#[[ if it brings him shit he's gonna blame it on the liquor ]]

[countlessrealities]

The first 5 Asks to send 💋 get a kiss || Rick: 1/5

@hclluvahctel sent: 💋 Ozzie and Rick?

Yet another night, yet another visit to Asmodeus' club. Rick would never admit it out loud, but it is becoming a habit. If asked, he'd say that he keeps going back because he can score free great drinks more often than not, as the owner's close acquaintance, but in truth there's a lot more than just that.

He likes the place, enjoys the shows, vibes with the general atmosphere. And, if he has to be fully honest, he loves the company.

The embodiment of Lust is hilarious, witty, delightful. He lets Rick say whatever shit passes through his mouth, no matter how bad, and not only he acknowledges it, but he also doesn't judge him. He has even laughed at some of the scientist's worst jokes ever.

Not to mention that he's hot. Rick has fucked his way across the multiverse and back but, while he's open to fucking anyone and anything that can consent, he does have a bit of a type. Asmodeus happens to check all those boxes.

Rick knows that the demon has a partner. They have never mentioned it, but he has picked up that piece of information pretty quickly (and he might have checked the local social medias too). He has never made a habit of getting in the way of others' relationships and he doesn't want to start now, or ever, but they are also in an area of Hell dedicated to lustful transgressions.

A small indulgence won't get him in trouble, will it? Not to mention that he has hardly ever been accused of being wise.

"H-Hey, buddy, you have a little something...Eh, l-let me get it for you."

It's clichéd as hell, or at least it would sound like that to someone who can catch up with his true intentions quickly enough, but he hopes that Asmodeus won't. The element of surprise is very much crucial for his little scheme.

Without waiting for an answer, he reaches out for the sin's face, as to use his fingers to wipe off the stain that it's not there, but at the last moment his whole body leans forward, following the movement of his his arm.

He doesn't go for the demon's main face. As tempting as it is and as bold as the alcohol in his system is making him, he is aware that he's still testing the waters here. So, the best course of action is to go for a less impactful target.

And those how his mouth finds one of Asmodeus' side heads, delivering a kiss that it's just slightly more than a chaste pet, but that still dares to linger for too long to be a tease or a mistake. Long enough to be clearly purposeful.

As he moves away, a sly smirk opens on his lips, like a cat who got the cream. Or something close enough to it.

"T-There you go, baby," he hums in satisfaction, as if he has done nothing that pushing a crumble off the other's face. "S-So, how can a guy get another round out of you?"

Whether he's talking about his currently empty glass or something much more intimate, it's unclear, and it's on purpose. He's letting the sin choose whether he wants to take an out and ignore the kiss, or address it and divulge the rules.

Rick is hoping for the former, but he isn't too high maintenance. He has learnt that, on the long term, it's better to get a hint, especially when allowed to wash it down with strong, good booze, and keep a precious friendship, than cutting ties over something as stupid as rejection.

[meguwumibear]

A Night Out Dancing

Tomorrow your party will reach JuLai. Tonight Wolfwood wants to dance.

thank you @/firein-thesky for commissioning this piece for the @ficsforgaza collaboration

The sky above No Man’s Land is inky and starless. The air stale and still. Despite the hour, the world around you is oppressively warm and dry. Nights in the desert are usually bitterly cold. You’re not sure what’s gotten into the weather today.

Vash at least doesn’t seem plagued by strange temperature, but then Vash can sleep through anything, including Meryl’s jerky driving, so the comparison isn’t fair. Meryl’s fast asleep too, tucked neatly into the driver’s seat. You watch her toss and turn for a while, wondering what she dreams of. Someplace nice, hopefully. Somewhere lush and flourishing and green.

Even Roberto seems to have found sleep, albeit at the bottom of a bottle. He’s snoring gently in the passenger seat, mouth wide open, empty liquor bottle still clutched tightly in his hands.

Seems everyone’s immune to the hot desert night but you.

There’s a chance it isn’t the heat keeping you up. It’s possible you’re making excuses, blaming the external world around you for your insomnia so you don’t have to turn inward, so you don’t have to confront your building anxieties about what the future holds for your little traveling party. It’s going to crack and splinter apart, isn’t it? Like that land mass you once read about in a book that spoke of some far away planet called Earth. Pangaea. A supercontinent forced apart by shifting tectonic plates.

Tomorrow, you’ll reach JuLai, and everyone will drift away from you. You’ll spend the rest of your life trying to remember what it felt like to be whole.

Fuck it. If you’re not gonna get some shut eye, you may as well make yourself useful.

Wolfwood is perched on a sand dune, resting against his cross shaped gun, lit cigarette in hand, nearly burnt down to the filter. He takes one final drag of it as he sees you approach, then snubs the thing out in the sand.

“I’ll take over the watch,” you tell him, eyes drawn to the little ‘o’ shape his mouth makes as he lazily releases the final dregs of smoke.

“Not your turn yet, sweetheart,” he replies. “Go back to sleep.”

If only you could.

“Haven’t been able to. Too much shit on my mind. No sense in my staring at the back of my eyelids when I could be doing this instead.”

Wolfwood stares at you through tinted shades he hasn’t bothered to remove despite the darkness of the night. The glasses are a part of his costume, of his carefully crafted mask that even after months of travelling together he’s still hiding behind. He told you he’s an undertaker, but he dresses like a priest. On a runaway Sandsteamer, you learn he is an orphan. You’ve learned nothing since.

“You should take better care of yourself,” he says, as if caring for yourself is easy.

“You’re one to talk,” you reply, eyes giving him a quick once over. It’s been a few days since you’ve spent the night somewhere with a working bathroom. Without a mirror or razor, the stubble on his chin has grown more and more pronounced. The hairs suit him, you think. Your fingers itch to run along his jaw.

“You’re staring,” he observes, mouth crooking into a smug grin because the undertaker or priest or whatever the fuck he is knows how handsome he is.

“Am I?”

Wolfwood stands slowly, brushing beads of sand off him as he does so. You try to keep your eyes on his face, on the slope of his nose, the dimples on his cheeks, but they wander anyway, along his broad shoulders, down his tiny waist. You’ll miss him when this is over, you decide.

“Wanna dance?” he asks suddenly. The question throws you off kilter. How long has it been since you’ve done something so mundane? Will you even remember how? Is it appropriate to dance given what tomorrow may bring?

“What about-”

“Needle-noggin and the lot are out like a light. No one will notice if we steal a few minutes for ourselves.”

He closes the gap between the two of you and links his right hand with yours, fingers interlocking. His hands are large and calloused from lugging around that heavy gun of his. Briefly, you wonder just how strong the guy really is.

 “But there isn’t any music,” you protest weakly. Wolfwood is frustratingly good at sapping away your resolve.

“Don’t need any. We’ll make our own,” he insists, slipping an arm around the small of your back and pressing you close, closer, and closer still.

This close to him, you can see deep into his eyes. There’s fear in them. Sadness too. He’s trying and failing to mask the emotions with a smile, with this dance. It must be so exhausting, you think, always having to pretend.

“One dance,” you surrender, relaxing into his embrace. He smells sharply of tobacco and nicotine, though you note hints of something a bit earthier underneath. Sweat, probably. It’s been a while since any of you have showered. “Then bed. Unlike you and Vash, some of us need our beauty sleep.”

A lopsided grin swims across his handsome face.

 “Aw, think I’m beautiful, sweetheart? That’s nice.”

There’s a biting remark on the tip of your tongue that never fully forms. Yeah, actually, you do think he’s beautiful. You’ve thought so ever since Meryl slammed the news van into him all those months ago. The impact should have killed him—it would’ve killed you—but Wolfwood simply rose up from the sand as if rising from an interrupted slumber. Beautiful, even with rivulets of blood trickling down his face.

“Shut up,” you hiss, cheeks heating as you think a bit too intensely about his sturdy body which is now pressed flush against your own. Has Wolfwood always been this tall? This large? His giant frame engulfs you as the two of you sway together, in tandem with Wolfwood’s quiet humming.

You rest your head against his sternum, listening to the sound of his heart beating quick and urgent like the wings of a bird. His chest vibrates as he hums his tune. You can’t seem to place the song. Likely, he’s making it up as he goes, the tempo slow and somber like a dirge.

“Where’d you learn to dance?” you ask him, conscious of the way your two left feet have nearly tripped him up twice. Lucky for you both he’s not just a hulking lump of muscle. He’s got a great center of balance too.

You chalk your awkwardness up to the loose, shifting sands and not to the odd sensation forming in the pit of your stomach. More unfamiliar than unpleasant. You swallow a few times in an attempt to settle it.

Wolfwood shrugs, spinning the two of you round and round in circles. “It’s not all that different than fighting.”

There’s truth to that, you suppose, remembering the fight on the Sandsteamer. Wolfwood refused to talk about the stranger you all watched disappear into the open maw of the sand ocean, but it was obvious the man once meant something to him.

“You’re thinking too much,” he says. “Just follow my lead.”

So you do. You let him whirl you around the desert dunes for what feels like hours, grinning up at him through thick lashes when you manage to step on his toes. Again. He laughs, a little too loudly, and you have to remind him that if he’s not careful he’ll wake your sleeping companions.

“What are you going to do if everything goes well tomorrow?”

For the first time all night, it’s Wolfwood who stumbles. The misstep is small, slight, if you weren’t so entangled, you may have missed it, but you are entangled so you feel everything. You feel his feet stall as the question leaves your lips. You feel the rise and fall of his belly as he takes a deep steadying breath.   

His hand travels up the length of your spine, coming to rest at the nape of your neck. He thumbs across your vertebrae and you recognize the ministration for what it is: a silent plea for you to let the topic drop and just enjoy this moment the two of you managed to carve out for yourselves amidst all the chaos of the world.

You let your head drop once more, tucking it beneath his collarbone, right above his heart, still rabbiting in his chest. He isn’t humming anymore. There’s nothing to help the two of you keep time as you continue to sway together, now gliding across the sand like worms.

Around you, the clouds begin to clear and bright, twinkling stars start to peek out from behind them. A soft breeze kicks up around you, and the sand particles scatter with it. Wolfwood—Nicholas—keeps you pressed against him as the temperature mercifully begins to drop.

Your mind still wanders from time to time, curious what tomorrow may bring.

Who cares, you decide. It doesn’t matter.

Tonight, you’re content to dance.

[nyxiswrites1200]

61. “I love you. I’m completely and utterly in love with you. Please don’t get married.”

83. “It’s always been you.”

Could you write something with these 2 please?❤️ with Dean Winchester Please !!!!

~ 𝑼𝒏𝒔𝒑𝒐𝒌𝒆𝒏 ~

Dean Winchester x GN!Reader

Warnings: SFW, Cheating(?), Crashing a wedding, Kisses, Self doubt, Unspoken feelings, Feelings come out

Mentions: Reader is a hunter™, Reader is getting married, Reader has they/them pronouns, Mentions Sam

An: Hey babes! Taking some requests for inspo <3 this is for my Dean babes ;) I'll be bringing some NSFW soon, don't worry. Hope you enjoy this little drabble <3

----

You were gonna get married. You weren't as excited as you thought you'd be. All the white seems to feel like shades of gray and every smile seems to just barely meet the eyes.

You'd been a hunter for a long time. Finally, you decided to take a break. That break turned into a year and then another...and now you were getting ready for your wedding.

Your lover wasn't a bad choice. They were just...it all felt too mundane for you. It doesn't help that you have the Winchesters to compare to.

Dean Winchester...you'd fallen for him a long time ago.

When you were hunting with the Winchesters, you became a regular trustful partner.

You and Dean had something, you slept together, and feelings were there but...you didn't think Dean wanted the same thing you did. You wanted to be his, his only at that. But you couldn't blame him if he wasn't ready or he just didn't want that. A lot of hunters don't commit because of the job.

You kept in contact with the Winchesters but definitely don't see them as often as you'd like.

They were here...amongst all the gray shades, were the two of them. You were almost sure Dean was probably flirting with some woman at the event and Sam was nursing a glass of champagne, probably sitting off in the corner.

But your assumptions were wrong, little to your knowledge...

Dean was nursing a glass of strong liquor and Sam was giving him that look. "Don't look at me like that, Sammy.." he sighed and Sam didn't budge "Yeah? Then how about telling them how you feel before you lose the chance" Sam encourages, he knows Dean's true feelings. It was written all over him when they received that wedding invite.

"They found someone else, Sam...this is their life. It's what they want-" "And what if it's not? What if this is all they think they can get? Because they don't have you"

Sam was almost always too logical for Dean. He also knew Dean far too well...

Dean lets out a frustrated groan "Fine, but if this shit hits the fan, drinks are definitely on you. I'm gonna fucking need it..."

You sighed softly as you sat down in the chair in your dressing room. Then you hear the door open, you quickly turn and notice Dean standing there.

"Dean, what are you doing?" You ask curiously, more happy to see him than you wish to admit. "Did you pick the lock?" You held back a chuckle, Dean rubbed the back of his neck "Knocking seemed awkward..."

Silence fell for a moment before Dean sighed and spoke up. "Listen, you can take this however and hell, you can even punch me after if it makes you feel better but...Sammy's got me in here like some poet" he said with a small ironic laugh.

"Sweetheart, there's no easy way to tell you this and I don't wanna ruin your day-"

You interrupt him as you look at him with curiosity and maybe a bit of hope "You're rambling, Dee" you say softly.

Dean sighs, hearing you call him that again only furthered his resolve. "Right...sweetheart, I love you, I've always loved you, I mean- Hell, it's always been you...I may not be able to stop you from getting married if this is what you want." He wets his lips as he runs a hand through his hair "But if it isn't, then I promise, I will be what you want. I'll be your boyfriend, I'll be whatever you want from me but I just need to have you in my life. It hasn't been the same without you around...maybe Sammy misses you too because he's got me inspired and shit to come in here" he laughs but you can tell it's nervous and not cocky.

"I'm sorry- I'm rambling, I shouldn't be-" Dean was cut off again as you smash your lips against his. He stumbles and takes a second to process before kissing you back. One of his arms around your waist and the other tucked into the back of your hair as he holds you closer than ever.

When you finally needed a breath, you pulled away. "Damn you, Dee! Couldn't have said this like a year ago" you tease but there's some seriousness to your words. Dean can't help but chuckle and smirk "I'm sorry, sweetheart, the real crime here is you invited me and there's no pie at this wedding" he says softly as he cups your cheek and caresses it with his thumb. You can't help but laugh at how not serious he is at times.

You sigh as you lean into his touch "What am I supposed to do now?"

Dean looks at you as he smiles "Well...I've never crashed a wedding before. Could be fun-" you playfully hit his chest and he chuckles. "My poor fiance, I shouldn't have even done this" you said softly, some self doubt starting to creep in. Dean kisses your forehead "Hey, it's not your fault. Our lives are fucking insane, what's a little more to the pile?" He smirks.

"Why the hell did I have to fall for you" you tease with a small chuckle and Dean smirks "It's not your fault, babe. I have that effect-"

You cut him off with another kiss. He doesn't hesitate to respond to it.

You did feel bad for your lover but...it'd be a disservice to both of you if you were only comfortable with your marriage...never thought you'd be ruining your own wedding with Dean Winchester.

Yet, you've never been happier.

[ell-alexanderarnold]

Words bubble up like soda pop

Summary: Y/n gets fed up by the arguments her and Trent keeps having

Angst & Fluff

Another argument had ruined your day, small conflicts bubble up to a big argument. You can’t believe the arguments kept sneaking up behind your back every day, you’re sick of it. But neither of you cares about it, that’s the problem you can’t seem to take the matter into your own hands. It’s like an never ending loop, conflict-argument-he says he’s sorry and tells you he loves you- cuddles then it goes on.

-

“I said I’m not feeling well, why can’t you accept it?” You said, it felt like the hundredth time you’ve said it. Tonight Trent’s friend is hosting a party that he wants to go to but you have no interest of going, you just couldn’t stand him at the moment after all the words he had said to you last night plus all the nights before that. “You only care about yourself Y/n” Same sentence he brings up every fight. Not just that, your mental health has been shit as well and it blends into the state you’re at in your relationship with Trent. He knows that you’ve been fighting with your mental health before, but now when the season isn’t going well for him he has started to blame himself for a lot of things that’s happening with the team. He uses you as a wall to throw all his emotions on you- which you didn’t mind at the beginning, you wanted to be there for him but now it has become too much.

“Come on don’t be dull, it will cheer you up” Trent pleaded.

You thought about it for a minute. Maybe this was the point where you couldn’t care less, you felt like everything in your life was out of place, why not have a little fun in all this mess?

”Fine, I’ll go” You stated.

You spent the rest of your afternoon getting ready for the party, you took a shower, picked an outfit, did you makeup. You decided to go for a navy blue dress and loose curls in your hair. This was the first time in a long time you felt beautiful, you smiled in the mirror and then went down the stairs, Trent was waiting on the couch looking at his phone until he saw you.

He walked over to you and spoke “Wow baby, you look..”

“Amazing? Yea I know”

“Wish I could say the same” You teased.

“Hey!” Trent gushed as he grabbed you round your waist and kissed your neck.

You felt his warmth around you, his perfume that comforted you, you felt safe in his arms. But suddenly you remembered how he had treated you lately and decided to take a step back.

“Trent, we should go” You spoke up after a moment in his embrace.

“You’re right” He said and let go of you as the two of you walked to the hallway and got ready to leave.

In the car on your way to the party you two listened to your shared playlist and vibed along with the songs - acting like everything was okay between you two, you got flashbacks from the beginning of your relationship when you were two dumb teenagers madly in love. You think back and wondered where did it go wrong?

When you arrive at Trent’s friend house you see many cars parked outside the house and you already know is gonna be a tough night.

You entered the house and loud music is playing, people dancing and you see Trent’s friend approach you two.

“Trent, nice to see you! And this is?”

“My girl, Y/n” Trent said as he looked at you and you smiled at his friend.

You leave Trent to speak with his mates and you sit down at the bar ordering one shot for yourself. You felt the liquor burn down your throat, as Trent sat down next to you.

“Take it easy Y/n don’t lose it again” Trent mumbled.

“Excuse me?” You snapped.

“Don’t want you all wasted, just saying” He shrugged as you felt the anger rising inside of you, he could piss you off so easily and you hated it.

“Don’t tell me what to do, I can handle myself”

“Clearly not” He accused.

“Piss off Trent” You cursed back at him and walked away to get away from him. As you were on your way to the restroom you could notice someone following you, Trent. He grabbed your wrist and spoke“Where are you going?”

You didn’t answer him and kept moving forward and locked the door. You had reached your breaking point, it all crashed down on you. You were sobbing loudly but at this point you didn’t care, you were also pretty sure that the music was too loud for anyone to hear you until your phone buzzed.

Trent: I can hear you Y/n, let me in please

You slowly got up from the floor and unlocked the door, he looked shocked like he had never seen you this broken before.

“Y/n, What’s wrong? Wh-“

“What’s wrong? What is wrong Trent? I’m tired of this.” You cried into his chest as he wrapped his arms around you.

“Tired of what my love?” He uttered.

“Can’t you see? We keep having these fights every single day, it’s destroying us. Aren’t you tired too?”

“Yeah trust me I am” He chuckled as you sniffed.

“Then why aren’t we doing anything about it?” You sighed.

“Three years ago I would never have thought I'd be in a restroom with you crying over our relationship” He scoffed.

“Trent answer me”

“I don’t know Y/n, but I’m sorry it has to be this way. I really am” Trent said as you noticed his eyes began to tear up.

Great. Now you’re both crying together, what have you two done do yourselves? You knew you two couldn’t escape that you loved each other too much to break up, so that felt safe in your head. He couldn’t live without you, you couldn’t live without him, who would take care of you when you’re wasted like this? Trent would, who would take of him after he lost a game? You would.

“I love you Trent” You said.

“We’re gonna fix this Y/n, okay?” He assured.

“Okay” You said as you took a deep breath to calm down.

Trent hold you in his arms for a while, just the two of you in a restroom on a Saturday night.

“Let’s go home and watch a movie together” Trent suggested.

“Only if you let me choose”

“Of course my girl” He said and kissed you.

[cowboydisaster]

The Fire In Your Eyes

part II: blackwater i

originally posted on 22 february 2023

pairing: Arthur Morgan x fem!reader

word count: 4k

summary: you start to settle in with the gang, making some friends and some enemies. As you acclimate to your new life, parts of you miss the freedom of solitude, while a new feeling drives you towards companionship.

a/n: chapter two is here! For those of you that missed the post, I will be updating this series with a new chapter every wednesday. I'm super proud of this one. Thanks to @margowritesthings for being my beta reader, biggest supporter, and my ride or die

SERIES MASTERPOST

"The hell did you buy in there anyway? A book?" You ask, trotting closer to Arthur and Boadicea to peek over his reins. There's a little leather bound book in his hands that he angrily stuffs into his satchel. You’ve both just left the general store in Blackwater after picking up some supplies for the good of the camp. You have no money, but Arthur had brought camp funds to purchase supplies for everyone. While in the store, he’d found a small leather bound book, and you’ve been thinking about it since you both left the store.

"Ain't none of your business lady, now let's get back." He huffs, spurring Boadicea into a canter past the old withering Blackwater church. The sound of hooves on dirt is loud as you push the horse, gripping tightly onto the saddle horn for extra stability.

"Well if it's none of my business, you shouldn't have bought it in front of me. That's on you." You counter, curious if Arthur even knows how to read, let alone enjoys it. You’ve only been with the gang for three and a half days, but in that time you’ve been able to observe the other gang members. Mostly, you’ve stuck to yourself, eating and working alone unless Ms. Grimshaw makes you work with the girls. But in that time, all you’ve seen Arthur do is physical labor, like chopping wood, going out on jobs, or planning with Dutch and Hosea. You had wrongfully assumed he’s the type of man who only entertains himself with liquor, women and fighting. Every day you seem to be proving yourself more and more wrong. 

"I bought it in front of you because I have to take you with me. You're like a goddamn pet, take my eyes off ya for a second and you're starting something. Dutch didn’t want you causin’ trouble so he told me to keep an eye on ya." 

Fury bubbles in your chest at the new information. This is about that big ugly bastard, what's his name. The past few days you've spent at their camp all he's done is sleep, drink and annoy everyone. He hasn't changed his sweat stained blue flannel since you've been there, and his big brown draft horse has never left the hitching post. He had made some rather crass comments about Arthur bringing you back and you punched him right in the face for it. Nearly knocked him on his ass. It got an amused chuckle out of Arthur, but the other gang members weren't too pleased about you strutting into their camp and starting fights. He started it, you just finished it. But of course you, the newcomer, are to blame and now you need a babysitter. 

"Gonna keep an eye on me, that's it? What- you're gonna sleep next to my bedroll too? Make sure I don't go out and start beating up the folk, even the ones that need it?" You growl, irritated with Dutch for giving you a chaperone, and at Arthur for being the chaperone. 

"If that's what it takes to keep that damn temper under control then, sure" Arthur laughs.

"I guess I'd rather go buyin' romance novels with you then sittin' back there with some of those fools." You bite, cantering towards the opening of the camp. 

"I- dammit woman, it ain't a book. It's a journal. Lost my old one some months ago in a fire.  I saw this one and I just picked it up..." He says. 

You're utterly shocked. He journals? A new little layer of this big tough outlaw falls away and you can peek into the man inside. He goes around saving women in distress and writes about his feelings? Well shit. 

"Never took you for a writer, Mr. Morgan, but it suits you well. Maybe one day you'll have to let me peek in there, see what goes on in that head a you-" 

You stop in your tracks at the sound coming from camp. It's a rat-like voice with a greasy, nasty vocabulary. He's yelling, harassing someone for something. It's an unfamiliar voice and you spur the buckskin faster after Arthur to find the source. Arthur doesn’t look entirely alarmed, more annoyed, as if he knows the voice. When he sees the worry on your face, he’s quick to respond.

"That's Micah… you steer clear of him, alright?" He asks, to which you don't answer.

As your horses slow, stepping into the camp, you hop down from the saddle, tossing your reins over the hitching post and jog into the open area filled with tents. 

"The hells goin' on now? You've been back five goddamn minutes and your stirrin' up a ruckus." Arthur calls out from beside you. 

A medium height, blonde man with a nasty smile and pale blue eyes turns around, running his fingers over his thick mustache. His red shirt is stained with what you assume to be the beer that he reeks of. It has filled his stomach, giving him a drinker’s gut and painting his nose with red blotches. Just the sight of him has you backing up a few steps.

"Awe, didntcha' miss me, Morgan?" He asks sarcastically, holding his arms out in mock disbelief. 

