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smol-and-grumpy · 3 years

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Good Morning - Chapter 5

Coffee shop!AU

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Dean Winchester, owner of Dean’s Beans is living a humble and quiet life. Roasting beans and selling coffee in his little shop is what makes him happy. When she walked into his shop four months ago, his life changed, but is it for better or worse?

Chapter Warnings: Angst, mention of physical abuse, fluff too

WC: 2820

Beta’d by: @deanwanddamons <3

Series Masterlist ~ SPN Masterlist

Become a Patron ~ Buy me a coffee

Wednesday, September 9th

Dean’s up before the alarm. It doesn’t happen that often since the alarm goes off at 5 AM and waking up before the set alarm doesn’t feel human to him.

But this morning it happened because he laid awake the whole night. He laid awake last night too, if he’s honest. Sleep is not something that comes easily since he came back from the fishing trip with Ben and had time to be alone with his thoughts again.

He thought it would be better if he sees her on Monday, that his heart would be calmer when she walks into his shop, and sets up her little workspace Dean had promised her she could have. But that never happened. She never showed up. And it irritates the shit out of him.

Dean pushes it off as she’s probably been busy, has gotten up late, and didn’t manage to come in to grab a coffee. And that she might have forgotten that he told her she could work in his shop. It’s just— it never happened before? She never stayed away on weekdays. Not in the four months he’s served her.

So yeah, he’s worried and he’s grumpy.

The whole day went by and now it’s almost closing time. He had sent Benny home. Maybe because he had gotten on Dean’s nerves the whole day. Driving him nuts and pulling his leg because Dean’s overly grouchy. But maybe it’s also because it allows him to be alone with his thoughts without having to pretend as Benny’s rants about his girlfriend of the week. Dean’s sick of that too, not that he judges but maybe, if you don’t want to commit, then don’t? Benny’s not one who likes to be tied down, yet he always lets the girls talk him into it, only to dump them several weeks later. There had been scenes in the shop, not nice ones until Dean had had enough and told Benny to never bring a girl here ever again.

Dean doesn’t know why he’s so sullen, alright? All he knows that it has been five fucking days since she was here last. It’s crazy how hung up he is on her. It’s not really a good thing.

He switches off the lights, only leaving the one at the coffee machine still shining brightly down at him while he starts to clean it. He thumbs over his phone, searches for some tunes to rock out to while cleaning. Because that’s also what he does. He likes to sing while cleaning, which annoys the fuck out of Benny.

His fingers work swiftly on the big machine, every move is programmed into his head, every motion sits right. It’s really mechanical. He's used to it, does it every day and by now, he thinks he’s able to do it with his eyes closed. Dean whistles to the tune of the music as he does, shaking his head, and mumbling the chorus.

The art of coffee. Roasting the beans, grinding them, making coffee, cleaning the machine. It became his forte, his solace and form of therapy.

He gets pulled out of his thoughts by a knock at the door.

Dean looks back, thinking it’s the back door. Thinking that maybe Benny’s forgotten something, and Dean has left the key in the lock so the other man can’t get in. When he looks back, there’s another knock and he realizes that it doesn’t come from the back.

He turns back around, sees a shadowy figure by the glass door. It has started to get dark outside, so he can only make out a shape.

Abandoning his task, he walks towards the door, the face of the person who’s knocking is hidden by the sign hanging on his shop door.

When he gets close enough to peek over the sign, Dean’s heart damn near stops beating.

He smiles, his hands are shaking and his legs almost give out, and yet, he still manages to turn the lock and open up.

Y/N looks tired, she looks a little thin. Looks like she hasn’t eaten for a couple of days. Her hair’s up in a ponytail, the circles around her eyes are dark. She hasn’t bothered with any kind of makeup. Dean doesn’t think that she needs any anyway.

“I’m sorry, I—, I didn’t,” She says, and pulls at her too large zipped hoodie that she’s wearing against the chill of the evening.

Dean can’t help but wonder if it belongs to a man. Gets a little weird feeling deep down in his guts.

“Shit,” She mumbles, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have come, you are closing and… god, it’s stupid, I’m sorry,”

She turns around, and he knows that he has to stop her, and has the feeling that if he doesn’t, it’ll be a while until he’ll get to see her again.

So, Dean clears his throat, pushing words past his lips, “No, Y/N, wait,” He’s proud of himself for bringing anything past his lips, to be honest. Dean watches her turn back towards him and looks at him with that little frown as if she’s not sure. He grins, “Do you want a coffee?”

There’s a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips. It makes her face light up and he watches in slow motion as the smile spreads into something bigger. She exhales, tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, “Yeah,” She nods, “I’d like that. Only if it’s not too much trouble.”

How can he say that it’s the least of his troubles? How can he say that he would do so much more if it means that he gets a chance to see that smile again?

Dean doesn’t know, so all he does is shake his head, “Not at all,” He smiles back and waits for her to walk in.

Locking the door behind her, Dean follows her in further, and he notices that she’s looking at the dismantled machine.

“Oh no, you already cleaned,”

“I’m not finished,” He says and slips back behind the counter, “It’s really no trouble. Go sit, I’ll be right up,” Dean reassures her, sees her frowning at him and he has to chuckle, “Really, Y/N. It’s no big deal,”

“‘K,” She nods, bites on her lips.

He notices that there’s no gloss on it, notices a little cut too. He wonders what caused it.

As she walks further into the shop, Dean turns the music down and switches on some overhead lights. Not all of them of course. He doesn’t want to give people the impression that he’s still open, but just enough so they wouldn’t be sitting in the dark.

Dean screws the parts back to the machine with skilled fingers. He risks a glance over, sees her sitting at the same table as last time. She’s watching him too, and he feels his face warm up.

Returning to his task, Dean refills the beans and waits for the machine to warm up. When he finishes heating up the milk, he sets two mugs below it and screws the piston in. Soon, the delicious smelling black liquid pours out.

He makes her a cappuccino. Honestly, he doesn’t know if she drinks any other coffee, but he wants to find out some time.

Dean drinks his coffee black.

Carrying over the two mugs, his heart thumps a little faster the closer he gets.

“Thank you so much, you didn’t have to,” She says, her head is a little lowered. It sounds like she genuinely feels bad for stopping by.

“Really,” Dean sits down, “It’s alright, don’t worry about it.” He waves her off, takes a sip of his coffee as he watches her wrap her hands around her mug, and tips it to her lips.

Y/N closes her eyes briefly as she swallows, probably letting the taste flood her nerves and mind. It shouldn’t affect him, but it does because there’s the drumming in his chest that gets slightly faster.

“I’m sorry, really,” She apologizes again, and keeps her mug at her lips, taking another sip, “I just… you know, I… Oh my god,” She sets the mug down and rubs herself over her face, “I can’t even talk,”

Dean chuckles lightly because he knows that feeling too well.

“Okay, again,” Y/N says, after she composes herself, “I didn’t know where to go and I kind of ended up here without me even realizing it. I’m sorry, I really didn’t want to hold you up. I’ll just drink the coffee and then I’ll be out of your hair.”

“Y/N, can you do me a favor?” Dean says with a straight face and a frown that’s not actually meant to intimidate her, but he realizes after he said it that it might have because he can look very intimidating, apparently. He doesn’t agree, but people have told him so.

“Huh?” She cocks an eyebrow at him and he can see the color rise in her face.

“Please stop apologizing? I mean, it’s really okay. It’s my pleasure, I’m actually happy to see you again.”

There. He said it. Without stuttering too. Although he thinks his heart dropped to his balls for a second and is trying to climb back up.

She exhales audibly and there’s that small smile, “Thank you, I just… You must have other things to do.”

He thinks about her words. Thinks about what awaits him after he cleans the shop. Thinks about his empty apartment, his empty couch, empty bed.

“I don’t,” He says truthfully, “Are you okay?” Dean asks, he doesn’t know why he does. Perhaps, because he wants to know if she’s okay. He still remembers the last time when she took off so suddenly.

