#she left between chapters and they didn’t show it and I don’t appreciate it-

[munson-blurbs]

Living After Midnight (Failed Rockstar!Eddie x Motel Worker!Reader)

♫ Summary: What started as a quest to prove Eddie's 'manhood' ended with a gesture that had you hurtling towards your future--ready or not. (5.4k words)

♫ CW: slowburn, strangers-to-lovers, angst, parental conflict, poverty, lots of bees, mention of parental illness, brief mention of sex work, finally some actual physical contact between them, eventual smut (18+ only, minors DNI)

♫ Divider credit to @hellfire--cult

chapter five: float like a butterfly

For the first time since you’d started working nights, you didn’t dread the sound of your alarm ringing. You’d always appreciated its stillness, with only city noises and the occasional guest puncturing the perfect silence. There were some nights where you didn’t speak a word for the full eight hours of your shift; you just read or wrote or daydreamed until the clock struck six.

Except for last night, of course, when you’d passed the time by talking with Eddie and minimally contributed to wallpaper removal. Your mind flickered back to the way he’d placed his hand on yours. The sensation of his palm, calloused but warm, lingering a beat longer than necessary. 

The whole moment could have been deemed unnecessary, in theory. Surely he could have modeled the action on his own and then handed you the tool so you could imitate him. Was it truly to show you how to scrape off glue, or did he have a more gratuitous intention?

Shaking your head, you eschewed the idea almost as quickly as you’d considered it. He was just being polite, a rarity among most of your male guests. Maybe that's why you were so hyper-focused on it; years of clipped conversations and crude comments had you mistaking kindness for something more flirtatious.

Speak of the Devil…

Eddie stood in the lobby, his guitar case slung across his back. He kept one elbow perched on the desk as he spoke to your mom. Whatever he said was making her laugh, a genuine one that brought a light to her eyes. She noticed you first, and when she waved you over, Eddie turned around to see what caught her attention. His smile shifted from open-mouth to close-lipped, more thoughtful and discreet without losing any of its charm.

Slinging your bag off of your shoulder next to the desk, you feigned a casual demeanor and asked, “What did I miss? Serenading my mom?” You nodded towards the guitar case, biting back a smile.

Eddie shook his head, his curls falling in his face. “Tried to make a couple bucks down at the subway station.” He shrugged, shoving his hand in his pocket. “Not enough for a ticket home, but it’s a start.”

Home. Obviously he was going home. New York had nothing for him, had chewed him up and spit him out like he left a bitter taste in its mouth. He had no reason to stay.

Oblivious to your disappointment, Mom laughed again. “Mr. Munson–”

“Eddie. Mr. Munson is my uncle.”

“Eddie,” Mom quickly amended, “was just telling me about the time he ripped his pants while he was on stage.” 

Rosy red seeped into Eddie’s cheeks, evidently not expecting your mom to share that information with you. “And that was the last time I wore leather pants,” he said. “Lesson learned.”

Deeming this conclusion insufficient, you inquired further. “How exactly does one rip leather pants?” You stifled a giggle, just imagining him feeling a sudden breeze mid-concert.

“Well, ya see,” he started, crossing his arms over his faded Metallica t-shirt and smirking, “I’m what’s known as an enthusiastic performer. And as such, one might find that leather can be quite restricting.”

“So…you got really sweaty and they ripped.”

Eddie hid his face behind a curtain of curls, all but confirming your suspicions. “Don’t put words in my mouth, Heiress,” he warned with a smile, cocking his pointer finger in your direction.

Mom took that as her cue to leave, quickly clasping your hand and excusing herself. Thick tension set in without her there as a buffer. Her presence prevented any conversation from dipping too deep into flirtation; now, there was nothing stopping it. 

Except, of course, the looming fact that he was a guest. And like all guests, he was a temporary fixture in your life. 

“The new wallpaper didn’t come in yet,” you blurted out. Dad had insisted on ordering it from a family friend, saving money but forgoing the promises of timely delivery afforded by bigger suppliers. 

Eddie shrugged, unbothered by the information. “I know.” He placed a cigarette between his lips and held out the pack in offering, but you shook your head. Without missing a beat, he put his own cigarette back and returned the box to his pocket. “Your mom was saying how excited she is for you to finish your classes and take over the motel.”

Panic flooded your lungs and constricted your breathing at the potential crisis he might have inadvertently caused. Did Mom seem upset? Her usual signs were noticeably absent: narrowed eyes, set jaw, lips painfully taut in a silent roar: we’ll discuss this later. 

There was none of that. She was laughing. Happy. Not a hint of disappointment. Yet anxiety still hooked its claws into your skin, a stinging reminder of the anvil dangling over your head. 

“You didn’t say—”

“Not a word.” Eddie waved away the thought. “Just smiled and nodded.”

Your chest went concave with relief, and you had to stop yourself from reaching out and pulling him into a hug. His arms held a surprising strength, as evidenced by his wallpaper removal abilities, and you wondered how they would feel wrapped around your waist. Did he hug tightly, not letting go until all of the air had been squeezed from your lungs? Or did he prefer a softer, lazier embrace, one with a hand free to stroke up and down your back?

Why did it matter?

“Is there a reason you haven’t told them?” he asked. The sound of his voice invaded your senses, pulling you back to reality in an instant. “I mean, they seem nice enough.”

Stooping down to grab your notebook, you nodded in agreement. “That’s part of the problem, I guess.” Your teeth scraped along your tongue as you considered your words. “If they were shitty, I wouldn’t feel so bad about letting them down.”

“Letting them down?”

You nodded, feeling that familiar pit that formed in your stomach whenever this subject arose. “Yeah. I can’t be a social worker and run the motel. And if I don’t stick around, they’ll have to close this place for good.”

Eddie breathes out with a low whistle. “Pretty high stakes.”

“You can say that again.” Resting your elbows on the desk, you buried your head in your hands. “How did your parents react when you told them you wanted to be a rockstar?” you asked, your voice slightly muffled. 

He took so long to respond that you looked up, wondering if he’d up and left while you weren’t watching. 

“My dad’s, um, not in the picture, and my mom died when I was a kid,” he finally said, using his left thumbnail to pick at the right. 

“I’m sorry.” And you were: for his loss and for prying into his history. Mortification bloomed and prickled sweat under your arms, and you clenched them to your sides in a feeble attempt to hide any forming stains.

“S’okay. I mean, you didn��t know, so…” his shoulders moved up and down, his mouth drawn into a forgiving half-smile, “now you know.”

Now you know. A little slice of him, presented to you like one of the cakes the local bakery kept locked behind a pane of refrigerated glass. The ones you admired as a kid, reveling in their perfectly smooth icing and intricately piped pastel flowers. They’d always seemed too delicate to touch, so you’d skipped over them in favor of sprinkle-laden cookies.

Logically, you know that the cakes were made for consumption. All you needed to do was ask for a taste. But you could never bring yourself to ruin their beauty. Not then, and not now.

And so, as always, you stepped away and chose the easier path instead.   

“Did you really rip your pants on stage?”

Eddie’s nose wrinkled at the sudden subject change, but he recovered quickly. “Sure did. Split right down the seam.” He puffed out a short laugh through his nose. “Poor Gareth got an eyeful that night.”

“Are you sure that isn’t the real reason you left the band?” Picking up the nearest pen, you poked the capped end into his forearm. 

He play-winced, rubbing the spot the cap touched, and shook his head. “Nah, this was my high school band. Corroded Coffin.”

“Sounds ominous.”

“Oh, yeah. We were terrifying.” Eddie widened his eyes in mock-horror. “The backbone of Indiana’s satanic panic, actually.”

You raised your brows. “Impressive.”

“Mhm. We only broke up because our bassist went to college out of state. Princeton.” He lowered his voice at the name as though relaying confidential information. 

“Not the Ivy Leagues!” You pressed your hand to your heart, clutching metaphorical pearls. 

Eddie grimaced. “I’m afraid so.”

“I’ve heard Princeton is known for their demonic studies program, so that tracks.”

This is nice. This is easy. No mention of schoolwork, or the motel, or parents—or lack thereof. You could do this all night. 

A throat clearing followed by a hacking cough took you both by surprise. Peering over Eddie’s shoulder, you found Phyllis standing in the lobby doorway. 

“There’s a wasp nest outside my window,” she said, tugging up one drooping shirt sleeve. The odor of stale cigarettes grew stronger as she walked closer to you and Eddie; even if she quit smoking today, the pungency would always cling to her. 

Uncapping your pen, you reached into the desk drawer and grabbed the stack of Post-Its. “I’ll make a note to get some insecticide spray tomorrow,” you promised, poorly curbing your exasperation. 

If it isn’t one thing, it’s another. 

The older woman didn’t put up any argument, but Eddie was obviously displeased. “Like hell you will.” He glanced around, pent-up energy overflowing as he bounced on the balls of his feet. “You got a baseball bat around here?”

Your “Uh, no,” overlapped with Phyllis’s nonchalant, “Yeah, of course,” and she left to fetch it.

A sigh escaped you, hinting at your mounting irritation. “Eddie, absolutely not,” you insisted. “Just wait till I get the spray and you can do it then.”

He clicked his tongue with a note of condescension that you didn’t particularly appreciate. “Don’t worry about it, Heiress. I’m from the Midwest; our wasps are like your rats. This’ll be nothing.” When you remained unconvinced, he adopted a teasing grin. “I don’t tell you how to do your nerd stuff, do I? So leave me to my man stuff in peace.”

You nearly choked on your own saliva. “Your man stuff?”

“Yes. Very strong and burly.” He flexed a bicep for emphasis and you threw your hands up in defeat, trying to ignore the soft fluttering in your stomach at the vein bulging through his skin.

Phyllis returned with the bat, the wooden neck clenched between arthritic fingers. “It’s right around the side,” she told Eddie. “Just look for the giant nest. And don’t forget to give this back when you’re done; I’m working tonight.” She thrust the bat into Eddie’s hand and padded back to her room, slippers thwacking against the linoleum. 

Eddie twirled the bat, threading it through his fingers and catching it smoothly. He smiled, unable to camouflage his pride. “See? I got this.” His grasp was determined without a hint of tenderness, a stark contrast to the way he’d held your hand the night prior. Tucking it underneath a denim-clad arm, he took a deep breath and pushed through the front door like he was preparing for battle.

You watched him leave, shaking your head. Evidently, he had a point to prove, but you doubted the chances of his success. Part of you wished you could leave the desk to watch him in action. Another part was relieved that you had the excuse to avoid witnessing this disaster as it unfolded.

As you predicted, not even half a minute had passed before you heard Eddie yelping, his footsteps thudding towards the motel’s entrance. He flung the door open with enough force that it smacked against the wall, scrambling to slam it shut behind him. His chest heaved under his jacket as he tried to catch his breath. 

“Shit, shit, shit.” He swatted around his head at some lingering wasps. “Son of a bitch!”  

Sucking your tongue to your front teeth, you bit back an I-told-you-so. “How’s your ‘manhood’ or whatever?” 

Maybe that wasn’t much better than outright gloating, but you couldn’t help yourself. 

Eddie made a closed fist with only his middle finger sticking up, and he winced almost immediately. “I think one of those little fuckers got me.” He cradled one hand in the other as you walked towards him for a closer inspection. 

Sure enough, a stinger was poking out from the side of his forefinger.

Phyllis came shuffling back from her room, pink lipsticked mouth pursed in concern. “Jesus, kid. Were you trying to piss them off?” The loose skin under her neck wobbled when she chortled. “You swung at that nest like you were Babe Ruth!”

Through a tense smile, you asked her to get a soapy washcloth so you could clean out the wound before it could spark an allergic reaction. “Unless, of course, that interferes with your man stuff,” you said to Eddie, all-too happy to throw his words back in his face.

“Fuck off.” A traitorous chuckle broke through his stoic exterior despite his very real pain. His eyes followed your movements as you grabbed the first aid kit.

You took his warm palm in yours, gently turning it to assess the afflicted finger. The stinger was lodged under his skin, already turning the surrounding area an angry red. 

“Oof, he really stung you good, huh?” Your tone was all sympathy; you figured he’d gotten enough jabs from the wasps. 

Eddie gritted his teeth as you gingerly scraped at the stinger with the edge of your notebook, taking care not to squeeze out any of the venom. You tightened your grip to keep his hand in place, feeling the soft but steady thrum of his heartbeat between his wrist and his thumb’s tendon. It had a melody of its own. 

Slowly, meticulously, you eased the stinger out from where it was wedged.

“Sorry,” you said softly, noting the way his eyes clamped shut as you drew out the stinger and brushed it onto the desk. 

“S’okay.” He managed a small smile, one you returned without hesitation.

The night was still for a moment before he spoke again, his voice soft but eager. 

“Tell me more about Izzy.”

Apparently, you weren’t the only one with a penchant for rapid subject changes. 

At once, your head was filled with memories of her: the pigtails held in place with thick rubber bands, the popsicle juice-stained pink t-shirt, the giggles that melted away your stress from a succession of ungrateful customers. He said something else, but you were too engrossed in your own thoughts for the words to register. 

“Hmm?”

“The little girl you helped.” Eddie cocked a quizzical brow, suddenly worried that he’d remembered incorrectly. “That was her name, right?”

You nodded. “She was only there that one day. I didn’t see her again.”

Her mother was probably too embarrassed to stay any longer and found another motel. If you could go back in time, you would have reassured her, maybe even offered to watch after Izzy while she worked. You might have informed her of programs where she could find a job that didn’t put her or Izzy in harm’s way. 

Eddie continued talking, for some reason persistent in his quest for answers. “But you said she talked to you while she was drawing. About her favorite stuff?”

Phyllis returned with cloth before you could answer him, and she rested it on the desk with a sigh. “I’m gonna head out,” she said, pointing at Eddie, “but my bat better be in my room before I get back, Yogi Berra.”

He nodded, absently massaging the nape of his neck. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Good.” One burgundy-painted fingertip pointed at Eddie, then at you. “I like this kid.”

How do you even respond to that? An honest, ‘me, too’? An overly sarcastic, ‘he’s alright’? 

You opted for a small, unassuming smile and the reminder to be safe, which was absurd when you really thought about it. Phyllis had been doing this, as she put it, “since my tits were above my belly button,” yet you were telling her about safety. 

Bringing your attention back to the sting, you clutched the sopping wet washcloth. Phyllis apparently hadn’t wrung it out; water dripped down the side of your fingers and splashed onto the floor in an uneven plop-plop-plop. 

With an abundance of care, you swiped the cloth over the sting site. It was already starting to swell, the skin raised and angry. 

Eddie reflexively pulled away, the tension evident from the way his front teeth formed grooves in his lower lip. 

“Fuck, that hurts.” His free fist pounded into the desktop with so much force that, for a split second, you worried that he might leave a dent. 

“I know, but we have to clean it out,” you said. 

He grumbled something unintelligible under his breath; you weren't sure you even wanted to know what he said. “Yeah, yeah.” He winced as the frayed fibers grazed him again. “So…Izzy?”

“There isn’t much to say,” you answer honestly. “I mean, she just told me she loved McDonalds french fries and Muppet Babies. Especially baby Fozzie Bear.”

“Anything else?”

You thought back for a moment. “Her favorite animal was dogs, but only the little ones. She said the big ones scared her because they barked too loud. Oh, and her favorite color was light purple.”

The memory is bittersweet, bathing you in both comfort and a dull ache. It was almost six years ago but the little girl had made herself at home in your mind. You thought about her on a daily basis, wondering if she and her mom were still bouncing from motel to motel, or if they’d found a permanent place to settle. Every ounce of optimism you possessed worked to help you believe that they were safe and that she didn’t remember when safety wasn’t guaranteed.

“I knew it.”

You looked up from applying calamine lotion, dabbing the pink-stained cotton ball over any excess dripping off of his finger. “Knew what?” 

“I knew you’d remember everything she told you.” His thumb relaxed and fluttered down until it rested on yours, the pad of his finger on your knuckle.

You reached for a Band-Aid before realizing that opening it required two hands. With more hesitation that you anticipated, you let go of him. “And what makes you say that?” You wrapped the bandage around his finger, careful not to press too tightly around the sting. “There. Good as new.”

Eddie smiled his appreciation. “I, um, had a similar experience when I was a kid.” He swallowed, picking at the Band-Aid until the adhesive side began to bunch up. When he allowed himself to glance at you, he saw you looking back at him, silently encouraging him to tell his story. 

“My mom got sick when I was in kindergarten. The treatment made her tired and nauseous, like, all the time; when she wasn’t sleeping, she was throwing up.” His eyes clouded over and his voice cracked slightly; he cleared his throat and continued. “I was at school one day, and the social worker asked me if I had anyone at home who washed my clothes for me. And when I told her no, she asked me to bring any clothes I needed cleaned with me the next day. So I did, and after school let out, she took me to the Laundromat.” 

If you told him that he didn’t have to keep talking, he'd stop. He’d wipe away any residual tears and excuse himself, and you’d once again spend your shift alone. And so you didn’t say anything, just stood there as his gears turned in recollection.

“She had this game: she’d hold up a piece of clothing and ask if it goes in the ‘lights’ or ‘darks’ pile, and she would get faster and faster until I was laughing too hard to answer.” Eddie exhaled a short laugh and swiped his tongue over his top teeth. “The whole time, I’m thinking that it’s all fun, that this is a normal thing that every kid did. I didn’t realize until years later that it was because my clothes smelled, y’know?” 

Sheepishness colored Eddie’s face in pink splotches as he shifted from man to boy and then back again. 

“Anyway, your story about Izzy kinda reminded me of that. And she might not remember your name or even what you talked about, but she’ll remember someone being there for her. Someone who didn’t act like she was a bother or a charity case. Just a kid who wanted to play.”

His words left you without any of your own. There was so much to digest; chiefly, your newfound glimpse into Eddie’s past. And though you’d only ever known him as an adult, you were still picturing him as a child. He sat atop a counter where others folded their clothes, his brown eyes–looking even bigger than they did presently, given his small stature–gazing up at the woman in wonderment as he giddily sorted his laundry. 

And then, of course, there was the delicately embedded compliment. The reassurance that you had been a positive force in Izzy’s life, even through one brief encounter. 

It was the only part that you could elaborate on without intruding on his privacy. He’d shared something so personal, and while you were desperate to learn more about him, you didn’t want to barge past the boundaries he had so carefully constructed.  

“Yeah, I…just wanted her to feel safe, I guess.” You’d devised a plan while you drew flowers and Care Bears in case no one showed up to find her. Everything had to be done so that she remained in the dark about the situation’s severity; you’d have Mom or Dad check the room, only calling the authorities if Izzy’s mom was unresponsive—or worse. 

In the end, there was no need for you to worry. Her mother was alert and Izzy herself was none the wiser that anything was wrong. You hadn’t even told your parents about the situation despite their potential involvement. Eddie, of all people, was the only other person who knew. 

He nodded and reached over, giving your hand a subtle, tender squeeze. 

“You did.”

Reassurance drifted through the air and clung to you like the sharp scent of tobacco on his jacket. Receiving compliments wasn’t your strongest suit, so you pivoted topics to avoid stretching the ensuing awkward silence any further. 

“The calamine lotion should help with the itching, but you can take some Benadryl if it’s still bad.” Rummaging through the first aid kit, you searched for the medication but only managed to scrounge up a bottle of expired ibuprofen. “There’s a pharmacy a few blocks down. They’ll have some there.” A little mom and pop shop that sold candy and cheap wine in addition to different over-the-counter medicines, it had been a community staple since before you were born.

The corners of Eddie’s eyes crinkled, lips turning upwards in amusement. “An heiress, a social worker, and a nurse? What can’t you do?”

That was a loaded question, and you were relieved that it was rhetorical so you wouldn’t have to list all of your shortcomings. You settled for flipping him off with an accompanying smile of your own.

“I should probably get that bat before she gets back,” he said, glancing towards the older woman’s room. He lowered his voice and continued. “She kinda scares me.”

“Oh, I definitely would not get on her bad side,” you agreed. “Phyllis’s wrath will make that wasp sting feel like a walk in the park.”

“Yeah, that’s what I figured.” His laugh was music that stirred up a desire to dance, to be carried by the melody like a strong gust of wind, and then he was out the door.

Immediately, you were inclined to find something new to talk about when he walked back in. You’d had two days of companionship and had been spoiled by it; the thought of another night in solitude suddenly seemed lonely.

You couldn’t ask about his parents or the social worker who’d taken him to the Laundromat; that was too personal, too soon. Same with his old band. But music–his favorite songs, musicians, albums–that might be safe enough to explore.

The door opened and brought with it a cool evening breeze. Eddie returned much more confidently than he had the last time, Phyllis’s bat slung over his shoulder. 

“Apparently, I actually managed to knock the nest down,” he reported, sounding as surprised as you felt. 

He stifled a yawn, denim creasing at the elbow when he lifted his hand to cover his mouth. It was then that you noticed the way sleep tugged at his eyelids, dashing any remaining hope of having a conversational partner this evening. Asking him to stay awake for you was just selfish. 

“I’ll see you around, Heiress. Let me know if there’s any more man stuff you need from me.” He rapped his knuckles on the desk twice in quick succession and started towards his room. 

“Night, Eddie.”

Opportunity slipped through your fingers as he walked away, the sound of his footsteps eventually too muted to hear. You shoved your disappointment beneath the surface. Eddie wasn’t your friend; he was a guest who happened to be friendly. Asking him to stick around and chat would be unprofessional. 

If he happened to stop by the desk while you worked, you could make small talk. Otherwise, it would be business as usual. 

Minutes were hours and hours were days. Another trucker needed a room for the night, and you checked him in around four o’clock. 

You thought about the certainty in Eddie’s assurance that Izzy had felt safe with you. He didn’t know her; he barely knew you, and he wasn’t even there when it all happened. Yet his approval illuminated from the inside out and you replay it over and over. 

You did. You did. You did. 

Izzy was safe with you and she knew it. If you swallowed your fears and forged your own path, you could help other kids just like her. But it would come at a steep cost unless your parents could somehow miraculously afford to hire a new employee.

Your stomach turns just imagining the motel’s windows shuttered, a For Sale sign propped up in the door, ready to be snapped up by a major hotel chain for a mediocre sum that would barely pay off the overdue bills. It haunted you.

How long could you do this? How long could you push off your own dreams in favor of your parents’? At what point did you cross that fine line between selflessness and martyrdom?

Exhaustion crushed your body, strong enough to overpower the churning anxiety. Still, your sleep was fitful, and you woke up before your alarm feeling wholly unrested. Achiness radiated through your bones as you dragged yourself out of bed.

You knew what you had to do.

Dad noticed your earlier departure, so used to you leaving at 1:45 every day like clockwork. His brows pinched with perplexity as he determined whether he’d forgotten about a change in your schedule.

“Just running an errand before class.”

His confusion faded, replaced with a grin. “Thought I was losing my mind.” The way he stood under the lighting accentuated the gray flecks in his hair and mustache and solidified that he was, in fact, aging. His eventual retirement loomed closer, more of a when than an if with each passing day.

“Can’t lose what you never had,” you teased weakly. Dad met your joke with a wink; if he had picked up on the falter in your voice, he was gracious enough to ignore it.

You took a slight deviation from your usual route, walking past the bus stop and turning the corner until you reached the mailbox. It beckoned you, taunted you, sneered at your cowardice. The stamped envelope mocked you tenfold; innocuous on the surface but held the weight of betrayal.

It contained your admissions letter to NYU with the “accept” box marked and a deposit check that nearly drained your savings, ready to go.

The mailbox hinge creaked open so loudly that it seemed to echo. All you had to do was drop the envelope down the chute and pray that you made the right choice.

Regret surged through your veins the moment the envelope left your fingertips. You acted on instinct, shoving your hand back down the box to reclaim your letter, but you knew it was a fruitless effort before you’d even failed. It was already lost in a sea of bills and birthday cards. 

“Shit!” Yanking your arm out before someone accused you of mail theft, you tilted your head back in an attempt to stop the impending tears.

With one stupid decision, you’d heaved a shovel into the dirt and begun digging a grave for the family business.

What the hell were you thinking? 

As though it had a mind of its own, your foot swung out and smacked against the tin drum with all of your might. It took a beat for the pain to hit, the throbbing in your toes matching the reverberating metal.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” You didn’t care who saw, who heard. Anger and self-loathing bubbled over like boiling water and scalded you in shame. Everything was so far out of your control, and you couldn’t rein it in. The world kept spinning fast, faster, too fast—

“Kicking it won’t make the mailman show up, y’know. ‘S not like rubbing a genie’s lamp.” 

Eddie stood on the other side of the mailbox. A plastic bag dangled from his hand, the box of drugstore brand antihistamine peeking through its translucence. His playfulness morphed into concern when he noted your dewy lashes. “Heiress? You okay?”

“Yeah, fine.” You swiped at your cheeks and sniffed back the mucus that collected in your nostrils. You probably should have been embarrassed that he’d caught you in such a state of distress; maybe you would be once the dust settled. 

He wrinkled his nose dubiously. You couldn’t blame him; why would he be convinced when you were assaulting mailboxes and swearing at the air?

“Seriously. Just having a bad day.” And it was going to get even worse if you missed your bus—again. “Thanks for asking, though.” You managed a grateful smile to prove your sincerity.

Grabbing your backpack from its spot on the ground, you zipped it back up and hoisted it over your shoulder before starting back towards the stop. 

“Hey, wait a sec.” Eddie called out to you, shuffling over until he was by your side. “You, uh, your makeup…” He trailed off bashfully, raising his thumb but stopping before it touched your skin. “May I?”

You nodded, breath hitching as the pad of his finger grazed just below your eye. He gently rubbed, tongue poking between his lips while he focused on removing the smudge without hurting you. 

He was close, almost too close for comfort. There was a small cut on his chin where he must have nicked himself shaving, and you forced yourself to stare at that instead of his wide eyes. 

“There…we…go.” He held up a mascara-stained thumb as evidence. Without thinking, you pressed your own thumb to it. The knuckles of your remaining four fingers slotted between his until you pulled away. 

Eddie laughed, apparently amused by the odd gesture. “I’ll take that as a thank you.” He wiped the residue on his shirt, not caring if it left a mark. “Don’t miss the bus; wouldn’t want you to be late for your nerd stuff again.”

“Mhm.”

You harnessed all of your strength to unglue your feet from the sidewalk. Your body operated on autopilot to its destination while your mind only thought of the heat that leapt from his thumb to yours, or maybe yours to his. 

It was cyclical, you surmised as the bus approached, with no clear beginning or end.

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[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Dirty Work 39

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as bullying, familial discord/abuse, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You start a new gig and find one of your clients to be hard to please.

Characters: Loki

Note: I slept a lot better so you get a touch longer chapter today.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

You sit in the mud, mortified. You want desperately to leave but you don’t have the strength to do so. Your flight might be seen for exactly what it is; cowardice. You don’t have much but you have a sliver of dignity to you.

So you pretend. Just like those years you went to school and pretended everything was okay. That your father wasn’t awful and your house wasn’t dingy and smoky. All this time you’ve put your head down and obeyed Mr. Laufeyson as if you had no other purpose. You can do it.

You mimic Sif and stay reclined. You close your eyes and try to enjoy the soft harp music plucking from speakers. You should’ve gone with Frigga. A bit of sweat is better than stewing in dirt and shame.

Your mind races. How long is normal? When can you leave without giving away that doubt gnawing in your stomach? Why would you want to leave? So you can go back and face Mr. Laufeyson? What will you tell him? Do you tell him?

“Thank you, babe, marvelous,” Hela’s silky voice interrupts the din. You open your eyes and look over as her lithe figure slinks in like a cat, “where is she? Ah there you–”

Hela stops short as her eyes flick from you to Sif. The other woman remains silent, eyes closed as she is unbothered by the disturbance.

Hela sets down the glass on the ledge of the tub next to hers and swipes off her robe, handing it over to the attendant behind her. Her skin is rosy and damp already.

“Sif Sigmund,” Hela declares as she lowers herself into the mud bath, “what a coincidence.”

“Is it?” Sif opens a single eye, “what with Walpurgisnacht coming so quickly, you must be hard at work.”

“I didn’t know you were back in town.”

“Nor I you,” Sif rebuffs, “I always thought you loathed it here.”

“Passing through,” Hela dismissed, “family.”

“And the help?” Sif suggests as she opens her other eye and looks at you.

Hela snickers, “the help?” She echoes, “some of us can be friends with other women, honey.”

“Friends?” Sif squints, “I never knew that to be a line with you.”

“Don’t be jealous, it looks awful on you,” Hela retorts.

“Jealous? You Odinsons always thought so highly of yourselves.”

“So highly you wanted to be one of us,” Hela snipes and lifts her glass, “babe, this is a spa, I’ve come here to relax, not argue with homewreckers.”

Sif’s lips press tightly. You gulp and peer between the women, confused. There’s animosity there which both reassures you and worries you. Despite Frigga’s praises, it doesn’t seem the gorgeous black-haired beauty left on the best foot. Or rather, this a show of how the Odinsons can be vengeful to those who do not fit into their pretty little picture.

Your eyes meet Sif and her thick brows slant. She scoffs and shakes her head.

“Not much of a home to wreck,” she mutters before she takes a sip.

You look away and resist the urge to drown yourself in the mud. Will she be attending Walpurgisnacht? Should you warn Laufeyson? Your chest racks at the thought. You don’t think he would take it as caution, he might even be upset at the mention of her.

Better to just keep your mouth shut and do as you’re told.

✨

You return to the Odinson abode less than refreshed. As Frigga and Hela glow, you feel a dark cloud around you. You keep thinking about that woman; Sif. Just the thought of her name makes you shrivel up. So tall and sleek and elegant. You don’t know why you care so much, you and Laufeyson have an arrangement, not a relationship.

As you pass through the front door, Frigga proclaims that she’ll have some iced tea and snacks put out on the veranda for the evening. You nod and wave your bag wordlessly, you’ll hang your dress upstairs and return.

You scurry up the staircase and slip through the double doors of the bedroom. You linger at the threshold, looking around. Something seems amiss. Something’s… different but you can’t place it.

You go to the wardrobe and hang the dress within, but itself. Your hand flutters over the sewn on silk flowers. It’s so pretty, you don’t know if you should even wear it. You’ll look like a child playing dressup. Maybe you should ask Laufeyson if you should even attend; you could stay in the kitchen and help like you did with Corissa.

You close the wardrobe and flit back out. Before you can reach the stairs, you hear a familiar thunderous timbre. You stop at the rolling voice.

“Father, I have been on my best behaviour. I don’t see why I shouldn’t have my reward…”

Your eyes round and you quickly press on. You shouldn’t be listening. That’s none of your business. Besides, the last thing you need is to run into Thor again. Especially alone.

Downstairs, you find the house desolate. You go into the kitchen and see the elder maid at the counter, stirring ice into a deep blue mixture. Gertrude, you remember. You give a measly hello and rush through to the veranda doors.

Hela is already sat, her head tilted up to the sun as her eyes are hidden beneath her big blocky sunglasses. She doesn’t flinch as you claim a seat of your own, nearly curling up in a ball atop it. He fans herself with her long fingers.

She sighs as Gertrude emerges to serve the iced tea, declaring it wild blueberry before retreating. You fidget but don’t move to pour a glass. You’re thirsty but too distracted to worry about your chalky tongue.

“Did you have a productive conversation with Sif?” Hela frightens you as she sits straight.

“Um, I didn’t say much,” you shrug.

“I wouldn’t think, but did she?”

You shake your head. She didn’t say much of anything. You suspect you aren’t worth her breath.

“Hm, nothing about my brother… brothers?”

“Well… she introduced herself and told me to send her regards to Mr. Laufeyson–”

“Oh, babe, don’t do that. Surely don’t,” she warns. “Ugh, what a pot stirrer she is.”

You frown. Of course you wouldn’t have carried that message. You couldn’t bring yourself to even say her name to Mr. Laufeyson. You’ve seen how his eyes darken when he hears it.