Arthur sports a deep scowl as he glares at Micah, stepping towards him. It's then that Micah notices you standing beside Arthur. You're much shorter than him, but you hold your chin up high, shoulders pushed back. Micah’s lips curl up in an eerie smile as he runs his eyes over your body.

"Well who might you be, madam?" Micah sneers. Pure anger and aggression pump through your veins as he slowly rakes his eyes over your figure. Then his eyes move around to the people in camp, lingering on Arthur's. 

"She claimed? You Morgan's whore then? Say, you think he'll share you with me?" Micah laughs maniacally, bending back and resting his hands on his gun belt. His blonde hair is filthy, his teeth even more so, everything about this man repels you. He's a snake, a shifty rat and you can see it from a mile away. 

"I ain't no one's whore." You squint, wishing to just take this bastard out and be done with it. 

"Careful, Micah. She'll tear you a new one." Arthur warns, seemingly hoping that you will. God, he would love to watch you beat the shit out of Micah. He'd pay to.  

Micah seems to be amused by this, laughing loudly and glancing around the camp to see if anyone heard Arthur. He doesn't believe for a fraction of a second that you could best him.

"I ain't afraid of an itty bitty lady," Micah steps forward, glancing down over you before shifting his eyes and addressing Arthur,

"She'd look real pretty on her knees for me, wouldn't she Ar-"

You knee him as hard as you can, right in the groin, causing him to bend at the waist and groan in pain. 

"Y-You bitch!" He yells, right before you slip a pair of metal knuckles that were in your pocket over your fingers and punch him square in the cheekbone. The knuckles cut up his face, blood trickling down his cheek before he falls over, completely knocked out cold. You're a small woman, but with some little adjustments, you're stronger than the men. You slip the knuckles off, sliding them back into your pocket and tapping them for good measure.

"Tried to warn the bastard…" Arthur sighs, grabbing Micah by the feet and dragging him towards the outskirts of camp where he'll probably wake up later. You realize that you'd gained a bit of a crowd, blushing as you look around and see several pleased faces. You remember most of their names. The red haired Irishman, Sean steps over to you, proudly slapping you on the back with a huge grin. 

"Ha! Ya knocked him right on his ass ‘tere! So much for an itty bitty lady, eh?"

A blonde haired woman, a little taller than you comes over with a big smile. She’s under the arm of a young gang member, you think Lennys his name. 

“Well I’ll be damned! Hell yeah, It's good to see another badass woman around here, I was gettin’ tired of puttin’ all the boys in their place.” She laughs, pulling Lenny behind her and moving forward to hand you something. It's a five dollar bill, and you reach out to take it, confused. 

“We had a bet that someone was gonna knock him out soon as he got back. Entertaining us with a show like that? You deserve it. I’d do anything to see that bastard get put down by a lady.”

You smile up at her, nodding to the stranger as you place the bill in your pocket. 

“I'm Jenny by the way. Say, you're new as a shiny penny, figures these boys can't control themselves. Buncha assholes, especially Micah. He gets his fill of torture from all of us though, don't you worry miss." Jenny smiles at you, her blonde hair frames her freckled face beautifully. 

"You wanna come officially meet the girls? We can get you set up, get you a tent and some new clothes. Figure you wanna get away from Mr. Morgan over there for the day, he's a sour bastard." Jenny yells the last part in Arthur’s direction so that he can hear. 

“You’ll hear no argument from me on that account, ma'am.” Arthur quips, dropping Micah into the woods,

You eye Lenny and Jenny, a little unsure. It's hard for you to trust people, especially other outlaws but they seem kind enough. You turn your neck around to see Arthur, the only one you've really interacted with besides the two men you knocked out, and then you look back to Lenny and Jenny. They're both young and bright eyed, hopeful. It's a change you're grateful for, albeit not used to. What could be the harm?

"Alright then, the girls…" You whisper nervously. You've seen a few other women walking through the camp in the past four days, and they've eyed you with curiosity but none made a move to interact with you. You'll never show it but you're a bit nervous. You keep to yourself for the most part. You've had to because you have no one else. But that's changing. 

You follow the two past a few tents, and to a wagon with a few boxes sitting around to be used as chairs. Wolf pelts and blankets are stacked into a makeshift bed on the ground under a hanging canvas. As you take in the little details of the camp, you don't miss the way Jenny and Lenny's hands intertwine, and you smile for it. It's apparent that someone has been through a lot of effort to make the camp homey. Fluffy pelts line the seats and chairs, beautifully decorated animal skulls top some of the tents and each person’s designated area is filled with their personal preferences and belongings. Pictures and books line the little tables and crates around the place and boxes of beer and whiskey as well. It really is a home. 

There's a wagon with canvas material making a little lean to, and under it sit three girls. The first one to notice you has short blonde hair and a contagious smile. There's wonder in her eyes, and optimism. 

"Well hi! We was wonderin' when we'd get to meet you, we could barely hold back from goin' over there but we didn't wanna push ya! Say, you’ve been here just four days and you’ve already knocked down the two biggest bastards here. First Bill and now Micah? I like you already!" The blonde haired girl says before adding, "Oh, I'm Karen by the way. And this is Marybeth and Tilly.” She adds, pointing towards the other girls who smile and wave coyly. The girl furthest from you with dark colored skin and braided hair that collects into a low bun, Tilly, speaks up.

“Don’t be shy, we don’t bite. Well Karen does, but only when Ms. Grimshaw comes around. Doesn’t seem like you’ll be dealing much with her though. You gonna run with the men like Jenny here?” Tilly asks, nodding towards Jenny. You notice the contrast in their attire. Tilly, Marybeth and Karen are wearing dresses, apparently you and Jenny are the only two women who work out of camp. You haven't thought much about what your role will be in the camp though.

“Uh, yeah I guess I will be. I haven’t thought about it much though, just gettin’ here and all…And I’m only stayin’ till I'm back on my feet, so I’ll do whatever needs done till I get enough money to head somewhere else.” You mumble, looking down to your raggedy clothes. The girls grow a little quiet, sensing your dilemma before Jenny speaks up. 

“Well for now, you’re stuck with us! C’mon, we’ll get you some new clothes and have Ms. Grimshaw set you up a tent. I assume you’ll want a tent by Arthur, y’know with him bringing you in and all.”

— —

By nightfall you have three new pairs of jeans, two black and one blue, four new shirts, dark green, white, black and red, and a brand new pair of boots. They’ve accommodated you well, and you try not to think about your growing debt to the gang. 

Your tent is nicer than anything you’ve had for a long while. It's a white canvas ‘A frame’ tent with a nice sized cot, a wardrobe and a nightstand. The girls have given you some blankets and items to decorate around the place and it looks good, it’s rather cozy. Currently you sit cross legged on the cot, writing in your journal. The soft glow of candlelight alongside the campfires outside provide enough light for you to write without straining your eyes. It's a beautiful night, and owls hoot as warm wind blows across the Great Plains, it's a perfect moment. 

It’s the fourth day I've been here, but today was different. I met Jenny, and she introduced me to a few others. She’s a lot like me. Jenny doesn’t follow the rules, she makes her own way. I admire her for that. And Arthur? Well, I haven't  seen much of him. He’s been working on some big job with Dutch, and they’re keeping it real quiet. Oh, and he journals too, he picked one up in town today. Never thought a man such as himself would take to journaling. There’s a heart in there somewhere, deep down as it may be. I guess he’s like me in that way…

You startle at the sound of a knock against the beam of your tent. You jump a little, reaching down to your holster before you realize it’s only Arthur. 

“Shit, sorry. You scared the hell outta me. Ain’t used to livin’ with other people.” You laugh, folding your journal shut and tucking your pen into the book’s spine. Arthur is leaning against the tent beam with two bowls in hand, it looks like he’s washed up, probably in the lake or the river, but he's wearing a clean black stand collar shirt and a new pair of jeans. His wet hair drips a little, and the smell of soap travels to your nose.

“You’ll get used to it. Here, I brought ya some dysentery.” Arthur jokes, holding out a bowl of Pearson’s stew to you. You take it, grateful for it even though it tastes awful. 

“Thanks. Here, come sit, keep me company.” You scooch to the other side of your cot, once again sitting cross legged. 

“Well I ain’t no good company miss, I can promise you that, but sure.” 

Arthur sits down on the cot, and it dips under his weight. He watches you out of the corner of his eye for a moment, then glances at your book while you both eat. 

“So what were you writin’ in that book a’ yours?” Arthur asks, nodding towards your leather journal.  

You crack a smile, prodding at the mushy soup with your spoon. 

“You really wanna know? I'll show you mine, but you gotta show me what's in yours.” You offer with a raised eyebrow. Arthur’s cheeks glow a little red and he scratches at the back of his neck.

“Well I just got it today, and I ain’t put much in it yet.” Arthur says a little awkwardly. You take note of his embarrassment, and make a mental note to peek the next time he has it out.

“So how's it been so far? The camp I mean. Everyone treatin’ you well? I'm sure you’ll give ‘em hell if they don’t.” Arthur asks, looking to you, before bringing the metal bowl up to his lips and drinking down the broth left over in the bowl. You can’t help the smile that brightens up your features while you nod. 

“It’s been good. Jenny’s real nice, I like her a lot. All the girls are kind too. I ain’t talked to much of anyone else, well besides Micah, is he alright by the way?” You ask, hoping you didn’t kill him. You don’t really care if the bastard is dead or not, but killing him on your fourth day in the gang would not help your chances of getting along with Dutch. 

“I think he left for a while, didn’t wanna come back and be the camp idiot for gettin’ beat up by a little lady-” He starts before you interject. 

“I ain’t a little lady.” You bite. Arthur chuckles, putting his hands up in mock surrender. He disagrees, you are a little lady, but he also wants to keep his head. 

“Whatever you say, miss. I'm partial to keepin’ your fists far away from this old mug,'' Arthur's smile falters for a moment, and he looks over to you with sincerity, “but I'm glad to hear you’re settlin’ in alright.”

You nod, unsure of how to respond as you extend your arm to place the empty stew bowl on your nightstand. Arthur takes it out of your hand instead, standing up and stacking your dishes on top of his own. 

“Well I’ll leave you to it, I don’t wanna take up anymore of your time,” He tips his head to you, “Goodnight miss.”

“G’night Arthur.” You watch his back as he leaves your tent and returns your dishes back to Pearson’s table. 

You think of him as you dress down and tuck yourself into bed. It’s been a long time since you’ve enjoyed someone’s company. He intrigues you. There's so many layers to Arthur Morgan, and you find yourself wanting to peel them back and discover the man at heart. You toss and turn in your bed, angrily fluffing your pillow and tearing your blankets off of your bare legs just to pull them back on again. Despite the new bed, and the tent, you find yourself  longing for the freedom of the grass, you miss the stars. 

With a sigh, you reach down onto the grass below your bed and grab your boots. You swing your legs over the edge and pull them on, not bothering to dress yourself half decent. The shirt you’re wearing is a man’s, it's huge on you, but Jenny figured it would make a good night shirt. The white shirt swallows your figure as you step out of your tent and into the night. Everyone has gone to bed already as you tiptoe to the outskirts of camp. There's a dark forest at the edge, and maybe it's your exhaustion, but you find it enticing. You walk through the grass, wishing that you could feel it on your feet. It’s only been four days, but dammit, you miss the freedom. Solitude can be a beautiful thing, you’ve found out. And even though you’re glad to have been saved by the gang, parts of you ache to return to the wilderness. 

You slip your cowboy boots off, abandoning them on the ground between you and Arthur’s tent. They slump to the ground, spurs clicking as they hit the floor, and you step into the trees.

You pick wildflowers, humming and singing to yourself as you pluck their stems from the earth and add them to your collection. The breeze is warm and it flutters through your hair. A few times you feel eyes on you, but you dismiss them as animals lurking in the night. Some find the woods as eerie and unknown, but they’ve always been your home. You make a little bouquet of wildflowers, they're all different colors and sizes, and you hold them up to your nose and inhale that deep, specific scent. Lastly, you lay back on the grass, holding the flowers in your hands and look up to the stars. 

“A coach and six white horses,”

You twirl a poppy between your fingers, bringing it up to your nose before you continue singing,

“Blacks and bays, dapples, and grays,”

 You bring your knees up, crossing your legs as your hair splays out in the grass.

“All the pretty little horses…”

You’ve always been on your own, and this will be hard. Acclimating to a new place, with new people, and handing your control over to a new leader, all of it has you nervous, uneasy. You’re not sure how long you’ll stay. A part of you, the part that led you into the forest, begs for your freedom back. And yet a new feeling piques your interest as well, and it scares you. You look up at the constellations, tracing the big dipper with your eyes and grounding yourself with the familiarity. This new pull… it’s dangerous. You’ve distanced yourself from others for a reason, and yet here you are, breaking all of your rules.

—

Arthur’s eyebrows draw together as he leans up on his elbows in his cot. He’s been unable to sleep tonight, too distracted with the Blackwater job, and with you to get some shut eye. He’s stirred up by some quiet click noises, followed by some shallow singing. The song reaches his ears and immediately he recognizes it. It's “All the Pretty Little Horses,” a lullaby his momma used to sing to him when he was a kid. There’s some emotion there that he pushes down, sitting up to peek out of the open tent. 

And there you are. 

Arthur's smile is bittersweet as he watches you, laying in the grass in nothing but a goddamn shirt. Because of course you're the type to pick flowers, barefoot in the dead of night. Of course you’re the type to sing to the stars. He chuckles to himself, and doesn’t even think about it as he grabs his empty journal that he’d bought in the morning. He rests the leather book against his knee, leaning over to grab his pencil off his nightstand. As he does so, his eyes collide with the framed picture of Mary. Arthur sighs, gently grabbing the corner of the frame and tipping it so the picture lays face down. 

“Long time ago now…” Arthur whispers, lingering over the photo for a moment before grabbing his pencil. 

He doesn’t think, he just draws, starting with your legs that are crossed over each other, your torso and the flowers in your hand, and then your face and hair as you look up to the stars. He hums along lowly with your singing as he finishes up his sketch. There’s an incredible amount of detail to the picture, and he tries not to think about why that is as he adds a note to his sketch. 

She’s a lot like the stars in a way, I’ve realized. A force, fiery and burning as a flame, not to be reckoned with. She’s got no ties, she’s on her own. And yet she’s kind, singing and picking flowers in the middle of the damn night. She's something else, that woman. 

[the-witty-pen-name]

Deadbeat Pt. 1

Lee Bodecker x F!Reader

18+ ONLY

Warnings: age gap (reader is 21), smut/masturbation (implied/mild), cursing, abandonment, infatuation, alcohol, cheating, violence?, mild housewife kink? 

Word Count: 4.3k

Summary: You work at the bar at the edge of town, the Sheriff is going through a divorce and needs to rent a room. 

A/N: I’m terrible at writing summaries and I’m so sorry about that! I don’t think I would consider this a dark!fic, but it does cover a lot of themes, and topics that are darker than I usually write about- but I think that comes with the territory of writing about Lee Bodecker. I’ll make sure to update the warnings for each chapter and do not read if you are underage. I also ignored canon for this one.

There are no tags on this one, because no one has specifically asked to be tagged on smut fics and I don’t want to make anyone uncomfortable!

I hope you all enjoy!

Tags and Requests are OPEN

“Get out of here Lee,” you spat, pointing to the door he just walked into the bar from. “You swore to Janie you wouldn’t touch a drop.” 

“C’mon (y/n),” he said sitting at the bar anyways, a smug grin on his face, making you scoff. 

“I ain’t having anything to do with you breaking your promise to that lovely woman,” you say confirming your point. You wipe your hands on the towel that was hanging from your apron. 

“Jack and coke?” He asks, looking at you with eyes that would be endearingly puppy dog if it weren’t Lee Bodecker. You shook your head. 

“A coke it is,” you say and he gives up trying for now. He regrets telling you on his last visit he’d be swearing off drinking cause Janie finally threatened to throw him out. 

You slide a glass bottle of Coca-Cola down the length of the bar to Lee and he grinds his teeth slightly. The sugar was always his temporary fix. You also sent down his way a small bowl of roasted peanuts, feeling bad for the mess of a man. 

“She’s gonna leave me anyways,” he grumbles and you shake your head, picking up on his attempts to illicit sympathy to coax you into giving him a drop of anything. 

“Stop giving her a reason to Lee,” you point out, gesturing with your hands to emphasize that he was in the same small bar on the edge of town he always wandered into on weeknights. He’d tell Janie he was on duty but he’d really be down in this little box of a building getting drunk as a stunk. 

“She’s the one who gone and cheated,” Lee said in an angry tone, not towards you, just at his situation. “That Miller fellow living a few miles down from me. I see his truck parked outside my house plenty of times to know he’s not just being neighborly.” 

“I’m sorry Lee,” you say with a genuine tone of sympathy. You felt for him and his pain. You knew the stress of the job he led and the pain of knowing the love of your life don’t love you. 

“She’s going to leave me,” he says, staring intently at the condensation on the bottle in front of him. “I’d been trying so hard for her and our marriage and she’s two timing with the neighbor when I’m out working.” 

“And the thing is I don’t even care if she cheated,” Lee continued, “I’d look the other way if I knew she’d be staying with me. But it’s cause I know she don’t love me anymore. That’s what’s hurting me most.” 

“Maybe y’all can work through this-“ 

“This was inevitable,” he says, cutting you off. You don’t point it out, cause he’s clearly distressed but normally you’d have no problem saying to Lee ‘Fuck you, let me finish Sheriff.’ 

“Do you got somebody?” Lee asks you. The question takes you back cause it wasn’t like the Sheriff to ask your about anything personal. He would come in, and you’d shoot the shit, exchange small talk, maybe some harmless flirting for a larger tip, but that was the extent of it. 

“No, not anymore,” you say, having recently broke things off with your boyfriend. “I was seeing Arvin Russell for a couple months, but we just broke it off.” 

“You’re too good for him anyways,” the sheriff scoffed at the mention of the Russell boy and took another swing from his bottle of pop. “How old are you anyways, sweetheart?” 

“Twenty-one,” you respond, not thinking too much about the nickname. He had a habit of frequently using names like that when he talked to the women in this town. You think it started out as a tactic to win re-election and then it just stuck. He nodded. 

“Yeah you two are around the same age,” he said, more so thinking out loud than it being a statement directed towards you. “Why’d you break it off?” 

“Beat up my brother,” you answered, “Granted, the little shit had it coming. Can’t blame Arvin after I heard how the asshole was bothering that sweet thing Lenora. But he just took it too far. Almost killed the kid. The boy saw red so I got myself out of the picture. You can’t be with a boy who does that to your kin.” 

Lee nodded understandingly. You didn’t interpret his actions or questions as genuine concern or interest in you, but that he was just asking you questions to distract from his marital woes. 

“I’d do so many things different if I could be your age again,” he chuckled in a self-deprecating tone. “I’d sure as hell love to turn back time and have myself go down a better path.” 

“It’s not just you, Sheriff,” you reply after collecting money another man sitting at the bar. You nod as a goodbye to the man, and then curse under your breath when he doesn’t tip you. “Asshole,” you mumble, tossing the few pennies into the tip jar. You walk back over to the sheriff and prop your elbows on the bar. “I’m sure everyone is this town wishes the same thing,” you say, trying to make him feel better. 

“I’d love to just be your age again,” he says with a sigh, and then pops a small handful of the peanuts in his mouth. “Young, got your whole life ahead of you.” 

“I’m not sure working in a place like this is setting me up for great things, Sheriff,” you chuckle moving to wipe the bar in the area where that other customer left. “A woman working as a bartender is equivalent to just being a whore according to the eyes of the Lord... at least in this town,” you laugh, using the towel from your apron to wipe the rings left behind on the countertop from the glasses. 

“Arvin didn’t think so,” Lee countered, trying to make you feel a little better about your position. “I don’t think so. Hell, people in this town are so uptight about things that aren’t their business. You’re young, you need a job and you have one. It’s that simple.” 

“I wish more people in this town thought that way,” you reply with a smile. “That new preacher last Sunday-“ 

“Don’t listen to that asshole,” the Sheriff scoffed, and chuckled when your eyes widened at his derogatory words towards the preacher. “He’s a showboating son of a bitch and he’s as phony as they come.” 

“Those ruffled shirts are the most pretentious thing I ever seen,” you say, letting out a big laugh thinking about when he is giving a sermon in what looks like tacky prom attire. 

“Pay him no mind,” Lee said, bringing the bottle to his grinning lips as he looked at you. “You’re a better person than he is.” 

“I appreciate the sentiment,” you chuckle. 

“Have a goodnight hunny,” another customer at the bar says dropping cash on the table as they leave. “Goodnight Sheriff,” the older man tips his hat and then walks out. 

“Have a goodnight Marvin,” you call after him, “Give my love to Loretta!” You clear the empty glass and drop the cash off in the register. 

While you’re moving around, Lee takes a moment to actually look at you. Any man with eyes knew you were pretty, but he ain’t never noticed before just how attractive you were. His eyes lingered for a moment at how the canvas waist apron extenuated your figure. He couldn’t believe this stunning young thing was stuck in a place like this with a dead end job talking to a deadbeat like him. 

“How long you staying for Sheriff?” You ask suddenly, pulling him out of his trance. 

“Uh, not sure,” he says, looking up at the dingy Luger Beer clock that hung on the wall. “Why sugar?” 

“Seeing as though your sober I was hoping I could trouble you for a ride home?” You ask shyly. 

“Of course,” he said without hesitation. “No trouble at all honey.”

“Thank you, Lee,” you say with a smile, making his heart skip a beat. 

He’d talk to you most weeknights and never had this feeling. Maybe he had but he was too wrapped up in his own troubles to notice it. You were such a sweet girl, and he realized what an injustice it truly was for you to be stuck here. 

The thought crossed his mind very quickly about if he wasn’t married- even though he knew divorce was coming around the corner any day now. If he had met you at a different time in his life if it would’ve been better. Instead of meeting you as an overweight, deadbeat of a sheriff which a drinking problem- he’d met you when he was fresh out of school, same age you are now. You all coulda fallen in love, started a family, and that would’ve been enough to keep him from taking up drinking in the first place. 

He knew from the beginning Janie ain’t ever loved him. Hell, he’s not sure if he ever loved her thinking back on the whole relationship. Lustful, without any sort of promise behind it and they both were users. They used each other. He knew he treated her poorly as poorly as she treated him. He definitely had loved her, that much he knew was true, but now she’s cheating- something Lee never thought of doing at all no matter how many fights they had until the early morning hours.  

As you maneuvered around behind the bar, locking up the liquor and wiping down the machines getting ready to lock up for the night, his mind played little tricks on him. The canvas apron was instead a pinafore, and the bar was his kitchen. He’d loved the sight, thinking about coming home to you instead of what was soon to just be an empty house. 

Hell, he wasn’t even sure if he’d even be the one to keep his house. The idea of finding a new house- buying one for you, and being able to start over sounded like a dream life. Hell, he’d run away from this town right now if you said the word. He’s sure he could secure an election in another town, he had the connections to make it happen. 

“I just got to lock up the office and I’ll be ready to go,” you say, untying your apron. He gulps and nods as confirmation. You disappear in the back room, cash drawer in your arms to lock away in the safe. He heads behind the bar to dispose of his empty bottle and the cardboard tray his peanuts were in. 

You come back, your peacoat buttoned and the sash tied around your waist in a bow you had made. You had a small handbag in one hand, and your work apron in the other. Suddenly, he was nervous and didn’t know how to carry himself around you. Undeniably, the Sheriff was developing a crush. He couldn’t shake the feeling. He wanted to ask you out on a proper date, but he knew with his age and reputation- it wouldn’t be fitting. He was moving way too fast in his own mind to keep up with. Just daydreams, he thought to himself, suppressing the thoughts of a future with you for now.

“Okay,” you said, giving the place one more once over to make sure it was all set. “That does it.”

“After you,” he said, holding the door open for you. You giggled, and once you both were outside, you used your key to lock the front door. He held the door open for you to take the passenger seat in the cruiser. As you buckled your seatbelt, he walked over to the driver’s side and then slide into his seat.

You were a little nervous. You weren’t sure why. This wasn’t the first time you’d asked for a ride home. Usually, it’s never this late. When you close, you usually walk home alone. You definitely didn’t live that far, but again that was more dangerous than getting a ride home.

You realized that you were worried about nothing. You thought maybe some would accuse you of something scandalous, getting a ride home from a man so late. However, this was the Sheriff and the streets didn’t have another car on it at all. The town knew where you worked and if anyone were to see you, they’d know you were closing shift and you asked for a ride to avoid walking home this late alone.