“I am now, yeah,” She answers, her fingers playing with her mug.

“Why did you say you didn’t know where to go?”

“It’s been rough.” Y/N sighs and swallows. She’s about to lift her mug, but her hoodie gets in the way and she pulls the arms of them back a little subconsciously to be able to grip the mug and that’s when he sees it. Dean can not unsee it even if he would fucking try.

The bruises. It’s a greenish-purple. Meaning that it’s healing.

Dean swallows hard, but he doesn’t say anything, waits for her to set the mug down.

When she finishes her coffee, she has noticed him staring and is about to pull the arm of the sweater back. His hand shoots out, brushes over her wrist, and Dean thinks that she’s going to swat him away but she doesn’t.

“Who did this to you?” He asks with concern in his voice.

“It’s nothing,” She mumbles.

“Y/N,” Dean starts, has to swallow hard because he wonders what other bruises he would uncover if he lets her take off her hoodie. He swallows, because it physically hurts him, it irritates the fuck out of him, too. He calms himself down, at least enough to not burst out in a fit of anger, “I can see you’re not okay. You haven’t been here since Friday.”

“You’ve noticed?” She raises her eyebrow in question.

“Yeah,” Dean chuckles, “I notice when you don’t come and get your coffee. To be honest,” Dean sighs and his heart is beating a little faster, “You’re the highlight of the day, so yeah, I notice.”

She doesn’t say anything, just dips her chin down a little, the color rises in her cheeks.

“Who did this to you?” He asks again, wondering if it the one who left her a message in all caps last time. That Chris— something. Because Dean would like to rip that guy’s lungs out. “Do you need help? Can I help in any way?” He asks, when she still doesn’t answer.

“I—, It’s…. Ugh,” She closes her eyes, “It’s my ex-boyfriend.”

Ex.

At least it’s an ex. Dean can live with that.

He doesn’t say anything. He sits there, perfectly still and waits until she speaks again because there’s no point in him getting angry, even if he would love to bash that guys head in, for sure.

“It’s nothing, Dean. It’s over now.”

“Is that why he hurt you? Because you broke off with him?”

“Not necessarily. I was late getting home on Friday.”

Fuck. It was because of him, wasn’t it?

Dean swallows down the guilt he feels, “Shit, I’m sorr—”

“—No, it’s not your fault.” She’s quick to add, “It’s my fault, too.”

“Y/N, no. Someone hurting you is never your fault, you gotta know that.”

She looks down at her hands in her lap.

“Is that why you didn’t show up? Because you wanted the bruises to heal? That’s why you came here? Because you said you didn’t know where to go?”

Dean sees one single teardrop falling from her eyes to the hand in her lap.

“Shit,” Dean gets up from his chair, walks around, and takes her hands out from her lap. He helps her up to her feet, wraps his arms around her, and lets her cry into his chest.

While he lets her cry her eyes out, he strokes her back, stroke her head, feels fucking anger towards her ex.

“Are you scared to go home?”

“Uh-huh,” She mumbles into his chest.

“Does he have a key?”

“I changed the lock,”

He feels her hand coming around his middle, hugging him back. That’s a start, right? He just wishes he wouldn’t be semi-hard just from that. It’s not the fucking right time.

“Do you want to stay here? I mean, you don’t know me, but I just want to help. My apartment’s right above the shop and I have a spare bedroom.”

Y/N pushes herself away from him and looks up. Her nose is swollen and red, her eyes too. It’s too cute.

“I can’t,” She says, “I—, I mean I can’t invade your space just because I don’t like to be alone at night.”

“What if I insist?”

“Dean, really, it’s too much.”

“Okay,” He chuckles, “What would you do if you won’t stay?”

She looks down, nibbles at her lips as she thinks, “I think I’d go to the diner close to here, they open till 2 AM.”

“The crowd there’s terrible,” Dean mumbles, he’s been in there before, nobody’s usually sober in there.

“I just have to kill some time.” She shrugs and winds herself out of his embrace. He didn’t even notice that he’s still holding her.

Dean lets his hand drop to his side, missing the feeling of her body pressed to his already, “Kill your time in my apartment,” He says, “That way I know nothing will happen to you.”

She lets him guide her up to his apartment, let him show her where her bed will be for the night, lets him show her the couch, and that he has a fridge stocked with edible things.

He excuses himself to go down and lock up his shop, finishing cleaning up his machine in record time.

When Dean comes back up, she’s splayed on his couch, the blanket pulled up to her chin. Netflix is still on, some documentaries about serial killers. He hopes she doesn’t think that he is one. She’s sleeping, and Dean really doesn’t want to wake her, but he does because there’s a perfect bed in the room, she shouldn’t be sleeping on an uncomfortable couch.

“Hey,” He kneels down, hand reaching out to shake her gently.

Y/N stirs just a little before she turns and buries her face deeper into his couch. Dean wonders how much sleep she’d had lately. It might be the safest she felt in days. Maybe, weeks. He doesn’t know, doesn’t even want to think about it because it makes him mad again.

“Hey, Y/N,” Dean tries again, waiting for a reaction.

When none is forthcoming, he decides to scoop her up and carry her to bed. Dean notices as he pulls the blanket from her body that she has stripped to her shirt. Her one forearm is bruised, as well as her upper arm. Fucker must have had a tight grip around her.

He curses to himself as he carries her over to his guest room and lays her down. Dean covers her and the shirt and strokes her hair out of her face. His finger brushes along her throat, catching the collar of her shirt. The lighting is not very good, but his eyes can’t miss the bruise along her shoulder. It goes further down too, but Dean doesn’t dare to look. Doesn’t want her waking up and think that he’s being nosy. Which he really isn’t but he’s just… so fucking mad that someone did this to her.

Goddammit.

Shaking his head, he makes his way out of the room. With a last look back, he closes the door.

Chapter 6

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#good morning #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester fic #dean winchester fan fiction #dean winchester fan fic #dean x reader #dean x you #nathalie writes

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brianc521 · 5 years

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Hickey

You sneak around the arena halls, trying to go unnoticed by the band and crew, looking for the two boys you knew would be able to help you with the idea you have.

You find them in the catering room, like you thought you would, and sit in front of them both, resting your hands on the table.

“Okay, so here’s the deal.” You start, catching both of their attentions. “Shawn thinks he’s unprankable,” You say, both of them raising an eyebrow with a sly smug smile gracing their features. “And since you decided to post the video of him scaring me on the new behind the scenes of tour vlog,” You give Connor a pointed look, “I wanna get him back. But it has to be really good.”

Brian sits up straight in his chair, locking eyes with you. “I’m one step ahead of you.” He grins, standing from his seat, motioning for the two of you to follow him away from listening ears of the crew around you.

You and Connor look at each other and shrug, standing to follow Brian out of the room.

You find yourself in a huddle with the two boys, all three spitting out ideas on how to get Shawn. Things like ‘I accidentally broke your guitar’ or ‘You leaked my nudes’ becoming frequent. Brian even going as far as to looking up other couple pranks on youtube to get ideas, and he lands on one that he can’t help but convince you to do.

“The hickey prank.” He grins, showing Connor the screen he was one.

“Yes!” Connor yelps, but then hushed as all three of you look around like you’re doing something suspicious.

“No he won’t believe it.” You shake your head.

“He will.” They boys nod.

“No, we have a strict no hickey rule.” You mumble.

“Exactly, we’ll set the whole thing up. We’re in Portland till the 13th, and it’s the 10th. Tell him you’ve gotten into contact with an old family friend and that you’re going to meet up with them for dinner, don’t say who or what gender, just say a family friend. I’ll go out with him the same night to keep him distracted.” Brian starts his plan.

“But wait, I don’t have a family friend here.”

“I know, that’s why we’ll send you with Connor here.” He pats Connor shoulder. “And you can post a picture of you and Connor, but hide his face, that way Shawn can be like ‘she’s with a guy?’ you know.”

“He’s not the jealous type.” You point out.