“Look, babe,” Hela plants an elbow on the armrest of her chair, “we should clear the air.”

You tweak your head to the side. What does she mean?

“I know I got carried away when we first met. We both did. I sense there is some tension left between us but we must move past it, yes? It was a bit of fun, nothing more. I can’t have you getting confused,” she flutters her fingers, “I see a pretty thing and I want to play with it but I’ll spare you the pain, you’ve enough bother with my brother. I have a rather short attention span.”

You blink, “oh…kay.”

“So we’re agreed, as fun as this would be, it’s simple to messy,” she smirks, “not that I mind a mess.”

You nod and reach for the pitcher to distract yourself. That day flashes in your mind; the clothes, the mimosas, her lips… you almost forgot it all in the whirlwind of the last few days. You think she may have too until that very moment.

“Darlings,” Frigga emerges in deep pink cotton, “oh, look at this, delicious.”

She sits and uses the tiny golden tongs to serve herself a plate of artisanal crackers then uses the knife to scrape on some of the soft cheese. You watch her, your stomach growling even as it turns. You’re too anxious to eat.

This whole thing is ripe to be a disaster. No, you will be the disaster.

✨

You excuse yourself from the table. You need to lay down. You’ll retreat and hide until Mr. Laufeyson comes to find you. That’s all you can do. 

You’re cautious as you climb the stairs, almost wishing you’d ask for an escort. You listen for the same boisterous echo as before. It’s quiet. You let out a breath; no Thor. 

You let yourself through the double doors and close them firmly. You turn the lock and it schlocks into place. The house is so still and silent, it’s ominous. You blame your addled wits and the long day. You’re on edge after the chaos of it all and that to come.

You go to bed and sit. You hang your head and sigh. You rub your cheeks and slowly raise yourself up, looking around as you once more feel something is off. Your luggage… you left it against the wall, still unpacked, and now, it’s not there.

You stand and peer around, spinning. Where would it have gone? Did Gertrude or Frida, the maids take it? You go back to the wardrobe, it’s still empty. As you turn and near the dresser, a click makes you wince. You look at the doors, they remain locked and sealed.

The clearing of a throat draws you around to face the bathroom door. You hadn’t noticed before that it was closed. Now it’s open but still filled. Mr. Laufeyson surprises you as he wears only a robe and smirks at you. Has he been waiting?

“Mr. Laufeyson,” you titter as you mash your palms together. “I didn’t know you…”

He puts a finger to his lips to hush you, a coy smirk twisting his lips. He turns his hand and curls his fingertip, beckoning you across the room. Shakily, you pull your hands apart and march over to him. He backs up, opening the wide door with him to reveal the sparkling bathroom. You enter hesitantly, unsure, eyes scanning frantically.

You stand in the doorway as he backs up. Your eyes bounce around the space desperately and finally stop as you find your laptop, the laptop he provided you, open on the counter. You shift uncomfortably, a tide of confusion welling over.

“Mr. Laufeyson, what’s…”

He hushes you again, this time with a hiss. You snap your mouth shut and swallow your voice. You look at him, not in the face, but at his throat and how it constricts.

“Pet, you are such a diligent worker. I admire that about you,” he begins, his voice like the distant threat of a storm, “truly, you’d not be here if I didn’t. You’ve ever been so thorough.”

There’s a mocking lilt in his words. Your shoulders slump and you wilt, waiting for the truth. Waiting for the insults you know must dance on his tongue to escape.

“But I didn’t expect you to be so…exhaustive in your research,” he goes to the laptop and taps the space bar to wake up the screen. You frown as he waves you closer. 

As you step up, your heart clenches at the first noise. A man’s growl. You don’t understand until you see the screen clearly. You’d watched the video on mute but you know it by sight. That shower one he’d nearly caught you with before. You didn’t even think to erase your history.

“Pet,” he angles to you and touches your cheek. You flinch and hug yourself, “you are a naughty little minx, aren’t you?”

“Mr. Laufeyson,” your voice is hollow and quiet, “I didn’t… I was curious…”

“If you are so curious,” he lets his hand trail down our neck and along your shoulder, “well, you could always ask me.”

He grips your upper arm and pulls it from across your chest. He makes you face him as your heart batters your ribc age. You’re lightheaded as the colours of the screen move in your peripheral and the low volume tickles in your eardrums. You sway as Mr. Laufeyson holds onto your arms.

“Pet,” he drags his hands up and down your arms, “you needn’t be so shy. Didn’t we have a wonderful night?”

You bat your lashes and nod. It was nice but… you’re still not her. You’ll never be her. You’re just a thing to him. Like Hela said, ‘a pretty thing’ or ‘creature’, as Thor taunted, a ‘maid’.

“Well, pet, I’ve reviewed your research,” his hands move to the front of your blouse and he tugs on the fabric, “and come to my own conclusions.”

He yanks as you stand paralysed. You only raise your arms as you sense his frustration. You stare straight ahead, barely processing what’s happening as he undresses you. Your skirt falls down your legs as he traces its path with his touch. He rolls down your stocking and circles around you to unhook your bra.

He pauses as he dips his thumbs under the fabric of your panties and bow to growl along your crown. He rips them down and lets them drop to your feet. He wraps you up in his arms, groping your chest as he rocks you. You feel his arousal, his need. You wouldn’t think of it as desire; he doesn’t truly want you, he wants what he can do to you.

“Pet, why don’t you run us a shower,” he slithers against your ear.

“Yes, Mr. Laufeyson,” you eagerly escape his embrace as he lets you go.

You focus on the easy task. You go to the shower and slide back the glass door. You crank on the faucet, testing the water with your fingers until you have the right temperature. You are deliberate in each step, ignoring his movement behind you.

You squeak as he’s right against you again, his robe gone. He urges you into the show and slides the door shut in his stead. He holds you flush to him, an arm hooked around your middle as his other finds your chin. He turns your head as he leans his own around to meet your lips. His hard dick presses into your back as he groans into you.

His tongue delves deep into your mouth, his kiss sloppy and greedy. You let him do whatever he pleases, doing your best to play along. Your skin speckles with more than the heat of the shower as it reminds you of that video. 

What did he think when he discovered that? Why had he been nosing through your things anyhow? Well, they aren’t truly yours, they belong to him, just like you do. Just another possession among his collection.

His hands rove up and down your body, exploring it as the showerhead slakes you in hot water, furling your bodies in steaming. He feels along your stomach and down your pelvis. His fingers crawl down to your cunt and urges your feet apart with one of his. He rubs you until you gasp.

He pulls his mouth from yours as tiny wisps puff from your mouth. You shake at the buzzing thrum of his touch. You don’t want to feel but you feel everything. He’s stealing that from you. Using you any way he likes.

And you let him. That’s your job. That’s what you agreed to.

He shifts back, coolness filling the space between your bodies as his hand slips from your cunt. He grasps your thigh and lowers himself to his knees behind you. You let out a strangled noise as he grips your hips and leads you backwards.

“Put your hands on the wall, pet,” he demands.

Obedience. That’s your only skill. You take orders. You do what you’re told. You do what’s expected.

He trails his hand around the back of your leg as he bends you at an angle. He keeps his other hand firmly around your hip as he plays with you, swiping up and down your folds, poking and prodding and swirling. He stops along your entrance and you clench as he delves into you.

One finger he presses his thumb to your clit. He rocks his hand, quickly stirring your pleasure. Then another finger, the strain making you whimper. Your fingers curl against the tile and your thighs quake. He pushes into you, over and over, until you’re panting wildly.

As if he senses you teetering on the precipice, he pulls his fingers from you. You quiver as the emptiness tamps the rising swell. He edges you back further so you bend deeper, keeping your palms to the wall. His hand swerves back around the front of your leg and he glides between your folds once more.

Something tickles against your cunt from behind and suddenly a warmth mingles with your own heat. You squeal as you realises what he’s doing. He buries his face into you from behind, tilting your hips as he sloppily laps at you, replacing his fingers with his tongue. The coil in you twists back into place.

Oh god. It’s even better. You’ve never felt like this before. Hot and cold at the same time, shaky and willowy, unable to think as you’re swept away completely. You close your eyes, throwing your head back as you arch your spine, welcoming him.

He groans and growls as he drinks you up, pushing you closer and closer, fluttering his fingers against you between the flick of his tongue. Then, all once, he stops. You’re there, ready to take the plunge, ready to dive into the sheer pleasure coursing through you like a river, and he just stops?

“Say my name,” he nips your bottom, “say it when you cum.”

You gulp, “Loki..” you utter uncertainly.

His only assurance is him diving back into you. His tongue furiously flicks and swirls and laps and begs for more. You feel your slickness smearing across his lips, flowing onto his tongue, and that adds to the vibrant effect of his eager tending. You choke and gasp and let the rise overcome you.

“Lo… Lo…” you quake as your insides knot, “Lo…ki.” You puff and whine as it all erupts, “Loki!”

Your thighs tremble as he purrs through your orgasm. He delights in you pouring yourself into him, surrendering to him as you stand on your toes, leaning into the wall to keep yourself from collapsing. But he doesn’t stop. Not this time. Even as you're ready to scream and slap him away.

He keeps going. He keeps going even though you can’t bear it. He’ll keep going and you’ll let him. That’s the deal. Your body is his but your mind is your own. You’ll just do your best not to think too much.

#loki #dark loki #dark!loki #loki x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series #au #maid au #dirty work #avengers #mcu #marvel #thor

[outsideratheart]

Goodbye, Hello (Alexia Putellas x reader)

A/N: Chapter 4 of The Legacy Series. Now the story can really begin.

Ajax was home, the players and staff were your family yet as you stand in the tunnel at the stadium named after your father for the first time you cannot help but think that in another world that would have been the first of many. Oh how you wished he could see you play on the field that meant so much to him. Would he proud of you? You’d like to think so.

Meanwhile the players of Barcelona have a day off in Portland between their games for the WICC cup. They had naturally split into groups much like they do on any away trip but Alexia noticed something as she bumped into a couple of her team mates wandering the unfamiliar city; two were missing, Lieke and Aitana. As far as she was aware the two of them wasn’t close enough to do something together so it sparked her curiosity. The captain convinces Jenni, Leila, Mapi and Patri to go back to hotel to get them, she didn’t want them to waste their day in the hotel room. What she didn’t expect was to see Aitana walking the hallway donning a red & white football shirt. As she get closer to the young midfielder she recognises the Ajax shirt with your last name on.

“Aitana” Alexia voice makes her jump.

“What are you doing here”

It didn’t sound like a question and her face had the same expression a young child does when they’re caught doing something they shouldn’t.

“I could ask you the sa—“

“Aitana hurry up, it’s about to kick off”

The door opens to reveal Lieke wearing an identical shirt to Aitana.

“What is? Who’s playing?” Mapi asks slightly confused as to why her team mates would rather stay in the hotel instead of exploring.

“Ajax” Lieke says with a obvious tone whilst pointing to the badge on her shirt.

“And why are we watching Ajax?” Patri added.

Aitana and Lieke shared a look. What which said ‘We know something you don’t and we don’t know if we can tell you’.

The secret they had been keeping for the past couple of days would be sure to bring a smile to their captain’s face but you had sworn them to secrecy. Lieke only found out because she had visited you in Amsterdam before going back to Barcelona and your mum let it slip. Aitana found out straight from the horses mouth when she was invited to a Cruyff foundation event in Barcelona, imagine the shock when she saw you there. Afterwards you told her about your decision and she pinky promised that she wouldn’t tell a soul.

“She’s playing for them isn’t she?” The devastation in Alexia’s voice was clear. She truly thought that you had played your last game for Ajax and after your talk in Ibiza she was almost certain you would soon be a Barcelona player but now she had doubts.

Lieke only nodded in fear that she would let it slip if she were to open her mouth.

You walked proudly out of the tunnel as you wore the captain’s armband one last time. As you line up with the rest of the team you spot your mother, two brothers, sister-in-law, niece and nephew in the crowd. It takes every ounce of strength not to break there and then. The past couple of days had taken a lot out of you, tears included and up until this moment you thought you had no tears left to cry, oh how wrong you were.

After you shook hands with the Feyenoord captain you walk to your position. You were in the zone, that is until you hear the entire stadium break out into applause. When you turn around you see that both teams have left you to walk to the middle of the pitch alone. The fans were showing their appreciation and it was killing you. The game was a farewell and the fans knew it even though nothing official had been announced. It was set up as a friendly but it was also against Feyenoord, the club’s rival and it just so happened to be your favourite fixture of the season.

You really did enjoy the next 90 minutes and scoring at John Cruyff area will be something you would never forget. Truthfully, you wasn’t sure how to feel. Should you be happy for the career you have had at the club or should you be sad for leaving, the latter hit you like a tone of bricks.

Your coach calls you over to the sidelines where you see your family waiting. There was two frames shirts resting on stands. You joined the women’s team when it was first established in 2012 and you would leave being the highest capped player as well as the clubs top goal scorer, the two shirts represented these achievements.

Alexia couldn’t believe the scene unfolding on the screen in front on her.

“She’s leaving?” Alexia asked Lieke without taking her eyes of the screen, you had her full attention.

“What does it look like?”

The TV showed you sobbing in your brother arms. You and Alexia had talked about the difficulties that came with moving to Barcelona but she never once stopped to think about what it meant for you to leave Amsterdam.

“Are you crying?”

Alexia feels a tear fall down her cheek, one that she quickly wipes as she thinks Mapi is talking to her and she isn’t ready to be teased again.

“Lieke you’re crying”

She was in the clear. The Dutch woman was the one bound to be teased.

“You wouldn’t understand. You don’t know her like I do”

But I want to. This is what Alexia thinks but doesn’t say.

“Aitana’s going to lose her number” Jenni says.

“No I’m not. She’s already told me that she doesn’t want it” Aitana only realises what she had said when it’s too late.

This is enough pull Alexia’s attention from watching you give a speech, one which she doesn’t understand but still she hangs on every word.

“What do you mean she has already told you” Alexia questions her team mate who clearly knows more than what she’s leading on.

“I didn’t say that” Aitana wishes she could take it back.

“Yes you did. Y/N told you her decision didn’t she?”

“You’ll have to wait till Monday to find out” upon realising she was digging herself a deeper hole, Aitana comes up with an excuse to leave the room knowing had broken her promise without directly breaking her promise.

“Lieke?” Alexia changes tactics. If Aitana knew something, your best friend definitely did.

“You must have said something right in Ibiza”

She didn’t confirm it but she didn’t have to. It wasn’t like you and Alexia talked about you moving to Arsenal in detail that night. She wished that she could press fast forward on her life. It was only Friday, meaning still had three days before she would find out officially that you had chosen to follow in your father’s footsteps. In three days you would be announced as a Barcelona player, the Blaugrana shirt would once again have Cruyff on the back.

When Monday came around the team entered the facility with an extra pep in their step, all eyes glued to the locker room door. Every person that entered who wasn’t you was met with a look of disappointment. It is only when Lluis walks in does the elephant in the room get discussed.

“By the way your faces dropped when you saw it was me, I assume you know what is happening today or more appropriately who is signing for us today. Given what this means to the club the announcement will be made over at Camp Nou, not here”

“But then she’ll be coming here, right?” Alexia tried her best to mask her disappointment but failed miserably.

“Not today. She has media, several photoshoots and a meet & great at the stadium store”

Alexia knew that this wasn’t what you wanted. The club was making the most of having a Cruyff back at Barcelona and they didn’t stop the think the toll that it would have on you, it was a business at the end of the day.

Several hours later, training had finished for the day. Lieke was in the shower when her phone starting to ring, a call which she obviously missed yet the person of the other line didn’t give up. After the fifth missed call Alexia grabs the phone with the intention of giving it to the Dutch but she accidentally sees who the caller was.

Danny Cruyff 5 Missed Calls.

A small panic formed in her gut. Why was your mother calling Lieke and why was she so persistent. Had something happened to you?

That panic didn’t lessen when she handed the phone to Lieke whose face must have been a mirror to her own. She immediately calls your mother back.

“Hoi” “Natuurlijk” “Ik laat haar jou bellen”

Alexia’s Dutch was practically none existing. Lieke has tried teaching her some phrases during away games but the only things she could understand was hello which didn’t answer her unasked question; were you ok?.

“Is she ok?” Alexia asked. She didn’t need to say your name for Lieke to understand who she talking about.

“Apparently the press conference got a little bit out of hand. They were asked not to ask too many questions about Johan but there was one Marca journalist who didn’t stop pushing. Now Y/N won’t answer any of Jordi, Luuk or Danny’s calls. I said I’d go round to their house after I finish here”

“Are none of her family here with her?”

“No. Y/N knows what this will bring up for them and her so she asked them not to come but promised they could be at the first home game” Lieke pauses when she sees the look of worry on her captain’s face “Would you like to come with me?”

“Where?”

“To see her”

Alexia nods her head eagerly as a grin spreads from ear to ear.

Lieke asks that Alexia not mention the visit to the rest of the team but in the end it isn’t Alexia that lets it slip. Aitana can tell what the two of them are up to when the rush to pack up their things and leave without being noticed. The small spaniard asks if she can go with them as well only she says it a little too loud. Before Lieke has the chance to answer her, several other players ask to go with them. Their argument; you were now part of the team and this team always looks out for their own.

“She is going to hate this” Lieke says but still she agrees silently hoping that your habit of wanting to being alone in these moments is no longer a thing.

“I can tell them that they can’t come” Alexia is ready to do whatever is needed.

“No, let them come. Truth is I don’t know what to say to her. Maybe one of them can cheer her up” Lieke pointed to were Leila had Patri in a chokehold whilst Mapi filmed them for some reason.

Now you wouldn’t say you hated the house in Barcelona but there was a reason why you tended to stay in a hotel whenever you visited the city. It was the home your Mother and Father built, it has their presence everywhere whilst the house in Amsterdam was more your style. You had asked your mother if you couldn’t redecorate but she said no.

You were staring aimlessly in the garden when you heard the intercom go off letting you know someone was at the gate. Now it could be one of two people, your manager and Lieke, both of them knew the code so you were a bit hesitant as you looked at the security camera. It’s safe to say you didn’t expect who you saw but you let them in anyways.

Your mother raised to be a good host so you greated them at the door before they had the chance to knock or ring the bell. Looking in the mirror that was hung above the table in the foyer you hated how obvious it was that you had been crying but when you welcomed your team mates none of them mentioned it.

It seemed that you were having some kind of team night because they had brought Pizza which you wasn’t against. You hadn’t eaten all day and you wasn’t in the mood to cook.

“Call your mother” Lieke smacked you playfully before making herself at home. She knew where everything was so you left her to get plates, glasses and whatever else they needed.

Alexia stayed behind. A photo hanging on the wall having caught her attention. It was one of the family when your dad played his last game as Barcelona manager.

“It’s one of my favourite photos” your presence made her jump.

“Lo siento”

“Don’t be. I’m pretty sure Pina and Patri are trying to take a selfie with one of his shirts” You pointed to where the young players where subtly trying and family to take a photo with one of your dad’s framed Barcelona shirts.

“I’ll tell them to stop” Alexia tries to walk off but you pull her back.

“It’s ok” Truth is you liked that they were being appreciated, you barely gave them a second look.

For the next couple of hours, you and your new team mates sat in the garden eating pizza and telling all kind of football tales. You understood what Alexia meant when she said the team was a family. You had only been a Barcelona player for a few hours yet you already felt part the family. You knew the biggest challenges were yet to come but in this moment you knew you made the right decision.

It wasn’t necessarily late but the team had been at training all day and you could see the girls were getting tired. Lieke must have picked up on it too because she suggested they head home.

“Wait! Before we go” Patri stood up, a glass of water in hand “Welcome to Barcelona, to Y/N” everyone cheers in your honour “And to having a Cruyff back in Barcelona”

This didn’t get the same response from you but you knew that Patri was coming from a good place.

Alexia surprisingly offered to stay and back clean. The reason why is was surprising is because there was nothing left to clean, everyone had tidied up after themselves.

“We better get started because as you can see this place is a mess”

“Ok so maybe I didn’t stay to clean up”

“No” you say sarcasticly. Your tone causes Alexia to chuckle but it is more so to cover up her shyness.

“I thought maybe I could show you a few places, if you’re not too tired” Alexia never forgot the conversation you two shared that night in Ibiza and she fully intended to show you what the city had to offer, she wanted to show you her Barcelona.

Truth is you were exhausted mentally which made doing anything except from laying of the sofa a chore. Then again this is Alexia, you did want to get to know her more and you knew you wouldn’t get the chance to once the season started.

“Ok but I can’t be out too long. You may or may not have heard but I’ve just signed for a new team and I’d like to impress them at training tomorrow”

“I’m already impressed” Alexia whispers to herself.

Barcelona was a different city at time. The street were emptier but the city couldn’t be more alive. You may have done everything in your power to stay away from it but you could understand why it is loved by so many. You tried to look at the sights with a fresh set of eyes, you wanted to make new memories and tonight those would be made with Alexia.

“Is there anywhere you want to go?” Alexia asks as she bumps into your shoulder.

“Can we just walk for a bit” She nods her head and guides you down her favourite streets, shows you some of her favourite buildings and points out a few restaurants that she wanted to take you to.

There were so many questions she wanted to ask you. The top of that list was are you ok but the answer was obvious. She also wanted to know what was going on in your head but then she wondered if even you had to answer to that.

“Can I ask you a question? Why isn’t your family here?” Lieke told her but she knew there was something more to it.

The way you stopped in your tracks made her instantly regret the question.

“Let’s go this way”

She doesn’t bring up the change of subject and within a few minutes she finds herself walking through the gothic quarter. She follows you through a narrow alleyway, one that she didn’t know existed.

“This is my favourite spot in Barcelona”

Alexia watches as you knock on a door that is in the centre of the wall and can be no bigger than half a meter. Then a couple of minutes later she sees a hand hold out a paper bag, one which you take in exchange for some money.

“This is the best kept secret and best cookies in Barcelona” you hold open the bag and watch as Alexia takes one. Her eyes close as she takes a bite, you knew what she was experiencing. You had been 6 when you were first brought here.

“Ay Dios Mio”

“Told you”

Alexia makes grabby hands and you give her the bag but not before taking a handful of the tiny cookies for yourself.

“Me playing here brings up a lot of emotions, not only for me but for them too”

At first the brunette doesn’t know what you’re talking about but then it hits her. You are answering her question, the one you do so subtly dodged.

“I asked them not to come”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. I guess I thought if they wasn’t here then I could have a normal day where I’m just a football player signing for a football club. It was naive of me”

“How is to be a Barcelona player?”

“Honestly, it’s amazing. I can’t wait to start this chapter of my life, I just hope it can be my chapter and not a part of his”

“Why can’t it be both? You are your father’s daughter, you can’t change that but you can embrace it and what better place to do so then here in Barcelona” Alexia spins around with her arms spread wide.

“Did they come up with that or did you?” You asked referring to the club.

“That was all me” Alexia says rather proudly.

The night passes by far too quickly. You had only intended to be out for an hour, two at max but now it was close to midnight and you knew it was time to call it a night. Even though you didn’t want too, you bid Alexia farewell and told her you would see her in the morning.

8 hours later you found yourself standing in front of the home ground which was all a short walk away from the training ground. You stared up at the sign and read it out loud.

ESTADI JOHAN CRUYFF

Your mind wanders to memories with only one man, the one you wishes was here for this.

“I thought I might find you here”

Of course, she knew where you’d be.

“Buenos dias Alexia”

“Are you ready?”

“Ready”

And ready you were. It was time to start the next chapter in your life. The years to come would define your career and change your life forever.

#legacy series #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas one shot #alexia putellas imagine #woso x reader #woso imagine #woso one shot #barcelona femeni x reader #barcelona femeni one shot #barcelona femeni imagine #espwnt imagine #espwnt x reader #espwnt one shot

[bryngmemoney]

✁FASHION FLIRT✃

Megumi Fushiguro x Reader

⭑story masterlist link

tw: su!c!d3 joke, that’s it

Writing in between texts at the end!!

🪡Chapter Three: Fashion Walk

Leaning back against your chair you stared at Nobara’s phone in her hand, Maki leaning in from her other side. “What’d he say?” you asked. Maki hummed in agreement to your statement, also curious as to find out what was going on. “He’s being annoying, i’m telling you he’s so dry,” she answered you. Nobara sighed before putting her phone down, straightening her posture and crossing her legs. “Whatever, we’re starting soon so let’s just see how he does.” Unlocking her phone, Maki replied, “I wonder if he even practiced for this.”

Soon enough you heard Gojo’s voice begin to speak, looking up at how in the center of lined up chairs in front of you, a black table was placed. There he sat in the middle holding the microphone into which he was speaking to. Utahime, the other fashion teacher, sat to his right, always looking more professional than him. To his left was Suguru Geto, you didn’t take any of his classes but knew he was a well liked film teacher and apparently Yuta’s favorite. “Alright fashion students! We will be beginning the model auditions now. We ask that you remain quite and respectful throughout the show. Remember that these people are here for you, so please show your appreciation of them.” he leaned the microphone over to his right, “Anything you’d like to add Utahime?” he asked while holding his signature smirk. “Oh um…” she began, looking startled and caught off guard. “Good luck.. choosing your models.” Gojo took the microphone back, “Alright thank you for those motivational words miss! Now Geto here will be filming the auditions and as promised before, all designers will have the chance to look at the headshots and filmed photography after the audition, because we will be providing these we ask that you guys refrain from filming anything on personal devices. I think that’s all, soooo with that being said.. let’s begin!”

You watched the models file out one out a time, with a good amount of space between. A mixture of experienced and beginners. You wrote down the numbers displayed at the front of their shirt of the ones that caught your eye, however leaving the first slot blank as none had quite convinced you yet, well that is until he walked out. It was him, the guy you handed the poster too, Megumi Fushiguro! As he walked out you took in his features, how could Nobara call him ugly?? Just as you had written his number and looked up, you met his gaze for a second.

Author’s Note: quite a bit of writing on this one, hope it wasn’t that crazy of an amount, also hope you guys liked this chapter!!!

also apologies if some of the @ on the tags list don’t work i think tumblr was acting up, but i tried to fix it lemme know if it worked pls

Taglist below, feel free to comment or dm me to be added!!

TAGLIST

@iridescentrays @gumimegz @maya-maya-56 @mamafly @lunavixia @swissy23 @coltsgf @m00nglad3-mp3 @etsukis @xosren @qtnfer

#megumi x reader #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk art college au #jjk megumi #jjk smau #jjk college au #jujutsu megumi #jujutsu kaisen megumi #megumi fushiguro #smau #megumi x you #gojo satoru #geto suguru #nobara kugisaki #yuta okkotsu #yuji itadori #maki zenin #non curse au

[die-pink-maus]

A Weekend in Vienna 🇦🇹

While vacationing in Germany, Chantelle’s (OC) best friend, Adrian (also an OC), books an impromptu trip to Vienna to visit extended family. Chantelle decides to join her for the last few days of her trip, where she meets an interesting friend of Adrian’s family who offers to show the two around the city for the weekend🤭

TW: Pretty much none, not for this chapter anyway, but things will get 🌶️spicy🌶️ in the next parts. Also there is an age gap between OC and König, she is 25 and he is about 36-37.

CW: FemOCs, female pronouns used, while both characters are technically OCs please feel free to imagine them however you’d like, ultimately the main character is the reader, I just didn’t want to use “Y/N” so I gave them names 🙈

Word Count: 1,516

*DISCLAIMER*

This is my first time EVER writing any kind of fan fiction so please go easy on me 😭 if you like where things are going, likes and reblogs would be greatly appreciated! If you’d like to see anything in particular in the next part or part(s), I’d love to hear it!

This version of König is based on the above interpretation drawn by @lettaniko (I hope you don’t mind me using it! I absolutely love this drawing it’s perfect! 🫶🏼)

I like a nice build up to the smut so if you like to get right into it this is probably not going to be for you…but if you can wait I it out I promise it’ll be worth it 😂

Enjoy! 💋

7:30am. There’s approximately 30 minutes before my train departs for Vienna, and I still haven’t reached the train station yet. I scrambled as I dashed out of my hotel room, hoping I’d left the place in a somewhat decent state and I hadn’t forgotten anything valuable as got into the elevator. I’ve been exploring Munich for the past two weeks and I’ve been having the absolute time of my life. Although traveling alone can be quite scary, oddly enough, I’ve never felt more at home. Munich is such a vibrant city, filled with all kinds of exciting things to do and I’ve met so many incredible people, it’s definitely been the experience of a lifetime. To say that I am not looking forward to going back home to Vancouver would be an understatement, but all good things must come to an end. I’d spent about a year and a half learning to speak German, and promised myself that I would plan a trip in celebration of achieving fluency, so here I am! Now, Vienna wasn’t initially on my list of places to visit when I decided to come to Germany, but my best friend, Adrian, ended up booking a spur of the moment flight last week to visit extended family in Austria and suggested I come hangout with her during the last few days of my trip. Seeing as its only a 3-4hr train ride from Munich, I figured why the hell not! I’ve heard Vienna is beautiful, and Im at all not opposed to exploring another city.

Upon arrival at the train station in Vienna I was greeted by Arian, excitedly jumping up and down while holding up a large white sign that read “Willkommen in Wien, Schlampe!” I rolled my eyes and shook my head, laughing as I got off the train and ran over to her, tackling her in a tight embrace as she laughed hysterically. “Did you have to let the whole station know that I’m a bitch or…?”

“Honestly, they should’ve known the moment they saw you.” She said jokingly. “How was the ride over?” She asked.

“Amazing, I haven’t slept that well in years. It also didn’t feel like a 4 hour train ride.”

“Trains in out here are quite quick so I wouldn’t be surprised if it somehow took less time. They definitely shit on the ones we have back home.”

“Oh for sure.” I agreed as we began walking over to the car.

“So a family friend of ours just came back from a mission in the states, he’s in the military bee tee dubs —“

“Yeah kinda pieced that together when you said ‘mission’.” I chuckled.

“I don’t drive out here so he’s gonna give us a ride back to my aunts, cool?”

“Sounds good.”

“He’s also a lot more familiar with Vienna than I am, so he offered to show us around a bit later on this evening.” Aw how nice of him. Knowing Adrian, the first place she’ll want to be taken to is the nearest bar, that girl can drink! If there’s one thing I’ve learned from my time in Germany, and my 10 years of friendship with Adrian, it’s that Europeans love their liquor. There are people from all parts of Europe in Germany and that’s one thing that remains quite consistent across the board. I also love my liquor, which is probably why I ended up fitting in so well.

We finally arrived at the car and opened the trunk to begin loading all of my luggage inside. I’d brought a small carryon suitcase, a duffle bag, as well as a large suitcase that was full of clothes I’d over packed from home, and a bunch of other clothes and souvenirs I’d bought in Munich. “Okay this one’s gonna be a tad heavy.” I warned as Adrian grabbed hold of the handle on the top. I reached forward to try to help her lift, but neither of us could manage the weight. “I got it.” His voice was low, but gentle. He had an accent, but it wasn’t overwhelming or harsh, nor did it make anything he said hard to understand. I wasn’t expecting to see the person I saw when I’d finally caught a glimpse of him…I don’t think I’ve ever seen a man like this in my entire life. Adrian and I stepped back as he grabbed hold of the suitcase, lifting it with absolute ease, as if it were light as a feather. His arm muscles bulged within the confines of his olive green long sleeved shirt as he tossed the suitcase inside the trunk. My heart began to race, It felt as if I was watching him move in slow motion. “Easy peasy.” He smirked as he turned around and looked down at me, his dazzling dark blue eyes awash with amusement at Adrian and I’s prior struggle. Jesus Christ…This man is an absolute unit. He’s gotta be at least 6 foot 7, if not taller. He’s incredibly easy on the eyes in a rough and rugged kinda way — a nice low trimmed beard, medium length dark brown hair, and a smile that is captivatingly dangerous to say the least. His presence alone exudes a confidence that causes me to grow weak in the knees. “I’m König,” he smiled knowingly as he stretched his hand out towards me. I know I’m definitely not the first woman to look at him the way I am. Even though I’m trying to keep my composure, it’s very clear that he can see right through it. “And you must be Chantelle?” He asked, eyes slowly roaming about my frame from head to toe. He bites his lip slightly as they return to my gaze, suggesting so much without saying any words at all. “I — yes.” I blushed, sheepishly brushing my hair behind my ear as I shook his hand. “Nice to meet you.” He said. “Oh yeah, König Chantelle, Chantelle König.” Adrian yelled from the backseat. He laughed and shook his head as he closed the trunk.

