at your soft tits, all the while he put his mouth to work; tongue swirling around your already hard nipple, sucking on the bud before biting ever so softly. You let out soft moans, your back arching at the much wanted attention and for fucks sake why was this nerd so good at this.. you couldn’t help but rub your legs together, desperate for any type of friction while Shigaraki slurped and kissed your breasts hungrily.

“I love your tits..”

You quivered, rolling your hips against Shiga’s, his blunt words doing things to you, “Please just.. fuck me already..” You begged, something you hated doing but- today was an acception. You didn’t give two shits about this little game he was playing, all you wanted now was his cock stretching you out.

“So eager to lose, too bad you don’t have a say in shit (y/n).” You felt his breathy laugh heat up your wet chest before he sat up, shuffling to where his crotch was just below your breasts.

“What’re you-“

“Can you be more naive?” He unzipped his pants, his thick cock springing out as he freed himself, “I’m gonna fuck your tits.” With that his hands worked at the belt tying you down, “Hold your tits together, tightly.” He commanded, and you listened.

“After this..” you looked up at him through your eyelashes, “you’ll.. fuck me.. right.?”

“Hmm..” he looked down at you, haphazardly stroking his cock, your hands pressing your pretty tits together, puppy eyes staring up at him. Fuuuck.. did you look delicious.. if he didn’t set that stupid ass rule, he would be balls deep in your cunt. “We’ll see.” He replied dryly, hands moving to grip the headboard for support as he pushed his cock in between your breasts, his hips moved slowly, slicking the tight space with his precum before he slowly picked up the pace. He shuddered when you pressed harder against him, practically milking his cock. “Ah.. if you’re a good little slut then.. mmh.. then maybe.”

You whined, feeling your cunny gush as you watched your boyfriend’s dick fuck your tits. You wanted more.. you wanted his cum.

Your tongue stuck out and opened wide, lifting your head slightly to catch the tip of his cock in your mouth, sucking up whatever musky precum leaked out.

You felt him buck, his hips snapping forward whenever he pulled back. “Oh fuck you’re such a whore.. a little slut.” He growled, the sight of you desperately trying to get him off.. did things to him, “You like that huh? Me using your tits as my fucktoy?” He thrusted harder, and you moaned in response. “Use your fucking words.”

“Yes.. yes I like it..” you said shyly, “I like it when you use me.. Tomura..”

Something in him snapped, the way you said his name, how you practically moaned it.. “Fuckfuckfuck..!” He groaned loudly, throwing his head back, the want- no, the need to cum all over you overcame him. Fuck this who ever cums first loses shit, tonight he was going to decorate your body with his seed.

You could only let out tiny whimpers as your boyfriend leaked all over you, “Fuck (Y/n)” he looked down at you, “open wide for me, m’ so close..” he breathed out, and you complied, your mouth widened as you gazed up at him, doughy eyes practically begging for it. “Fuck… yeah.. keep looking at me like that whore..”

His thrusts became sloppier, desperate as he chased his own release, and soon enough it came- or should I say he came. Thick ropes of cum spewed out of his slit, most of the milk landing on your tongue, but it still covered your tits and face. He slowed down, dragging out his thrusts as you squeezed and sucked out any cum that stuck to his tip. “You’re such a good fucking girl, you know that right?” He growled out before getting off you, his cock somehow still hard. “Now strip slut.”

Your face couldn’t get redder as you peeled off your thin shorts, along with your soaked panties. He hummed in approval, “Hands and knees, stick your ass out too, like a good girl.” You huffed, all these commands.. but you listened, flipping to your tummy and pushing yourself up, your ass in the air.

“Come on Tomura…” you mumbled, “Pleaaseee..”

A hard slap came down on your cheeks, leaving them stinging, “Shut the fuck up bitch. God, why are you so needy?” His hands roughly gripped your waist, long unkept fingernails digging into your plush skin as he held you still. “Who’s cock are you a slut for, hm?” You felt his wet tip slick against your pussy, rubbing against your hard clit teasingly.

Your back arched, making an attempt to push yourself against his cock, fuck if he wasn’t holding you down right now.. “Please To-“ another slap met your ass, interrupting your pathetic pleading.

“You don’t listen do you?”

You pushed your face into his pillow guiltily, he groaned annoyingly in response, he was tired of playing. How his cock twitched against your entrance, craving to fill you to the brim while he watched you beg for it to end.. shit..

He couldn’t wait.

His thick cock pushed into you, stretching out your tight little cunny, “You feel so good..” he groaned, slowly inching farther into you.

Your pussy felt full already, he had no right to have this big of a dick… you gripped the blankets underneath you, pulling gently as you moaned out.

You heard him whimper as your walls twitched around him, he sat there for a moment before thrusting ruthlessly, catching you by surprise. “F-fuck.!” You cried out, your body bouncing as he slipped in and out of your cunny. His cock went impossibly deeper every time he met your waist, the room filling with lewd sounds of your pussy being fucked and your desperate moans.

“P-please.! Tomura.! Too.. too fast..” you whimpered, his cock kissing your cervix every time he thrusted in, shaping your cunny to fit him perfectly.

“Fuuck..!” His hand came down on your sore ass, again, and again, and again, you were crying by the time he finished. Your tears staining the pillow under you as he fucked you senseless, the pain and pleasure leaving you in a stupor. “That’s what a slut like you gets.” He grunted, his hips moving impossibly faster, “You asked for this didn’t you? For your boyfriend to fuck the shit out of this sloppy pussy?”

“Mmh..! Ah! More.! Make me..” you whimpered, your hips bucking against him, “please make me cum..”

He gladly took the invitation, reaching his hand to your dripping cunt, “You’re so damn horny aren’t you..” he growled into your ear, “Your juices are practically wetting the bed… just begging to be used more..”

Your back arched against him as his finger rubbed your clit, slowly swirling around the hard bud while he rutted against you. You couldn’t do anything but tremble and whimper, your sweet cunny twitching around his thrusting cock, his fingers adding to the much welcomed pleasure.

You could feel it coming, your body began to tense, eyes rolling as your mouth gaped open. “Yes.! Yesyes..!!” Your legs clenched around Tomura’s wrist as he sped up, finger rolling roughly against your clit as his thrusts continued to be unforgiving, his own release just around the corner.

“M’ gonna fill you up (y/n), god you’re gonna be so full when I’m done..” he cooed, nibbling at your neck greedily.

Shit.. a wave of intense pleasure ran through you, your toes curling all the while pathetic moans filled the room, Tomura’s fingers slowly riding out your climax, the rough pads of his finger gently pressing on your clit, all the while his cock did the same, his pace slowing, letting you fall from your high.

You were left tired, your chest falling to the bed below, your arms too weak to keep yourself up, “Thank you… thank you Tomura..” you mumbled, your mind in a daze as he slicked his finger along your cunny one more time before bringing it to your mouth. You didn’t think twice before opening up to suck on his digits, tongue swirling around his fingers, lathering your tongue with your own musky-sweet taste.

You heard him whisper something, but that didn’t matter, his thrusts picked up the pace again, hands once again digging into your waist as he bottomed out in your cunny, his balls slapping against your sensitive clit sent shocks up your spine, waking you up immediately. “N-Nghh!!” You let out choked whines as he used you, your body bouncing embarrassingly against him.

“Fuck I’m gonna… I’m gonna cum (y/n)..” he grunted, his breath loud and heavy as he threw his head back, your pussy feeling hot and tight around his cock, no matter how many times he fucked you stupid. His nails dug painfully in your flesh again, you could feel your skin aching as he gripped you.

“Please.. please.. cum..”

Your words snapped something inside of him; his thrusts became sporadic, sloppy even as you felt thick hot pools of cum fill you. He pumped a few more times, your little pussy milking him greedily as his seed began to spill from your tight hole, a lewd mess of both of your juices staining the sheets.

“Fuuuck (y/n)...” he hummed lowly, pulling out slowly to watch all his cum spill out of you, the sudden emptiness making you whine. You expected him to lay next to you but instead he spread your cheeks to get a better view, your twitching hole gaping, leaking. “God you’re so sexy.. can you cum for me one more time?”

His lips met your cunny suddenly, causing your hips to buck sharply. He sloppily slurped up everything you spilled, and soon he worked at your clit, tongue rolling against it, swirling longingly. “F-Fuck!!” You yelped, this was- way too much, “Tomura I- I can’t, no.!” You pleaded, clearly overstimulated, but he couldn’t care less. Instead of listening, he sucked harshly on the hard bud, leaving you squirming under his mouth.

“God.. you taste good with my cum in you..” he mumbled, kissing your cunny before dragging a long tripe up your folds, he was greedy, “You’re gonna cum on my face,” he slapped your ass harshly, gripping it afterwards, “you hear me bitch?”

You whimpered pathetically, too blinded by Tomura’s tongue slipping against you to respond. It didn’t take long before you were biting the pillow under you, feeling your cunny tighten as his tongue made short thrusts in and out your pussy. The familiar feeling engulfed you, pure bliss swallowed you while as you came on his mouth, your cunt gushing all over his face.

“Mm (y/n) you did so good..” sat up, letting your hips fall as he laid beside you, “for a stupid bitch in heat that is.” He said cockily as his arm pulled you close, your tired body laying against him.

“Oh just.. shut up..” you groaned annoyingly. The temptation to roll to the other side of the bed nicked at you- but if you were honest, his warm body flush against yours made you feel nice. “You still lost your own game..” you murmured.

“Fucking smartass.” He gripped your chin, forcing you to face him, “Even after I made you feel like bliss, you’re still a fucking pain in the ass.”

His lips met yours, it was a sweet, simple kiss before he let you go, allowing your head to rest on his forearm.

“You still love me though..” you said tiredly.

“.. Sure sure, go to sleep already.”

#my hero academy fanfiction #fanfic #mha smut #smut #bnha smut #boku no hero x reader #bnha x reader #x reader #shigaraki x you #shigaraki smut

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alovesthis · 3 years

Text

All Things Must Pass - Dean Winchester CHAPTER FOUR

Dean Winchester x Female!Reader Fic

Fic Summary: Reader, her sister Stevie and the Winchesters reunite after not seeing each other in a few years. Ever since Dean told her to leave him and his issues behind, reuniting wasn’t what you expected it would be like. Hunting, past feelings, memories and a life threatening situation that was placed upon Dean Winchester creates tension between you two and everything else.

Warnings: Slight violence, some angst

Word Count: 2.3k

CHAPTER FOUR

There’s too many people in the club to even count. People are practically piling up on each other, sharing drinks and dancing under neon lights. Awful electronic music pounds against the walls. Sam holds the door open for you, Stevie and Dean as you make your way outside, annoyed and discouraged that you weren’t able to locate a man named Dixon. The brisk air slaps the side of your face and your hands immediately stuffs inside your leather jacket pocket. This reminds you that you need to get your hands on a much warmer one for the colder seasons and one that is a lot more flexible for your job.

You listen to Dean and Sam complain what the hell you guys were going to do next, especially without having anymore leads to go off of. Before you even think about turning around consulting Dean about killing the vampire earlier (thinking about how she could’ve been a lot more useful then just getting the name of a club and a man to him) you run your fingers in your hair and turn your head to the side.

Coming to a complete stop, your eyes catch another set of eyes looking your way as she nearly glides in your direction. Her hair bounces and her hips sway, dark clothes compressed to her skin. Your eyes drag up from her leather clad feet all the way to her deep cut shirt showing off bust. They finally reach her face again, noticing her unusual pale face and round eyes. Your mouth is ajar and your breath is taken away from her and the powerful wind that blows by. You’re blinking a few times to readjust yourself as you finally get caught by her.

As your eyes catch each others you notice she’s biting her lip as she walks towards you. Suddenly, you’re beginning to panic just like any other person who comes your way. You shake your head to rid your thoughts of the blonde that catches your eye and then it hits you. She looks exactly like Lucy, if not a carbon copy. But no, this isn’t a shapeshifter case. The realization comes to you that Dixon is drugging women that look exactly like each other for some odd and creepy reason.

She passes by with a wink, her teeth still hooked onto her bottom lip.

“Well shit.” You whisper.

“Yeah…” Dean says breathlessly as he stands beside you, looking off into the distance at the woman.

In seconds you feel Stevie pulling on your forearm, trying to get you and even Dean to pay attention.

“Um, hello?”

You’re clearing your throat as you turn around, coming face to face clear your throat turning around to stare at both Stevie and Sam. They’re looking at you and Dean as if you did something wrong, like children who got caught stealing something. Eyes are flickering back and forth between you and Dean in amusement that you were checking out the same woman and in bewilderment.

“Yeah,” you’re shaking your head clearing your thoughts, “what’s up?”

“Well...Sam was just saying maybe we need to head back to the motel and just figure things out there. Do more research and call in other hunters that might know something?”

You raise your hand and point to your sister, squinting your eyes in understanding.

“Actually, you’re in luck. I think I just figured something out.”

Sam and Stevie tilt their heads at the same time as if they’re twins.

“How… how’s that?” Sam asks.

“We literally just walked out of the club and you two are over here drooling over the same woman!” Stevie exclaims as she laughs.

“And did you happen to even look at the woman, Stevie?”

“Son of a bitch.” Dean figures it out just a few minutes after you did. You turn to him and nod your head, confirming that the woman who had just walked by really did look like Lucy.

“Well, did you Stevie?” Dean asks. “Did you see the way she was dressed, hell did you get a good look at her-”

Stevie jabs her finger into his chest, “okay, listen buddy just because I love women doesn't mean I check out every goddamn one that walks by-”

“Okay kid, calm down.” Dean rolls his eyes. “I didn’t mean it like that, I’m just saying if you saw what we saw, you’d know-”

You cut him off, “let’s put it this way. That woman? Looked exactly like Lucy and I’m pretty sure Dean killed her. And since this isn’t shapeshifter case, I’d say that maybe Dixon has a type.”

You start walking and wave your hand for them to follow.

Sam nods his head, “A type...yeah you know what, that sounds right. Three blondes went missing including Lucy. So what now? There’s no way he’s not hiding around here in the club.”

“I don’t know man,” Dean shakes his head.

“They were all last sighted here, Dean. I’m telling you, this is the hunting ground.”

“It is the perfect place for someone like him.” You reason.

Dean and you are stopping in your tracks in sync as both of your eyes focus on the woman you were checking out, now in the arms of a man across the street. In panic, you’re slapping your hand and holding onto Dean’s bicep. He looks down at your hand then to your eyes then back at the couple.

“Guys.” Dean points ahead to them for Sam and Stevie to catch on.

“Guess we found the guy.” Stevie says.

You and Dean turn around and stare at her, talking in unison.

“We?”

“Thanks to us.”

Sam pats you and Dean on the shoulder as he walks past you to catch up to the couple. Following in suit, you’re catching up to them up in yet another familiar alleyway. You split up again, this time you take Stevie and Dean takes Sam to approach them from a different direction. Everything is moving fast for the first time all night since Lucy attacked you.

As Dean uses his left hand to stop him from pouring the blood in her mouth, he balls his fist up and throws a nasty punch to the guys jaw, causing him to fall over on the ground. Stevie pushes me to the side as she steps in from basically nowhere and starts kicking the man in the side with her hard ankle work boots.

“So you like drugging women with your goddamn vamp blood, huh?” She spits.

“Hey, go get out of here!” Sam grabs the blonde and guides her back. “Go, go!”

You’re yelling at Stevie to get her to stop so that you and Dean can get him tied up. Once you grab at her, the man stands up from the ground and tackles Stevie into the wet brick wall before you pull her away from him. Stevie’s head hits the brick once his hands wrap around her throat, his head tilting back getting ready to bite into her. You’re practically growling in anger, running and launching your fist into the side of his face where Dean got him good just minutes before. He lets Stevie go from a chokehold and turns around, a monstrous anger expression plays on his face. Stevie falls to the ground hard and Sam runs over to hold her.

Dixon, presumably, stands back up from being punched and tries to take his anger out on you. He lunges forward but Dean instantly pushes him before he can get to you.

“Is Stevie good?” You call out, as you watch your sister curse in pain.

“She’s fine!” Sam yells at him as he holds onto your sister. “Dean!”

You bend down to help Dean up and he takes your hand tight as he rises up. Dixon is gone, running away after he had previously knocked Dean into the brick wall.

“I’m good.” He stares at you, then at Sam. “Let’s go.”

“I’ll stay behind, get Stevie back to the motel.” You explain. “Go! Before he leaves.”

The brothers nod at you and start running off around the corner of the alleyway and out of your sight. You grab onto Stevie’s waist and lift her arm around your shoulder to help her walk, but she’s shrugging you off.

“Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m just pissed I didn’t get to finish knocking him out some more.”

“I meant your body. You’ll bruise from the body slams.”

“This is our life, Y/N/N.” Stevie shrugs. “Gotta get used to it.”

“I’ll never get used to seeing my little sister getting beat up and hurt, alright? Let’s just head back to the motel so I can take care of you and get you some pills for the pain.”

Stevie nods, an empathetic smile shows through the pain as they walk side by side together and to the motel.

Sam and Dean are gone for what feels like hours. The sun still isn’t up yet and the night continues to drag and still, you don’t have any clue what the hell this case even is anymore and what to do. Part of you is telling yourself to leave Stevie here and go out looking for the boys and help. The other is telling you to stay and wait for them. Minutes turn into an hour, but it feels like longer. You can’t take it anymore.

You’re throwing on your jacket in annoyance and concern for the boys who still aren’t here. You reach for the motel room door but then the lock clicks and it opens revealing Sam breathless and sweaty.

“What the fuck happened?” You ask, walking backwards to let him inside. “Where’s Dean, did Dixon take him?”

“I don’t know! He doesn’t fit the M.O.”

“Sam,” you say, trying to get serious.

“There were two men with guns once we ran around the corner. It wasn’t the guy from before, it was man named Gordon Walker. A hunter.”

“Okay, so what does that have to do with Dean?”

“Doesn’t really, but we know him and he knows us. He’s been on our trail for quite some time.”

“That man was Dixon, right?” Sam nods his head in response. “And he disappeared...damn it.”

An hour or two passes you all by, and still no word or face from Dean.