“Thank you again,” you said, starting up a conversation as the sheriff was backing out of the tiny lot that was next to the bar.

“Oh, don’t mention it, hun,” he said, “It’s my job to make sure you get home safe. Your house is the white one at the end of Birch?”

“The very one,” you say, looking out the window. There aren’t any street lights, and the only light for miles is coming from the headlights of the cruiser. You don’t catch Lee stealing glances at you as he starts moving forward.

“How’s your ma doing?” He asks, making conversation.

“Oh, she left,” you said nonchalantly, and it makes Lee’s eyebrow raise in confusion.

“Wait. What?” He asks looking over at you for a second before turning his eyes back to the road.

“Oh, I thought you would’ve heard,” you say softly, your façade of indifference torn down. “She left us about a month ago. Met a man from Columbus and moved in with him. The whole town was talking about it for weeks.”

“So, is it just you and Tommy now?” he asks, wondering what kind of a mother leaves her girl to take care of her high school aged brother on what she makes at the bar.

“Oh, he went with her,” you explain, “House is all mine. After the whole thing with Arvin, she decided to pull him out of school and he goes to school in Columbus now. She wasn’t gonna bring him but after that, she changed her mind.”

“They just left you?”

“I chose to stay.”

“No offense but why would the hell would you chose to do that?” he jokes, making you laugh a little.

“It’s all paid off, and my grandpa left it to me and not her anyways,” you explain. “House has been in my name for three years now. And if we sold the house, she’d just piss the money away. Besides, would you move back in your mother now, Sheriff?”

“No, I can’t say I would want to,” he chuckles.

“So, I’m just supporting myself and that ain’t too bad,” you shrug.

“Sounds lonely,” he comments and you nod in agreement.

“It can be,” you admit, as he turns down your street.

“You ain’t worried living alone?” He asks.

“You tell me, Sheriff,” you joke, “If I got something to worry about it sounds like you’re not doing your job.”

“Ouch,” he says and holds a hand clutching his hand to his heart dramatically. It made you laugh, and it made him smile that he made you laugh. God, he loved your laugh.

“Thank you again, Lee,” you say sincerely, quickly kissing his cheek when he parks in front of your house. The gesture takes him back, and he’s relieved you can’t see how red his face is. He’s almost angry at how flustered you make him and you have no idea. “Have a goodnight,” you say.

“Goodnight, (Y/N),” he says, a little shakily. You get out of the car, and he watches you walk up to the porch, your hips swaying naturally, and he bites his lip. He groans, but at his disappointment in himself for staring again. You disappear behind the front door and he hits his palm on the steering wheel, trying to shake whatever feeling this was.

He reluctantly drove home, not wanting to have to talk or see Janie. He knew he was just heading home to a fight for being out so late, even though he knows she takes full advantage having fucking Miller over. His jaw is locked, angry about a fight he hasn’t even had with her yet. His cheek still tingles from your touch, and he thinks about if he should just leave Janie. He could just leave, get an apartment nearby or something. He doesn’t even care if she gets the damn house. He’s bracing himself for another night of fighting as he pulls into his own driveway and heading up to his own house.

He fumbles with his keys in the dark. He thinks he had the right one, but it doesn’t work. He tries another that is the same shape, still doesn’t work. He intakes a sharp breath and tries the first key again- he’s positive that’s his house key. “Fucking Christ,” he mutters when the key won’t even go into the lock. “Janie!” he shouts, pounding on the front door. She changed the locks.

“Fuck,” he exclaims, stomping down the front steps and walking around to the back door. He tries his keys again with no luck. He pounds into the door hard and incredibly loud. He knows she’s there, upstairs in their bed, ignoring his knocks. He tries the kitchen window, but it’s locked. Every window on the first floor is fucking locked. He curses again and heads back to his cruiser. He slams the door shut and his grip on the wheel is turning his knuckles white. Does she expect him to sleep in his car in the driveway?

He doesn’t even think about where he’s going to go, but he knows damn sure he’s not going to give her the satisfaction of sleeping outside of his house in his cop car for the whole town to talk about. He just pulls out of his driveway and starts driving. He isn’t even thinking about what route he’s driving, it’s like he’s driving on autopilot while he screams out every curse word in existence.

By the time he calms down, he realizes he’s driving down Birch again. His muscles in his body tense, and he thinks back to your conversation when he dropped you off. Your mother and brother were gone, meaning you have two spare bedrooms. He knows he shouldn’t but the temptation is way too overwhelming. He has nowhere else to go. If someone saw his car… well, he’d worry about that tomorrow. Your house is two miles away from your nearest neighbor, settled back at the end of a long dirt road. Someone knowing he was there was unlikely. He had people who could save your name. It was all innocent. Janie kicked him out and he knew you had an extra room. Hell, he’d rent a room from you- Wait. That’s perfect. That solved all of his problems and yours. He knows you were downplaying how hard it must be to keep up with the house and by him paying rent, you could take care of the house. It was a win-win.

He felt so confident now and he was so proud of himself for devising this plan. He parked his car out front and then walked up to your front door, knocking gently. The sound of the knock made him now incredibly nervous. He didn’t want to scare you or for you to think he was trying to take advantage. Granted, there would be a lot more than financial benefits to being able to live with you, which he knew were selfish, but the idea of being able to see you everyday was overwhelming. It was the closest thing to the dream he was wrapped up in back at the bar. He could live out his little pretend domestic bliss, and you’d get the money you need for the house. He knew he was insane and this was probably wildly inappropriate, but he knew you were too kind to turn him away.

You opened the door with a small yawn, a yellow bathrobe secured over your nightgown fully, to keep yourself decent when you answered the door. You were going to call the Sheriff when you heard the rapping at your door so late and ignore the knocks, but looking out the window of your bedroom you saw it was Lee’s cruiser parked outside.

“Lee?” you ask quietly, sleepiness very evident on your mumbled voice.

“Janie kicked me out,” he said softly, “Changed the locks on me. Darling, I’m so sorry for intruding but I have no where else to go.”

“Come in,” you say sympathetically, the news waking you up quite a bit. “Lee, I’m so sorry. You can take my mom’s old room; it’s got an attached bathroom you can use too.”

 “Thank you (Y/N),” he says quietly. You close the door and secure the lock and the chain again as he looks around the house.

“Don’t worry about it,” you insist. “I can take you there. Follow me.”

You walk up the stairs, Lee following closely behind and he’s ashamed that he took the opportunity to just openly check you out again. At the top of the stairs there was a hallway lined with photographs in mismatched frames. You point to the door at the end of the hall.

“That’s the master,” you explain, “There’s a bathroom attached inside if you want to clean up or anything. There’re clothes in the dresser if you want pajamas- should be in the bottom drawer.”

“Okay, thank you,” he replies, looking down at you as you yawn again, and he notices how your hair is a little messy. The sight drives him wild.

“Anything in the kitchen is up for the taking to,” you offer.

“Look, (Y/N),” he says, “I know this isn’t the best time to be talking about this, but I really need a more permanent plan on where to go. I know it sounds crazy and out of the blue, but could I rent that room from you? Name your price. I figured… I really need a new place, and you could probably use another source of income to keep up with the house. Plus, it’s safer than living alone…”

“Um…,” you begin to speak, but you bit your lip, showing that you’re intently thinking about his offer. Everything he said was right. You needed the money, and he was right that living alone was dangerous in this town and living with the sheriff is the safest person there was in the whole town. People would talk, of course, but no one would deny that the circumstances were just ideal for the two of you and nothing more. You were an adult, a homeowner, and it was your business who you rented a room too. “Yeah, I think that makes sense for both of us,” you agree. “We’ll sort out the details tomorrow.”

“Of course,” he says with a smile.

“Alright, um,” you say crossing your arms around your chest awkwardly. “Goodnight, Lee.”

“Goodnight, (Y/N),” Lee responds as you head back into your own bedroom. He let’s out a heavy sigh and heads into your mom’s room- or rather his new room. He’d have to figure out how to get his stuff back from Janie tomorrow. He’d really just need his clothes and some other necessities. 

The room was fairly spacious. There was a closet and dresser. The closet still had some clothes of your mom’s left behind, and for the most part, the room looked fairly intact. It was like she up and left with just a few things. Lee shook his head, angry at how poorly you were treated by your mother. He pulls off his leather jacket, tossing it and his hat onto the bed. He opened up the bottom drawer of the dresser, and just like you said, it was filled with men’s clothing. He concluded they had to belong to the man your mom lived with now, more things just left behind.

He tosses a pair of plaid pajama bottoms and a white t-shirt onto the bed, and then he heads to the bathroom.

In the drawer beside the sink, he finds a new toothbrush still in its packaging, that he opens for himself and drops it in the white toothbrush holder on the counter. The towels are all clean and folded neatly on the shelf above the toilet. He finds a new soap under the sink as well, and decided he needed a shower to just wash off everything of tonight off in hopes he’ll feel better.

He strips of his uniform, folding it nicely knowing he’ll need to wear it all again tomorrow morning. He steps into the shower and turns on the water. The hot water just immediately helps him to loosen the muscles that had been so tense. He lets the warm water run down his face and back, just letting himself enjoy the feeling. He lathers up his body with soap and then it finally hits him that he was here, living with you, and then suddenly he’s hard.

“Fuck,” he mutters, resting his head against the shower wall, the running down his back. He was in so much trouble he realizes. As he beats himself off in the shower, his mind is clouded with thoughts of you. The way the apron at the bar looked around your hips, and the smell of your perfume when you leaned into him. The way your body looked as you paraded yourself around behind the bar. The way you have no problem talking back to him when he walks into the bar after saying he’s off the bottle the night before, just making want to shut you up with a rough kiss. The feeling of your lips on his cheek and he imagines your lips on his neck. He thinks about how your hair looked tousled when you just showed him to his room. He lets himself slip back into that same domestic daydream. You being his wife… married to you instead dealing with this goddamn divorce. The absolute sickening sweet domesticity making him groan, as he imagines his hand is yours. Why on earth did he think he’d be able to do this?

PART TWO

[ambria]

everytime // Sirius Black

Sweetener x Marauders

play ‘everytime’ by Ariana Grande <3

pairing: sirius black x reader

word count: 2.3k ✨

warnings: angst, fluff at the end, mentions of drinking, under-age drinking, partying, depression?, mentions of drugs and drug use, someone trying to take advantage on the drunk reader, crying? Let me know if I missed something.

This also might have a few time jumps

A/N: I wrote this in 1st person but I feel like I should make these in 3rd so that’s what I’ll start doing. But this is also my first time making a one-shot fic so cut me some slack if it’s trash. But I hope you enjoy!

I get tired of your no-shows

Taking in the warmth through my fingers I look at the door once more before glancing at the clock.

He’s late. Again

I take a deep breath to cool down my nerves and sigh. I sip the rest of my butterbeer before looking at the entrance once more and packing my stuff and walking out. I look around once more before giving up and walking back to the castle.

You get tired of my control

As I’m walking back I start to get more irritated by the step. This isn’t the first time he’s done this. Always too busy to hang out because of him with his friends or too busy because of pranks. The missed dates and the interrupted times. All for his friends. I’m clearly not a priority in his life and that has to change or I’m not going to be in it.

Walking through the castle I collect my thoughts on how I’m gonna approach this situation. But since I’m so pissed off, I’m gonna take an angry approach.

I walk up to the gryffindor common room and say the password before walking in.

As I stepped into the common room, lo and behold, the marauders spread on the couches talking loudly and laughing. Seeing that made my blood boil. As I walk over I catch the attention of the brunet,

“Y/N!!!!! Hey!!!” The Potter boy called out. I gave a weak smile. Which caught the attention of my boyfriend.

“Hey, babe.” He smiled at me. I internally roll my eyes and keep an emotionless face on. At this point all the attention from the boys is on me.

“Hey. Can we talk?” In the corner of my eye I can see Remus and James glance at each other and look worriedly at Sirius. Yeah. They know better.

“Uhh. Sure. About what?” This time I rolled my eyes. I ignore his question and grab his hand before dragging him up to his dorm.

We enter and I close the door before leaning on it. He goes and sits on the foot on his bed.

“What do you want to talk about? We were in the middle of planning.” Bouncing his knee, I can tell he’s getting impatient and just wants this to hurry up and be done with this. I get even more annoyed at this.

“What do you want to talk about? We were in the middle of planning.”- I mocked him- “This is exactly what I’m talking about! You’re always busy! Doing this and doing that!” I start to raise my voice. My face starts to heat up due to my anger. I try to calm down but it doesn’t seem to be working.

He opens his mouth to say something but I cut him off,

“Where were you today?! I was waiting for you! For our date that YOU literally planned!” His eyes widened with realization and looked at me with a guilty face. But I’m too pissed off to care.

My eyes start to water with tears of frustration but I’m nowhere near done,

“Everytime I want to hang out you’re always busy with your friends and pranks! You never have time for me anymore!” At this point tears are streaming down my face and Sirius doesn’t look that far behind.

“This is the third date you missed! Because you forgot! I’m done with being second best. Im probably not even that!” He has his head down, hands on his knees.

“I—I-I” he stutters out what I think is going to be some wack apology. But I’m done. I can’t do it anymore.

“No. I’m done.” As soon as I said those words his head shot up fast and looked at me with wide eyes.

“No-” he goes to protest but I cut him off again.

“No I can’t do this. Not anymore. This has gone on for too long. You need to fix your priorities. I hope you don’t treat another girl like this. I’m breaking up with you, Sirius.” I don’t wait for a reply and I simply walk out of the door and walk back down to the common room, wiping my tears.

They keep telling me to let go

As I make it to the common room I notice the boys are still there. They see me and go to talk but a loud sound cuts them off. Items getting thrown around, is what I guessed it to be.

We all freeze and guilt washes over me. It’s Sirius.

But I don’t really let go when I say so

I turn my head to the staircase with a sad expression before brushing it off.

I had to. I deserve better. I thought to myself.

I look over to the boys to see that they have worried but knowing expressions on their faces. I gave them weak smiles and walked away to my dorm.

I keep giving people blank stares

Drama travels fast around here at Hogwarts. So it wasn’t long until word got out that infamous Sirius Black was single again and back on the market.

My friends are starting to get worried about me because of my reaction to the breakup, or lack thereof. I know how to keep my emotions buried. I know it’s an unhealthy coping mechanism but I refuse to be sad over a boy who treated me like shit.

I’m so different when your not there

What they don’t know is that I cry myself to sleep. Everyday. I close my curtains around my bed and put a silencing spell around it and sob. For hours. It’s pretty sad.

But I keep my neutral face on for everyone else. From what I know Sirius isn’t doing much better. He’s just more open about his broken heart. Lily tells me he mopes around and doesn’t speak much anymore. Let alone prank anyone.

Everytime she tells me about him being sad it makes me want to run out the room and find him to cuddle with him and kiss him and apologize profusely for the break up.

But I remind myself that it’s not my fault and that I deserve better.

It’s like something out of Shakespeare

Because I’m really not here when you’re not there

I tried to fight our energy

It's been three months since the break up and I have developed some pretty bad habits.

I’ve secretly been drinking to numb the pain. I know it’s not healthy but I can’t seem to stop.

Once all my roommates are sleeping I drink by myself on my bed. It helped in the beginning but now I can’t stop.

I’ve perfected my fake smile so no one could tell the difference. Well one person did, but I was unaware.

I’m in a deep depression and I have no one to talk to. None of my friends know, I can’t tell them. They won’t understand.

Meanwhile,

“Pads, you can’t keep moping around. She’s moved on, you should too.”

“No, I can’t. I still love her.” Sirius said but due to him being face first on his pillow it came out muffled.

“Well then you’re going to have to work your way to get her back. Show her you’ve changed.” The werewolf suggested to his friend.

“Really?” He picks his head up to face his friends, red and puffy eyes with a hopeful expression.

They nod.

But everytime I think I’m free

As the weeks pass I start to receive notes and letters with little flowers attached to them. I know they are from Sirius but I can’t seem to open them and read. It’s too hard and I’m not ready yet.

You get high and call on the regular

Once I reach my empty dorm I run to my trunk and collect all the saved letters. I place them on my bed and chuck my shoes off before climbing on my bed while getting comfortable.

I sort the letter from how I received them. I slowly open the first one,

Dear y/n,

Looking at us now I regret a lot of things.

I don’t blame you for not seeing us together in the future.

I was horrible, but for you I am willing to change. No. I will change.

You deserve so much better and if you let me I could be that person.

But I have to fix myself in order for that to happen.

If you're willing I would love to have another chance.

forever yours,

Sirius

As I finish reading my eyes are cloudy with tears. I continue to read all of the letters.

And by the end of it I’m sobbing.

I get weak and fall like a teenager

I knew it was a bad idea to read those letters. Because after that I am ready to run back into his arms and express my love. But I can’t until I know that he’s changed.

I deserve better. I keep telling myself that.

Why, oh why does God keep bringing me back to you?

Everytime I see him now I try to avoid him. Everytime he’s in a room, I leave. Everytime class is over I run out before he gets the chance to talk to me.

Because I know if I take one look into his beautiful stormy gray eyes I will fall all over again. And that can’t happen.

I deserve better.

I get drunk, pretend that I’m over it

It’s Friday night and today is the big Gryffindor party. Being stressed with liquor and drugs is not a good combo but I haven’t been safe these past couple of months.

I’m in my dorm room getting ready. I decide on a natural glam look with a bold red lip and a black satin body con dress with some black heels.

As I’m walking down the stairs, I can hear the music blasting and the red led lights are turned on. I part from my friends and immediately head to the liquor table. As I’m walking I fail to notice the pair of eyes following my every move.

I take a plastic red cup and I fill it up with the hardest liquor I could find on the table. After downing the cup I refill it and make my way over to my friends who are currently in the corner smoking what the muggles call ‘weed’. It’s strong but it helps me relax. Who knew muggle were so helpful.

Self-destruct, show up like an idiot

About an hour into the party everyone was either high, drunk or both. Which I was. Again me with my unhealthy coping mechanisms.

I ended up dancing in the middle of the room with a huge group of people. I feel eyes on me but I’m too drunk to care at the moment.

As I’m dancing I feel someone come up behind me and grab my hips. I turn around to see a random 7th year boy. He begins to trail his hands on my body.

He leans down to whisper in my ear,

“How about we go to my down, sweetheart?” His hot breath makes a shiver run down my spine, and not in a good way.

I began to shake my head while saying no but he clearly didn’t get the message because he gripped my wrists and tried to pull me with him. But because I was too drunk I couldn’t defend myself properly.

As I continue to struggle I see a person step in front of me, glaring at the boy,

“I suggest you let her go. Now.” I heard a familiar voice, I couldn’t tell who from my drunken state. Once the person turned around a smile involuntarily appeared on my face,

“Siri! Hi!” I giggled as he guided me away from everyone.

“Hi. Let’s get you somewhere safe.” He picks me up bridal style and starts to carry me up to the boys dorms and to his room.

I yawned and cuddled up into his chest,

“I’m still mad at you.” I mumbled. He set me down on his bed and goes to his trunk to take out some clothes,

“I know.” He said, sadly. As he’s helping me I go on a mini rant,

“You know you treated me horrible. I just wanted my boyfriend but you never made time for me. You missed dates, you cancelled on me a lot. And whenever we had time together alone you had to leave early. I just wanted you to give me your love and attention. But I was never a priority. I miss you so much, Siri.” After he tucks me into his bed he kisses my forehead and responds,

“I miss you too, baby.” He goes to walk away but I grab his hand. Which makes him turn around and give me a questioning look,

“Please stay.” I pout. He smiles and climbs into the bed with me. I turn to look at him,

“Cuddles?” I ask him with puppy eyes.

“Cuddles.” I snuggle up next to him with my head on his chest and my legs bunched up with his. He puts his chin on top of my head and begins to play with my hair.

“You know, I still love you. And I’m willing to give you a second chance, Siri.” I can’t see him but I can tell he has a huge grin on his face.

“I love you too, pup. Go to sleep. We’ll talk in the morning.” I start to drift off but before I do fully I feel him kiss my forehead again and whisper ‘I love you’ one last time before the darkness engulfed me.

Why, oh why does God keep bringing me back to you?

****

Taglist: @blackpinkdolan

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[slowpoke-fics]

The Good Doctor - Part Two

Fandom: TWD

Pairing: Negan x Reader; platonic Rick x Reader; platonic Daryl x Reader

Summary: you leave Alexandria and arrive at Sanctuary

Warnings: touch of self deprecation, everything is off cannon, read at your own risk

A/N: I'm having fun with this one, hard to stay cannon but I tried as best I could

The Good Doctor Part One!!

Negan scoffed, unbelievable that you’d demand that, he’s gotta run his own group, “Are you fuckin’ joking sweetheart?” You laughed, packing up the supplies and giving the bag of supplies back to him, “No, I am not,” you pulled back and crossed your arms, “so how bad do you want me, Negan?”

Negan sighed, not wanting to leave you behind, having to decide if the supplies were worth giving you up. "Alright," Negan stood up, "that's what we fuckin' do then." Negan walked to the door, opening it for Amelia. "Amelia, doll, this is my good doctor friend, she's gonna show you how to do everything around here, while I go find Carl and that little Judith," he grabbed the Twix from the bag, "I get to take credit for this one though," waving the Twix around as he walked out the door.

About two hours or so after showing Amelia how you kept your charts, how everything was labeled and organized, how to make sense of when to give someone herbal tea you grow or actual medicine, Rick barges in. "What do you think you're doing Y/n? You can't go with him!" You scoffed, "Amelia has this covered, it'll be fine it's just a week." You moved around the clinic closer to Rick, "You can't tell me I can't do this when it means we keep next weeks supplies!" Rick shook his head, "Y/n, he will never allow that, he will get his due, what do you think you're doing?"

"Rick! He has always kept his word to me! He thought this through, brought supplies and a doctor with him! He wants this and I might be able to convince him to go easier on Alexandria!" You rubbed your face knowing that Rick would have a problem with this, "Y/n, he's not doing this out of the kindness of his heart, he wants something from you. I can't allow this." You laughed, with your full heart, "You're not allowing anything, I want this Rick, I have a chance to really change his mind about us and you want me to what? Say fuck you we don't need your antibiotics and slack? We're barely making it, so either get on board, or shut the fuck up." With that, Rick stormed out, Negan walking back up the sidewalk back to the clinic, shining his under-your-skin smile at Rick. Maybe that is what he wanted, to piss off Rick.

Negan walked back into the clinic, smiling brightly at you, "You about fuckin' ready sugar?" You nodded, "Amelia, you got any questions for me?" Amelia looked at you, at the charts and her notes, "No, I-I think I'm good." You smiled, "Okay, good," turning to Negan, "one more stop, gotta get some of my stuff and my books so I can study." Negan laughed, "Are you fuckin' joking?" You rolled your eyes, "If you have to ask, then no, I'm not joking." Pushing past Negan and down to your house you saw Daryl, perched on your porch.

"Ay, where do ya think you're goin'?" Daryl just looked at you waiting for an answer, "With Negan, going to go with him for the week, see if I can't trade some of my musty medical books for some new ones." Daryl looked at you with so much fear it broke your heart, "Don't worry, I'll be fine, Negan isn't going to take me to the rest of the saviors to just let me get hurt." Negan perked up at this, the good doctor defending him, "She's fuckin' right ya know, wouldn't ever let anything happen to our good doctor here." Daryl almost growled at Negan, you can't blame him for not liking the man, "Worried it's him that'll do all the hurting," Daryl whispered so only you could hear. "He wouldn't Daryl, it'll be okay, I'll be back in a week." With that, you marched into your house, collecting your toothbrush, an extra outfit or two and your books.

Coming out of your house, Rick, Daryl and Negan all stood on your porch. "You ready to get rollin'?" You smiled at Negan, hiding the fear of getting onto his bike. "Yeah," still smiling, "not like I have much to bring." You went down your steps and stopped when Daryl grabbed Negan by the shoulder, "Ya bring her back or ya die with me." Negan jerked back from him, "Boy don't ever fucking do that again," Negan descended the steps and paused, looking to Daryl, "I'll bring the good doctor home."

You crawled on Negan's bike, grabbing tightly to him, very nervous to ride with him. Negan smiled at you relying on him, it felt nice for you to need him, even if all you needed was to get to Sanctuary. As he rolled out of Alexandria he slid your hands around his waist, raising a blush to your cheeks, "Better to hold there, doll."

You couldn't help but skip a beat and grab a little tighter to Negan during every bump in the road, wouldn't it be something if you've made it this far and what takes you out is a fuckin' bike? You really felt as if Negan was enjoying this, you grabbing him a little tighter every time you got a little nervous. You still didn't really understand why he wanted you to come back with him, why he wanted it so much to lose out of Alexandria's supplies.