We arrived at Adrian’s aunts house about 45 minutes later. König helped us load all of my things into the foyer before letting us know he’d be coming back in a few hours to take us out to this bar that he and a few of his buddies on his task force frequent whenever they’re home. I’ve been thinking about him ever since he left — those mysterious blue eyes, the way he slightly bites his lower lip just before laughing at something ridiculous Adrian has said, the way his arm muscles swell beneath his shirt with the slightest movement…God, he’s sexy. I could think of a million different ways I’d want him to ruin me. The thought alone of being trapped beneath his large brawny frame writhing in pleasure as he thrusts into me over and over has me clenching around nothing. Though I’m not usually one for a one time fling, I have a feeling he’d be able to convince me. “So, you wanna tell me what all of that was about?” Adrian asked as she helped me settle into the guest room. “What are you talking about?” I asked. “Since when are you a shy girl?” She giggled. Sigh. I figured she was referencing my unusual silence during the car ride over here. “He’s hot as fuck but I’ve never seen you like that before.”

“Ugh!” I groaned as I covered my face with a pillow. She’s right. I’m not very easily intimidated. I’m quite the confident woman and I ensure everyone in the room knows it, but this was different. Almost as if our energies were fighting for dominance, and mine didn’t stand a chance. “Hey if it’s any consolation, my jaw dropped the first time I saw him without his mask too.” Mask?

“Mask?” I asked.

“Yes…the last time I was here he was on base training recruits, so I’d see him often in full tactical gear. He’s a snipper, so he wears a mask to hide his face in the field. I mean, that was hot too, but in a Ghostface kinda way”

I couldn’t help but laugh at the comparison, but I was curious to see what his entire ensemble looked like. “How old is he?” I asked.

“I think he’s in his mid to late 30s? I’m honestly not too sure, and it doesn’t matter to me either way.” She winked. “I was sensing some unspoken vibes between the two of you in the car though. Don’t think I didn’t see both of you stealing glances at each other every now and then.” She smirked.

“Stop,” I scoffed. “A man like that is definitely not single, and even if he is…I don’t know” I blushed. “I didn’t see him looking at me..”

“K well I see everything, he definitely likes what he sees, and clearly the feeling is mutual on your end as well. Looks like tonight will be interesting.”

“Nothing’s gonna happen, Adrian.” I laughed as I rolled my eyes. Nothing’s gonna happen…right?

PART II 👉🏽 A Weekend In Vienna 🇦🇹: PART II

PART III 👉🏽 A Weekend In Vienna 🇦🇹: PART III

#cod mw2 #cod modern warfare #cod x reader #cod mwii #cod mw3 #könig #konig cod #konig x reader #konig mw2 #konig call of duty #konig smut #könig cod #könig mw2 #könig call of duty #könig x reader #könig smut #könig fanfiction #konig x you #konig modern warfare #konig

[dean-winchester-is-a-warrior]

The Dangers of Hope Ch. 6

Series Summary: When Y/N shows up at Camp Chitaqua with her little girl in tow, her bloodshot eyes leave no doubt that she's infected. Or is she? Everything Dean has come to know for certain over the last five hellish years, is about to be challenged.

Pairings/Characters in the series: Endverse!Dean x Reader, Emma (OFC), Castiel, Sam Winchester, Lucifer, Michael, Zachariah, Risa, Johnston (OMC), Patrick (OMC), Theresa (OFC), other survivors and soldiers.

Series Explicit 18 +/Warnings: Show level violence, some gore, angst, smut, fluff all the usual for a series of mine. ❤️ Endverse!Dean (that's a warning for his anger and callousness as well as his extreme hotness. 😁) Each chapter will have their own specific warnings.

Chapter Warnings: Nothing major.

Word Count: 3,308

A/N: So, I've had this idea for quite a while. Basically since I watched The Last of Us. I loved Pedro in the role of Joel, but I kept thinking how incredible Jensen would have been. Which then made me think of how amazing he was as Endverse!Dean which then led me to this idea. Lol! I've stolen the premise of Ellie's storyline from TLOU, but made her a grown up, a reader insert, and a love interest for Dean.

If you've never seen TLOU, don't worry - you don't need to have seen it to understand this story. 😊

I've taken some liberties with the Endverse in my story, changed a few things from canon, but kept lots of things too.

I sincerely hope you enjoy the story. It will be ten chapters and I will do my very best to post one chapter every weekend. ❤️

A/N 2: Hope you enjoy this chapter! I'm getting excited to finish up the series. Four chapter left and so far it seems like the story is staying on track, and it shouldn't go over. (But you never know! 😁) Thanks so much to everyone who has been reading, liking, commenting and reblogging this series! It means SO much! ❤️

Series Master List || Main Master List || Tag Lists

The dividers below were created by @saradika

Y/N felt her heart beat triple time as she watched Dean’s face return to the stony granite it had been when she’d first come to camp. Over the last couple of months she'd begun to see him soften slightly; there were even a few moments where he’d seemed on the verge of smiling. His eyes had eventually lost their frosty hardness, and their look of perpetual suspicion.

But both were back with a vengeance now.

She shook her head at him again and tried to understand what he was talking about. “What kind of psychic am I?” She asked, the question conjuring up an urge to laugh. The idea of her having psychic abilities was laughable to her. But she didn’t think Dean would appreciate the humor around it. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Dean. I haven’t done anything, and I certainly have no psychic powers.”

Dean said nothing, just shuffled sideways towards the door without  taking his eyes off of her. Y/N took a few steps towards him, but froze when his hand dropped to the pistol on his thigh and he hissed at her. “Stay back.”

She felt Emma come up and hide behind her leg and her daughter's renewed fear made anger start to burn in Y/N’s chest. In the last few weeks that Dean had been coming to dinner, Emma had been gradually losing her fear of him, offering him shy smiles and even bringing him one of her books and asking him to read to her. 

But now Y/N could feel her tremble slightly and frustration flared in her. What was Dean doing? And why? Because her mother had died in a fire when she was a baby? What kind of logic was that? Where was all this insanity coming from?

Dean walked to the entrance of the cabin and called to Patrick. When the soldier appeared in the doorway Dean spoke to him brusquely.

“Go get Castiel.”

Patrick looked back and forth between Dean and Y/N and frowned at the obvious tension. “Sir?” He questioned.

“Now.” Dean said with finality. As the man turned to leave Dean spoke again. “And send Risa in here.”

Dean continued to stare at Y/N, keeping his attention intensely fixated on her, the way he’d done during those first few days she’d been there. When Risa came into the cabin she frowned; like Patrick, she could clearly sense the hostility in the room.

When Dean saw her he nodded towards Emma. “Take the kid.”

Panic suffused Y/N and she began shaking her head. Emma clutched tightly to her leg and began crying and whimpering softly. She shook her head and buried her face in Y/N’s hip. “No, mommy.” She hiccuped softly.

“Take her.” Dean said quietly but firmly. There was a pause for a moment as Risa’s eyes lingered on Emma and Y/N before she shook her head.

“No.”

Dean turned his head slowly to look at his soldier, his expression incredulous and furious at the same time. 

“Excuse me?” He said softly, and Y/N felt a shiver run down her spine. 

Risa looked away for a moment, clearly intimidated by Dean's anger. But when she looked back at him, her brow was crinkled and she still questioned his demand. 

“Why?” She asked.

“Because I gave you an order, soldier.” was Dean's softly spoken reply.

Risa stared at Dean a moment longer before she took a deep breath and then exhaled loudly and forcefully, turning and walking towards Y/N and Emma.

Emma started crying in earnest and Y/N knew that no matter what, she had to try and ease her daughter’s fear. She got down on her haunches and smoothed back Emma’s fly away hair. “Oh baby, it’s okay.” She smiled brightly at her, desperately trying to erase all her own fear and anxiety about what was happening.

“Dean and I are just gonna be here for a little while trying to figure out some boring grown up stuff.” Y/N’s happy smile seemed to be fooling Emma slightly because her tears were slowing and she sniffled.

Y/N kissed her cheek. “Why don’t you let Risa take you to see Keisha and Julianne. It will be so much more fun to play with them for a while, rather than staying here and listening to boring grownups talking. And I’ll come pick you up later, okay? I promise.”

She felt awful making a promise she wasn’t sure she could keep, but she wanted to believe she would be picking her up later, and she wanted Emma to lose the look of panic in her eyes. 

She nodded towards Risa. “Go on now, and have fun playing. I’ll see you soon.” She kissed her forehead and gave her another bright smile. 

Emma nodded, still obviously unsure, but willing to believe what Y/N was telling her.

Y/N kept her happy smile in place until Emma was out the door and then her mask dropped and she looked at Dean, her eyes accusing.

“Why are you doing this?” She asked quietly.

Before he could answer, Castiel walked through the door. Like the others, he seemed to notice the tension immediately and questioned it. 

“Dean? What’s going on?”

Dean motioned for Y/N to move backwards. “Sit down.” He said, with a gesture towards the folding chair she’d been sitting on to read the story. When she did, Dean turned his head towards Castiel, but never took his eyes off of her. 

“I know why she’s immune.”

Y/N felt her stomach lurch. “You do?” She asked, some of her anger burning away from pure shock. It was the last thing she’d expected him to say. Though she still had no idea what this had to do with her mother’s death.

But evidently it was connected, because the angel’s eyes widened in disbelief as Dean continued. “Her mother died in a fire when she was a baby.”

It was to her that Castiel looked for an answer. “Is that true, Y/N?” She nodded. “My God.” 

“Will someone please explain what my mother dying has to do with anything?” Y/N asked with immense frustration.

But the men ignored her for the moment. Dean was finally looking at the angel properly and he nodded at the questions in his blue eyes. 

“Yeah, she’s a psychic kid. She’s immune, just like Sam was.”

“Who is Sam?” Y/N asked, but was ignored again.

Castiel was shaking his head. “Maybe…” He looked back towards her briefly. “Maybe it’s just a coincidence.” 

Dean scoffed. “Come on Cas! This is way too big a coincidence to be…coincidental.”

Cas nodded reluctantly and then frowned. “But, if she's psychic...then what’s her gift?”

Both men turned to stare at her, and Dean spoke softly. “That’s a real good question. Because she could be doing anything to us, mind controlling us, or manipulating us to only see what she wants us to.”

Y/N finally did let out a bark of laughter. “Are you insane? You think I’m mind controlling you? If I had the power of mind control, I’d definitely make you be nicer, or I’d make you let me go, because this whole thing is ridiculous! And you still haven’t explained why on earth you think I’m psychic and why my mother’s death is involved.”

Dean stared at her for a long time, and Cas just watched him. Finally Dean spoke and his voice was calm and even, as though he was just telling her a story while they sat around her table eating dinner.

“Ten years before you were born, your mother or father made a deal with a yellow-eyed demon. They got something they desperately wanted and he got permission to enter their house. When you were six months old he came into your room, slit himself open and bled into your mouth. Your mother likely interrupted him somehow, and he killed her and burnt the place down around her.”

Y/N felt her stomach turn at Dean’s words. He had to be insane, there was no way it could be true. Demon blood? A demon killed her mother? She shook her head.

“How on earth could you possibly know any of this?”

“Because it’s exactly what happened to my mom, and my brother. The demon fed him his blood, killed my mom, and when Sam turned 22 he started having psychic visions. And he wasn’t the only psychic kid. There were a bunch of them, and without fail every single one of them had powers and every single one of them went bad.”

His jaw clenched and he folded his arms over his chest. “So, if you’re gonna sit there and try and tell me that you’re the only one that never had the blood take hold, the only one who managed to avoid being triggered when you turned 22? Well, then I know you’re lying. So, I’ll ask you one more time.”

His eyes were chips of ice once again. “What can you do? And what have you done already?”

Y/N blew out a puff of exasperation. “I can’t do anything, do you hear me? I am not psychic! I have no powers!”

Cas stepped forward, putting himself between the two of them. “Okay, Y/N, have you ever felt something, something that made you different from other people? Like,” he snapped his fingers, “the ability to connect easily with people maybe? You seem to make friends quickly, people respond to you.” 

Y/N rolled her eyes. “So being a nice person makes me a psychic now?”

Cas shook his head. “No, but maybe it’s more than you being nice, maybe people can’t help but like you. It could be involuntary on both their part and yours. Like some sort of psychic charisma”

Cas seemed to like his idea, his expression saying that he thought he’d figured it out.

But Y/N was again shaking her head. “No, look, that’s not true. I’ve had lots of people not like me, I’ve had people try to kill me in my sleep just to steal my blanket, I’ve had men attack me just for…well, for being a woman. And I can promise you I didn’t get away from those people by smiling at them and asking nicely.”

Y/N felt the old fears rise in her as she remembered the panic and terror of those moments and so many more like them. To think that she had some kind of mind control or psychic abilities and hadn’t used them then, was laughable.

Cas looked slightly defeated and Dean pushed him aside. “The fact is though, that you could be lying through your teeth, you could be saying anything to knock us off your scent.”

Y/N scowled at him and then stood up. Dean stepped back, and yanked Cas back by his shoulder. “Sit down.” He ordered her but she shook her head.

“This is ridiculous, Dean. You have to know it is.” She took a step towards him. “What about our…our friendship? What about what happened last night?”

Dean’s eyes just got colder and his voice was deep and demanding. “I said, sit down. Now!”

“Dean.” Y/N began and stepped closer again, reaching out to him. But she stopped dead and dropped her hands to her sides as Dean pulled his gun from its holster in the span of a breath. 

“I said get back, and sit down.” He said, slow and deliberate.

Y/N looked at the gun pointed at her, looked at Dean holding it, his hand not wavering an inch, and she was suddenly, unbearably sad. She stared at him and knew her heartbreak was plastered on her face, she was bad at concealing emotions. 

She nodded slowly and moved back to sit in the chair. She had lied to Emma; she wouldn’t be picking her up tonight.

***

The night passed just as her first night in camp had; with her sleeping lightly, troubled by disturbing dreams and waking to find Dean watching her almost unblinkingly. He took her to the outhouses on his own this time, and she wasn’t in chains so, that much had changed. But his hand hovering over his gun the whole way there and back definitely felt binding, and kept her locked in place just ahead of him.

When they got back to the cabin Dean walked over to the door and said something quietly to whoever was just outside. A few minutes later Theresa arrived with breakfast. She looked at Y/N back in her spot on the floor by the table leg and her young face creased in confusion.

“What’s wrong?” She asked Y/N with a look thrown at Dean.

Y/N tried to smile and put her student’s mind at ease. “Nothing, sweetie. Just trying to sort something out. Tell your mom thank you for the breakfast, but I’m not hungry. You should take that back to her so it doesn’t go to waste.”

“Eat it.” Dean’s voice rang out with authority and Theresa took a step closer to Y/N.

Y/N didn’t bother looking at him. Instead she gave Theresa a reassuring nod and the girl bent to set the tray on the ground. “It’s okay, thank you. I’ll probably be hungry later.”

But she wasn’t. She felt guilty enough about wasting food to try and swallow some down, but it just stuck in her throat and she gagged on it and spit it out. At lunch Brandy brought the food tray and she was slightly more vocal with her questions than her daughter was. 

“What the hell is going on here?” She asked Dean. “All the parents are confused and worried. They said you ordered them out of here yesterday and no one has seen Y/N since; Emma’s back with Monique.” 

She set the lunch tray on the table Y/N leaned against and bent to pick up the uneaten breakfast tray. She was looking at Y/N, but still addressing Dean when she spoke. “What’s going on?”

“It’s nothing that concerns you.” Dean answered brusquely.

Brandy stood to her full height and her large chest rose and fell with indignation. “Since when do you keep me out of the loop?”

Dean frowned at her and his voice was laced with annoyance and anger. “Since this isn’t something that requires your attention. And I’d like to know, exactly when did everyone start questioning my orders?”

Brandy shrugged, seemingly unfazed by his foreboding tone. “I guess when your orders started to seem stupid.”

Y/N’s eyes grew round, beyond impressed at the woman’s boldness and nerve. Dean seemed much less impressed by it though, staring the woman down with a furious expression. But Brandy kept his gaze and never wavered. Finally Dean spoke through gritted teeth.

“Take away the tray, and send someone else with the supper tray.”

Brandy stayed still until Dean took a step towards her and yelled, “That is an order!”

Brandy shook her head, but turned towards the door as she answered. “Don’t forget, boss, not all of us are your soldiers. Some of us follow you because you’ve been a good leader.” She paused at the door and looked back at him. “Don’t fuck that up.”

She walked out, leaving behind an electric buzz of tension in the air. Dean turned back to her and the muscle in his jaw was still jumping. 

“Eat.”

But Y/N shook her head. “I’m not hungry.”

“Bullshit!” Dean said bitingly. “You haven’t eaten since lunch yesterday. You have to be hungry. I don’t know what kind of hunger strike, sympathy ploy you’re going for here, but it’s not gonna work. Now, eat!” He ended on a shout and something snapped inside Y/N. 

She jumped to her feet and yelled back. “This isn’t a sympathy ploy, you bloody dumbass! I can’t eat the food because it tastes disgusting to me and it chokes me. My stomach is in knots and I feel sick! And do you know why that is? Because you keep threatening to kill me!”

Dean thundered towards her, stopping barely two feet from her. “Yeah, and I’m not gonna have you starve to death before I get the chance! Now eat!”

Y/N threw her arms wide. “What the hell do you care if I starve! It’ll just save you a bullet!” 

She took a deep breath, feeling herself unraveling but unable to stop. “You have me locked up in this place, again! You think I’m some kind of horrible monster. Again!” Her voice broke. “You have taken my child away from me! Again! So don’t pretend to give a shit about my fucking health and wellbeing!” She reached out to furiously smash the food tray to the ground. 

Silence descended and Y/N breathed hard and heavy through her nose, her anger carrying her through a little longer before she turned away from him and buried her face in her hands, quiet, uncontrollable sobs shaking her. 

By the time she managed to get herself under some kind of control, she turned around to see that Dean was gone. She looked around the room as though he might be hiding in plain sight, but he was nowhere to be seen.

Y/N walked over and fell down onto the chair he'd sat in all night. She felt exhausted and deflated. She wasn’t sure how long she sat there, but it felt like ages before Cas walked through the door. He looked solemn and he nodded at her. 

“Dean says that you should go.”

Y/N felt her stomach drop. “He’s kicking us out?”

Cas held up a hand. “Oh, no! Not…he didn’t say for you to go from camp. I mean that he said for you to go from here. Go get your daughter, go back to your tent. That kind of go.”

Y/N shook her head, more confused than ever. “I don’t understand. Now, suddenly he doesn’t think I’m some kind of psychic menace?”

Cas shrugged. “Psychic yes, but menace no. He said, and I quote, ‘She was pissed enough to take off my head if she could have, and she didn’t, so she can’t.’” He shook his head. “Occasionally his thought process is hard to follow.”

Y/N nodded. “Yeah, you’re telling me.”

She didn’t waste anymore time right then, though, contemplating Dean’s bizarre behavior; she was free to go and she ran to get Emma, apologizing for taking longer than she said she would to come get her.

Emma forgave her easily for not keeping her promise, relief clear in her big, deep cerulean eyes. They spent the evening cuddling in the tent; Y/N read her a dozen books and played clapping games with her until Emma’s eyes were shining again, and no more fear or worry clouded them.

At bedtime she sang her a song and Emma drifted off to sleep happily; Y/N found no such easy reprieve. She laid awake for hours trying to understand Dean and the way he thought. He’d been so angry, so sure of her wickedness and evil. And then, just like that, because she’d exploded in anger, he let her go?

How did that man’s mind work? And how did he see her now? Harmless psychic freak? Or someone he’d still have to keep a close eye on? 

She shook her head. It didn’t matter, he’d made himself perfectly clear on one thing, the relationship she’d thought they had, the friendship that she’d hoped would grow into more had meant nothing to him. The kiss they’d shared had meant nothing. 

She meant nothing. He couldn't  have acted the way he did if he cared about her at all.

She needed to remember that going forward and not let her heart get entangled so easily.

From now on, she needed to keep her distance.

Jensen RPF and Any/All Characters: @lyarr24 @lacilou @deans-spinster-witch @globetrotter28 @suckitands33 @akshi8278 @evznackles @jackles010378 @impala67rollingthroughtown @krazykelly @candy-coated-misery0731 @envyaurora95 @spnwoman @deans-baby-momma

Dean Fics Only @roonthelittlespoon920 @slamminmine @zepskies @safiyas-world

Any/All Fics Regardless of Character or Fandom: @kazsrm67 @slut-for-evans-stan @sexyvixen7 @nancymcl @waywardcheshire

Everything Incl. Fan Edits: @k-slla @leigh70 @eevvvaa @kickingitwithkirk @foxyjwls007 @notinthislife50 @roseblue373 @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @avanatural @mrsjenniferwinchester @all-alone-he-turns-to-stone @deangirl96 @hobby27

#dean winchester #endverse!dean #endverse!dean x reader #dean x reader #dean x y/n #endverse!dean x y/n #endverse #endverse!dean series #dean winchester fan fic #the dangers of hope

[naughtyneganjdm]

Naughty or Nice - Chapter 6

Summary: Beau bonds with Y/N over their similarities and it draws Negan closer to her with how good she is with his son.

Characters: Negan, the reader (OC), Beau, Erin, Maggie, Hershel, etc.

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/51464518/chapters/132277492

Warnings: Swearing, dirty talk, angst, etc.

Notes: This was a really long chapter that I broke into two and added a lot to it. So it took me a while to post this. Sorry about that. The next one should be up soon since it's already done. Thank you for reading the story. I appreciate it!

“I don’t understand,” Beau spoke up following Y/N toward the barn that he had found her at earlier with his father. After they had breakfast, his family sat together with hers at the table to plan out the next few days. Y/N took charge of the conversation and with Maggie’s back up, they planned out a lot of the things that Beau asked of Y/N when she wanted to know what he wanted to do before Christmas. Surprisingly, Hershel and the rest of the family were easy to persuade in agreeing to the plans they made. Especially after Y/N stressed that it was something Beau wanted to do.

Once they were done, Y/N had informed them that she wanted to make plans to do something with Beau a few hours after their conversation, she just had to run to the store to do a few chores first. Even though it was vague, Beau was interested in whatever she had planned so he agreed to it. With Glenn and Y/N leaving, it left a few hours between where they would be alone at the farm. Maggie took the opportunity of taking them up to the attic to go through some of her family’s old photo booklets.  So Negan, Beau, Erin and Maggie all sat together on Negan’s bed looking at the photos and listening to the stories that Maggie told. Halfway through it was pretty obvious they had gotten bored, but they were trying really hard to be nice and listen to Maggie. It was something she was excited about sharing with them, so they were giving her their full attention. Toward the end of it, Erin had fallen asleep on Negan and Beau wished he could have been able to do the same thing without looking rude. While he liked Maggie, it was hard going through a long period of time just looking at old photos.

When Erin did wake up, she asked if Maggie would be willing to take them out riding on the horses again and Maggie agreed. They tried to get Beau to go with them, but he was excited to just have some alone time after everything. Negan offered to wait for Y/N with him, but Beau assured his father he was fine. Part of him thought Negan wanted to wait it out himself, but grudgingly went along with it. Riding horses wasn’t something Beau was really interested in. He cared more so about whatever Y/N had planned for him.

When Y/N finally did show back up, she brought a pair of Shawn’s old clothes for Beau to change into. It confused him, but he didn’t question it. Now that they were walking back to the barn he had found Y/N in earlier with his dad, he didn’t know how to respond to it, “What’s with the clothes? We both look like we’re from a nineties music video.”

“You know what a nineties music video looked like?” Y/N looked back over her shoulder at Beau, amused to hear that come from him since he was so young.

“My mother showed me a lot of the things that she liked when she was younger. So yeah, I have a tape player and everything. I know my music history,” Beau noted with a shrug of his shoulders, brushing his hair back over his ear. “So what is this?”

“Patience my boy,” Y/N held her finger up, pulling open the doors of the barn and stepping aside. Allowing him to see what she had set up, Beau tipped his head to the side with his eyebrows furrowed. His dimples sank in and his hazel eyes looked to her. “Get inside before you freeze.”

“Yes ma’am,” Beau moved into the barn and it made her laugh considering she knew that Negan often responded the exact same way to her.

“I give you and your father one thing, you both have manners,” she closed the doors behind them and moved around to turn the heater on that she had set up for them. One thing she learned earlier with Negan was that if they were going to spend a significant amount of time in that barn, they were going to need some heat.

“I do my best,” Beau folded his arms out in front of his chest, eyeballing what Y/N had set up. There was a bunch of plastic tarp spread out on the ground inside of the barn and off to the sides were two large canvases resting on easels. “If the canvases weren’t here, I might think you were trying to kill me.”

“God,” she choked at his comment, realizing it probably did look like it could be that way. “I could actually see where you came up with that. I am so sorry.”

“I’m teasing you,” Beau explained with a shake of his head, stepping on the tarp hearing the sound it made beneath his feet. “If it was just the tarp, I would worry. With the two canvases set up, obviously you aren’t trying to kill me. I mean, unless you’re going to use my blood to make some kind of art piece.”

“Beau!” she couldn’t help but laugh at his thoughts when he tossed his hands up in the air, giving her an innocent expression. “You’re silly.”

“I try,” he snickered, taking a look around the barn. A long sigh fell from his lips and he rubbed his hands together in attempts to warm up since the heater hadn’t completely started working yet. “All jokes aside. What’s up with this?”

“I know this might be lame, but when I was younger, I was really into art and my emotions. I think Annette was doing her best to try to help me feel better so she would buy me all these paints and canvases,” she related to Beau who was watching her intently with his bright hazel eyes. “So whenever I was feeling depressed or stressed, I would just come out here and paint. I would try many different forms of getting the paint on the canvas. I wanted to find what felt right for me. I think most of my time was spent in here with me finding myself.”

Waving her hand out, she motioned Beau to follow her toward all of the different types of paints that she had gotten along with different brushes and items that he could use to get the paint on the canvas. Holding her hands up in the air, she sighed loudly and cleared her throat, “I see a lot of a younger me in you. So I thought maybe you would like to do something like this.”

“You’re really cool,” Beau spoke faintly and he could tell it made her happy to hear that with the way a smirk tugged at her lips. “I mean it. When I’m feeling bad, I often grab my sketchbook and just draw or write things down. I wish I would have had an art room like this where I could have gone crazy.”

“I’m sure if you asked your dad, he would do that for you,” Y/N suggested getting Beau to contemplate it, his eyebrows bouncing up when he stroked his hand over the side of his face. “Try this first. See how you like it. If you like it, maybe your dad will do something like this for you.”

“Alright,” Beau took time to consider what she was saying, gazing at all the supplies that she had set out for them. “What do you want to paint?”

“What is it that is weighing heavy on you? What do you want to paint?” she inquired, almost knowing what he was going to say, but she wanted him to be the one to make up his mind. “I want you to paint what your heart is feeling.”

“My mom. It’s always my mom,” Beau was honest with her, his hazel eyes filling with a sense of sadness. Reaching out, she caressed her hand in over his shoulder to show her support before stepping back. Even though she was connecting with Negan’s son, she didn’t want to make it too weird for him. Maybe she was worrying too much, but it was what it was. “Is that something you would really be comfortable with painting though? Your mom? I don’t want us to have a theme that is going to upset you.”

“It couldn’t hurt to try,” Y/N spoke with a shrug of her shoulders. The thing that was on her mind the most right now? Negan. But it would be strange for her to paint Beau’s father, so if his theme was his mother, she would find it in herself to paint something that she was feeling toward her own mother.

“Do you want to pick the music?” she held her phone up in the air for him after she connected it to some speakers that she had set out.

“Let’s just go with whatever you like,” Beau offered and she gave a small nod, picking one of her playlists from her phone. Setting it down on the table she had set up, she looked to Beau and saw him eyeing over the paints. “How messy can we get this?”

“I bought a lot of stuff, so as messy as you want to get this. Use as much as you want. Go crazy with it,” she replied back seeing Beau reach for a vibrant color of paint that she had picked up. Getting it open, Beau looked up at her with amusement in his features before heading over toward one of the canvases. They were facing away from each other so that way the final project could be hidden until the end. With a grunt, Beau threw the paint at the canvas making Y/N laugh out at the sound it made. The paint splattered and dripped down from the canvas. Beau’s laugh filled the air when he shrugged his shoulders.

“I thought this might be the quickest way of getting the background a certain color,” Beau explained to her, already getting splattered in paint with his clothes so she figured it was a good plan when she gave him some clothes he could easily toss away. “Are you open to talking while you work?”

“Sure,” she grabbed her supplies to get started on her painting. “I’m always willing to talk.”

“What would you have done if I would have told you that I didn’t want to do this?” Beau’s nose wrinkled, making it obvious with his expression that he was just teasing her further, but she ran with it.

“I would have tucked my tail between my legs and grabbed Glenn. Forced him to do something,” she had an answer for him, but she was hopeful that he would agree to this. “I’m glad you don’t think it’s completely lame.”

“Not at all,” Beau shook his head, sucking at his bottom lip while he spread out the paint he used to get it across the canvas. “I think you’re a very interesting person. From what little I know about you that is. You know how to set up a murder scene after all.”

“Painting…murdering someone, same thing,” she snickered noticing the way that Beau smiled at her. “I think painting can get messier sometimes. Especially when you feel passionate about the piece.”

“Or if you’re just being lazy and you want to get something done fast,” Beau suggested, stepping away from the canvas to look down over himself. Amusement flooded his young features knowing that he had gotten himself incredibly messy from what he had already done. “It’s not fun if you don’t get messy.”

“That’s probably what we are missing at work,” Y/N noted, a small laugh falling from her throat. “Everyone is so uptight there. If we got messy sometimes, I think people would have a lot more fun.”

“Then make it happen,” Beau thought aloud, “You’re in charge. Shake things up a little bit.”

“I don’t think the big boss would be okay with something like that. You probably see the way your dad has to dress every day,” she contemplated the idea knowing that she hated dressing up like that every day as well. “I think with art you should be more relaxed. Wear business clothes when someone is coming in or you have a meeting. People work so much better when they are more comfortable. Dress for success is what they say, but I think people would work better if they wore whatever they wanted.”

“They’ve liked your ideas so far,” Beau pointed out wondering if it was something she would actually try to do. It was something he heard his father complain about every morning since he could remember. Negan was not a suit wearing guy. He hated it. So Beau knew it would be something that his dad would appreciate. “Permission to change the subject to something a little more personal?”

“You don’t have to keep asking permission for things,” she replied back, finding amusement in Negan’s son’s manners while she contemplated her art piece. “You can talk to me about anything that you want to talk about.”  

“I just don’t want to hurt or upset you,” Beau confessed, taking a moment to think things over. “Why do you let your father talk to you the way he does?” Beau wondered knowing that it was probably something that he shouldn’t have brought up, but it was weighing heavy on his mind. “The way he talks to you is very demeaning. I’m sorry for bringing it up, but I don’t like it. I mean, he’s been nice to me but Mr. Greene could learn a few things about being a father.”

“You’re not upsetting me by saying it. You’re not wrong,” she pointed out from where she was over by her canvas set up. It was sad that even Negan’s child was capable of seeing the way that Hershel treated her was wrong, but her own father couldn’t see it himself. “I give him backtalk sometimes, but at the same time, I don’t know? Maybe I keep my mouth shut sometimes because I just know he’s my father.”