Sam paces back and fort then sits down on the dresser, his back against the mirror. He takes a look at you and Stevie on the bed and furrows his brows in his puppy eyed expression he always does when he’s upset, or heartbroken.

“Is she alright?”

“Nothing she can’t handle.” You say, trying to make Sam not worry. “She’ll be okay, just needs the rest.”

“I should’ve done something-”

“Sam, things happened really fast.”

“You’re right, but-”

The door suddenly swings open, making Stevie groan as she was just getting to fall asleep moments before.

“There you are!” Sam shouts.

Dean comes walking in with a massive grin, “Yeah.”

“Yeah?” You rise up from the bed. “Where were you all this time?”

“Sorry guys, I stopped for a slice.”

“You’re an ass.”

“I know I am, sweetheart.”

You roll your eyes and glance at Sam, waving your hand at him to deal with it.

“Nice move you pulled back there, Dean!” Sam shouts at him. “Seriously, running straight into weapons?”

“What can I say, I’m badass.”

You feel Stevie shifting on the bed, sitting up and laughing, “Yeah, you are!”

“Don’t praise him,” You say. “It’ll inflate his ego.”

Dean turns around and shoots you a frazzled expression, “Why are you being mean now?”

“Don’t be a child.” You smile.

“Seriously Dean,” Sam shakes his head. “You-”

They boys stop talking as a phone begins to ring obnoxiously loud. It’s Dean’s cell. He’s not answering and he keeps talking to Sam once it stops.

“So I guess Gordon’s out of jail.”

Gordon, another hunter, the one Sam mentioned to you earlier is hunting them down.

“Uh, yeah guess so… How the hell did he know where to find us?”

Dean shrugs and looks around the room and for a moment he catches your curious eyes and then lands on your sister who looks and is extremely exhausted. You’re watching him as he looks like his gears are grinding in his head, as if he was trying to figure something out. You watch as his his ears go back, his eyes going wide.

“That bitch.”

He takes out his phone, dialing a number and waits with his lips pursed. “Hi, Bela!”

Bela. Now who the hell is Bela?

“Question for you! When you called me yesterday, It wasn’t to thank me for saving your ass, was it…”

You stare at them as Dean talks to someone on the phone, his tone of voice laced with sarcasm and annoyance. Tuning him out, feeling as if you’re intruding, you turn around to Stevie to ask if she needs anything. Her answer for what she needs is snarky, mentioning she’d like a vacation and to crack open all the books the hunting life never let her finished.

After a few minutes, you hear Dean become much more angrier, his voice gets deeper and raspier.

“Bela, if we make it out of this alive, the first thing I’m gonna do is kill you….Listen to my voice and tell me I’m not serious.”

Silence fills the room as he hangs up his cell and sighs.

“Who’s Bela?” Stevie winks at Dean.

“No one you would wanna know, kid.”

“Is that you trying to protect me, or saving her for yourself?”

Dean tilts his head, taken back at her slick comment but shakes his head in annoyance. You can’t help but feel a bit of jealousy running around in your stomach.

“I totally missed having you around.” He says sarcastically to Stevie.

“So you boys wanna fill us in now?” You ask.

Quickly, Sam and Dean are catching you and Stevie up on everything in between with who Gordon is and why he’s hunting Sam down. You and Stevie weren’t surprised the boys are constantly met with enemies along the road, considering hunting was never safe in the first place.

And because you had a few enemies of your own.

here’s the AO3 link to the fic for chapters 1-4.

https://archiveofourown.org/users/womanwhowritesformany

chapters 1-4 are on my tumblr: search on my profile “All Things Must Pass Chapter __” for previous chapters!

TAGLIST (if you want to be added, just ask!):

@akshi8278 @deanswaywardgirl @canonboobs @vikkiwalker

#dean winchester #dean x female!reader #dean x reader #dean winchester fic #spn fanfic #supernatural #spn season 3 #supernatural fanfic #fanfiction #fanfics #spn family #spn fandom #bi!dean #bi!reader #sam winchester #ofc stevie

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suntumarchive · 3 years

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Argonian Mpreg Birth/Oviposition~ This is my first time writing something like that so bear with me pls! It starts off painful, but he starts to reaaally enjoy it~ Not SFW ahead :3c He believes it’s a parasite at first so please be careful if that’s not your thing!

___

Something… didn’t feel right.

Even though Claudinei couldn’t put his finger on it, he simply knew that something was wrong with him. The fatigue weighing down on his body and the ache in his muscles weren’t a result of excessive fighting; not this time. It felt different. Worse. This kind of pain was much harder to bear than the usual leftovers of his battles.

The Argonian wasn’t one to be prone to sickness, so it was unusual for him to experience these symptoms. The outbursts of sweat, waves of nausea and the dull pain in his abdomen were almost foreign to him. Claudinei tried to recall the last time he’d experienced them with this intensity… Sure, sometimes he ended up drinking a bit too much ale and wine, or eating a bit too much of the raw meat he enjoyed so much, but not this time… In fact, he’d spent the past few days with Faendal, the Bosmer huntsman of Riverwood, who was a rather decent cook and refused to serve his venison raw, even to his half-animal friend. So… why? What could Claudinei’s body be so upset about?

The lizard man let out a breathy groan, biting down on his lip as he forced himself to keep walking uphill - despite his rebelling insides begging him to stop. Mentally, he was fighting a war against himself, torn between wanting to succumb to his struggling body, and needing to find an apparent hideout of the so called Silver Hand. Werewolf hunters. Murderers. A threat to his pack. The Companions relied on him. His people relied on him. They were the closest thing to a family that he had… There was just no time for breaks when pack members could be in danger right now.

There was a good reason why Claudinei had joined the Companions in the first place. He had so much raw energy and anger in his heart, and paired with his desire to do good, it was a weapon against himself and the few people he cared about. Ever since he got accepted into their circles, he’d learned to control his temperament and use it for proper battling. For defending the weak. Normally he enjoyed killing for fun, especially Nords and racists, but right now he wasn’t even in the mood for a bloodbath… a bad sign.

A sudden, stabbing pain shot through his bowels, causing him to hunch over and gasp desperately. For a moment, the severity of the cramp seemed to push all the air out of his lungs, and his shaking knees threatened to give in. Claude felt like a newborn deer, struggling to stay on his feet and praying to whatever Gods where listening right now for this sensation to pass. He could feel his own belly gurgling ominously underneath his armor, quickly bloating up and pushing against the tight, cold steel, which somehow made him feel even sicker. It felt like something wanted to come out of him… Claudinei feared he knew what that would be, and the heat of shame caused his cheeks to flush underneath his scales.

With his eyes pressed shut, the Argonian tried to focus on his breathing, and regain his composure. Well, as embarrassing as it would be to relieve himself in the middle of the goddamn forest, if it meant he’d feel better… Still hunched over, he somehow made his way towards a nearby bush, surrounded by tall grass. Once again, the embarrassment filled his chest with heat, and he looked around several times for potential onlookers. The calm ambience of the forest around him didn’t want to match the sweat inducing wave of illness he was experiencing… in fact, the voices of the singing birds just made him feel worse. Lonelier in his misery. And at the same time, as if they were mocking him.

After fighting his way out of his armor, Claudinei already felt a bit better… the fresh, cool air brushing over his skin was comforting, even though it quickly grew cold due to the sweat continuously forming underneath his scales.

Please, let this be over quickly…

The lizard man crouched down and lifted his head towards the sky. But… nothing happened. This was, of course, not the first time his body played dirty tricks on him like that. He would probably just have to wait. Try harder. His scales shimmered in a light grey as he tried to push… another angry groan erupted from his middle, making him wince. Why wouldn’t anything move?

What do you want from me?

Claudinei attempted to give himself a clumsy belly rub, trying to help… things move along, but what he felt underneath his claws made him freeze. Was it just his imagination, or was his belly actually moving…? No, no way… that couldn’t be. The young man held his breath, feeling his heart starting to beat rapidly in his throat as he tried to feel for more movement. He was hoping, no, begging the Gods that it was just his dizzy, foggy mind playing tricks on him – but no… There it was… right underneath his belly button, barely noticeable. Something nudged against his fingers. What in the world was that?! Did his raw meat binges catch up with him? Shit… no, no, no! Did he catch a parasite?! What was he supposed to do now?!

Before the panic even properly began to settle in his chest, another sharp cramp caused him to whine like a kicked puppy. With a gross, airy sounding gurgle, he felt something shift in his lower belly… Clearly, it was much bigger than what his bowels were used to. It seemed like this parasite, or whatever it was, had pretty much been sitting still inside him all this time, but his attempt to push it out had startled it into moving. That’s what the pain had been… it was probably causing a blockage inside him. The poor guy didn’t dare to lay a finger on his belly again… he was scared he could make that thing inside him anxious, or worse, make it want to push and burst out of his belly. It definitely already felt like whatever was inside him wanted to find a way out… Claude felt his scaly skin stretching as it moved around, seemingly wriggling through his bowels. It was so sickening, so nauseating, and painful… so painful he couldn’t put it into words. Was this gonna be how it ended for him? What an awfully embarrassing way to go… busted like an overcooked sausage because he couldn’t stop himself from enjoying his meat raw.

Instead of the pop! he feared to hear and feel coming from his belly, Claudinei was surprised when he realized that the squirming in his gut actually seemed to move this thing along… A glimpse of hope began to rise in him. Perhaps he could just get it out the ‘easy’ way after all? The young man figured he should try to push along, to help his unwanted guest find the exit… but the more he wanted to squeeze, the more he realized that this wasn’t going the way he’d expected it to. Why didn’t it make its way towards his rear? Why did the pain begin to move between his legs instead? The color faded from his face, leaving him pale as a sheet. He just remembered the fact that he was an Argonian – and that every Argonian, no matter if male or female, had a cloaca. Even though Claudinei was more than confused and panicky, especially about how and why it was in there, he didn’t really care which way it would come out – as long as it would come out!!

The human-lizard whimpered miserably as he lowered himself down on the cool grass, and finally managed to lay on his side with his legs close to his middle. Sweat was still continuously piling on his forehead, his belly groaning and gurgling in a pathetic attempt to get this thing to move… his whole body was clearly working hard to get this unwanted visitor going. Claudinei inhaled sharply, barely managing to bite back a pained scream as he felt the form of the parasite finally slip closer to the exit. It was so much bigger and firmer than what his body was accustomed to, and once again, he feared it was going to burst out of him any second. It almost felt like a rock, sitting heavily in his pelvis and pressing its broad, round shape against his sensitive genitals. The squirming had quietened down by far, now that he would need it to assist him in pushing it out. While the poor guy forced himself to push and press rhythmically, his mind was racing, trying to figure out just what it could be… It almost felt like a cocoon of some sort. There was another wriggle – now it was in a position where it was pressed right against his male genitals, which were tucked away inside his cloaca – and usually kept very safe in there.

“Oh Gods, help me…!”, Claude’s voice broke, and was finally interrupted by a much needed, quite relieving yell. The sea of trees that surrounded him swallowed up his panicked, desperate crying, and with the singing of the birds still mocking him, he continued to try and force this foreign thing to move. All of a sudden, the pain subsided almost instantly, and Claudinei couldn’t help but let out a high pitched moan as it finally shot out of him. Finally, his poor, stretched cloaca could relax, his poor organs could settle… no, not yet. The lizard only had a few seconds to gaze over his own shoulder, down at whatever he just pushed out, before the pain started all over again. A blue, oval shape, about the size of his head… Was that an egg?!

Right as the Argonian screamed in pain once again, he remembered… he remembered that he and Faendal had had sex the other day. He remembered how much he had thanked the universe for his cloaca, the ability to experience so much pleasure crash against his body like a wave… but at what cost? Now he was here, digging his claws into the soft, mossy ground underneath him, with tears streaming down his face… And yet, after the first egg was out, his body seemed to be more prepared for the ‘birth’. The next egg didn’t cause the same, painful spasms in his lower belly and back anymore; no, instead it nestled itself directly into his pelvic area. Claudinei panted, cursed to himself, and pushed... Once again, the heavy sensation pressed directly against his manhood – but this time, he could feel his length, his erection, pressing right back. Shit, was he really aroused? How? Since when? This shit was painful as hell before! But… not anymore. Surprised, the reptile man actually found himself moaning with pleasure as the egg stretched out his cloaca. The familiar, prickling heat of arousal began to fill his lower belly and genitals, more and more, making him want move with the rhythm of his own pushing. After a few seconds of gasping and squeezing, the egg plopped out, right next to the first one… and again, Claude’s body didn’t give him a break.

There was that sensation again, the egg shifting down towards his genitals; and this time, Claudinei had dropped almost all his tension. He allowed his own arousal to completely guide his body. What had been so incredibly painful before suddenly filled his body with unfiltered desire, causing him to blush at his own thoughts. The reptile man was hoping for the egg to be bigger than the others, for it to stay inside a little longer… His eyes rolled back with pleasure as the rhythmic spasming of his genitals tickled him to the core. The egg pressed down on the Argonian’s erection, as if it were pressing a button to send waves of blissful arousal through his body.

“Ahh-!! Oh S-shit-!!!”, Claudinei howled, a high pitched squeal making its way past his lips as he reached his climax. The throbbing of his genitals finally brought the egg to daylight, and he was filled with nothing but intense, but rewarding exhaustion as this hellish experience finally came to an end with a positive twist…

For what felt like several minutes, the young man would just lay there with his eyes closed and allow his body to relax. Finally, the sound of the birds didn’t seem to be making fun of him anymore… finally, it felt genuinely peaceful.

Thank you… I’m so glad that’s over…

But was it really…? Claudinei managed to force himself to look over his own shoulder again, observing the eggs that had come out of him. It hadn’t even properly hit him yet that these were… his. He’d had no intention to be a father. Not yet. Especially not now, when he was in the middle of an important mission. God, he’d lost so much time with this… oh well. After that scare, he needed a snack. If he was going to be breaking into a hideout, he might as well do it with a belly full of raw eggs – one of his favorite foods in the world.

#writing #ovi

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neganandblake · 5 years

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I think I liked you better when you didn’t have a knife in your hand, Peaches... Chapter 199 - The Ghost

When Blake finds herself sold out to the Saviours by her abusive fiancé, she realises that she’s certainly not on her own anymore and finds an unlikely friend in Negan. And Negan does NOT like men who beat their girlfriends, one tiny bit….

(Masterlist can be found on my page.)

Chapter 199 - The Ghost

[Negan is still mad about the fact that Nick is sniffing around Blake at every chance he gets, and we all know that petty Negan is never a good thing. But when Blake takes a walk down to the kitchens, something she sees there is about to bring back some memories she wished had stayed buried...

——————

The wind and the sleet had arrived soon after Negan had left the garden that afternoon.

It couldn't even be called a storm, but even so, each and every one of the Sanctuary windows seemed to rattle and shake, causing each resident to give an involuntary shiver every time they heard the wind battering against the window panes.

The last run was due to arrive back later that night, but in the meantime, Negan had put a stop to anyone else leaving with the weather as it was.

As much as people presumed he was a hard-ass, he wasn't about to risk any of his best men out there in conditions like that.

It was late evening now, and Negan was still in a foul mood since his run in with Blake and Nick earlier today.

He had relegated himself to the rec room for the afternoon, lazing across the large sofas and smoking away half a pack of cigarettes he had stashed away for an occasion such as this, daydreaming about what it would be like to ring that fucking asshole's Nick's neck.

But as pissed as Negan was, he knew he would have to see Peaches at some point and probably grovel.

Yeah he was fully aware of how much of a prick he'd been. But shit, he wouldn't have had to say any of that shit if Nick hadn't been standing there, a fucking smirk plastered all over his goddamn face.

Oh how Negan wished he could have wiped that smug smile from that mother-fucker's lips, right there, right then.

Negan could hear Blake's soft voice on the other side of the cherry wood by the time he finally reached the door to his and Blake's room up on the third floor.

Knowing he couldn't do anything about the obvious smell of cigarette smoke that clung to him, Negan turned the handle and went inside.

Blake was there of course, perched on the edge of their large bed, as was Mia, the blonde tucking her up beneath the covers snuggly.

Negan knew how much the kid hated any kind of storm, and so Blake had blatantly made the sensible choice of letting her sleep in with them tonight, rather than get woken up by Mia's crying in the early hours from next-door.

Both girls looked up as he entered and closed the door behind himself with small snap.

Blake still looked completely unimpressed, glowering at him over her slender shoulder.

"You decided to quit being an asshole yet?" she asked coolly, turning back to Mia and smoothing the bedcovers down over her middle.

Negan pursed his lips together and moved over to the couch.

"Ass-howl'," Mia repeated with a giggle.

But Blake quickly gave a tut, turning her attention to the little girl.

"No, we don't say that, baby. That's a bad word," she muttered, before glancing back to Negan.

"Bat Mommy gowt to say it," grumbled Mia, folding her chubby arms huffily over her teeny chest.

"Ain't bein' an asshole, Peaches," uttered Negan irritably, removing his jacket in much the same manner and tossing it haphazardly down onto the leather couch.

Was he really being an asshole just for not wanting to watch some other guy lusting over his damn girl?

"An' Daddy say it!" Mia huffed again, sounding annoyed at the injustice of it all.

"Could've fooled me," Blake snapped, shaking her head and scowling at him. "So, what? You got a problem with me being down in the garden's now is that it? Don't think I'm doing a good enough job down there or something?"

The blonde woman sounded hurt, her green eyes searching his face for any hint to what he had meant by his earlier outburst down in the lots outside.

A wave of guilt, at this, hit Negan hard.

Shit, he had never fucking wanted to make Blake feel this way. But this was all because of that asshole Nick.

Negan was sick to the goddamn back teeth of him sniffing around Blake any chance he got.

"Well it ain't like you haven't got enough help down there, is it, Peaches?" Negan bit, turning away from her and pulling off his boots one by one, dumping them on the floor next to the sofa before making for the bathroom.

But behind him he heard Blake get to her feet and follow him.

"What's that supposed to mean?" she asked sounding angry now.

But fuck, so was Negan. Pissed that that fucking prick had caused a goddamn rift between them. (Although he tried to dismiss the nagging feeling that it was actually Negan himself causing this fucking rift.)