Brian gives you a dead look, “All boys are the jealous type when their girl is out with another dude.”

You nod, acknowledging that that’s true. “Okay so then what?”

“The next day we’ll plant a fake hickey on your neck, and have Connor say he wants to record all day, that is until after the prank you know, and wait till he notices and reacts.”

The plan sounded really good, and deep down you know Shawn would never believe it, but the two puppies in front of you were so excited and practically pouncing at your feet so you sigh, nodding and agreeing to the plan.

“Babe, I’m going out with Brian to watch the game at the arena, they’ve set it up on the big screen and everything, wanna come?” Shawn asks, slipping on a new t-shirt, freshly washed curls clinging to his forehead.

“Actually,” You bite your lip, the nerves already eating you alive. “I’m meeting up with an old family friend for dinner.”

Shawn turns and looks at you with furrowed brows. “I didn’t realize you knew anyone from Portland.”

“Well I don’t,” You drag out. “They used to be really close with my family, and moved when I was fresh out of high school.”

“Oh, okay.” He runs his fingers through his curls, pushing them back. “Want me to come? I can tell Brian I have plans.”

“No it’s okay, go watch the game. I’ll meet up with my friend, and meet you back here.” You say, fixing up your lip gloss a bit.

Brian gave you notes on how to act, what to say, and what to do.

“Oh,” Shawn watches you. “Okay, have fun then.” He turns away confused.

It wasn’t often that you turned down his offer of joining you somewhere. With the fact that he toured so much of the year, any chance you had to spend together you took greedily.

“Thanks Babe.”

He watches you slip on your heels and adjust the dress you’re wearing in the mirror. He walks up behind you, arms circling around and pulling you into his chest, chin on your shoulder.

“You look pretty.”

“Thank you. You’re pretty handsome yourself.”

“Where are you going for dinner?”

“This restaurant not far from here, my friends gonna pick me up.”

“Do they know about me?” He asks.

“No, I didn’t want them to like leak the hotel, they don’t know I have a boyfriend.”

Shawn’s eyes harden a little. “Who is it?”

“An old family friend, I don’t think I’ve ever talked to you about them.”

He doesn’t want to ask if it’s a boy or not, because he knows he has no reason to be jealous, but his gut is telling him that something is off here. He takes your left hand and nervously plays with the promise ring on your finger.

“Okay,” He pouts, “Be safe okay? Call me if you need a ride or anything?”

“Of course.” You smile at him.

Your phone buzzes and you know that’s Connor texting the ‘I’m here’ as your ride.

“I gotta go Baby.” You look at Shawn through the mirror.

He nods, letting go and watching you grab your purse and slip it over your shoulder. You lean up and leave a chaste kiss to his cheek and bolt out the door, you physically have to bite your tongue to not say ‘I love you’ like you always do.

You and Connor sit in the parking lot of a McDonald’s waiting on play by plays from Brian on how Shawn’s doing.

Shawn’s been texting you all night, but you’ve kept the responses short and sweet, sometimes not even responding at all.

“Connor, I don’t know about this. I feel bad.”

“Come on, you wanted to get him back right? Well jumping out around the corner from him isn’t gonna do it. We had to take it up a level.”

You nod, and bite your nail as Brian texts.

iMessage from Brian: He’s freaking out.

iMessage from Brian: Post the picture.

You wiggle your toes anxiously as you click over to Instagram, and post the picture you and Connor took earlier today at the arena in a safe zone that could look like you were anywhere.

His face was covered by your hand as you were pushing it in the opposite direction, big laugh and smile on your face, and most importantly his hand around your waist, gripping your left hip.

You wait and close the app, to anxious to see if he’s seen it.

iMessage from Brian: He just saw your post.

iMessage from Brian: He’s replayed it 5 times.

iMessage from Brian: He’s zoomed in on Connors hand

iMessage from Brian: He’s jealous

You waited in Connors room alone while he went out with the rest of the crew to make it seem like you were still out with your friend.

Shawn had decided to stay in and not go out, so he could wait for you. You knew he was probably pacing the length of your shared room across the hall.

It was now a little past midnight and you decide it’s time to head back over, especially because you’re tired and want to go to bed. You quietly sneak out of Connors room and tip toe back to yours, slipping the key card in the slot and walking in.

To no surprise the lights are still on and the TV is playing a rerun of One Tree Hill. You look around and don’t spot Shawn anywhere, but you hear the toilet flush and the sink water start running so you quickly take your heels off and set your purse down, and start rummaging for things to wear to bed.

He walks out of the bathroom, flipping the light off and stopping short when he sees you.

“Hey,” He says softly, taking a seat on the bed next to your suitcase that you’ve set on your side so you can dig through it.

“Hi.” You greet him.

“How was your night?” He asks.

“It was good, yours?”

“Um, it was okay.”

He watches you as you grab a tank top and shorts with a pair of lace panties. You turn and grab your lotion off the nightstand and your hair towel wrap.

“Are you taking a shower?” He asks, looking at the clock. “At midnight?”

“Yeah, I feel all gross.” You nod. “It was hotter than I was expecting and I’ve been sweating.”

His heart is racing a little. “Can I join you?”

At any other moment you would have pulled him into the bathroom with you, but to keep the act up you shake your head. “Maybe next time, I just wanna shower real quick and head to bed.”

He nods, and watches you go and shut the door to the bathroom behind you. You even go as far as to flip the lock. He grabs his phone and looks back at your story, biting his lip and bouncing his leg as he tries to figure out who you were with.

You met with Connor and Brian first thing in the morning to apply the hickey. From watching the few other hickey pranks you noticed that the ones with the most success used lipstick. So that’s what you did.

In no time you had a nice little purple bruise littered to your skin.

“It’s perfect, subtle but eye catching.”

“Good, okay.” You take a deep breath. “I’m freaking out.”

“It’s okay, once he notices it you can stop the prank at anytime.”

“Okay.” You nod.

“It’s okay Y/n, you haven’t done anything wrong. It’s all a joke.” Brian pats your shoulder.

“I know but to him it’s not yet, and he’s being really clingy and I’m like pushing him away.”

“For now, it all ends today. Promise.”

Connor focuses the camera on you so you can start the video.

“Hey guys! So as you saw Shawn scared me a week ago and I broke my phone. Well he claimed, after that, that he was unprankable. So I’ve teamed up with Brian,” Connor pans to Brian, “And Connor,” Connor waves at that lens, “And we’ve come up with a plan to prank Shawn. So last night I told Shawn that I was meeting up with an old family friend for dinner while him and Brian watched the game. In reality I sat at McDonald’s with Connor and got play by play text messages from Brian. The picture I posted with another guy was actually a picture completely posed of Connor and I, that Brian took earlier while Shawn was at rehearsals. I was super shady and have been keeping my distance from Shawn since I got back from my ‘dinner’” You motion air quotes, “And well,” You pull your hair back and reveal the fake hickey. “We’re gonna prank Shawn into thinking that someone else gave me a hickey.”

He’d gone all morning without noticing. You even put your hair up to expose of your neck even more.

It wasn’t until you were seated with the band at lunch that he saw it. You knew when he saw it too, because his eyes widened a little, and Connor had zoomed in on the two of you.

He cleared his throat, adjusted the way he was sitting and leaned closer to subtly inspect your neck. His cheeks flushed, and when you laid a hand on his thigh he brushed you off.

You made the slight signal to Brian and he nodded and worked on getting the team out of the room, Connor dropped his camera off on the desk, still filming and everyone left except you too.

The second you two were alone he spoke up.

“What is that?” He asks, pointing at your neck with his chin, voice even, jaw clenched.

“What’s what?” You play dumb, looking behind you at the camera.

“On your neck.” He bites his lip. “That’s a hickey on your neck.”

“A what.” You reach up and rub the wrong side of your neck.

“No, right there.” He reaches out and touches it. “That’s a hickey.”

He locks eyes with you, and all you can see is anger and insecurity.

“Did you give me a hickey?” You stumble over your words.

