#BROTHER WE ARE NOT ENEMIES WE ARE ONE IN THE SAME DEEP DOWN WE ARE FIGHTING FOR THE SAME THING SO WE CAN SEE NON CONVENTIONAL FORMS OF

[lunaswicked]

Sweet Talk

Paring: College!Jimmy Uso x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 5k

Summary: Two roommates— You and Jimmy—find yourselves caught in a whirlwind of tension, desire, and unspoken feelings. What begins as teasing and frustration between you evolves into a night of unexpected intimacy that blurs the lines between hate and attraction.

Tags: enemies to smutville😫, roommates, 18+, p in v, teasing, dirty talking, 9 incher jimmy uso, dickstressing, AND WHATEVER ELSE, ENJOY😋

You and Jimmy rarely saw eye to eye. It wasn’t that you outright despised each other, but the two of you had a way of constantly butting heads over the smallest things. Maybe it was because you were both stubborn, or maybe it was because neither of you ever backed down from an argument. Either way, there was always a tension between you—one that never seemed to fade no matter how much time passed.  

Both of you were college students, navigating your own paths, yet your lifestyles couldn’t have been more different. You poured yourself into your studies, determined to excel in every class, while Jimmy had an almost single-minded obsession with football—both playing it and watching it. If he wasn’t on the field, he was glued to the screen, yelling at players who couldn’t hear him or analyzing plays with the kind of intensity most people reserved for final exams.  

When he wasn’t fixated on football, he’d be locked in his room, spending hours on whatever video game he and his twin brother, Jey, were obsessed with that month. It was almost impossible to get a word in when he was deep in competition mode, his focus unwavering as he trash-talked through his headset. Sometimes, it felt like college itself was just a background noise in his life, something he did because he had to—not because he cared.  

But despite all of that, you knew Jimmy was smart. In fact, he was one of the smartest people you knew, even if he didn’t always act like it. He had a sharp mind, a quick wit, and an ability to break things down in a way that made even the most complicated subjects seem simple. The problem was, hardly anyone ever got to see that side of him. He didn’t apply himself the way he could have, and more often than not, he played the role of the carefree guy who only lived for football and video games.  

"I'm not going. I got lab tomorrow," you said into your phone, shifting against the pillows as you tucked yourself deeper into bed.  

Bianca groaned dramatically on the other end. "Girl, you always busy! Every time I call, it's the same thing—lab this, assignment that. And don’t even get me started on how you be stuck in that house with Jimmy all the damn time."  

You rolled your eyes, even though she couldn’t see you. "First of all, I am not stuck with Jimmy. We just happen to live in the same space. Not like I have a choice."  

"Uh-huh, sure. And yet, every time I ask you to come out, you got an excuse, and he's always somewhere in the background, being annoying," Bianca shot back. "One day, imma just pull up and kidnap you, no warning."  

You laughed, shaking your head. "And do what? Drag me out in my pajamas? Not happening."  

"Don’t test me. I’ll snatch you right up, bonnet and all," she teased. "Seriously, though. You need a break. When’s the last time you had fun? Like, actual fun. Not school, not arguing with Jimmy—fun."  

You hesitated, chewing on your lip. It had been a while since you let loose, but between school, deadlines, and dealing with Jimmy’s daily antics, going out just felt like another task on your already overflowing to-do list.  

"Exactly," Bianca said, as if she could hear your thoughts through the phone. "Look, just think about it. Even geniuses like you need a night off."  

You sighed, glancing toward your closed bedroom door, where you could still faintly hear Jimmy and Jey shouting at their game. "I’ll think about it."  

"That’s what you said last time," Bianca huffed. "I ain't falling for it again. You better show up, or I will come get you."  

You smiled, shaking your head. "We’ll see, B. We’ll see."  

She let out an exaggerated groan but didn’t push it further. "Fine, but don’t think I’m letting this go. I’ll call you tomorrow, and you better give me a yes."  

"Goodnight, Bianca," you said, smirking.  

"Mmhm, whatever. Goodnight, miss I got lab."  

You hung up, staring at the ceiling with a small smile. Maybe she had a point.

Your stomach let out an impatient grumble, loud enough to make you sigh in frustration. You hadn’t eaten in hours, and at this point, there was only one thing that could fix it—a slice of your favorite vanilla cake with extra whipped cream. The thought alone was enough to get you out of bed, pushing aside your tiredness as you made your way down the hall toward the kitchen.

The house was quieter than usual, with only the faint hum of the refrigerator and the distant noise of the TV from the living room. Normally, Jimmy would be in there, glued to whatever game had his attention for the night, but the lack of his usual shouting made you pause. Maybe he had finally gone to bed for once? That would be a miracle.

But as soon as you stepped into the kitchen, that hope vanished.

Standing by the open fridge, fork in hand, was Jimmy—mid-bite, chewing your cake like he didn’t have a single care in the world. Wearing a fitted black shirt with yellow shorts that showed too much thigh.

You stopped dead in your tracks, your brain needing an extra second to process the sheer disrespect of what you were witnessing.

"You gotta to be fucking wit' me," you said, your voice flat.

Jimmy turned his head slowly, fork still in his mouth, his expression completely unbothered. He raised an eyebrow as he chewed, finally swallowing before answering. "What?"

Your arms crossed tightly over your chest as you stared him down. "That was my cake, Jimmy."

He had the nerve to glance down at the plate in his hand, then back up at you with a smirk. "You sure about that?"

You let out an exasperated breath, stepping closer. "Yes, I’m sure. I’ve been thinking about that cake all damn day. It was the last slice!"

Jimmy shrugged, taking another slow, deliberate bite, as if to rub it in. "Was the last slice. Past tense."