"You know what it means, Darlin'," said Negan in a meaningful voice as he entered through the bathroom, flicking on the light, as he heard Blake close behind him.

He wasnt in the mood for any of this shit, wanting nothing but a shower and to sleep, maybe forgetting, for just a night anway, that this Nick guy, that Peaches seemed to be spending every fucking second of every fucking day with, ever even existed.

Pulling his shirt over his head and tossing it into the wash basket behind them door, he made to grab his towel from the rail, when suddenly Blake circled around, coming to a stop in front of him.

Pressing a hand to his bare chest she stopped him in his tracks.

"No, I don't, Negan," she said firmly, that frown still sat between her brows, but her eyes were now wide and worried looking, searching his face desperately. "Look I don't know what's up with you lately, why you've been checking in on me down in the gardens every five minutes, or why you've been acting like such a child -"

"Well maybe your new fuckin' boyfriend down there will be more fuckin' mature, Darlin'," Negan growled at her, cutting her off mid-sentence. The words spilling from his lips poisonously before he could help himself.

And for a moment Blake stopped, blinking, She closed her mouth slowly and took a step back, her hand dropping suddenly from Negan's chest.

Shit.

Shit shit shit.

Negan's mind was whirring was possibilities now, scenarios that he had no proof of, working their way around his head.

Did she look mad?

Guilty?

Had she been thinking about Nick? Fantasising about him? Wanting him more than she had ever wanted a rough old dog like Negan?

It was a long second now before Blake took a second step backwards, the frown on her forehead deepening.

"You mean…...wait..." she uttered with a frown, looking a little disbelieving now. "...are you talking about Nick?!"

Negan took a moment to reply, merely giving a seemingly un-caring sniff.

"Well the prick's been tailin' you around for the last two fuckin' weeks like some kinda love-sick puppy, Peaches. What the fuck else am I suposed to think?" Negan said, feeling his hackles raise at just the mention of the guy.

But Blake seemed to waver for a second, before a bemused sort of expression slowly began to dance its way across her features.

"Negan, YOU tail me around like a lovesick puppy," she said sounding slightly exasperated, but far more calm than she had a few brief moments ago.

But Negan wasn't taking that. This wasn't the same. This guy was new to the scene.

And besides Negan had seen it first hand. The flirting, the laughing…

"Sweetheart, it's obvious the goddamn guy has got a thing for you!" Negan uttered bitterly.

But at his words, this time, Blake was still for a long second or two, before, to Negan's surprise, her lips twitched once, then twice, and a sudden laugh escaped her lips before she could stop it.

She bit down on her lip to stop herself from giggling further.

But this only seemed to anger Negan more. Shit, did she really think all this was fucking funny?

But he barely had a second to dwell on this, as Blake lowered her eyes taking a step into the dark-haired man, her hand making for his shoulder.

"Errr, baby..." Blake murmured in a sympathetic sounding voice, giving his shoulder a gentle pat. "...I have a feeling YOU might be more Nick's type."

Negan blinked.

What?

"He's gay, Negan," Blake said with a slow nod, her eyes meeting with his, as though she wanted to make sure explicitly he understod what she was saying.

"He's-"

"Gay, yeah," Blake repeated, giving his shoulder a squeeze before dropping her hand and sauntering over to the bathroom mirror above the sink to peer at her reflection. "Definitely not interested in me."

Negan was silent for a long moment before he lifted a hand, running it through his hair as his dark eyes widened.

"Well...shit…" he managed to murmur out, feeling all of a sudden very, very fucking stupid.

"Yeah, shit," Blake said pursing her lips and staring back at him over her shoulder. "So next time you go getting jealous, you may want to get your facts straight first."

Negan could have kicked himself.

Fuck, he'd been such fucking idiot.

"Peaches, I'm fuckin' sorry, I-" he began, knowing it was better to start grovelling sooner rather than later.

But Blake merely turned back to him, smirking now.

"Nu-uh," she said in a vixen-like voice, strutting past him and bumping her hip payfully against his bony one as she went. "You can make it up to me later, asshole."

She shot him a suggestive look glancing up and down his body over her shoulder, before biting her lip and giving a small laughing shake of her head and disappearing back into the bedroom.

Negan gave a sigh. Shit, he really was fuckin' lucky to have a gal like her.

Still ruffling his dark hair, he wandered back into the bedroom, to see the blonde tucking a a whining Mia back into bed.

"Noh, I wan' milk," whined the toddler wriggling and twisting beneath the bed-clothes. "I thursty!"

Blake gave a sigh and got to her feet.

"Alright I'll get you some milk, baby," she said softly, turning to slip on her sneakers.

"I'll go, Darlin'," Negan offered.

But Blake merely smiled up at him. "It's fine, I'll be back in five," she said making for the door. "You can take care of that."

And with that, Blake cocked a thumb over her shoulder to where Mia was currently clambering out of bed, whinging as she did so. Obviously in a mood for terrorising her two parents tonight.

Negan gave a loud, tired groan, as a smirking Blake headed off out of the room, closing the door behind her with a gentle snap.

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

The Sanctuary felt like an ice box as Blake walked down the drafty corridor heading toward the kitchens.

She rubbed at her arms as she went, cursing herself for not putting on an extra layer on top of her black sweater.

The walk didn't take long, down to the first floor, where she noticed it was far more drafty due to the large doors at the far end of the docking yard being left wide open.

That would only mean one thing of course, that the Simon, Gavin and a few of the others were now back from their run, safe from the storm.

And as Blake turned the corner she saw now that they were not alone, with Simon standing there addressing a small group of seven or eight people she had never seen before.

"...now you follow the rules and you'll find that we can all be very accommodating here…" she heard Simon utter, causing Blake to bristle slightly at the sound of his voice. Even know although she had forgiven as much as she could, it is hard to forget what the mustachioed man had tried to do all those weeks ago.

But shaking these thoughts from her head, she walked up to where to small group stood, nodding to Gavin, who was stood at the back of the pack, as she passed by.

Part of her felt proud, as this was obviously another group that the Saviours had picked up on the road and had taken in, under the promise that they follow the rules and do things Negan's way.

The Sanctuary was certainly big enough for more people and Blake now hoped that by next year, if her plans to expand the gardens went well, then there would be more than enough food to go around threefold.

But as always, the people in the small group, as she passed them, all looked frightened and mistable, huddled together, seeming nervous of coming here to the intimidating factory building for the first time.

But as Blake walked by, she didn't even notice one of the men from the small crowd step forward, his eyes widening suddenly as he looked at her.

"Blake?"

Blake stopped suddenly in her tracks...her blood running cold.

That voice.

No.

But it couldn't be. It just couldn't…

Blake's heart began to thud in her chest, her stomach twisting into knots and her breathing becoming shallow, as Simon faltered in his speech, the entire room falling eerily silent.

It couldn't be him.

He was a ghost.

A memory.

This wasn't possible.

Swallowing hard, it felt like an eternity before, on shaking legs, Blake managed to turn herself around, her wide eyes full of horror as her gaze settled upon a person she had never thought she'd see again. Not the ghost, but another now...oh so familiar.

Tall…

...blonde…

...with piercing blue eyes that reminded so much of someone else's…

Eyes she had stared at while cold fingers had been clenched around her throat, choking the life from her.

Blake stopped, her chest rising and falling hard now, as the man stepped forwards out of the untidy group, taking one step, then another…

And before Blake could even move, he had launched himself at her, tugging her to him in a tight hug.

"Blakey, I-I never thought I'd see you again," he breathed into her ear, that voice- so familiar, sending a cold shiver through her entire body.

The man pulled back from her and stared into her eyes, shaking his head in a look of pure, happy disbelief that she was here.

"W-Where's David? He here with you?" said the man Blake had known for a very long time.

A man she had spent night's out with. A man who she had had over to her apartment on game days. A man who she had spent time with at family occasions.

A man who looked eerily familiar to the man that had abused her, for so very long.

Brandon.

David's brother.

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

#negan #negan twd #Jeffrey Dean Morgan #The Walking Dead #twd #the walking dead fic #negan fic #jdm #negan oc #negan and blake #negan otp #negan fanfiction

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nadjaofstatenisland · 5 years

Link

“You’re late.”

Alice puts on her best stern face, but Gladys pays her no mind. Instead the brunette kicks her bag under the bar and pulls on the collar of her blue work shirt to take a sniff. Alice sucks her teeth and starts pouring another beer for the kid standing in front of her.

“Look alive, Cohen. I said you’re late.”

Gladys steps into her personal space and some beer sloshes onto Alice’s hand. Gladys tugs her shirt towards her.

“Take a whiff. Do I smell?”

Alice slams the wet glass on the bar and snatches the crumbled up bills from the kid’s hand. He’s too young to drink - hell, she’s too young to drink too - but it’s a party going on and it’s the Southside of town and normal rules don’t apply in places like the Whyte Wyrm.

The kid slaunders off looking put out and even younger than he is in his way-too-big letterman. Alice crosses her arms, discreetly wiping her hands on the inside of her open flannel shirt, as Gladys inches ever so close. Her breasts press against Alice’s arm and she can see the smirk on Gladys’ face without looking.

“Al,” Gladys nudges her with a sneakered foot, “do I smell? I think I got some motor oil on my shirt. Well do I? Al? Alice Smith?” She nudges her shoulder. “Can you hear me? I’m right -”

“Yes, you reek. You smell like a goddamn garage.” Alice shrugs her off and takes a step away, taking in the sight of the bar. There were too many blue and yellow jackets for her to be at ease. “Can’t you bother to shower before you get here?”

“We’re fixing up a Mustang at the garage. I lost track of time.”

“It got real busy here for a while, you know.” Alice tries to sneak a look at the four loud boys whooping at the pool table, but Gladys’ gaze is burning a hole in her. “And I was all alone, left to deal with these drunk morons.”

Hog Eye isn’t even ten feet away doing a crossword puzzle at a table. They both know he’d never let the bar get backed up when there were Northside kids here with good money burning holes in their pockets, but Gladys keeps her mouth shut at Alice’s lie. She unbuttons the top of her work shirt, exposing the tank top underneath.

“Please, Gladys.” Alice mockingly covers her eyes, as if Gladys has anything she hasn’t seen before. “I asked you here to tend bar, not entertain.”

The words would cut if she was on the receiving end, but Gladys is all smiles. “This place couldn’t afford to get me up on that stage.” Her expression changes as she pulls her shirt over her head. She looks either way around the bar, grin tilting. “Are we in school or something?”

Alice leans back, finally getting her glance in at the boys hogging the pool table. Fred’s running his hands through his hair in exaggerated frustration, FP has a sour look on his face, and -

A hand in front of her eyes brings her back to the bar. “What’s going on? Why is the entire football team here? I’ve told FP a million times the less I see of those stupid jackets, the happier I am.“

“You know we won that big game against Seaside High last night?” Gladys’ expression doesn’t change. “Well, we did. And since it was an away game, the team got home late so,” she waves her hand around the bar, “they decided to celebrate tonight.”

“Right.” Gladys rubs her bare arms. “And this is their idea of celebrating?”

“I guess they want to live life on the edge.” She rolls her eyes. “A bunch of dumb jocks slumming around a scummy bar.”

“Hey, you frequent this scummy bar all the time.”

“Not by choice.”

“Hmm. Where is FP?” She scans the place. “He can’t be too happy about his football buddies hanging around his stomping grounds.”

“Oh, don’t worry.” She drops her voice. “He’s in disguise.”

Alice head snaps back to the pool table to gesture at them. Of the four boys, only FP is sporting his RHS colors, yet he still looks more in place than the other three. Gladys cranes her neck to look at them and a mischievous grin comes upon her.

“My, my. What have we here?”

Alice bites her lip as she stares down the foursome. Hiram is in the middle of a celebratory dance and Fred and FP look sulky. The other -

“How did FP drag Fred here?”

The fourth boy lines up his shot on the pool table and Alice feels her breathe hitch. “Probably bribed him.”

Gladys laughs. “Oh I bet he did.” She does a rude gesture with her hand and mouth that earns a smile from Alice. “Are they hustling Northside boys?”

“Fred’s a Northside boy.”

“Northside boys with money, I mean. No one would be dumb enough to hustle Fred’s broke ass.”

The boy makes his shot and Hiram claps him hard on the back as he sinks a ball. “Sure looks like hustling to me. But Fred’s selling it too hard. Every time he misses a shot he starts throwing a fit. Good thing Hiram’s too stupid or drunk to notice.”

“Hiram’s not stupid.” Gladys goes about wiping down the wet rings on the bar with a rag. “He’s just cocky, arrogant.”

“That’s worse than being stupid.” Alice catches a lump in her throat. “He’s not even on the football team. God knows why he’s here.”

“Neither’s Fred.” Gladys pauses mid-wipe and looks over her shoulder. “Lodge is friends with Coop, he’s probably with him.” She shakes her head and returns to wiping down the counter. “Poor idiots. They’re going to walk out of here with no shoes.”

Alice clicks her teeth. “Yeah, well. It’s what they get. They’re not from this side of town.”

“Neither is Fred.” Gladys parrots her words for a moment ago.

“Fred is - Fred is Southside by association. Plus he and FP are trying to save up enough to buy a van. It’s as good a cause as any to scam some rich boys, right?”

“Right.” Gladys nods. “Hey, if they make enough tonight I bet I can weasle some two am milkshakes out of them.”

“I’d kill for a rootbeer float right now.” Alice peeks at the boys again. Hal Cooper’s looking in her direction and she snaps her head back so quick her hair brushes Gladys’ bare shoulder. “I’m just craving something sweet is all.”

Gladys raises an eyebrow and looks back towards the pool table. “Something sweet alright. Is that why your panties are in a twist?” She breaks out a cheeky grin. “Fred and FP ripping off the wrong rich boy tonight?”

“I don’t give a shit if Hiram Lodge is stupid enough to fall for the oldest trick in the book,” she scoffs. The heat rises in her face and her voice comes out several octaves higher than she cares for. “The pool scam? How dumb can you be?” She grabs a bottle of tequila from the wall and pours herself a shot. “Hasn’t he ever seen a movie or anything?”

Alice downs her shot and Gladys takes the glass before she can slam it on the bar. “Panties twisted,” she whispers an inch from her face. Alice swats her away and goes to tend to the group walking up.

“You’re so testy tonight, Al. I’m only messing with you.” Gladys hands off the beers Alice fills from the tap. “I know you have better taste than him.”

“Damn right I do.” She passes off the last beer and makes no move to give change for the ten they pass her. She raises an eyebrow and the group shuffles off looking embarrassed. “My type is the exact opposite of whatever Hiram Lodge is.”

“I get it.” Gladys nods. “You don’t go for short, dark, and handsome. Nope. You’d prefer tall, blonde, and boring.”

“Hal is not boring,” Alice hisses. She half glances over her shoulder. “Don’t you call him that.”

“Who said anything about Hal?” Gladys smirks at her confession. “But you did actually call him that last week.”

“I - no. Of course I didn’t.”

“Hiram said something dumb to you and you said,” she clears her throat and tries to mimic Alice’s high voice, “‘You think you’re so tough just because you have tall, dark, and stupid and tall, blonde, and boring with you.’ Ring a bell?”

She remembers the exact moment, coming out of the cafeteria and walking smack dab into Hiram with Marty Mantle and Hal Cooper on either side of him. Hiram falling flat on his ass and telling her to watch her attitude as Hal lifted him back up.

Alice shrugs. “I don’t remember that.”

“Of course not.” Gladys’ eyes search the smokey ceiling. “I just didn’t peg him as your type is all. Alice Smith drooling over some broad shouldered, all American boy who’d look better suited in a Leave it to Beaver rerun than a bar on the Southside. I’ve really seen it all now.”

“I’m not - he is not my type!” she hisses. "I don’t have a type! There is no drooling here! He’s just - just nice is all.”

“Nice and boring.” Alice glares at her. “Sorry. I just don’t get it.”

“Well no one is asking you to.” Alice plays with the loose button of her flannel. “He’s just kind of - of cute. And I like his articles in the school paper. And maybe I like,” she sighs, “caught him drawing in English class one day and we got to talking and everything, but that doesn’t mean anything. I don’t like him. He’s not my type. I don’t have a -”

“Well, your type or not, he won’t stop staring at us.” Gladys peeks over Alice’s shoulder and gives a little wave. Alice pulls her hand down and whips her head around. Hal is looking at them, but Gladys’ wave is directed at FP. Hiram’s bent over the table lining up a shot as FP makes a crude thrusting gesture behind him and Fred fake coughs to cover up his laughter.

Gladys shakes her head. “FP’s so stupid,” she says, but there’s a smile on her face and adoration in her eyes. Alice doesn’t know whether it’s sweet or sickening. “He’s like the teenage version of a puppy.”

“Uh huh.” Alice can feel Hal watching her even though she isn’t looking. “Trying to hump everything around him. Sure sounds like a dog to me.”

“Hey, barkeep!” Alice hears FP scream, even over the music blasting. “Mind bringing me and my boys over here some shots?”

Gladys cups her hands around her mouth. “Sorry, jock. Table service is for fellows from this side of town only. Guess you’ll have to come up here yourself.”

FP licks his lips. “There might be a nice tip in it for you.”

“Yeah? With what money?” She has the attention of half the bar. “You look like you’re about to lose the shirt off your back!”

He winks their way and turns back to the game. The patrons - still far too many Riverdale High students for her taste - slowly turn back to their own business. She catches a glimpse of Marty Mantle by the dart board looking stupid as ever in his varsity jacket, playing against some Serpents who look ready to tear him apart if he says one wrong word.

“I did my part. Maybe they’ll believe he really sucks now.” She turns back to Alice. “What’s with the pout?”

“I’m not pouting.” She wraps her arms around herself even though she’s as warm as anything. “I just wanna head home already.”

Gladys does an exaggerated pout herself. “What about your root beer float?”

“I’ll live.”

“Ah, I know what this is about.” Gladys takes her by the shoulders and spins her around so she’s facing the pool table. “Did my little outburst ruin your chances with Wally Cleaver?”

She shrugs her shoulders up but Gladys doesn’t let go. “I am not Hal Cooper’s type, okay?

“Says who?”

“Says me.”