“And because of that is why he shouldn’t be like that,” Beau reasoned with her, his raspy voice hitching when he headed over to the supplies to look for a few things that he wanted. “I wouldn’t fight with my dad, but my dad doesn’t treat me the way that Mr. Greene treats you.”

“That’s because your father is an incredible man,” she replied back noticing the way that Beau looked back at her with a smirk before nodding. “You were lucky that you ended up with such a good dad. You can tell that he loves you and Erin very much.”

“I know this is deep, but you should be proud of yourself,” Beau suggested while working on his painting. “I was lucky enough to grow up with two incredible parents. I had my mom. I had my dad. And they both loved me. They raised me right. I’ve been surrounded by nothing but love my entire life. I lost my mom and it broke me, but I never questioned if she loved me. I can see your family was hard on you and you never knew your mom. For someone who grew up in the position that you did, you really turned out good. You’re successful, you’re nice…”

“I don’t know how nice I am kiddo,” she sighed loudly, stealing a quick look at Beau who was watching her from where he was standing by his painting. “I’ve probably done some really questionable things that people wouldn’t find very nice.”

“You’ve been nothing but nice to me,” Beau reminded her and it made a lump develop in her throat. “You’ve gone above and beyond to make me feel comfortable. Even when you barely knew me. If that’s not kindness. I don’t know what is,” Beau continued on thinking things over, “And someone could say it’s because you know my dad, but it’s not. I can’t tell you how many people know my dad and they don’t go above and beyond for me like you have in the last two days. Maggie included.”

“I just want you happy,” she informed him feeling the lump in her throat growing bigger. “You remind me of me when I was younger and I…I don’t know.”

“It’s because you’re a good person,” Beau reiterated with a firmness to his tone causing her to shrug her shoulders. “One day, you’re gonna see it. Even if your family makes you feel otherwise. Your family should lift you up. Not bring you down. Maybe my family can show you that.”

“You’re sweet,” she commented and it made Beau smile, his dimples becoming more visible while he continued to work on his painting. “You know, I got Maggie to agree to doing all of the things that you wanted to do for Christmas. We figured out our schedule over the next few days.”

“See what I mean about the whole you being a kind person thing?” Beau stuck to what he was saying previously and it made her smile, shaking her head since he was sticking with it. “Thank you for doing that. You didn’t have to.”

“I wanted to,” she corrected him knowing that she didn’t want to make him think that it was for any reason other than what it was for. “I don’t want you to feel like I did when I was younger. You shouldn’t feel broken or sad. I think your mother would want the best for you.”

“She was awesome you know,” Beau informed Y/N thinking back on his mother. “I think she would have really liked you. You remind me of her. When I saw you in my dad’s room the other day, it brought back so many memories of her for me. And the way you are with people? I wish you could have met her. The two of you would have been good friends.”

“I’m sure I would have really liked her,” she commented, a smirk tugging at her lips when she heard Beau singing along to the music that was on in the background. For a while they were quiet while they worked on things, but the best part of doing this whole thing was seeing how emotional it seemed to make Beau in a good way. Whenever she would steal a look at him, he would either be contemplating deeply or smiling and that made her happy to see. “How’s it going?”

“Not too bad,” Beau responded, stepping away from the painting that he was working on and it showed her that the clothes he was wearing were covered in paint along with his hands and arms. It made her laugh and he looked down at himself. Shamelessly, he shook his arms to try to get some of it off, but it just spread more. “Hey Y/N? What was your favorite thing about Christmas growing up? Do you have a favorite memory?”

“Uh…” she paused to think about it and the longer she did, the more she began to realize that she didn’t really have a good memory to think of. “I don’t think so. Sadly. My family always went all out on Christmas, but there is no exact memory that I have that’s very…happy.”

“That makes me sad,” Beau frowned, shaking his head at the thought of not having a moment or moments to really stand out for her. “We’ll have to change that for you. Because everyone deserves to have memories that they can look back on and be happy about.”

“We’ll see,” she breathed out knowing that this time that she had been able to spend with Negan and Beau were some of her favorite moments that she had in a very long time. That scared her because she didn’t have a lot of good moments to look back on in her life. If she was starting to admit that she was happy, she was afraid that these feelings and moments that she was having would be taken away from her. Looking forward to things or getting ahead of herself was not something she should be doing because this was so new and she didn’t want to get excited for something that would only lead to sadness in the end.

“So…” Beau spoke up from the other end of the barn. “You and Glenn. When are the two of you planning on getting married?”

“Uh, we never picked a date,” Y/N felt her heartbeat quicken at the name of her fiancé that had joined her on this trip.

“Why is that?” Beau wondered and honestly? It was a question she never really thought about herself.

“I don’t know,” she was honest with Negan’s son. “He asked me to marry him and after that? We really didn’t talk about it much more. I’ve been so busy with my new job and everything that I never actually thought about getting married.”

“I see,” Beau sighed, his lips parting like he wanted to say something, but he rethought it and changed the direction of his questions. “Was it romantic when he asked you to marry him?”

“I mean…” she didn’t know whether to be honest or not with Negan’s son. Thinking things over, what could it hurt with her being honest with Beau? “No. It wasn’t. Glenn asked me in front of a bunch of people and we had never really talked about marriage before. I guess when I pictured me getting engaged to someone, I figured it would be personal. Something that I could look back on that was special between me and the person I was in love with. When Glenn asked me, I was almost afraid of telling him no because I didn’t want to hurt him. He’s so sweet and he’s a good person. The last thing I wanted to do was upset him.”

“So you don’t want to be engaged to him,” Beau clarified making a lump develop in her throat and she lowered down the brush that she was using to paint the art that she was doing. “Why tell him yes then?”

“Because I didn’t want to hurt him,” she confessed back, looking to the ring that was on her finger. “I cared more about his feelings than I did what I really wanted.”

“That’s not what love should be like,” Beau asserted and she found herself impressed to hear this coming from a thirteen-year-old. “I think Glenn is nice and everything, but I don’t see that spark between the two of you.”

“The spark?” she set down what she was painting with, reaching up to drag her hand across the painting that she was doing and it made Beau give her an odd expression. “It will make sense when you see the painting.”

“Okay?” Beau was confused but went with it. “Yeah. The spark. I saw it with my dad and my mom when she was alive. There is this thing that people have when they look at each other. You can just see it. You and Glenn come off like best friends. I hope that doesn’t offend you.”

“I’m not offended,” she reassured Beau, moving over to the paints that she had set up. Beau moved in beside her looking for something while she cleaned up a few things. Taking a look at Beau, she couldn’t help but laugh seeing him covered in the paint. “Did you get any paint on the canvas?”

“I did. Thank you,” Beau snorted reaching his fingers out to dip them in some of the paint before flicking it at her, watching her turn away from the spray of the paint. With a small laugh, Beau tried to bite back on it before Y/N turned to him. Nodding, she reached out to dip her fingers in the same paint before flicking it at Beau. With a laugh, Beau shrugged his shoulders and pointed to what he was wearing. “Like that is really going to affect me. I’m already covered Y/N.”

“Okay, well in that case,” she reached for the pink paint that she had set out and Beau let out a nervous laugh.

“Now hold on. You wouldn’t do that,” Beau held his hand up to stop her from doing it. “You wouldn’t want to get that all over with the toxins that could be in the paint and…”

“I got the safe, nontoxic paint for us,” she informed him and Beau let out a nervous sound. A moment later she tossed the paint out watching it hit Beau with a splash when the rest of the paint hit the ground where the tarp was beneath him. “I think pink is your color, Beau.”

“Wow,” Beau held his hands up in the air, his head shaking when he looked down at himself. Moving over toward the paints, Beau grabbed one of the open containers and he watched her backstepping away from him. “Now wait a second, I just want to show you this…”

“Beau,” she tried dodging him moving around the barn. Holding her hands up, she shook her head. “I mean it was only justice since you have all that paint over you already.”

Watching Negan’s son, she ducked when he threw the paint at her and heard the door opening at the same time. With a splashing sound, she heard a grunt follow. Beau’s laughter filled the air and she looked back over her shoulder to see that Negan was standing at the door with red paint dripping down his face and the front of his body.

“Negan,” Y/N choked back at on laughter as he reached up in attempts to wipe the paint from his face, but it didn’t do much. “You…you know. Red is really your color. You look great.”

“Hey, Y/N?” Beau called out drawing her to look back over her shoulder and before she could react, paint was being thrown on her. Gasping out, she looked down at herself to see that she was covered in green paint and Beau was giggling. “Now the two of you are very festive.”

“I’m not going to have any clothes by the time this whole trip is done,” Negan moved into the barn, looking down at the paints that were still left. Grabbing one, Negan turned toward his son watching Beau take off running and he followed his son around the barn.

As they rounded the corner, Negan slipped on the tarp and the paint that he was carrying poured all over him. Groaning out, Negan heard the laughs of both Y/N and Beau, but instead of letting it keep him down, he was chasing both of them throughout the barn. It was probably dangerous in some sense, but they were all laughing and having fun with one another. It was the first time in a long time that he had heard this kind of laughter from Beau and he loved it.

“Shit,” Negan felt the paint beneath him making him slip and Y/N reached out to catch him, both of them cackling over the fact that they were both covered in paint and looked like a mess. “I’m going to be in so much trouble.”

“You sure are,” Beau called out from where he was standing with the last bit of paint. Scrambling to get up, Negan felt his feet slipping again and just when he was about to try to move, he ended up bringing Y/N down with him.

“Negan, I think we’re…” Maggie’s voice spoke up when the door pulled open again and she was met with the splash of the paint that Beau had thrown at both Y/N and Negan. Once the paint hit Maggie, Beau immediately dropped the can and scrambled backwards, but he slipped on the tarp and fell on his bottom. A gasp fell from Maggie’s lips when she shakily reached up to try to wipe the white paint that was over her face off. Once she got a look at the barn and the mess that they had made along with how all three of them were covered in paint, it made her huff. Beau was motionless, knowing that it was his fault that Maggie got covered in the paint that she did. “I don’t even want to know, but I’m going to go get cleaned up and changed. Please clean…whatever the hell this is up.”

“Yes ma’am,” Negan breathed out, slowly pulling himself up from the ground to stand face to face with Maggie. There was no doubt that she was furious with this whole thing and he was doing everything he could to keep his amusement hidden, but he was failing. Tiny laughs were escaping his throat, but he was trying to hide them between fake coughs. “We’ll get right to it.”

“I am so sorry,” Beau muttered from where he was seated on the ground. Attempting to pull himself up, Beau could see that Maggie’s expression softened when he spoke to her. It was a vastly different look than that of what she was giving Negan. “We were just playing around and they fell. I swear, I would have never thrown paint on you.”

“Don’t worry about it kiddo,” Maggie forgave him, holding her hands up only to hear the sound of someone moving in behind her.

“Holy shit,” a young voice stammered making Y/N choke when she saw Erin standing beside Maggie staring out at the mess that was made. There was shock and awe in the mess that Erin saw, but it was mostly amusement. Which was quite funny considering Erin was so young. “What the heck happened?”

“There was a…uh…” Negan looked around, throwing his hands up when he spoke. It was hard coming up with a lie good enough to fit whatever had happened between them here. “There was an explosion.”

“I’m glad I wasn’t here when it went off,” Erin looked up to see that Maggie was covered in the paint too which immediately made her start giggling. White droplets were dripping from Maggie’s face and onto the tarp. Looking to the other three, she couldn’t contain her laughter, placing her hand in over her stomach. Tears were forming at her eyes seeing how ridiculous that they all looked. “You all look silly. It’s so funny!”

“You want a hug?” Negan offered up to his daughter hearing her giggle. Shaking her head, she hid behind Maggie, her little cheeks turning a bright shade of red from her laughter. At least Erin was having fun with all of this. “Come on. I’ll give you a big hug? I know your daddy’s hugs are your favorite.”

“No daddy. I don’t need to become a real-life painting,” Erin denied him the hug that he was requesting from her before backstepping away from them.

“I’ll have my dad and stepmom watch over her while I’m taking a shower,” Maggie urged Erin toward the door of the barn. “At some point, you can let me know what happened here.”

“It was an art project between Beau and I,” Y/N responded, holding her finger up to point to the canvases that were still standing. “It got…messy.”

“I can tell,” Maggie opened the door, holding it open and circling her finger around her face. “So can my face.”

“We were just having some fun Maggie. It was mostly my fault,” Beau spoke up, hating that Y/N was taking the majority of the credit for this whole thing. “I got carried away and I was having some fun with things. I started the paint throwing.”

“I’m not mad. I’m just going to need to take my second shower of the day and I’m pretty sure all of you are going to too,” Maggie slurred, trying to wipe some of the paint from her face again, letting out a grunt. There was an anger that was flooding her veins, but thankfully she was holding it back likely because of Erin and Beau. “I’ll go take that shower now.”

“Be careful,” Negan called out, making Maggie stop in the doorway and Erin looked back at Maggie confused. Snickering to himself, Negan was aware that his comment likely fired Maggie up, but that was how he always was with Maggie. So it wasn’t like he was acting any different. They always fucked with one another and he liked getting on her nerves. Waving to Erin, Negan shook his head and paint splattered from his dark hair. With a huff, Y/N pushed into his shoulder and he snickered. “Love you baby.”

“Love you too daddy,” Erin called out before Maggie closed up the doors leaving them all alone in the barn together.

Wrapping his arm around Y/N’s shoulders, Negan shook his head and let out a long exhale, “I am in so much trouble later.”

“I’m sure it will be me that takes the grunt of it,” Y/N suggested with a frown knowing that while Maggie was trying to be polite about things, it would be her fault somehow that this happened. That’s how it always was growing up. Even if it was something that made her happy, if it upset Maggie? She was always going to be at fault.

“I’m sorry,” Beau apologized, finally gathering himself completely and standing up straight. “I didn’t know she was coming in. And if I did, I would have never thrown that paint. I know what a tight ass she can be.”

“Beau!” Negan tried to correct his son, but his laughter kind of hid through how he was really feeling.

“You know I’m right,” Beau waved his hand about and moved around the barn toward the canvas that was Y/N’s. When he saw it, his eyes grew wide and he let out a tense breath. “Wow.”

“What’s this?” Negan moved around the canvas to take a look at it and he let out a surprised breath when he saw her painting. It was a portrait of a woman, but her face had been smudged not allowing any real details to show a face. Her identity was a blur and it drew a chill down Negan’s spine.

“The topic was our mothers,” Beau educated his father on what their theme was while Negan eyed over the details of the painting. Moving in beside Negan, she felt Negan’s fingers hooking with hers while they all stood before her art. They probably all looked ridiculous right now covered in paint while observing her work, but she didn’t mind it. Holding Negan’s hand like this might have been dangerous territory, but it came so natural for them. “I kind of want to cry. Especially knowing that you never knew what your mother looked like. It really hits home.”

“It’s beautiful Y/N,” Negan stammered, his chest rising and falling while they all stood together. “You should keep this because it’s amazing. I feel like I was just punched in the fucking gut. It’s so emotional with the way you decided to do this.”

It was something that just came naturally to her while she was doing it. At the time, she hadn’t thought much about it, but now that everyone was observing her art and she was taking the time to think about how she felt about her mother, it was drawing her eyes to burn at the thought. Trying to shake it off, she didn’t want to get emotional in front of the boys so she attempted to take the attention off her.

“What about yours Beau?” Y/N moved over toward Beau’s, with Negan’s hand still in hers when they all made their way over.

“Well, I didn’t get to really put the finishing details on it,” Beau declared, following them not far behind when they headed over to the painting that he was working on. “But it’s mostly done.”

Negan’s breath caught in his throat when he saw that Beau did a close up painting of Lucille’s face in bright, vibrant colors. There was no hiding that it was Lucille and he couldn’t believe how talented his son was, “Jesus Beau. You are so fucking talented.”

“Eh, I still need to learn a lot,” Beau suggested eyeing over Y/N and Negan while they stood before his painting of his mother. Noticing that they were holding hands, Beau smirked and looked back to the painting. “It’s nowhere near as thought provoking as Y/N’s painting.”

“Yeah, but Beau…you are thirteen years old and this is stunning,” Y/N waved her hand about in the air pointing toward the painting that Beau had visibly worked so hard on. “This is amazing.”

“This is from memory?” Negan looked to his son and Beau nodded. “Beau, I don’t even know if I could do it this well.”

“I look at her photo everyday dad,” Beau reminded Negan, his shoulders shrugging when he stepped forward to eye over the art he made of his mother. “I don’t want to forget her face. It’s the most important thing to me right now. And the vibrant colors remind me of her. You remember how mom was. She was always so in your face. Nothing was ever muted when it came to mom.”

Letting out a tremoring breath, Beau felt Negan’s hand grasping a firm hold of his. Looking down, he squeezed his fingers around Negan’s tighter feeling the lump growing bigger in his throat. For a while they just stood in silence and Beau couldn’t help but notice that they were all linked together in this moment. Hand in hand. Resting his head against Negan’s shoulder, Beau allowed them time to finish looking at his work before they carefully moved the canvases to the back so they wouldn’t get ruined with their clean up.

“Knock-knock,” a voice called out while they were finishing everything up to the best of their ability. An overwhelmed grumble fell from the throat of Hershel when he got a looked at all three of them. “What in God’s name were you all doing in here? Maggie told me you would need towels, but this is…”

“Just having some fun Mr. Greene,” Beau interrupted Y/N’s father, rocking back and forth on his feet when he brought Hershel’s attention onto him. “But don’t worry, we cleaned it up and it won’t be a problem.”

“It will be if you walk into the house like that,” Hershel threw his hand up in the air pointing to the three of them and the way they were covered in the paint. “I brought the towels so you can change out of your clothes and wrap yourself in these on your way back to the house. We’ll spray down the clothes and your shoes so they can dry out.”

“Thank you, sir,” Beau stepped forward, accepting the towel from Hershel. Negan did the same and the glare that Hershel gave Negan made him let out a nervous breath.

“What do you want us to change out of?” Negan’s eyebrow arched, his Adam’s apple bouncing in his throat when he thought about the situation. “It’s gonna be a little weird walking back to the home in nothing but a towel.”

“Keep your undergarments on, obviously,” Hershel rolled his eyes and it made Beau snicker at his response to everything. And keep your socks on too. You’re going to be walking through snow. It’s the best we can do. Just go in the back and change away from everyone else.”

“You can go first kiddo,” Y/N instructed to Beau who gave her a firm nod leaving both Negan and Y/N to suffer from the glare of her father while they waited. Hershel’s eyes fell upon the paintings that were in the back and he tipped his head to the side. “The project was our mothers.”

“I see,” Hershel scoffed, pushing his hands into his pockets. “I reckon the vibrant one is your late wife Negan?”

“Yeah. That’s Lucille,” Negan responded, noticing that Hershel was looking over the paintings, his eyes squinting as if trying to get a better look. “My boy really nailed a lot of her features. I can show you a picture later to see how talented he is.”

“I can see from here that your son is talented. I don’t need a photograph to prove it,” Hershel huffed, his eyes gazing over at Y/N who seemed to be standing there in silence. “What is it with you and your art? You can’t just do art in peace. You have to always make a big event of it? You all are going to have to walk back in the cold because of this. Who knows what the boy is going to get. Maggie got paint on the porch from what you threw on her.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” she breathed out, her throat tensing up knowing that she was going to get a lecture from her father. She called that one from the start. “We were just having some fun. Beau is an artist and this was my favorite thing to do as a kid.”

“Her painting is incredible though, right?” Negan spoke up, trying to break Hershel’s attention away from being irritated with her over something that was just a silly moment between all of them. “It was only a few hours and her painting touched me in ways that I don’t even know if I can explain.”

“Hmm…” Hershel didn’t even take the time to comment, his eyes shifting down toward the ground when Beau returned and it was Negan’s turn to toss his clothes in the back after changing. During that time Hershel was really quiet. In front of Beau, Hershel would no doubt be a different man. And when it was her turn to change, she watched Hershel point over toward Beau’s work. “You’re a very talented kid you know. You’re going to do big things with your talents one day. Nice work.”

“Thank you,” Beau’s raspy voice was heard as she rounded the corner. At least she was proud of her father for that. When she was younger, she never got compliments from her father when it came to her art.

Once she was done, she returned and realized how ridiculous they all looked standing there in towels with their socks on, “I’ll spray your clothes and shoes down. Get back to the house fast and try not to get paint all over.”

“Yes sir,” Beau offered up a charming smile, similar to the one that Negan would often give people. A smile that Y/N had gotten used to over the last few months working with him.

Their walk back to the house was quick since it was snowing and Maggie had met them at the door. She offered to let Beau use her bathroom since her and Glenn were going to go pick up some food for the family. Beau accepted and Negan offered to wait in his room while Y/N took the other shower in the bathroom on the second floor.

But when Negan knew Maggie had left with Glenn and the rest of the family was busy, he snuck into the bathroom with Y/N, surprising her when he wrapped his arms around her waist from behind. Nuzzling his nose in against the side of her neck had her biting back on a sigh, “Are you sure you want to be in here with everyone here?”

Pressing a faint kiss against the side of her neck, Negan growled and heard her laugh, “They are all downstairs anyways. I think Erin is entertaining your father and Annette.”

Stepping back, Negan tugged at his towel and tossed it aside. Pushing at his boxer briefs, Negan kicked out of them and saw her smirk, looking down between them. A wolfish smile tugged at Negan’s handsome features when her eyes raised again, “We look fucking great right now.”

“I don’t know about that,” she chuckled feeling Negan tugging at her towel and tossing it beside his. Getting undressed, she saw Negan brace himself when he pulled his socks off and tossed them in the pile of their clothes at the center of the floor.

Once they were naked, Negan moved in behind her and urged her to look at them in the mirror and she immediately reached up to cover her face. Laughing, Negan reached for her hands to get them to move down, “Negan! We look fucking ridiculous.”

“I wish we had my phone because I would take a picture,” Negan responded with an entertained sound as she placed her hand in over the center of his chest to brace herself.

“With us being buck ass naked and covered in paint?” she found hilarity in that statement. “We look terrible.”

“Correction. The bodies look great, we just look like we were in a very bad accident at a home improvement store,” Negan pinched at her bottom eliciting a gasp to fall from her lips. Leaning in closer to her Negan gave a silly pose and she playfully pushed into his side. “Don’t be embarrassed. This is fun. This is silly. It’s cute.”

“I don’t think anyone would find it cute with you and me being naked together here,” she acknowledged, sliding her hands up the lengths of his abdomen toward his chest, twisting her fingers through the dark curls of hair that covered his flesh.

“You’re going to give me a hard on and I’m really trying to be innocent here. We don’t have time for shower sex,” Negan frowned causing her to roll her eyes and step back away from him. Looking down, Negan huffed and shook his head. “I have kind of a chubby right now as it is.”

Reaching for Y/N’s hand, Negan led her over toward the shower and turned the water on. Making sure that the water was at an appropriate temperature, he helped her into the shower and moved in behind her.  

Hearing her sigh once the warmth of the water poured in over them, Negan leaned forward and braced his hands against the wall trapping her in his arms, “You know, I wouldn’t care if your family fucking knew we were together anyways. At this point, who fucking cares?”

“You would when my father found out you were cheating on Maggie,” Y/N turned in his arms to face him, her hands caressing in over the sides of Negan’s body while he stood before her. “When we tell them about us, it will have to be without my father.”

“I’m not scared of your father,” Negan hummed, his eyebrows arching up and she tipped her head to the side. “I can’t help who I fell in love with. And if he can’t handle that? Then tough shit.”

“So brave now,” she shook her head watching Negan’s hands drop from the wall and he closed the distance between the two of them. “It will be different when we have to tell them.”

“I know how I feel Y/N,” Negan hushed her, capturing her jaw between his thumb and index finger. Swiping his thumb over her flesh, Negan shook his head and lowered down in closer to her. “I don’t care what anyone else thinks.”

“You know what I think?” she spoke in a whisper with their lips inches apart. Negan’s long eyelashes fluttered and when their eyes connected, she let out a tiny laugh. “I think my ass is going to be bruised tomorrow from how hard we fell before Maggie came in.”  

Grumbling out, Negan urged her to turn so he could get a look at her ass and she gasped, “Negan!”

“It looks fine to me,” Negan claimed, nuzzling his nose in against the side of her neck. Palming over her bottom had her letting out a tight exhale and Negan chuckled against her flesh. Pooling at the drain was the mixture of paint colors being cleaned from them and Negan found himself happy in that moment. “You made my son happier today than anyone has in a very long time.”

Unhurriedly, Negan’s palms slid in over her hips then in over her lower abdomen where her fingers hooked with his, “I think we all had a pretty good time there for a little while.”

“Maggie would disagree,” Negan snorted, his nose wrinkling when she turned to face him again. Reaching up, she palmed in over the side of his face and giggled when she saw that some of the paint was still sticking to him. Attempting to help him get it off, she stepped in closer to him and rest her head against the center of his chest when a big laugh fell from her throat. “Thank you for what you are doing with Beau. You have no idea how much it means to me. My boy lost his smile for a while and it was nice to see it back tonight.”

“I’m just happy he had fun,” she stroked her fingers over the center of his chest. “He’s a good kid. You raised him right.”

“I can only take so much credit for that. His mother did a really good job with him too. They were best friends,” Negan informed her, wrapping her up in his arms and sighing when she cuddled in closer to him. Caressing his hand down over the length of her back, Negan frowned and shook his head. “I was really worried about what would happen to him after we lost his mother, but he’s been so good. I think he’s taken great care of his little sister. And he’s taken care of me when it should be the opposite. I’m so fucking lucky to have that boy in my life.”

“Is it bad that I don’t want to leave this position?” she wondered knowing that she felt the calmest she had in a very long time under the spray of water with Negan holding onto her like he was. “I can’t even believe we are doing this.”

“I’m very comfortable myself,” Negan snickered, pressing a kiss over her forehead and giving her another tight squeeze pulling her close to his body. It was surprising how this wasn’t sexual at all, just more of a sweet intimate moment between the two of them. “I don’t think it’s wrong to want to keep feeling good when you were trained to force yourself to feel bad all the time.”

“I love you,” she lifted her head, reaching up to brush her fingers through his wet hair. “I really do. If you would have told me I would have been feeling this way a week ago, I would have told you to fuck off.”

“Well, that reaction is one people often do have when they think about me,” Negan teased, his nose wrinkling when he urged her to face the showerhead. Caressing his hands up the sides of her body, Negan reached for the shampoo and started to lather her hair with the soap that was there. It was kind of romantic and sweet that he was doing it and she found herself in awe of him. “I do piss people off a lot. And I guarantee you when we get back to work, even though you will be absolutely fucking smitten with me, I’m still gonna piss you off and you’re gonna want to choke me.”

“God,” she scoffed, turning in his arms and stealing the shampoo returning the gesture by soaping up his hair as well. Tipping up on her toes, her lips hovered over his and she shook her head, “We’ll save the choking for our alone time.”

“You’re a freak. I like it,” Negan snickered against her flesh, capturing her lips in a kiss that drew her further up on her toes toward him. Stepping forward, he got them further under the water so they could get the shampoo out of their hair. “I’m pretty sure I’d let you do any fucking thing to me honey. And I’d enjoy it.”

“You better,” she nipped at his bottom lip before going to get the body wash to work to scrub the paint off with Negan’s help. “Your son told me that he doesn’t see the spark between me and Glenn. The spark that you and his mother had.”

“He’s a perceptive little man,” Negan noted while they finished getting cleaned up together in the small shower. “And he’s not wrong.”

“I didn’t lie to him though. I told him that I agreed and I didn’t think I belonged with Glenn,” she was honest with Negan about the conversation she had with his son. “Is that bad?”

“Nope. He’s very easy to talk to and I don’t think he’s going to go running to Glenn to tell him,” Negan explained to her, turning off the shower after they were done. Getting out, he reached for a new towel and held it out for her. Getting out of the shower carefully, she stepped forward only to feel Negan wrapping her up in the new towel. With Negan peppering kisses over the side of her neck, she couldn’t help but laugh at the way it felt with his short beard against her flesh. “Eventually you will have a talk with Glenn and he’s a nice guy. I’m sure he will understand.”

“He’s so fucking nice Negan,” she let out a hesitant breath, her eyebrows furrowing when she thought about the man she had been dating for quite some time. “I can only imagine how he is going to take things once I tell him.”

“He’ll survive,” Negan assured her, grabbing a hold of her hands to give them a tight squeeze. Stepping back, he reached for a new towel for himself to wrap around his waist. Standing in front of the mirror, he took a long look at himself and huffed. Slicking his hair back, he felt her arms wrapping around him from behind. Caressing over the lengths of his long, slender abdomen she used him to brace up on her toes so she could press faint kisses over his freckle covered shoulders. “If I don’t get to be with you, I won’t survive. I can fucking promise you that.”

“You’re so dramatic,” she snickered against his flesh, stepping back and away from him, hearing his snort follow. “I don’t know what I’m going to do with you.”

“Hold me. Kiss me. Love me. Fuck me,” Negan’s voice growled, turning on his heel to face her noticing the flush of color that flooded her features. “Spank me. Yell at me. Cuddle me. Whatever your heart desires. Just don’t break my heart.”

“Goddamn it. You are so fucking cute it’s frustrating,” she laughed, pushing her fingers into the center of his chest making his thick eyebrows furrow. The expression he made caused her heart to flutter in her chest. It was like he was pouting and she shook her head. “You look like a fucking puppy when you use those fucking eyes on me.”

“Sexiest puppy you’ve ever seen,” Negan bobbed his head about eliciting a laugh from deep within her. Moving around him, she started putting her clothes on and Negan frowned. “I like being naked with you.”

“You technically are still very much naked under that towel,” she reminded him, pointing down at the towel that was wrapped loosely around his hips. “Did you bring your clothes with you?”

“I did not,” Negan let out a tense breath looking down at the towel that he was wearing. Pulling it apart, Negan held his arms out and he was purposely trying to flash her. “It’s almost a shame we took a shower together and we didn’t get to do anything in the shower.”

“I like what we did,” she responded, turning toward him to drag her index finger down over the center of his chest circling his nipple with her fingertip before dragging it down further. When her fingers dragged across his hip, it had his eyes narrowing and his breathing grew louder. “Better close up that towel tightly and go get dressed.”

“Yes ma’am,” Negan frowned, pulling the towel tightly together and knotting it. “You’re a tease.”

“Says the man who was just flashing me his penis,” she leaned in closer to him, the warmth of her breath lingering over his lips.

“You like it so much, I thought I’d leave you with the image of me soaking wet, completely nude…” Negan’s dimples became more prominent with his whispering, “that way it helps you get through the rest of the day.”

“What helps you get through the rest of the day? Imagining it in my mouth or inside of me?” she purred and Negan growled in response.

“Both are incredible choices,” Negan noticed her stroking small shapes over the center of his chest and he smiled. “Now the idea of me coming down your throat is very appealing. We haven’t done that yet.”

“We’ll have to see if we can make that happen,” she hushed him, pushing her fingers into his chest to get him to step back. “But not right now.”

“Tease,” Negan rolled his eyes, reaching for the door to leave, but he rethought it. Lowering down, he nuzzled his nose in against the side of her face. Noticing what he was asking for, she laughed and turned just enough to meet Negan in a quick kiss. After he peppered a few more kisses over his lips, he pulled the door open and went to move out into the hallway.

“Fuck! Beau,” Negan gasped when he came face to face with Beau who was just coming out of Maggie’s room. They both froze when they saw one another and Negan clung tightly to the door. Tipping his head to the side, Beau eyed over Y/N. The color had drained from both Negan and Y/N’s faces after he had caught them in the bathroom together pulling away from a kiss. Grasping tightly to the towel that he was wearing, Negan cleared his throat and noticed the smirk that pressed in over Beau’s young features. Rubbing a towel through his wet hair, Beau shook his head and moved out of Maggie’s room stepping out into the hallway. “Listen…I…”

“Can explain?” Beau finished for Negan, his jaw flexing as he let out a tense laugh. Shrugging his shoulders, Beau didn’t seem to be too bothered by things. Y/N moved in beside Negan in the doorway and Beau eyed over the stairs to make sure they were alone. “I told you dad, I’m not asking questions. When you’re ready to tell me something. You will. Nor am I going to be talking to anyone about anything. Because it’s none of my business.”  