Your jaw dropped. "You are actually the worst person I know."

He chuckled, licking a bit of whipped cream off his fork. "Damn. All this over some cake?"

You threw up your hands. "Jimmy, I needed that cake."

"You needed it?" he repeated, clearly amused. "You make it sound like life or death."

"It is!" you shot back. "I’ve had a long day, and all I wanted was to sit down, enjoy my damn cake, and go to bed happy. But noooo, because somebody just had to be greedy."

Jimmy leaned back against the counter, arms crossed, looking entirely too entertained. "Sounds like a you problem. You shoulda got here faster or sum."

"Or you could’ve just not eaten something that wasn’t yours," you snapped.

He shrugged again. "You ain't put yo name on it."

Your eye twitched. "We don’t do that in this house, Jimmy. Because normal people have respect."

Jimmy let out an exaggerated sigh, rolling his eyes as he scooped up a piece of cake with his fork. Slowly, deliberately, he strolled toward you, a smug smirk playing on his lips.  

“Here,” he said, holding the fork out in front of you, the fluffy vanilla cake and whipped cream practically taunting you. “You wanna bite?”  

Your arms folded over your chest, and you scoffed, giving him a sharp glare. “I’d rather die before I eat off of you,” you shot back, your voice dripping with defiance.  

Jimmy chuckled, tilting his head as he took another step closer. “Dramatic much?” he teased.  

You held your ground, eyes locked onto his, but the way he was staring at you—intense, playful, like he was daring you—sent a strange shiver down your spine. 

He took another step, closing the space between you, his free hand lazily slipping into the pocket of his shorts. He was close now, too close. You could smell the faint mix of his cologne and the sweet vanilla lingering on his breath.  

“What’s wrong?” he murmured, voice low, taunting. “Scared you’ll like it?”  

Your stomach tightened, but you forced yourself to scoff again, turning your head to the side. “Please, as if.”  

Jimmy let out a soft chuckle, lifting the fork slightly. “Then prove it.”  

You swallowed, glancing at the fork, then back at him. His eyes held something unreadable—dark amusement, challenge. You could feel your own stubbornness warring with the stupid, undeniable craving in your stomach.  

Your eyes flicked back to the cake, the whipped cream looking way too good to pass up.  

He smirked, sensing your hesitation. “C’mon, I ain't got all night,” he murmured, voice smooth, teasing.  

You clenched your jaw, irritation flaring, but your hunger was stronger than your pride. Damn it.  

With an exasperated sigh, you snatched his wrist, steadying his hand as you leaned in. You hesitated for half a second before finally parting your lips and taking the bite off the fork, your tongue barely brushing against the metal.  

Jimmy stilled.  

Your eyes flicked up to his as you pulled away, chewing slowly, the sweet vanilla and cream melting on your tongue.  

For a moment, neither of you spoke.  

His expression darkened just slightly, his smirk fading into something slower, heavier. His tongue flicked out to wet his lips as he stared at you, watching the way your lips closed around the fork before you finally pulled back.  

Something about the look in his eyes sent a heat crawling up your neck, your stomach twisting in a way that had nothing to do with the cake.  

You swallowed, shifting on your feet. “Happy now?” you muttered.  

Jimmy’s smirk returned, slow and knowing. He tilted his head, his voice dropping an octave.  

“Could’ve just said you wanted a taste,” he murmured.  

Your breath hitched, but you quickly covered it with an eye roll, shoving his wrist away as you stepped back.  

“Shut up, Jimmy.”  

He let out a low chuckle, his smirk never fading as he twirled the fork between his fingers. His eyes stayed locked on yours, dark amusement mixed with something else—something heavier, something that made your pulse tick faster than it should have.  

"You act like you hate me," he murmured, stepping just a fraction closer, his body heat now palpable. "But here you go, eatin' off my fork."  

Your throat felt dry, but you forced yourself to roll your eyes. "I was starving, Jimmy. Don’t flatter yourself."  

He tilted his head slightly, eyes flickering between your lips and your gaze, his smirk deepening. "Mmm, nah. I think you just wanted to see what I taste like."  

Your breath caught, heart slamming against your ribs.  

"You are so full of yourself," you muttered, stepping back, but you barely moved an inch before he closed the gap again, this time with purpose.  

The air shifted—suffocating, electric. You could hear the faint drip of the kitchen sink, the hum of the refrigerator, but it all faded beneath the way Jimmy was watching you. Like he had all the time in the world to unravel you piece by piece.  

"You sure about that?" he murmured, voice low, velvety smooth.  

His free hand brushed against your hip—not fully touching, just ghosting over the fabric of your shorts, enough to send a shiver through you.  

You should have stepped away. Should have said something cutting, something to kill whatever this was. But your body wasn’t listening.  

Jimmy noticed.  

His smirk flickered into something darker, his fingers grazing up your waist, featherlight, testing, waiting for you to stop him.  

You didn’t.  

A slow, knowing hum left his lips. “Thought so,” he murmured, voice dropping even lower.  

Your breath came a little quicker, your skin tingling beneath his touch. Your body was betraying you, leaning into the heat of him.

His fingers finally landed on your chin, tilting it up slightly, forcing you to meet his gaze. His eyes were unreadable—dangerous, teasing, but there was something else simmering beneath them. Something that sent your stomach twisting in the worst, best way.  

"You wanna taste somethin' sweet?" he murmured, his thumb barely brushing over your bottom lip. "I can give you more than just cake."  

Your breath hitched, fingers tightening at your sides.  

You just stood there. Frozen. Trapped under his gaze.  

Jimmy leaned in, slow enough for you to stop him, to push him away, but you didn’t. The warmth of his breath ghosted over your lips, his presence consuming every inch of space between you.  