“Hey.” Gladys’ voice is softer than normal. She wraps her arms around Alice from behind and rests her chin on her shoulder. She nudges her head until she looks up and she sees their ridiculous reflection in the mirror over the bar. “You see that girl I’m looking at?”

“Uh huh.” Alice tries to go back to wiping glasses, but Gladys tightens her grip.

“That girl right there,” she swings them back and forth a bit, “is one of the hottest girls in town, you hear me? I’d probably sell my soul to get curls like hers.”

Alice snorts. “As if you have a soul.”

Gladys squeezes her harder. “Anyone in this bar would nail her.” She smiles as the corners of Alice’s lips finally twitch. “Present company included.”

Alice finally let out a full smile. “Don’t profess your love to me just yet.“

"I didn’t say love. Just said I’d nail you.”

“Guys like him like prissy cheerleaders. Not me.”

“Oh, I think guys like that love girls from this side of town.” She turns her attention back to the pool table. “Look at him. Boy is a freak waiting to come out. And a virgin to boot.”

“He is not a virgin!” Alice rolls her eyes. “People like him.”

“Alice, please.” She takes her chin and turns Alice’s face towards the boys. “Look. He’s the type who’s mother has probably instilled abstinence and chastity into his head from birth. He’s just waiting for right girl to free him from that. Teach him the ways of the world. Show him a good time.” She turns Alice’s face towards her own, her lips pouted out like a fish. “You can be that girl, Al.”

Alice lets a breath out as Gladys frees her face. “A guy like that would never date a Southside girl.”

“Who said anything about dating?” Gladys scoffs. “You don’t need some suburban prince to save you, Alice. You know that, right? You don’t need to date him. But what you do need is to get laid, so get your ass over there and talk to him.”

She bites the inside of her cheek and fixes her eyes on her scuffed boots. “I don’t want to.”

“You’re such a pain in the ass.” Alice doesn’t look back up until she feels Gladys plucking at her flannel. “You’re all flushed. Let me borrow this. I’m getting cold.”

“No.” She wraps her arms around herself. “All I have on is a -”

“A t-shirt and I just have a tank top.” Gladys practically takes it off of Alice. “Just give it here.”

A thin line of skin shows between the bottom of her shirt and her jeans, but she’s worn a lot less in this place. Gladys slides the flannel on and rolls the sleeves up. She regards Alice, looking her up and down quickly.

“You look perfect.” She finally meets her eyes. “Hot, but casual. Knock ‘em dead.”

“Knock who -”

“Hey, Cooper.” Gladys glances over her shoulder and Alice freezes, unsure if she’s joking or not. “Fancy seeing you here.”

“Hey, Gladys.” Goosebumps run up her spine as she turns. He smiles at her and, even in the dim bar light, it’s blinding. “Hey, Alice.”

“Hey.” Her words come out slowly and she forces a smile. “Cooper.”

“Cooper,” he repeats. “You’ve never called me that.”

Her mouth goes dry, but Gladys saves her with a light smack on her shoulder. “Of course Cooper must be your father? You prefer Coop.” She looks over at the pool table. “At least that’s what all your football buddies call you.”

His eyes stay locked with Alice even though his words are directed at the other girl. “Coop is fine. Cooper’s fine. Alice just normally calls me Ha-”

“Did you want something?” Alice cuts him off and his mouth drops at her harsh tone. There’s still a smile there, still more teeth than she can believe, but there’s a slight sense of hurt behind his eyes.

“Drinks, yeah.” He breaks their gaze to pull his wallet out. “FP has requested shots.”

“Whiskey good?” Gladys asks. She pinches Alice’s forearm before finally taking her hand off her and grabs a bottle off the bar by the neck. “Or do you and Mr. Lodge over there have more refined tastes?”

“Whiskey’s great, thanks.”

Alice starts for the shot glasses, but Gladys bumps her hips to stop her, shoving her closer in Hal’s direction. She grabs a rag to keep busy and wipes the clean-as-it’ll-ever-be bar down next to him.

“Coop, is that your Dodge Dart I saw outside? The ‘74?” Gladys asks. She stomps on Alice’s foot but her Doc Martens protect her from Gladys’ sneakers. “It’s a beauty.”

“Thanks.” Hal takes his eyes off of Alice and she finally lets out the breath she’s been holding. “I like her alright.”

“Do you know,” Gladys passes Alice the bottle and sets six shot glasses down, nudging her to pour, “the car was originally called the Dodge Demon until some Christian organizations protested it and they changed it to the Dart for the next model?”

“No kidding.” Hal fixes himself back on Alice as she quickly pours. “My mom would be one of those protesters.“

Gladys gives Hal a lopsided grin. “Your mom would, huh?” She pokes Alice in the ribs. “You don’t say.” She grabs a shot and nudges one to Alice. “Take one with us, Coop. Alice will top you off.”

“No.” Alice nudges hers towards Hal. “I just had tequila. Take mine.”

He starts to shake his head. “I couldn’t -”

“You can and you will.” Gladys forces another shot glass into Alice’s hand. “Tequila for the lady.” She clinks her glass against either of theirs. “To Riverdale High winning a football game.” She regards Hal over the rim of her glass. “That’s why you boys are here, right?”

“Yeah, sure. That’s it.” Hal’s eyes are fixed on Alice again and he clinks his glass against just hers this time. “To the very attentive bartenders at the Whyte Wyrm.”

Alice takes her shot with him and slams the glass down. “Impressed with this hole in the wall?”

“Aspects of it, yeah.” He breaks his smile with her to take his shot. “That is - that is not smooth.” He coughs. “Oh, let me get that.” He takes his wallet out but she shakes her head at the bill he offers her.

“Don’t worry about it, Coop. This round is on me.”

He waves it towards her. “Oh, Alice. I couldn’t let you -”

Her instinct is to snap at his niceness, at him turning down her generosity, but she forces her voice to come out as nice as she can get it. “Hal, I’m serious. My treat.”

“I insist.” He holds out the money. “I couldn’t -

Gladys snatches the ten from Hal’s hand. “Let’s just call it a tip then, yeah?” She folds it up into quarters and slips it in Alice’s back pocket, giving her a sharp slap on the ass before walking to the other side of the bar. Hal raises his eyebrow.

“She is certainly,” Hal thinks of the right word, “friendly?”

Alice bites her lip. “Handsy is the word I normally use.” She lets her shoulders loosen. “And that’s just her after one drink. You have to see her after a few.”

“Right.” He gulps subtly and she knows she’s not supposed to notice. “So do you work here every weekend or -”

“Hal!” Hiram Lodge’s voice rings out across the bar. “You here to pick up girls or you here to play pool, Hal? Where are those shots? Hal!”

Gladys groans. “Cram it, Lodge! Can’t you see he’s busy!” She nudges Alice before ducking under the bar and stomping over to the pool table.

Hal rolls his empty glass on the bar. “I guess I should get back over there.” He picks up two shots with either hand. “I’ll come back when they want another round of beers -”

“They’re scamming you guys.” The words leave her mouth before she can help it and she leans across the bar towards him. “Fred and FP. They’re pretending they’re bad at pool and when your guard is down they’re -” Hal starts laughing. “I’m being serious.”

“Alice, Alice.” He shakes his hands and a few drops of whiskey fall on his sleeve. “I’m not stupid. And no offence, but Fred and FP aren’t exactly subtle either.”

She furrows her brow. “So why are you still playing?”

He shrugs. “We’re having fun. And if I’m being honest,” he downs one of the shots he’s still holding, “I only came out tonight because FP told me you work here on the weekend.”

Her heart speeds up. “Yeah?” He nods and she grabs the whiskey bottle to refill his glass. “That’s - that’s cool. I’m glad you came. Even if my stupid friends are bleeding you dry.”

“Nah.” His smile verges on goofy as the drinks settle into him. “It’s Hiram’s money we’re betting anyway. He has plenty to lose.”

Her nose scrunches up as she laughs. The face her dad says makes her look mousey, but Hal is still all smiles at her.

“I think Gladys has taken my place.” He looks over his shoulder at the pool table. “I’d ask if you want to go hang out, but I drove Hiram.”

“You’re too drunk to drive anyone anywhere right now.”

“I am not drunk.” He looks back to her cross eyed. “I’m fine, really. But Hiram -”

“They’ll take good care of Hiram. Get him home safe.” Alice leaves out the part about them not having a car. “I promise.”

“You sure -?”

“Nice shot, Cohen!” Hiram screams. They turn together just in time to see Gladys ignore Hiram’s attempt to high five her.

“He’s having a blast.” She taps one of his shot glasses. “Lets drop those off and go.”

“You can just leave?” He glances both ways down the bar. “Aren’t you working?”

She shrugs. “It’s fine.”

He smiles at her again, half dreamy and half drunk. “Cool.”

Her leather jacket is tucked under the bar and she pauses before sliding it on. She may have been warm enough in the October air with a flannel, but Gladys is already working up a sweat running around the pool table in it. She slides the leather on and watches Hal’s eyes take her in.

“Let’s go?” He nods obediently and she takes two of the shots from him to carry over.

FP has his hand tucked into the back of Gladys’ jeans as they approach. Alice hands one to FP and leaves another on the table for Fred.

“We’re going to take off,” Alice mutters under her breath to Gladys. FP’s ears perk up and she gives him a death glare before his mouth even opens. “You guys can take care of Lodge, right?”

“Hiram and I are pool buddies now,” Gladys says loudly. “Of course we’ll take good care of him.”

“You’re leaving?” Hiram gives Hal a hard shove in the shoulder, almost knocking the glasses out of his hand. He takes one from him. “Suit yourself, Hal. Gladys is a better partner anyway.” He clinks their glasses together, spilling whiskey to the floor. “One for the road.”

Hal reluctantly takes the shot and claps Hiram on the back. “I’ll see you.”

“Careful, Hal.” Fred finally takes his shot and knocks a ball off the table, narrowly missing his drink. Alice resists the urge to kick him. “Alice bites.”

Pink patches play up Hal’s cheeks. “I’ll take my chances.” He picks up his jacket from a chair - a light blue windbreaker instead of a loud letterman - and follows Alice. When she opens the door, he’s a few feet behind her catching up and Gladys is waving enthusiastically at them.

“My car is right there.” He points as they cross the slew of motorcycles in the parking lot. “The green one.”

He stumbles the last few feet to the car and breaks his fall hard against the side. She can almost feel Gladys cringing at the thump from back inside. He turns around and leans against the door, seemingly grateful for the steady object.

“Remember when I said I wasn’t drunk?” He fumbles through his pockets as she catches up to him. She takes one, two, three steps closer than necessary so there are only a few inches between them. He’s surprised at her closeness when he finally looks up. “I think I lied. I might be a little drunk.”

“No shit?” She throws her head back and laughs. “I think you passed little a while ago.”

“Maybe.” He pulls his keys out of his pocket, a plastic Statue of Liberty keychain dangling from the end. He raises them toward his head. “How about I let you drive if -”

She snatches the keys before he can finish his thought. “If what?”

His hand is still held out and he slowly lowers it as a smile plays on his lips. “If nothing. You drive.”

“You play football with those reflexes?”

“Not well,” he laughs.

“Don’t say that.” Alice shakes her head. “You’re good though.”

“I don’t even like playing,” he admits. “I don’t even really like football. I’d quit if it wouldn’t drive my parents nuts.” He leans through the window of the front seat and she wants to kick him for leaving his windows open on this side of town. Some soft rock comes from the stereo and he hits his head on the frame as he comes out. “I’m okay.”

“I didn’t ask,” she teases. He gives her a smile so genuine and bright, she wants to melt into him in the poorly lit parking lot. Instead, she shifts her weight between her boots and clutches the keys to her chest.

“You don’t mind driving?“ he asks.

"You have a nice car and I never turn down a chance to make Gladys jealous.” She feeds him a wicked grin and forces the words out of her mouth before she chickens out. “So where does Hal Cooper take a girl when he wants to have a good time?”

He bites his lip. “Pops.”

“Pops?” Her voice drops. Her face drops. Her mood drops. “That’s not very,” she searches for the word, “private.”

“Who cares about privacy?” She catches her breath as he tucks a stray piece of hair behind her ear. He pulls back, seemingly embarrassed by his own move, and shoves both his hands in his pockets. “I’d kill for a cheeseburger.”

“A cheeseburger.” She slouches and make a mental note to kick herself when she hears the disappointment in her own voice. Desperate. Stupid. She thinks back to Gladys words and smiles. “You want a burger when you have a pretty girl right in front of you?”

“No, I want a cheeseburger.” There are teeth marks in his lower lip when he opens his mouth for a smile. Bright and wide, no doubt a result of the mouth of metal he endured until freshman year. “And you know, I want you to still be in front of me at Pops. I can have a cheeseburger with the company of a pretty girl.”

“Uh huh.” She shifts her weight between her feet. “And what do I get for being your chauffeur for the night?”

He regards her carefully, front teeth digging into his lip again. “A root beer float.”

Alice’s mouth falls open. “How did you -”

“Gladys told me.” He closes his eyes and shakes his head softly. “You prefer root beer floats over milkshakes. She said it would be good to know.” He peeks his eyes open. “For future reference.”

“Right.” She stiffens up. “Well don’t get too comfy yet, Coop. No one ever said this was going anywhere.”

“I like you, Alice.” He smiles softly again. “You know why?”

Her heart beats so fast in her chest, she takes a step away from him. “Because you’re drunk and not thinking straight?”

“No.” He slumps against the car, hands still in his pockets. “I’m good at reading people. At least I think I am. But with you, I don’t know.” He gives her a look that reminds her of Gladys looking at FP inside. Stupid, sappy adoration. “I never know what you’re about to say or what you’re thinking. You always take me by surprise.”

A lump rises to her throat that she can’t swallow. “You like that?”

“Love it. You’re unpredictable. Exciting.” He feeds her that sappy grin again and she doesn’t realize she’s closing in on him until her boots nudge his shoes. “I like you.”

She swallows the lump, swallows her pride. “I like you too, Hal.”

His hands are still in his pockets but she tilts her head up towards him. His mouth opens but instead of leaning down to her, his eyes look to the side and he smiles.

“Do you hear that?” His face lights up. “Your band just came on.”

She hears a familiar guitar rift coming from the car but the song escapes her. “My band?”

Hal hums along for a few seconds. “The Smiths.” He says it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. She raises her eyebrow. “They’re The Smiths, you’re a Smith -”

With a firm yank on his windbreaker, she pulls his face to her level and plants a kiss on him. It’s not until she lightly bites his lip that he opens his mouth and responds, kissing her back. His arms fumble as he takes his hands out of his pockets and wraps them around her waist. A few moments pass before they break away. Stars are in his eyes and color in his lips, apparent even in the dim parking lot. His hands stay firm on her waist.

“What was that for?”

Alice shrugs, letting go of his jacket and snaking her arms around his neck. “I had to stop you from talking before you said something else stupid.”

“It’s very likely I’m about to say something else stupid.”

They’re both leaning against the car as she kisses him again. She pushes from her mind how close they are to her home and how far from his. How different they are. How they come from different worlds.

All she wants is for this moment to last.

#parentdale #riverparents #riverparent fanfiction #parentdale fanfiction #alice cooper #hal cooper #gladys jones #fp jones #fred andrews #hiram lodge #halice #sorry not sorry #riverdale #riverdale fanfiction

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seth-figment · 5 years

Text

By any other name

Summary: Bobby finds a lone hellhound puppy. Not able to kill it he cares for it instead. He tries to contact Crowley for information but he won't show up. Until he suddenly does.

Pairing: Crowley/Bobby Singer Status: Completed Rating: T Tags: fluff Words: 8,945 Chapters: 6/6

Chapter 1

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'Tis but thy name that is my enemy

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Holding the phone pressed to his ear with his shoulder Bobby sighs setting down the gun he was cleaning. "Could be wolves."

"It's not wolves, Booby."

"Okay, okay, I believe you. But what I don't understand is why I have to go and check it out and not you?" He grumbles taking the phone back in his hand.

"I'm following a group of vampires heading up north. If I took a detour I would lose them. Bobby, seriously it's not wolves killing all those sheep."

Sighing Bobby relinquishes. "A'right I'll check it out."

"Thanks."

Pinching the bridge of his nose he waves of the thanks. "Yeah, yeah. Just don't get yourself killed fooling around with those vampires."

"I'm not a newbie."

"Sure. Bye, Matthew."

"Bye, Bobby." Hanging up the phone he sights heavily.

Looking down at the counter he picks up the note he scribbled down the address on. "Well, I'll better check it out."

-..-..-..

Crouching by the carcass of a sheep he inspects the claw and bite marks. "Hmm, well something sure seems hungry."

Taking a closer look at the marks he notes that they bare a striking assemblance to hellhound claw and bite marks but are far to small. They're even to small to be from wolves. Might be coyotes.

Cutting up the the remains he packs them up.

Heading over to a nearby barn he looks around inside noting that it seems as if no one's been there for some time.

Looking around inside he find a pile of straw with some smudged paw prints in the dirt around it. Better make sure it's just some coyotes and not anything else.

With a sigh he walks back to his truck and drives it up to the barn.

Getting out of the truck he gets a cage from the back. "Lets start with something simple."

Setting up rudimentary trap, in this case just a cage using a shank from the sheep carcass as bait. “There.” Hopefully there will only be a rogue coyote in here tomorrow and nothing else.

-..-..-..

Coming back the next day Bobby walks into the barn only to find the door of the cage closed and something growling inside it. Something invisible. "Balls.” Please don't be a hellhound.

Going closer to the cage the growling, that was frankly quite pitiful, turns into whining and whimpering. "What kind of hellhound whimpers?"

Grabbing some dirt from the ground he walks up to the cage. Frowning he looks down at the seemingly empty space. "And what kind of hellhound can be held by a normal cage." Dropping the dirt over the cage it lands and outlines the silhouette of what looks like a small dog or a, "Puppy. A hellhound puppy."

Turning he rubs at his face. "Shit."

Not sure what to do he starts walking away to check if he has anything useful in his truck but after a couple of steps the whining from the cages becomes louder. Stopping Bobby looks back at the cage which actually causes the whining to quiet down but not disappear entirely.

Frowning Bobby notes that the sheep shank he left has been decimated and only some bone fragments remain.