He rolls his eyes. “When the fuck would I have given you a hickey? We haven’t done anything in four days.”

You wanna laugh at the fact that he knows the exact amount of days, but don’t.

“I must have burnt myself on my flat iron this morning.” You pull away from his hand.

“Bullshit,” He spits, “That’s not a fucking burn, that’s a fucking hickey.”

“It’s not a hickey Shawn.”

“Yes the fuck it is.” His eyes flare, and it’s like it all clicks. His breathing picks up and his hands start to shake.

You’re over the prank by now.

“Shawn,” You reach for his hand before he pulls away and slides his body away from yours. “Stop.”

“Who were you with last night?” He asks, eyes flickering from your neck to your eyes. “Where did you go? Why were you gone so late?”

He’s finger combing through his curls and shaking his head.

“Oh my god, holy shit.” He looks back at your neck, really looking at it.

“Shawn,” You start but he shakes his head.

“Tell me the truth, who were you with? What friend was it?”

He was actually believing that you would cheat on him, and he was working himself up into a panic.

“Stop,” You crawl forward, planting yourself on his lap. “It’s a prank, look at me, it’s prank.”

His head snaps to look at you, eyes wide and blown out. “What?”

“Connor! Brian!” You call. “I’m calling it, prank over.”

The boys peek into the room from the hall.

Shawn looks confused as he looks around, watching Connor walk over to the desk and grab his camera.

“Oh my god,” Shawn throws his head back, “Holy shit.”

His breathing starts to even out, and he relaxes against you.

“I can’t believe you believed it.”

“You scared me!” He whines, looking at you with hooded lids. “You were being hella shady last night and this morning, and then like you’ve got a hickey.” He mumbles. “How do you have a hickey?”

“It’s lipstick.”

He licks his thumb and wipes it across your neck, looking back at his thumb that’s now a slight shade of purple.

“Oh my god,” He sighs, “Don’t do that! I was freaking out. You’re my whole life, and like, ughh!”

“How’s that for unprankable bitch?” Brian asks, laughing from the doorway.

“That was mean.” He pouts looking up at you. “Don’t do that! Fucking, pants me in public or something, but don’t do that.”

“I’m sorry, they convinced me too.”

“I almost took your promise ring.” He whispers, thumbing with it.

You gasp and rip your hand back. “You will do no such thing.”

“What do you expect, I thought-”

“I know,” You dig your hands into his curls. “But I would never, you know that.”

He takes a deep breath and rests his forehead against yours.

Connor walks around and focuses on your face.

“Well you saw it here folks, Shawn Mendes isn’t as unprankable as he thought he was.” You say to the camera, getting Shawn to look up.

“Oh Baby, you don’t even know what you started.” He grins, looking at you to the camera. “Stay tuned.”

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backandimbamon · 4 years

Text

part I

Before, Damon thinks it’s okay because there’s really no plausible reason to stop Bonnie from drinking another tequila; she’s having fun at this party plus he has never seen her drunk so it gives him a pretty valid pass to say what the hell, what could go wrong?

He’s got a Hawkeye out anyway, making sure she won’t have any Britney moments in her tiny dress or no horny dickhead lays a finger anywhere near her. He’s feeling like the proper bodyguard, way more handsome than Kevin Costner could ever dream of, and his little Whitney Houston is perfectly under his control.

The first notion that maybe Bodyguard Damon did not have drunk Witchy Houston in control occurs when she kisses Caroline. Sloppily. But Caroline is in a slightly better state than she is, which doesn’t say much, so they both laugh it off like it’s just a friendly shoulder to shoulder hug. Now his curiosity is peaked as to what activities they partake in at their slumber parties. He smirks.

Then she approaches him, eyes glittering with mischief and (anger?) as she pokes a finger in the bridge of his chest and says, “You. Dance with me. Now.”

There’s no slurring or anything so she can’t be that messed up, he finds her little antics amusing. “Woah witchy, slow down on the tequila. It’s making you a bully.”

“It makes me wanna fight.”

She stares him in the eyes with her brows set low like she nominates him to be her punching bag.

“So you were fighting Caroline just now?”

“What?”

“That make out session?”

“Really Damon, you blow everything out of portion.”

“Everything out of proportions, Judgey. You’re clearly not smarter than a fifth grader.”

She sends another thump to his chest, right in the center and frowns. “Shut up.”

Truly, he thinks she’s adorable.

And yes, she must be extremely tipsy because he’s never really seen Bonnie dance before outside of the Slow Dance Side Step or a casual sway to mid tempo music but now he’s watching her dip it low, and swing her hair to a r&b artist singing runs about her body. And he can’t look away.

Baby, I’m talking crazy I,

Need you right in my space, for now

Need it, baby I’m late, but I

Still can check in with you

“I loveeee this song,” she draws out and grabs Damon’s wrist to come closer to her. He doesn’t put up much of a fight. Not because he enjoys it or anything, he just doesn’t want to harm little witchy.

He’s shocked because he never realized she could be so sensual, the lights are purple and she’s staring him directly in the eyes with this look of freedom that makes him wonder what chamber of secrets she keeps locked in her closet of skeletons. She turns around, back facing him and intertwines her hands with his, winds her waist in the seat of his pants and he knows for a fact that his cheeks are aflame. He’s never been this tense in his life, it’s almost like he’s been staked- Bonnie is dancing on him and he’s letting her because his mind is allowing him to think that she’s really, really, realllly sexy in this moment. What the hell.

The realization is a whisper in his mind; to admit to himself that he’s been hit with a heavy wind of attraction towards Bonnie leaves him feeling a pang of something uncomfortable in his stomach. Like he’s betrayed himself, searching for something in someone else that was always blatantly there in her.

“My mind, my mind and my body,” Bonnie soulfully sings along, breaking his concentration. “My mind, my mind and my heart.”

She faces him again, grinning and finger combing the wildness out of her hair. He watches her watch him as she pulls him close until they are chest to chest, tilts her chin up and braces herself on her tip toes, to say into his ear “You’re like this irresistible, ancient, hot vampire who can’t dance.”

He’s taken aback, one because of the compliments and two because of the insults. Plus, he’s still stuck in the trance she’s placed him in and he begs to differ because he can dance, he’s just not trying to now.

“Yes I can.” He can’t take the defense out of it even if he tried.

She gives him space again to throw her arms up to the music, obviously not interested in hearing his rebuttal. Her skin is dewy from her body heat as she comes back to him, and holds on to his back as she continues to sing along.

I don’t know what it it

I can’t tell you what it is

But you got me going crazy,

Sex with you is so amazing,

Her heartbeat is at this lazy languid pace, he can feel it pulsing against him, as she hums her way through the next line of the song and he pretends that there isn’t this nervousness that’s crawling on his shoulder from being this close to Bonnie while she’s in an unpredictable state. She’s already intensely touchy feely and it’s a tad unsettling. His prime role is Space Invader yet here she is. Draped over and around him like a careless scarf.

He can sense her body weight growing heavier, guessing a sleepiness must be washing over her as she barely muffles a yawn.

“I like you a lot, Damon,” her voice is heavy, lips brushing against the shell of his ear.

He hates himself for feeling something bubbling up and settling over him. In his being is this deep satisfaction that Bonnie is seeing him through a lens she would never admit to out loud under nearly any circumstance. He knows he is an attractive guy, and he knows women are aware by the way they vie for his attention when they sense his presence but Bonnie is different. There are countless times he feels the witch bite back on a compliment.

Tonight, however she’s delivering heady flirtation and admittedly, he’s giddy. It makes him feel victorious even if she is a little tipsy and tired.

She bats her eyelashes and once again he finds himself stranded in the hazy focus of her green eyes.

“God, you’re so pretty. Take me home, pretty boy.” she says, and he is quick to comply.

The drive to Bonnie’s dorm is quiet, he thinks she’s asleep but when he looks over there’s a pensiveness in her expression as she observes the passing street from the window.

“You okay?”