As he parked the bike he stepped off, smiling and holding out his hand, "We're here doll." You grabbed his hand, swinging your leg over the side of the bike, when you hit the ground you stumbled a bit, grabbing onto Negan and laughing, "Damn, maybe if I could stand." Negan chuckles at that, "Let me show you around, doll."

Following Negan he led you to the trading posts, where anything could be exchanged for just about anything. Then he showed you the cafeteria, more people than you'd seen in one place than you'd seen since it started. Then he led you up several flights of stairs, Jesus Christ, no wonder this man is so beautiful if this is his workout everyday. Nope, Y/n, this man is ruthless and you are here to fight for Alexandria.

He opened a door to what you thought was a commune it was so big, "This is where me n you are stayin' welcome to your home for the next week." You turned to him with wide eyes, "I'm staying here? With you?" Negan laughed, "Shit doll, just the best way I could keep my eyes on you." You shrugged and started to look around, "I'll sleep here," pointing to the couch, "this is where you live?" Negan again chuckled, "No, this is just where me n you are staying while you're here," moving past you to set his things down, "figured you'd like to be close to everything, maybe to the doc so you can learn." Maybe Negan had done something nice and actually just wanted to do something for you and this was the best way that he could do so. "Come on, I'll show you the fuckin' garden, you'll love it.

After showing you the entirety of Sanctuary, you finally got to go see this Doc he's been yapping about. "Doc," Negan started as he opened the door, "this is that fuckin' firecracker I thought you'd like to work with!" Carson smiled at you, happy he was able to teach someone again. "Ah yes! The doctor from Alexandria! I've been prepping for your arrival all day! I understand you're going on a run tomorrow, but we can work together the remaining time Negan doesn't have you tied up!" Carson seemed genuinely excited to work with you, but you knew nothing of going on a run with Negan tomorrow.

Whipping around to Negan, "A run tomorrow?" Negan scratched his beard and smiled at the you, "Dammit, Carson, hadn't really told her about that, see you later." Negan led you out of Carson's office and back up to your designated home for the week, "I was going to tell you," pulling out a bottle of liquor from the desk, "there's a place about forty miles from here I thought you'd like to help me ransack." You hummed in consideration as he poured two glasses, "I reckon we can go as long as we don't take the damn bike, not sure I'd last that long." Negan smirked, "Oh, baby, I could make you last that long." You laughed, a blush rushing to your cheeks and a desire to your core, "Not sure you've got it in ya man," you downed your drink and held the glass out for him to refill. "You could find out ya know," Negan winked at you, "we'll take the fuckin' truck, gotta have something to bring the supplies in."

That night you lay on the sofa, writing your entry for the day in your journal:

May 21st

I made it to sanctuary with Negan, it's actually a little unbelievable, still not sure what my purpose is, did he bring me here to learn from Carson? to be able to trade my books? to be able to help him on the run? what's the point? I'm no more useful here than at Alexandria, knot on a log, maybe he isn't so bad and I'm overthinking it, I know he read this journal, maybe he thinks he can fix me, sucks for him, I'm broken beyond repair

[thran-duils]

I Crave Annihilation (P.3)

Title: I Crave Annihilation (Part Three) Summary:  Fem!Reader x Mafia!Dark Tony Stark. Tony works for the reader’s very influential politician father moving guns and drugs. She starts flirting with him and he is returning the vibes. She moves into her own place out of her parent’s house and texts him to come save her from a house party. Smut ensues. Words: 3,069 Warnings (for the fic in entirety): Smut, HUGE age difference, angst, violence, infidelity, possessive behavior

Part Two || Part Four || Masterpost (mobile) || Fanfic masterpost

“He’s here,” your mother whispered in your ear as you rinsed the dishes from the counter.

You had gone immediately into the house instead of into the back yard, Gabriel following you inside. He had held out the food he had brought to her and she thanked him. The two of you got under her skin when you two got together at these things but she loved him deeply. He was one of your best friends still. He had walked off towards the liquor cabinet when your mum approached to whisper to you.

“I know,” you told her, not taking your eyes off the dishes.

“Have you seen him?”

“No. I came straight in here. Jackson went out there though. I’m sure Steve will be all too ready to point out to Tony who he is.”

Your mother looked at you worriedly, “Has Steve been bothering you?”

“No. I just know he’s keeping tabs.”

“’Keeping tabs’…” she muttered, shaking her head. “You cannot let him get back underneath your skin.”

“Mum, he’s always been under my skin. I feel I’ve just been trying to fill a void.” You noticed the way she was looking at you and you shrugged, “It’s why I don’t want to go out there. Because I’ll see him… And…”

She shook her head and said crossly, “I told you… I warned you.”

“Are you really going to blame me for feeling this way? You still ended up with dad.” She faltered and you said, “No, I put that together a long while ago. Dad is twelve years older than you!”

“That’s different.”

You reached forward and turned the water off, to stand up and face her fully. “That’s different? Then why did you bring it up that night when you found us?”

“He’s almost twenty years older than you!”

“And?”

“Don’t you love Jackson?”

“Of course I do!”

“Then why would you even entertain the idea?” she sounded exasperated.

“You and dad are more similar to me and him than you are giving me credit for.”

Your mum snapped, “No, I know that. You just have a chance with Jackson.”

“You seem perfectly fine,” you hissed back at her.

“Money softens the blow, Y/N. It doesn’t solve everything.”

“I’m sorry for you that you’ve been miserable for so long.”

“I’m not miserable.”

“You are sure sounding like it!”

“I just… Jackson is good. Jackson treats you like an equal! Yes, I’m happy with your father but I wish he would also treat me like I was his partner rather than just his wife. Jackson gives you that. Tony wouldn’t!”

You paused before asking, “Is that why you were gone all the time?”

“What?” she asked, giving you a shocked look.

“You were always gone. It was always just me and dad. Or me and the nanny.” She opened her mouth to say something but apparently she could not think of anything and she closed it again. You sighed, “It was always me and dad… you were always gone. On some trip. Just at a spa retreat. I never had you around until suddenly in my teens when you realized I had blossomed.”

“Because I had to protect you.” She sounded so self-righteous.

“And you did for years. From the sidelines. Since I was what, 14?” You straightened up seeing Gabriel was coming back from the other room and said quickly and quietly, “I’m going to steer clear of him as much as I can, mum. If that’s what you’re worried about. I do love Jackson.”

Gabriel said, “Mom, I found your favorite rum! Should we make daiquiris?”

Donning a perfect mask and pulling away from you, your mum said, “That sounds lovely, Gabriel.”

With a wink, Gabriel said, “That’s what I always try to be for you. You’re my favorite.”

“Suck up,” your mother teased, shooting another glance at you before walking away and following him to the blender. “There are strawberries in the fridge, love.”

<><><>

“Well, she’s here,” Steve said, before taking a long drag of his cigarette. “At least somewhere because Jacksons here.” He pointed in the general direction quick. Tony looked Jackson over and simpered. Steve smirked in return and said, “Yeah, that’s the competition.”

“He makes her happy though according to you which is pretty big competition,” Tony replied, bringing his own cigarette up to his lips and taking a long drag.

The two of them shut up as Bucky and Sam came back to the table. Bucky had been in prison with Tony as well as Thor and he had not had to confide to them about the relationship because Steve had been on the outside keeping an eye on Y/N for him. They fell back into conversation sans her for a while.

Then Y/N walked out with another guy. He drank her in slowly. She had aged, obviously. But she was still as gorgeous as ever. His eyes ran up her body, trailing over her short, high waisted shorts. He saw she was looking at him and she quickly looked away, turning her attention to the guy at her side again. Tony cocked his head, recognition coming on.

“Is that…” he said to Steve under his breath. Steve looked at Tony for an explanation and Tony said, “That guy from that bar. That one time.”

“Yep. Gabriel. They’ve been friends since college. You think Jackson is gonna be the problem to get her alone? No, it’s going to be Gabriel.” He stopped for a moment before chuckling and saying louder so Bucky and Sam could hear to not arouse suspicion about their whispering, “And Rebecca is already on them.”

“How do you mean?” Tony asked, watching Rebecca stop on a dime and turn back to stare them whispering between each other.

“They always get into trouble,” Steve explained. “One year, she asked Y/N to help her with the food and she was already too drunk to do it and she paid one of her friend’s to do it because her and Gabriel had already been day drinking. They took Molly another year. Gabriel fell off the table he was dancing on and rolled his ankle. Last year… they took some shrooms and disappeared for hours and Rebecca found them in the far back lying amongst the rocks, still high off their asses watching the stars.” He snorted seeing her point at the two of them threateningly. “Yet, she coddles the shit out of him and loves him to death. Look at them and their matching daiquiris.”

<><><>

He had sunglasses on but the way his head was pointed, you knew he was looking at you. Fuck. He had an undercut now, nice glasses, and his shirt unbuttoned, leaning back in the chair without a care. You made sure you did not linger too long on him before turning your eyes away. But you knew it had already been a couple seconds too long no matter how long it was because as soon as he had you in his sights, and he knew he had you, that was endgame.

Gabriel was there and tugged on your arm. He pulled you towards the covered area with the grills where your dad and Thor were cooking. He looked in his element, fresh out of prison and enjoying doing this again.

“I got some…” Gabriel caught your attention again. He gestured snorting and your eyebrows rose in response and he grinned. “When do you wanna?”

“I don’t know if we should though….” you said trailing off, shooting a quick look and finding Tony still watching you. You should be on your toes tonight… but maybe it would make it that much easier to just brush it off if something did happen…

“What? Come on! This is the perfect time! There’s a lot of people around and it’s not like—”

“What are you two whispering about?” your mum asked, startling the two of you. She saw you two jump too before looking at her and she leveled the two of you with a threatening glare. She was carrying a plate of cut vegetables in one hand, her drink in the other, obviously about to go put them out on one of the tables.

“Nothing, mum,” you and Gabriel said in unison.

“What?” you asked innocently when she was still silent after a couple moments.

“I don’t trust either of you. Not after last year.”

Right. The shrooms. And she had found the two of you lying between two of the rocks in the back part of the garden, giggling, half naked.

“I sincerely apologize for that. Still. Can I send you a third bouquet of orchids?” Gabriel said, giving her a curt bow, smiling sheepishly. He held up his drink at her in surrender.

Your mum’s mouth twitched ever so slightly, holding back a smile. She adored Gabriel but she did mean business. She did not want to babysit again this year. Her finger left her glass and she pointed between the two of you and said, “No funny business this year. Especially you, Y/N. Keep your head on straight.”

You held back a scowl at the comment. Gabriel looked confused for a moment and you said as she walked off, “She’s right. I should just stick to drinks.”

“Bitch, I—”

“I’ll do it with you next weekend, Promise! We should give her a break for one year.”

Gabriel groaned and took a long drink of his daiquiri. “Fine! I’ll go ask Jackson to share his bud. Buzzkill! Both of you!”

<><><>

In your old bedroom that you and Jackson were going to sleep in, you tore your shirt off and your swim suit top, tossing them carelessly on the bed. It was getting cold outside and you were ready to change into your pajamas and a sweatshirt. You heard the door open and close behind you as you reached for your pajama top. Without turning around, you said, “I thought you guys were going to stay in the hot tub for a little bit longer.”

“Your hair is different.”

Whipping around, holding your shirt up against your bare chest, you found Tony standing there, hands in his pockets. He was blocking your way to the door, looking confident as ever. Prison had only given him time to work out, as you could plainly see from his open shirt, and apparently had done nothing for his domineering personality. He was still bold as ever, showing up here in your room knowing you were changing when your husband was outside.

“Tony!” you hissed, mortified. “Get out!”

He smirked at your attempt to shield your nudeness from him. “I haven’t seen it in a very long time, but still, is there really any reason to be modest around me? I mean, I’ve been in every hole—”

“Shut up!” you told him furiously – embarrassed, really –, turning away from him, and throwing your shirt over your head. You heard him move and you turned back around quickly finding him closing the space between the two of you and you stood your ground. “You shouldn’t be in here!”

He cocked his head, his face scrunched in vexation. “So, you’ve only been teasing me all night?”

“’Teasing’? What are you going on about?” you said, trying to play dumb.

“Sweet pea, your sneaky glances and putting yourself in my line of sight did not go unnoticed. You’re not subtle, not to me. We played that game for years if you care to recall. Almost three to be exact. The only thing I regret is not going in for you sooner so we would’ve had more time together in the sack. I had a plethora of memories to dive into while I was incarcerated but shit, I would’ve enjoyed more.” He stepped closer and this time you did take a step back and you did not miss his fleeting amusement. He leaned in closer and said, “I know your games and your little tantalizing behaviors.”

The drunker you had gotten throughout the night, the more you found yourself slipping into your old ways. He was correct about that history between the two of you. That first night you had seen him when you were in the pool and since then, you had always tried to be in his sights and it had paid off for you. Tonight, you had found yourself drawn back, adjusting your swimsuit where you knew he could see and sitting in the chairs where he could keep his eye on you. It had been a conscious decision. You hated yourself for it, how much you craved him and his attention still. You were stuck between the life you currently were leading and being dragged back into your relationship with him. Stealing those glances to see if he was looking had only fueled the fire more because he had been watching you like a hawk. Every time you had looked his way, especially when it had gotten dark and his glasses had come off, you caught him always watching your movement. He had looked hungry, just like he looked now.

What your mother said came back to you then, remembering how Jackson treated you versus how she believed – and you knew deep down – Tony would. You hated you wanted Tony so badly and simultaneously craved the partnership you had with Jackson.

“I’m sorry if you got the wrong idea, but Tony, I’m married now,” you said, mustering more calm in your tone than you actually felt.

Tony looked tickled by that response and you gritted your teeth, knowing he was going to brush you off. And he did. “Yeah, I’m happy he was keeping you well and safe for me. You look amazing. I am beyond impressed.” He raised his hand, his hand ghosting down your side to grip at your waist. You tried to flinch away, but his other hand shot up and held you on your other side, preventing you from moving back. His thumbs caressed as he told you, “But you’re still mine, don’t act like you’ve forgotten.”

“You can’t just order me to divorce my husband!” you told him defensively.

“Who said anything about divorce so soon?” Tony chuckled. It was foreboding the way he said ‘so soon’. It was all too clear where he wanted this to go. “I was just starting out with the courteous approach of inserting myself into the situation. Letting it play out.”

God, you hated his ego but fuck if you were not responding in like. Still, you fought against it and tried to hide it. “’Courteous’. Cute, Tony.” You leaned in and said, “If you want tits and pussy, you can go on the Boulevard. It’s about twenty minutes away.”

You pushed his hands down away from you and started to turn away, to reach for your sweatshirt. But his grasp was tight on your arm, yanking you back roughly. You gasped as your noses brushed, before he let you go back a couple inches. You smelled the bourbon on his breath, something you used to relish in.

“I’m not fucking around, Y/N. You’re coming back to me,” he growled. He pulled away even more and looked at you disappointed. He shook his head slightly and said, “You didn’t even come visit.”

That cut deep, unexpected by you. He actually looked hurt.

“I couldn’t! You know I couldn’t leave the state without—”

His demeanor changed in the blink of an eye, again.

“No, this is where you zip it. Okay? The adult is talking,” Tony snapped, his fingers digging into your arm. He melted you right back down to the naïve girl you had been. “You’ve had your fun. Seven years of it actually while I was rotting away in a cell. I’m glad you got to make house and have good dick. And by glad, I mean I am monumentally fucking pissed off.” The words spit like venom. “I had to sit there day after day thinking about how you just threw it away, so easily. I was so disappointed in you, precious. How you could just leave me there like that, after all I did for you?”

Pitifully, you started, “Tony, you’re scaring—”

“Oh, don’t use that as an excuse! Don’t play victim! It’s not cute, Y/N. Stop wasting both our time. You know you want it as bad as I do. I get you feel guilty about your little husband but he was just a placeholder until I got back.” His eyes flashed and his hand left your arm, wrapping around your waist to hold you close. His eyes ran over your face and he leaned like he was going to kiss you and you blinked, watching him closely. He stopped himself at the last second though, running his tongue along his lips. His hand slipped down to your ass, cupping. “I want you around me so badly. So badly. I’ve dreamt about that cunt for years.” Your heart picked up pace. “I’ve dreamt about having you for so long, precious. Don’t deny me this. Not after everything I went through. Especially without you there for comfort.”

You were quiet, your lips parted in surprise, staring at him. His fingers flexed on your back after a few moments at your silence. His tone was firm when he told you, “You’re getting in that Uber with me. You understand me?”

An Uber? He was going to make you leave here?

“We can’t just leave. My mum—”

“Yeah, your mom is passed out. Or should be soon.”

“What? I--”