Sighing he heads over to his truck the desperate whimpering now turned into howls following him out.

Tacking out the cooler with the rest of the sheep from the back of his truck Bobby takes a moment to think about what he's about to do. I've gone soft with old age.

Shaking his head he goes back to the barn.

The moment he steps into the barn the howling stops and a consistent whining starts up.

Kneeling down on one knee by the cage he places the cooler next to himself. Watching the last bits of dirt still seemingly float in mid air Bobby unsheathes his knife with a sigh and opens the cooler.

As fast as the lid of the cooler opens the whining from the pup turns into what can only be described as yapping. Happy yapping.

Raising a brow he looks over at the cage. "Yapping hellhounds." Shaking his head he picks up one of the last legs from the sheep and holds it in front of the cage. "I'll take it that you want this." Yapping turning louder he can hear something swooshing in the air. So hellhounds wag their tails. Wouldn't that be something to add to the bestiary.

Cutting off a small piece of the meat he uses the knife to poke it in through the bars.

Meat immediately getting snatched up it disappears before Bobby can even blink. “You're really hungry, ain't you?”

Continuing to feed the puppy through the bars Bobby tries to figure out what to do. “Should kill you. I also need to figure out how you got here.”

Shoving in the last piece of meat he stands up knees aching. “I'm to old for this.”

Whining starting up again as he moves Bobby can't help but look down at the cage feeling his heart ache at the noise. It had to be a puppy.

Sighing he grabs the cooler walking back to his truck, the howling of an abandoned puppy slicing though the air.

Returning to the barn he now has some rope and salt with him.

Walking around the cage he makes a circle of salt before he kneels down by its door. The swooshing noise of a tail having returned with a vengeance together with the shuffling sound of paws.

Taking a deep breath Bobby shakes his head. “This is how I die. Goddamned hypocrite is what I am. ”

Extending his arm he holds the back of his hand up against the cage ready to quickly pull it back if needed.

Flinching slightly at the first feel of something cold and wet, Probably its nose, he forces his hand to keep still only to feel a tongue lick at it.

“Okay, so far so good.” Taking a deep breath he lets one of his fingers poke into the cage. “Don't bite, okay?” But instead of teeth there is just more drool.

Chuckling slightly in relief Bobby pokes some more fingers in only to be greeted by vigorous licking. “You're really just a puppy, aren't you?”

Making up his mind he removes his hand reaching off to the side to pick up some more dirt.

“Let's see you again.” Dropping the dirt over the cage the slight silhouette of the hellhound puppy becomes visible again.

“You just stay still now.” Reaching for the lock Bobby keeps an eye on the floating dirt. “No bolting away, okay?”

Holding the door closed he picks up the rope. Having already tied a slipknot on it he simply starts to open the door slowly while calmly talking. “You ain't gonna attack me. No, you don't want that. All you wanted was some food.” Dirt staying still in the air he carefully slips the rope over the puppies head. “You just wanted some breakfast didn't you?” Tightening the knot around the puppies neck he lets his hands retreat holding on hard to the rope. “There.”

Standing up he lightly tugs at the makeshift leash. “Let's see if this will work.”

At the tug the floating dirt trots out of the cage only to stop before going flying everywhere when the puppy shakes itself.

“Sorry about the dirt.”

Backing slowly Bobby tugs at the rope making the seemingly levitating noose follow him.

Kicking the salt line he leads the puppy out talking to it all the way. “So what should I do with you? Should probably ask Crowley. He might know why there's a hellpuppy running around. Hopefully I got something for you to eat at home.”

Backing up next to the passenger side of his truck he opens the door. Standing next to the opened door he looks from the floating loop to the passenger seat. “Okay, lets see how this will work.”

Contemplating how to get the hellpup up to the seat he doesn't need to think long because the loop walks forward jumping up on the seat all by its own volition. “That was easy.”

Before he closes the door he ties his end of the rope securely to the headrest.

Walking over to the driver side Bobby slides in behind the steering wheel. While turning the key he glances over at the rope. The puppy seems to have settled down to take a nap not really reacting to the motor noises.

“This is so gonna come back to bite me in the ass.” He grumbles before driving off.

-..-..-..

Rolling up the driveway Bobby goes through his plan once more but out loud this time to try and wake his passenger.

“So we'll get inside where I will temporary put you in a circle of salt, just long enough to secure the house so that you can't get out. Okay?” Looking over at the invisible little dog he can see the rope stir somewhat.

“You awake there?” Reaching over he tugs lightly on the rope. Hearing a weak sleepy sounding whine he lets go of the rope.

Getting out of the car he walks over to the passenger side. Opening the door he unties the rope from the headrest and tugs at it again only for the loop to stay put on the seat.

“Come on.” He says insistently only to get what sounds as a sleepy yawn in response.

Reaching over he pets on what he assumes is the pups head only to recoil at the feel of its skin. Feels like gnarly scaring mixed with fur. Shaking off the unpleasant feeling from first touching the pup he reaches out once more petting across its back. “You need to get up, sweetheart.”

Feeling the body under his hand move slightly he can see the loop rise before settling down again. Sighing he removes his hand.

Taking off his hat Bobby rub across his head. “Well, if you ain't getting up by your own I'll have to move you by myself.”

Putting his cap back on he bends down. “No biting.” Getting his arms under the small body he lifts the puppy up only to grunt under the weight. “What are you made of? Lead. You're barely the size of a beagle.”

Hitching the puppy up in his arms he bumps the door shut with his hip.

Carrying the the pup with him he can feel its breath at his neck as it nuzzles its nose into it.

Feeling claws dig into his arm Bobby grumbles to himself shifting his grip on the pup while trying to open the front door. “Bringing a hellhound home. How can I ever yell at the boys for doing something stupid ever again.”

Getting the door open he kicks at the salt line he keeps there before walking in heading over to the kitchen.

Setting down the sleepy bundle on the kitchen floor he reaches over to the counter picking up one of the many cartoons of salt he keeps there.

Walking around the rope loop and by extension the hellpup he makes a circle of salt around it.

Crouching down Bobby reaches into the circle petting the puppy. “So you'll just stay here while I get some stuff from my truck and double check all the salt lines so you won't get out, okay?”

Getting a confused whine in response Bobby hesitates for just a second before standing up walking away.

The moment he sets foot out of the kitchen the pup starts howling and whining for him to come back.

Speeding up he hurries out to his truck to get the cooler and some other things. Quickly going back to the house he checks all the salt lines as quickly as possible all while having the desperate howling of a puppy following him.

Walking into the kitchen to check the last salt lines Bobby can see the rope loop bounce up and down and the howling turns into whimpering yapping.

“Calm down. I'm done in just a second.”

Checking the last line everything seems to be secure.

Turning back to the bouncing yapping rope he sighs rubbing at his face. “Okay, I’ll let you out but no killing.”

Stepping up to the circle he notes that there's now some shallow claw marks on the linoleum by the inner edge of the salt line. “Also try and not claw or destroy anything.”

As fast as Bobby disrupts the salt the rope bounces up to him and he feels paws land on his thighs and claws dig in.

Leaning down he pets at the pups head. “Yeah, yeah. I was only gone for a couple of minutes.”

Straightening up he moves back feeling the paws fall away. Turning around he walks over to a cupboard to get a broom to sweep up all the salt.

Hearing claws click against the floor he look back to see the rope trail after him. Frowning at this he walk over to the salt starting to sweep it up. “Need to do something about that rope. Can't have you walking around with it trailing behind you like that. You might get stuck.”

Sweeping up the last salt he empties the dustpan in the bin before setting it aside.

Kneeling he whistling holding his hand out. “Come here, girl.”

Immediately the loop obediently trots over to him and he feels a wet nose nudge at his hand.

Taking out a knife he grabs the rope cutting it shorter and then adjusts the knot around the pups neck. “So you don't strangle yourself.”

Letting go of the rope he hears the pup shake itself and what sounds as scratching. Seeing the rope turn slightly and some fraying appearing he reaches out stopping the pup. “No scratching at that. It needs to stay. Can't see where you are without it.”

Ruffling the pups ears he keeps an eye on the loop as he stands walking towards the hall. “Let's find a blanket for you to lie on.”

-..-..-..

Having found an old blanket for the pup to sleep on Bobby has now settled down in his study trying to find anything about hellhound puppies.

He gave up on trying to summon Crowley after the fifth attempt.

Shutting the book he was reading he rubs at his face in frustration. “Nothing. Absolutely nothing.”

Leaning back in his chair he rolls his shoulders and neck when he suddenly hears munching noises.

Looking over at the hellpup Bobby sees one of his tombs getting shredded. “Don't chew on that!” Standing up he hurries over.

Grabbing the book he admonishes the pup. “Bad dog! No.” Looking the book over it seems as if the thick leather cover and spine has taken the brunt of the damage.

Hearing whining he looks down just to see the rope loop hunker down low on the floor. “It's not your fault. Shouldn't have left it lying on the floor.”

The whining from the pup don't stop though. “It's not your fault, ….. “ Blanking Bobby realizes that he doesn't know what to call the puppy.

“Should probably give you a name. The way this research are going you will stay here for quite some time. And Crowley won't answer any of my tries to contact him.”

Glancing thoughtfully from the mangled book to the levitating rope he raises a brow. “Well you seem to like literature. Maybe something from a classic. Though I don't know if your a boy or girl.”

Sighing he sits down on the couch.

“Well, you seem far to well behaved to be a boy.” Looking down at the book in his hand Bobby smiles wryly, “When you ain't eating my research material.”

Feeling paws land on his lap he looks back up at the rope loop floating in front of him. Feeling his hand get nudged by a nose the pup seems to whine in apology.

Setting the book aside he scratches at the back of an invisible ear, cold nose snuffling at his wrist. “Maybe, Elizabeth. Lizzy.” Getting no response what so ever from the pup he dismisses the name. “Yeah, I don't like it that much either.”

Ransacking his brain for names he can't really come up with anything original. “What about Juliet?” Getting a happy yap at that he ruffles the pups ears. “Really? Juliet?”

“Ain't that original but what's in a name?” Smiling he ruffles Juliet's ears one last time before standing.

“Let's find something for you to chew on that isn't 700 years old.”

-..-..-..

Giving up on researching Bobby has now relocated to the kitchen.

Standing in front of the the open fridge he glances from its content to over at Juliet who's currently busy demolishing the femur from a sheep.

Grabbing a t-bone Bobby had been planing to make for himself he turns taking a plate down from a shelf.

Hearing shuffling, the clicking of claws walks up to him.

Glancing down he sees the rope loop look up at him while whining eagerly. “Calm your horses. I'm just gonna plate it first.” Moving the stake over to the plate he turns to the loop. “Sit.”

Looking down at the pup he can't see Bobby realizes how stupid it was to ask her to sit.

Inspecting the rope he thinks it looks like it might have changed elevation and angle. “Ehhm, I'm just going to assume that you're sitting down.”

Setting down the plate he watches the stake get ripped apart only for the ripped off pieces to go invisible a moment later. “I'll have to go into town to by some kibble or something for you tomorrow.”

Shaking his head Bobby turns to grab a bowl that he fills with water before setting it down next to the plate. “There you go.”

Turning back to the counter he lets out a deep breath. “Guess I'll have sandwiches.”

-..-..-..

Finishing up in the study he's trying to figure out what to do with Juliet when she starts to whine.

Looking back at the invisible puppy it takes him a second to realize what she wants. “Need to go out? ”

Walking over to the kitchen with Juliet following at his heels he grabs the rope he left there.

Crouching down he whistles. “Come here.” Obediently the rope loop walks up to him stopping in front of him.

Tying the rope securely to the loop he pets Juliet on the head. “There. No running away now.”

Well outside he takes a small walk around the junkyard and nearby woods.

Glancing down at the rope obediently trotting next to him he smiles a bit. “Who would have ever thought that hellhounds knew how to heel.”

-..-..-..

Back indoors he unties Juliet. Looking at the rope loop walk away he realizes that he can't let her roam free in his house at night, she might get out while he sleeps.

Getting her blanket from the study Bobby lays it out on the kitchen floor. “Juliet, come here.”

Making sure that she stays on the blanket he grabs the salt making a circle around her. “This is only for tonight. Okay? Or at least till I figure something else out.”

Walking over to the door opening he glances back at Juliet who has started to whine. “I'll just be up stairs, I'm not abandoning you.” Turning off the light he heads up to his bedroom, Juliet howling in despair from the kitchen.

Sitting down on his bed Bobby listens to the hellhound yowling like any normal puppy would.

“Hellhound. Have to remember that.” He tries to tell himself this but just then a heart breaking howl slices through the air. Frowning he shakes his head trying to dismiss the guilt he feel. “She has to stop eventually.”

Readying himself for bed he tries to block out the howling waiting for it to stop, but after 40 minutes there doesn't seem to be any end to it any time soon.

Sitting up he shakes his head. “Gone soft is what I have.” Getting out of bed he heads down back to the kitchen.

As fast as he sets his foot in the kitchen the yowling stops getting replaces by happy yapping.

Turning on the lights he looks over at the rope loop bouncing up and down noting that the floor is scratched to hell as if she's tried to dig herself out.

With a sigh he breaks the salt circle making the invisible puppy jump up at him, paws on his thighs nose snuffling his hand.

“Guess you'll sleep with me tonight.” Grabbing the salt he heads back up to his bedroom Juliet following suit.

After making a salt line at his bedroom door he's just about to lie down in bed when he feels the mattress dip. “No, bad Juliet. Down.”

Watching the rope settle down a pleading whine comes from it.

Rubbing at his face Bobby relinquishes. “Okay, you can stay.”

Laying down he pets Juliet on the head. “Night, Juliet.”

The rest of the chapters can be found by the same name on AO3 (by Seth_Figment) and fanfiction.net (by Seth Figment).

Link to AO3 post By any other name

#supernatural #bobby singer #crowley #crobby #juliet the hellhound #hellhound puppy Juliet #hellhound #spn #My writing #s-f #fanfiction #crobby fic #fanfic

66 notes · View notes

squiishiichaos · 5 years

Note

Rikuroku? And they only start getting along after they make sora cry ((maybe out of frustration bc they were always arguing or fighting)) and learn they have a ton in common

(Anon. What the fuck. Why would you make me do this to Sora?

…but okay. Here you go.)

_______________

Sometimes, life was like glass–fragile and easily broken. Other times, no matter how hard Roxas slammed the bottle against a tile counter, it just refused to fucking break.

Sometimes–like now–it was a bit of both.

Staring at his long-time best friend on the brink of tears, he could do nothing but glare at their only mutual friend where he stood leering sidelong at the floor from his place leaned stoically against the wall.

With his hands folded across his chest, Riku looked angrier than he had any right being considering he was the one who started this whole fucking thing. If he had just listened to Roxas the last eight-hundred times he told him to leave him the fuck alone, maybe Sora wouldn’t look like someone had kicked his goddamn puppy.

But no. Of course not.

Because Riku just had to march his ass into the gym at the exact same time Roxas was using it to conveniently skip class and he just had to give him that fucking look like he was the worst piece of garbage on this fucking green Earth. And yeah, okay, maybe he had jumped the gun when he asked him what the fuck he was looking at, but could you blame him?

How Sora could even put up with accusatory looks like that was fucking beyond him, but then again, with all the glares pointed at him, maybe Sora didn’t know the all-consuming rage it brought along with it.

He certainly did now–if Riku’s bloody nose was anything to go by. Though–and Roxas would never admit this out loud–Riku had managed to slug him a good couple times before their friend came to the rescue.

Then–then–he had the audacity to tell him he was fucking lucky. What bullshit! Lucky for who? Himself, maybe, because Roxas was just getting warmed up.

“Stop it!”

Roxas paled as the Brunet tried–and failed–to compose himself with a sniffling breath. “Stop what? I’m not even doing anything!”

“I know you, Roxas! Don’t you dare try and tell me that if I wasn’t standing right here, you wouldn’t go right back to fighting him!”

Oh, no, there was no question about that.

So, he stayed silent and let that glassy glare bore right through to his soul as Sora seethed, “that’s what I thought.” A low growl that had no right coming out of Sora’s mouth–of all places–was followed by a drag of hands down sun-kissed skin. “You guys cannot keep doing this. It was okay when you were just teenagers, but we are about to graduate University, guys! You’re too old for this shit!”

Oh, fuck. Riku and Roxas shared the same wide-eyed look from across the gym as that one out-of-place word set off alarm bells in both their minds.

But before either of them could dare say a word to try and assuage the obvious hue of anger dusting the Brunet’s cheeks, he was already huffing out the last signs of tears from his lungs and staring them both down with hands poised dangerously on his hips.

“Look,” he began with a sharp edge, “This is the last time. I want to be friends with both of you without biting my nails any time I want to invite the both of you. I’m not asking for much, here. I don’t care if you hate each other, just figure shit out so you don’t get me arrested as an accomplice in murder.

“Now,” and he clapped his hands loud enough that they both nearly jumped, “I’m gonna give you guys some time alone. Talk. Fight. Blow each other. I don’t fucking care, just…please. I will not choose between the two of you.”

With that, the Brunet stalked over to the door and left two behind to stare at his wake.

The click of the door shutting came with a tension that settled in a miasma between them thicker than any mystery meat the cafeteria back in Twilight Town had ever served. It was suffocating. Debilitating. But it also came with a punch to the gut that had Roxas right back into the same fight-or-flight response that got them into this mess in the first place.

His conscience told him, this is where you say sorry, but the devil sitting pretty on his shoulder whispered, make him eat shit and grovel.

Guess which one he fucking chose. “This is all your fault.”

“Excuse me?” At least Riku had the decency to sound as annoyed as Roxas felt. “You attacked me, remember? All I did was open the fucking door!”

“Oh, horseshit! You could’ve just ignored me and gone somewhere else!”

“Where else would you like me to go, huh?”

“Literally anywhere I’m not!”

“Well, sorry to break it to you, Roxas, I don’t know where the fuck you are at every fucking hour of the goddamn day! I know this might be hard for your paranoid mind to understand, but sometimes, I actually do shit that doesn’t revolve around you. Most of the time, in fact!”

Okay, that did it. “What the actual fuck, Reek? You make it sound like I’m obsessed with you or something!”