Every nerve was alight, your breath coming shallow and uneven as Jimmy inched closer, the space between you shrinking to nothing. The scent of vanilla and his cologne wrapped around you, thick and intoxicating.  

"You gonna stop me?" he murmured, his lips barely brushing against yours as he spoke, his voice low, teasing.  

You should’ve. But you didn’t move. You couldn’t.  

His thumb dragged over your bottom lip, slow, deliberate, like he was testing you, waiting for any sign of resistance. When he found none, his smirk deepened, and then—  

His lips brushed yours.  

Not a full kiss, just a whisper of contact, enough to send a sharp jolt straight through you. Your breath hitched, and Jimmy noticed.  

"You’re shaking," he murmured, his free hand sliding up your side, fingers grazing your ribs, your waist—barely there, but enough to make your skin erupt in goosebumps.  

"I’m n-" You swallowed hard, but the words died in your throat.  

He took advantage of your hesitation, closing the distance entirely. His lips pressed against yours, slow at first, testing, teasing. His grip on your waist tightened, pulling you closer, his body heat seeping into you, his hand tracing up your spine like he wanted to memorize every inch of you.  

The moment you responded, the moment you gave in and let your lips move against his, it was over.  

Jimmy deepened the kiss, his tongue sweeping over your bottom lip before slipping past, claiming your mouth like he had every right to. His grip turned possessive, his fingers digging into your waist as he pressed you back against the counter.  

You let out a soft gasp against his mouth, and he groaned in response, swallowing the sound like it belonged to him.  

"You taste better than that damn cake," he muttered against your lips, nipping at your bottom lip just hard enough to make your stomach flip.  

A shiver ran through you, and your fingers instinctively gripped the front of his shirt, holding onto him like he was the only thing keeping you upright.  

"Jimmy, we cant—" you breathed, but it came out weak, needy, nothing like the warning you meant for it to be.  

"Shhh," he murmured, his lips trailing from your mouth to your jaw, then lower, grazing the sensitive spot just below your ear. "I got you, baby."  

The nickname sent a new wave of heat through you, your body arching into him before you could think twice about it. His hands slid lower, fingers pressing into your hips, gripping you like he had no intention of letting go.  

"You still wanna act like you hate me?" he whispered against your skin, his breath hot, his voice dripping with amusement and something deeper.  

You should’ve said yes. Should’ve pushed him away. Should’ve told him this was wrong.  

But the only thing that left your lips was a soft, breathless whimper.  

Jimmy chuckled, dark and knowing.  

"Yeah," he muttered, his teeth grazing your skin before he kissed you again, slower this time, deeper. "That’s what I thought."

You knew it was a bad idea, knew you were crossing a line that could never be uncrossed, but still, you couldn’t stop. The feel of his lips against yours, the way he held you close, the pressure of his body pressing against yours—everything felt too good to resist.

You’d always found ways to make excuses, to stay just out of reach. The random times you’d bug him when you needed something opened, pretending it was just too difficult for you to handle on your own. You'd act annoyed, making a big show of how "helpless" you were, even though it was never actually hard. It was just an excuse, a reason to get him close to you. He’d always tease you about it, calling you out on how dramatic you were, but there was a flicker of something else in his eyes when he did, something you’d always ignored or tried to explain away. 

Then there were the times he’d bring girls over, just to sit around in the living room, loud and carefree, as if they didn’t matter to him. The jealousy it stirred inside you was a dangerous thing. You’d play it cool, roll your eyes and pretend you didn’t care. But you did. You cared so much that it burned. It wasn’t about them, not really. It was the way he’d be with them—too casual, too friendly, not even a hint of what he shared with you. He’d stay in the living room with them for hours, laughing, talking like you weren’t there, almost like he was flaunting it. 

Every time he brought a girl around, he’d still somehow find ways to be around you. He wouldn’t let you slip away completely, not with the way he’d casually touch your arm when passing by, or the way his eyes would seek you out in a room full of people. It was almost like he wanted you to be jealous, wanted to see that spark of emotion flash in your eyes when he paid attention to someone else. But he never made a move on them. Not really. You had to wonder if he was testing you, pushing your boundaries to see how far you'd go. Or maybe, in some twisted way, he was giving you the space to make a move of your own. 

Now, there was no going back. 

His lips pulled away just long enough for you to catch your breath, his forehead resting against yours as you both tried to steady your racing hearts. His fingers were still tangled in your hair, and his other hand had drifted to your lower back, pulling you closer into him. You could feel the heat of him through the thin fabric of your clothes. You could feel everything.  

“You know this is crazy, right?” you whispered, your voice shaky, unsure if you were asking him or telling yourself. 

His eyes met yours again, dark and intense, and he gave a small, crooked grin. “Yeah,” he murmured, his thumb brushing over your lip again. “Maybe it’s what we need, ma.”

That was the problem. It wasn’t just about him. It wasn’t just about you. It was about both of you. And maybe you both had always known this would happen. Maybe you both had been waiting for the other to make the first move.

His hand slid up beneath your oversized tee, fingers trailing against your bare skin, igniting a trail of heat in their wake. Your breath hitched, your body reacting to his touch before your mind could catch up. And god—he looked so damn good in those glasses. He rarely wore them, but when he did, it did something to you, something dangerous. It wasn’t just the way they framed his sharp features, or the way they made him look even more intense. It was the way they added to that quiet, confident arrogance of his—the way he knew exactly how they affected you.

Your lips parted, and without even thinking, you bit down on your bottom lip, trying to contain the rush of anticipation flooding through you. His eyes darkened at the sight, his pupils dilating with hunger. A low, guttural moan rumbled from his chest, deep and intoxicating, sending a shiver down your spine.