“She likes her daiquiris way too much and opioids.” Tony snorted and added with a laugh, “Giving you shit for having sex and she can’t even stay sober.” He got closer  again and said, “And your husband is way too high, he’s gonna pass out soon. I’m sure we can make a story up between now and whenever his ass wakes up. I have a lot of time to make up for, so the longer you stand in front of me like a fish gaping at me, the more time you wasted. I’m already ordering the ride as soon as I can take my hands off you.” He squeezed his hand once more on your ass before telling you, “What you craved in us you won’t find in him. If you did, you wouldn’t still be standing here.”

~~~

Forever tags: @coconutqueen21 @undecidedsworld

Fic tags: @buttercandy16 @esistmon @flawra16

[kaijuscientists]

Company

My fill for the SFW day 2 prompt: Hurt/Comfort of @dincobbweek

Title: Company

Cobb's supposed to meet Din at a seedy bar in Mos Eisley, but he’s running late and a group of regulars are giving him trouble.

Cobb sits at the bar of a dive in Mos Eisley, waiting for Din. He’d contacted him the day before, on short notice, but he was going to be in the sector and stopping on Tatooine, and Cobb was not about to pass up spending a night with his Mando.

So, Cobb had hightailed it all the way from Mos Pelgo, excitement simmering in his belly at the prospect of seeing Din again.  Unfortunately, it seems Din is running late. Cobb checks his chrono for the fifth time, an hour and a half past when Din had said he’d be there. 

He’s already had a few drinks waiting, and he’s just minding his own business, enjoying his liquor when a rowdy group of humans walk in and situate themselves at the bar. It doesn’t take them long to single Cobb out of the slim crowd, 

“Never seen you here before.” one of them asks. A skinny looking, nerf herder of a guy. 

“Ain’t never been here before.” Cobb says, swirling his drink in his glass. 

“What brings you in?” “Meetin’ someone.” 

“Who ya meetin?” “A friend,” Cobb says, feeling his temple start to flare. “That ok with you?” 

“I dunno.” A second guy chimes in, with a bigger build to him. “Depends on who’s comin’ doesn’t it.” 

“Well, I don’t personally see how that’s any of your business.” Cobb says. 

The last guy, big and bald, starts now. He’d been sizing Cobb up, looking him up and down.  “You’re not from around here are you?”

“I’m about as tatooine as you get.” Cobb says, pushing his empty glass across the counter. The bar keep refilling it, looking like he wants to say something, maybe tell these guys to behave, but it’s not worth the effort or what it might cost him in tips. 

“Based on that accent of yours.” The big guy says, “I’d say you are from some out skirt moisture farm.” 

That makes Cobb’s hackles rise instantly. 

“What business have you got here, really?”

“I told you” Cobb says, tenuous grasp on his temper slipping. “I’m just meeting a friend. Leave me be.” 

“Why don't you just get out of here.” The bald one says, Cobb guesses that he’s probably the one in charge. “This is our bar, and I'd personally like to drink in peace.” 

“Then just leave me alone, partner.” Cobb says, every hair on the back of his neck bristling as one of the guy's lackeys starts to circle him where he sits.  Cobb bows his head, breathes deep. Last thing he needs is to start a fight. He should at the very least wait for Din to arrive before he does that. “I’m not lookin’ to start anything.”

Cobb rolls his shoulders when the guy leans in close, breathing down his neck and it takes all of his self control to not throw back his head and break the guy's nose right there.   

“Hey,” Skinny says, motioning at Cobb’s scarf. “I think this guy has a brand under there.” 

“Oh, you’re a slave, huh.” The leader says, his interest suddenly piqued.  “That sure explains a lot.” 

“I ain’t been a slave in a long time.” Cobb says through grit teeth, his knuckles white as he grips his glass. “Now i’m only gonna ask nice one time — back the fuck away from me.” 

“Yeah, I don’t think so.“ Leader says. “You got any papers?”  

“Maybe we oughta take him in, just in case,” Skinny says, still hovering around Cobb’s back.  “Might get a reward.” 

Cobb slowly pushes away from the bar, ready to cut his losses at this point and leave the bar, maybe he could try to find out what’s keeping Din. 

“Hey you ain't going anywhere, lemme get a good look at that brand.” The leader guy says, finally reaching out and trying to grab Cobb. 

Cobb doesn't like that one bit, his arm shooting out and knocking the man's hand away before he can make contact. “Do not fuckin’ touch me.” 

That’s when the guy behind him decides to grab him, and this time he does throw his head back, hearing and feeling the sickening crack of cartilage as someone's nose breaks. Followed by some muffled cursing as he’s let go. 

“I did warn you.” Cobb says, losing no time before launching himself at the leader, throwing a punch that lands on his jaw and knocks him back.  He quickly spins, throwing another punch at the bald guy, and kicking back to land a kick in the skinny guy's stomach. 

Cobb kneel’s, laying into skinny, punch after punch, until the big guy throws his arms around Cobb’s neck, pulling him back and off his friend. Cobb, reacting on pure instinct at the point, sinks his teeth into the man's forearm, making him let go with a furious scream. 

“You little shit.” The leader yells, grabbing Cobb by the back of his shirt and throwing him to the ground, where he lands sprawled on his belly on the dirty floor, gasping as the wind is knocked from his lungs. 

He’s flipped on his back, and before he can wiggle free, he’s pinned to the ground, knees digging harshly into his chest. 

“Lemme go.” Cobb growls, fighting against the hold, kicking out with his legs, 

“Oh shut up.” the guy says, drawing back his fist, slamming home into Cobb’s face several times in quick succession. 

Cobb is left dazed with his ears ringing when the weight holding him down suddenly relents. He tries to get up, only for sharp pain to explode in his side, as heavy boots collide with his chest over and over. He rolls onto his side, trying to curl into a fetal position to protect his middle. 

Until everything goes quiet and stops.  

Cobb forces his eyes open, uncovering his face to find everyone's attention is on the door. He lets his head fall to the side, and sees a blurry figure standing backlight in the entrance. 

A silhouette he’d recognize anywhere. 

“You’re fucked now.” Cobb groans.

“Is that who you were waiting for?”

Cobb just smiles, blood on his teeth. 

Din walks into the bar, approaching the group with his hand resting on his blaster.

“I think it would be wise if you took your leave.” Din says. And when no one moves a muscle, only staring wide eyed, Din unholsters the blaster and points it right in the man's face who’s holding Cobb down. “Now.” 

The three run, leaving just Din, Cobb, and a few other patrons. 

“For your trouble.” Din says, tossing a few credits on the bar.

“I’m glad you showed up.” Cobb says, as Din lifts him to his feet, he sways until Din gets a hand on his waist to steady him. “I… I coulda taken‘em though.” Cobb mutters, clenching his eyes against a sudden wave of dizziness, leaning into Din.  

“I’m sure you could have.” Din says, placatingly. “Maybe if you hadn’t been drinking.” 

“M’not drunk.” Cobb sighs, his head aches and his face is throbbing, and each breath burns his against his ribs. “I’m injured.”

“I know.” Din says, slipping his arm around Cobb's waist. “Let’s go, I’ve got a room.”

They make their slow way through the streets of Mos Eisley, to the little hotel Din has a room at.  Cobb leaning heavily on Din as they walk, each step jarring his chest, he knows he’s going to have some bruised ribs tomorrow, if not, some cracked.  

“Wait here.” Din says, depositing Cobb on the single bed to return just a moment later with a damp towel.  He sits next to Cobb, cupping his cheek to hold him in place as he gently cleans the blood from his face.  “You want to tell me what happened back there?” 

“They didn’t like how I looked.” Cobb sighs, hissing when Din presses against his split lip. “Started talking shit, saw my brand and threatened to turn me in since I don’t have papers.” 

Din cringes under his helmet, that would certainly be a great way to get a reaction out of him. 

“If I hadn’t been late,” Din says, folding the towel over to a clean clean, dabbing blood from Cobb's nose. “Maybe this could have been avoided.” 

“Those assholes woulda gave me shit regardless.” 

“Maybe.” Din says, moving to clean the dirt smudged on his temple. “But you wouldn’t have ended up in a fight alone.” 

Cobb laughs, regretting it as pain bursts in his chest, gasping as he presses a hand to his ribs. 

“How are your ribs?” Din asks.

“Feel like I got stepped on by a bantha,” Cobb says tightly, gingerly letting out a breath.  “I'm afraid I am not going to be up for any sort of strenuous activity you mighta had planned on tonight.” 

“Do you think I came here just for that?” Din frowns as he runs his fingers though Cobb’s hair, checking for any hidden bumps. “That I see you as what? A convenient fuck.”

“Can’t see any other reason.” Cobb says, letting his eyes fall closed at the feeling, almost asking Din to keep stroking through his hair when he pulls away all too quickly. “I wouldn’t blame you, if it was.”

“Maybe I just enjoy your company.” Din says, gently taking hold of Cobb’s face in both of his hands. Cobb should probably feel intimidated, having the undivided attention of a mandalorian staring him down. But he just feels… cared for. Din presses his thumbs in along his eyes, seemingly satisfied with the lack of response from Cobb. “Are you hurt anywhere else?”

Cobb shakes his head.  “You could get company anywhere though.” Cobb says, watching as Din stands, removing his armor piece by piece, placing them neatly on the small desk in the room.

“I don’t want anyone else's.” Din says, unzipping his flight suit, stepping out of it. He’s left in just his helmet, boxers and an undershirt when he turns to face Cobb. “I just want yours.” 

Cobb wants to crack a joke here, about how Din looks ridiculous in his under clothes and helmet, but he can’t find the words, can’t do much of anything under Din’s gaze, except feel his cheeks go suddenly warm. 

“Ok,” Cobb says quietly, following Din as he crosses the tiny room, and starts to undress him with the same care he showed to his armor. Slipping Cobb’s shirt down over his shoulders, he can already see the first bruises forming along his ribs, dark purple and mottled. 

“I can get you something for the bruises tomorrow morning.” Din says, letting his fingers trail lightly along Cobb’s ribs and down to his belt.  Cobb lifts his hips when Din asks, letting him pull his pants down, leaving him in just his underclothes too. 

Din lifts the blankets, tucking Cobb underneath before sliding in behind him. He slips his arm around Cobb’s waist, and pulls him gently flush against him, handling him with more care than Cobb thought he was capable of, compared to their usual rough tumbles.  Cobb sighs, relaxing back against Din’s warm chest, resting his arm over Din’s, drawing his hand up to rest over his belly, lacing their fingers together. 

“Hey, Din?” Cobb whispers, smiling when he feels a rumbling hum in response against his back. “Thank you.” 

“Go to sleep.”

[itsstrange]

I’ll Be Here

Adam Ruzek x Reader

A/N: Here’s something short for y’all meanwhile I continue to procrastinate with other stories 💗I haven’t posted in a few days due to certain things happening in my life, so I wanted to drop something here for y’all. ✨

Summary: After a tough case everyone is in much need of a few drinks, Reader taking the case a lot more harder, decides to down her sorrows shot after shot, leaving her unstable to get home. Ruzek, being the ever loving gentleman and partner volunteers to take the Reader home. During the process of doing so, Reader accidentally slips her true feelings towards the man.

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: Alcohol, highly intoxication, Mentions of Violence, Ruzek being a gentleman, comfort, kissing,

————

ENJOY!! ✨

————

“‘Nother one,” You mumble, tapping a finger on the rim of the shot glass,

Greg, the bartender, who you learned through a blurry version, gives you an unsure look, but the one you give in return has him pouring your 8th refill of straight vodka. Giving him your best loopy sided smile, you tip your head back as you down the liquor, not even wincing at the bitter taste as it falls down your throat, which should be a sign to stop drinking but after what you saw today you needed it. Needed the blackout. It was the only way for you to fall asleep without the horrifying image playing in your mind all night. So getting drunk till your completely shit faced is a must.

Motioning another refill to the poor man, he forcefully obeys, not wanting to get on your drunk bad side, because from the looks of it he can tel it won’t be fun. Just as you downed the liquor once again a voice settles right next to you.

“Alright you, how bout we call it a day huh?” You snort, turning your eyes to the one man who can tolerate you in any given state,

Literally.

“I told you... I’m gonna get s’drunk,” You slur at him, slightly catching the way his lips curl upwards,

“Looks like you succeed that goal. C’mon, I’ll take you home,” Adam offers a hand for you to take, but you shake your head,

“Nah.. it’s still early, and m’not even there yet,” You grin at him, eyes twinkling in dim light from the liquor,

Adam softly chuckles, “(Y/n) it’s two in the morning,”

Your furrow your brows at him, “Wha-?”

Looking over your shoulder as much as you can without toppling off your stool, you noticed how the place looked completely deserted, only a few people remained. The rest of the gang had left an hour ago while you were busy downing the image away at the bar. It was just you and Adam now. Giving a surprise hum, you turn back to the bar, calling after Greg, which sounded more like ‘Reg’.

“You can leave if.. y’want,” It was more of an offer than a question,

Adam shakes his head, “Not without you,”

“Geez Ruzek.. if you’d wanted m’in your bed, all you hada’ do is ask,” You give him your best smirk,

Adam chuckles and nervously scratches the side of his neck. If only it would be that easy with you, not that he would only want you on his bed, no that would be the bonus, what he truly wanted was to claim you as his own. You two have been friends since the academy days, and when you both got chosen by Alvin it just grew from there. Especially with the death of your recruiter, something had been built in between you two, causing the both of you to show your vulnerability to one another. You guys trusted each other and knew each other better than anyone else, and as the years passed, your relationship grew as well.

Your feelings to one another wasn’t visible after the whole marriage devastation with Burgess, then once again with Hailey. Adam wasn’t sure at first, would do his best to deny such feelings by sleeping around, but once he’d wake up he felt guilty about the whole night. Feeling wrong for sleeping with a women that wasn’t you. He finally admit to the feelings one day during a case, it was a close call, he didn’t say anything, but he certainly realized how much he cared for you. The moment he saw your body falling on the ground, face twisted in pain as you tried your best to gather air, he thought the worse. If it wasn’t for your awkward position and the heavy bullet vest, the entire situation would have been a lot more horrible.

“‘Reg,” You call out again,

Adam watches as the bartender makes his way over, vodka bottle in one hand and a weary look on his face. Just as nears them both and brings the bottle towards the shot glass, Adam throws a couple bills on the counter.

“She’s done for the night pal,” The bartender nods his head, relief showing on his face as he quickly collects the payment,

You turn around with narrowed eyes, “C’mon, everyone else went home, it’s time for us to do the same,”

You stay quiet for a few seconds before dropping your eyes down to the counter, “Not everyone,”

Adam’s smile slowly falters. He knew exactly what you were referring to. The little girl that had been kidnapped along with various other kids, had been rescued, except for Isabel Pace, a 7 year old girl. She was one of the offenders favorite apparently, just as the gang found his hideout where he kept all the kids, he had took off with her. You had followed him in the car, tried to keep up with him, but an oncoming truck had rammed you off the road, making you lose visual on the beaten up car. Although, after a few minutes later a park ranger caught visual on the car, but once you all arrived on the scene it was a horrifying sight. Sat on the drivers seat was your perk, bullet wound to the head, but what made your stomach twist with pain and rage was the little girl in the back seat who shared the same wound to the head.

The image would forever haunt you along with the others. So of course, Adam couldn’t blame you for wanting to drown yourself in liquor, it wasn’t easy.

He watches as you down the rest of the drink before sighing quietly through his nose, “Come on,”

With hesitation you finally climb off your stool, gripping tightly on Adam’s jacket as he helps you with an arm around your waist, steading you on your feet before slowly walking out the bar and towards his car. Luckily, you hitched a ride with Hailey, leaving your car back at the station and not having to worry about it in the morning.

The ride to your apartment was less than 20 minutes, but still managed to doze out with your head leaning heavily against the cool window. Parking in front of your apartment building, Adam softly nudges you awake before climbing off and walking over to your door. Once helping you out and up the flight of stairs, the both of you finally made it to your front door after what seemed like ages. The elevator had broken down, leaving the stairs the only option available, Adam thanked the lord you stayed in the second floor, he didn’t think he’d be able to go through another pair of stairs with your drunken state.

Another minute passed of Adam trying to open your door while you leaned heavily against him. Kicking your door open with his free shoulder, he leads you both inside and shuts it with his foot before walking you over to your couch. Gently settling you down on the cushions, he walks back to front the door, locks it and turns back, heading towards the kitchen. He’s been in your apartment long enough to know his way around the house. His movements in the kitchen can be heard, but honestly it didn’t faze you, in fact you were nearly dozing off—again— on your couch as he made himself at home in the other room.

“Here,” Adam’s voice makes your eyes flutter open, he sat on your right with a large glass of water,

With slow movements you sit right on the couch as you reach out towards the cup and finish it one gulp. At least it’ll somewhat help with the headache in the morning, it won’t subside the brutal hangover, but it’ll at least help some. Handing him the cup, you settle back in the couch, not to sleep, but to drift off. It wasn’t even a minute when tears start to fall down your cheeks, you thought they were silent tears, but the way you sniff had Adam turning towards you. Not wasting a second he wraps an arm around your shoulders and brings you towards him, your head resting heavily against his chest as silent sobs leave you. Seeing you in pain was the last thing Adam wanted, no matter the situation, he hated seeing you in pain, especially when he doesn’t know exactly how to comfort you. Physically he’s good at, but when it comes to words, he’s the worst, till this day it still surprises him when he manages to spill any comforting words to anyone who’s in need of them.

Comforting someone with words wasn’t his best suit, but words weren’t exactly what you needed at the moment, hell, it never is most of the time, so all the detective does is wrap a tight arm around you as he softly rubs soothing circles on your shoulder and leaning the side of his cheek at the top of your head. Getting a small whiff of your coconut shampoo, along with your Calvin Klein perfume he had gotten for your birthday a few months ago, the scent alone made his heart flip.

A few moments had passed when your tears had finally subsided, but still remained on the couch with Adam, head leaning against his chest, heartbeat playing in your ear and feeling yourself calming down. Another minute passes as you two remain on the couch, his fingers gently massaging your scalp as your own fiddle with a button on his shirt. Although, the sound of you yawning finally breaks the silence in the room, and bringing Adam back from his thoughts.

“C’mon, let’s take you to bed,” As much as he wants to hold you in his arms all night, Adam knows you both need sleep to get up for work in a couple of hours,

Which will be a bitch for the both of you. But mainly for you.

You shake your head and only bury yourself closer to his chest, which honestly made Adam want to allow it, want to fall asleep on the couch with you, but he knows it would be uncomfortable and knows it will only worsen your headache in the morning. Slightly chuckling to himself, Adam places a finger underneath your chin and lifts it up until you meet his chocolate orbs.

“You’ll be okay,” He referred it as a reminder more than a question,

Which was true, and you knew it was. Your job was all about dealing with tough cases that will sometimes get personal, that will have a strong effect on you, both positive or negative and then slowly learning how to move forward. Whether the pain is still there, you learn to use it as motivation to be better, stronger, and knowing you have support from your team, Adam, you knew the pain that you were currently dealing with would also be easy to get through. It might take days, weeks, but you knew it was all about time and patience.

With a hint of hesitation you nod your head in agreement, earning a small smile from the man and then getting lost in each other eyes. Your eyes dart from one pair to the other and then down to his lips, you repeated it a few times before finally closing the little gap between you two. You rest your lips against his for a few seconds and slightly pull back, testing the waters before seeing him lean back in. The way your lips felt together was like a feeling no other, like the missing pieces of the puzzle have been placed in their proper spot, they felt just right. Relief and happiness washed over both your chest, after what seemed like a lifetime you two have finally gave in to one another, and it honestly felt fucking great.

Gentle kisses were exchanged for a few minutes before slowly growing into firmer and deeper kisses. Without much warning you straddle his lap, immediately feeling his hands on either side of your waist, holding you upright as you two continue to lavish each other’s mouths, however, the way you begin to move your hips has him coming back to reality. A small gasp escapes from him when you circle your hips once again, giving you the opportunity to dive your tongue, earning yet another small moan from both of you. The moment was quickly escalating when Adam was beginning to feel all his blood going south, not that he didn’t want to continue, matter of fact he’d take you right here and there but he knew it wasn’t the right way nor right time. You are just acting on impulse, heat of the moment, and more importantly you weren’t sober. What if whatever is going on at the moment is all just a drunken night for you, what if you’d regret it when you awoke? Even if the kiss felt just right to Adam, and to you, he still didn’t want to take advantage of you at this state, it would feel real to him.

“(Y/n),”

“Adam,” You whimper against his lips, moving your hips once again, emotions heightening at the feeling of his member growing underneath you,

The hand that was resting against the mans chest had made its way at the back of his head, fingers finding they’re way into his small soft locks. It wasn’t the way you had pulled his hair that made Adam stop your movements, no, it was the way you angled your hips against his. He had to stop otherwise he knows things will soon start to escalate even more. Gripping tightly on to your waist with both hands he hauls your movements, earning another small whimper from you. Breaking the kiss you stare at him with hooded yet confused eyes.

“You don’t-..,”

“No I want to,” Adam stops you, placing a hand on the side of your cheek, “but I want it to be you, the real you,”

You melt against his hand at his words, you never knew he could be such a gentleman, well more than you’ve already seen him act towards females, and that alone made you fall harder for him.

“Okay?” He asks, hand still on your cheek while eyes search for any disapproval in yours,

Placing your own hand over his, you angle your head to place a chaste kiss in his inner palm before nodding in understanding. Feeling less weight off his shoulders, Adam nods as well before helping you off his lap and leading you towards your bedroom. Helping you remove your denim jacket, boots and pants he tucks you under the covers. Just as he pulls away you grip on to his wrist, holding it loosely as you glance up at him.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Adam didn’t need words to understand what you were asking for,

You drop his wrist and watch as he shrugs off his own jacket and boots before climbing on the other side of the bed, where you immediately settled against him. Your head leaning against his chest, just like earlier while your fingers drew imaginary shapes on his black undershirt. The feeling sending relaxation to the man and making his eyes flutter shut, awhile so many questions piled in your head. What does it mean for you two now? Did he feel the same way or was he just being a gentleman and not wanting to take advantage? Was it just the heat of the moment? Not being able to handle so many thoughts you call out his name.

“Shh..go to sleep,” He says through closed eyes, as if knowing exactly what you were planning on asking and continues with, “I’ll be here in the morning,”

A small smile tugs at the corner of your lips, even if the questions still laid heavily in your head, you knew he would be there in your arms when you awoke. You just hoped you would be able to wake up next to him in the upcoming weeks and in the future. As you got comfortable against him and start to drift off, you fell asleep with his last words of the night..

“I’ll always be here,”

————

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[your-eternal-muse]

Half As Pretty

Heather Series Part 5

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

The Song Mentioned in the chapter, Poison and Wine by The Civil Wars aka, the song that made me sob because it was too perfect for this damn fic. I recommend listening to it while you read the part its mentioned in.

Summery: Reader is experiencing her own personal hell, but one midnight confession sets everything ablaze.

Words: 3.4k I told y’all it’d be longer.

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of nicotine addiction, the beginning of an alcohol addiction, suicidal thoughts, slight manipulation from one Derek Morgan, and just a whole lotta hurt.

Paring: Spencer Reid x Heather Charmical, eventual (I promise) Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

A/N: Okay.....I’m finna be real honest.....I was listening to my music on shuffle when Poison and Wine came on, and I started crying while typing, and than I re-listened to it while typing this up and proceeded to cry again. It took me about 3 minutes of psyching myself up to write ONE sentence near the end of it because I knew there was no going back once I wrote it. This was so hard to write in the most beautiful way possible, and I really hope you guys enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Shout out to @toosassy2handle​ for the recommendation of Heather's last name. It’s long and annoying and just reminds me of a stuck up bitch so its perfect.

~~~~~~

I used to love weddings.

They were always so well put together.

I’d always admire the pretty bride, the dress, everything.

I dreamed of having one of my own one day. And when I met Spencer, those daydreams changed so that I was walking down the aisle towards him instead of someone whose face I could never quite focus on.

But that’s all I’m ever going to have. Daydreams.

Because here I sit, all dolled up next to his mother, at none other than Spencer Reid’s wedding.

It’s obvious Heather did most of the planning.

I don’t take him as a ‘dusty rose’ type of person.

I stare at the soft colors and delicate flowers, and fire burns deep within me.

I want to burn this place to the ground.

I can’t, though.

I’m supportive.

I’m happy for Spencer.

I’m happy that he’s happy.

I’m happy.

I’m happy.

I’m happy.

I look down at my hands, playing with the hem of my burgundy party dress.

I don’t think I’ve been this dressed up since….

I think I threw that dress away when I got home that night.

I don’t remember much of that night after coming back to the table.

I’m positive I drank at least half the champagne they had.

Derek had to carry me home.

“My son didn’t plan any of this.”

I look over, and see Diana scowling at the decor. 

I can’t help but let a small smile spread across my face.

At least she agrees with me.

I lean in closer to her, so our words can only be heard by us.

“I completely agree. He’s more of a ‘dark academia’ kind of guy.”

She smiles at me, reaching her hand over, and patting my leg. “You know when he told me he was getting married, I thought it was going to be to you.”

My heart stops. “Y-You did?”

She nods, looking around the room like she hadn’t just said something that made my world stop spinning. “I didn’t meet Heather until a week after he told me. That’s when I learned that they were dating in the first place. I can’t say I wasn’t disappointed.”

I bring a hand up to my mouth, covering the smile and laugh threatening to spill.

“But she makes him happy. Anyone can see that.”

The smile falls, and the laugh dies.

“Though, he did bring you to meet me not too long after meeting you himself.”

I nod, remembering the trip. “It had been a month. I had known him for a month, and he really wanted me to meet you. I was so nervous. I really wanted you to like me.”

Her smile is big, and her hand finds one laying in my lap, squeezing it.

“I liked you the minute he told me about you.”

I loved Diana.

I will always love Diana.

I open my mouth to say something, but someone a few rows back says ‘Here comes the groom.’

I turn my head, and low and behold, there he is, walking with the biggest smile on his face towards the front. He stands, with his hands clasped in front of him, as he waits like the rest of us.

He looks stunning, in a simple black and white tux.

His eyes meet mine, and I smile at him.

He winks back at me.

The moment doesn’t last long before a song starts, and a hush falls over the crowd.

Slowly, one by one, bridesmaids and groomsmen make their way down the aisle. 

Derek is the best man, and he pats Spencer's shoulder as he takes his position behind him.

And then the music shifts, and while she starts to walk, something dawns on me.

I will never be as pretty as she is.

She’s breathtaking.

She’s practically glowing in the white satin ballgown, a bouquet of roses clutched in her hands.

She’s looking around at the crowd, smiling and nodding and it’s only when she’s halfway down the aisle that she meets his eyes.

I look at him, and I don’t think there are any words that can explain the look of pure joy written across his face.

JJ, who is sitting beside me, reaches over and grabs my free hand, giving it a comforting squeeze.

She reaches the front, and all eyes are trained on her, but I can’t tear mine away from him.

He holds her hand so delicately, and I can see him fighting back tears.

I don’t even notice when vows are said and rings are exchanged. I only notice when I see JJ look at me from the corner of her eye as the officiant says “If anyone has any objection to the marriage of these two people, speak now, or forever hold your peace.”

For a moment, I think about it.

“Me! I do!”

The crowd gasps as I make my way towards the front.

“I do. I object.”

His eyes are wide and she looks furious.

“Why do you object?” The officiant says, startled.

“Because I love you.” I’m looking directly at him.

“I love you, Spencer.”

No.

No, I can’t.

I’d lose everything.

You’d be a selfish bitch is what you would be.

“Then do you, Heather Charmical, take Spencer Reid to be your lawfully wedded husband?”

“I do.”

Tears are lipping out of my eyes, though my eyes are not the only wet ones in the room.

I can blame it on the emotions. I wouldn’t be technically lying.

“And do you, Spencer Reid, take Heather Charmical, to be your lawfully wedded wife?”

Please say no.

“I do.”

I don’t have a heart anymore.

This just confirmed it.

“Then by the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may now kiss the bride.”

He takes her face between her hands, and places his lips on hers in a passionate kiss.

That’s it.

They’re married.

People clap and cheer, and they lock hands, walking back down the aisle, now together by law.

I want to puke.

People start to get up, and I suddenly can’t breath.

My chest rises and falls, and I shoot a glance at JJ, before making my way through the crowd as respectively as possible to leave the room as quickly as I can.

I look down to my bag once I make my way into the vast hallway, digging and searching for my cigarettes when I ram into someone, dropping my purse, and spilling the contents over the smooth tile floor.

“Fuck.”

“Hey hey hey, what’s the rush baby girl?”

I look up to see Derek, kneeling down to help me pick up my stuff.

“I just, I just um,”

Breath, y/n, just fucking breath.

“I just really need to find a bathroom. I shouldn’t have drank all that tea before coming here.”

I shove things back into my purse, not even really looking, before standing back up.

“I’ll find you and Pen in a bit. Promise.” 

I don’t wait for him to answer, turning and walking away before he gets a chance to speak.