She nods, then nestles into the seat. Her eyes trace his scarily stunning features subconsciously and she admires the way his short hair cut complements his bone structure so well.

“I like your hair when it’s like this,” she hums. Her fingertips race through his scalp and he nearly swerves.

“Are you okay?” Bonnie echoes in response to his jerkiness.

He almost rudely says “Of course, witchy.”

“Sheesh, you pretty much gave me whiplash yet somehow you’re upset.”

“I’m not upset.” He replies flat-toned.

“I should be the mad one, I wanted to leave here with someone who could put me to bed in an entirely different way.” She smooths a fingertip over her bottom lip.

“And what way is that?” His brow lifts and it reminds her of a see-saw.

“In a way a friend can’t.”

A challenge drifts like smoke in the vehicle, then decidedly settles in their clothes and hair. The suggestion in Bonnie’s voice and demeanor leaves him feeling something he doesn’t want to admit to himself.

He can’t leave it alone. The metaphoric mic has dropped and Damon must pick it up because he wouldn’t be himself if he didn’t.

“But I’m your best friend.”

A vision of him pinning her up against the walls comes so intrusively that it’s stuck. It sits on his guilty conscience like water trapped in the ear.

“And? So is Caroline.”

“You made out with her tonight.”

“Now it’s your turn?”

Damon’s eyes are stuck between the glowing dividers in the road as he shakes off her words dismissively. Sober Bonnie wouldn’t push a subject like that, wouldn’t bait him into saying the thing that’s lying under his tongue.

He deflects with humor. “Maybe I’m jealous.” But he says it like it’s the most unbelievable statement in the world.

Lapis eyes on emerald.

“Maybe you are.” With a finality more conclusive than a period.

He’s in the middle of parking when she shuffles around in her seat, brings her face to the side of his and pecks his jaw.

Just like that, a press of warm lips on cold skin. He has no time to react.

And even after he parks, he looks ahead, unable to make eye contact. She doesn’t even move back to her seat, just hovers like a cloud, lashes swiping his cheek, before leaning in again and lightly biting the side of his neck. Her magic is there, inside him, in that spot.

He makes a sound so pained with want that he wishes someone could cuff his hands behind his back so he can do nothing but exist.

Such a small gesture of lips and teeth is like cutting into the thick cake of their bottomless sexual tension and serving it on a platter to the starved. Her scent alone consumes the space in his car with agave and alcohol. The natural smell of her lotion. The fruity smell of her lip gloss on his neck, right where that bite mark isn’t disappearing.

Nice to breathe you, Bonnie.

She is everywhere and not and he is just there, wrestling with the alternative parts of himself. The parts that would totally take advantage of a moment like this. Eat her alive or sex her to death?

He shakes his head like it could rid him of his nature. It somewhat helps. “Bonnie.”

Said cautiously because if that bottomless cake isn’t removed in enough time, the hungry man will tear in savagely, bread crumbs clinging to lip, icing boiling in stomach acid.

She snaps back in her seat like a taut rubber band. Very quiet.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have.” It’s a mechanical response.

He’s too busy wrestling his mind to respond. Damon cannot trust himself to think.

He ends up in her dorm because she needs him; she’s wobbling when she walks and it’s dire that he’s with her so no filthy predator assaults her. She needs him in her presence because her steps are wobbly, she honestly could fall down the stairs and die at any moment so he trails after her like a curtain blowing in the breeze. One cautionary arm outstretched and wrapped safely around her waist. She’ll thank him in the morning.

Bonnie looks like a tiny ballerina, as she plops on her bed, then stretches. Her limbs lengthen but his eyes are trapped in the half dome of her back arch. They slide down curvy brown legs to pointed toes that accuse him, the intruder, who is still standing and tense. She finishes her lazy stretch with a roll of her shoulders, one strap of her dress slips down.

“Hey,”

“Hey.”

“I’m sorry about what happened.. in the car.”

He sits next to her. “Oh that thing? Don’t worry about it, Bon Bon.”

“Yeah. I’m a little-“

“Drunk? No way!”

“Tipsy, Damon. And I get kinda. You know.”

His brows stitch in mock confusion. “Kinda...?”

“Damon.”

“What? I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“You’re such a child,”

“Says the one who can’t say h-huh-hor-“

“Stop, Damon,” She nudges his shoulder and tries to fight the laugh from creeping up her throat. She poorly executes a pout. “Seriously. It’s been a really long time.”

“I’m celibate until Elena wakes up. I’m sure you’ll get laid before you’re an old cat lady.”

“We both know your sex ventures make mine look juvenile.”

“Jeremy is juvenile in general.”

She swats him.

“Can’t you like magical-woo-woo yourself into an orgasm?”

“It’s not better than the real thing.”

Damon is fighting so much suggestive imagery floating around in his mind of Bonnie and The Real Thing.

“You still have time.”

“But what if I die next year?”

“You won’t.” His expression hardens.

“Damon, you don’t know that.”

“I know I won’t let anything happen to you.”

“You don’t get it. It’s like Caroline gets to do whatever she wants, Elena was able to do whatever she wanted. They are both free in ways I’ve never experienced. I’m Bonnie. Just Bonnie. My magic is the only thing that I feel a deep soul-tying connection to, but I can barely call that mine. I want to be desired and worshipped and I want to explore.”

“Then do it.”

“I can’t!”

“And why the hell not?”

“Because you, Stefan, Caroline, Alaric, Tyler, Joe, Kai, Klaus, Elijah, Katherine, you’re all my life! Both living and dead, Damon. Elena is my life!”

Silence.

“There is no room for me, my love life, my orgasms, my magic. My mother, my father, my gram-“ She frantically swipes at the tears trailing her visage. “All of that is gone. It was taken away from me.” Her voice shudders with emotion and Damon Salvatore feels like shit. She buries her face in her small hands and cries.

There’s a new feeling of guilt creeping up his shoulder. Nothing can rid him of the filth he feels now, the years he’s allowed himself and others to use his best friend without thinking twice. Forcing her power unto them like it was communal. She, of all people, did not deserve that. Not one bit. The space where she bit him burns.

“Damnit, Bon.” He scoops her up in his lap carefully because of her short dress and slides the strap that had fallen back up. His hand rubs her back lightly for comfort.

Bonnie Bennett is here, crying in his arms and he can do or say nothing because he is part of the problem. He cradles her and toes his shoes off because he will not leave her here alone.

a/n : i am very very excited to see where this story leads me (:

#bonnie bennett #damon salvatore #fanfic #bamonff #bamon #bamon fan fic #tvd #otp #tvd ff #tvd fanfic #damon x bonnie #bonnie x damon

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lownctes · 4 years

Photo

♚◞ 𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐤𝐥𝐲 𝐯𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐨 𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐫𝐲 *&&. 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲𝐥𝐨𝐧 𝐫𝐡𝐞𝐞 : 𝟎𝟎𝟑.

baby's presence on camera , answering the questions for the weekly video diary , is the exact opposite of the stage presence he is known for back home . covered in glitter and gold , BABYLON is full of confidence , soaked in apathy , decorated in an ❛ i don’t give a fuck ❜ attitude . baby , though ? well , baby is actively avoiding eye contact with the lens , nervously biting at his nails until his fingers bleed --- baby’s camera presence is drenched in anxiety .

𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: mentions of abusive relationships , anxiety , & blood .

𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬: @miinkyuu , @rowantm .

◞ 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐝𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐩𝐥𝐞 ? 𝐰𝐡𝐲 𝐝𝐢𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐝 ?

❝ ah . ❞ a tattooed hand comes up to touch the back of his neck , fingers splaying over the lotus flower that is tattooed there . his nose scrunches up , doe - eyes crinkling slightly in a fit of embarrassment . ❝ i feel good . fine . i don’t know . minkyu is a literal doll . the sweetest person in the world , absolutely beautiful --- he could capture anyone’s heart with just a look , you know ? and i know he was --- is a fan of me as an idol . a fan of BABYLON . that’s not why i chose him , though . i chose him because he just . . . felt comfortable . to be around , i mean . i’d been kind of . . . anxious ? since the start of this whole thing , considering the fact that i was kind of --- no offense to the show --- forced to come here , but talking to him that first night at the , um , the monte carlo party thing ? it was nice . i didn’t feel . . . pressured at all . now that i know he’s a fan , of course , it’s a bit . . . a bit more tricky . . . ❞ he tilts his head , golden tips of hair falling in front of his eyes . ❝ i don’t want to disappoint him . to destroy the magic behind BABYLON , you know ? i’m not --- exactly sure what he’s expecting , though , so i’m not sure if i can live up to it . i don’t know . i just don’t want to disappoint him , hurt him . sounds a bit silly now that i’m saying it out loud , but . . . ❞ a shrug falls from his shoulders and his gaze shifts , again , from the camera , before he moves on altogether .

◞ 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐞𝐥𝐬𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐯𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐚 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝’𝐯𝐞 𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐰𝐢𝐬𝐞 ? ( 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐚𝐬 𝐚 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝 )

❝ no . ❞ the answer is quick , abrupt . for the first time since he’s started recording , he speaks with the confidence that he is so infamous for . then , he pauses , gaze flickering from the back of his own tattooed hands to the camera’s red recording light . his abused bottom lip is drawn between his teeth and he chews momentarily in a fit of nervousness . ❝ i don’t know . i don’t think so . ❞ he’s silent for a moment , hands coming up to touch the top of his ears --- a nervous habit of his . ❝ i don’t want to say no . that sounds --- so committal , even though it’s really not in regards to the question , but it still --- it’s a bit early for . . . ❞ he shakes his head , waving his hand at himself to quickly dismiss his rambling . ❝ i don’t know . i don’t think so , ❞ he repeats , ❝ but --- what do i know ? this shit isn’t really my . . . expertise . ❞ and he leaves it at that .

◞ 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐯𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐚 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 ?

❝ rowan . ❞ it’s flat , quick . there’s no hesitation to it and no nervousness that paints pretty features to follow . he’s confident , absolutely certain . ❝ he likes to make assumptions based on nothing , likes to pick fights that aren’t there simply because someone isn’t so absolutely enthralled with this show as he seems to be . forgive me for being wary when i was forced to come here in the first place . not all of us chose to be here , and just because i’m not overflowing with excitement about being here doesn’t make me a narcissist any more than he is . ❞

◞ 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 ?

the silence that washes over him is heavy , like a weight hanging over his head as glitter - smudged eyes simply blink and stare into absolute nothingness . he’s pulled back to the question only by the red recording light blinking incessantly amidst his blurred view . ❝ it was . . . nothing pretty . ❞ he pauses , isn’t sure where to take it from here . ❝ he always held my wrist , never my hand . pretty purple --- flowers bloomed on my skin like i was a fucking garden . i had to cut my hair because when it was longer , his fist could tangle in it so easily . ❞ golden , contact - coloured eyes flicker to the lens of the camera . ❝ and i would still be the one to comfort him at the end of the day as he cried into my fucking shoulder , tears diluting my blood , and had the audacity to ask me why i made him do that , why i made him --- hurt me . ❞ hands ball into fists and a shaky sigh spills from perfectly glossed lips and into the warm air . ❝ long story short ? i was a pretty little flowerbed for him to beat rotten seeds into . i let him grow pretty purple flowers all over my skin , watered with anger and jealousy . and i became his own personal garden of his own design . ❞ spoken like a true gothic romantic , a true poet , a songwriter . then , of course --- ❝ i was a fucking idiot for sticking around , and i hope he rots in hell . ❞

◞ 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭’𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐥 𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐞 ?

he’s thankful for the simplicity of this question , and the answer slips from his tongue like water slips from any flat surface --- with ease and without resistance . ❝ something simple . i’ve been on too many fancy dates , not all of them have ended in disaster , but quite a few of them have . ❞ he lets himself laugh , it’s breathy and barely audible , but bunny teeth are on display briefly and his nose scrunches slightly . ❝ i think i’d like to stay in . watch their favourite movie , listen to music , maybe i’d try to play their favourite song on guitar or piano . if they have tattoos , i’d colour them in with markers if they’d let me . i’d ask them to play with my hair , tell them to read to me , maybe i’d ask their opinion on a song or two . just . . . ❞ he shrugs , hand coming up to nervously scratch behind his ear . ❝ something simple , comfortable . something that won’t trigger the anxiety and make me feel like i have to be golden and glimmering and perfect . there’s beauty in simplicity . poems for the small things . ❞

#villa.task #♚◞ 𝐪&𝐚. » babylon rhee. ˎˊ˗#me . . . titling it as 003 bc it's the 3rd one .#even tho i hav not done . . . any of the others . . .#don't mind meKSJHDKJ #but look at me ! out here ! doin stuff ! :')#i hope . it's still okay to post thisKSJHDKJ #also aly & rowan . . . i'm so sorry for baby's messy assMNBMC #don't mind him . he's jus a stubborn brat babie .#also . tumblr ate the quality of this gif UP . . .#i promise i know how 2 make gifs .#tumblr jus hates me sighs !

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ervtwrites-blog · 7 years

Text

Red - Part 13

Part 1 - Previous: Part 12 - Next: Part 14

[Note: I’m not sorry one bit. You’re welcome. Tagging @elaacreditava, @dreamingoffandomscenarios, @bookwarm85, @pathybo, @ariwolff14, and @yourdarksunleavesmecold as requested!]

Rated: M for Mature (it’s downright shameful). Enjoy! <3

________________________________

Lyanna zipped up the back of Aurora’s new dress and whistled in admiration when she turned around. The thin material clung to her hips and thighs snugly, showing off the fine lean muscle she had developed over the past few months. Though Aurora didn’t have much to speak of in the way of breasts, the sewn in padding gave the illusion of a heavier bust and the collar of the dress dipped down far enough to show the line of her breasts.

“Hot damn mama. One thing is for sure, wherever we go tonight, the party is coming to you.”

Aurora laughed at Lyanna’s ridiculous compliments and set to work with the makeup she allowed Aurora to borrow. When her eyelids were heavily shadowed and the wings of her eyeliner sharp enough, she tussled up her hair and pouted into the mirror.

“I think I’m ready now.”

Lyanna wagged her finger. “Not yet you’re not! You’ve got everything but the finishing touch.” She popped the cap off of a brand new tube of lipstick and swathed Aurora’s lips in the bold color. It was a berry mix that was too purple to be red, but too red to be considered anything else. It matched Aurora’s mane of crimson hair almost perfectly and brought the green color of her eyes into a sharper focus.

Lyanna quickly changed into a tight black dress with a wide v neck and pulled her blonde hair back into a ruffled updo. She pencilled in some heavy black liner, a thin layer of shiny lip gloss, and the two were ready.

Jaime was planning to meet them at the party they had been invited to. Aurora didn’t know the hosts personally, but Jaime and Lyanna did. An entire apartment floor had been turned into a party house by the tenants. There was supposed to be an all-you-can-drink selection of alcohol and every genre of music. It sounded like half the compound would be in attendance, and Aurora thought it would be the perfect chance to have a little fun and forget about the daunting training and mission to come.

And especially to forget about Eric’s smug face.

……………

Aurora was on her sixth shot of vodka. The music around her pumped and boomed and purred, and there was a continuous flow of lean, fit bodies clad in shorts, skirts, dresses, and tight black clothes. The air was heavy with smoke and sharp with the scent of tequila and vodka. Wherever Aurora looked, someone had a plastic cup, a cigarette, or a joint in their hands.

“Hey, ‘Rory!” Aurora turned sluggishly at her name and Lyanna stumbled towards her. One arm was around Rick’s neck, dragging him along with her. The other hand balanced a red plastic cup and a half-smoked cigarette.

“This’s Rick!” Lyanna shouted over the wave of music and Aurora clumsily stooped into a sloppy curtsy in front of him, bowing her head as regally as she could manage. Lyanna laughed out loud at that.