Before you could process it, he moved—swift, effortless, like he’d done it a thousand times before. His strong hands gripped your thighs, lifting you with no effort at all. You gasped, your arms instinctively wrapping around his shoulders as he set you down onto the cool marble countertop. 

He didn’t hesitate. His lips crashed into yours again, hungrier this time, more demanding. His hands gripped your ass firmly, pulling you flush against him, and you could feel every hard line of his body pressing into you. Your fingers tangled into his hair, tugging just enough to earn another groan from him, the sound vibrating through his chest and into yours.

“Fuck,” Jimmy mumbled against your lips, his voice thick with something between frustration and need. His hands roamed your sides, fingers digging into your skin like he was trying to ground himself. Your breaths mingled, heavy and uneven, as your hands moved instinctively to the hem of your shorts, pushing them down until they slipped off your legs and pooled onto the floor.

It had been over a year—too long since anyone had touched you like this. And yet, a single kiss from the one man you swore you couldn’t stand had you wetter than anyone ever had. It didn’t make sense. It was crazy. But you didn’t care.

Jimmy broke the kiss, his gaze trailing down your body until it settled on your yellow lace thong. The way his jaw clenched, the way his eyes darkened—it sent a rush of heat straight through you. You didn’t even have to look down to know how hard he was. His breathing was labored, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he undid his pants, never once breaking eye contact.

“You hate me for real, huh?” His voice was low, teasing, but thick with something deeper, something desperate.

Your eyes locked onto his, and you forced out a soft, defiant, “Mhm.” But it came out as a whimper, betraying the war raging inside you.

His smirk was slow, knowing. “Yeah?”

Before you could say anything else, his pants and boxers hit the floor, and your breath hitched.

Your pulse pounded in your ears, your fingers twitching against the countertop as anticipation curled low in your stomach.

And that’s when you felt it—the hard press of him against you, only the thin lace of your thong keeping you apart. A sharp gasp slipped past your lips, swallowed instantly by his mouth as he kissed you deeper, his hands gripping your thighs, keeping you locked in place. Your fingers curled into his shoulders, nails digging in as a shudder ran through you.  

“You still hate me?” he murmured, his voice teasing but rough, his breath hot against your lips.  

Your eyes fluttered open, locking onto his, clouded with a mix of defiance and something dangerously close to surrender. “Ye—yeah,” you mumbled, though the tremble in your voice betrayed you.  

His smirk was slow, knowing. His grip tightened, his fingers flexing against your hips. “Bet”  

Before you could say anything else, he stretched you—slow, deliberate, making sure you felt every inch of his dick claiming you. Your mouth fell open, a soundless moan escaping as your body arched into him. His forehead rested against yours, both of you caught in the moment, breathing each other in.  

Your hands clutched at his back, nails dragging along his skin as he pulled you impossibly closer, filling you to the hilt. The heat, the tension, the months of unspoken rivalry and buried longing—it all exploded into something neither of you could stop now.  

And you didn’t want to.

Jimmy moved slowly, setting a rhythm that had your breath hitching with every deep, calculated stroke. You were used to men who rushed, who chased their own pleasure without thinking about yours. But Jimmy—he took his time, like he had something to prove. Like he wanted you to feel every inch of what he was doing to you.  

A shaky breath escaped your lips as your fingers curled against his shoulders. “J-Jimmy…”  

His grip tightened on your hips, his mouth ghosting over the shell of your ear. “What, baby?” His voice was thick, teasing, but there was something raw beneath it.  

You swallowed hard, your body betraying you as you arched into him. “I—” Your words faltered, another breathy whimper slipping free as he rocked into you again, slow and deep.  

He chuckled lowly, his lips trailing down your jaw, pressing lazy kisses along your skin. “You always talk back, always got somethin’ smart to say,” he murmured, his voice sending a shiver down your spine. His hands slid up your sides, fingertips brushing under your oversized tee. “But look at you now… all quiet for me.”  

Your nails dug into his back, frustration bubbling in your chest. “Shut up,” you muttered, your voice barely a whisper.  

Jimmy smirked against your skin, his grip tightening. “Nah, you love this shit,” he murmured. “Ain’t nobody ever taken their time with you, huh? Always quick, always rough… but that’s not what you need.”  

You bit your lip, refusing to admit how right he was.  

He pulled back just enough to look you in the eyes, his expression dark, hungry. “When a man really wanna fuck a woman, he don’t rush it. He wanna feel that pussy. That’s the whole fuckin’ point, mama.”  

A shudder ran through you, your breath coming out in short, uneven gasps. He was ruining you, and he knew it.  

“Tell me you still hate me,” he whispered, a smirk playing on his lips as he rolled his hips just right.  

You wanted to. You wanted to hold onto that last shred of defiance. But all that left your lips was a shaky, breathless moan.

His grip tightened as he leaned in, lips brushing over the shell of your ear. “Say it,” he murmured, voice thick with control. “Tell me you don’t hate me, baby.”  

Your breath hitched, every nerve in your body on fire. “I—I don’t hate you, Jimmy,” you panted, barely able to form the words as his dick hit every sweet spot in your body.  

He hummed in satisfaction, his hands gripping your thighs, keeping you right where he wanted. “Mmh, I know,” he rasped, his dark gaze locked onto yours. “You just needed some dick, didn’t you?”  

Your heart pounded, fingers digging into his shoulders. You didn’t answer, couldn’t. But he wasn’t letting you off that easy. His fingers tilted your chin up, forcing your eyes to meet his. “Say it.”  

A soft whimper escaped your lips, your head nodding before you could stop yourself. His smirk deepened, his grip tightening as he watched you unravel beneath him.  