I’ll find a bathroom eventually.

~~~~

When is an appropriate time to leave the wedding of your best friend, whom you're secretly in love with, without seeming rude?

Because I need to leave.

I’m afraid of what I’ll do if I don’t.

My right leg is crossed over my left, shaking with every anxious heartbeat.

People have plates full of food, and are mingling with drinks from the open bar, another thing that I know for a fact Spencer had nothing to do with.

I’ve barely touched the food on my plate, my appetite gone, at least not for anything other than the fruity little cocktails that keep appearing in front of me.

I’m about to get up and find someone, probably JJ, that I got sick in the ladies room, and to tell Spencer I’m sorry, when he walks up to where I’m seated, his hand outstretched for me.

“Come dance with me.”

The liquor in my system makes me giggle.

“I thought you didn’t like dancing?”

“I’ll make an exception for my favorite girl.”

Don’t let Heather hear you say that.

I place my hand in his, and let him lead me to the dance floor, where he spins me, before bringing me in close to him, resting a hand on my hip, and grasping my left hand with his other.

My hand not in his rests comfortably on his upper arm, and we sway, back and forth to the soft music.

My heart is pounding in my chest, and I’m positive he can feel every heartbeat through the layers of our clothing. 

The lights are soft, and the music is gentle. If I close my eyes, and don’t think about it, I can imagine that this is our first dance, at our wedding that will never happen.

“Thank you, for coming y/n.”

My eyes open, and I can’t hide from him anymore. His eyes don’t falter from my own, and his smile is small.

“Of course I’d come. Why wouldn’t you think I would?”

“I don’t know. You’ve seemed off these past couple months. I didn’t know if you’d be up for it.”

Shit shit shit.

I laugh off my panic. “Spence, I could be bleeding out on my apartment floor, and I would still make it here. You mean everything to me. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

He grimaces at the thought of me dying, but the words that follow erase the worry on his face. “You’d tell me if something was wrong right? Everything’s okay?”

I smile at him, placing my head against his shoulder so I don’t have to look him in the eye when I lie. “Everything is fine. I’m okay. I promise.”

You’ve gotten way too good at lying to him. What’s gonna happen when he finds out? About your secret? About how it's getting harder and harder for you to get out of bed in the morning because it’s just not worth it anymore? Or about your depleting alcohol cabinet, since every night you seem to think drowning out your sorrows will make it easier to sleep?

He rests his chin on my head and we just sway back and forth to the music. 

His fingers start gently playing with my own, and I hear him softly singing to himself as we dance.

“Oh, your hands can heal, your hands can bruise.” His hand moves from my hip to my lower back, holding me there against him as he continues to sing. 

“I don’t have a choice, but I still choose you.”

I move my face farther into his shoulder, like I could disappear if I wanted to. This feels too intimate, feels too wrong. I should step away and congratulate him, tell him to go find his wife for god's sake, and leave with my dignity still intact. 

But I don’t want to. I’ve dreamed of him holding me like this, and the words he’s whispering I know are for only me to hear.

“Oh I don’t love you, but I always will. I don’t love you, but I always will.”

Whoever the dj is, deserves a raise, because while this song is totally not for a wedding, it’s perfect for this moment.

“I always will. I always will.”

The song ends, and we stand, still together, for a second longer than we probably should. 

“I’m sorry to break you two up, but I was wondering if I could convince my son to dance with his mother.” 

Diana’s voice is soft, and I smile against his shoulder before moving back, removing myself from him. 

His eyes are wet.

“Of course, Diana. He’s all yours.” 

She turns to me before I walk away, pushing stray hairs out of my face, fixing my necklaces and smoothing out my dress. “Heather looked like she was about to burst into flames. I thought I’d save you from a public sacrifice.”

Fuck.

“Thank you, Diana.” 

She kisses my forehead before turning back to Spencer, and I use the time to walk back over to my table, grab my purse and make my way out of the room. 

I find a balcony of sorts, and the cool December air cools my skin. 

I once again dig through my purse to find my cigarettes, pulling out the pack once I do. When I open it, however, I find it empty. 

I smoked my last one and didn’t even realize it.

“Damnit!” I crush it in my hands, before placing it back in my purse.

The sun is setting, and I can see my breath.

I walk forward to the stone railing, looking out over the small park below the building. The stone is rough beneath my palms, and dark spots appear as I cry for the second time today.

I don’t have a choice, but I still choose you.

He couldn’t have meant it the way I’m thinking he meant it. He was just singing along to a song he’s probably heard thousands of times the past couple months.

But it’s too perfect not to. 

Is it possible? Did he love me? If he did, does he still love me?

“Aren’t you cold, sweetheart?” Derek’s voice startles me, and I jump a little. 

“Uh, no. It feels nice. It was getting a little stuffy in there so I thought I would come get some air.” 

He hums, and walks up to stand beside me, his hands in his pockets. 

“You know, when you dropped your purse earlier, an envelope fell out.” 

My eyes widen.

“It didn’t have anything written on it, so I just assumed it was for Spencer and Heather and put it with the others. You seemed like you had other things on your mind so I thought I’d help.”

No no no no no no no no this isn’t happening. This isn’t real, he didn’t just give my love confession to the now married man it’s about and his wife. Oh my god, I’m gonna die.

“Y-You what?! No no no, that wasn’t meant for them. No no no. Holy shit.” I start pacing back and forth, combing my hands through what little of my hair was down.  

“I need to go get it. He’ll understand. It’s just a big mix up. He can’t have that envelope.”

I turn ready to run back into that room and make a scene when Derek speaks from behind me.

“You mean this envelope?” I turn and there he stands, holding it in his hand. 

My stomach rises from my feet. “Jesus fucking christ, Morgan. That’s not fucking funny.” I walk forward to grab it, but he’s taller than I am, and raises it out of my reach. “I never said it was.”

“Give it back, Derek.” Even in heels I can’t quite reach his hand.

“I will, once you tell me what's in it that gets you so worked up at the thought of Spencer having it.”

I don’t meet his eye as I reach for it again. “It’s nothing. It’s none of your business.”

“Baby girl, I see the way you look at him.” He grabs my wrist with his free hand, lowers himself so he can look at me straight on. “And that dance that you two just had? That’s not nothing and you know it.”

My lip trembles and I remove my arm from his grasp, walking back to the railing. 

If you jump, this could all end. You wouldn’t have to explain anything. It's a perfect cop out.

I pinch the bridge of my nose, my voice shuddery when I talk. “You have to promise not to tell anyone. Not even Penelope. And especially not Spencer.”

He stands close by my side, his eyes on my face as I stare out over the park. “I promise.”

Is this what having a heart attack feels like? 

I take a short breath in, it's all I can muster, and speak. 

“It’s a confession. I’m horrible with words, so I wrote it down to give it to him.”

“What were you confessing?” 

Tears resume to fall down my face, and I pinch at my cuticles. “That I’m in love with him.”

I feel Derek shift to look down at the railing, the envelope placed in between us.

“I confessed that I’m in love with him. That I have been since the moment I met him. I know how horrible it is, I know but I couldn’t keep it in any longer. Even if he never finds out, I needed to put it out there that I love him.”

“You’re in love with me?”

I choke on my breath, and my nails dig into the stone.

No. Please no. Please tell me this is all just a nightmare, and I’ll wake up this morning and it’ll have never happened.

My body is frozen, but I manage to turn to see him standing in the doorway, a look of pure shock written across his face.

He looks like I just slapped him.

“Spencer, oh my god.” It’s nothing more than a whisper, but it feels like a scream ripping from my chest.

“Y-You’re in love with me? When-, I-,” he runs his hands through his hair, and takes a step forward. 

I'm sobbing, and I can’t stop. This wasn’t supposed to happen. This was never supposed to happen. “Spencer, I-I’m sorry. I didn’t plan on you finding out like this.”

“When were you going to tell me?” His voice cracks, and I realize then that he’s not angry. He’s hurt.

I have to be honest with him now. I can’t lie to him. It’s over. The ruse is over. 

I’m finished.

My fists clench and unclench as I try my best to keep my emotions under control.

“I was going to tell you the day you introduced me to Heather.”

His eyes flicker to the envelope resting on the railing, and they gloss over for a second as he remembers that day.

“You told me-”

“I lied. I lied and said it was for my mom, but it wasn’t.” I cross my arms in front of me, a chill settling itself on my skin.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

I wish his voice would get louder. I wish he would scream at me. I deserve to be screamed at.

“You were dating someone, Spencer. You had been dating someone, and you had just introduced me to her. What would you have wanted me to do?”

“Not lie to me!” There we go. Get angry. Hate me.

“Why? What would you have done!? What would have happened if I didn’t care about your relationship with her and just given it to you?”

It’s getting darker, and the light pouring outside from the building is the only one to see by, so I can’t really make out his face.

“I don’t know! I have no idea of knowing, but I do know that I wish you wouldn’t have lied to me. You’ve been hiding from me, Y/N. Please stop hiding from me. I can help you.”

I roll my eyes, my vision going blurry from the tears. “No you can’t Spencer. You’re married. Did you forget that?”

He’s quiet, and I can see Derek shift his gaze from between us, not really knowing what to do. 

His voice is substantially softer when he speaks next. 

“Give me the letter.”

I choke back the noisy sobs. “No.”

He repeats himself, holding out his hand.

“Please, give me the letter.”

“Why?” I’m exhausted. Can’t this conversation just end?

“Because I need to know that you loved me like I loved you.”

Loved?

He just told you to your face, that while he may have loved you once upon a time, he doesn’t anymore. He doesn’t love you anymore. He doesn’t love you.

I can’t fight this anymore.

“Please don’t hide from me anymore.” He pleads, and I can feel myself beginning to go numb. Whether it’s from the cold, or my mind starting to shut down, I have no idea. 

I grab the envelope from where it sits, walking forward and handing it to him. 

He brings it to his jacket, tucking it safe inside one of the pockets. 

“I’ll call you. Okay? And we can talk this out.”

There’s no talking this out, Spencer. What’s done is done.

He looks between me and Derek, and without another word, he walks back into the building, shoulders tense, and head down.

This is it. This is the end of the line. Nothing will be the same.

“Y/n….”

I don’t respond. I just turn, grabbing my purse and walking down the stairway the leads to the park from the balcony. 

My tears leave hot streaks against my cold skin. 

A snowflake lands on my nose.

~~~

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[vennilavee]

heat, mind, soul (5)

tsoaf masterlist pairing: levi x reader of color summary: in which there is a party, and you spend the night at the survey corps HQ. and your bar is destroyed. warnings: alcohol, cursing, fluff, smut!!! 18+ word count:  5.3k a/n: i guess 2 months between each chapter is the norm for this story huh

Notification of the pre-expedition party comes in the form of one of the younger survey corps scouts walking into your bar late one evening. You recognize him as the boy you saw on the wall a few days ago. Eren.

When you had your midnight kiss with Levi on top of Wall Rose. His kiss was something that played on repeat in your head, the soft feeling of his lips against yours, his hands over your hips, the way he pressed himself against you when you both fell asleep…

Despite the grimness of this world, his warmth and the map of his hands is a feeling that has fondly crawled into your heart and bloomed. And over the last few days, he’s stopped by when he can, opting to spend the night with you whenever possible. 

It’s moving fast, but with him, it just feels right. And for two souls from the Underground, taking things slow seems like a waste of time. Considering that you both know how fleeting life is. And that small joys should be cherished and held on to for as long as they can.

So you hold on to him. You cherish him. You ask questions about what it’s like beyond the wall, and he only looks at you as if he can see right through you-

“It’s...it would be better without the fuckin’ titans.”

“Oh, you don’t say?”

“It’s endless. There’s so much sky...trees...you would like it. You like that kinda shit.”

Levi pauses, kissing his teeth.

“I’ll take you someday. When this is over.”

You scoff. Tomorrow is not a promise for today, and you both know that.

“You shouldn’t make promises you won’t keep.”

You’re lost in your thoughts for a moment, thoughts of Levi and his steel eyes, when the boy in front of you clears his throat with wide, green eyes. 

Despite him being just a boy, you can see the undercurrent of tragedy and blood in his bright eyes.

“Think you’re a few years shy of legally being able to buy a drink from me, Eren,” You say dryly, wiping a beer glass with a cloth.

“I’m not here for a drink,” Eren says, sounding affronted, “I’m here because the commander wanted to relay a message to you.”

“Your commander and his captain couldn’t come tell me themselves, huh,” You mutter under your breath.

“Oh, you’re telling me that Captain Levi isn’t going to be stopping by soon?” Eren says smugly, without batting an eyelash and you gasp at his attitude.

“That’s-that’s not-” You sputter, cheeks warming up at his grin, “What is the message, Eren?”

“The commander is requesting your services for a party in about a week. He wants you to provide alcohol and drinks for the Survey Corps.”

“O-oh,” You nod, “Yes, I can do that. Just give me the details and I’ll do my best.”

Eren tells you that he and some other members of the Survey Corps will arrive during the day to help bring the barrels and bottles of alcohol over to headquarters. You don’t bother to tell Eren that you are well aware of where the Survey Corps headquarters is located. 

Because Levi somehow trusted you enough with that information.

The thought of seeing the castle where Levi lives sends a rush of nerves through you. He hasn’t invited you himself, not yet at least. After all, he usually stops by your bar more often than not and you’ve never asked to see the castle.

You think that Captain Levi of the Survey Corps probably has more pressing things to worry about than the blossomed feelings of the bartender pining after him.

Perhaps his leg is still slightly hurting him, you think. Levi had mentioned here and there that sometimes his leg would ache at random moments. You wonder how much of him aches and how much of it he internalizes. He hasn’t been by to see you in a few days, and if you’re a little disappointed, you’ll keep it to yourself. 

Because there are more pressing things, and you’ll see him soon enough.

Levi wonders if he should ask you to stay the night. After all, you’ll be essentially hosting this gathering for the rowdy soldiers of the Survey Corps. And you’d probably be tired by the end of the whole ordeal.

He’s already tired from it, and it hasn’t even happened yet. But if you’re there, that makes it a little more bearable.

Levi tries not to stare when you walk into the mess hall with Jean and Connie on either side of you, each carrying a barrel of what he presumes is wine while talking your ear off. And you smile with them, laugh with them.

You’ve been here for two seconds and Levi can already tell that you fit in with them. And he struggles to keep his eyes off of you- the fit of your long black skirt hugging your hips and the green blouse tucked into your skirt, gold hoops on either ear…

Pretty. You look pretty and Levi’s throat goes dry.

He catches your eye and you offer him a crooked smile. Levi makes his way over to you and tells (really, demands) Jean and Connie to go get the other crates of alcohol, and you smile a little wider at him.

“Missed me so much that you wanted to throw a party here, huh?” Levi says, letting his fingers brush over your clothed elbow. His touch is fleeting, barely there, but you can’t help but try to lean closer to him for more.

“You caught me,” You reply dryly, “I wanted to see you so bad that I offered more than half of my stash of liquor for you to consume in a single night. You know, I should report you to the MP’s for encouraging underage drinking. Pretty sure your kids were frothing at the mouth just from the smell of beer.”

“Underage drinking? Yeah, right,” Levi scoffs with a roll of his eyes, “Those kids wouldn’t be able to tell water from wine.”

Levi brushes his pinky finger over yours and the small touch sends your heart accelerating. 

You let out a laugh, your head tipping back in mirth and you miss the flash of fondness in Levi’s grey eyes.

“You gonna give me the official tour or what,” You ask. You’re curious about the space that Levi lives in, about where his friends and colleagues live. The Survey Corps has always felt like an enigma to you- a flurry of forest green capes and silver blades. 

“Maybe later. Don’t you have work to do?” Levi says, voice flat but you catch the undercurrent of teasing.

“You gonna help me? You didn’t even help me bring the barrels inside.”

“You had it covered.”

“Oh, did I? If your kids are drunk off of the fumes, don’t blame me.”

Levi exhales sharply, a breathy chuckle escaping his lips. The sound echoes in your heart, a sound you never want to let go of.

“You’re stupid,” Levi mutters and pokes your forehead. You only beam at him.

Organized chaos fills the mess hall quickly once the Survey Corps begins to fill in to the hall. You can’t help but wonder when the last time any of them had laughed like this- were they laughing for themselves or fallen soldiers and comrades? Both? It’s the least you could give them, you think.

The raucous sounds of laughter and shouts emerge from the corner of the mess hall, where you spot Eren and a few other boys his age. Namely, one of them with brown hair. They’re yelling at each other, about to start throwing fists, while a crowd forms around them.

Nobody moves to stop them, but clearly, everyone’s either too intoxicated or too lazy to try. But really, maybe this is a reprieve that they all need. 

The shouts get louder and punches start being thrown. You pay it no mind, expecting someone in the Survey Corps to stop them. Before you can give it another moment of your attention, your vision is blocked.

You look up, somehow maintaining a perfect poker face when you come in contact with Erwin Smith’s deep, blue eyes.

“Was wondering when the Commander himself was going to grace me with his holy presence,” You remark dryly.

He only looks at you in that disarming way. The same way he looked at you the first time you saw him in your bar. And it’s a look you’ve seen on him from years ago.

You’re very familiar with him, it seems. And the thing you both have in common is Levi.

“I assume you found your way here alright?” Erwin asks. He’s intimidating and his mere gaze makes you swallow nervously.

“Yes, Eren and the rest were really helpful. And thank you for asking me to supply you. I’m really-”

“I trust anyone who Levi trusts,” Erwin says simply and your jaw nearly drops.

“Do you?” You can’t help the question and Erwin looks amused.

“Do you have something you want to say?” Erwin asks, his eyebrow raised.

Your palms sweat- should you tell him? Should you tell him that you recall seeing him all those years ago in the Underground? Should you tell him that you and Liya had been paranoid that he and he team were coming for you and your little not-so-legal operation?

“No, not at all,” You shake your head, “And a word of advice- maybe it’s not a good idea to blindly trust anyone who your Captain trusts.”

“Who said anything about blindly trusting anyone?”

And he walks away from you, effectively rendering you speechless. You think he has that effect on people quite often.

By the time the night ends, it’s well past midnight. In fact, it’s closer to three in the morning, and your eyes are burning with sharp fatigue. Most of the Survey Corps soldiers had drank their fill and the descent into drunkenness had been a merry one.

You always love to see how people enjoy the things you create. It’s part of why you genuinely enjoy being a bartender. But making drinks for the entirety of the Survey Corps was pretty taxing, even if you had enjoyed every minute of it.

And if Erwin Smith himself had paid you well and complimented your bartending skills, it was a win for you.

You had managed to have a few drinks of earthwater to ease your nerves, but now you were eager to go home and go to bed. Sleep is calling your name, and yet your eyes always land on Levi.

He hadn’t approached you much during the night. Not that it bothers you. You know he wants to let you be in your element without him as a distraction. But really, he’s not a distraction for you.

Levi sees you yawn a few times and something hesitant gets stuck in his throat. What is he so hesitant for? It’s so late already. It would be stupid for you to walk home right now, let alone walk home alone.

He could walk you home, he supposes. But he doesn’t want to do that either. It’s been a few days since he’s seen you last. Since he’s stayed the night with you.

Maybe you could stay the night with him. For the first time.

Levi scoffs at his own internal monologue.

“It’s late,” Levi says off-handedly. Everyone else has cleared away from the mess hall, taking their drunken antics with them to bed.

“Great observation,” You mutter.

“Stay with me tonight,” Levi says. He says it so easily, as if it’s not the first time he’s asking you to stay with him. He forces himself to look you in the eyes, amused to see a knowing grin on your face.

“I was waiting for you to ask. Can’t believe it took you until three in the morning to ask me to stay the night-”

“Don’t make me rescind my offer.”

“What a gentleman,” You tease.

“Shut up.”

Once the door of his bedroom closes, you immediately tug his wrist and he turns around, about to ask you what’s wrong. But instead, you impatiently press your lips to his, tasting liquor on his tongue immediately. Levi tastes sweet and minty, refreshing like a cool sunrise.

Your hands are instantly in his hair, chest pressed against his. His hands hover over your hips before sinking his fingers over your ass.

“Missed you,” You say into his mouth, your voice soft and sweet. You press a kiss to the corner of his mouth, somehow already knowing that he was aching to be near you. To hold you, to touch you.

Levi lets himself indulge with you a little longer- the press of your hips against his is too much for him to want to resist. His hand cradles your neck as he steals your breath with soft lips. You don’t think you ever want to live in a world where you can’t feel his quiet desire.

“Wait,” He rasps and you look at him with wide eyes, “Go change.”

“And what would you have me change into?” You ask with a raised eyebrow, “I don’t have clothes here.”

“I have clothes,” Levi murmurs, his thumb caressing your cheek.

“They’ll be small on me-”

“Just try them on,” Levi hushes you and pulls you towards his mahogany armoire. You can’t resist touching the different iterations of his uniform, his dress shirts, his trenchcoat. And then his linen night clothes.

“You’re not shopping,” Levi says dryly, “Stop touching everything.”

You smack his chest lazily. “I’m assessing my options. I guess this’ll do-”

You pull a shirt from his closet, it’s soft under your fingertips and you wonder how it might look on you. Maybe Levi would enjoy the sight of his clothes on you the same way you had enjoyed your own clothes on him. Levi gives you a shirt, similar to the style of the grey linen shirt you enjoy seeing him in.

“Turn around,” You shoo him away.

“I’ve literally seen you naked,” Levi says flatly, but turns around regardless. He hears you rustling your clothes off and hopes that you don’t let your clothes drop to the floor. What a mess.

You neatly fold your clothes and place them inside his armoire, tucked into the corner. Levi can’t resist turning around and catching a peek of your bare legs, a hint of cotton black panties, and the way his shirt cinches around your waist.

Levi swallows. 

“Told you it wouldn’t fit,” You say pointedly, “Look at this-”

Levi’s looking alright. His shirt rides up on you, your bare belly and your hips calling for his touch. The shirt is tight over your chest, your breasts defined and detailed by the fit of the shirt. You’re afraid to raise your arms too high, for fear of ripping the shirt.

“Looks great to me,” Levi murmurs, stepping closer to you. His hands instantly grip your hips, your warm skin under his fingertips and pliant to his touch. 

“You’re only saying that because you have to,” You roll your dark eyes playfully and smack his chest. He takes your wrist, thumb absently soothing your pulse and he raises your wrist to his lips. He presses a light kiss to your inner wrist, leaving your heart fluttering and your lips upturned.

“I don’t have to do anything,” Levi points out.

“Yeah,” You breathe, “But you should kiss me-”

Levi easily picks you up, his hands tight on your thighs and carries you to his bed, dropping you carefully on his crisp, cotton sheets. Everything smells like him, his beige sheets, his pillow, his covers. You could drown, and you’d gladly sink in love with him.

You’re both a synchronized mess of limbs and lips, of murmurs and moans- neither of you can get enough of touching the other. It’s only been a few days, maybe a week or so, but you’re overcome with a familiar feeling. A familiar feeling of longing, of not wanting to let him go. You cross your ankles hastily around his narrow waist, pulling him closer to you.

The dimming light of the candle at Levi’s bedside illuminates the soft planes of your face, giving your brown skin a fiery glow. You look like you belong here, your dark hair a sharp contrast against his sheets. You look like you belong here, with him, in between his sheets and fitting in the rough crevices of your hands.

But your hands are rough, too, in the way that they scale his back. Your touch is rough but gentle against his scarred skin. The scars on your skin match some of his and he squeezes your hands as he dips his head to meet your rouged lips. 

Levi wonders if he should pull away from you. Not just from this moment, but from you in all of your fire. If embracing his feelings for you is dangerous, then he’ll be a risk to himself.

If his feelings are something to avoid for some grand, noble cause that he doesn’t quite understand, he won’t. Not when he’ll regret it if he does. Not when the noises he pulls from you, the soft sighs and breathy calls of his name sound so sweet to his ears. Not when the cacophony of your sweet noises shoot straight down to his cock.

He won’t deny himself of this divine rapture- nothing would ever compare to the way your moans crescendo in his ear, only for your wet, warm walls to squeeze down all around him. Levi kisses the junction in between your shoulder and your neck, panting into your glistening skin as he rolls his hips into yours. His hands are bruising over your hips, hands squeezing every inch of your skin that he can.

Levi’s eyes are blazing, bits of grey steel sputtering out in ash when he looks at you. The intensity of his gaze makes your cheeks heat up, and instead you tip your head up for a needy kiss.

He curls a hand around your warm cheek, stilling inside of you momentarily. “Are you with me?” Levi murmurs. He’s so close to your face that soft puffs of his breath tickles your nose.

“Yes,” You mumble hoarsely, “I’m with you.”

Waking up next to Levi in his bed felt as natural as anything else in the world. As the sun rose, illuminating his bedroom with soft rays of gold, you did, too. Specifically, you woke up to Levi’s hands on you and his lips attached to the back of your neck.

You could get used to this. You could really get used to this.

“You don’t have anything to do today?” You ask, sleep still curled in your voice.

“Couple things later,” Levi murmurs, “For now, just us.”

“Okay,” You hum, closing your eyes and almost drifting back into sleep.

Mornings with Levi are slow and steady. Just the way you like it. No interruptions outside of the concrete walls of his bedroom, only your breaths and his. He slots himself between your legs and you make a home out of him as the sunlight pours onto your skin.

Levi doesn’t think he’s ever seen anything as beautiful as the golden sunshine on your brown skin. 

Once you and Levi are both dressed, Levi wordlessly hands you something heavy in your hands. It’s in a sleek, black box and you raise an eyebrow in curiosity.

“What’s this? Parting gift?” You ask. Levi rolls his eyes and opens the box for you. It’s a silver dagger, one that looks a little used.

You look up at him with wide, confused eyes. 

“In case you need it,” Levi says simply.

In case you need something to remember me by.

A bullet almost as wide as your palm slings past you and into the shelf of alcohol behind you. Before you can shout at whoever it was for destroying your precious liquor, a piercing pain erupts from your upper arm.

Blood drips down your arm, staining the edges of your nice blouse. The bullet grazed your bare arms apparently and Levi meets your eyes from his position behind the bar counter. Silently, you tell him you’re fine and to handle his mess. He gives you a curt nod and eyes the bottle of alcohol in front of him and takes your shotgun.

He always would ask you why you had a shotgun if you never learned how to properly use it. And you’d tell him you’ve always been a knife kind of girl, as he should know.

You briefly wonder how Levi reacts so quickly. Are you in shock? Why are you thinking about Levi’s quick reflexes when your arm is bleeding out? You feel lightheaded but you force yourself to stay awake and stand firm. It’s your bar, and you’ll be damned if anyone gets in the way of that.

Words and the shouts around you sound muffled to your ears. You briefly hear Levi and the stranger with a fedora exchange a few remarks, before Levi lifts your shotgun over his head and shoots. Your ears are ringing fiercely and you barely hear Levi mutter to you that he’ll try to come back to you before tossing one of your bar stools out of the door and into the stranger.

“That’s my fuckin chair,” You mutter, “Ass.”

Levi doesn’t look back at you before swinging away on his cables. You hear the sharp twist of blades and the booming sound of bullets fill the air once more before black dots coat your vision and you pass out.

Cradling your left arm close to your chest, you survey the damage at your bar. The bar top itself is split in half with stray pieces of wood littering the floor. The stench of fear and adrenaline lingers in the air, even though it’s just you in the bar.

You decide to tell Levi that you’re putting the damages on the Survey Corps’ tab.

You had woken up several hours ago in the infirmary, with a nurse and a doctor looking at you warily-

The throbbing in your arm had subsided for the most part but you just felt so… woozy. 

“We cleaned out your wound while you were passed out. Unfortunately, it does require stitches. Eight to be exact.”

“You couldn’t do that when I was passed out, too?” You groan hoarsely. Stiffness begins to settle into your left arm and you wince.