“Oh, like you’re not?” Roxas actually reeled back at that one. Is that how it seemed? Like he had a-a-grade school crush or something?

“Fuck no! Eww, why the fuck would I ever be obsessed with you?!”

Green jades narrowed into a piercing leer. “You’ve been the bane of my existence since we were fourteen-fucking-years-old. Any time I tried to just hang out with Sora, you’d get all defensive–”

“Yeah, because you hogged him all to yourself! You literally threw a tantrum for three days straight because he asked Kairi to the Beach Ball instead of you!” Riku made rolling his eyes somehow look like the most dramatic action in the entire world. It only pissed Roxas off more that he actually made it look–dare he say it–good.

“And what about you, huh? You quit Hayner cold turkey for three whole months because he called Sora stupid once.”

“He fucking deserved that shit.” A slight quirk at the corner of Riku’s lips almost pulled a bit of pride from Roxas. It was so cynical and maniacal–the kind of dark expression the Silveret seemed to reserve only for him.

Only for me? What the fuck, brain? No!

“I never said he didn’t, did I?” Shifting where he stood leaned against the opposite wall, worn sneakers squeaked against the wood floor louder than if one of them had screamed. It made the distance lingering between them seem even larger than when Sora had been standing in the dead center of it. Made it feel unnecessary when they were supposedly in the middle of an argument.

But Roxas refused to be the one who closed it. Adamantly refused. “Then why the fuck are you bringing it up?”

“You air my dirty laundry, I air yours.” That cocky little smirk. It stuck there as Riku finally came off his perch and stood tall with a confidence he often swallowed when around his friends. A suaveness that had once–a long time ago–made him think, I wish I could be that cool.

“What’s next, then? Wanna remind me of the time I nearly got my own ass jumped by Seifer because I caught him talking shit about Sora? Or maybe you’d rather tell me about the time that you called me selfish for blowing him off on his birthday!”

“You made him cry on his Birthday! What else did you expect me to do? You didn’t even have a good excuse!”

On the contrary, Roxas had a perfectly good excuse. He had simply refused to explain over the phone how Lea and Isa had been fighting for weeks and that he was honestly afraid their engagement was one bad argument away from lapsing and his entire home life of falling to shit. Refused to let himself cry on Sora’s shoulder on his Birthday, when he should be happy and stuffing his face with cake. Or to hear his best friend calmly say, “the party can wait one more night. You need me more right now,” when he knew that the Brunet had been waiting literal months for that sleepover.

Fat lot of good lying had done him. Sora had ignored him for a solid week afterwards, and even Riku had refused to look at him. The only cherry on top of a bad life had been two weeks later, when Riku finally got up the balls to confront him and Roxas got the honor of fracturing his wrist during the ensuing fight.

Not one of his finer moments, but it had certainly gotten a lot of problems off his back in one foul swoop.

“Whatever, Asshole. You’re prol’ly still angry I won that fight.”

“Believe it or not, Roxas, that was probably one of the only times I actually respected you.”

Letting out a harsh bark of a laugh, the Blonde felt his fists ball at his sides. “Excuse me?”

“You missed that party for him, not you, and I could see the pain it caused written all over your face. Until then, I really thought you were just a selfish git, but no narcissist could feel that much guilt. In retrospect,” he sighed offhandedly with another of those classy eye-rolls, “I guess I should’ve realized you’d never miss a chance to hang out with Sora without good reason, considering you followed him like a love-struck puppy all the time.”

“Who told you?” It came out weaker than he intended it to. He wanted it to sound bitter and deadly, but it instead sounded fragile. Like the bottle he’d been slamming against the kitchen sink was finally on its way to cracking open.

Right now, Riku looked no better. “I…heard some rumors from one of the members of the Swim Team. Said they’d had a big break-up right around the same time.”

“And clever little fucking you put the pieces together.”

“Look,” Riku sighed, pushing back the long waves of his platinum hair with equally long fingers, “we obviously have our differences and I don’t wanna be your friend anymore than you probably want to be mine–” Roxas’s harsh laugh cut him off just long enough to elicit a warning glance before he continued–”but I’m not losing Sora because we’re both stubborn pieces of shit.”

“A-fucking-men.” Scratching angrily at the back of his neck, Roxas glared back at Riku. “So, what do you propose?”

“A truce.”

Roxas snorted. “A truce? What’s next? A goddamn treaty? We gonna have to bring in a fucking banker to Notarize it?”

“If we have to, yes.”

“Holy shit,” the Blonde breathed, “you’re fucking serious.”

“Yes,” the Silveret confirmed with another of those piercing leers, “as serious as a heart attack.”

Huffing out the air from his chest in an oof, Roxas ruffled the messy strands of his unkempt hair and cautiously took a couple steps into the gaping delta between them. Riku took two of his own, and like pieces on a chessboard, they slowly closed the distance remaining until it was just the two of them–alone in an open room–with nothing but a foot of air between them.

The last time they’d been this close, Roxas had literally punched the air out of his chest and kneed this fucker in the nose. Literally about five minutes ago.

Speaking of which, “I’m not gonna say sorry for your nose.”

Riku rolled his eyes. “I didn’t think you would.”

“If that’s a stipulation of the truce, I’m not agreeing to it.”

“I want your apology even less than you want to give it.”

“Good.”

“Great.”

“Fucking perfect.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake–can we just shake on this so we can leave with our friendship to Sora in tact? Please?” Roxas felt his lips tilt into a snarky grin against his will.

“Is this what I’ve reduced you to, Reek? Fucking begging?” Jade daggers honed in on his jugular with an accuracy that was almost terrifying when they were close enough the Silveret could actually get a clean shot for his vitals. Dare he say it, Roxas was almost…proud?

Fuck it.

Reaching out a hand, Roxas let the grin twist into a challenging smirk. “I, Roxas, hereby agree to not start shit with you while in the presence of Sora. This includes–” he faked a gag that earned him a reprimanding slap to the back of his head and his own little demonic laugh–”occasionally engaging you in conversation if the occasion demands it.”

“You know, I’m not that bad.”

“Certainly are easy on the eyes.”

“Did you just–”

“Shake my fucking hand, Reeks. I ain’t got all damn day.”

Rolling his eyes, Riku slapped his hand into his and gripped it tight enough to almost earn him a wince. Never one to be outdone, Roxas squeezed back with enough force to have the Swimmer glaring bloody murder at his would-be corpse. “I, Riku, too, hereby agree to not start or answer shit with you while in the presence of Sora. Should that mean putting up with your fucking bullshit–”

“You love me, admit it.”

“Never said I didn’t.”

“Wait–”

“–Then so fucking be it.”

“Alright, now kiss already!” Never had the two broken apart faster than they did as Xion’s mirthful voice echoed through the empty walls of the gym.

While Riku maintained a composed air about him, Roxas gaped at the little traitor where she clapped mischievously from her spot beside a cheeky-looking Sora. With his hands clasped behind his head and that victorious expression painted across his fucking face, the Brunet was–for once–almost unbearable to look at.

Gazing sidelong at Riku, the Blonde seethed, “this feel like a fucking set-up to you?”

The Silveret shrugged his broad shoulders and pushed his head forward in a playful tease as he walked toward them. “And you say you’re not paranoid.”

“Hey! Fuck you, asshole! I am not paranoid!”

And just like that, Roxas threw the glass bottle over his shoulder and forgot to listen for the shatter while he ran after his new acquaintance.

#rikuroku #riku #roxas #kingdom hearts #prompt time #i actually loved writing this #writing sassy rikuroku is my lifeblood

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devilsnwitches · 5 years

Text

SSDD - Ch2 - Witchy Instincts

AO3 <Link - Written by Me & @lynxtigerwritings

Tags = AU Canon-Divergent / Canon-Typical Behavior

Pairings = Vergil-OFC / Dante-OFC / Nero-Kyrie / V-OFC

Note - READ LOVE’S SACRIFICE IT’S V PROLOGUE - Pairing V/OFC

“So I knew about Lysander one,” Dante said as he leaned back into a chair, a magazine on his lap. Vergil was out cold, and Charlotte decided to go downstairs and rest since she stayed up most of the night. For someone that promised a “watch”, she took more than her fair share. It was practically daybreak now, and Yvette had to do a combination of shove her sister down the stairs and tuck her securely into a couch to make sure she’d never move again. “I hate to say it, but I didn’t know there was a Lysander two that took on the family business.”

Startled from getting lost in her own head, Yvette blinked at him for a second before his words clicked and she nodded, “Yeah, sorry. Lotty and I don’t do every job together, a lot of the time splitting up. I also run my own little ‘at home’ business, so there’s that. I’m not always out there slayin’ monsters, but I’m always available if Lotty needs me.”

“Lotty huh? How did she get that nickname?” Dante never heard of Charlotte’s nickname, but now that he had it...he was pretty certain he was going to get shot for it. Regardless, he was still curious about it. “What at home business do you do?”

“Well, I’m younger by two years and when I was learning to talk I couldn’t say her name properly. I called her Lotty and she calls me Vetty when she’s being sentimental or upset about something. As for what I do? I go to people’s homes, businesses, or whatever and I sage cleansing and purification. Sometimes it sparks a demon attack, sometimes it doesn’t. I also offer meditation sessions and crystal massage.” She grinned, “I’m a nut for shiny rocks.”

“Lysander witches, makes sense.” Dante nodded. “Vetty’s adorable. Kind of reminds me of a puppy.”

“Lotty and Vetty could both be pupper names,” Yvette snickered, “Though honestly, that’s a first. Dunno how she’d feel about being called a puppy. She’s more like a moody cat.”

Dante could see it. “My brother’s the same way. They get along well. At least, as well as one can get when someone is literally burning the poison out of you.” His eyes wandered to Vergil’s sleeping form. They were pieces of work. Both of them. “He’s been gone for seven years. I wasn’t really expecting him to come back.”

“Geez, seven years?” she toyed with the silver spinner ring on her left thumb, also watching Vergil, “I can’t…” she shook her head, “I can’t even begin to imagine what seven years without Lotty would be like...I mean, if she’s gone longer than a week on a demon mission I get worried sick.”

“Well, in honesty my brother and I aren’t exactly heart to heart types of people. To be frank, I didn’t even know Vergil even had a woman, let alone a kid for a long time until I randomly dropped in during a bad time.” Dante sighed, kicking his legs to cross them the other direction. “Nero was the one that told me about the seven-year thing. We...tend to stay out of each other’s business. The only common connection we have is Nero. He’s the one that might take over Devil May Cry when I get ready to retire or some shit.”

“‘The family business, saving people hunting things’...oh my god my nerd showed I’m so sorry.” Yvette smacked her hand over her face.

“Supernatural?” Dante snickered. “You have to admit, they come up with some really interesting ideas. I wouldn’t mind fighting some of the demons they’re hunting, but I’m not too sure they can handle ours.”

“Two different worlds, that’s for goddamn sure. They’d shit themselves seeing our demons, I wholeheartedly agree.” Yvette blew her hair from her face, “What was it like? Finding out Nero was family?”

“Insane,” Dante admitted bluntly. “Vergil’s not the type that goes after women, let alone a longstanding relationship. But they seemed to have lasted...for a while. I wouldn’t blame her if she walked away. Our lives are difficult. Hard. Vergil, more so.”

“If Vergil’s not the type to pick a woman lightly, she wouldn’t have walked.” Seeing the way he relaxed under Charlotte’s touch gave plenty away, and Dante’s explanation helped solidify that idea. “What would make more sense to me is if she met the same fate as my parents because you’re right, this life’s hard. Dangerous as fuck. Dog-eat-dog world and all that.”

“Well can’t blame me for hoping that she was smart.” Dante sighed, “But you’re not wrong. Missing for seven years and coming back looking like that? He must have gone after her, or something happened in the Underworld and didn’t want to tell me about it. We have our differences about it. It’s caused us both a lot of pain.” He stretched. “Enough with the depressing talk. Nothing’s gonna get fixed if we mope about it.”

“Yeah, that was harsh. Sorry.” She eyeballed him, “Stiff?”

“Nothing I can’t handle, Yeti. You’re good. Stiff? Yeah, a bit.” Dante agreed. “It’s from sitting in uncomfortable places for too long, I’m sure.”

“I’ll give you a surprise if you never call me Yeti again.”

“Where’s your sense of adventure? I thought you were the less stuck up one.”

“Rude. Fine. Close your eyes.” When he arched a brow at her she did the same until he stubbornly obeyed. Standing up she went around and wiggled and stretched her fingers before she pounced. This was what she really enjoyed doing, giving massages. Taking into account his thick coat she adjusted pressure and slid along his muscles smoothly.

“Oh god, that hits the spot.” Dante groaned as she got right into a good knot. “Damn.”

“Take this off and it’ll get better.” Yvette’s grin went from ear to ear as she tapped his shoulder and lifted her hands long enough for him to shrug his coat, draping it back over the seat and she went right back at it. This time she even worked along his neck, back and forth creating gentle friction, then along the back neck tendons, behind his ears to his temples, back again, working his shoulders and repeating. Even though she’d been awake forever by now, doing something she loved made her giddy and woke her up.

As she worked on the knots around his neck and shoulders, he felt himself relax completely into her hold. It wasn’t often he let himself go like that, but this was a safe spot and he knew the Lysander reputation well enough to know that if they had his back on the battlefield, then they’d have his back here as well. He wasn’t even aware when he started purring deep in his chest.

Biting her lip to keep herself in check, Yvette took a breath through her nose and calmed down, instead focusing on the rhythm of it and eventually her own body rocked to the movement. She didn’t hum like her sister, so the only sound was the soft ‘scritch scritch’ when she went through his hair, his purring and soft groans when she did something particularly good. Eventually, her wrists and fingers started to cramp and she gave him a couple of pets to smooth his hair down after messing it up, “I think he’ll be fine if you wanna crash,” she whispered in his ear so not to startle him from his reverie.

It sounded like a good idea, but Dante decided against it, shaking his head minutely and then pulling himself out of the trance. “Nah, but thanks for the moment.” He told her sincerely. “It’s been a while.”

“More than welcome,” she looked at the window. Sunrise. “You cool if I do, then?”

“Go for it,” Dante assured. “I got this.”

It was much later in the afternoon. Nico wasn’t at all surprised to know that the apartment was still crowded as hell from the appearance of a couple of witches and Vergil coming back from wherever the hell he was. It was enough of a crowd that made her go back into the garage to fix the damn van that they used for mobile calls. She wandered out, cigarette already in her hand and ready for a lighter when she noticed a shadow coming across the garage.

Great, it was going to be Nero and Vergil all over again, wasn’t it? “Hey psycho!” Nico called to the shadow that paused. “Stop loitering! Either get yer ass in here or leave.”

Here’s the thing, Nico was expecting a demon. She was expecting someone to go under the door, weapon out and she would have to call for Nero to save her dumbass and Nero would never let her live it down for weeks. What she wasn’t expecting was a curvy goth pinup girl. She was a gorgeous piece of work and Nico could appreciate it when she saw it. “You lookin’ for something?”

“Not really a something.” The girl said, her voice soothing. Nico wondered who would out mom the other: this woman or Kyrie. “I’m looking for someone that runs Devil May Cry. Is that you?”

“Girl, you came to the right place with a bunch of us hoarding around a coffee table. Only you also picked terrible timing since one of us is down for the count and we’re all losing our heads over him.” Nico said, bringing the cigarette to her mouth to inhale and then exhale the smoke. “What did you do? Summon a demon you can’t get rid of? Pretending you’re a witch?”

The pained expression on the woman’s face told Nico that she hit some nails on the head, but not all of them. “Not me.” The girl said, and now that Nico was getting a closer look at her, damn. This girl knew how to put on makeup.

“Your eyeliner looks like it can cut a bitch.” Nico complimented. “Come upstairs. I’ll get the morons.”

“Thanks.” The girl smiled, and Nico snubbed out the cigarette before guiding her back up to the apartment.

“So, what’s your name?” Nico asked conversationally as she shoved the door open.

“Alexina.”

“How many nicknames you got outta that name?”

“I’m still counting to this day.” Alexina sighed.

Nico whistled. “Lucky I only get the one. Oi! Loser!” She called into the apartment. “I got a job for you hot shit!”

“Be more specific on the ‘loser’ part, Nico-nee,” Yvette chirped and Kyrie smacked her chest with the back of her hand. The two lighter brunettes were indeed sitting ‘round the coffee table.

“Customer?” Kyrie eyed Alexina and immediately she frowned, “What do you take? Coffee or tea?”

“Don’t know if customer’s the right word, but uh...I normally take a coffee.” Alexina said turning towards Kyrie. “Thank you.”

“OI!” Nico shouted again.

“I HEARD YOU THE FIFTH TIME!” Nero’s voice rang through the apartment and Alexina blinked as the boy in question walked down the stairs. His hair was short, and he looked...young. Younger than Alexina thought he was. Maybe they wouldn’t have a clue. Maybe this was a bad idea after all. He glanced at the girl that was standing beside Nico and gave her only a once over. “Sorry about my mechanic.” He said. “She’s usually better trained than this.”

Nico casually flipped him off. “I’m goin’ back downstairs in case the van’s needed. Y'all let me know where I need to head.” She said as she walked off without another word.

If there was one thing Nero couldn’t do, it was talking to strangers. Customer service was not his thing still. Kyrie could handle them so much better, and Dante was probably heading down here since Charlotte was taking over watching his dad.

“So,” Nero said slowly as he sat down on the coffee table, leaning a bit forward. “How may I help?”

“It’s more or less a question that I have,” Alexina said slowly. “Do you know anything about demon summoning.”

“I am not summoning a damn thing,” Nero said bluntly.

“I’m not asking you to, I’m asking if you knew anything about it.” Alexina held her hands up. “As in. Do you know to reverse a deal.”

Yvette was intrigued, but she didn’t want to steal Nero’s thunder so she simply listened. Kyrie was bustling about getting coffee in the coffee maker, but she peered over her shoulder, “We might be able to answer that better if you explain to us what happened.”

Nero watched the woman for a moment. The way she lifted her hand up to the tooth that was around her neck. How she fingered and played with it as she thought. “Someone close to you made a deal huh.” He didn’t have to be Sherlock Holmes to figure that out. “That sucks.”