The tension coiled tighter, every inch of your body wound up and desperate for release. “Jimmy—Yes…” Your words trailed off into a shaky breath, eyes fluttering shut as the pressure built.  

He read you instantly, his voice dropping to a low whisper. “Cum on this dick, baby. I got you.”  

And just like that, you shattered, a breathless moan slipping past your lips as your body gave in. He held you through it, his hands steady, his eyes never leaving yours.  

“Damn,” he murmured, pressing his forehead against yours as you caught your breath. Jimmy didn’t let up. His grip on you was firm as he pulled you down to your feet, spinning you around with ease. His hands guided you, pressing your front against the counter as his body crowded you from behind.  

“Arch that back for me,” he murmured, voice thick with command.  

You obeyed without hesitation, your fingers gripping the cool surface as he slid inside of you, teasing, taking his time. Your breath hitched, a desperate whimper escaping your lips.  

“Damn,” he groaned, sliding an arm around your waist, pulling you closer. “Knew you just needed me to take care of you.”  

Your head fell forward, your lips parting. “Please…”  

He smirked at the way the word rolled off your tongue. “Yeah, baby?”  

You couldn’t form the words. Your thoughts were a blur, tangled in the heat of the moment.  

He chuckled darkly, his fingers trailing down your spine. “Mmh, all that attitude, all that ‘I hate you’ talk—where it at now?”  

You bit your lip, trying to hold on to whatever fight you had left, but it was useless. His fingers slid lower, finding your clit with ease. A sharp gasp escaped you, your body trembling under his touch.  

“Thought so,” he muttered, his lips brushing against your shoulder. His fingers moved faster as he coaxed you closer to the edge. “And you ain’t done yet, baby. You gonna gimme another one before I let up.”  

A desperate whimper slipped from your lips. “Yeah?”  

He hummed in satisfaction, his fingers working fast but firm, knowing exactly how to unravel you. “Yeah,” he confirmed. “And you gon’ take it.”  

Your body tensed, heat pooling low in your stomach as the sensation built higher, stronger, consuming every part of you.  

“Jimmy—” Your voice broke, your grip on the counter tightening as a wave of pleasure crashed over you, leaving you breathless.  

A deep groan rumbled from his chest, his arms holding you close as he followed, his breath heavy, his hands still gripping you like he wasn’t ready to let go just yet.  

“fffuuuckk,” he muttered, pressing a slow, lingering kiss against your shoulder. “Good girl.”  

Your knees felt weak, your breath shaky, but he held you steady, his lips ghosting over your skin as if savoring the moment.  

“You still hate me?” he murmured against your ear, his voice teasing, smug.  

You let out a breathless laugh, too dazed to even pretend anymore. “Shut up, Jimmy.”  

His chuckle was low, knowing. “ight.”

The night unfolded in a blur of tension and connection, each moment between you and Jimmy pulling you deeper into something unplanned. You moved through the apartment together. His dick was inside of you in the living room, slow and intense, his hands exploring with a mix of desire and tenderness. Every room, every new position felt deliberate.

It wasn’t just about the heat between you—it was the quiet tenderness in his touches, the way he’d pull you close, his hand brushing through your hair. With each passing moment, it became clear: this wasn’t a fleeting thing. Whatever had sparked between you two, it was something deeper than you’d expected. And as the night ended, you couldn’t help but wonder where it would lead.

[moosesarecute]

Chapter 12: The Shadow to my Flame

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

Ashe didn’t dream as she was passed out.

It was first when she was half awake, half asleep, she started to think.

She was the Lady’s daughter. Which probably meant she was the High Lord’s…the monster’s…daughter too.

She hoped she was a bastard. That that’s why she was hated so much, but deep down she knew that she wasn’t.

Ashe Vanserra.

She started sobbing as she thought about it. How? How could she be one of them. How would she be able to live with herself? She was a child of the most awful male in Prythian. She hoped the Lady cheated. She prayed silently that she wasn’t his.

The door opened and Ashe sat up in the bed she was laying in.

Where was she?

“You’re in the Night Court,” the High Lord of the Night Court answered.

Ashe immediately closed her mental shields and made sure to hold them at steady as she could.

A couple steps behind the High Lord stood the nice general from the ball, but Azriel was nowhere to be seen.

“We need to be sure you’re on our side before we can let Azriel in here,” the High Lord again answered her mental questions.

“Get out of my head,” Ashe said. Her throat was still rough and sore from the screaming. She wondered how long she had been out for.

“Only a couple of hours. You need more rest.”

She started to become angry, but as the emotion grew, she only felt more and more nauseous. She definitely got her anger from him. The Lady was almost never angry.

“Your shields are impressive,” the High Lord said. “Who taught you?”

Ashe realized she must have gotten him out. It calmed her down, even if it was just a little.

“Eris, my lord,” she answered with a whisper.

Her brother.

Her brother had taught her. One of her brothers. She did, after all, have five brothers, two more if you count the dead.

Cauldron, this was too much.

“No need for the formalities, unless you prove yourself to be a secret spy for the Autumn Court all along,” the High Lord continued. “Eris told Az that you didn’t know about your heritage. Is he telling the truth?”

Ashe looked down on her bandaged legs and laid her arms in her lap. She didn’t dare look at them as she nodded.

She felt so embarrassed. For so many years, she had been tricked into an identity that wasn’t true.

“You’re free now, Ashe,” the High Lord spoke much softer now. He must have gotten into her head again and realized she was speaking the truth. “You’re safe here in the Night Court. We’ll provide you with food and other resources until you’re ready to make your own living.”

She knew she should probably be happy about being giving another chance at life, but right at that moment, it was all too much for her.

What was she going to do? Maybe she’d get a job as a servant for the High Lord of Night. But she doubted he would trust her enough to give her that. She was, after all, the daughter of an enemy.