“We didn’t do anything,” Y/N assured Negan’s son with a panicked voice, her eyes looking terrified when she saw the way that Beau was looking between them. “I swear. It was very innocent.”

“Okay,” Beau shrugged his shoulders pointing toward the stairs. “You think we should go figure out what Erin is doing with your family? I think sugar cookies are out of the question until tomorrow, don’t you? With all of us being covered in paint earlier.”

“As long as you are okay with that,” she breathed out, surprised how well Beau was taking seeing her and his father coming out of the bathroom together soaking wet with his dad still in a towel. Giving them a small nod, Beau handed the towel that he had over to his father and Negan eagerly accepted it. “I just want you happy.”

“And I just want both of you happy,” Beau released a long sigh, folding his arms out in front of his chest. “So whatever it takes for you both to be happy? I’m okay with it. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen you happy dad. So do whatever you have to do. I’m a big boy and I understand that.”

“I feel like we should talk,” Negan suggested hearing Beau snicker and shake his head. Beau’s eyebrows bounced up and Negan wrapped the towel that Beau gave him around his shoulders. “I’m sure you have some questions and…”

“Dad, another time. I think you need to go get dressed before someone else comes up here,” Beau pointed toward his father from where he was standing still dressed in nothing but a towel. “I am going to go check on Erin and make sure she’s not starting a fire or anything.”

“Beau,” Negan spoke up, walking out into the hallway with his son and Beau threw his hands up in the air. “I just think…”

“When you’re ready, you’ll talk to me,” Beau repeated, moving for the stairs. “Until then, I saw nothing. And I know nothing.”

“Shit,” Negan cussed, his hands sliding in over his hips when Beau made it down the stairs. “Do you think he knows?”

“He’s thirteen Negan,” she pointed out and Negan gazed back over his shoulder at her, his expression showing that he didn’t know how to take that answer. “I’m pretty damn sure he knows.”

“I told you he was fucking perceptive,” Negan grumbled under his breath and stepped back toward the stairs that led toward the attic. “I should go get dressed.”

“That makes sense,” she agreed with him, not sure how to respond to things. Going to head back into the bathroom, she felt Negan grabbing a hold of her wrist to pull her back to him. Cupping her face in his large hands, he urged her to him so he could leave her with a lingering kiss that took her breath away. “Negan?”

“I just want you to know that I don’t regret this,” Negan whispered, drawing his thumb across her bottom lip, his head shaking from side to side. “Even if my son figured this whole thing out. I’m not ashamed of this. I never will be. I fucking love you.”

“I love you,” she whispered, accepting another quick kiss from Negan. After he headed up the stairs she went back into the bathroom and closed the door behind her. Resting back against it, she took a minute to gather herself. She hoped that Beau didn’t think that she was doing everything that she was because of her relationship with Negan.

----

Tags: @slutlanna976 @fuckthis-and-fuckthat @jennydehavilland @de-gabyconamor @ibelongtonegan @smallsadjellyfish @labyrinthofheartagrams  @msjamesmarch @thebeautysurrounds @hotfornegan @redmercysugar @caprithebunny @tuttifuckinfruitty @emoryhemsworth @a-girl-interupted @akumune​ @stoneyggirl2 @xsarcasticwriterx  @haleygreen23 @xhannahbananax03 @sanctuaryforthelost @burningredaffair @killaweiser @dead-of-niight @ayumi-wolf @hollyismentallyillhelp @promiscuousbarnes​ @tone-stark @lanadelnegan @flippittygibbitts @stickyhuesos

#Jeffrey Dean Morgan #Negan #Negan fanfiction #negan x reader #The Walking Dead #twd fanfiction #negan x you #Negan Smith

[jasmines-library]

Today I Saw The Whole World {1}

Chapter 1 - Out of body, out of mind.

Summary: You are Sam Winchester’s twin sister, cursed with the same blood running through your veins. When Sam begins experiencing his visions, you too discover a new skill. You can see into the veil.

Warnings: none really for this chapter, some mentions of violence, dissociation and an out of body experience.

Word count: 1.5k

Notes: This chapter follows the first season of supernatural, I’m planning to write further into the show in later chapters. This is kind of a trial chapter so feedback is appreciated. Also there may be some stuff that doesn’t quite fit with the show and that’s because I’m too lazy to go back and check, but who cares because it’s fan fiction and I can do what I want.

Also the title is a song by pierce the veil, which I thought was fitting. So please excuse the pun.

edit: went through and corrected some spelling errors. Apologies for any bad grammar that I missed.

“Y/N?”  

“Hmm?” You blinked slowly, snapping out of your reverie and turning your head towards Sam who furrowed his brow at you. 

You had been doing it again. Watching the people absentmindedly. You had grown a habit of doing that recently; within the last few weeks or so, people seemed to catch your eye more frequently. At first it was only one or two every few days, when you were well charged before a hunt and they would only be there for a few seconds before vanishing, but now your sightings were coming closer together and often lasted slightly longer. The people were peculiar; like they were oblivious to most of the world around them. They always seemed faded at first, until you put all of your focus into what you were watching, drowning out everything around you. You had been watching a woman perched on a bench beneath a lamppost. She was young with a sad look about her face, and wore her hair pinned neatly in an up-do. The woman wore a dark pink corset dress that seemed too formal for some park opposite a shitty motel en route to a shitty town in Arizona, and you found that despite the brightness of the lamppost beaming down in the darkness, no shadow was cast around her. Rolling the ring which sat on her left hand between her index and her thumb, she watched the world go by in front of her. Her gaze was off though as if she was watching the world through a screen and wasn’t actually in the room. That was until her striking blue eyes settled on your face hidden behind the motel room window.  

Sam followed your eye-line out of the window to the bench to find that you were staring blankly at nothing. “Are you listening?” 

“What? Sure.” You mumbled, eyes flitting back to the now empty bench before finally focusing on your brothers who were gathered around the table. You didn’t miss the worried look that Sam shot Dean.

“So you’re clear on the plan?” 

“I-“ 

Dean let out a deep sigh and dragged his hands across his face to pinch the bridge of his nose. “Sweetheart, you have to listen. It’s important.” 

“I know” you rubbed at your eyes with the heel of your palms. You had found yourself becoming increasingly weary as of late. “I’m sorry.”

Dean’s features softened as he rose from the table, his chair squealing on the cheap titled floor, and crouched down next to you on the sofa. He was able to cross the space in two strides. “Where’s your head at, kid?”

You shook your head. If you were going to be totally honest even you didn’t know. You were confused; seeing things that were there one minute and then gone the next was hardly harrowing. “I don’t know.” 

”Y/N/N, whatever’s going on you know you can tell us right?” Sam spoke next, you hadn’t realised he had moved from his chair to be near his siblings. “Is it like my visions?” 

The three of you had recently discovered that Sammy was having visions in his sleep, at first you all thought that they were nightmares but soon realised that they were visions once he predicted the outcome of a hunt. He had pondered whether you were experiencing something similar, considering the two of you were twins, and not only shared a birthday, but a similar mindset too, though you had shown no signs that something was very different.

“You have to tell us if something is wrong.” 

You knew that, of course you did. And you would tell them. Once you knew what was happening. Dean was smart, Sam even smarter. You figured they would figure it out before you did anyway, you would just have to lie to them for a while so you could have a headstart. “It’s nothing, I promise. I’m just tired after all the hunting we’ve been doing recently. I need more than 4 hours of sleep.” 

Sam let out a low chuckle. “Get some sleep then kid. We’ll brief you tomorrow.” 

~~~

That night you slept restlessly; it hadn’t taken long for you to drift to sleep to the soft murmurs of you brothers, but once you were asleep, you didn’t stay that way for long. 

Sitting up abruptly, your eyes were immediately drawn to the bright light of Sam’s laptop illuminating his face in the dark room. The second thing was Dean’s heavy snoring from where he was sprawled out across the bed he had claimed as his. 

Sam seemed elbow deep in his research; he didn’t react as you groggily swung your legs over the side of the pull out couch and made your way into the small kitchen.

“Sam? What are you still doing up?” You asked, peering over his shoulder. You knew that annoyed him. He was reading up on ghosts and their ability to move about the veil. Ghosts? Tomorrow's hunt was a demon hunt.

 “Sammy?” You waved your hand across his face, trying to get his attention. He didn’t react, instead his eyes flicked tirelessly across the screen and he took a swig from one of the many bottles scattered about the papers on the table. 

“You know it’s rude to ignore people, Samuel.” You told him rolling your eyes at the mess. Still, he made no reply. 

“Fine.” You turned away. “Be like that, assface.” 

You reached out to pick up one of the empty bottles from the table, only to find your hand  passing through it. You recoiled quickly, taken back by the motion. You reached out again, trying to grip the cool glass around your calloused hand only for the same thing to happen again. 

“What the-“ you muttered. 

You made your way over to try to shake Dean awake since Sam had decided to ignore you, and that was when you saw it. 

Your own body, curled up beneath a blanket on the pullout sofa. 

~~~ 

It was a firm shake to the shoulder that woke you up. The sunlight was seeping between the thin curtains and your two brothers were moving about the motel room gathering all of their stuff. You groaned and turned away from the hands on your shoulders, trying to bury yourself within the warmth of the covers. But the hands rolled you back over. 

“Nope. Come on sweetheart, time to get up.” You peeled your eyes open to see Dean’s meadow green ones staring down at you. 

Sighing, you pushed yourself up and rubbed the sleep from your eyes before beginning to get ready to leave for the hunt. You couldn’t help but reflect on what had happened last night. 

“Man, I had the strangest dream last night.” 

“Like vision weird?” You twin asked from across the room, stuffing your clothes into a well worn duffel since he had already packed his own and was going to go stir crazy if you didn’t do yours soon. 

“No.” You shook your head. “Nothing like that. It was definitely a dream but it was so…lucid. It felt real.” 

Dean was still sceptical that you weren’t having visions. You had started acting strange when Sam had started getting his visions and it took him a while to come clean about them, but Dean knew that you were more stubborn than your twin; you were a Winchester after all. “You wanna tell us about it.” 

“Well…” you started “there wasn’t really a whole lot to it. I woke up here. Everything was almost exactly as it was when we left it last night. Dean was passed out in his bed and Sam was up researching. Then completely ignored me, even when I waved my hands in his face and read all of his stuff over his shoulder.” You turned to your brother who was looking at you quizzically. “You weren’t even researching anything useful for the hunt. It was completely random.” 

“What’s so weird about that?” Dean asked through a mouthful of leftover fries he had pulled out of the fridge and decided to stuff his face with instead of throwing them away. 

You grimaced at the sight. “Well, when I tried to clean up the mess you two left, my hand went straight through the bottle. And then… and then I saw myself. Asleep on the couch.”

“Huh.” Dean said. “That is freaky.”

“Y/n…” Sam asked cautiously, “what exactly was I researching?” 

“Ghosts? I don’t know. I was kinda freaked out by my own body.” 