Her lips twitched. “It was my fault.” The bluntness of the statement took Nero back a bit. “I was sick. He thought it was a good idea. The only idea. Summoned a demon and now he’s the one suffering. Apparently, his energy and demon energy aren’t...he’s not a witch. I at least don’t think he is. I don’t know his bloodline, he’s an orphan, see. Clearly, something’s going wrong with whatever the deal was.”

“How?”

“Best way to describe it is that he can force the energy to create familiars. I’ve only met two of them, but there’s three.” Alexina said softly. “Griffon’s alright. Mouthy and a bitch, but he’s alright. Shadow’s a huge cat, and I don’t have any problems but...I don’t know it’s a bad feeling in my gut that tells me something’s wrong.”

“If I may?” Yvette piped up, looking at Nero for permission. It was never a bad thing to follow Char’s rule about not sticking their noses in the business of Devil May Cry, but ‘witch’ and ‘demon deal’ in the same breath of conversation wasn’t a good sign.

“Go for it.” Nero gestured.

“Did your friend happen to mention to you that a summoning for a normal person isn’t supposed to work?” Yvette went right to the point.

Alexina sucked in a sharp breath. Nero had a feeling that the friend probably glossed over that fact, but Alexina was a sharp cookie. “I figured as much.” She said after a moment. “I study the occult for fun.”

“I bet your friend does, too,” she rubbed her forehead, “An orphan, yet you’re sure he’s not a witch. It’s rare as fuck, but not unheard of for a modern witch to start a new line. There was a lot more magic and raw force and energy back when my bloodline started. Could you tell me more about him so I can piece this together?”

“Admittedly, I’m the bookworm when it comes to the occult. He’s more of the...poet. Literally. I met him back in high school.” She sat down on the edge of the couch, smoothing out her skirt. “We have one of those friendships where you can ask us how we met and we’ll have several different stories. What I do remember was that he stood out and blended in. Quiet. Honest. But only if you ask. Only if you even try.” She rubbed her lips together, smearing the dark raspberry color around but nothing too rough. “Mom died after we graduated. We moved in together since we were the only family we had left. But then I got sick.” There was a long pause. “He thought I was going to die.”

Kyrie listened as Yvette only hummed at first as she went quiet, sinking into her chair, forefinger over her mouth and spinning the ring on her thumb. Putting together the coffee, taking Alexina in and making a good hard guess on how she liked it, she brought it over, “He had a purpose.”

“My life means more to him.” Alexina agreed as she took the coffee cup. “I called him out on it when I was in the hospital, but...he was adamant it was the only way and that he wasn’t going to...walk away. He was ready for me to. Griffon told me that later on when he wasn’t around to overhear. I know it’ll mean my death.” She looked at Nero firm. “But I’m a fighter. I’ve been around chronic illness all my life, I can do it again.”

Nero looked over at Yvette.

“If there’s a reverse I’d have to research it and ask my sister to help, but in all actuality, it may not be as much of a pressing matter as you think.” She tapped her chin, “He’s a poet so he’s eloquent. Had a strong definite purpose. Was no doubt willing to accept death if you lived. That’s the problem a lot of modern wannabes don’t have the solid willpower. A sliver of doubt at any given moment during their attempted rituals and it fails. Or they summon something and it doesn’t end well. He’s still around and here you are, healthy as all can be. Then there are his familiars. They sound kind. Protectors. What he did was profound. That’s more than a success. That’s a triumph.”

“As much as you’re singing praise,” Nero couldn’t help this part. “You’re talking about an untrained witch running around with three familiars that we don’t know what they can do. As well as, what price did he pay for it?”

Yvette smacked her forehead with the heel of her hand, “This is why Char is around. I’m hairbrained as fuck. Thanks and sorry. Yeah, a brand-spankin' new witch is sure to draw attention. Where the hell do you guys live?”

“Across town, on the outskirts of the city.” Alexina nodded her head towards a direction. “We like the quiet.”

“I bet you do,” Nero muttered. There were hardly ever any attacks on the outskirts. Not a lot of humans, not a lot of chaos. Now that there was a witch there, he could expect that to grow. “It sounds like me to it’s not much a reversal, but we can do something to help with his powers. That’s a start. While he harnesses those, it might slow down whatever price he made right?” He looked at Yvette. “Or do you think that’ll speed it up?”

“No, no, you’re on the right track. Smart kid,” Yvette beamed at him, “Training helps strengthen the spirit as well as the body. Being a poet will end up being useful if he wants to learn spells. Hell, his favorite poems could be spells if he damn well wanted them to be.”

“He’s stubborn enough I’m sure,” Alexina said dryly. “I’m not sure how to bring him here without him getting suspicious. Hell, he’s probably wondering where I’m at as we speak.”

“You didn’t tell him you were doing this?”

“He didn’t exactly ask me for my permission when he summoned a demon so I think this is more than fair.” Alexina shrugged.

“Yeah, definitely fair. You say you live crosstown? I kinda live in the middle of there and here, and if you’d like you could make up some bullshit story how you heard about my little cleansing business and I can drop by your place?”

Without another word, Alexina pulled out her phone from her purse and tossed it to Yvette. “Type in your number and I can text you the address. I’m on Seaside.” At her confused look, Alexina frowned. “You know, past the intersection of Dwight and Morningstar?” Another confused look. “You are terrible with directions aren’t you.”

“That’s why Charlotte’s my GPS.” Yvette deadpanned but she fiddled with Alexina’s phone and put in her contact information as well as her sister’s for good measure, “Pay me for gas and it’s all good. Curiosity's got me too good for me to care much about pricing.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Alexina assured as she set the half-drunk coffee cup onto the table and she looked at Nero. “I hope whoever’s injured is feeling better soon.” She said gently as she stood up. “I should take my leave before I get a phone call and Griffon squawking.”

“Yeah,” Nero said watching her leave the apartment and he turned to Yvette. “I never heard of anyone summoning a demon and living to tell about it. Either this friend of hers is a witch, or he’s part-demon of some sort.”

“I’m voting neither, but he did make himself a witch with the summoning. Believe what you want, kiddo, but I’m gunna go with my witchy instincts on this one.”

“Go for it, at least it’s not my job. I’d fuck this all up.” Nero shrugged as he got off the coffee table. “I’m going to check in on father and Charlotte. I bet she’ll be curious too. About this mysterious friend of Alexina’s that can summon a demon and get familiars out of it.”

“Might as well tell Dante there’s coffee,” Kyrie smiled at him, “I’m sure he’ll appreciate it after not sleeping all night.”

“I’ll bring him a cup.” Nero agreed as he went to her side and pressed a kiss against her cheek before heading to the kitchen to grab that cup of coffee that Kyrie made and go back upstairs where people were.

It bothered him to no end really. He’d do the same for Kyrie, no question if their situation had been the same as those two. Yet, he couldn’t shake off this feeling that her friend was going to be a lot more dangerous than any demon he saw yet.

He should’ve taken the time to ask Alexina what she even knew about demons. Oh well.

So far, the constant pain and agony had mostly gone away. His back was the source of it, still soaking in the antidote, but his body ached. Charlotte had been kind and brought him a glass of water, so his throat wasn’t parched and feeling like a desert, either. Propped against the pillows, Vergil had his ankles crossed in front of him and his personal book in his lap Dante had retrieved from his coat. Not for the first time and certainly not the last time he was grateful for his demonic healing, though he wouldn’t be fully well for at least a few more days.

Charlotte had taken refuge in a seat, curled into a ball that looked uncomfortable but she made no noises of complaint and she barely spoke, though sometimes she’d leaned her head towards Vergil when she heard him mutter a line under his breath, but never asked to repeat it or to speak up. The door opened and she looked up. “Hey, Nero. Dante’s in the shower.”

“I figured.” Nero sighed as he handed her the coffee instead. “You get this then.” He watched her take it from his hands and curled up even more with it. “How are you doing, pops?” Nero turned his attention to Vergil.

“Being weak is not something I enjoy, but…” Vergil examined the same hand that had reached out to Nero yesterday in the garage, no longer grey and black-veined, though he was still too pale for anyone’s liking, “...I am doing well. Charlotte’s antidote is working on healing my back now.”

“That’s good,” Nero said as he looked at his father. He looked a lot better than yesterday, but the image still burned into his mind. Of the flecking skin, and the black veins. He turned towards Charlotte. “So I got a question for you. Know anything about demon summonings?”

“I’ve done a few in my lifetime.” Charlotte pulled her shirt down to show a long scar down her neck and chest. “I learned my lesson. Why?”

“You’re going to go on a wild trip with this one. Apparently, there’s a girl who has a friend, not saying names here cuz she didn’t give me any, who not only successfully summoned a demon but made a deal with it, too.” Nero clicked his tongue. “Vet’s playing detective.”

“Of course she is.” Charlotte sipped the coffee.

“A common occurrence?” Vergil turned his head only slightly to look at her, “You don’t seem at all concerned.”

“It’s Vetty.” Charlotte turned towards Vergil this time. “The only time I need to get concerned is when she bites off more than she can chew. Otherwise, it’s if there’s a big demon she’s probably near it.” She turned to Nero. “I get the feeling that “successful demon summoning” line has a story behind it.”

“Yeah. Friend’s not a witch until now.” Nero concluded.

“That’s where everything goes to hell.” Charlotte sighed. “Whoever the friend is walked over my grave.”

“That is an interesting turn of phrase.” Vergil drawled, his attention seemingly returning to his book, “So will you be off, then? Duty’s done, after all.”

“Hmmm.” Charlotte shrugged. “I’ll let my sister suffer. Give her free reign. See what she comes up with.”

“A damaged car and a broken ego.”

“See if Vetty was here to hear that, you’d be window flying right now.” Charlotte gestured towards the window using her coffee cup, grinning at Nero. She looked over at Vergil. “I’ll stay here and be back up for once.”

Nero looked between the two of them, made a soft noise and then headed out towards the door. “Tension is tension. I know where I’m not needed.”

Vergil knew everyone wanted answers, and he was secretly surprised that Charlotte had decided to stay. “I know not all sibling relationships are like mine and Dante’s. You do not have to remain here, the danger has passed.”

She turned her attention towards him and she sipped on the coffee once more. “Is this you asking me to leave, or is this you wondering why I’m staying?”

“Stay because you want to, not because you feel you should.” Vergil answered instead, flipping the page of his book even as his eyes read not the words, “I only have a problem if it is unnecessary, but I cannot stop you from doing what you please, same as I cannot stop Dante from eating pizza morning noon and night.”

“Stick pineapples on it and olives.” Charlotte unfolded herself from the chair. “I’ll go ahead and take your advice then and come by later. I’m stealing Dante’s cup of coffee regardless.”

A whisper of a smirk graced his face, “That’s more like it.”

“I can be a mastermind of evil too.” Charlotte grinned as she walked towards the door. “You owe me a page of reading though.” She grinned wider as she shut the door behind her.

“Xina. What did you do?” While their lives didn’t necessarily have a rhyme or reason, Vitale liked to believe he knew this particular woman like the back of his hand. The first tickbox that alerted him something was out of the ordinary was her long absence. He knew when she visited her usual haunts. Since making the deal, feeling her energy stretch at different distances had fascinated him and gave him an odd sense of comfort. Today, however, she had gone far enough out of reach it nearly set him into a panic attack and Griffon’s constant stream of words had been his only distraction. The following tick box had been her attitude. Aloof might be the best word he had at the moment.

“V almost had a heart attack because you went too far.” Griffon echoed his thoughts exactly, appearing without being commanded to and landing on Xina’s shoulder. “Shakespeare didn’t know if you were going to go be gone for good this time or what!”

“Sorry.” Alexina reached and scratched Griffon’s back, letting him ruffle his feathers before turning towards her best friend. “I went to the city.” She promised. “You know. Looking for answers.” She looked over at her friend. He looked exhausted, tired circles were gentle around his eyes and he was holding himself up well, but she could tell that he wanted to topple over. She felt guilty that she had made him worry so much. She felt her heart sink into her stomach as she watched him watch her. A long time ago, Alexina wouldn’t have to question what was going through his mind. Now, she felt as though she was reaching and feeling the air.

“Answers...about me?” V pressed his hand to his chest, brow pinching. He was well aware all of this still bothered her, even three, nearly four months later and his attempts at comforting her didn’t always work. “I’m still here, Xina. Life still goes on.”

Instead of answering, Alexina closed the distance and threw herself into a hug. Griffon let out a cackle as he flew upwards and away from the two lovebirds. At least, he knew they were. Griffon watched as V slowly brought her closer against his chest, letting her in. It’s been months since the summoning, and Griffon was starting to tell that something was on the brink of changing. Whatever Alexina did, it was either bad or good and Griffon wasn’t about to say a word. Let V figure it out.

He was still here. She could practically squeeze the life out of him since he was so skinny and bony. He always had that type of body, but with the deal, she wondered if one day he’d turn into dust and disappear on the wind. She pulled away, trying to find her courage, her bravery. He was here for now. Life would go on as normal, but she had to obey her instincts. Nothing about this was normal. Normal people can’t summon. What he did was a success, a triumph. “I won’t lie to you. I found a witch.”

Griffon let out an uncomfortable sound at that.

V’s eyes found Griffon’s, “Is that supposed to mean something?”

“It means pretty boy that she might’ve found a way to go back into that coffin in the grave you’ve been keeping her away from.” Griffon translated.

“Not yet.” Alexina gave Griffon a dark look. “What it means is that I might have found someone that we can talk to. Someone for advice.”

“Not yet means you’re thinking it.” V frowned, “Good people for advice? What advice do you believe they have for me?”

That was the question, wasn’t it? She reached for his hand and took it into hers, biting her lip as she tried to find a way to explain. “They were impressed that you were able to gain familiars and to do a successful summoning. That has to mean something, V.”

“She’s not wrong there pretty boy,” Griffon concluded. “We already established, sweetheart, he’s not a witch.”

“No, but what if he’s the start?” Alexina turned towards Griffon. “Or what if there’s a lineage somewhere that we don’t know. Yvette was pretty sure that was the case.”

“Oh boy,” Griffon shuddered. “Lysander Sisters are back. More trouble.”

Of course, Griffin would know them or know of them. V squeezed Alexina’s hand back, albeit not very enthusiastic, “Should I be concerned for you, Griffon?” He wasn’t about to give up his deal, and he would protect his familiars as he swore to protect Alexina.

“Awww Shakespeare, you’re melting my stone cold heart.” Griffon chirped. “They’re strong witches, but nothing that we can’t handle. No, I’d worry more about Hathaway over there. They can help you, pretty boy, but they’ll toss her to the fire. Try to get her to be a demon hunter or some shit.”

“Demon hunter?” V muttered. He wasn’t entirely sure how he should feel about that. Letting out a long sigh he looked down at Xina, “Did you have plans with the witch you found?”

“I didn’t say anything about them showing up but they might?” Alexina offered.

“Lysander’s don’t believe in schedules. They do what they want.” Griffon ruffled his feathers. “They’re no worse than the Sparda family. Show up, do their thing, walk away with property damage. Do you two have insurance? 'Cause you might need that. Especially if little Lysander’s going to be coming over.”

“She’s not that bad,” Alexina assured quickly. “Don’t listen to him, V. Yvette’s not...that insane.”

Unfortunately, V was more inclined to believe Griffon on that one, but he nodded to Alexina anyway. Might as well see how it would go and make his own conclusions.

#dmc #devil may cry #original female characters #dmc crew #v is a witch #dmc v #dmc vergil #dmc dante #ao3 #canon typical behavior #swearing #au #alternate universe #canon divergence #SSDD #witches #witchcraft #poison

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shimmershaewrites · 6 years

Text

Waltzing's for Dreamers, Chapter 13 (a Walking Dead story, Caryl AU).

Title: Waltzing's for Dreamers

Rating: PG-13?

Warnings: adult language, angst. Allusions to Carol/Other.

Characters/Pairings: Daryl Dixon, T-Dog, Noah, mentions of Beth Greene, Sophia Peletier, Carol Peletier, Merle Dixon, Karen, Enid, mentions of Noah/Beth, Jacqui, Jacqui/T-Dog, past Merle/Karen, past Carol/Daryl, original character.

Waltzing’s for Dreamers

Seven years after Vegas. Middle of March.

His mouth tastes like ass.

That’s the first thought that coalesces in Daryl’s sludge-ridden brain when he fights his way back to consciousness. His mouth tastes like ass—hairy ass—with an undercurrent of Jack and…wait a damn minute. Just when did he board a fuckin’ Tilt-a-Whirl? Suddenly finding himself spread-eagled on the rottin’ porch, squinting into the too-bright morning sun and trying to figure out why the kid from his last period is looking at him like he’s a member of the undead, he groans. Tries to sit up but that just spurs the jackhammer battering against the confines of his skull to maximum and shit. Is that T kicking at his boots? Tossing a grease-soaked bag in his general direction with a smile that’s more pitying that anything?

“I’d offer you hair of the dog, but…”

He opens up the bag and takes an experimental sniff. Winces when his stomach rolls like he’s trying to surf a ten-story wave with a kid’s piece of shit boogie board and sets the offering aside. Notices the stray that’s been haunting the place since his first night back lurking in the yard, big brown eyes peering out from beneath an overgrown crepe myrtle bush, and grumbles. “Man, don’t even.”

“Just saying. You two looked plenty cozy to me,” T says. His grin a little more genuine as he falls back into his old pattern of trying to wrestle a matching smile from Daryl’s reluctant lips. “Right, Noah?”

The teen smirks. Ducks his head and mumbles something indecipherable beneath his breath as he wisely leaves the two of them alone.

T shakes his head and offers him a hand. “Kids these days.”

Daryl lets him pull him to a sitting position but waves him off from doing anything more. In response, his old friend plants himself on the porch beside him and with the farmhouse’s weathered wall at their backs and a grove of towering pecan trees beyond the crumbling stone pathway, the tire swing swaying in the breeze, they lapse into a familiar sort of silence. Just let each other be while they gather up their thoughts because it’s been a long time. Too damn long. Eventually, he just has to know. “How’d you know where to find me?”

“Kids these days,” Dog repeats. “They talk.”