The High Lord and the general left the room, and unfortunately left Ashe alone with all her feelings.

Ashe thought through all the conversations she had ever had with her supposed family. All the laughing learning with Lucian, all the late-night talks with Eris and all the formal and short conversations with the Lady. She also thought about the horrible treatment she got from the rest of the Vanserras. How the rest of her brothers had gotten her punished countless times.

How the High Lord had given her so much pain.

She looked down. Her entire body was bandaged with cold compress. It gave temporary relief, but Ashe really wondered how she looked under the bandages. How bad was the damage? How many new scars would she get?

She felt the new, but now also familiar feeling of her chest tightening. Her breaths became shorter, and her lungs felt shallow and full at the same time.

Ashe lifted her hand, it was almost the only part of her that wasn’t covered, and brushed through what was left of her hair. On the left side of her head, her hair was almost as long as it used to be. On the right side, she only had a few centimetres left of her hair. Her scalp felt sore and stingy. The hair colour must have made her hair even more flammable than usual.

She wouldn’t need to colour her hair ever again, she realized. There were no rules that said she couldn’t have her natural hair colour.

But did she want to? Red hair was associated with Autumn. Did she want to get associated with her abuser?

That’s what he was, she finally dared to think. Her abuser.

And her father.

A knock on her door was the only thing that stopped her from bursting into tears again. She felt like her life was over. And in one way, it was. The life she had been living for 160 years, were over. She would have to start over, all alone.

The door opened just a little, and many shadows came flying in.

As they had done different times previously, they covered Ashe from head to toe to make sure she was okay. When they found the new burn wounds, they stopped and hugged her legs and back.

Their coolness felt nice, and their touch didn’t hurt, so that was very nice.

As before, they carried a small piece of paper.

May I come in?

He didn’t need to write who he was. The shadows made it obvious.

“Come in,” she whispered to the shadows and one of them flew and opened the door.

Azriel walked in with his wings tucked tightly to his back. His hands were folded in front of him and he tried to also make his body seem smaller.

He didn’t want to scare her, and Ashe highly appreciated it.

Ashe had never seen his eyes softer. He was visibly worried.

Azriel had done more for Ashe than what he realized. He had given her life a purpose. She had been able to use her situation to help others, because he had trusted her.

But now, she wasn’t who he laid his trust to. She was a different individual. All had changed.

“Are you okay?” he asked and then his eyes widened just a little. “I mean, of course you aren’t, but are you in pain? Do you need something? Can I get you something?”

He spoke softly, but Ashe could feel the eagerness in his voice.

She didn’t know what to answer. She needed so much, but she didn’t know what.

She needed someone to not only tell her, but make her believe, that everything would be alright. She needed someone to pick up all the broken pieces she had lost and build her back together.

She didn’t want this much change. She wanted to live the calm live she had been living. Ashe could take a few more years of abuse and work. She would probably work herself to death, but it would be easier than to deal with this.

Ashe hadn’t realized she zooned out before Azriel had sat down on the bed before her. He moved awkwardly slow and bulky as he tried to place his wings in a comfortable position. When he was happy, he held his arms very lightly around her. If she wanted to, she could easily move out of his embrace, but why would she want that?

She couldn’t hold herself back as she leaned her entire weight onto him and started weeping. She let out all she had. The tears and the sobs and then even more tears. When she first started, she couldn’t hold back.

Azriel stayed.

He held her through it all.

The louder her wailing, the tighter he held her, but she felt safe the entire time.

She didn’t deserve to feel this safe around him. Ashe shouldn’t be allowed to be safe. Her family had made so countless many others unsafe. They had killed and slaughtered so many.

She didn’t deserve to be the one that got saved.

“Sleep, Flame,” Azriel whispered to her. His shadows were covering the windows, so it was now dark. “I’ll be there when you wake.”

Azriel had been there when she woke hours later. He no longer held her, but he stroked her hair until she felt asleep.

She felt so selfish for keeping him there. It was surely many more that needed help to more serious things than her having a small breakdown.

Azriel wasn’t alone. Thord and Samli sat closest to her bed, and another faerie, one Ashe didn’t know who was, was tending her wounds.

Seeing her legs out of the bandage broke her a little more. They looked awful. They were red and full of blemishes.

Ashe realized she probably deserved to live with such scares. Many people would agree with her about that. She was a Vanserra. Vanserras did bad things and people wished bad things upon them in return.

Ashe refused to look Samli or Thord in the eyes. They must feel so betrayed by her. She had been tricking them all along. She hadn’t known about it, but if they were here to yell at her, she wouldn’t be surprised.

“You can start slowly moving around now, but only for short period of time,” the female tending her wounds said. “I have left some cream and a tonic for you. These kinds of burn-wounds hurt a lot when they heal, so you should expect being uncomfortable for quite a few more days. Don’t hesitate to contact me if it gets too painful or if you’re unsure about anything else.”

The female stood up and started to leave the room.

“Thank you, Madja,” Azriel told her with an appreciative nod.

“Take care, Shadowsinger,” the female, Madja, answered.

It was silent when she left. Thord and Samli looked like they were waiting for Ashe to start apologising. Their hands were connected and laid carefully in Thord’s lap.

“Hi, love,” Thord said after a little while.

His voice dumped even more guilt upon Ashe.

“I didn’t know. I promise you, I didn’t. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to. I wish it was different. I really do not know anything at all. No details or anything, but I’m sorry. Please, please believe me.”

No one spoke. Ashe was breathing heavily. The only sound was Ashe’s rough breaths, until the door closing had all three of their heads turn towards the door.

Azriel had left.