“Nice to meet you,” Rick smiled down at Aurora then pulled something out of his front pants pocket. Whatever it was, it was wrapped in a clear piece of plastic.

“You want some?” He reached out to hand it to Aurora and she opened her hand automatically to take it. It was a small pink-colored tablet with a butterfly stamped on it. Aurora squinted her eyes and brought it up to her face so she could see it clearly.

“What is’t?” She shouted back.

Rick and Lyanna both laughed, the latter pulling her boyfriend into a clumsy hug and kissing his neck sloppily. Rick grinned at Aurora, “Take it and find out!”

With a shrug, Aurora popped it into the back of her mouth and borrowed Lyanna’s beer to wash it down. Might as well.

Sometime while Aurora was dancing and weaving through the crowd, the effects of the pill began to creep up on her. At first her heart rate increased and she felt nervous, but that was quelled with another shot, this time of tequila. She found that she was enjoying the music more with each passing song, and each person she danced with showed her so much affection. One girl kissed her on the cheek when the song was over and mumbled something in her ear she couldn’t quite make out. Another girl, a tall skinny brunette with dangling earrings, led Aurora through the apartments by the hand, showing her to the better spots where they could dance more freely and were offered better drinks.

Aurora knew her name was Katie, and she was four years older than she was, though Aurora didn’t recall if the girl had introduced herself or what she had been saying. While Katie tipped back a shot and screwed up her mouth at it, Aurora leaned against the drywall. Her hair was sticking to her neck, and she bunched it in her fist to lift it up so she could fan herself properly with her hands.

“Oh, here!” Katie tugged a hair tie off her wrist and shoved it at Aurora, who snatched it up gratefully.

“God you’re so amazing.” Did Aurora say that? She felt the words scrape her throat on the way out but she hadn’t planned on saying anything.

Suddenly Katie’s head snapped up and she stared past Aurora and her expression turned gravely serious. “God. He is so damn attractive.”

Aurora turned around to see who she was talking about, and her unsteady gaze fell on Eric. He was drinking from his own plastic cup and when his eyes met hers, he winked at her.

Aurora’s face should have started burning and she should have turned away, but instead she found herself bursting into a fit of giggles that showed her straight white teeth. She couldn’t tell for sure, but she thought Eric hid a smile with another tip of his cup.

“Yeah but he knowsheeisss!”

Katie elbowed Aurora playfully. “What else do you think he knows about?”

Aurora couldn’t explain the burst of inappropriate images that suddenly sprang into the front of her mind or why she wasn’t both ashamed and revolted at herself for entertaining them. The alcohol, surely.

“Oh I bet he knowsss’how to do a lotta things,” Aurora nodded appreciatively and took another shot from Katie. How many was that now? She lost count. Her head was both swimming and buzzing but she didn’t care.

Katie froze beside her and when Aurora looked up again, Eric was walking over.

“Ohh ssshit.”

“Hey Eric. What’s up?” Katie tried to act cool but Aurora caught the way her fingers twitched nervously and her cheeks flushed a rosy pink color. She seemed like a schoolgirl who had her first crush. On Eric of all people!

“Haaa ha. You’re cute,” Aurora sputtered at her, and Katie at first looked horrified, then her blush deepened considerably. She ducked her head at Aurora shyly.

“What are you drinking?” Eric asked, ignoring Katie all together and fixing Aurora with an even stare.

Aurora held up her now empty shot glass and shrugged. “Uhh vodka? And Tequila? Sssomething, whatever I get. I don’t know.” Her words spilled out of her mouth so quickly, when she thought back, she couldn’t even recall what exactly she said. Her eyebrows knitted as she tried to concentrate.

Eric’s brows arched. “You’re a regular party animal.”

Aurora snorted and started laughing again. Why was he so funny? Eric was never funny. What a joker he was. Katie eyed her a little weirdly and spoke up again to move the conversation away from Aurora.

“How long have you been here, Eric? Are you leaving any time soon?” The hopeful shine in her eyes was just too much and Aurora found herself once again blurting out the first thing she thought of with no grace to speak of.

“You mean, ‘is he taking anyone home’?” Aurora grinned slyly and chucked Katie’s arm with her knuckles. “Juss’ tell him you wanna bone’em, I’m sure e’ll be down.” She jerked her head back towards Eric with a hiccup. His eyes were wide in surprise.

Katie’s mouth fell open, and her face burned red, but no sounds came out. Aurora realized what she said too late and began backpedaling to try and take it back, but Katie was already turning away from her with a scowl.

Aurora felt bad for that.

“How much have you had to drink?” Eric’s voice shouted into her ear.

Aurora shrugged again. “Dunno. Ten? ‘Leven?”

Eric rolled his eyes as Aurora swayed on her feet and leaned back against the wall again. She suddenly remembered the hair tie Katie had given her. “Oh no! I need’ta give thisss back.” She fingered clumsily at her hair and managed to free it with a yank that made her wince even though she didn’t feel it.

Eric took her hand and started dragging her away. “Come on, you should get some fresh air.”

Aurora wanted to resist at first, but she was far too disoriented and her mind was sluggish. Eric was leading her away.

Eric. Was leading. Her away.

“Are you taking me home with you?” The thought was ridiculous and it sounded worse out in the open.

Eric chuckled and shook his head. “If I knew drunk Aurora would be so willing, I would have let you finish that whiskey in the cafeteria.”

Aurora squinted her eyes, trying to make sense of what he was saying. She vaguely remembered bits of a memory about sitting with him in the middle of the night with a stolen bottle, but it was too difficult right now to summon it.

“Soooo you are,” Aurora squeaked as her feet caught on a stair, and if he didn’t suddenly catch her, she would have went sprawling face first onto the floor.

He swung her easily up into his arms with one supporting the backs of her legs and the other cradling her shoulders.

“Oh. Wow.”

“Stop talking, Aurora.” Eric’s voice was hard but his expression wasn’t. She thought maybe he just always sounded like that. Mean ol’ Eric.

Ericssshhhmerik.

The corridors passed by too quickly and in a jumble. Aurora didn’t know how many right turns or left turns they had taken. She mumbled something unintelligible every now and again but for the most part kept quiet. Eric carried her effortlessly, as though she weren’t a staggering drunk girl who’s head was constantly lolling into his chest.

He finally came to a stop in front of a hall of apartment doors and fumbled for a key in his pocket.

Aurora gawked.

“You are bringing me home! To your apartment! Eric’s’partment!” She hiccuped and kicked uselessly to try and break free of his arms but it had as much use as writhing against a steel cage.

“Stop being ridiculous. You’re totally shitfaced. What else am I going to do, leave you to either suffocate in your own vomit or end up with a guy you don’t know in a bedroom you don’t remember?” He kicked the door open and stepped inside.

It was totally dark, but he made his way in without any problems at all. Aurora wondered if he often came home in the middle of the night to a dark home.

“I didn’t know Eric whassyourface cared at all. I thought you probably lived in a bridge or under a cave,” she slurred. He set her down and went to cut on the lights.

She squinted as the room was flooded with a soft yellow glow from the ceiling light above. She looked around and felt a faint tingle of shock at standing in the middle of his bedroom. She stood mere feet from the foot of the full sized bed, with its clean white sheets and fluffy black-encased pillows. The carpet was a creamy off white, and a dark wooden shelf matched the dark, glossy wooden frame of the bed. There wasn’t much in the way of furnishings apart from those and a nightstand and drawers.

“Dooo you spend a lot’a time in’ere?” Another hiccup.

Eric smirked and tossed his keys onto the nightstand and shrugged off his jacket. He kicked off his boots and tossed them into the corner.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Without thinking about it, Aurora plopped down onto his bed and mimicked him, bending over to pull off the heels Lyanna had let her borrow to match her dress. She was clumsy and it took her far more effort than it should have to remain upright for the task. All she knew was that beds weren’t proper places for shoes.