Sam was silent. It worried you, but it was when he turned his laptop around to face you that your complexion paled. Sam had been researching ghosts.

~~~

NEXT • MASTERLIST • SERIES MASTERLIST

🏷️ Taglist:

#pls give me feedback #I hope u enjoyed #this was kinda unedited #supernatural #supernatural x reader #sam winchester #sam winchester x reader #Dean Winchester #dean winchester x reader #sister reader #sister!reader #sam Winchester x sister reader #Winchester sister #supernatural x little sister reader

[heyiwrotesomethings]

salut j'espère que vous allez bien j'adore vos histoires de lecteur shinobu x et je voulais vous demander si vous pouviez faire une histoire de lecteur shinobu x fem où kanae n'est pas mort et shinobu a son vrai caractère et que pendant l'histoire, shinobu et le lecteur sa rivale pour voir qui est le meilleur tueur de démons ou juste le meilleur dans l'ensemble, qu'ils se taquinent constamment mais que shinobu a toujours une longueur d'avance sur le lecteur et que d'une manière ou d'une autre ils finissent en couple à la fin (merci donc beaucoup si vous acceptez ma demande et sachez que vous êtes mon écrivain shinobu préféré <3)

You’re My (Sparring) Partner

Shinobu Kochou x She/Her Reader

A/N: I don’t know any French so I hope Google Translate didn’t let us down too bad. Quick plot introduction: Kanae lived, Shinobu’s her good ol’ grouchy self, and she and reader are always competing to see who is better. Some bumps in the path before they finally end up together because Shinobu is stubborn. Thank you for the request. Espérons que vous apprécierez! Word Count: 4,340

“I killed two demons last night.” (Y/n) shared with a bit of pride over breakfast that morning, subtlety looking over the rim of her cup at Shinobu as she drank, before putting the cup back down with a quiet click. “I made very clean cuts too, that’s what you said, right? Kanae-sama?”

A quiet laugh left Kanae’s lips before she nodded, “Yes, you certainly are improving. I’m very proud.”

Shinobu rolled her eyes, her teeth lightly grinding together before she added, “Well my record in one night is four. Two isn’t that impressive.”

“Oh yeah, well—“

“Shinobu, (Y/n), please no bickering at the table. It’s a little early to be playing this game, don’t you think?” Kanae sighed.

“It’s not a game, Neesan.” Shinobu refuted, matching (Y/n)’s glare.

This rivalry had been going on for years. Ever since Shinobu finally accepted that she wasn’t fit for Flower Breathing and decided to cultivate her own breathing style and (Y/n) had wormed her way in to train under Kanae as a Tsuguko, the spot that should have been Shinobu’s by all accounts. It had left the girl bitter and looking for just about any excuse to show (Y/n) how much better she was than her. Even now as a Hashira herself, she still hadn’t been able to quite let go of that initial disappointment and start a new chapter.

Of course, (Y/n) didn’t take Shinobu’s challenges sitting down. She had earned her spot within the Butterfly Estate, but the only one who remained unconvinced was the one person she wanted to impress almost more than the Flower Hashira herself.

Ever since (Y/n) had met Shinobu, she hadn’t thought of her as anything short of brilliant. She took every curve ball life had thrown her way and found a way to hit a home run every time. Not able to decapitate demons, she made a special poison that could kill them anyway. Not suited for the more mainstream breathing techniques, she created her own. Not to mention her speed and mastery over Total Concentration Breathing Constant was nothing to sneeze at either.

To be acknowledged and accepted by Shinobu was all she really wanted and she was willing to do anything to prove her worth. She would compete with Shinobu until she earned her respect.

“Yes, it’s a very serious matter, Master.” (Y/n) agreed, smirking at Shinobu’s scowl.

“Well then take it outside. You are making poor Kanao nervous and I’m sure the other girls don’t appreciate the hostility brewing between you two either.” Kanae said, motioning to the group of girls around the table who did indeed just wanted to eat their breakfast in peace.

“Fine.” Shinobu’s hands slapped against the table as she got up. “I could go for a spar, how about you? Or are you still too sleepy from being up past your bedtime?”

“I recall you waiting up to greet me last night. So I’m sure we have the same advantage.”

“As if I was waiting for you. I had questions for my sister about our medicinal ingredient supply shipments.”

They bickered and taunted each other, even nudging and shoving each other as they made their way out the door. Kanae gave another tired sigh.

“Why can’t those two just get along?”

***

Shinobu flung a wooden sword at (Y/n) who was luckily paying enough attention to catch it before it smacked her in the face and quick enough to immediately retaliate.

“Readysetgo!” Thwack!

It was a dirty tactic to begin a spar without allowing enough time to at least get in a proper starting stance, but Shinobu had anticipated the swipe and blocked it easily.

“Can’t even catch me off guard properly.” Shinobu taunted.

“Who said I trying to?” (Y/n) asked with faux innocence, blocking Shinobu’s counter strike, “I gave you fair warning. Did you feel like I was trying to catch you off guard? In that case, maybe I did catch you a bit off guard after all. My apologies.”

Shinobu sneered, then jumped back. With the weight behind Shinobu’s block gone, (Y/n) was suddenly pushing back against nothing but air. She stumbled forward as Shinobu advanced, turning sharply behind her, wooden sword already swinging towards its intended target.

(Y/n) had been burned by that little maneuver once before and she wasn’t going to give Shinobu the satisfaction of a second. She continued to fall forward, kicking her legs up into the air when her hands came in contact with the ground. She could feel the displacement of air roll over her back, Shinobu had followed through with her strike and missed!

With all the force (Y/n) could muster, she torpedoed on her palms, attempting to catch Shinobu’s face with her foot, but Shinobu quickly cocked her head to the side and dropped her sword to the ground so she could brace her hands at (Y/n)’s ankle and knee. With a smirk, she twisted (Y/n)’s leg, and kicked out (Y/n)’s arms from under her, forcing her to the ground completely.

Before (Y/n) could attempt to scramble to her feet, Shinobu planted her foot firmly to the center of her back.

“That was an entertaining little display.” Shinobu cooed. “Where did you pick that up from? Weird boar boy?”

“Just get off of me already.” (Y/n) groused, she attempted to hit Shinobu’s ankle, but was not quite flexible enough to do more than brush against the offending foot.

“I didn’t hear you say you concede.” Shinobu knelt down, one knee in the dirt by (Y/n)’s side, foot still on the disgruntled Tsuguko’s back. She cupped a hand around her ear and got in real close, “Say it nice and loud so I can hear you, okay?”

So humiliating! (Y/n) stormed through the mansion after her devastating defeat to lick her wounds in peace. Shinobu always seemed to be one step ahead of her! Of course she was a Hashira, more skilled and practiced than (Y/n) was, but as a Tsuguko to the Flower Hashira, she should be able to last more than five minutes with Shinobu in a spar!

“Hey, everything okay in there?” Kanae had knocked on the door, “I see Shinobu is gloating again.”

(Y/n) opened the door to let Kanae in. Then she flooped back down on her bed and sighed.

“Master, please don’t take this the wrong way, but can’t you train me any harder? Or at least teach me all of your sister’s weaknesses?”

Kanae giggled, taking a seat on the edge of (Y/n)’s bed, “I don’t think that would be very fair. She would be angry with me for weeks, maybe longer. She can sure hold a grudge. As for training, I can only teach you so much… especially now that I have these Mount Natagumo spider slayers that are in need of a rigorous medication program in order to return to normal. I just don’t have the time to train you any more strenuously than I already do.”

“Oh…” though (Y/n) was already laying flat against the bed, she somehow seemed to sink further with her mounting disappointment.

“But there is something we could possibly do while Shinobu and I work on healing the spider slayers.”

(Y/n) perked up a bit, “What?”

“Mitsuri, the new Love Hashira. We got to become aquatinted at the last meeting. She’s a very sweet girl. It would probably do you both some good to train together. It would give Mitsuri a jumpstart on teaching experience and you would get tutelage from another Hashira. Seems like a win-win, doesn’t it?”

“Can you really set that up, Kanae-sama?” (Y/n) was sitting up now, much more excited.

“I don’t see why not. I’ll write her a letter an ask her if she’s busy. She can stay with us for a couple of days and over see your training until the spider slayers are more obviously on the mend.”

“Thank you, Kanae-sama!”

Things might just start looking up! She’d show Shinobu just how strong she could become!

***

Mitsuri was very sweet, almost too sweet. If (Y/n) wasn’t such a well-disciplined Tsuguko, they wouldn’t have gotten anything done. But for as green of a Hashira as Mitsuri was, she was incredibly strong! Maybe even more so than Kanae. Her actual teaching could use work, but (Y/n) felt like she was learning a lot and it was only the first day of three that Mitsuri would be available. She was going to really give Shinobu a run for her money the next time they decided to cross swords. Speaking of,

“Kanroji-san, what are you doing here?” Shinobu had happened by an open door and heard (Y/n) laughing, looking up from the stack of patient files she had in her arms, she had not expected to find her sparring with Mitsuri of all people.

“Oh, hi Shinobu!” Mitsuri loosened her hold on (Y/n) to wave at Shinobu, “Kanae asked me to help pick up on (Y/n)’s training while you guys are working hard with all of your new patients. I’d say things are going pretty well so far!”

“Surprise attack!” (Y/n) tried to pull Mitsuri to the ground. Mitsuri bent forward a little bit, but mostly stood her ground.

“Hey!” Mitsuri giggled, quickly switching the hold to put (Y/n) on the ropes instead, tickling (Y/n)’s sides to make her laugh and beg for mercy.

Shinobu wasn’t sure what it was, but she was not a fan of this new development. (Y/n) never laughed with her like that when they sparred… and why would she! Shinobu didn’t give a damn beyond adding another win to the score board. But they did look like they were having fun… getting along so quickly after only just meeting too… ARGH!

“Try not to go too hard on (Y/n), Kanroji-san. She’s fragile.”

(Y/n) gave Shinobu an annoyed look, “I am not. Kanroji-san can be as rough with me as she needs to be if I’m ever going to be a Hashira one day too.”

“That’ll be the day, won’t it?” Shinobu grumbled.

“I’m sure you’ll make a great Hashira one day (Y/n)! It would be so nice to get to see you more often.” Mitsuri beamed.

“That would be great!”

“That would be great.” Shinobu mocked under her breath as she walked away, the sound of the other girls laughter grating against her ears.

When she re-entered the infirmary and slammed the papers down on the table, Kanae looked up and observed her sister.

“What has you all broody?”

“I’m not broody.”

“If you say so…”

Kanae refocused her attention to the wiggly spider slayer in her arms. It was hard getting them to swallow their medication without giving them her full attention.

“Why didn’t you ask me to help (Y/n) with her training?” Shinobu suddenly spoke up after a few minutes.

“Hm? I figured you would rather do literally anything else. Besides, you’re helping me take care of all these new patients… Did you want to help (Y/n)?”

“No.” Shinobu answered hurriedly. “I just don’t think she and Mitsuri are taking the training seriously is all.”

Kanae looked at Shinobu from the corner of her eye and took note of her disgruntled expression. Such a cute, pouty frown. Kanae moved in to the next patient, a smile growing across her face as a sense of clarity came over her. She wondered just how long her stubborn little sister could hold out before her jealousy overtakes her pride.

Apparently the very same day.

“Kanroji-san, her stance is all wrong, see?” Shinobu had butted in between the two of them after Kanae had sent her off to eat lunch, but of course she could not simply walk past Mitsuri and (Y/n) when she had noticed (Y/n) stance was so blatantly off-balance.

“Oh! I guess you’re right Shinobu.” Mitsuri agreed.

“Stand with your feet further apart.” Shinobu mumbled, kicking (Y/n)’s foot further out, then twisting (Y/n)’s waist and adjusting the way she held her arms up and her grip around the practice sword.

Honestly, (Y/n)‘s stance was perfectly acceptable without Shinobu’s knit picking, but Shinobu had to find some excuse to put space between (Y/n) and Mitsuri. Why that was? She didn’t dwell on an answer.

“There, you feel that pull?” Shinobu asked and (Y/n) blinked back to life, having had gone somewhere else as Shinobu had gently pushed her body into place.

“Uh, yeah. Yeah, I feel it.”

“Good.”

Shinobu looked for every opportunity she could to step in. Only stopping when Kanae came looking for her and scolded her for letting Aoi’s lunch for her grow cold. She did end up eating with (Y/n) and Mitsuri though, which was good because… well, just because!

She squeezed between them at the table, getting gradually more annoyed as they talked over her head. She did manage to find one way to get (Y/n) to remember she was sitting right beside her.

“You have rice on your face.”

She reached out to brush her thumb over (Y/n)’s chin, coming away with a couple grains of rice.

(Y/n) blinked and subconsciously lifted her hand to her chin where her skin still tingled from Shinobu’s brief touch, “Oh… thanks.”

“You two are so cute!” Mitsuri sighed dreamily, “How long have you guys been together?”

Both (Y/n) and Shinobu’s heads snapped towards Mitsuri.

“We are not together!” They shouted in unison, startling Mitsuri.

“Ehh, really? I could have sworn… Just they way you two acted around each other today, I thought you might be a couple. I’m sorry if I made it awkward.”

“I’d rather cut off my own hands.” Shinobu scoffed, then she was startled by a heavy thump beside her as (Y/n)’s fists hit the table.

“Do you really have to go that far?” (Y/n) hissed, shooting up to her feet, “I’m so sorry the idea of being with me sounds so awful to you that you’d rather mutilate yourself. If you really hate me that much, then why don’t you leave me the fuck alone!”

“Well, you don’t exactly make it easy, do you?” Shinobu snapped back before she could think better of it, as was the risk being as hotheaded as she tended to be. She regretted it very soon after.

“All I ever wanted was for you to acknowledge me, to praise me just once instead of shooting me down. I thought competing with you was the only way to make you see me, but it only seemed to make things worse between us.”

She quickly rubbed beneath her eyes to catch any stupid tears that slipped over her resolve.

“Well, I know now that it will never happen so I’ll stay out of your way as long as you stay out of mine. And that means quit budging in on my training with Mitsuri!”

(Y/n) took Mitsuri by the arm and Mitsuri gave Shinobu an apologetic look, taking the rest of her plate with her as (Y/n) dragged her off.

“That probably couldn’t have gone worse if you tried.”

Shinobu snapped her attention to the other set of doors that lead outside. They slid open to reveal Kanae, who simply waltzed in as if she hadn’t been eavesdropping pretty much the whole time.

“What does it matter?” Shinobu spoke sharply, “I’ll finally have some peace around here.”

“You could have had a perfectly peaceful three days while Mitsuri was keeping her busy, but you couldn’t even last one without her.”

“Oh great, you thought we liked each other too, didn’t you?”

“If you would stop getting in your own way for a minute, you’d know it’s true. You two have always been trying to prove yourself to each other in some way, just not always the best way. Like it or not, you are each other’s drive to do better.”

Shinobu opened her mouth to argue, but Kanae have gave her a warning look before continuing on,

“I hope you two will realize your being silly and work this out before too long. If anyone here really needs peace from your overstayed rivalry, it’s me,” she teasingly ruffled Shinobu’s hair, “For now, I need your help back in the infirmary.”

With an annoyed grunt, Shinobu followed Kanae back to the infirmary. All the while she ranted within her mind. Everyone in this mansion was delusional. The only feelings she had for (Y/n) were ones of annoyance. But when she passed by the open door near the infirmary again and saw (Y/n) and Mitsuri cuddled up together in the grass, her heart betrayed her mind by pounding against her chest. Almost as if to burst right between her ribs and flop in the grass until it finally reached its destination. If Shinobu wouldn’t go to (Y/n), it would reach her on its own.

“Keep walking, Shinobu~” Kanae lightly warned, “If you want your peace, you must leave them be.”

Shinobu grit her teeth and continued off to the infirmary despite her heart’s protests. This is what she wanted, her heart would just have to deal with it.

***

The healing of the spider slayers was going much slower than anticipated. To Shinobu’s very much internal dismay, Kanae had asked Mitsuri if she could stay just a few days more, maybe a whole other week. For a moment, Shinobu thought things would finally go back to normal because Mitsuri simply couldn’t get anymore time away, but then Kanae suggested she take (Y/n) with her to keep training her until the spider slayers were closer to being cured.

To Shinobu’s dismay, both Mitsuri and (Y/n) found the idea favorable and the left together sometime that afternoon when Shinobu was busy making more stupid spider medicine.

“You seem to be grinding those herbs extra hard,” Kanae had noted, “I’m sorry, had I known you wanted to see them off, I would have come to get you, but you wouldn’t want to miss out on any peace and quiet, wouldn’t you?”

Damn her, Shinobu thought. It didn’t matter if she got to see (Y/n) off or not. She’d be back before she knew it, and in a way she was right, but not in the way she wanted to be.

Only two nights after (Y/n) had left with Mitsuri, she was being carried back in by the frantic Hashira that had taken her, bloody and unresponsive.

“I’m so sorry, Kanae!” Mitsuri cried, “I got distracted during the mission and didn’t notice right away that (Y/n) had been lured into an ambush pursuing a fleeing demon. She fought them off as long as she could before I could get to her, but… I feel awful! I didn’t know what to do, will she be okay?”

“Sit, Mitsuri,” Kanae soothed, “you got her here as fast as you could, that’s what matters. Let me take it from here—“

Shinobu pushed passed Kanae to (Y/n)’s cot, “This isn’t the time for talk, we need to get to work, now!” She demanded angrily.

“Shinobu,” Kanae warned, “if you want to help, you have to calm down. You won’t do her any good if you let your brashness cut corners.”

Shinobu continued to peer down at (Y/n)’s battered body and try as she might to quiet her boiling rage to a simmer, she could not. She was furious. Furious at the demons, even Kanae and Mitsuri to a lesser extent, but most of all she felt angry with herself. If she wasn’t so attached to her pride and stubbornness, maybe none of this would have happened. Maybe her last words to (Y/n) wouldn’t have been so harsh. What if she died before Shinobu could apologize?

“Shinobu, leave.” Kanae made the difficult call upon seeing her sister’s wide-eyed distress, but Shinobu shook her head, refusing to let go of (Y/n)’s hand.

Kanae exhaled sharply, there was no time for this. She wasn’t going to lose her Tsuguko because of her sister’s guilty hovering.

“Shinobu,” the harsh tone made Shinobu flinch, “out. I promise to let you back in once I’ve administered proper care. Mitsuri, take her out with you please.”

Shinobu numbly allowed Mitsuri to lead her away, keeping her eyes on (Y/n) until a Kakushi closed the door behind them. Unwilling to stray any further, Shinobu slid to the ground opposite the infirmary, and waited. Straining her hearing for any hint of what was going on beyond the door.

“You care about her a lot,” Mitsuri spoke up softly after a few long minutes of silence, “why haven’t you told her?”

If that wasn’t the million dollar question… Shinobu kept silent.

“Well, don’t worry. Kanae is going to get her all fixed up and then you can tell her all the things you wanted to say, okay?”

What did Mitsuri know? Shinobu thought bitterly. Shinobu saw that gash on her forehead, that deep wound in her belly, no one could say with one hundred percent certainty that (Y/n) would recover from this.

“You should practice what you want to say.” Mitsuri said, hoping to distract Shinobu from her dark thoughts, “I’ll talk through it with you, if you want. I’m rooting for you guys.”

Part of Shinobu wanted to tell Mitsuri to mind her own business, but she really did need the help if she was going to go through with this properly. So she took a deep breath, and took a step in the right direction.

When Kanae came out of the infirmary hours later, Shinobu and Mitsuri rocketed up from the floor and before they could bombard Kanae with questions, she held up her hands and said,

“She’s going to be okay. You can go see for yourselves.”

And when Shinobu rushed to (Y/n)’s side, she definitely did look better already. Blood washed away, wounds expertly stitched, clean bandages and clothes. Shinobu hunkered down in the chair by her bedside, scooting it as close to the bed as she could before taking (Y/n)’s hand and holding between her own.

Kanae smiled and shook her head. It was a very rude awakening, but at the very least Shinobu was heading in the right direction now. She went to rest knowing (Y/n) would be well looked after.

***

When (Y/n) awoke, the harsh light burned her eyes so she quickly shut them as soon as she opened them. Her body felt heavy and stiff. She couldn’t even wiggle her fingers. Well, none on her left hand anyway. She couldn’t remember the demons doing anything that would warrant a cast over her hand, but there was too much going on to process every injury fully, she imagined. It was weird how warm and sweaty the cast had made her hand though. It was a little uncomfortable.

(Y/n) tried to flip to her side instead of laying flat on her back, but found she was too weak to do it and groaned quietly. The ‘cast’ around her hand constricted in a light squeeze and a soft voice hushed her. Kanae, she assumed. Kanae must be with her, holding her hand. That made sense. Oh, her poor Master. It must have been hard to see her like that.

She tried to open her eyes again, blinking several times before she could even hold a squint. Though her vision was still a bit blurry, it was clearly not Kanae by her bedside. No, it was… was it really Shinobu?

“(Y/n), you’re awake.” Shinobu sounded so relieved that (Y/n) wasn’t so sure she had actually woken up.

“You’re holding my hand.” She blurted. No filter with her head injury apparently.

“Do you want me to stop?” Shinobu asked awkwardly, no bite whatsoever, nor true embarrassment at getting caught. She just seemed… shy, maybe a little uncertain.

“No… it’s fine.” Though she would have liked to air out her hand a little, she didn’t want to risk Shinobu getting offended and breaking whatever spell had come over her.

“I, I have a lot I need to say to you. Will you hear me out?”

Though (Y/n) was nervous, she nodded, managing to free her fingers to wrap them over Shinobu’s hand that cradled her own beneath the other. Shinobu took in a shaky breath, than began as she and Mitsuri had practiced.

***

One Month Later

“You aren’t back to full strength yet, don’t be so discouraged.” Shinobu spoke softly to (Y/n) as she helped her up from the cushy training room floor.

“But still,” (Y/n) pouted, hugging Shinobu and looking for further comfort once she was on her feet again, “I wanna beat you just once, is that so much to ask for?”

“Put those puppy eyes away. We both know you wouldn’t be satisfied if I just let you win.” Shinobu said, rubbing (Y/n)’s back.

“No, it would still be satisfying. The only real reason you won’t let me win is because you’re too proud of your flawless record of beating me to the ground.”

“Don’t say it like that.”

“But it’s truuue.” (Y/n) nuzzled her nose into Shinobu’s neck, making her laugh, “kiss me and make me feel better?”

“I guess I can give you that much.”

Shinobu coaxed (Y/n)’s face out of her neck with her hands on either side of her face and brought her in for kiss. She had only meant for it to be a short one, but (Y/n) had made it difficult to want to pull away, not that Shinobu really minded all that much. Not until she found herself suddenly pinned to the ground at least.

“I win!” (Y/n) grinned.

“No you don’t,” Shinobu frowned, “this wasn’t a match.”

“I didn’t actually say I forfeited, remember? This match is still on, baby!”

“Then my position still stands, you haven’t won anything yet,” Shinobu struggled against (Y/n)’s hold until she was nearly red in the face, but still she didn’t budge, “don’t you know cheaters never prosper?”

“All is fair in love and war, my dearest Shinobu.” (Y/n) giggled. “Are you gonna forfeit yet?”

Shinobu snuck her hands up (Y/n)’s back, making her shiver, she chuckled darkly, the same competitive glint in her eyes as always as she pulled the her girlfriend down to her lips.

“You wish.”

#demon slayer oneshots #kny oneshots #demon slayer x reader #kny x reader #shinobu x reader #shinobu kocho x reader #shinobu kochou x reader #requests #tesseok

[sebastianswallows]

A new family — Chapter 7

— PAIRING: dark!Ominis Gaunt x F!MC

— SYNOPSIS: Ominis gets tired of his family and how miserable life is with them after he graduates. So he follows Sebastian's example for once, and kills them in cold blood. Now that he has the mansion to himself, he discovers he would still like to have a family, but one of his own making.

— WARNINGS: just a whole lot of sweetness 🐍💚

— WORDCOUNT: 1.4k

— TAGLIST: @littletealight @skarathewitch @myrachondria @mrimperio @ssnapsaurus @tarotwitchy-main @hufflepuff-16 @shameless0shenanigans @imaslytherpuff @adoxra

“Yes.”

“What?”

“Yes,” she laughed.

“O-oh,” said Ominis with a smiling stutter. “That… was easier than I anticipated.”

He had no chance to say anything else, because she threw herself into his arms. Her cheek was warm next to his, her grip as strong around his shoulders as his was around her waist, and their legs were tangled on the floor. Their hearts beat together. His eyes closed in pleasure as her scent filled his lungs.

“I would kill for you,” he whispered.

“I know,” she said.

“I think I have. I think when… when I… my parents…”

“I know…”

“It was to clear the way for you. All along, it was for you.”

“You don’t have to kill for me,” she said, pulling back to brush a thumb over his beautiful cheekbones, and smiled. “Although I appreciate it all the same.”

Ominis chuckled and cupped her hand as it caressed him. He held it there as he leaned in close enough to feel her breath, to feel the warmth of her skin against his own, and she closed the space between them with a kiss. A shiver washed over his body at the feeling. He realised at that moment that he didn’t even know what he’d been missing. It was the first touch of real gentleness and love he’d ever felt, and against which the rest of his life would be compared.

He hugged her tight, and turned her in his arms, and sat with her hugged to his front between his outstretched legs when he slid the ring around her finger. It was the perfect fit, something to which he went to great lengths to ensure, taking samples with loose threads while they lay in bed together after reading.

She took the time to admire it before letting him slip it on, and spotted on the inside the engraving he’d asked for: two coiled snakes that filled the space between the beginning and the ending of the phrase Amor vincit omnia.

He used a hand gloved with her gift to crown her finger with it, and tasted with delight the melding of the colour of the gold against her flesh. “It’s warm, like sunlight falling straight on the tongue. And you, my dear, taste sweet.”

“Not as sweet as you, I think,” she smiled, then leaned in to kiss him on the lips, “but let me just make sure…”

When they visited Poppy and Everett and a few of their other friends on Boxing day, they kept the ring hidden beneath a pair of gloves, and only announced their engagement when they went to see her parents. They were sweet to Ominis, if a little deferential — they had never met a Gaunt before, and her telling them that he was ‘not like the others’ did little to ease their fears. Nevertheless, the pair left her family home in a much warmer and more emotional tone than they had arrived.

They kept the ceremony small, with her family and all their friends and a few of their professors invited. It was March by then. They wed on the Vernal Equinox.

Even Sebastian was invited, although he didn’t show — gone on a relic hunt in Cyprus, or so he wrote when he sent his compliments. If she felt slighted by their best friend’s absence, Ominis couldn’t tell. She was sweet and lovely and hung on his arm throughout the day for the ceremony and into the night for the dinner — arranged in the middle of Gaunt Manor’s rose garden — and then they bid all their guests goodbye.

The festivity went on until sunrise, with fireworks and songs and dance and the crystal chime of toasts. They could hear it from her bedroom, where they retreated. It wasn’t the first time they cuddled in the dark, still partly dressed and tired, but tonight had a significance to it that was so great neither of them could even acknowledge it. They kissed, and held each other, and buried their faces in the other’s neck and hair and chest, but did nothing else than cuddle like lovebirds until they fell asleep.

The morning was the more awkward part, once the rush of everything and the bravery of firewhisky washed away, but they just smiled and held each other tighter.

The typical thing to do for a honeymoon, so they’d heard, was to visit relatives. They agreed together not to do that. Ominis’ were few and far away, other branches of Gaunts who were disappointed not only by the mysterious disappearance of his parents and siblings but also that Ominis himself was now no longer eligible to marry any of their daughters. Meanwhile, her parents were… simply understanding of their need to be alone.

So they kept to themselves, and life went on just as before.

“Do I get to call you ‘darling’ now when we have breakfast?”

“You can call me ‘darling’ any time. In fact, I’d rather you did.”

“Really? You don’t think it’s condescending?”

“Why would I? Do you not mean it?”

She laughed. He’d caught her there…

Across the table, she reached for his hand and started playing with his wedding band. After he’d given her hers, she slipped out one day and bought one for him too, surprising him with it that very evening. The inside was engraved with a pair of hands interlinked, rather than snakes, and the inscription in life and in death. A poignant homage not many would read too deeply into, but Ominis smirked when he ran his finger across it.

They kissed before their first breakfast as husband and wife, and after it, and then strolled through the garden among the remains of the party. The guests had left on their own, and they did their best to tidy up, but the lawn was still the scene of some chaos. Birds had descended to pick at the crumbs and a few rabbits, awoken from their winter burrows, hopped over the overturned chairs.

“I have my wand on me, I could disapparate all of it.”

“No need, my darling. The elves can attend to it.”

His head then turned to the left. Still holding his hand, she followed him as he walked toward one of the bushes.

“What is it?” she asked.

Ominis only smiled and pulled her forward. When they got close enough, she saw there was a little grass snake there, brown with a white collar and pale belly. Its head swayed a bit above the ground as it flicked its tongue out. The tip of its tail was curled around a branch just above the ground as if it were holding itself steady.

“Say something to it,” she asked Ominis, hand pressed against his shoulder.

“Wait. He’s speaking now,” he chuckled, crouching to be closer to the snake. “He’s asking why last night was so noisy. He knows this is my property, and he’s complaining.”

Ominis’ laughing voice then turned to a silky hiss, and she was left impressed once again by his gift. It crossed her mind for the briefest second that she need not be envious, as any child of theirs had the chance to inherit it — but she pushed down that impish and imprudent thought before she began to blush.

“What did you tell him?” she quietly asked when he was done.

“I apologised,” he smirked. “And told him I had a wedding party.”

The snake hissed at him again and Ominis replied with what sounded like a pleased and haughty tone.

“Do snakes even know what a wedding is?”

“Well,” he tilted his head up at her with a smile, “I used his terms.”

“Which are?”

Ominis straightened back up and took her hand again. “I don’t think you’d like to hear them.”

“Come on, tell me,” she laughed as they started walking around the garden again.

He seemed to think about it for a few minutes, but it was impossible for him to wipe that smug grin away.

“I said it was our courtship dance. And that we are now mated.”

“So you lied to him.”

“How so?”

“We had our courtship dance long ago,” she smirked. “And we haven’t mated yet.”

“You are vulgar.”

“You like it.”

“Yes.”

“How do snakes court each other?”

“Well, it depends on the species,” he began, his fingers tightened around hers. “Some like to rub against the one they’re courting, or hiss and lick at her sleek body. Some do elegant contortions or dances, presenting themselves…”

“And how do they mate?”

“They curl around each other. Sometimes for hours, sometimes for days… Just lying tightly together in a burrow or among the grass.”

“Oh that does sound sweet…”

“Do you like that?”

“Now who’s being vulgar?” she said cheekily.

“Why?” asked Ominis with an innocent voice. “Do you wish to try it?”

#Ominis Gaunt #hl #Ominis Gaunt fanfiction #ominis gaunt imagine #Hogwarts Legacy imagine #Ominis Gaunt x Reader #Ominis Gaunt x MC #Hogwarts Legacy MC #sswallow;made a thing #sswallow;fanfics #sswallow;a new family

[sequinsmile-x]

The Games We Play - Chapter 2

She’d survived the very worst a person could, lived through things that still kept her up at night, the screams of other innocent people ringing in her head as sleep evaded her.

She’d survived so much, but she didn’t think she’d survive leading him to his death. 

A Hunger Games AU

-x-

Hi friends,

Thanks so much for the reaction to chapter 1 <3

AU's in general are always nerve wracking, but this one feels even more so because I am aware it's a little bit of an out-there idea. I really appreciate the support on this unhinged little fic, and I really hope you like this chapter.

Please let me know what you think!

-x-

Words: 4.6k

A full list of warnings can be found on the series master list

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

She seeks him out on the train. 

He’d left the dining carriage not long after they left the district, and at first, she leaves him to it, giving him the space she remembers needing herself. It was strange to leave home, the only place you’d ever been, and not know if you’d be coming alive or in a body bag. Not everyone even got that, the brutality that the tributes sometimes showed each other beyond imagination, as if the Capitol had truly won in convincing them all that they were each other's enemies. Their gaze and anger turned inwards, instead of all of them looking out to see who was using them like chess pieces. 

She goes looking for him for a couple of hours, Kate’s crying eventually getting to her, too many memories of other tributes who hadn’t come home haunting her. The ghosts of children whose faces she’d never forget in every reflective surface she walked past. 

She finds him at the back of the train looking out of the large window, scenery they’d otherwise never get to see speeding past them, hints of life and freedom in the birds that flew between the trees. She clears her throat as she steps into the carriage and he looks up at her, his smile tight as their eyes meet. 

“Want me to leave you alone?” She asks, not stepping any closer to him and he shakes his head. 

“No,” he replies, “I wouldn’t mind the company.”

She nods and walks towards him, revealing that she has two glasses of scotch behind her back, smiling wryly as she tries to hand him one, “Here, I brought you this.”

He frowns, the smell from the glass familiar, the scent of alcohol something he thinks he might always associate with his father, “We’re not ol-”

“We’re old enough to die for a TV show,” she says, pressing the drink into his hand before she sits next to him, “I think we’re old enough to have a drink.”

He pauses for a moment and considers arguing with her. He thinks about putting the drink down, ignoring that she’d brought it to him, but he doesn’t. There was something about it pulling him in, the chance to break the rules, to do something he’d never done before, tempting as he thinks about the fact his days are numbered. He nods and takes a sip, something simmering in his gut when she smiles widely at him. 

He’d never been able to say no to her anyway. 

She laughs at him when he grimaces at the taste, at the burn in the back of his throat, and for a moment they are children again, playing in her mother’s house with no regard for anything other than the fun they were having. The train jolts and pulls them out of it, bringing them back to the harsh reality they were in. 

“Can I ask you something?” She asks, and he nods in response, “What happened with you and Haley?” 

He smiles sadly, scratching the back of his head as he thinks of his ex-girlfriend, the woman he thought he’d one day marry, “We talked about the future. She wanted kids. I don’t,” he sighs and shakes his head, “I can’t imagine bringing a child into this world and then potentially sending them into this.” 

Emily nods even though he’s not looking at her, blowing out a steady breath, “I know what you mean. Especially now I’m a victor.” 

He looks up at her, his eyebrows knitting together with curiosity. He’s so close she could reach out and touch the line it creates between his eyebrows, press her thumb into the ravine that she’s sure would get so much deeper as he got older. 

If he ever got older. 

“Why?” 

She smiles sadly, “The kid of a victor would almost be guaranteed to go in the games,” she says her lips pressed together as she shrugs, “It makes good TV. It would show even the strongest of us aren’t protected.” 

There’s a pause, and it stretches out between them. Tied together with threads of their separate histories, tattered edges knotting together to create a morbid tapestry. 

“What about you and that guy from District One?” He asks, breaking the silence, his voice soft, as if he was afraid to ask. 

She smiles wryly, “Ian?” She says and he nods, making her chuckle, “Don’t believe everything you read, Aaron. He’s just a guy who won’t take no for an answer.” 

He isn’t sure what to say to that, how to feel about the wave of protectiveness that washes over him, so he clenches his teeth and decides to move the conversation on. 

“Where’s Kate?” He asks, looking at the amber liquid in his glass before he takes another sip, this one going down easier than the first. 

“Dave’s comforting her,” she replies, looking out the window, her gaze fixed on the trees, “She’s upset,” she says, even though it’s obvious. She looks at him and takes a moment to study him as he continues to look at his drink. He was handsome, he always had been, but the boyishness that had once been in his features had faded away. Sharp features had replaced once rounder ones as if they’d cut through from underneath, pushing away innocence and childhood with the harsh realities of life. He looks up at her and she clears her throat, pushing down the embarrassment that she feels at being caught staring at him, “What you did was really brave.” 

He laughs wryly and nods, blowing out a slow breath before he finishes his drink. It was objectively brave, he knew that, if he’d seen anyone else do it he’d think the same thing, but he didn’t feel brave. He couldn’t have let his brother do this, couldn’t let him march towards certain death when he could help. 

He wasn’t sure it counted as bravery when it was his only option. 

“He’s my brother,” he says simply, “I only did what was right,” he says as he puts down his empty glass. He can see her start to argue with him, the pinch between her brows something he’d seen countless times before, so he cuts her off before she can, “So, how does this work? Do you and Dave train us both? Do we have a mentor each?” 

She sighs at the change of subject but lets it slide, well aware that he needed to deal with this in the way he needed to, that her feelings weren’t important in any of this, “One each - I’ll be working with you, Dave will be with Kate.” 

He frowns, “I saw you with Tara last year,” he says, feeling momentarily regretful when she flinches for a second, a brief reaction she can’t control at the mention of the female tribute from the year before. She’d almost made it, survived until the final three, and then was killed by a career tribute from District One, “Don’t you usually work with the female tribute?” 

She nods, pressing her lips together to gather herself, “Yes but, because we’re friends Dave suggested I work with you,” she says, the lie slipping past her lips easily. 

She used to hate lying, used to think the truth was always the better option no matter what, but one thing she’d learnt since leaving the arena was that lying was the way to keep everyone she cared about safe. She’d asked Dave if she could work with Aaron and had ignored his concern. Selfishly, she wanted to spend as much time with Aaron as she could, so if she did lose him, if she had to watch him die helplessly and keep a straight face, she would be able to tell herself that she’d done her very best to help him. 

He chuckles wryly, “Friends? Em, we’ve barely spoken since I started to date…” he drifts off and shakes his head, cut off by the look of hurt that flashes across her face, guilt sparking in his gut, and the thought of his ex-girlfriend, her name turning to ash on his tongue at the thought of how she must be feeling about all of this. He sighs, “Look, that wasn’t fair. I’m-”

“No,” she says, tucking her loose hair behind her ear, “You’re right. I haven’t…” she sighs and a humourless laugh escapes her, “It’s not been an easy few years.” 

The guilt in his belly catches fire, spreading through his blood as he reaches out and places his hand on her arm. It’s only when he does it that he realises it’s been years since he’d touched her, and he feels like an addict, the desire to never let go forcing him to do just that, his hand springing back like he’d been burned. 

“I am sorry, Em,” he says, smiling tightly at her, “I can’t imagine how you’ve felt since you came back.” 

She looks down at her arm where he touched her, his warmth lingering where his palm had been. She knows she’ll inspect her skin later, that she’ll check to see if he’d left a mark behind, if he’d somehow branded her with a simple touch because she can almost feel it burn. She looks up at him and smiles, and she shrugs half-heartedly. 

“Well, in a few weeks when we’re back on this train, you’ll know.” 

It’s false optimism neither of them buy into, but he can’t help but smile back at her, “Yeah,” he replies, “I will.”

___

She’s running. 

Her lugs hurt, her feet her almost numb with pain, a dampness in her shoes she knows is blood and not water, but she can’t stop running.

Her life depends on it. 

“You can run, but you can’t hide pretty. The things I’ll do to you when I catch you.” 

She’s only forced further forward by Karl’s words, by the foul implication dripping from them. She’d seen what he’d done to some of the other girls, and had seen the joy he’d derived from it. Emily wasn’t going to give him the pleasure of killing her, she was going to outlive him or she was going out on her own terms.

She curses as she realises she’s run into a dead end, her feet just touching the cliff edge as she comes to a stop. She can hear him gaining on her, his thundering footsteps getting louder, and she closes her eyes, giving herself a second, one final moment of peace, but when she opens her eyes she sees a shimmer in the sky. It’s almost discernible from the blue of the fake sky in above her but she sees it. She chuckles as she remembers what Dave had told her about the forcefield, about the edge of the arena, and she pulls her knife out of her pocket. She looks over her shoulder and sees that Karl is right behind her, a smirk on his face as if he had won already. She looks straight ahead and she throws the knife, immediately ducking as it hits the forcefield and bounces back. She’s knocked to the ground by the force of the soundwaves that echo around her, her hand automatically covering her ears as she tries to protect them. 

Everything goes eerily silent, everything overwhelmingly quiet after so much nose, and her hands shake as she removes them from her ears. Her arms are unsteady as she pushes herself up off the ground. She walks over to where Karl is lying, the same smirk still painted on his face, a grim flash burn of the last moment of his life, and her knife planted firmly in the centre of his chest. 