Azriel left, and Ashe felt the sudden need to throw up. He probably didn’t like her any longer. She wasn’t sure if she even liked herself any longer.

“Ashe, listen to me,” Thord said and moved out of his chair and sat down on her bed. He grabbed both her hands in his and gave them a small squeeze. “This changes nothing, you hear me? None of us are mad. You haven’t done anything wrong. You are still the Ashe we know and adore. You are still the same person that always looks out for others. Who your parents are doesn’t change that. You, Ashe, are still you.”

He gave her hands another squeeze and Ashe finally looked up at him. He looked tired, but at the same time calm. Ashe could imagine he hadn’t been sleeping very well since having to leave Samli.

Samli, however, looked a lot better than she did the last time Ashe saw her. Her cheeks had gotten the colour back and she even wore a small comforting smile.

Ashe felt the need to protest at Thord’s words. Of course everything had changed, how could he say anything else? It was absurd.

“You’re moving in with us,” Samli was the next to speak and her words made Ashe’s eyes widen. “You’re part of our family whether you like it or not. Rhysand is helping us moving in an extra bed for you as we speak.”

Rhysand?

How did she dare call the High Lord by his first name? That’s almost more absurd.

“We’re going to build a new life her Ashe, and you’re going to be in it.” Thord ended the conversation.

Living with Samli and Thord was…safe. Ashe had never felt as relaxed. They lived in a small house in the middle of Velaris. Ashe hadn’t been well enough to leave the house yet, but she was looking forward to escaping a little.

She loved Thord and Samli, but she wasn’t used to all the doting and attention. She was used to being bossed around, having work to do at all hours of the day. Nobody had cared if she was in pain or tired, she needed to work.

Samli and Thord was the opposite. They made her food, gave her books and yarn so that she wasn’t bored. They came with tea and sweets as a snack and wished her a good night sleep.

It was always evening when Azriel arrived, asking if she needed anything.

She always answered no, but he always knew what she actually wanted and got it for her. She didn’t know how, but he arrived with the medicine she needed, the new yarn she wanted or just some hot chocolate.

They didn’t speak much. Ashe new Azriel was waiting for her to open up, but she didn’t know if she would ever be able to do that.

Ashe didn’t sleep a lot. Even though she had gotten the biggest and softest bed from the High Lord, she couldn’t sleep. He wished for her to experience total comfort, so she got one of the big beds used by winged faeries. She didn’t understand why she needed a beg for wings, but she wasn’t going to speak against the High Lord.

Every time she closed her eyes she saw him. She was the fire, his burning eyes and then, she saw him turn into her. His eyes were hers and his fire, his painful and evil fire, was suddenly hers.

She only slept after talking a sleeping tonic and she could only take that every 48 hours.

After a week, Ashe was healed enough to go exploring. She had taken the habit of sleeping during the day, so that she wouldn’t intrude on Samli and Thord. At night, it was also harder for her to see her reflection. Which was a good thing, since she no longer saw herself in her reflection. Cutting her hair had only made things worse. She had styled it and changed it slightly for each day since she cut it, but she still saw him each time she looked in the mirror. It didn’t help that her hair was growing in record speed, and the redness was starting to show.

Ashe wandered into the woods.

She went to the same clearing each week.

The clearing itself became bigger and uglier for each night.

She was convinced she could burn herself out. If she just used her powers enough, she wouldn’t have more left eventually, or at least that’s what she told herself.

Two seconds.

It now took her two seconds to burn down an entire tree.

She felt both dizzy and nauseous afterwards, yes, and she burned her own fingers more and more, but she did it to protect everyone else. Ashe refused to be put in a position where she used her powers to harm. And to make sure that never happened, she would do everything to stop her powers from working.

Taglist: @tele86 @demon-master-zero @kbear8863 @atluky @mis-lil-red @rcarbo1

Let me know if you want to be added!

Dividers by: @saradika-graphics

[the-acid-pear]

Glad I'm aro so I can fucking say some other aros out there are so fucking annoying.

[jellybeanium124]

if you'll allow me to flaunt my psych minor for a second, I'd like to talk about epigenetics. there's studies that show that if you shock a rat when you let them taste a certain flavor, they will immediately become averse to that flavor. not surprising. what is surprising is that the rat's grandchildren, who have never been shocked when given that flavor, will also be averse to it and afraid of it and avoid it. there's also correlational evidence to suggest that the descendants of people who suffered through famine are more likely to put on weight and keep it on easier, even if they have never been through a famine themself.

trauma gets passed down. the kinds of trauma your parents, grandparents, and so-on lived through is still living in you. even if your parents were the most well-off, loving, best parents in the world, their trauma is still in you.

now if you'll allow me to take a slight turn here: there's a wild rabbit inside every jew.

my dad grew up being called "jew-boy." my mother had a coworker throw pennies at her at her job in the 2010s. and that's just two examples. they both grew up being harassed for being jewish. I wasn't. I'm incredibly lucky. the amount of antisemitism I've experienced in real life has been incredibly minimal. I didn't even hear anyone make an antisemitic joke in front of me until college.

and none of us were seriously persecuted. none of my grandparents were seriously persecuted. but even though nobody's broken my windows, nobody's beaten me in the streets, and I haven't been at any of those horrible protests in person, the fear is there. this deep seated, blood-pumping fear of the ancient jewish rabbit in me telling me to run. to run for dear life, to run as far as my legs can get me, as long as my heart keeps pumping and my lungs keep breathing.

we all feel this.

everyone feels this.

I called my mother yesterday. when I brought up this feeling she paused, and the silence said everything. she told me I wasn't alone. she feels it. my dad feels it. my brother feels it. my nana and grampa feel it. every jew you know, online, in real life, hell, even the famous ones, they feel it. the rabbit is inside us all, and the rabbit knows, because its brothers who didn't flee in the past were slaughtered.

the rabbit is leaping around my chest, all of our chests, chanting run run run run run run run.