“Here,” Eric knelt down in front of her and reached for the tiny heels. “Before you give yourself a concussion or something.” He took hold of her calf and gently slipped them off and set them out of the way.

His hand on her calf.

Hands on her legs.

Ericshandsonherlegs.

In her drunken haze, and perhaps spurred on by the giddy effects of the pill she had taken from Rick, Aurora allowed herself to venture into definitely not thoughts. His hands were warm against her flushed skin. He was only a few inches away. She peered down her nose at the strong edge of his jaw and the bold black tattoos on his neck. Where did those tattoos end up? He was handsome. She had always been so on edge before, she never really truly looked at him. But now she could see the hard sculpt of muscle beneath his shirt and the broad expanse of his chest.

“One time.”

Eric’s head jerked up and she saw that his eyes were bright and partly unfocused. Had he been thinking the same things?

“What?” He asked hesitantly.

Aurora rolled her eyes at him as though it was completely obvious what she was talking about. “Kiss me. One time. And if I don’t like it-” she ended it with a shrug.

Eric sat back on the heels of his feet. “Okay. Now I know how drunk you are.”

Aurora shook her head stubbornly. “Yes’I am drunk. But I know what I’m doin’.” She jabbed a finger into her chest.

Eric just knelt there staring at her as though trying to decide whether or not to believe her. The longer he waited, the more she became aware of the way her heart thumped and her skin tingled nervously. If he had waited any longer, she would have turned chicken and changed her mind. Even the alcohol mixed with the drugs was not enough to make her infinitely brave. It was only enough to make her do the things she couldn’t bring herself to while sober.

Eric leaned forward slowly, testing the waters and her resolve. His face was matched height to hers, and when he was only a few inches away, he stopped and his blue eyes searched her green. She could feel his warm breath fanning her face and she closed her eyes to inhale the scent of him, spiced by whatever he had been drinking. Her lips parted naturally, instinctively, and he decided she was being serious after all.

This time was nothing like when he had kissed her in his office. He had been invasive and rushed then, and this time he was softer than Aurora ever imagined he could be. He took his time.

One hand wound through her hair and tightened at the roots. It wasn’t quite painful, but the tug on her scalp caused her to suck in a breath and when her mouth naturally opened, he took slow advantage of it with his tongue. She tasted sweet, but there was a sharp edge of liquor on her lips.

The burning warmth of his skin mingled with the blood coursing through her veins, and despite the numb cloud of alcohol, Aurora was suddenly very aware of every inch of her own body, and every inch of his as he leaned forward. Already perched between her knees, his other hand came to push down on her shoulder, firmly but gently guiding her back onto the bed. As though she could keep her balance anyways. But she allowed him to, and while she panted for breath against his lips, he lowered his weight on top of her and shifted his hips to give himself better access to her.

A very small, faint voice asked her why she was doing this now when she had rejected him so firmly before. Had she just not been brave enough? Had she been scared of him, or of herself? He wasn’t as nice as Four was, but damn if he wasn’t making her tingle between her legs.

Eric’s right hand remained knotted in her hair to hold her in place beneath him, and the other was unyielding as it began to roam her body. First his fingers brushed the edge of her collarbone, the gentle swoop of her neck as it met her shoulder, the outward curve of her breast. He was gentle enough, but Aurora could feel his muscles tensed and coiled as though it were taking some great strength to keep his movements soft. Where his hands led, her skin burned fiery hot in his wake.

He deepened the kiss, eliciting a breathy whimper from Aurora. Without thinking about it, maybe even without meaning to, she reached up to tangle her fingers through his hair. She had to pull away soon, had to breathe, but he didn’t allow her skin to leave his lips. Instead, he did as he had done the morning in his office and nipped at the edge of her jaw, her earlobe, the velvet soft skin of her throat. He wanted to mark her, wanted her to have faint purple bruises in the morning. It was indeed taking a lot of restraint not to draw blood.

“You’re making such sweet little noises,” he breathed. Aurora hadn’t been aware she was making any sound at all, and she felt heat creep up her neck and cheeks. Now wasn’t the time to feel self conscious, but she felt herself trying to draw back into the safe nest of the pillows.

Eric wouldn’t have that though.

When she wriggled upwards towards the top of the bed, he went with her. It was the perfect opening to give him complete and total access to her as her legs widened to shift her body up, and he pressed down hard with his hips.

Aurora gasped at the feeling of him firm against her. He was becoming more rushed as everything intensified tenfold, and the soft grip he had on her body turned increasingly possessive. She could feel his fingertips pressing into her skin, his teeth grazing against her, hips rocking forward into her. Whatever control he was struggling to maintain, it was slipping. When she wrapped her legs around his waist and shifted her hips forward to center him, he groaned with a noise that was almost strangled.

Aurora’s eyes were shut so tight and behind her lids, she was seeing bursts of white hot light. It was all around her just like he was. Her lips felt bruised, but there was a churning burn right there! and she couldn’t stop herself from chasing after it and rolling her hips against him to create more friction. She was using him to increase that deliciously deep sensation that was trailing a path up into her stomach.

“Aurora,” he groaned. It was something like a warning. Barely restraining himself now. But she was getting so much close.

Sucking in breath through her teeth now, Aurora tightened the muscles in her thighs, forcing him still impossibly closer- when she ground her hips this time, he grabbed them roughly and met her halfway with a growl. Sparks felt like they were shooting through her. She was too far gone to stop. The alcohol was allowing her to edge closer than she had ever imagined herself doing before.

God, he had never thought she would do something like this. Fucking using him to get herself off. His fingers weren’t even inside of her, it was just the goddamn friction. He had no qualms with letting her finish, but if she pushed against him one more time, he wouldn’t be able to stop himself. He was lined up perfectly, all he had to do was hike up the hem of her dress, rip her fucking underwear to shreds, and he knew he could have had his buckle undone in seconds. But Eric didn’t want to fuck a drunk girl, especially not if that drunk girl was Aurora. He wanted her to remember every single thing come morning, wanted her to have the sensations of him moving inside her and covering her permanently singed into her skin. No, he couldn’t allow a victory like that to be hampered by whatever the hell she had been drinking. Eric had just enough sense left to marvel at the effects of tequila on the human brain.

Obviously she was too drunk now to even realize what she was doing.

“You have to stop.”

Aurora only tightened her grip on Eric until her nails were digging crescent moons into his forearms. He could see the murky frown marring her focused expression and the way her forehead wrinkled like she wanted to argue against him.

“Aurora if you don’t stop, I’m going to fuck you right here and you’re not going to remember a single bit of it in the morning.” His voice was rough and harsh and she could feel his eyes boring into her.

Slowly but surely, her senses came back to her and he regretfully felt her legs slacken until he could properly pull away. She didn’t open her eyes- couldn’t, or maybe she just wasn’t willing to. Then it was over as suddenly as it had begun.

With ragged breath, Eric cautiously pulled the blankets over her, lingering for the barest second. “Go to sleep now.” His voice was still dark and hoarse.

She sighed and frowned, and Eric couldn’t tell if her lip just quivered or it was the movement of her rolling away from him to face the other side of the room. He realized while rubbing his face with his hands that this was the first time a girl had ever been in his bed and he was actually wanting them to just go to sleep.

As for him, that had just been too damn much. He busied himself with making up the couch in the next room to sleep on and poured himself a drink, but his thoughts kept drifting back to that soft girl in his bed.

She had been like a bird in his hands, so fragile and fluttery, but so fucking willing. When he touched her, he could feel as well as see the way it made her skin flush, could hear the faint hitch of breath in her throat, the way her lids half closed… She had been grinding her hips into him for christ’s sake.

Fuck.

Eric growled at the constant strain in his pants and he needed to get off. He would be up all night imagining if the rest of her tasted as good as her mouth did.

With an exasperated sigh, he checked his watch. The party would still be going on. Who was that girl Aurora had been with? He could probably find her again.

Without so much as a backwards glance into his bedroom, he grabbed his jacket again and locked the door behind him.

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