She jumps when the canon goes off, half convinced until that moment she’d lost her hearing, and she looks up at the sky, Karl’s face briefly emblazoned on it, before the disembodied voice of the game maker fills the arena. 

“Ladies and Gentleman, the winner of this year's Hunger Games - Emily Prentiss.”

___

Aaron was exhausted. 

No matter how much training they did, how much preparation Emily had put him through the last few days, he couldn’t sleep. It alluded him, forever out of reach as he slept in a bedroom bigger than his childhood home. 

He’s walking around the apartment they’d been assigned when he hears her scream, the sound of it pulling him towards her room immediately. When he walks in she’s wrapped up in the bed sheets, twisting in the bed as if she’s trying to escape from something he can’t see. He runs over and sits on the edge of Emily’s bed, placing his hand on her sheet-covered knee and squeezing as he says her name.

“Em,” he says, quietly at first, not wanting to startle her, “Em, you need to wake up,” he says, shifting closer, his hand skating up her side as it lands on her shoulder. He turns her towards him and the look on her face, the devastation she couldn’t escape even in her sleep, makes him ache, “Sweetheart, please,” he says, the nickname slipping out of nowhere as he begs her to come back to him, “Wake up.” 

She sits up so fast that their foreheads would have collided if he hadn’t moved, a gasp loud enough to shake the walls escaping her as she looks at him, her eyes wide. She tries to shift away, as if she doesn’t recognise him, still half asleep as she tries to shake the rest of the nightmare off. 

“Emily, it’s me. It’s Aaron.” 

She breathes heavily, her chest rapidly moving up and down as she frowns at him, recognition finally seeping into her eyes, “Aaron?”

“Yeah,” he says, smiling encouragingly as he rests his hand on her shoulder again, grateful when she doesn’t flinch, “It’s me. I was walking past and I heard you.” 

She frowns, “Heard me what?” 

He presses his lips together briefly as he weighs up his options, but he knows she needs the truth, “I heard you scream.” 

“Oh,” she says, clearing her throat, her cheeks burning with embarrassment, “I’m sorry.” 

“You have nothing to apologise for,” he says, smiling softly at her. His gaze drifts to his hand on her shoulder and he lets it drop to the mattress, “Were you dreaming about the games?”

She nods, her hand pressed against her chest as her heart still hammers at her rib cage, the beat of it so hard she thinks her ribs might crack, that the places the Capitol doctors had put her back together would slowly unravel.

“Yeah,” she says, her nerves too shot from the nightmare to deny it, “It’s always the same moment.” 

He’d watched her games, and had felt relief when she’d won. It was the only one he remembers all the details of, the names of the other tributes forever burned into his memory.

They were people he’d prayed would die so the girl he loved would win. 

“What moment?” He asks without thinking, his eyes going wide as he realises what he’s said, “You don’t have to-”

“When I won,” she says, cutting over him, feeling a strange sense of relief in finally saying this to someone. She was under no illusion that her mother hadn’t heard her screams. Elizabeth made her coffee on the mornings after the worst nights, or sent for her favourite bread from the bakery. A silent apology that would have to do, because Emily knew if her mother asked about it, if she acknowledged what her daughter had gone through, the house of cards they’d built around themselves stuck together with half-truths and platitudes would come crumbling down, “It’s always the moment when I won.”

He nods, “The knife and the forcefield,” he says, “I didn’t know what you were doing at first.” 

She hums sadly, shaking her head she repeats the words she’d heard again and again anytime she saw footage of any of the games - hers included.

“The moment a tribute becomes a Victor,” she says, doing an impersonation of Penelope that gets a smile out of him that she matches, “Not that there are any Victors,” she says, her smile fading, “Just survivors.” 

Her words are heavy in the air, laying like a cloying blanket over them, an acknowledgement that even if he won that he’d never be free trapping them in place. He eventually clears his throat and starts to stand up.

“Well, I should go back-”

“Please stay,” she says, reaching out and grabbing his wrist before she can stop herself, her basic instinct to keep him close winning out over everything else, “I…please stay.” 

He doesn’t have to think about it, he simply nods and climbs into bed next to her, careful to make sure he’s on the other side of the mattress from her, their bodies not touching as they lay next to each other. For a moment it’s awkward but he turns his head to look at her, a half smile on his face as her eyes meet his.

“I think this bed is bigger than my bedroom at home.” 

She chuckles and rests her head back on her pillow, “I will give the Capitol one thing,” she says, blowing out a shaky breath, “They sure know how to make a mattress.” 

When they wake up in the morning they are tangled together on his side of the bed, wrapped up like vines that had grown side by side, destined to become indistinguishable from one another.

___

“He needs to smile more.” 

Emily doesn’t look at Dave, doesn’t tear her eyes from the screen as she slaps his chest with one hand, the other by her mouth as she bites her cuticles, “He’s doing fine.” 

“He’s lucky he has the whole volunteering for his brother thing on his side,” Dave says as he steps closer to the TV, Aaron’s one-on-one interview with Jason Gideon, the host of the games, happening live in front of them, “Let’s be honest, not a lot of star power on that screen right now.”

“Shut up Dave,” she says, finally turning from the screen and looking at him, “He’s doing his best. I didn’t do great either.” 

He nods thoughtfully, “True. I think that was the first time they’d ever had to censor a 15-year-old on the show before.” 

She chuckles and looks back at the screen, blowing out a slow breath as she looks at the other tributes sitting behind Aaron as he speaks to Gideon, her gaze fixed on one of them in particular, “I don’t like the look of him.” 

Dave frowns as he leans in and gets a closer look, “Oh, that intense guy from four? What was his name…”

“George Foyet,” she says, turning to look at him, “He reminds me of Karl. I think he’ll get a kick out of it all.” 

“He does have that look about him,” Dave replies, watching her carefully, concern washing over him. She was clearly close to Aaron, or had been at some point, and he was worried she was setting herself up to get hurt. It hadn’t escaped his notice that Aaron’s room had been untouched for days and that Emily wasn’t screaming in the middle of the night anymore. “Bella, are you-”

“Shh,” she says, tuning back into what was being said, aware that the conversation was wrapping up. 

“So, do you have a special lady waiting back home?” Gideon asks and Aaron looks down at his hands before he looks at the camera and he shakes his head. 

“No, I used to but…” he trails off and shakes his head, “We broke up.”

“That’s a shame,” Gideon replies, leaning forward in his chair towards Aaron, “There must be someone else though, someone else you’ve had your eye on.” 

Aaron sighs and Emily swears she can see his thought process, can see him physically weighing up the pros and cons of what he was about to say, “Well, there is someone. I’ve loved her for as long as I can remember” he says, his smile tight, “But it won’t ever work.” 

“Why not?”

Aaron looks down the camera, an intensity in his eyes that, for a moment, makes Emily feel like he’s talking directly to her, “Because I came here with her.” 

She feels her breath catch in her chest as she flicks her gaze to where Kate is sitting on the stage, any vague hope she’d felt the last few days, waking up in his arms even when they fell asleep on separate parts of the bed, gone in an instant. 

“Well I’ll be damned,” Dave says, shaking his head, “Maybe he does have it in him.” 

“Yeah,” Emily says, swallowing thickly, “Maybe he does.”

___

She avoids him after the interviews, purposely changing the habits she’d formed in the time they’d been in the Capitol, and it takes him a while to find her using the tactics she’d taught him on how to track someone against her.

He finds her on the roof of the building, her elbows resting on the edge as she looks out over the city. The fireworks going off in the distance make him feel sick, the celebratory feeling in the air more akin to that of a festival rather than marking the start of the death match between children that would begin in the morning. 

“Emily?”

She turns to look at him, her smile fake, the one she always wore in front of her mother or the cameras, as their eyes meet, “Aaron, what are you doing up here?” 

“Looking for you,” he replies, walking over to join her, “You disappeared.” 

“I don’t have the privilege of being able to disappear,” she says, her grip on the wall in front of her tightening as the smell of him washes over her. He smelt different here, clean and fresh in a way that wasn’t always possible at home, the Capitol’s array of soaps something that had surprised even her and her relative privilege when she first came here. He smelt different, but there was something that was still him sneaking out from underneath, “Don’t you want to spend the evening with Kate?” 

She regrets it as soon as she asks it, pettiness winning out for a second. It could be his last night in some sense of normality before he died and she was upset because her feelings had been hurt, her unrequited love for him that had followed her everywhere her whole life making itself known at the worst possible time. She looks up at him, expecting to see the sting of her words on his face, but she’s only met with confusion.

“Kate?” He asks, and then it clicks into place, the assumption she must have made when he was speaking to Gideon, trying to win some kind of favour with the audience. He’d thought about his literature class at school, how the teacher had always told them that a love story pulled people in, and he’d thought of Emily. Thought of how her seat had been empty during that class because she’d been here in the Capitol, ready to fight for her life. He’d loved her for so long that it had felt good to admit it, even if it wasn’t the whole truth, “Oh, no. Em-”

“I’m sorry,” she says, turning to walk away, “I think I’m just tired-” she’s stopped as he grabs her shoulders and turns her to look at him, his expression intense, a hint of fierceness to it that makes her breath catch in her throat, “What-”

He cuts her off, his words falling free before he can even think about stopping them. He could be brave now. 

He might not have many chances left, 

“I wasn’t talking about her,” he says, dropping his hands from her shoulders, both of them frozen in place, “I was talking about you.” 

It’s everything she’s ever wanted to hear at the worst possible time, and her chest shudders as she lets out a choked noise somewhere between a laugh and a sob, “Me?”

“Well, I wasn’t talking about Dave,” he says, offering her a half smile that fades as she doesn’t respond to the joke, “Em-”

“Why did you never say anything?”

“You stopped talking to me,” he says, no malice in his voice, only confusion that somehow made him seem younger. 

“I was protecting you,” she says quietly, “President Barnes, she…well let's just say, the people close to Victor’s don’t always have the longest life expectancy. The entire time I was in that arena I told myself if I lived I’d tell you. I’d admit what I’d always been too scared to…but I wanted you to live and be happy,” she laughs bitterly, “Even if it was with someone else.” 

He knows her well enough to read between the lines and he steps closer, the space between them so small now he can feel her breath skip across his face, “Are you saying…”

She nods, her eyes boring straight into his, an intensity in the darkness of them he’d never seen before, “I love you too.” 

Everything shifts, everything he thought he knew suddenly different, and the lingering fear he’d felt for days about what he was about to do disappears. For a moment he feels nothing but love for her. He leans in to kiss her, drawn in by the way she’s looking at him, but she stops him, her fingers pressed against his lips as she shakes her head desperately. It physically hurts to stop him but she can’t let herself have this, can’t have a taste of him when he might die tomorrow. 

“No,” she says, the word catching in her throat, “I can’t. You’re…I’ve dreamt of this for years and I don’t think one kiss, one evening would ever be enough,” she says, her thumb still resting against his lower lip, her entire body aching to lean forward to kiss him, “I can’t spend the rest of my life desperately trying to remember what it was like to kiss you.” 

He wishes he could pretend that he didn’t understand, but he does. Any amount of time with her would never be enough. Whether it was one night or a lifetime, and if he was her, if he was the one sending her off to what could end up being her death, he knew he couldn’t do it either. That the unknown was better, that it would allow her imagination to live on after him. He tightens his hold on her, pulling her into a fierce hug so he doesn’t go against her wishes, settling for kissing the top of her head instead, for smelling her hair and the shampoo that had always been too nice for where they came from.

“How about,” he says, a hand on either side of her face as he pulls back to look at her, his thumbs catching tears as they land on her cheeks, “ If I live, I’ll take you on a date when I get back?” 

She chokes out a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob and she shakes her head as she presses her forehead against his, “Aaron…” 

He cups the back of her head and encourages her backwards again, the same smile she’d fallen in love with when she was too young to understand what it meant painted across his face, “Come on,” he says encouragingly, “Give a man going off to his death something to live for.” 

She has to bite back the tears, not wanting his last memory of her to be one full of sorrow. She blows out a shaky breath before she nods. She smiles shakily at him and wipes a tear from his face as she does so, pushing it away trying to commit the feel of his skin against hers to her memory.   

“Okay,” she says, nodding, an edge of desperation to it, “It’s a date.” 

-x-

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[mynameismckenziemae]

She’s a Fire-Chapter XI

Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw x OFC/Reader (no use of y/n)

More than desire

(previous chapter here, next chapter here)

Warnings: smut, p in v, dirty talk, orgasm delay, talk of punishment, etc.

“That must be your dad?” Bradley asks on the way down the escalator as he sees the ‘Rowan & Bradley’ sign being held up. As if he doesn’t stick out like a sore thumb with his red hair.

“Yep, that’s him, and oh, Laura’s here too!” You say before running into their arms.

“I missed you guys so much, I thought you had to work today?” You ask Laura as you pull back from their embrace.

“I took the day off, wanted to see you.” She smiles, wiping a tear.

“Dad, Laura, this is Bradley, my boyfriend.” You turn to Bradley, “Bradley, this is my dad, Brian, and my stepmom, Laura.”

“Nice to meet you,” he smiles as he shakes your dad’s hand. Laura pulls him in for a hug, which he returns naturally.

“How was the flight? Are you guys hungry?” Laura asks, wiping another tear. She cried when you filled her in on Bradley’s history on the phone, her heart breaking for him.

“Flight was good, Bradley said the pilot should’ve landed it better but I didn’t notice,” you laugh. “Yes, I’m starving, Bradley?”

“Yeah, I could eat,” he smiles.

They take you to a little diner on the way back to Springs. Your dad asks Bradley a lot of questions about his job and time in the Navy; he was a marine before you came along, choosing to get out when Mom had left. Even though it wasn’t your fault and he assured you that owning the bar was the best job he had, you always felt guilty for it.

Laura sneaks you a smile and squeezes your hand under the table as Bradley takes it in stride, your dad doesn’t realize how intense he can be sometimes, especially when he is discussing something he loves.

Conversation comes easily as they drive you the rest of the way home. Your dad helps Bradley with the suitcases and you fail to stifle your yawn, you’ve been up since 3 AM.

“Why don’t you guys get settled in your old room and take a nap? We’ve got to run to the store in a bit, and Lyss and Jen are bringing Carter over later for an early supper.”

“Oh good! I can’t wait to hold him again. He’s getting so big.” Your stepsister, Alyssa, and her wife, Jen had sweet Carter via surrogate a few months before you left. “A nap does sound good though,” you yawn.

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

You show Bradley to your old room. Thankfully your dad and Laura took down the embarrassing posters that littered your walls.

“Your dad doesn’t mind that I stay with you?” He asks as you plop down on the bed.

“No, not at all. He knows we’re adults. I think he’d appreciate it if we keep it down when we fuck though.”

“Jesus Rowan,” he says, his eyes widening.

You laugh and tug him down behind you, between you and the wall. He wraps his arm around you. “You’re gonna be the death of me.”

“Mmm, I know” you smile as you drift off.

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

The house is quiet when you wake up a few hours later. Which is good because you’re throbbing between your legs.

Bradley is kissing the back of your neck and you moan quietly as his fingers work you over in the front of your leggings.

“Woke up with your pretty ass pushed up against me. Even in your sleep, you like to torture me.” He murmurs in your ear.

“Please baby, I need you.” You whine, grinding your ass against him.

He pulls your leggings down to your thighs and pulls himself out of his pants, pushing into from behind. “That’s so fucking good,” you sigh, turning your head for a kiss.

He fucks you slowly, drawing a sweet orgasm from you before increasing his pace.

“Ask permission before you cum” you pant, your second orgasm approaching rapidly.

“Fuck, Row. Can I cum? Please?” He grits out, getting close too.

You shake your head and he whines. “No. Not yet. I want 2 more orgasms before you do.”

He nods against the back of your neck, circling your clit faster, pushing you over the edge again. His hips stutter and he chokes out a groan as you flutter around him. “Fuckkkkk, I don’t know if I can, baby. I’m close.”

“Not yet, one more first. You don’t want me to punish you under my dad’s roof, do you?.”

He whimpers, shaking his head but his cock jumps inside you. Oh, he so does.

“Come on Bradley, one more and you can fill me up. It’ll be dripping out of me while we eat, coating my thighs, staining my underwear…”

He slaps a hand over your mouth and fucks into you harder. “You gotta stop talking, I’m too close and your dirty mouth isn’t helping.” He pants.

You let out a guttural moan and clench tightly at the action. He’s so close that your clenching is enough to set him off.

“No no no, not yet,” he groans into your neck, pumping you full of his cum. He circles your bundle of nerves, a little harder and you fall over the edge again too.

You hear the front door open, your dad and Laura are back home.

He pants into the back of your neck. “Does that count? I got you there two more times.” He asks, hopefully, and yet not…he’s curious to see what this punishment entails.

You breathe out a laugh. “I said two more times before you could come. You came before the second one. So no, that doesn’t count.”

He whimpers, but his softening cock gives a twitch. You spot your old wooden hairbrush on your dresser and you know exactly how you’re going to punish him.

He pulls out of you, careful to not stain the sheets and tucks himself back in, and pulls your pants up over your ass after he gives it a pinch.

You turn over and press a kiss to his lips, bringing a hand up to cup his face. “See that hairbrush on my dresser?”

He glances over to it before his eyes meet yours again and nods, not catching on yet.

“It’s going to become well acquainted with your ass the next time the house is just ours, so no one can hear you cry. I think that should get you to listen better. Do you understand me?”

His eyes drift close and a shiver runs through him at your words before he nods. His cock is hard again at your thigh.

“I need to hear you say it. Use your words, Bradley.”

He opens his eyes, glassy with arousal. “Yes.”

“Yes, what?” You prompt.

“Yes, ma’am” he whispers.

You smile and pat his flushed cheek. “Good boy”.

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

You clean up in the attached bathroom and head to the kitchen, giving Bradley a few minutes alone to calm down, he doesn’t want to greet everyone with a boner.

Alyssa and Jen come in a few minutes later, Carter wide awake in the carrier. Lyss wraps you a big hug and Jen hands you Carter next, knowing you won’t ask but are dying to hold him.

You feel a presence at your back, “Hey buddy, you got a strong grip for a little guy.” Bradley says when Carter reaches for his finger.

Introductions are done next and you and Bradley are ushered to the living room while your dad and Laura finish up the meal. Jen and Lyss offer to run to the store together for some drinks that were forgotten while they were out, happy to have a few minutes of quiet time.

Bradley can’t keep his eyes off you while you play with Carter, and holds his hands out to take him when he spits up on you.

“I’m gonna run through the shower quick if you don’t mind?” You ask as you hand him over. You would’ve just changed, but it got in your hair too.

“Yeah, we’ll be alright, won’t we big man?” He says, and Carter gives him a gummy smile.

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

15 minutes later you pad back into the living room, and your ovaries nearly explode at the sight before you. Bradley’s got Carter tucked into his chest, and is rubbing a finger over his pudgy cheek.

“I hope it’s okay that he fell asleep now. Do you think it’ll mess up his schedule for tonight?” He asks, concerned. So sweet and thoughtful, like always.

“Nah, I think it’s fine.” You say and snap a picture on your phone. “You’re a natural.”

“Yeah? You think so? It’s been a while, I don’t remember the last baby I held.”

“Yeah, Jen and Lyss always talk about how hard it is for them to get him down. I was gone 15 minutes and he’s out.”

He smiles, looking down at him. “He just leaned right up against me, I rubbed his back and he was out like a light.”

Laura cries (again) when she sees Bradley holding him and takes him to lie down in the bedroom so you can all eat. You show Jen and Alyssa the picture you snap and they both coo. Your dad rolls his eyes, muttering “women” to Bradley but gives him a wink.

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

Carter sleeps through supper and you’re convinced Alyssa is serious when she asks if Bradley can come over to put him down tonight. “I’m not sure about tonight, but why don’t we watch him for a night before we leave so you guys can have some together?”

They readily agree and say their goodbyes, promising to see you again on Christmas.

Your dad insists on pulling out the VCR to watch some old home videos. Bradley laughs til he cries at how much of a spitfire you were.

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

Laura and Brian head off to bed and Bradley reaches under the tree to hand you a gift.

“I know it’s not Christmas, but this one is time-sensitive.” He answers when you give him a questioning look.

You open it and find 2 tickets to the Colorado Avalanche game scheduled tomorrow night on top of a hoodie in your size.

“Oh my God! Bradley! Seriously?!” You squeal.

“Yeah, I couldn’t find your dad, but I did find Laura on Facebook and messaged her to make sure there’s nothing planned for tomorrow night. I had the sweatshirt and tickets sent here so you wouldn’t see it in my suitcase.”

You put the box on the coffee table and proceed to show him how grateful you are.

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

You’re up early the next day, letting Bradley sleep while you get ready, taking your time with your hair and makeup and donning your new sweatshirt, jeans, boots, and thick vest.

You make the drive to Denver with your dad’s truck he offered you two for the day and show Bradley some of your favorite things from your old city.

You skate circles around him in the outdoor downtown rink and he dips you for a kiss in front of the Mile High Tree. You break away laughing when he pulls you up and you feel a tap on your shoulder.

“Sorry if this is weird, but I snapped a few pictures of you two in front of the tree if you want me to airdrop them to you?” A sweet older woman tells you.

“Sure, thank you!” You say as you receive them.

“You’re welcome. I remember what it’s like to be young and in love. You two were so cute standing there together, and when he dipped you for a kiss, I just couldn’t not take some” She smiles, squeezing your arm.

“Thank you again, and Merry Christmas!”

You show Bradley the pictures and melt, they are cute.

Your heart skips a beat when his eyes meet yours. “Bradley, I-I love you.”

His face lights up. “I love you too. I have for a while. You’re all I can think about. I love that sweet smile you give me in the mornings before you even open your eyes. I love the way you take care of me. I love the way you ask me questions about my parents and want me to talk about them. I love the way your nose scrunches when you laugh. I just…love everything about you.” He breathes out before bringing his lips to yours.

Tears are streaming but you kiss him back until you’re both breathless. He puts his forehead to yours to catch it. “I’ve never felt this way about anyone before, Rowan.”

You smile. “Me either.”

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

The game is incredible, but Bradley’s reactions are even better.

“That was awesome! They don’t show you the fights on TV, not like that at least.” He says, opening the truck door for you.

You laugh and agree. He holds your hand the entire drive home.

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

There’s a note on your bedroom door from Laura when you get back

‘We’re going to see my dad in Boulder tomorrow morning. We should be back around 4. Love you!’

You smile, wishing you could go with but Laura’s dad suffers from dementia and doesn’t remember her most days even, it’s stressful with a lot of people there too.

You look over your shoulder at Bradley. “Looks like we’ll have the house to ourselves tomorrow.”

He stiffens behind you, in more ways than one.

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

A/N: I think it’s obvious I have a spanking kink lol. Sorrynotsorry.

Taglist/tagging those who may be interested:

@its-the-pilot

@dizzybee03

@sweetwhispersofchaos

@shanimallina87

@blindedbythelightt

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#bradley rooster bradshaw #top gun maverick #jake hangman seresin #robert bob floyd #bradley bradshaw #top gun smut #bradley bradshaw x you #bradley bradshaw x reader

[winchesterwild78]

Unexpected Hunter Pt 2

Chapter Warnings: fluff, SMUT, insecurity, sadness, unprotected sex (wrap it up guys), oral sex

18+ Minors DNI

*********************************************

Dean pulled the car into the garage at the bunker. You and Lexi were still asleep in the back. Dean turned the car off and nudged Sam looking back at you. Sam smiled and got out. Dean leaned over the backseat and lightly shook you. “Y/n wake up sweetheart. We’re home.” Your eyes fluttered open and you stretched. You got out of the car and looked around seeing all the old cars and motorcycles. “Wow” was all you could say. Dean grabbed your hand and said “Come on. Let me show you the rest of the place.”

He walked you through the bunker and you tried to keep up with where everything was. It was a bit overwhelming because the place was so big. Dean saw you getting overwhelmed so he stopped and said “let me just show you the important things right now.” You nodded and followed him. He showed you the kitchen, showers/bathroom, his and Sam’s rooms, the library and the war room.

He walked you to your bedroom door and opened it. “This is your room. It’s right across from mine if you ever need anything. I showed you where the bathroom is, but your room has its own. Feel free to decorate your room however you want.” He carried your bags in and placed them on the floor. The room was pretty empty but at least you were safe. “Thank you, Dean” you said as you looked around. “This is great. I appreciate you and Sam letting me stay here.” “Yeah, of course. I’ll let you get settled in and meet you in the kitchen when you’re ready” he said as he walked towards the door. You wanted to kiss him again but you weren’t sure if he wanted it so you let him leave.

You laid back on the bed. You weren’t tired but you were overwhelmed. Between learning monsters were real, to almost dying to walking away from your life you were just spiraling. You felt out of control and you needed something, anything to grab onto to help steady yourself. You grabbed your bag and started to unpack your clothes and toiletries. You grabbed a pair of sweatpants and an old AC/DC shirt and some clean underwear. You decided to take a hot shower to help relax. The water pressure surprised you and the temperature was perfect. You stood under the water letting the water mix with your tears. You finally finished and made your way out of your room. You walked past Dean’s room and peeked in. You could tell he took pride in decorating his room. You noticed a picture on his nightstand and walked in to look at it. It was of a beautiful woman with dark hair. Dean was in the picture with her. Looking at how intimate they seemed you knew she wasn’t family. Your heart sunk and you left the room.

You followed voices and found the kitchen. Dean and Sam were sitting at the table when you walked in. “Hey sweetheart. How was your shower?” Dean asked. “It was nice, thank you “ you said sitting down next to Sam. Dean looked up at you a little confused but didn’t say anything. Silence filled the room and it was a little awkward. Sam broke the silence by asking you if you were hungry. “Yes a little bit, but don’t worry about me. I’ll find something” you said. Dean’s head shot up and looked at you confused. Why did it seem like she was putting up a wall. He thought to himself. Dean stood up and said “well I’m going to cook some burgers. You’re welcome to eat some if you’re hungry.” “Thank you” you said.

Sam stood up and said he was going to the library to read. Dean called him a nerd and started cooking. You sat at the table for a few minutes in silence. You felt stupid about your feelings for him. Of course he had a girlfriend and he was just offering comfort in a bad situation. You were fidgeting and looking down and didn’t notice Dean was watching you. “Hey, y/n are you okay?” He asked breaking you out of your thoughts. You looked up and shook your head yes. “Come on sweetheart, talk to me” he said walking towards you. “Dean, I’m fine. Just overwhelmed with all the change so quickly.” You said harsher than you intended. What you wanted to say was “No I’m not okay. I thought we were starting to become something but I’m a fool and you have a gorgeous girlfriend who you’re clearly in love with.” Dean sighed and walked back to the stove. “Well if you won’t talk to me at least talk to Sammy. I don’t want you to feel alone.” “Alone” you thought. Of course you’re alone. “If I feel the need to talk I promise I’ll talk.” You said getting up. “I’m going to explore the library. If you need help with cooking let me know.” You said as you walked to the door.

You walked in the library to find Sam nose deep in a book. He was such a nerd it made you giggle. He looked up and said “what’s so funny y/n.” “Oh nothing just watching a fellow nerd nose deep in a book.” You said laughing. Sam chuckled “it’s good to hear you laugh, y/n.” “Yeah I feel like it’s been awhile myself.” You said taking a seat across from him. You grabbed a book and started reading about fairies. You looked at Sam and said “fairies are real too?” “Yep, dragons too” he said without looking up. Your eyes got wide. “Wow” was all you could say.

You both sat there reading a few more minutes before you mustered the courage to ask about her. The beauty in the picture with Dean. You swallowed hard and said “um Sam, how do relationships work with this whole life you live?” He looked up and put his book down. “Well they are hard and most hunters don’t have a significant others or even children. It’s too risky and so easy to lose them. Especially if a monster catches wind that you have someone. Our mom was killed by a Demon when I was a baby and our dad was killed by the same one a few years ago.” Your heart sank. Of course this life is too dangerous to love anyone. “I’m so sorry Sam. That sounds awful. At least you and Dean have each other. So what about Dean’s girlfriend? Is she in the life” you couldn’t believe you asked that. Sam sat there for a second a little confused “oh you mean Lisa, no she’s not in the life. Dean got out and spent a year with her and her son. They broke up but he’s still in love with her. I’m sure he’d go back to her if he felt it was safe.” He said without even thinking. Tears pricked your eyes and your heart broke. A lump formed in your throat and all you were able to get out was a soft “oh”. You stood up trying to fight the tears and told him you were going to lay down. Then left the room.

As you walked past the kitchen you saw Dean cooking and your heart clenched. How did you develop feelings for him so quickly? Of course he’s in love with her. She’s beautiful and he lived with her.

You got back to your room as the tears started falling. You closed your door and laid on the bed. Why were you so hurt and upset? It’s not like you and Dean were in a relationship. He kissed you but that was it. He hasn’t tried to kiss you since so maybe it was just a kiss in the heat of the moment. But oh what a kiss. You felt a spark, something there in that kiss. You laid on your bed trying to stop the tears. Then there was a soft knock on the door. “Hey sweetheart, dinner is ready” you heard Dean say. Your heart cringed when you heard him call you “sweetheart”. You laid there trying to steady your breathing and stop the tears. You couldn’t answer him. He knocked again and said “can I come in y/n”. You sat up dried your eyes and said “yes”. He opened the door and noticed right away you had been crying. He crossed the room quickly and kneeled in front of you grabbing your hands. “Hey, what’s wrong? Why are you crying?” He asked with concern filling his eyes. “Nothing, I’m fine. I’ll be out in a minute” you said pulling your hands away. Dean stood up and looked shocked. You got off the bed and started to walk towards your bathroom. He got in between you and the doorway. “No, something is obviously wrong. Did I do something wrong?” He asked. You just shook your head no. “Then talk to me, please. You mean a lot to me y/n. I can’t stand to see you cry.” He said cupping your face. You leaned into his hand and closed your eyes.

You started to speak but what came out was barely a whisper. “I’m sorry Dean. I thought we were more than what we are. When I realized you were in love with someone else it upset me. I’ll get over it. I’m sorry.” Dean stood there for a minute confused and sad. “What are you talking about sweetheart? I want more with you too and I’m not in love with anyone. Where did you get that idea?” He asked. “I saw the picture on your nightstand of you and Lisa. Sam told me all about her and how you’d probably be with her if you could safely because you were in love with her.” A tear slipped down your face and he wiped it away. “Yes, I did love her and probably always will, but I’m not in love with her anymore and I don’t want to be with her. I want to be with you. I’ve felt something since the moment I met you.”

Without another word he crashed his lips to yours. At first it was sweet but then quickly turned passionate. His hands gripping your hair and pulling you into the kiss. Your tongues fighting for dominance in each other’s mouth. You moaned into his mouth. He pulled away and you saw his soft green eyes turn dark with lust. He led you back to the bed and laid you down. He hovered over you kissing you and playing with the hem of your shirt. You nodded yes and his hand slipped up cupping your breast. Your breath hitched and your head went back when his mouth attached to your hard nipple. “Dean please” was all you could get out. “Please what sweetheart?” He asked with a grin. “I want you to take me, make me cum.” You said breathlessly. Dean pulled your pants and panties off with one tug and exposed your body to him. He bit his bottom lip and sucked in a breath. “Damn you’re beautiful” he said. His lips crashed to yours as his hand traveled between your thighs. You could feel your body responding to his touch “sweetheart, you’re soaking wet” he said as his hands slid between your folds. Your breath hitched and your hips bucked into his hand.

He started to rub circles on your clit with his thumb and he inserted his thick finger. You gasped at his touch and bit your lip. He smiled as he watched you coming undone. He inserted another finger and started to hook them up. You loved your hips in motion with his hand and you felt yourself getting close to the edge. “I’m gonna cum Dean” you said as you continued to ride his fingers. His movements got faster and your breathing became erratic. “Cum for me sweetheart, all over my hand” he said and that’s all it took. You came hard and soaked his hand. As he helped you ride your high your thighs started to close but he held them open. “Open up sweetheart” Dean said in his deep voice that sent chills through your body. He stood up and pulled his pants and boxers down, pulling his shirt over his head. You bit your lip as you looked over his amazing body. He smirked at you “see something you like, baby” he asked. Baby, god you loved the way that sounded. He slotted himself between your legs and leaned over you. He kissed your lips and leaned back. “You ready sweetheart” he asked with a mischievous grin on his face. You nodded and pulled your bottom lip in and bit down. Dean slowly pushed his hard cock in you. Inch by inch. You had never had anyone as big as Dean. The pain mixed with pleasure was toe curling. God he felt amazing. You gasped as he pushed a little further in and he stopped. “You okay, sweetheart” he asked. “Yes, keep going” you answered. You wrapped your legs around Dean’s hips trying to push him in. You felt resistance from him and he smirked. With a swift movement of his hips he bottomed out deep inside you.your walls clenched around him. “Damn, sweetheart you can’t do that. You’re going to make me cum now” he said with a little growl. He pulled out and pushed back in. With each thrust you could feel that familiar coil tighten in your stomach. How can this man make you cum with just his cock. Damn he’s good. You were so close to cumming again and Dean knew it. “Dean I’m gonna cum” you said breathlessly. “Not yet baby, climb on top” he said as he helped you get on top of him. You positioned his large length to your dripping core and slid it in inch by inch. Dean lifted his hips helping you get deeper.

Your hands rested on his chest as you rode his cock. The sounds of flesh hitting flesh and load moans filled the room. You bounced up and down and Dean took your breasts in his hands cupping them and pinching your nipples. Your hand slid between Dean and your clit. You started rubbing your clit as you moved faster on Dean. His fingers dug into the flesh of your hips. You knew you’d have bruises tomorrow but you didn’t care. Moans, grunts and flesh hitting flesh were filling the room. “I’m gonna cum, Dean” you said bouncing up and down on him. “Me too sweetheart” he said gripping you tighter. “Cum for me Dean” you said as you came and your walls clenched around him. “Fuck” he said as he came coating your walls with his seed. You two were too caught up in the moment to realize you didn’t use a condom. You sat on Dean for a few minutes as you felt his dick soften. As you got up you noticed he was covered in yours and his cum. You giggled and told him you’d be right back.

You went to the bathroom cleaned yourself and when you came back you helped clean him. He threw the washcloth into the bathroom and you climbed in bed beside him. He took you in his arms and you laid your head on his chest. You felt safe and amazing. Sex with him was far better than you imagined. “You okay, sweetheart” Dean asked as his kissed the top of your head. “Yeah, I’m good. Just a little hungry now” you said with a giggle. “Let’s go eat” Dean said standing up pulling his clothes on. You got dressed and he grabbed your hand leading you to the kitchen.

Sam was already eat when you two walked in. He looked at you and his brother and just shook his head chuckling. You sat down and Dean served both of you some food. You took a bite of the food and complimented Dean on his culinary skills. Sam told you not to inflate his ego anymore than it already was. You all laughed. It felt good to laugh. Especially with them. Your life had been turned upside down but being here with the Winchesters felt like home. They felt like home. Dean felt like home, and you were glad to be home.

Part 3

#dean winchester #dean winchester smut #supernatural #family

[outsideratheart]

On a Night Like Tonight (Alex Scott x reader)

Retirement. A word that had been playing on your mind for a the past 12 months. After Australia, Team GB went on to win gold in the Olympics and it left only one trophy missing from your cabinet. The World Cup.

2027, Brazil. It was the day that you gave the fans the thing you promised 4 years ago. You lead your team to their first World Cup star and did so by beating the United States on penalties.

Unlike last year Alex was pitch side with Fara eagerly waiting for you to come over and when you did she welcomed you like the champion you now were or at least she gave you the PG version given you were live on TV.

You were overcome with emotion as Alex held you in her arms. To the outside world the tears you were clearly shedding were that of happiness but between you and Alex you knew they were sad tears too.

The celebration awaiting you back in England was unlike anything you could have imagined. It put the euros one to shame. The whole country showed up to celebrate you and you made sure to savour every moment.

Each player had their turn on the microphone and the fans loved it but when it was your turn to speak the fans took one look at your face and went silent. You could hear a pin drop in Trafalgar Square.

“You all know I hate being a bench warmer and I don’t want to be one of those players the play long after their time is up. It has been my greatest honour being your captain for over ten years but it is time that I pass on the torch and hang the boots up”

It was announced the following day that England’s match against Germany at Wembley in one month’s time would be you final game in an England shirt. The match sold out in minutes and it set the perfect scene for your send off.

The days leading up to it was hectic, you barely had a second to yourself and most of all it was extremely overwhelming. You questioned if you had made the right decision. You were still playing world class football, why stop now? Your question was answered one night at St George’s Park. It was the night before your final game and the entire team could tell you were having an hard time. It’s the reason Sarina allowed Alex to stay in your room even though it was against the rules.

“I don’t think I can do it”

Alex looked up from where she was laying on your chest.

“Can’t or don’t want to?”

“Football is all I’ve ever known Al, I’m not sure I can give it up”

“You’re not retiring completely. In a week’s time you will be back at Cobham with Chelsea”

“I’m going to be home a lot more”

“You make it sound like a bad thing. Remember the reason that made you consider retiring in the first place?”

It was a night you remember well. You and Alex spent over an hour talking about the future and what it could look like. You got so caught up in the hypotheticals that reality became disappointing. It made you want to skip the next few years so that you could start the next chapter of your life, the one where being captain was no longer the highest responsibility you had.

You feel asleep that night dreaming of the future and when you woke up you were ready to say goodbye to the team that you loved so much.

It was a bitter sweet feeling as the final whistle was blown. The entire England team, both the players on the bench and on the pitch, came running to you. It that moment you felt loved and appreciated. It was a moment that you would remember for the rest of your life. As you take a lap around the field you try to take in as much as you can.

“You know you don’t have to retire” Leah appears by your side.