And about thirty minutes after that, you had left the infirmary alone with only the new moon as your company. You vaguely remember Misaki being in the infirmary with you, but you had told her to go home. She had a younger sister to take care of, after all. That much you remember, in your exhausted delirium.

Sweat breaks out over your forehead when you attempt to pick up the pieces of broken wood from the floor. You manage to clean all of two feet of space before giving up from exertion. You sit in front of what remains of your bar counter and lean your head back with your eyes closed.

What a day. You hope Levi’s okay, and that whatever reason he had for dramatically slamming into your bar completely unannounced was worth it.

He’d roll his eyes at you if he heard you.

“You gonna sit there all day or what?” A voice, quite possibly one of your favorite voices, calls from the entrance of your bar.

“We’re closed. For construction,” You reply, still with your eyes closed.

You hear his footfalls before they stop right in front of your crossed legs and he crouches down to be eye-level with you. You feel his fingers brush over your bandages and you finally open your eyes to come face to face with Levi himself.

“Hey,” You murmur, the last bits of your strength evaporating into the air with your words.

“You should be resting,” Levi says, eyes intensely trained on you. 

“I suppose,” You reply, “You should be resting, too.”

You eye the cut over his eyebrow and splotches of dried blood caked over his cheeks. You wonder if it’s his blood.

“Couldn’t even make it upstairs?” Levi asks, ignoring your comment.

“Obviously not,” You roll your eyes.

“I should leave you here. For that mouth of yours.”

“Shut up. I quite literally took a bullet for you, so help me up, Captain Levi.”

His eyes soften marginally at that. He pulls away from you to quickly clear away the broken pieces of wood strewn across the floor. He hoists you up with his hands gently over your ribcage. You’ll never deny his touch on any part of you, and you both know it.

Levi carries you to your small but cozy apartment above the bar when he sees you fighting off fatigue. He wonders if you do that for his benefit. Pretend like you’re not the most tired you’ve been in a long time just so he doesn’t feel bad about it.

He knows of your tough exterior and he knows your smart mouth. But he knows that you’re soft, too.

Levi seats you on the edge of your bed and you watch him flit around your apartment with tired eyes. He’s been here enough times to know where things are- ointment, bandages, medicine, water.

“Stitches?” 

“Eight of them,” You nod.

Levi wordlessly peels your bandages off of your skin. You expect a sharp sting, but there is none. Only Levi’s rough fingers gently prodding at your skin.

“I could’ve done a better job,” Levi scoffs, “Look at this. It’s going to leave a scar.”

“Should I have waited for you while you brought your fancy medical supplies?” You snark, “Besides, it’s okay. Nobody will fuck with me now.”

Levi ducks his head to examine your stitches further, but you’re certain he’s rolling his eyes at you again. His fingers are gentle and warm along the outer areas of your fresh stitches. He washes his hands before dabbing ointment over the gash and wrapping it with new bandages. 

“You should watch what I’m doing, rather than stare at me. I won’t be around to change your bandages every night,” Levi says without looking at you.

“What an honor that would be,” You mutter, “Having you stay longer than a night. What a dream.”

He hears the bite in your teasing, but lets it go. Hands brush over his cheek, fingers flitting over his eyebrow curiously. You pad across the skin there, satisfied when you feel a mostly healed cut.

“And you? You were bleeding when you flew in here. Who was that guy anyway? Can’t believe he fuckin’ shot me. In my own fuckin’ bar. What an ass.”

“That was Kenny.”

“That was Kenny?”

“Yes, close your mouth. You look like a fish out of water.”

“How else do you want me to react? The guy who raised you is trying to kill you? What the hell, Levi?”

“He’s part of the shitty MP now. With the interior police.”

He can’t hide the disdain in his voice.

“Wasn’t he the one who killed over a hundred MP’s? Kenny the Ripper?”

“The one and only.”

You’re quiet for a few moments, fingers reaching behind him to lightly scratch his undercut. Levi dares to let out a quiet sigh, closing his eyes and allowing himself a few moments of silence. And you. You press your forehead to his, a light breath tickling his nose.

Dark circles under his closed eyes are prominent and his shoulders seem to slump in your embrace. He’s tired, even if he’ll never say it.

“Stay with me tonight?” You whisper, breaking the silence. Levi opens his slate grey eyes and peers into your own, reluctance already swirling in them.

You press a kiss to his jaw. His cheek. The corner of his mouth. Finally, his lips. As if you’re trying to coax him into staying with you.

Like he needed any persuasion to begin with.

“I have to leave early tomorrow,” Levi finally says. You nod and he buries his head in your neck, breaths soft and steady against your skin. His chapped lips are rough but welcome over your throat as he kisses you. Levi is gentle with you, mindful of your arm, as he melts into you wordlessly.

You wonder if this man knows the extent of how deeply he’s burrowed himself within you. You wonder if he knows that your blood and your heart belong to him.

The words, the confession. It never comes, no matter how often you think of spilling the words from your lips. It remains silent in your throat, caged away like a bird that will never sing.

You tug at Levi’s shirt, trying to lift it off of him with one hand. Mostly, you want to see if he has any fresh bruises that need attention. But you always get distracted by him and his curious hands.

But tonight, you can tell his mind is wandering. And you can tell he needs to sleep. You wish he’d sleep with you for half a day, or even sleep in with you once in a while. But you can only dream.

“Levi,” You say softly, “Will you help me get out of these clothes? I’m so tired. Kinda want to just… lay down.”

You rub your eyes and press your forehead to his shoulder. You sigh contentedly as his hand rubs your back and you lazily rub his chest.

“Sit up then,” He murmurs. He knows where your sleep clothes are, and pulls out one of two shirts he had given to you weeks ago. To remember him by.

Levi undresses you, deliberately sending you little shocks with his touch across your warmed skin. His lips are upturned slightly. He’s being playful. He tosses your clothes in your laundry bin as you crawl into bed, waiting for him.

“Wait,” You say sheepishly, “Can I have some water? I mean, I’d do it myself. But I’m just so cozy right now.”

Levi kisses his teeth in pretend annoyance but brings two glasses of water to bed with him. One for you and one for him. You drink generously, watching him change into sleep clothes before he blows out the candle on your nightstand. Levi climbs into your bed and immediately pulls you to him, fingers under your shirt instantly. His arm is around your waist, wrapped around you, quiet and steady. He’s careful not to touch your injured arm. 

There are a million things you want to say to him. You want to speak to him until the sun comes up, not wanting to waste a second more with him. You want to hear about every second of his day and you want to tell him about every second of yours. His time with you is rare and limited and you’re always left yearning for more when he inevitably leaves you for the world.

His world. The one without you in it.

You swallow those slippery thoughts down, and instead snake your fingers through his hair and enjoy the way he hums into your neck. Levi rubs the bandaged area around your arm gingerly. His touch is gentle and featherlight, yet still somehow carrying all the words he doesn’t say in it.

“I need to get you another chair, I think.”

“You need to get me another bar, I think. I’m putting it on the Survey Corps’ tab. It’s a Levi tax. A levy if you will.”

“Hilarious,” Levi mutters, but you hear the airy chuckle against your skin. You laugh with him, before turning towards him and cupping his cheek. He meets your dark eyes, peering at you as if he can see your heart beating through your gaze.

“Sleep, Levi. Wake me before you go,” You say softly, pressing a fierce kiss to his lips.

Levi allows himself to get lost in you, in your familiar jasmine scent. He allows himself the luxury of a lover stealing his breath away at least once more.

Sleep comes easily for him that night. As it usually does, when he’s with you.

tags: @simpingmaize @captainchrisstan @alrightberries @kentobean​ @melancholicmonologue​

[joheun-saram]

promise - 1 (knj)

Chapter 1: New Year’s Eve

masterlist | next

Summary- It’s NYE and you can’t wait to bring in 2017 surrounded by your friends, but there’s a new cute boy around. You’re intrigued but quickly find out there is it’s no good being cute when he’s literally the most infuriating person you’ve met.

word count- 3.1k

pairing- asshole!Namjoon x Reader (alternatively, edgelord!Namjoon)

rating- PG15

genre- collegeau, roommatesau, enemies2lovers, slow burn, this chapter is platonic fluff(and angst I guess), future angst, fluff and smut

warnings- alcohol consumption, marijuana consumption, Namjoon being an absolute ass, he’s against socialism for a hot second (to rile her up, our Joonie is still woke tho nw), mention of sex, Jungkook’s parents based on my actual best friend’s parents (shoutout to their amazing jello shots!)

a.n- Well, well, well... if it isn’t my simp ass writing another Namjoon series. Love that about me. Get ready for some slow burn and a lot of Namjoon just being annoying! 🥴This is a drabbleish series so most parts will be about 2-3k.

Thanks for the beautiful @ditttiii​ for beta reading and to @aroseforyoongi​ for helping me with the political argument (also for dubbing this Namjoon edgelord!joon 🤣)

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

taglist- @namyoongles​ @cheesecakes-randomshitz​ 

Send me an ask to be on the taglist!

-

You were running late. Very late.  With a sigh you watched the street pass you by in a blur, the distant roar of your bus dimmed by the rap music that blasted through your ears. You looked at the group chat to be bombarded by messages.

Jungkook: bro istg if you’re not here in the next ten minutes

Hoseok: HURRY UP! JK IS DOING SHOTS WITH HIS DAD OMFG

Jimin: OMG Y/N. WE’RE GETTING DRUNK WITHOUT YOU

Jungkook: adsdsd duddde u suk wdt syop taling foevr

Yoongi: I’m gonna drink all the whiskey I got from Korea this week if you don’t get your butt over here.

Yoongi: Jieun says hi btw!

The texts continued to devolve into nonsense as you willed the bus to move faster. You were annoyed. Jungkook had planned the new year’s party at his parent’s house, and you were beyond excited to party, having spent the entire winter break stuck at home with your parents as they argued over the smallest things. You tightened your grip around your duffle bag as the bus came to a stop. Trudging through the snow you finally reached the familiar red door of your best friend’s house.

You knocked, taking in the large three-storey suburban house as you waited to be let in, already digging through your backpack for the bottle of tequila you had brought along. If they took any more time to open the door, you were going to start drinking right there on the porch. Before you could uncap your bottle, you were greeted by Jungkook’s dad, the familiar, jolly older man moved his hair out of his eyes as he greeted you.

However, before you could finally get out of the cold, he stopped you, presenting a tray of colourful jello shots.

“Y/N! Penalty for being late. You have to take a shot!” He laughed as you sputtered, his face reddened by what you assumed was alcohol. You had known Jungkook since the two of you were freshmen in university and had routinely stayed with him and his parents during break, but you had never seen Mr. Jeon this drunk. You stood awkwardly, not knowing what to do as he insisted, your friend finally joining him and encouraging you as you tentatively took a shot.

“I changed my mind! One of every colour!” Mr Jeon exclaimed joyously as Jungkook groaned.

“Dad! It’s cold. Let her in!” He whined and thankfully, you were let in. Taking off your shoes and leaving your bag by the door, you ventured into the living room where you saw all your friends. Hoseok leaned where he sat on the couch, his face buried in his phone as he, no doubt, texted his hookup. Jimin danced next to the Christmas tree the Jeons had yet to put away with a glass of liquor as Yoongi played the piano in the corner, cuddling with his girlfriend Jieun. Bubbling warmth swelled your heart as you saw all your favourite people.

“Come on let’s get you a drink!” Jungkook put his arm around you, planting most of his weight on you due to the alcohol raging through his veins as he guided you to the kitchen through the living room. In the kitchen, you were met by the sight of his parents swaying together to Yoongi’s expert piano skills, and a man you didn’t recognize sitting at the breakfast island, talking to Jungkook’s younger sister animatedly, who seemed to be trying to leave the conversation.

Jungkook poured you a rum and coke, easy on the coke, as he made his way to the breakfast bar. You stood next to his sister, making small talk before she excused herself to go to her room. She never stuck around long during these get-togethers. 

When she left, you were left standing awkwardly next to the only stranger at this party. The first thing you noticed was that he was tall. Much taller than all your friends, his dark black hair styled away from his face, a strand falling on his forehead shaped like a comma. He was dressed much like everyone else in dark wash jeans and a navy t-shirt with white leaves outlined on the sleeves, except his jeans fit him almost too perfectly, sculpting his thick thighs. Although he seemed friendly, greeting you with a pretty dimpled smile, your sudden attraction to him made you nervous.

“Hi. I’m Namjoon,” he said, eyeing you from over his cup as he sipped whatever concoction he was drinking.

“Oh shit! I keep forgetting you guys have never met!” Jungkook slurred as he sidled up to the two of you with his stool, leaving you standing between the two sitting boys. “Namjoon and I have been friends for years. I think we probably met the same time you and I did, but I guess we never ended up meeting together?” He ended his statement as a question, and it surprised you. You thought in three years you would have met all of his friends. 

“Well, that and I took a break from school. I was doing an internship in California.” He beamed, clearly proud of his achievement. “I worked at Twitch, you know them?” He smirked, and you had to fight your urge to roll your eyes. Of course, he worked in Cali. You went to a university renowned for its engineering degree and it was the goal of every software engineering student to land an internship in California. Those lucky enough to achieve it used it as social currency and bragging rights. You despise those people. It wasn’t that you weren’t smart enough to land that opportunity, in fact, you were coming off of your internship with Facebook last term, but you always felt flaunting a job to be such an ugly trait. However, Namjoon was Jungkook’s friend and so you let it slide.

“Ah Twitch. Very cool.” you hummed as you drank.

“Yeah. What program are you in?” He asked, continuing the conversation as Jungkook disappeared to talk to his parents, trying to convince them to retire for the night since they had embarrassed him enough.

“Computer science,” you replied non-committedly, watching his face break into a wide smile.

“Oh, that’s so cool! Me too!” He replied excitedly. You had to admit, his smile was very charming and you let your guard down a little more. Maybe he just got influenced by kids in your program to brag about Cali. “I haven’t seen you in any of my classes though! Would’ve remembered you. None of the other compsci girls are this pretty.” He smirked, clearly proud of his flirtatious comment. You narrowed your eyes at him, immediately put off.

“So glad to know you deem me pretty enough to notice.” You rolled your eyes, before grabbing your bottle of tequila and a few disposable shot glasses and making your way to the living room. “Well, it was… okay to meet you. I’m gonna go do shots.”

“Wait! I’m sorry, did I offend you?” he asked, brows furrowed in confusion as he easily caught up to you, walking beside you and even sitting next to you on the floor, as you lined up the glasses to pour the drinks for everyone.

“No it’s cool, dude. We just don’t have anything in common,” you said nonchalantly as the rest of your friends crowded the table, excitedly taking a shot glass in hand as Jungkook waltzed in with a plate full of lime wedges and an intricately expensive-looking salt shaker. Namjoon didn’t say anything as everyone took their shots, but watched you throw back your drink, noticing the small smile that overtook your features as the alcohol from earlier finally started to take effect. 

After a few more shots, the party really started. Although there were only seven people, your rowdy, borderline chaotic group had you laughing. Hoseok was going on some tale about his adventures back home where he ended up at a bar with his high school friends and got the numbers of four girls by doing a disgustingly named muff-diver shot. He bragged about his game, and you burst his bubble by telling him it was really only because he was hot. Something he didn’t take much offence to as he wiggled his eyebrows at you. Namjoon, however, came to Hoseok’s defence, much to your annoyance.

“And how would you know? I doubt Hobi here has used his A+ game on you.” He raised an eyebrow in challenge, making you scoff as you rolled your eyes.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well… you guys are friends, I doubt he would try to pick you up.” He spoke with a logical tone, as he eyed you and Hoseok.

“Oh really? Okay Hobi. Since your game is so great. Let’s see it.” You turned around, staring at your friend next to you. Namjoon leaned back against his hands on the floor, watching the scene unfold with a smirk.

“Really darling? Don’t blame me when you fall for me.” Hoseok moved closer, finishing his drink as you huffed in annoyance. You were in your first stage of drunk, the stage where you got mean for no reason

“Get on with it, loser. Your face is making me drier as we speak.” You waved as Hoseok leaned in, his nose rubbing gently against your ear, his breath on your neck, making you shiver slightly.

“Hey baby, how about you let me take you downstairs and defile you on Jungkook’s Iron Man sheets.” His voice was low, almost a growl. You never thought you would hear Hoseok’s sexy pickup voice and you were sure that if you were someone who had not seen him whine and cling onto you after a few drinks, you’d be putty in his hand. Instead, you burst out laughing, doubling over with your hands on his thighs as tears of mirth filled your eyes. Not one to give up that easily, Hoseok continued.

“See. I’m a funny guy Y/N. Let me eat that pussy!” He couldn’t hold back any longer either, his voice breaking at the word pussy as he too devolved into a fit of laughter. His comment, however, broke Yoongi and Jieun out of their bubble as they looked up from their make out session, looks of horror on their faces.

“Please tell me you did not just say that Hobi!” Jieun chided, her voice shrill.

“That’s fucking disgusting.” Yoongi shivered as he drank more of his whiskey in an attempt to calm himself. Hoseok and you continued laughing at your friends’ reaction, the rest of the group joining in, except Namjoon who seemed to be watching the two of you with raised brows.

“Wait. I don’t get it. That should’ve worked.”

“Yeah dude. Y/N what the fuck? Let me eat that pussy!” Hoseok grabbed you by the shoulders, shaking you while screaming at your face, between giggles.

“Oh my god. I’m gonna get a stomach ache. Stop!” you wheezed, before turning to Namjoon. “Sorry dude. I’ve literally helped Hobi pee once. There’s no going back to sexy when you see him whine about forgetting how urinating works.”

“Yeah and no offence babe, but you literally had your hands on my dick and it was flaccid as hell.”

“You guys are weirdly close,” Namjoon commented, his face scrunched as he assessed you and Hoseok.

“You think they’re close, you should see her and Jungkook. They even slept together!” Jimin remarks finally sitting down after dancing by himself for the past twenty minutes.

“And it was fucking horrible. High five!” Jungkook leans over the coffee table to slap his hand against yours, the two of you giggling.

“What kind of incestuous group is this?” Namjoon remarked, sipping his drink before turning to you where he watched you leaned over the table as you still slapped your hand against Jungkook’s to the beat of the music. “So when’s my turn?”

“Excuse me?” You recoil away from Namjoon, almost jumping in Hoseok’s lap. Oh here it was; stage two of your drunk persona, anger. You felt it coursing in your veins at his insinuation. “Who the fuck do you think I am?”

“Apparently the group dick toucher.” He smirked again, that annoying lopsided smile that made his one dimple deepen in his cheek. “I promise I won’t be flaccid like Hobi was.”

“Okay! Y/N and I are going on a walk!” Hoseok exclaimed as he saw your fist clenched. He knew you were ten seconds away from punching Namjoon in the face, and he put his arms around your waist and easily hoisted you up, walking you to the front door.

“Hobi I swear to god, I’m gonna murder him.” You glared at Namjoon as he returned your heated stare with an easy smile and a wave.

“I know babe. So we’re going on a walk. Let’s go pick up some food, yeah?”

The two of you walked around the block to the nearest McDonalds, picking up an assortment of cheeseburgers and chicken nuggets for the party, even getting Namjoon what he wanted, despite your burning desire that he starve to death. By the time, you returned to the party and took a couple more shots you were sufficiently cheered up. Hoseok had that affect on you, calming your mood with his jokes and anecdotes. 

Cuddled with Hoseok as you sat between his legs on the couch, the two of you shared a vape as you let the weed settle in your bones with a mellow buzz. Jimin sat in front of you on the floor, leaning against you as you ran your hands through his hair, enjoying the soft fluff. You were so glad that he had decided to forego his usual hair wax today. You felt like you were in utter bliss, your annoyance with Namjoon long forgotten. That is until you tuned into his conversation with Jungkook - not that you had any choice, because even though he seemed to be talking to Jungkook, his eyes were pointed at you.

“I’m just saying capitalism is the reason you’re sitting here in this nice home. People who can’t afford healthcare or education just need to work harder. That’s how life works.” Namjoon sipped his drink, raising an eyebrow at you, and you decidedly ignored his baiting. It was like he was trying to get you mad on purpose. You didn’t understand his gameplan. Why couldn’t he just let you enjoy bringing in 2017 like an adult?

“Dude… why are we even talking about this?” Jungkook groaned, face scrunching in distaste.

“I’m just saying people shouldn’t look for a handout when there are literally thousands of skills they could learn to make their lives easier. Why are we using our tax dollars for the lazy?” Namjoon shrugged nonchalantly, his gaze boring holes into you as you stared him down. Oh curse your stupid resolve, why did this fucker know you so well, you literally just met! Before you could stop yourself, you were speaking.

“I’m sorry, are you stupid? That is literally the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard. Education and healthcare are a human right!” Your voice was louder than usual, startling Hoseok and Jimin as you suddenly stood up, walking over to where a smug looking Namjoon and a confused Jungkook sat on the floor.

“I’m not, but you must be, to not realize that we could invest in teaching people skills to make money instead of just giving them money. Don’t tell me you’re a communist.” He sipped his drink, his eyes dancing with mirth, relishing the fact that he had gotten you to argue. And argue you did, for over an hour, the room forgotten as the two of you discussed social policies and taxation laws, ignoring Jungkook’s protests (“We live in a social democracy!”). You could feel the fire in your veins as you raised your voice, while he calmly discussed the matter at hand. Even though Namjoon was the most infuriating person you had ever met, the fact that he kept up with your arguments was extremely satisfying. Your friends knew you were the kind of person to debate a point until all the sides were uncovered so they would never start an argument with you, and as much as you hated Namjoon, you loved that he was such a great sparring partner.

“Oh my god! Shut the fuck up!” Jimin yelled suddenly, breaking you and Namjoon out of your bubble, as you looked at your usually bubbly friend, staring daggers at you. You sheepishly apologized, just as the countdown began.

Everyone stood and you followed suit. However the alcohol in your body decided to catch up as you stumbled, instinctively grabbing on to Namjoon’s arm to not fall over. As you’ve started to realize is his ammo, he one-upped you, putting his arm around your waist and pulling you into his chest. Fuck, why does it feel so nice and firm?

The countdown got closer to one and you felt trapped by his gaze, an intense look in his eye as he smirked at you. His eyes travelled from your eyes to your lips and you felt as if your chest was getting tighter.

“Three!” your friends yelled, but your mouth felt too dry to speak up. You licked your lips and Namjoon’s smirk widened. Why did you find his arrogant face so attractive all of a sudden? You wanted to punch him not two seconds ago!

“Two!” He started to lean in and despite yourself, you started anticipating his lips on yours. 

“One!” Suddenly, your earlier resolve kicked in. No dude who insulted you all night was going to touch you. You pushed him off turning around to Jungkook.

“Happy New Year!” You pulled your best friend towards you by his collar, giving him a loud peck on the lips as everyone cheered. Jungkook smiled, pulling you into a hug and jostling you around, giving you a chance to catch the dumbfounded look on Namjoon’s face.

You hugged all of your friends in turn, and when Namjoon, still with his mouth slightly ajar, looked at you expectantly, you raised your hand to him with a smug smile. You kind of felt bad for the way he deflated before he shook your hand, but before you could dwell too much on that feeling, he tugged you closer.

“Well played,” he whispered in your ear, his breath ghosting your neck, and you felt heat rising up your neck. You pulled away with a scowl and before he could say anything else, your phone pinged, the screen lit with the last name you wanted to see.

Taehyung (3 messages)

Oh great. What did the fuck did he want?

-

masterlist | next

I hope you liked this! Let me know what you think. For more of my works visit my masterlist!

[goldenraeofsun]

If you’re still doing the fic prompts I’d love enemies to friends to lovers and isolated or trapped. I love your writing and I’m a sucker for enemies to lovers plot lines!

Hour 0

Dean stomps his feet on the mat, trying to get rid of the snow caking stubbornly to his boots. It was a two minute walk from where he carefully parked his baby several cars down the driveway of Charlie’s rented cabin, but Dean and Sam look like they’d just gone toe to toe with an avalanche. As the door opens, grins. “Did someone say video games?” 

Charlie beams as she accepts a hello hug from Sam. “Just in time!” she tells them, tugging them both inside. “Kevin and Garth got here ten minutes ago. Jo’s making a liquor run, and Castiel is finishing setting up Monopoly.”

Dean’s relieved grin at finally getting out of the cold falls off his face at Castiel’s name. “Seriously?”

“It’s a legit game,” Charlie chides as she directs them further into the luxurious cabin she and the rest of her birthday party guests rented for the long weekend, “more legit than Vampirates vs. Goulpires,” she mutters under her breath. Before Dean could defend his totally not made up RPG, she adds, “Anyway, he also brought Clue, Sorry, Uno, and Settlers of Catan, before you jump down his throat for Monopoly.”