“What kids?” Daryl asks, even though he has a pretty good inkling who before the question has fully left his mouth. The boy? Noah? He’s a quiet sort, much like he’d been that age. Observant. And the little Greene girl that never strays too far from his side when she can help it? Well, she ain’t loud exactly. Not in your face confident like far too many of her little jerk classmates are, but she notices things, too. Seen his truck coming and going as he passes her daddy’s farm every day. Talks and knows some people that know some people and they talk, he’s sure. Which leads him to wonder. “Carol know?”

“That you bought this old place? Don’t think so. That you got trashed last night? Probably, considering the way things went down between you and Soph yesterday. Those two are tight. ‘Specially since you…”

“Go ‘head. Say it. Ain’t like I don’t know I’m an asshole.” He picks at his thumbnail. Sighs as he tries to bury the all-too-fresh memory of the words ‘Phia had thrown at him like knives. It’s an impossible task. Because even now, he’s bleeding from the cuts. Don’t know if he can stop the seeping before it becomes a hemorrhage. Don’t know if he should even try because ultimately? She’s not wrong. No matter his reasons—reasons he’d once held to be valid and honorable—he’d still left. Still broken the promises he’d made and hell. He don’t want to think about it because all he can picture is her pretty little face. Fierce and tear-stained as she’d landed gut punch after gut punch and as much as it’d hurt. As much as it still goddamn hurts, he can’t help but be proud because she’s got her mama’s back just as much as Carol’s got hers and it’s a thing of fuckin’ beauty, those two. No. Those three, he reminds himself. Feeling his throat close up and make it even harder to force the next words out. “I left. Abandoned them. Right to hate me. Don’t blame ‘em.”

“They don’t hate you.”

“Do,” he insists. “Know what she said to me? I thought you were dead. I thought you were dead ‘cause no way would my daddy leave me. How the fuck does she not hate me, Man?”

T takes his time answering and he looks just as torn up as Daryl feels. “Soph. Carol, too. They’re hurt. There’s a difference,” he tells him. “That woman hated you, she wouldn’t have cared enough to check on you.”

“Carol called you?” Hope flares in his chest. Instant and bright before it fizzles away because there’s that look again. The one full of sympathy that looks more like a grimace than anything. That look told him she cared, yeah. But not enough to outright refuse another man’s ring. Put his back on.

“Went about it roundabout. Reached out to your brother. Then his crusty white ass called me,” T finally admits.

“Merle?” Daryl scoffs. Immediately regrets it when the pounding at his temples resumes. “Merle called you?”

“Shocked me, too.”

“He’s changed.”

“Sounded like it.”

“Got himself a girl. Enid. Same age as ‘Phia. Little older. Real wiseass.” Something resembling a laugh sneaks past his lips. “Thought she got it from Merle but Karen ain’t all sugar sweet neither.”

“Reckon she wouldn’t be, getting with the likes of Merle,” T-Dog chuckles.

“Reckon you’re right,” Daryl admits. He notices the kid out in the yard, trying to coax the mutt out of its hiding spot and into the open. Swears beneath his breath and earns himself a frown from the man beside him in the process. “What? He makes friends with the damn flea bag, I’ll never get rid of it.”

“You feeding it? Don’t even try to tell me you’re not. Man, I seen that bag of food in the back of your truck. You done splurged on the good stuff. Might as well start thinking up names.”

“Pfft.”

“Think I’m kidding.”

“Stop,” Daryl mutters. Resting his head back against the wall with a groan. Letting his gritty eyes drift closed as a hard-fought smile twitches at his lips. “How you know the kid?” he asks after a while.

“Remember Jacqui?”

His brow furrows in thought. Eventually, he nods. Eyes still shut against the beaming sun. “Yeah.”

“Noah’s her cousin’s boy. The one that lives up in Virginia? Anyway. They’ve been having trouble up there with a gang. Calls themselves the Wolves. His mama thought he might have a better chance of it making it down here in sleepy little King County. She just didn’t figure on him falling into puppy love. And I’m not talking about your furry friend over there. Get my drift?”

“The little Greene girl?”

“Beth,” T confirms. “Lives down the road a mile or so. When the kid found out I was coming here, he up and volunteered to tag along.”

“Bet,” Daryl remarks. Fumbling for the forgotten takeout bag when his stomach grumbles. Pulling out a biscuit and unwrapping it, taking first a small, careful bite. Then a much bigger bite when his stomach don’t rebel completely. “Still don’t really explain how you know the kid. Unless you and Jacqui…” The shit-eating grin on Dog’s face answers the unasked question for him and he lowers the breakfast sandwich to his lap. Wraps it and the bag back up and tucks it away for later. “You and Jacqui? Really?”

“What you mean really?”

“Nothing. Just thought you two were friends.”

“We were. We are. I’m here to tell you, Man. Sometimes those old sayings? They’re true. Friends really do make the best…”

“That’s alright,” Daryl cuts him off. “Get it. I do. M’happy for you.”

“Thanks. Appreciate it. Happy for you, too.” When that comment earns him a raised brow, he clarifies. “Happy you came to your senses and finally come home.”

“Well,” Daryl mutters as he watches him stand. Dust off the seat of his pants. This time when he offers him a hand up, he takes it. Does the same. “Might be the only one.”

“Don’t do that, Man.”

“Do what?”

“Throw yourself a pity party. Own your shit.”

“Own my shit?” Daryl echoes. “You don’t even know the half of my shit.”

“Doesn’t matter. Still the only way you’re going to be able to work toward making things right.”

He’s right. Course he is. Don’t make the words any easier for him to say. It just isn’t the Dixon way. So he dips his head in deference. Casts his gaze to T’s own truck, laden down with all the tools of his trade and an idea starts to form as he looks over the ramshackle old farmhouse. One that the other man reads all over his face, no words necessary. Sighs but offers to shake on it all the same.

“Gonna take lots of work. Hard work. Carol and those kids, though?”

“They’re worth fighting for.”

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jesbakescookies · 6 years

Text

Without Darkness: Chapter Twenty Excerpt

I felt like revisiting some WD smut. Here’s their pool table adventure.

"And where exact-fucking-ly are we going doll?" He grumbled as they reached the bottom floor and headed to the common room. Kayla ignored him as they walked, her path taking them into the small space used by the Saviors to unwind. There were a few card tables which allowed them to play poker among other games, a small bar, as well as a pool table and ping pong table. Negan smirked as she let go of his hand and removed her leather jacket. She was rolling her sleeves up when he asked, "are we doing, what I think were doing?"

"If you're thinking we're playing the pool game I promised you forever ago, then yes. No complaining when I make you my bitch."

Negan grinned at her, removing his own jacket and taking a pool cue off the wall. "Well dollface, I can't wait to see you try."

He watched as she chalked the end of her stick, strolling around the table. Gesturing to the table with her chin she offered, "you wanna break?"

"Ladies first darlin'." He rasped, his head cocking to the side as she bent over the table for the first shot. "Fuuuuuck, you're gonna distract the shit out of me aren't you sweet cheeks?"

Kayla smiled coyly at him, her hands maneuvering the cue just so, to sink another striped ball in a corner pocket. She'd rounded the table, her body stretching over the edge for her next shot. Negan slid up behind her, his hand gripping her hip tightly. "Your form is all wrong." He murmured into her ear, his voice low and rough. "Let me help you."

With a firm tug, her ass was nestled against his groin as he kicked her feet wider. She could feel the hard length of him and his muscular thighs aligned behind her. The sensation caused a slow burning heat to flare, making her squeeze her thighs together to soothe the ache.

Kayla gasped as he ground into her with the guise of teaching her how to play. His hips pressed her into the table edge as he instructed, "You've got to get a good grip of that stick darlin'. Not too hard, it needs to be able to slide right through those little fingers of yours." His mouth was close to her ear, his tongue barely touching the lobe before he nipped her. "Once you got a hold of that pole well then you gotta give those balls some love baby, because motherfucking balls need love too."

A gruff laugh escaped him, as he slapped her ass and stepped away. "Go on doll, take the shot."

With his advice she missed her next shot, the ball bouncing off the bumper and in the opposite direction as she panted shallowly. Her cheeks were flushed and she could feel sweat between her breasts.

"Oooh too bad babycakes." Negan simpered, his lip pouting out obnoxiously as he gave her puppy dog eyes.

"Cheater." Kayla muttered under her breath as he laughed at her angry huffing. The man took his own shot, the solid colored ball sinking in the side pocket before the cue ball bounced off the edge and lined up his next shot. The game went on, both players getting their own shots in until there were only a few balls left on the table. Kayla could see Negan's narrowed eyes, his mouth scowling at her skill level.

"I gotta say, I was doubt-fucking-ful you knew fuck all about pool but I stand corrected." He drawled as she sunk her last ball, her sights moving to the eight ball. Kayla laughed lightly, her eyes connecting with his as she took the shot blindly. The cue slid easily through her fingers, the chalked tip propelling the black ball into the pocket. The sound of it sinking, the clacking of it hitting the remaining balls in the little net had her smiling. Negan looked more than a little pissed off but also aroused. He swaggered around the table to her side, his hand plucking the cue from her hand, before tossing it away. Swiftly she was lifted from the ground and deposited on the tabletop. Negan was climbing on top of her before she could think of refusing.

Their mouths met hungrily, Kayla swallowing down both their moans as Negan writhed against her. His large hands pinned her arms above her head as he rolled his hips between her legs hard and precise. Soon he was cupping her breasts and squeezing her ass, the man slipping into a lust filled haze.

"Mother of fuck." Negan gasped as her hands sunk into his hair and pulled hard, her teeth biting up the column of his neck.

"We shouldn't do this here." Kayal murmured while sucking on the hot flesh between his neck and shoulder. "Anyone could walk in."

"Just call me President of Don't-give-a-fuckastan because I don't give a flying monkey fucking fuck if the undead pope walks in and beats his bishop, while watching me go balls deep." Negan growled, his hand gliding up her shirt and under bra before she could blink. Kayla's mouth dropped open as his tongue and teeth joined his hand, the hot suction of his mouth on her nipple making the woman moan deeply.

They were just getting to the point of yanking each other's clothes off when the sound of voices and footsteps approached. Negan grumbled over her, yanking her shirt down to cover her breast, while glaring at the door.

"They better keep fuckin' walking because I'm banging you on this table like I've dreamed about. I'm gonna bash some fucking heads in." He growled, his hips snapping in between her thighs like a threat of what was to come. Kayla whimpered as his denim wrapped cock ground directly on her own throbbing ache.

"Yeah so I told him-." A voice halted as they entered the room to find Negan pinning Kayla on top of the pool table, his dark eyes drilling holes into the new arrivals.

"Holy shit." One man muttered, his eyes gawking at Kayla spread eagle while their leader crouched above like a predator above his kill. His sharp teeth were bared and eyes darkening by the second.

"Sorry sir." Another Savior spoke, his gaze dropping to the floor rather than face the wrath of Negan's jealousy.

"Can you not fucking tell this room is fucking occupied? I'm trying to sink some meatballs on this table you cocknosed twats." He growled as they continued to stand and stare dumbly.

"Get. Out." Negan snarled, pointing at the door as the men tripped over their feet to exit. Kayla burst into laughter as one fell over the other, both landing in a heap blocking the doorway.

"Get. Out. You Chucklefucks." Negan shouted even louder, "Jesus Christ its like the three fucking stooges up in this bitch. Go. Go. Go!"

When the door slammed shut, Kayla peered back up at Negan. He smirked at her despite the anger he'd just displayed, the man as amused at the idiots as she was.

"You think that's funny huh?" he sneered playfully, his eyes shining with mischief.

Snickering she nodded, her eyes widening as he dug his fingers into her sides, tickling her mercilessly. Squealing while laughing, Kayla tried to escape his assaulting fingers but couldn't squirm away. The only thing stopping him was her warnings about pissing her pants.

"Okay. Okay. Okay." He chuckled gruffly, rising to his knees as his hands went to her belt buckle. Kayla's eyes widened when he yanked them down her hips, to her knees as she sputtered, "W-what? W-ait."

Negan chuckled, shaking his head as he hovered over her, his large hand sunk between her thighs. "I wasn't kidding. I'm not stopping until I nail the fuck out of you to this fucking felt."

Words died in her throat as he thrummed against her, his fingers searching inside for a buried treasure. Negan stared down at her with dark eyes and parted lips, the heat from his panted breathes made her flush. He looked ravenous, his mouth slack as he watched Kayla writhe, his tongue wetting his lips hungrily.

"Oh God." She moaned, her neck arching as she threw her head back with hooded eyes. The trailing heat of Negan's wet tongue gliding between her cleavage and neck had her breath hitching.

"Oh. Baby." He crooned into her neck, "you feel how wet you are? Fucking fuck we are making a mess, doll. Everybody's gonna know how soppy you get for me." His voice was gravelly, his breath warming her skin as he panted. The weight of his hips and heady scent of his sweat had her dizzy, her head lolling to the side as his sucked her pulse with bruising force. Kayla moaned again in response, her breath leaving her as Negan's fingers curled and spread inside her.

"Fuck. Negan." She gasped, her hips rising from the table to meet his thrusts and beg for more. She wanted it fast and hard, deep and rough. Kayla couldn't help but plead, her teeth digging into her bottom lip as her thighs trembled. Curling her fingers into his forearm, she held on as he thrust, enjoying the feeling of his flexing muscles and tendons.

The nip of his teeth and filthy words of encouragement had her spilling over the edge, her body clutching at him desperately. Slamming her thighs shut, Kayla rolled her entire body while grinding into his palm. The man became wild, the snarling sound more rabid than ever before.

"Fucking A, good fucking girl. Goddamn I love when you cum." He growled, his lips sucking and biting her neck and chest. His hands drifted over ever inch in reach, his fingers stroking and tracing, never stopping for more than a few seconds.

"You are so beautiful." He murmured, sitting on his heels while looking down at her flushed face. Negan's hand smoothed her hair, tucking it behind her ear as she caught her breath. While Kayla panted, her eyes followed Negan as he climbed off the table. She squeaked when he pulled her from the flat surface and bent her over the over the edge. Negan's body pressed against her back and his wet mouth sucked her neck and ear. She heard the rattle of his belt buckle and the clatter of his knife, followed by the rasp of metal teeth as his zipper was pulled open.

"Mmm. Now I'm gonna fill you the fuck up." He growled before plunging into her from behind with one aggressive upstroke. The pressure of his fingers digging into her waist and shoulder while his hipbones pinned her into the sharp edge of the table had her groaning wantonly. Pushing in to the hilt, Negan moaned as he rolled his hips without retreating, stirring her clinging walls.

"Son of a fuck." He grunted as she clenched onto him tightly, her body refusing to let him withdraw. "Tight as shit baby. God I'm gonna unload in you too soon."

"Less talking. More fucking." She growled, reaching back to claw at his thigh while pushing back onto him. Negan sunk his hand into Kayla's hair, fisting it as his speed doubled.

"You. Are. In. Trouble, doll." He threatened while tugging her off the table and against his chest. Kayla moaned as he thrust into her brutally, his hoarse voice panting into her ear, "You feelin' me yet sweetheart? My dick touching your tonsils hmm? You tastin' me baby girl?"

The drag of his swollen head against her lips had Kayla keening like a sexual deviant. She wanted him to destroy her, fuck her until she split in two. Clutching the back of his head, she yanked his mouth to hers, both hungrily devoured the other with teeth and tongues.

"Oh god." She gasped as his ruthless hips pounded a second orgasm from her body. A choking scream escaped her mouth before Negan's hand covered her mouth, muffling the erotic sound under curled fingers. He bit her shoulder while shoving into her, a snarl vibrated against her back as he plunged as deep as he could go. She felt heat flood her insides, warmth spreading as Negan rocked lazily into her hips.

"Son of a fucking fuck." He huffed, collapsing them both onto the pool table. Kayla was gasping shallowly as Negan's weight pressed her into the hard surface. Pushing himself up on a shaky arm he snickered, raking his sweaty hair from his eyes "Sorry doll. Jesus I think I blacked the fuck out."

A breathless laugh came from her swollen lips as she slowly rose to right her clothing. "We need to get out of here before someone else wanders in."

"Fucking fuck 'em." Negan grunted, yanking her towards him with a roguish grin. "I'll enjoy my girl's pussy wherever and whenever I want."

Kayla's hands lay on top of his thudding chest, the cotton worn soft. He gazed down at her with calmer eyes and an easier smile. "You uh... you do this to get my mind off shit?"

"Yep. It work?"

"Hell yeah." He replied, wrapping his long arms around her waist and shoulders. Pinning her to his chest, Negan regarded her with soft eyes. "You're dangerous you know."

"Obviously but why do you say that?"

"Because you know me so goddamn well. It's danger-fucking-ous." He explained, kissing her softly on the lips before pulling back to whisper, "you could destroy me if you wanted."

"Good thing destroying you is the furthest thing from my mind."

"Oh yeah, what is on your mind?" he murmured, his nose brushing along her scarred jaw.

"You're dick and the king sized bed we have upstairs."

"Jesus woman give a guy some fucking recovery time. I'm no goddamn eighteen year old. My one eyed monster needs to rest sometime." Negan chortled, his eyes lively and lips pulling into a smug grin.

"Pffft." She murmured, a smirk curling her lips. "Don't lie, you're half hard already just thinking about it."

Growling into the curve of her neck, Negan threatened, "oh doll you are gonna get it."

"And you're gonna give it to me?"

"You bet your perky pink ass I am."

Read the rest here:

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12233027/20/Without-Darkness

#walking dead #negan #negans thirst squad #negan x oc #negans-network #twd #twd fanfiction #fanfiction #without darkness #excerpt #smut #pool table #jesbakescookies

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seth-figment · 6 years

Link

Pairing: Crowley/Bobby Singer Tags: Fluff Rating: T Status: Completed Words: 8,945 Chapters: 6/6

Click on Keep reading to see the first chapter. The rest of the chapters can be found on my AO3 and FF account.

Link to ff.net: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12832789/1/By-any-other-name

Summary: Bobby finds a lone hellhound puppy. Not able to kill it he cares for it instead. He tries to contact Crowley for information but he won’t show up. Until he suddenly does.