“It’s my time. I have loved playing for this team and every time I wear this badge it is a great honour but this is my final curtain call Leah, my swan song” You pull the blonde into your side and kiss the side of her head.

“Don’t be getting soft. Save that for Alex because we need to go do media” Truth is Leah didn’t want you to leave, she had told you this much but your mind was yet.

“I know but before that there’s something I need to do”

You pull Leah towards the middle of the pitch, away from the shouting fans, the centre circle becoming your own little bubble.

“I have been captain of this team for almost ten years. I have lead them to the highest highs and the lowest lows. It takes a lot from you when you wear this band but it can also reward in the best possible way. I have spoken with Sarina about who I want to be my successor and that person is you Leah”

With a heavy heart you take the armband off and pull it up Leah’s arm. You were passing the torch, this was a changing of the guard and you were doing it for the whole to see.

By the time you reach Alex and the BBC team you are on the very line fine between keeping it together and breaking completely.

The world now knew about the two of you but with a camera pointed straight at you, you felt the need to stay professional but Alex soon changed that.

“We’re not rolling. It’s playing her career highlights” one of the camera men tells Alex.

“Come here” The BBC presenter pulls you into her arms and for a brief moment you allow yourself to feel, feel everything that you have been bottling up since you woke up.

“It’s over. I’ve played my last game as a lioness” you could feel tears falling down your face and you were aware that there were multiple people watching the interaction but no longer had to strength to bottle up your emotions.

The same man who told you that the cameras were rolling informed you that they would be live in 5, then proceeded to count down using his fingers.

As a way of regaining control of your emotions and in attempt of staying together you move away from Alex and closer to Jill and Fara. As if knowing that you still weren’t ready to answer the unavoidable questions Leah takes charge of the interview and the presenters follow her lead. It is when she is asked a question only you can answer do you need to get involved.

“Jill asked what’s next for you?” Leah nudges you.

“I go back to Chelsea. As for the next international break, well I have no idea. Maybe go on holiday, what do you say Al, fancy the Maldives?”

“Sure, why not. Fara can cover for me”

“Seriously though Y/N. What’s next? When asked about retiring you said that you have given over 15 years to your country and that it’s time to prioritise your personal life. I think I remember you saying it’s what our dear Alex over here deserves”

Leah switches places with you when Alex is mentioned. Sensing that being next to your person may bring you more peace and encourage you to answer the question without making jokes.

“If the song is right then I believe I hear wedding bells” Jills says.

You wonder what song she is referring to and upon turning to Alex you see that she is also at loss.

“You know the song. The one about kissing in a tree. I won’t sing it seen as though we are live on air and I am a professional”

With Jill’s clue you know exactly the song she is talking about although you think you may have been in high school when you last heard it.

“Since when are you a professional?” You scoff. You refused to bite.

��I get what you’re saying. I believe it says first comes love”

“Check” Alex plays along.

Before Leah continues you turn to Alex. Your hand sat on the small of her back and unknowingly to the women around, you tap you ring finger which was missing a very important piece of jewellery. Alex leans into you with her head on your shoulder and tells you to go for it.

“Then comes marriage-“

“Check” you were proud to finally announce that you had in fact married Alex but up until this moment it was only your immediate families that knew.

The faces of your friends were priceless. In that moment you wish you had a camera to take a photo but then you remember you are on live TV. Oh god, you were live on the BBC. Not only had you told your friends about your nuptials, you had told the entire world.

“Shit”

“Y/N” Alex playfully slaps your arm “We are live”

“I am now aware of this Al”

“I would like to apologise for the language made by Y/N Y/L/N”

“Don’t you mean Y/N Scott?” Jill asks.

“No she does not” you say rather defensively “Alex took my name, she is Alex Y/L/N”

“How about we discuss the details of our marriage when we are not live on TV.” Alex tries to get the interview back on track which you are happy to do.

You then proceed to talk all things football. Jill recalls your first training session as a lioness, Fara tells her favourite Y/N Y/L/N stories, Leah brings you to tears once again when she tells you about how you showed her what is possible and Alex grins ear to ear when she explains all the ways that you have changed the game and how a lot of people have you to thank for how far the game has come.

Almost an hour later you are in one of the hospitality suites at Wembley. The news of you and Alex had spread to rest of the team and the party that was originally planned for your retirement has now turned into a retirement / wedding party.

It doesn’t take much for you to get overwhelmed, how could you not. You escape to one of the boxes near the suite, the cold air grounds you and the silence is welcoming. Looking out at the pitch you are filled with nostalgia as memories flood your mind, it’s as if a highlight reel is playing.

“People are asking where you are?”

You feel your body relax upon hearing your wife’s voice. It is one of the things you love most about her.

“You found me. Any chance I can persuade you to stay here with me for a moment?”

“I can think of a few things”

“Can one of them be a hug? I could really use one”

Alex’s eyebrows furrow. You were a cuddler, Alex learned this very early on in your relationship but there is something about you asking now and the way you did it. You sound so vulnerable.

Your wife doesn’t say anything, instead she opens her arms and you melt into her hold.

“You know a lot of people are in there waiting to celebrate you, with you. Yet you are out here alone or at least you were until I found you”

“I want to celebrate with you though and everyone keeps stopping me from doing that. They want Y/N the England captain or I guess now it’s former captain but I just want to be —“

“Y/N, my wife”

Her wife. It sounds cliche like something that would be said in a movie or a line in a book but you loved hearing her say that and even now as you both wear your rings, you couldn’t believe that she had agreed to marry you.

“Can we go home?”

Alex knew that you liked to party and it didn’t take much to persuade to celebrate something no matter how small. It wasn’t like you to leave early and Alex knew that you might be feeling more than you are letting on if you want to leave a party that was honouring your international career.

“I didn’t tell you this but Ella and Alessia have wrote a speech. They read it to me and you’ll want to hear it. If after that you still want to go home then we will, I promise”

You stayed for the speech and boy are you glad you did. It was one of the most heartfelt yet hilarious speeches you have heard. You did end up going home but not till hours later. After hearing your plea, Alex stayed by your side the entire night and her presence allowed you to relax and have fun. A chapter of the book you called life was over and the chapters that followed would go on to be some of your favourite because each and every one of them included you wife Alex Scott.

#Alex Scott x reader #Alex Scott imagine #Alex Scott one shot #woso x reader #woso imagine #woso one shot #engwnt x reader #engwnt one shot #engwnt imagine #awfc x reader #awfc one shot #awfc imagine

[cloudlessly-light]

Hi. Can you write something about Emily being obsessed with Aarons arms pls …

Title:  Seems you cannot be replaced (Chapter 5/7)   Summary: It shouldn’t have happened, but they were drunk. It shouldn’t have happened but it felt right. It shouldn’t have happened but now it has. It shouldn’t have happened now they have to deal with it.   

Or, Emily always leaves before he wakes up, but she always leaves a note. Word Count:  3,3k Rating:  Explicit Warnings: Smut, oral, dirty talk, feels

“I’m sorry.” She whispers it in the quiet elevator the next morning as they’re getting ready to leave.

He’s standing in front of her, back turned. They’re alone and Emily wants to disappear. She hadn’t counted on them being alone so quickly, hadn’t expected not to give them both some more time to digest that she left him. Again.

Guilt was seeping through her body, like every nerve was set ablaze by regret and had been ever since she wrote her message only a few hours before.

“Aaron?” She tries softly and reaches for him, but the second her hand lands on his upper arm he takes a step forward.

“I don’t need an apology.” He says just moments before the doors open and reveals the team standing in the lobby, already waiting for them bags in hand. “I need you to give me some time. You know what I want, how I feel, if you can’t give me that then you need to give me some time.”

She knows he’s right, she knows that she’s the one that’s hurting him. So she sucks in a long breath as he walks away. It doesn’t matter that she knows that she’s made a mistake, not when she could hear the heartbreak in his voice, could see the hurt in his eyes.

It was her choice, and now she’d has to live with the consequences.

*

“Hey, Prentiss. You good?” Derek’s familiar voice comes from behind her. It’s been a few days since Texas, since that night and Emily knows that the team’s picked up on something. She’s been tired, easily irritated in a way that she normally wasn’t.

“Yeah. Just a bad week.” She turns in her chair and forces a smile that she hopes looks genuine. “Not enough sleep, you know how it goes.”

“Is it-” He stops himself, eyes flittering quicky to the bruise that’s still on her wrist, finger shaped blues, greens and yellows coloring her skin. “Is it because of the case? Because of-”

“No this has nothing to do with the case.” She cuts him off and she can tell that Derek knows he’s overstepped. “I’m fine Morgan, really.” She stands up and squeezes his shoulder. “But thank you for caring.” Her voice was genuine now, because as much as she didn’t want her friends to meddle in her life, she appreciated that they cared.

“Anytime, Princess.”

*

It’s not even a week later and they’re flying to New York. Things are still strained between them, clipped words and sharp sentences that she doesn’t mind because she knows that Aaron, just like her, aren’t granted the privilege to put physical space between each other. He’s hurting and trying to cope the best he can. So she gives him that.

The second she hears about Kate Joyner she feels annoyed, the subtle dig Dave makes, the knowing looks between JJ and Spencer, it all bugs her. Jealousy she knows she has no right to feel rooting in her stomach and stays there. It doesn’t help that the woman is stunning, a copy of his ex-wife and Emily forces a joke to JJ but all she wants is to drag Aaron out of the office the blonde had just dragged him into.

The jealousy doesn’t go away, even if she manages to subdue it in between fired shots and detective Sam Cooper who she’s seen right through. But that didn’t mean that she didn’t enjoy the banter, the easiness of it. It also didn’t hurt that he was easy on the eyes.

And then the unsub stops mid-chase and shoots him, so she fires back and for a split second everything stops.

Her mind is still reeling as Cooper is being driven off in an ambulance, his blood still on her hands. Aaron is there, he shows up with Joyner but his eyes are on her and she can tell that he’s looking to see if she’s hurt, a slight franticness to him as he does. But she’s okay, gives him a nod and then he continues to talk to Dave and Spencer.

When they regroup it all makes sense. They aren’t dealing with a group of unsubs, they’re dealing with terrorists.

There’s been an explosion, and everything is chaos. There’s been an explosion and she’s been driving like a maniac to find her team. There’s been an explosion and Aaron isn’t there. Aaron isn’t there.

She can’t think about anything else, can’t think about anything other than that he is gone and she knows in her gut that something is wrong. Then Penelope tells them what’s happened and she breathes a sigh of relief because he’s okay, even as her body is filled with disgust because Kate is hurt, badly. She knows she shouldn’t feel relief, but she does because Aaron wasn’t in the car, he isn’t dead.

She’s the first one to say that she’s going to the hospital, she needed to see him, needed to make sure he was still alive.

“I’m fine.”

She hears his voice just as a doctor pushes back a curtain and she follows him quickly.

“Where are my clothes, please?”

“Lay down.”

The sound of her voice seems to surprise him just enough to make him stop.

“I said, lay down and let them do their job.” She says again, staring him down as her arms cross over her chest. To her own surprise he listens.

“Can you give us a minute?” She turns to the doctor who nods, seemingly more than happy that someone else would take over. Once they’re alone she stands planted at the foot of the gurney, glaring at him and he glares right back.

“Has anything happened since the blast?” He asks and she feels rage curse through her.

“You could have died.” She ignores the way her voice shakes but knows that he hears it.

“Emily-”’

“No, Aaron no.” She cuts him off and he sits up, his feet already on the floor before she manages to push him in the chest to keep him from getting up. It doesn’t hurt him, barely makes him budge but he stays sitting on the edge of the bed. “You could have died tonight and we are still in this mess.” A single tear falls down her cheek and he carefully wipes it away.

“But I didn’t.” He says softly and she fights a sob that wants to erupt. “I didn’t die.”

“What if I- fuck Aaron I didn’t know- all I could think about.” She starts her sentence over and over. This isn’t the time or the place, she knows that. But she also knows that not telling him how she felt was impossible, not after having thought that she’d lost him.

He seems to realize too, his eyes gentle and warm as he waits for her to tell him what they both knew, what they had been fighting for weeks now.

“I didn’t.” He whispers and closes her eyes tight, like she’s trying to rid herself of the memories. “I’m right here, I didn’t die.”

“You could have.” She repeats and his warm, large hands move to gently hold her hips, the simple touch nudging her the last bit to say what she needed. “I-I can’t lose you. I’m falling in love with you.”

For a few seconds he stays completely silent, eyes on her, face almost an unreadable and she thinks that she’s too late. But then he smiles.

“So what I needed to do was to almost get blown up for you to admit your feelings?” His words make her chuckle, even as a few more tears fall from her eyes.

“You’re such an ass.”

When they kiss it’s soft, a promise of more and for those few seconds, nothing existed but them.

But of course they’re in the middle of a terrorist attack, Kate has died, and they don’t have time for much more. The team shows up, and as they’re putting the last few pieces together Derek, as brave as he is, drives off with a bomb in a way that Emily would later call stupid.

“I saved all of us.” He defends as they all get ready to leave for the airport the next day. Except Emily and Aaron, they’re driving back.

“Yeah, you’re still and idiot.” She teases just as Aaron walks out and gives her a nod.

“Hey, you’re sure you want to drive back to Washington? I could do it.” Derek offers and she smiles because he has no idea just how much she wants to be alone with Aaron right now.

“I’m good Morgan. I’ll see you at the office.”

When she gets in the driver’s seat, Aaron is already seated in the passenger seat.

“Ready to get going?” She asks and he nods with a smile.

“Did you tell him?” He gestures to Derek who’s about to get into the car and drive away.

“No, let’s keep this between us. For a while.” She feels his warm hand on her thigh and she places her own over his and gives his hand a squeeze.

*

Three weeks later

They’ve been together only for a few weeks when Emily wakes up with Aaron’s strong arm around her middle. They had spent almost every night together, getting to know each other as more than friends and colleagues and she came to find that it was easy to differentiate Aaron from Hotch. She wakes up before him, something that was rare but she loved when she got to enjoy him as he relaxed against her.

She let her eyes drift over his strong arm, the comfort of the slight heaviness something she’s gotten used to. She looked over his arm, from where his fingers twitched slightly as he slept, to the dark hair starting low on his wrist that she can’t help but to gently trace with her finger. His muscle jumped and she knew he was waking up so she turned from where she was lying on her side.

“Morning sweetheart.” He mumbled, voice rough from sleep and she couldn’t believe that he was this effortlessly sexy. Still couldn’t believe that she had fought this for as long as she had.

“Good morning.” She smiled as he pressed a lazy smile against the crook of her neck where he had buried his face. “It’s still early, you can keep sleeping.”

“Or, I could do this instead.” He already sounds more awake, lips trailing from her neck to her jaw and then he’s kissing her as he shifts and she feels all of him pressing against her. He’s hard against her thigh and she whimpers slightly against his lips.

“I never thought I’d meet someone with a higher sex drive than me.” She teases and he hums in between kisses that are getting more heated as his hands start to move down her body.

They fuck lazily, enjoying each other until he’s coming deep inside of her as she grinds on top off him.

Later she finds herself watching him again. He’s making her breakfast, wearing nothing but dark green boxers that hang low on his hips and she’s almost taken back by how delicious he looks. She once again finds herself looking at his arms, how the strong muscle is hidden under soft skin, watches the veins as he sits beside her, how the coffee cup looks tiny in his large hand.

“What?” He asks, catching her not so subtle gawking with a teasing smirk.

“Can’t I enjoy the view?” Her words make him blush, and it’s another thing she loved about him. He had no idea just how gorgeous he was.

“What do you want to do today?” He changes the subject and she shrugs as her hand lands on his forearm.

“I don’t know, we could stay at home? Relax for once?” She traces a finger through the fine hair covering his arm, eyes fastened on it.

“Or, you could meet Jack?”

That made her look at him so fast he almost laughs.

“Already?” They had talked about it, but she had figured that it would be months before Aaron was ready for that. “You don’t think it’s too soon?”

“No.” It’s his turn to shrug. “I mean unless you’re planning on ditching me anytime soon?” He winks at her as her mouth opens and closes repeatedly. “I’m only kidding.” He stamps a kiss to her lips. “If you’re not ready to meet him, then that’s okay, it is soon. I just want him to meet my girlfriend.”

“That’s the first time you’ve said that.” She smiles, big and toothy and he chuckles.

“That you’re my girlfriend?” When she nods he moves to gently hold her neck, pulling her forward. “Of course you’re my girlfriend, Emily.”

She smiles into a kiss and when they break apart there’s not a doubt in her mind. She wants the man in front of her, she wants him forever.

“Call Haley and ask if it’s okay.”

*

That same night she’s coming into the kitchen just as Aaron takes the chicken out of the oven, hair still wet from her shower, body wrapped in a bathrobe. She was tired, but it wasn’t tired in the way you were in you slept too little or were too stressed, no she was tired in the way you were when you had spent hours with a three-year-old. It was the kind of tired she didn’t mind, because Jack was worth it.

“So let me be the first to say, Jack adores you.” Aaron says as she stretches, her hands high above her head.

“I adore him too. He’s such a great kid.” She goes to hug him from behind and presses a kiss to his shoulder. “But am I a horrible person if I say that I’m happy that it’s just us tonight?”

“No, you’re not.” He’s smiling when he turns around to face her. “Did you have something in mind though?” When her eyebrow raised and she gives him a look, his hands grip her a little tighter. “What about dinner?”

“I’m not hungry, at least not for food.” She removes her bathrobe and reveals the lace underwear set she’s wearing.

“Emily.” Her name is a breathy gasp and when she falls to her knees in front of him, Aaron moves to lean against the counter.

She holds his gaze as she gets his jeans off then presses a kiss against his bulge over his underwear. When she feels him jerking against her lips she smirks.

“Take off your shirt.” She says and he immediately complies. “You’re so fucking sexy.” She looks over his body while pulling down his boxers. “And all mine.” When she takes him in her mouth his knees buckle for a second.

“Fuck baby.” He husks out, fingers easily finding their way to her still damp hair. She moans softly around him, the feeling of his fingers gently tugging and gripping making her shiver as she slowly works her way down his shaft.

He’s getting harder with every second, each swipe of her tongue and every suck making him delirious with want. Then she looks back up at him, eyes hazy in that familiar way, pupils blown wide.

“So good.” He whispers and her cheeks tint pink at the praise. “I swear you were made for me, every fucking hole.” His fingers tighten in her hair and she whimper around him. Her thighs clench as she starts to bop her head faster.

She takes him as deep as she can, ignores how she chokes and how her eyes turn glassy as she works his cock over. When his hips start to jerk against her face, she wraps a fist around him and starts to pump. She pulls off him only to suck in a couple of breaths and then she takes him back in her mouth. Her tongue swirls around the tip of him as her hand twists his base and Aaron groans above her.

“I want you to come in my mouth.” She pants and his jaw clenches as he swallows hard. “I want it all.” Spit hangs from her bottom lip and he wipes it with his thumb before sucking that same thumb between his lips.

“Make me come, then.” He smirks and she has him in her mouth only a few moments later. She pushes forward, keeps going until her nose presses against his pelvis and Aaron groans. Her throat contracts around him, her eyes are glassy as she looks up at him, and then she pulls back, only to do the same thing again and he thinks he’s going to lose his mind.

He tugs her hair again and then he fists it hard, making her gasp around the tip of him. She knows what he wants, so she sits back on her heels and opens her mouth wide. When he starts to thrust against her face, she can’t resist and moves a hand between her legs. She’s soaked, the fabric of her underwear damp and she moans quietly around his cock as he keeps pushing his hips against her.

“Don’t come.” He grits out, almost overwhelmed by the pleasure of her mouth and the visual of her on her knees touching herself. “You’re going to wait until I’m ready to fuck you.”

Emily nods, even as her fingers are circling her clit faster. She can tell that he’s getting close, hips stuttering, filthy words fall from his mouth and she’s pretty sure she’s dripping onto the floor by now. Her eyes move over him, from his face, to his chest, to his arms. She can see the muscle in his forearm tense as he grips her hair tighter. She knows how strong his arms are, how easily he pins her down or throws her around and she whines at the thought.

“Gonna come.” His hushed words bring her eyes back to his face. “You ready for it?”

She nods frantically, stops touching herself and instead focuses everything on pleasing him. He tenses just as he grunts and then the salty taste of him lands on her waiting tongue. His hips jerk as she sucks on his tip, her hand coming up to jerk the rest of him, drawing out the pleasure until he’s backing away, still panting.

“Jesus Christ Em.” He leans against the counter, hands gripping it to keep steady before he helps her up to stand. He pulls her into a kiss, pushes his tongue against hers and groans at the taste of him that still lingers. His hand moves into her underwear and when he feels the slick of her he can’t help to hum. “My my, such a messy girl.”

“Aaron.” She whimpers, her hands digging into the muscle of his upper arms. “Need you.”

“Then why would you make me come in that pretty mouth of yours?” He teases as he turns them around until he can bend her over the counter. “Don’t worry, I’m going to take care of you sweetheart.”

He makes her come three times before he’s even inside of her, by the time they land in a messy tangle of limbs Emily’s exhausted and sated. She falls asleep with her head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat.

The next morning Aaron wakes up to an empty bed and for a second he feels panicked, but then he hears Emily humming to herself in the bathroom and his eyes move to the note that’s on her pillow.Don’t think the notes stop just cause I’m your girlfriend now. Em

#hotchniss #hotchniss smut #hotchniss fanfiction #aaron hotchner x emily prentiss smut #aaron hotchner x emily prentiss #hotch x emily #criminal minds smut #criminal minds fanfiction #aaron x emily #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner smut #emily prentiss fanfiction #emily prentiss smut

[drunkewok]

Tiger Inside Chapter Twenty-Four

Stray Kids Mafia (ongoing)

Masterlist

Likes, reblogs and feedback always greatly appreciated

WC: 3.5k

Pairing: Lee Know x reader

Genre: Series, Enemies to lovers, non-idol AU, Mafia AU

Synopsis: After years spent away from the family, two strangers start frequenting your place of work, only to bring daunting news. Flung back into the world of the mafia, you try to adapt to your new normal and work alongside a team of eight skilled members to uncover a mystery and take down an unknown enemy.

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, drinking, swearing, violence, weapons

Disclaimer: Any portrayal of Stray Kids or any other idols in this story is purely fiction and do not at all reflect their own personalities or how I view them as a person, it is purely for the sake of the story.

Please do not copy or repost my work

Multiple drained green bottles littered the coffee table, hazy laughter echoing through the room at the crack of a drunken joke. Minho and Seongho’s words failed to pass through my ears as I found myself zoning out at the wall, the alcohol starting to give a fuzz to my surroundings as I held myself steady. I pulled myself from the cushions, letting my feet pull me to the kitchen in search of a glass of water.

“No, really though,” Seongho’s voice carried with slight laughter. “She- She may act like she’s tough but she’s actually a big ole softy who just wants to be held when she’s upset.” His words blurred together, his tongue slurring as they left his mouth. 

“Ya!” I smacked his arm as I plopped back down onto the couch, glass of water in hand. “No talking about me the moment I leave the room!”

“I’m just speaking the truth! Remember that stuffed bear I got you? And how distraught you were when you lost it?”

“Seongho, shut up.” In that moment I was praying for the ability to have my eyes drill into the side of his head, the little vocal filter he had even while sober clearly having been thrown out the window.

“Aw, that’s so sweet.” I could tell Minho’s words were laced with a tease, clearly feeding off of Seongho’s drunken ramblings. 

“Hey, you shut it too.” My head quickly shot to Minho, finger raised in a silent threat. How is he still this coherent? Besides the flush clearly showing on his cheeks, I would have never guessed he was even drinking with us.

“What? You embarrassed?” Seongho pushed a pouted lip as he looked my way, the mock in his tone dripping with every word. “Too embarrassed to admit you prefer hugging onto something while you sleep?”

“If you don’t shut your mouth right now I’ll do it for you, I swear to god.” I threw a pillow in his direction, Seongho’s delayed response time causing it to hit him directly in the face. 

My ears burned, cheeks changing hues as all the blood in my body rushed to my face. I much rather preferred earlier when it didn’t feel like the two of them were teaming up against me in their teases.

“Okayyyyy, fine.” Seongho settled the pillow at his side, both of our eyes promptly pulled towards the light up of his phone placed face up on the table, a new message notification flashing across the screen. He quickly grabbed it and held it close as he opened the message, a subtle blush growing across his cheeks.

“Spill it. Who is it?” Seongho bit the inside of his cheek as he suppressed a smile, slipping the phone into his pocket after typing out a response.

“I haven’t told you about him yet.” I quickly pulled my feet up under me, slightly leaning forward with curiosity and gripping a pillow into my lap.

“Okay? well you better tell me about him now!” 

“Him? Oh are you…? I thought you two might’ve-” Minho’s eyes studied between the two of us in confusion, brows creasing as he blinked it away.

Seongho and I went silent for a moment as we both turned towards Minho as his sentence trailed off, before turning back to each other with laughter.

“Oh no, we tried that one time, let’s just say it didn’t really work out how we would’ve thought.” I waved him off as I tried to control my laughter, flashes of a memory of a drunken night in bed together flipping through my mind.

“I was mistaken, okay?" Seongho lightly shoved me to the side, cheeks blushing in embarrassment.

“It’s okay, now you just know what team you play for.” I gave a nonchalant shrug, bringing my glass up to my lips before quickly realizing the derailment of the conversation. “Okay okay okay, but put that aside, who is he!?” My hand waved away the changing topic, attempting to keep Seongho focused.

“Alriiiiight!” Seongho held his hands in front of me, trying to shush me before continuing. “His name is Hyunmin, he started frequenting the lounge a little while ago and we just clicked. He just texted saying he was sad he missed me since I slipped out of work early to come here.”

“Oh my god, and you didn’t think to tell me this!? Com’on, I wanna know all about him, spill it.” Seongho delved into the story of a young man who arrived one night, sitting at the end of the bar and striking up a conversation with him, freshly out of a breakup and searching for  distraction in a glass of alcohol. He was a surprisingly chipper one, quickly finding new comfort in Seongho’s company instead of whoever had just broken the poor boy’s heart.

From there he quickly joined the list of regulars, their interactions being the highlight of each other’s days. Seongho beamed with pride as he explained the night he finally had the courage to slide Hyunmin his number, and him gladly accepting it, the two of them becoming inseparable from then on.

“I seriously can’t believe you’ve waited all this time to tell me that you’re seeing someone.” I swapped my glass for my bottle on the table, falling back into the cushions with the back of my hand over my forehead, feigning dramatic offense.

“Okay, you have no room to talk about holding secrets.” Seongho raised his brows as he stared me down, myself just trying to hide my face behind the neck of my bottle.

“You’re not going to let me live this down? Are you?”

“Not in the slightest.” He grinned as he relaxed with another sip, before running off into his next topic.

I watched the two boys as they engaged in a conversation, primarily dominated by Seongho. They finally seemed at ease in each other’s company, soft grins on both of their faces as they discussed the most random of pointless topics. 

Noticing my absence from the conversation, Seongho targeted me, a finger waving in the air as he pointed towards me.

“You don’t…” He hesitated for a moment, blinking as he finally let himself catch a breath. “...you don’t even know what’s been going on at work!” He had started informing me of everything that had happened at Blossom since my exit, and all of the updates I had missed with our regulars;

One now wears a ring, 

One lost his job, 

And one welcomed a new child into the family.

His stories may be difficult to decipher as the words became one incoherent mess, but I thankfully had become fluent enough in drunk Seongho speech to translate.

I couldn’t help but feel a twinge of sadness, but also surprise, at the fact I was missing my days at Blossom. The lounge had been such a primary aspect of my life for so long. Mundane, yes, but also some of the most entertaining moments I had the pleasure to experience in Gangnam, and it had brought me and my closest friend together.

I sunk back into the cushions, letting my head fall back with closed eyes, hoping the world may decide to stop spinning for just two seconds. I was blissfully able to keep their conversations as ambient white noise for a bit, but Seongho somehow segueing the topic to frogs finally had me raising my head in confused entertainment. I almost decided to interject, but thinking it was best to opt silent, just seeing where he’d have the ability to take this.

Seongho fell back into the couch as he spoke, Minho watching him with humor as he examined his drunken state. Seongho’s head lolled to the side, sentence trailing off as he met Minho’s gaze, Minho staring back confused at his abrupt halt on his spewing of words.

“Howww have you not fucked him with eyes like that?” 

Minho’s cocky smirk quickly stretched across his face as he gave a soft shrug, staring back at Seongho with sharp eyes.

“I don’t know baby, why don’t you stare a little longer and see if you can resist me too.” My airways are filled with beer as I choked on my drink, sitting up abruptly with my hand immediately clapping over my mouth as I struggled for breath. 

Seongho’s mouth hung open in shock, a grin shining through his cheeks, before his head slowly rolled back to me. 

“You better be getting on that, like now, or I’ll beat you to it.”

“Oh my god, can both of you please behave yourselves!?" I tried to hide my blushing face in my hands, the heat rising to my cheeks far too fast. "I think I preferred you two fighting, dear god." I mumbled.

"What? You frustrated that he's saying the words you've been too scared to, dear?" Sure enough, Minho's cocky nature wasted no time quickly returning, my eyes growing wide in shock as his head tilted with a smirk. 

"Seeeeee? There we go!" Seongho grinned like a damn idiot, clearly proud of himself. 

"Stop instigating!" I shoved him to the side, causing him to slightly topple over, supporting his weight on his elbow as he couldn't control his laughter. "You little shit." 

If I was to be completely honest, the night had been progressing much smoother than I would have initially expected. Minho seemed to be on his best behavior, except for his cocky comments that slipped into the conversation so effortlessly, and Seongho just had to show his happy, carefree side in order to avoid conflict.

If you had observed Seongho and him now, you would have never guessed about their rocky start. They piggy-backed off each other flawlessly, like they had been friends for years. 

Time felt like it had slipped through our fingers, the three of us failing to ever check a clock for awareness of just how much time we had wasted. A heated game of uno having to be cut short in fear of noise complaints, arguments and debates about the most trivial of subjects, and apparently the recurring circling back to frogs?

I was now standing before the two of them, drink in hand, as Seongho so calmly tried to assure me he was a completely reasonable drunk to deal with.

“I’m sorry?” I leaned forward, bewildered. “I’ve got to babysit you every time we walk home. You still have a traffic cone in your living room because I turned my back for two seconds.”

“Listen listen listen.” His eyes closed, head lolling to the side as he slowly waved his hands through the air “Potato potato.” My eyes squinted as I slowly tilted my head to the side, my bottle frozen in time in front of my lips before taking a drink. 

“You realize you’re supposed to pronounce it both ways, right? Not just say potato twice…” My mouth hung open as I stared at a lost Seongho, and I swore I could see sparks behind his eyes as his final two brain cells rubbed together to try and form a coherent thought. “And even then, the statement isn’t even relevant to what I was saying?”

Minho snickered beside us, mouth pressed into a firm line as he tried to hold back his laughter. I rubbed my fingers into my eyes with sigh, the arrival of dumbass drunk Seongho clearly making his appearance.

“But you got my point! D-Did you not?” His arms spread out to the side, accompanying his slurred words, as he tried to find his validation.

“Seongho… Buddy…I’m cutting you off.” My face dropped painfully as I stared at him, genuine worry for his well-being starting to creep up on me as I reached forward and pulled his bottle from his hands. Out of the corner of my eye, I can barely make out Minho, eyes glued on me and not breaking. I turned toward him with a glare, the weight of his eyes staring to drop onto me. “Can you stop staring please?”

Minho’s smirk grew once more, and the mighty desire to slap it off his face growing alongside it. His head slowly tilted, a mischievous look in his eyes.

“What? Does it make you nervous when I stare?” The question itself could be innocent, but the intent behind his eyes presented it as anything but. 

"Ya know, has anyone told you that you're an insufferable flirt when you're drunk?" I bent over with a huff, setting Seongho’s drink onto the coffee table, as I rose with hands on hips to be met with Minho standing slowly closing the space between us, that goddamn smirk still plastered across his face. 

"I think you just want me to be the bad guy to distract yourself from how bad you want me."

I told myself to look away, to break our sharp stare as the heat began rising into my cheeks, and I couldn’t even pinpoint if the fuzziness in my brain was being caused by the alcohol in my system for Minho. His lips slightly parted with a chuckle, the edge of his mouth never dropping out of that fucking smirk. His damn hair falling so effortlessly in front of his face. 

His eyes darkened as they studied my face, surely my skin was morphing into a multitude of shades of red, breath caught in my throat as I tried to search for a response.

"Has anyone told you that you fluster a bit too easily?" His head tilted slightly, absorbing the entertainment he was enjoying at my expense. 

"The sexual tension in this room is physically suffocating." Seongho grabbed his bottle off the table and leaned back into the couch, one arm draped over the back as the other poured his drink into his mouth, observing the scene unfold before him. I had briefly forgotten he was even in the room, the walls feeling like they were closing in on me just as Minho was.

"Ew." My head snapped towards Seongho, my flushed cheeks fading as my face morphed into one of disgust. Meanwhile Minho's eyes didn't leave me for a moment, continuing to stare me down.

"Then read the room and leave." Mihno’s words may have been pointed at Seongho, but they floated through the air straight to me, his gaze refusing to break.

"Okay ew, the sequel." My hands pressed into Minho's chest as I shoved him away from me. "No. Go away." 

"Whatever you say, dear." My mouth sat agape as my eyes studied different aspects of Minho’s face, the smirk stretching across his cheeks, meanwhile my brain short circuiting at the man in front of me. His head slowly tilted, brows raised, as he waited for a response. His eyes slowly scanned down my figure before meeting mine again, tongue running along the inside of his cheek with a snicker. With a scoff I pushed by him, my feet struggling to take me away as fast as possible without going into a full blown sprint. 

Tucking myself into the confines of the kitchen, I dipped my head into the fridge with the hopes of a drink, but also the possibility that the cold might knock me back into my senses. I let myself delay getting up, forcing deep breathes through the crisp air, before finally standing with a can in hand. 

“Well Seongho seems to be enjoying himself.”

“Jesus fucking christ Minho.” My hand clutched to my chest with a jump as the newly dissipated adrenaline rushed right back into my body, my other arm supporting me as I leaned into the counter. “How is it that you make no sound when you move?”

“I guess you could say it comes with the job.” His mask faded slightly for just a moment as he stared down to the bottle in his hand, before snapping himself out of it, that smirk spreading back across his face as he tilted the bottle in my direction before taking a swig. “You should honestly get better at that, I still hear you fumbling around the house in the middle of the night.” 

My lips pursed as I stared him down with narrow eyes, the familiar Minho returning before me.

“What?” His smile morphed into lost confusion at my glare, dropping the bottle from his lips. “Did I play along too well?” 

My expression quickly flattened, still not saying a word as I pulled myself up onto the counter and rested my elbows on my knees.

“You call that playing along?”

“Well… yeah. I thought that things needed to go better tonight so I was gonna make sure he enjoyed himself and so I just ran with it and I figured he probably shouldn’t hate me if we’re gonna have to work with him and-”

“Minho.” His mashed up ramblings stopped as his eyes met mine, gaze in a lost stare as his lips slightly parted, frozen in place. “You’re fine, it’s fine. Just damn, really caught me off guard there.”  I leaned back into the upper cabinets, crossing one leg over the other as I stared into the blurry distance, trying to blink to focus my vision.

“Oh really?” He slowly stepped closer, that fucking smug smile returning in a flash. “Are you saying you didn’t like it then?”

“Oh nope nope nope.” I placed my hand on his chest and he closed the distance between us, promptly pulling myself off the counter and pushing him away from me. “Nope nope. We’re not doing this again. It’s bedtime.” He chuckled as I left him behind in the kitchen, stopping the moment I entered the living room, witnessing Seongho out cold on the couch. I knelt before him, trying to nudge him awake.

“Hey Seongho, wake up. You’re sleeping in my bed so Minho can keep his couch.” His eyes stayed glued shut, a groan leaving his lips as he rolled over and faced away from me. “You little shit… Seongho!” I nudged him a bit harder, still to no avail. I stood, hands on my hips with a groan. “How the fuck did you even fall asleep so fast?”

“It’s really no problem, I can just sleep on the floor.” Minho spoke up behind me as he made his way into the room, leaning against the side of the couch.

“Hell no! I’m not letting someone who’s a guest in my home sleep on the floor.”

“Okay? And I’m not letting you sleep on the floor in your own home? Especially with an injured shoulder.”

“Just go get in the bed, Minho, please.” My shoulders dropped in exhaustion, not wanting to be having this debate when I would much rather be knocked out like Seongho.

“The only way I’m sleeping in that bed is if you are too.” I froze, blinking at him as I struggled to comprehend the words that just came out of him, he simply returned a nonchalant shrug. “Those are my terms.”    

I looked down to my feet before squeezing my eyes shut, rubbing the tips of my fingers into their sockets with a groan.

“Fine, fine.” I looked up to him with the shoo of the hand. “Go, I’ll turn everything off and be there in a moment.”

“So help me god if I find you sleeping on the floor-”

“I’m not trying to trick you Minho, just go get in the damn bed.” With a sharp stare he grabbed his bag, before turning down the hall to my room. My eyes fell back on Seongho peacefully sleeping on the couch like a rock, “I hate you for this.”

With the apartment fully darkened, and the doors locks double checked, I hesitated before pushing my bedroom door open. This shouldn’t be freaking me out, why is this freaking me out? 

As I stepped in, the room was softly lit by my bedside light, Minho propped against the headboard having quickly changed back into his sweats and t-shirt, finger scrolling away on his phone.

“Well thank you for listening for once.” He didn’t even look up from his phone, unaware of the glare he received before I crossed to my dresser, pulling out shorts and a t-shirt.

I quickly retreated from the room in silence, shuffling into the bathroom to change. As I came back, Minho placed his phone upon the nightstand, starting to settle himself into the bed.

After hesitation, I slipped under the covers, pulling the blanket up to my chin as I rolled onto my side and away from Minho, silent as I settled myself into position. 

With a soft chuckle the light flicked off, Minho shuffling into the sheets behind me within the darkness.

“Don’t be taking this as a victory.” I grumbled, trying to find a comfortable position that left plenty of room between the two of us, his soft snicker quite evident in the silence.

“Whatever, it’s a victory in my book.”

Next Chapter

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