Dean scowls but admits, “I guess it wouldn’t be game night without the rest.”

“Exactly,” Charlie says primly.

“Nice place,” Sam says, unravelling his scarf as he walks inside, marveling at the exposed wood and other home deco shit Dean couldn’t care less about. There aren’t creepy paintings with eyes that follow you around or mounted animal heads on the wall, so it’s all good in Dean’s book. The owners are people who probably go glamping.

“It was a steal at this time of the year,” Charlie says with a grin. “Who knew nobody wanted to freeze their asses off in the middle of nowhere in January?”

“Wifi?” Sam asks, already hopefully rooting around in his pocket for his phone.

“I didn’t ask,” Charlie says cheerfully. As Sam’s face falls, she swats him in the arm. “This is going to be a completely offline weekend - and that’s coming from me. Don’t be a baby about it.” 

Just before the threshold of the living room, Charlie tugs Dean off to the side. “Hey, wait a sec.” They listen for a second as Sam’s appearance causes a brief uproar in loud greetings. “I know you don’t like Castiel-”

“’Cause he’s a dick,” Dean shoots back automatically.

“-but play nice,” Charlie continues, rolling her eyes. “It’s my birthday, and we definitely don’t need any macho man contests, got it?”

“Got it,” Dean grumbles. “But-”

“What?”

“I’m not gonna be blamed if he starts it,” Dean says, and he would cross his arms across his chest if he wasn’t carrying two bags full of three extra controllers and six videogames. He settles for glaring down at Charlie imperiously since he’s got the height advantage.

“See,” Charlie rolls her eyes, “This is why I’m so glad I’m a lesbian.”

Hour 1.5

“Come on!” Dean howls as Castiel fishes out the wedged bills from underneath Free Parking. “He’s already bought half the board!”

Charlie looks up from reorganizing the bank’s haphazard stacks of ones, fives, tens, twenties, and fifties. Plus a pathetic two five-hundred bills. The rest are already owned by Castiel.

Sam, who’d already declared bankruptcy twenty minutes ago and was already halfway to getting sharked by Jo in a poker with Kevin and Garth, elbows him in the ribs. “Play nice,” he hisses.

“He started it,” Dean retorts right to Castiel’s smirking face.

“By winning?” Castiel asks in an innocent tone that doesn’t fool Dean in the fucking least.

“By being an asshole,” Dean says darkly.

Sam just elbows him again.

Charlie rolls her eyes.

Hour 2

“That’s it! I’m done!” Dean declares, throwing down his two measly properties he managed to keep ahold of. “Take all my goddamn money.”

“Gladly,” Castiel says smugly as he adds Dean’s precious deeds to his pile of cards.

Charlie slaps her hand against her forehead.

“Alright, it’s you and me angel boy,” Dorothy says, leaning across the board. “Bring it.”

Hour 3

Castiel’s face falls faster than Yoshi just fell off Rainbow Road.

Dean’s currently in the lead, but he’s not so distracted by his impending victory to miss Castiel totally failing at Mario Kart. He hasn’t broken the top three since they started playing forty-five minutes ago. Dean grins widely.

“Oh, shut up,” Castiel grumbles as his eyes flick from the controller to the nearest wall and back again.

Dean’s gaze doesn’t deviate from the screen. “I didn’t say anything, jackass.”

“Oh my fucking god,” Sam mutters as he lobs a green koopa shell at Dean’s Mario.

Mario careens off the road, Luigi speeding past.

Dean’s mouth falls open. “What the hell, Sammy?” 

“All’s fair in love and war and Mario Kart,” Sam recites dutifully, his tongue between his teeth as he fights to keep his lead from Charlie’s Toad.

Hour 3.5

“Seriously, Dean?” Castiel demands over the sound of mashing buttons. “We are on the same team.”

“My bad,” Dean says blithely as he hammers on Yoshi again instead of aiming for Luigi or Toad. They’re clearly going to lose, but Dean might as well make it fun for himself.

Plus, there’s nothing Sam likes least than playing a boring game of Super Smash Bros. Serves him right, for forcing Dean to be on a team with Castiel. Oh we can’t be on a team together, Dean, we’ve had too much practice. It wouldn’t be fair - Dean’s shapely ass.

“You are being completely unreasonable.”

“D’you know who whines, Cas?” Dean taunts as he bonks Luigi once in the head before wailing on Yoshi, “babies.”

Castiel bursts out, “Dammit, Dean!” as Yosi gets blasted off screen, no thanks to Mario.

Dean isn’t the least bit sorry when Castiel does finally throw his controller at the wall and storms into the kitchen for more alcohol.

Hour 4

“Give me those goddamn sheep!” Dean hollers as he brandishes three lumber cards and an ore in Castiel’s face. “I know you have them.”

“I might,” Castiel says calmly, “but that has no bearing on whether or not I wish to trade with you.”

“You need lumber for that road,” Dean reminds him testily.

“Dorothy has extra lumber she might be willing to trade me,” Castiel says, eyes narrowing.

Dorothy looks up from where she’d been whispering conspiratorially with Charlie. “Uh, Charlie just took my extra lumber. Sorry.”

Castiel glares daggers of betrayal at the pair of them. “I forfeit my turn,” he announces, crossing his arms across his chest like a toddler refusing to walk one more step further.

“Seriously?” Dean gapes. “You’ve got to be kidding.”

“I am not,” Castiel thunders. “This whole evening, you’ve been recalcitrant and a poor loser. I don’t see why I have to accommodate such behavior.”

Dean slams down his hand on the table, rattling “Of all the goddamn pretentious bullshit-”

“Woah,” Kevin interrupts, alarmed. “Come on, guys, this doesn’t have to be a big deal-”

Dean interrupts, “He made it a big deal when he refused to trade the sheep!”

“This is not about the sheep, and you know it, Dean Winchester,” Castiel says severely.

“Okay,” Charlie says loudly, her mouth set in a firm line. “Time out.”

“Yes, thank you,” Castiel says gratefully. “I could do with a break -”

“No, a time out, Charlie says, pointing unambiguously at Castiel and Dean, “You two, get out until you can play nice together.”

Read the rest here!

[shattersstar]

pairing: jason todd x reader

summary: you and jason are f*ck buddies and you decide to get wine drunk while in the bath (inspired by this post)

warnings: semi nsfw (aka no actual smut but y’all do be talking about it..like a lot), drinking, fluff, brief injury mention, friends to lovers vibes

a/n: this is just over 4k and idek how that happened. anyways check out my resources tag before or after reading this and feedback is always appreciated.

—

You appeared in the doorway, hipshot and a bottle of wine hung in one of your hands, fingers clutching the neck. The air was humid even from the entrance to the bathroom, the mirror fogged up and air thick. “Want me to turn on the fan?” You questioned from across the space, socked feet shifting through the threshold ever so slightly. You didn’t give a shit about the fan, not really, not when Jason was sitting in the bathtub a few feet away, naked and warm and he sent you a lazy smile. He shook his head no, chin jutting out in question, nodding towards the wine. “I was gonna get drunk on the couch and pass out here.”

“You aren’t going back to your place?”

“You want me to?” Another shuffle closer, bottle nudging your thigh as you moved.

“Do what you want.” He shrugged, water sloshing around him. You pulled your bottom lip between your teeth, as if debating your options. Of which there were three:

One, go back to your apartment, drink there if you wanted—you would—and deal with the arguing of your roommates who used to date.

Two, crash on his couch like you said and make him make you breakfast tomorrow. It was tempting.

And three, get in the tub with him and see where that takes you.

You knew where you wanted it to go, the same place most of your moments alone (or semi alone) lead too. It had become a steady occurrence for you two to casual fuck, even more so lately as you had been hiding out in Jason’s apartment. Your arguing roommates/exes had no problem dragging you into their fights, no matter what you were doing and often made you sleep on the couch so they could sleep in separate bedrooms. Jason had callously suggested telling them no, as if it was that easy. “It’s their place, and I’m sorta the reason they were sharing a bedroom in the first place.” You’d mutter, excuses falling from your lips until you’d crawl into his lap and apologize for staying over so often. He normally would just sigh and tell you it was fine. Part of him wanted to say more, to tell you he liked having you around, liked sharing his bed with you, liked everything about the crappy situation you found yourself in. But it was selfish and sentiment was always slow to rise through Jason’s chest, and slower to fall from his lips.

You hadn’t realized that a long moment had passed and the moisture in the air was starting to make your clothes stick to you. Your eyes fell back on him, his were closed, arms resting on either side of the tub. You traced his side profile with your gaze, skin shining with water, and the hair around the nape of his neck stuck to his skin as the bubble coated surface crept up his body with even the smallest shift of weight. You looked back to the rosé in your hand, shrugging small before crossing the space, kicking the door closed. It wasn’t for privacy—it wasn’t for anything you supposed. Jason lived alone, how he could afford it, you didn’t ask, and his neighbours were likely far accustomed to the private sounds you two shared that often leaked out from under doors and passed through walls. You blamed the hot body of water now a step away from you for the heat rising to your face.

You set the bottle down next to the tub, his eyes finally opening. The slam of the door didn’t disturb him, but the clink of glass against tile had him watching you. You didn’t say much as you straightened up, pulling off your socks, the shorts you found yourself in falling next. You yanked your t-shirt off, underwear the last thing to join the pile of clothes now dwelling on his bathroom floor. Jason’s eyes roamed over your body with a certain amount of casualness, it wasn’t hungry or flirtatious, it was just him taking you in like he had so many times before.

He still didn’t speak as you carefully dipped your foot into the hot water, finding the bottom of the tub and bringing your other leg over the side. He only bent his legs minimally, knees just poking out from under the water and caging each side of the tub. You didn’t object to the lack of space, you were invading his bath anyways. The water was almost painfully hot, shocking your system as you lowered yourself to sit across from him. The faucet prodded your back as you settled into the space, knees almost pulled to your chest. You let your hands sink next to you for a moment, before you were reaching over the side of the tub, soapy water rolling off your fingers as you plucked the bottle from where it sat. You had drank some of it earlier, sitting on the balcony and chatting idly with Jason. It was before the sun had set and you two had been sitting out there, before watching a documentary for one of your classes. You couldn’t remember how you ended up watching it with him, or why you were drinking beforehand, but all of that seemed far off now.

Far off as condensation rolled down the bottle, sweating in the humidity. You took a long, slow sip, the sweet, somewhat tart liquid slipping out the bottle and down your throat with ease. He was still watching you, head cocked slightly and gears in his brain turning. You could tell when he was reading you, thinking about aspects of you that you may never understand. His gaze was always a little intense, it sometimes made you squirm, and this was one of those moments. You pushed your shoulders back a little and held the bottle out between your two bodies. It was a little heavy, the rosé sagging into the bubbles. Jason breathed out a chuckle and took a sip of his own. He scowled ever so slightly, turning the label to face him and it was your turn to laugh.

“Stop buying cheap wine—it’s shit.” He huffed, although he did take another drink.

“I’ll stop buying cheap wine when I stop being broke.”

“Or I can give you money to buy something that doesn’t taste like depressed grapes.” You laughed again, although it was almost a scoff.

“First of all stop being a baby, this isn’t that bad and second of all I’m not gonna call you up every time I wanna buy liquor.” You explained, making grabby hands towards him. He handed you the wine with an eye roll.

“Why not?”

“What?”

“Half the time you drink it's here and I’m tired of having to drink whatever crappy stuff you buy.”

“I’m sorry my socioeconomic status offends you.” You teased, letting out a yelp when one of his hands wrapped around you shin and tugged your leg. He didn’t pull you under, only shifting you onto your tailbone before dragging your leg along the tile, draping it over his thigh.

“I just meant if you’re gonna get drunk here, drink whatever I have here instead of buying this dollar store shit.” He sighed, watching you grin from around the rim.

“I mean, I’m not one to deny free booze.”

“Of course you aren’t.”

“Hey,” You yanked the outstretched bottle back, pouting at him. “Still don’t appreciate you saying this stuff is shit though.”

“I’ll make it up to you later,” You raised a brow, it worked another eye roll out of him. “You get mouthy when you drink.” He sounded as exasperated as before, although there was a tinge of amusement in his voice. You only snorted, passing the wine to him. You spent some time just passing the bottle back and forth, sometimes talking or sometimes letting the soft sound of the water drift around your bodies. At some point you hadn’t taken the bottle back from him, shifting till your back pressed into the corner of the tub, faucet now jabbing your arm. You tilted your head back, bare chest rising and falling in slower breaths. Jason set the rosé onto the bathroom floor at some point, one of his hands searching under the water for the leg rested against his. Water rolled over his hands as his fingers wrapped around your ankle, giving it a gentle squeeze. Your eyes blinked open, your head looked heavy as you lifted it from against the slick walls.

“Just seeing if you’re awake.” He hummed, noting the way your other leg stretched out over him. You shifted forward slightly, feet planting on otherside of his body as you sank under the surface, back sliding against the tiles and knees bending. Your dunked your body under until your head bumped the bottom, a few seconds passed before you were sitting back up, now in the centre of the tub.

“I am now.” You smiled as water rolled down your face.

“You’re something else.” He declared, strong hands coming to rest on your knees and giving them a gentle pinch. Your eyes dropped to his left hand, a scar trailed from in between his thumb and index finger, curling down towards his wrist. It was long and sinewy, like a vine that staggered across his hand. There were small bruises and other scars one wouldn’t notice at first glance, but you had become accustomed to them. Used to watching his hands as they moved with a catlike sneakiness, always searching, always ready to tease. There had been more than one occasion when your own hand darted out to grasp his wrist without even looking at him. You could be eating at the mall or sitting in his car at a red light and his curious hands were always trailing towards you.

Sometimes you’d swat them away, with an indurated glare. And he’d reply with that stupid smirk, eyes glinting as if to say, do you really want me to stop? Most of the time the answer was no, but you couldn’t always give so easily into him, not when it was so fun not too.

Now though, his hands weren’t wandering, they stayed rested on you, warm and heavy. You liked something about this Jason, the tipsy, relaxed version of him you rarely saw. It was either sex or friends just hanging out, and this felt like something blurring both those lines. It was intimate and naked, but it was friendly and sweet. It made your mind swirl, but that also could be the alcohol slowly burning through your system. Something about all of the thoughts running and tripping over themselves in your head made a giggle bubble pass your lips, earning another squeeze.

“What?” He wondered as your shoulders shook.

“Just thinking about you doing this with other people—couldn’t imagine it.” You laughed, head shaking as he furrowed his brows at you.

“This? As in you inviting yourself—“

“Hey, hey, don’t get mean I meant it nicely.” You leaned forward, pressing a finger to his lips. He finally moved his hands from where they grounded you, slapping it away from his face playfully. “It’s nice that we get to do this—not many people can just sit around in baths with friends.” You explained better.

“But,” He licked his lips, straightened up slightly, as if the words would pull from his throat easier, “Why would you think I’d do it with other people?”

Oh.

You shrugged, “I dunno, guess I didn’t think I was the only person you were…” Suddenly any word to describe what you and Jason were left a bad taste in your mouth, fucking felt too vulgar, sex sounded too direct and making love was definitely not an option. “Doing whatever we're doing with?”

“Fantastic english.”

“Shut up, y’get what I mean.”

He only hummed in response, a look too thoughtful for the daze expression you wore fell over his face.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“Then why’re you looking at me like that?”

“It’s nothing.” You splashed a handful of water at him, letting out a head thrown back, almost shrieking sort of laugh at the unamused expression on his face. “Seriously?”

“C’mon tell me.” You whined, laughter dying down.

“Fine. C’mere,” His voice was all low and caramel—warm and sweet—as he beckoned you to him. You didn’t even hesitate, moving closer and letting him pull you into his lap, knees pressing to the floor of the bath and upper half rising out of the water before he sat you on his thighs. Goosebumps rippled your skin as the air—cooler now—rolled over your skin before you sank back into the water. Your bare chest brushed his, the water flowing between your two bodies and rising as he pulled you close. One of his hands stayed on the side of your thigh, the other trailed up your arm, setting on the side of your neck, thumb coming up to rest on your jaw. Your arms were wrapped around the broad expanse of his shoulders, one of your hands rested on the nape of his neck, fingers toying with the wet hairs there.

“I was thinking that why would I wanna fuck anyone else when I have you?” He admitted, a confessional spoken so casually, that you knew the wine had affected him at least somewhat. Sometimes it was hard to tell, but from the soft touches to tender confessions, it was easy to pinpoint where your rugged and reserved Jason tapered off into a muted version of himself. Like all the parts he kept hidden, too kind for the world he lived in, for the person he had become suddenly seeped out and it made you feel boneless and a little lovesick around him.

“That’s probably because your fucking me every waking minute.” You teased despite the dopey smile you wore, forehead resting on his.

“I’m not right now.”

A beat.

“You could.” Your voice was distant, like you were indifferent about the suggestion, because you were.

“Is that why you didn’t wanna leave?” He was so full of questions you realized as well. It seemed most days he knew what you were going to do before you did it, that he could read you like a book—not that you made it particularly hard anyways. And yet, a little drunk and sleepy underneath you, Jason didn’t seem interested in higher thinking, letting the questions and whatever else fall from his mouth with little care where they landed.

You pulled back a little, watching him, “I mean that’s always a benefit about being here,” You explained, feeling the laugh he let out more than hearing it, “But I dunno, you said it earlier I’m here a lot and there’s like no stressors here.”

“Ah—forgot about your roommates.”

“Yeah, plus I was gonna ask you to make my breakfast if I did get drunk and pass out on the couch like planned.” Your admission was lighthearted, but you felt his hand on your thigh tighten, just slightly.

“I wouldn’t have let you sleep on the couch.” He muttered, the hand on your neck sliding to cradle your jaw, your stomach twisting in the way only he could manage, “Not when you look so good in my bed.”

A chill ran up your spine, leave it to Jason to leave you breathless no matter what state he was in. You let your gaze fall to the space between your bodies, that was until he tilted your chin up and brought your lips to his. He was grinning into the kiss, the hand on your thigh now on the curve of your spine, pressing over so gentle into the wet skin. You let your eyes fall closed as he continued to kiss you, arms wrapping further around him as he brought you closer, the slightest pressure on your back and you shifted against him with ease. Soon your chests were flush, rising and falling in tandem. Jason mumbled something you did quite catch, his arms hugging around your frame, keeping you against him as he sank deeper into the bath, his head coming to rest on the edge and stretching out as best he could in the small space. You rested your head in the crook of his neck, water just at your chin now. His hands splayed on your back, fingers traced idly shapes as you let the tiredness that he pulled you from tug at the corners of your mind again.

You weren’t sure if you had fallen asleep, or just focused on the sound of his breathing and the soft patterns he drew against your skin, but you do remember coming back to reality as he carefully sat back up after some time. He made sure to pull you up with him, maneuvering you with ease. Soon your back was to his chest, his chin resting atop your head and his encircled you once again, hands clasping over yours against your middle. You adjusted yourself against his chest, relaxing your weight into him and detangling the mess of hands that rested in front of you so you could hold one of Jason’s. He obliged easily, his left hand intertwining with yours, his right forearm residing just under your chest and keeping you close, and likely upright. You didn’t mind the contact, the pressure of him against you in the slightest. It was different from what you were used to, and yet you welcomed it all the rest.

Once again you let the edges of your consciousness taper off, fading into something distant and calming. You definitely fell asleep that time, as you rouse when a hand lightly lightly squeezed your chest, his palm sliding from the soft skin to your neck, tilting your head out of the way as his lips moved from the nape of your neck to your shoulder. His tongue slid over the damp skin, biting into it when you nearly dozed back off. “We fell asleep.” He breathed against the side of your neck, kisses peppered there were followed by another softer, lazier bite.

“We?” You groaned, tone groggy.

“Is there anyone else here?” You only shook your head, not aware enough to pick up on the sarcasm. The lips moving against your skin didn’t help either, not when he moved your head to rest on his collarbone, lips finding yours. He wasted no time licking his way past your lips, tongue dragging across yours, exploring the inside of your mouth. He pulled away to twist you in his lap, kissing you hard once again. If you weren’t delirious from sleep, it definitely was because of him now. His tongue swiped the roof of your mouth and ran along the blunt edge of your teeth. The hand he used to adjust you so pilantly to his liking now rested against the column of your throat, flexing when you sighed against his lips. It was breathy and needy and you were too tired and still a little drunk to care.

“Water’s cold.” You found yourself saying as his lips pressed into the corner of your mouth.

“It is.” He agreed, biting into your bottom lip you barely noticed was pouting. “You’re such a tired little thing.”

“Kinda drunk too.”

“I can tell.”

“Ouch.” You were beaming despite your words, blinking up at him, nose judging his jaw. He was warmer than the water which made your bones feel heavy, all the airy suds now vanished. “What time is it?”

“How would I know?” You picked up on his tone then, pulling your brows together until he exhaled a chuckle against the juncture where your neck met your shoulder. He buried his face in there, seeking out warmth as well. “Can you get up?”

“Yeah.”

“Good, c’mon I wanna go to bed.” Despite his words the hand that crossed your body, now fallen to you solar plexus stayed unmoved and he kept breathing you in. You had no objections to staying here, despite the goosebumps riddling your skin and the shiver building in the base of your spine. After a loud inhale, your body rising with the expansion of his broad chest he pulled away from you, ushering you forward slightly. You scrubbed a hand over your face, trying to focus on the task at hand: getting up. You went to gather your legs underneath you, one hand resting on the outer edge of the tub when Jason rose from behind you. Water dripped off his body and fell onto you as you dumbly sat in the bath water. “Why’d you say you could get up?” He asked, wrapping a towel around his waist before moving back to you.

You frowned up at him, “I can.”

“Then why haven’t you?”

“It’s been like four seconds!” You exclaimed, only earning a click of his tongue before he bent over to haul you out of the water. You stepped over the side with ease, his strong hands gripping the sides of your arm, one coming to wrap around the curve of your elbow as you stood up straight. Once you were steady enough he passed you a towel, which you quickly pulled around your body. You let a shudder wrack your body, and without much of a word he was pulling you against him. You greedily obliged, hands wrapped around his frame, fingers spread on his naked back. “What did you say earlier?”

“I said a lot of things, whic—“

“Something about me drinking.”

“That you get mouthy?”

“Yeah, yeah that. Y’know what you get?” You looked up at him, chin resting on his chest.

“What?”

“Touchy.”

“Touchy?” He echoed.

“Yeah, I mean you kinda always are, but s’not like this.” He didn’t respond, eyes drifting from your face. Maybe you got intuitive when you were drunk too. “I like this though.”

“You do?”

“Mmhm, s’nice.” Your words blended together as you let Jason lean over and press a kiss to your forehead. You let yours eyes fall closed, resting most of your weight against him.

“Hey you better not fall asleep, I’m not carrying you to bed.”

“Ever the romantic.” You pulled yourself from him, about to turn around and gather your clothes from the floor, but Jason’s hand wrapped around yours and was tugging you out of the bathroom. “Wait—m’clothes—“

“Leave them.” He called over his shoulder, leading you towards his bedroom and softly pushing you to sit on his bed. He left you for a moment, heading to drain the bath you supposed. After a moment he passed by the bedroom door, wine bottle in hand. You could hear the sound of it hitting the recycling bin before he reappeared. Jason looked a little unimpressed when he found you still sitting there. “You can get in bed y’know.”

“And sleep in a wet towel?”

“Or in nothing.” He shrugged, your ears suddenly hot as he stood between your legs, both hands cupping your face. “Don’t wanna have to work to fuck you in the morning.”

You opened and closed your mouth twice before nodding at his words, “Should’ve led with that.”

“Duly noted, now go to sleep.” He kissed you again, lips pressing firm to yours. You and Jason weren’t really the kissing type, sure you’d make out with him on occasion, but it felt too intimate for what you two had become. It was more of an unspoken rule, and it sometimes happened, but never outside the confines of sex. And he was promising to fuck you come morning, but now wasn’t morning and he was kissing you—another side effect from the rosé, you distantly assumed—and it felt right.

He pulled away when your head started to lull back, as if it was too heavy for your neck to support. You let him untuck the towel and slip it from your body. Parts of you were still damp from the bath, but you didn’t care as you slipped under his duvet, hauling it to your ears and sinking into one of his pillows. You were sure you were asleep before you finished rolling onto your side, the heavy fog of exhaustion, liquor and a calm night lulling you to sleep. You didn’t even rouse as Jason joined you, thumb brushing away a stray droplet that drifted from your hairline down your cheek bone. He kissed your forehead once again, letting the rarity of an easy sleep wash over him as well.