I don't know if I can explain it to gentiles. I don't know if this makes sense to you. I don't know how to get across how crystal clear and deep and primal this fear is, and how much all of us are feeling the exact same fear, despite our different lives and different histories and the fact we're different people.

part of me wishes it didn't matter. that I didn't feel like I needed to get goyim to understand my specific cultural and ethnic experiences. because I don't feel like I need to deeply understand everyone else's. I am a white passing ashkenazi american jew, and I will never fully understand what it is like to be anything else. that doesn't dissolve my responsibility to educate myself and practice empathy, but it's ok. idk, maybe other people do desperately wish they could get people not in their specific group to deeply understand what it's like to be them. I imagine that feeling is universal. I guess, it's just like, the left is unified that everyone is a person, everyone is equal, everyone is human, except the jews. nobody is left out but the jews. everyone's word is believed, but the jews. and it makes me feel like I have to beg and plead with people to understand what being jewish means, because we're not included with everyone else. we're the enemy. and I want people to see we're not the enemy.

epigenetics.

[krossan]

A Brief AU Explanation

I noticed that there are a lot of new followers that do know Danny Phantom, and others that the know very little. I am also aware that I haven't fully explained - maybe NOT in too much detail - the "story" and plots of my AU. You only have the ideas that I've been telling of this story through illustrations.

This AU is all about reconnecting with one self, with Jazz and Dan as the main two of this particular game.

Jazz remains as the same character that is portrayed through the OG show. She has always been the psychology enthusiast of the group, the one that cares for others and help with whatever she can. For her, others come first. First being her family.

On the other hand, we have Dan, an alternate entity of Danny’s ghost half and Vlad’s. A new form of entity that lost his humanity. For him to show any form of emotion is null.

Jazz involvement in this has to do with her putting everyone else first and then herself, and being keen to the study of the human-psyche, and now ghost-psyche, she secretly partakes to the role of Dan’s therapist. This was kept in secret from the rest of her friends and Danny until she can gain more control over Dan.

This, of course, prove to be a VERY difficult task. With her having to hide her constant fears when facing that “particular someone”: he could go on a rampage, have uncontrollable outbursts, cause havoc, and that he could turn against her any day/time without any remorse. She knows this, but she also knows that deep down, her little brother is still there. She’s looking to rekindle that part of him again. Of course, never knowing at what extent this could go.

And this, apparently started to bear fruit, although at a slow pace. As Jazz stood closer and closer to him, she understood that he stayed alone his entire life, and after losing everyone he cared, his violent actions were his significance of showing the world "hurting". The hurt he have been caring so many years. Now he has that second chance. To “live” a new life and Jazz wants to help him out.

With this new information, each time Jazz got close to him, Dan, instead of seeing her as an obnoxious-human-parasite, he slowly starts bonding with her. His interest increasing each day he is with her and grows more comfortable being around her (something Dan originally despised).

***

Part of this AU, enrolls on a particular context that the ghost of a halfa is sentient. The original show as proven this*. When Danny’s ghost has been separated, his ghost has a mind of his own, but when staying together, human-ghost, the consciousness of the halfa acts as one. *Episodes in question: What You Want, Identity Crisis, The Ultimate Enemy

This part that the ghost plays on the known halfas is a mayor plot point from this AU. Let me explain my concept briefly:

This roll that the ghost is part of the halfa is the one that caries the power of the wielder (human). The human can transform into the ghost and vice versa. The ghost powers remain within the ghost half. The human half acts as a vessel/host to the ghost half.

All living things have the instinct of survival. And on this case, the ghosts would do ANYTHING to keep their host safe as they are the means of a linked connection human-ghost. Not unlike the rest of non-halfa- ghosts that their link/host relies on the Ghost Zone -since they no longer have a corporeal body, the vessel for their survival is ectoplasmic energy, the one that emanates from the GZ.

***

Since Dan is no longer connected to a human, he became a full-ghost. An entity that merged from two ghost halfas. He can sustain himself alone, but strangely enough, he building a bond with Jazz, it rekindled what Jazz intended, but in an unusual way. Jazz intention was to try and reconnect Dan with his long-lost humanity. Even if he didn’t have a human half, both his ghosts may have some little information stored deep within of what that used to feel like. And even though that started to give results, the ghost also retained that of his original purpose: Protect the host.

And as the bond Dan and Jazz grew more and more, unknown to them, it caused a physical manifestation: a white streak formed in Jazz’s hair. And even if this came up as a surprise to Jazz, she later discovered that this manifestation was much more than just physical.

Dan rekindled his humanity but he, unknowingly, intertwined Jasmine’s humanity to his. Her humanity is part of him. Jasmine’s emotions have an impact on him. Whatever she feels, he can sense it, let them be good or bad ones.

They both are this new form of halfa, both human and ghost are separate life forms, but from the ghost side -Dan’s perspective- Jazz is acting as his human half. His host. That’s is why his instincts respond to protect her at all costs.

No. This new form of a halfa representation doesn't mean Jazz has ghost powers. The one with that power is Dan. This bond is more of a psychic link.

 (i.e. In European folklore, you “could” say Dan is Jasmine’s "familiar", although Jazz is not considered to be a witch, but imagine the possibilities of this small plot causing people or ghosts to think Jazz is a witch… idk… random ideas)

This is why Dan is more sympathetic towards Jazz and why their bond is very important.

______________

It's worth pointing out that I don't have a specific name for this AU, like many people do when they create these stories. And NO. Please refrain from saying this is a romantic relationship. It is a sibling/platonic relationship.

[parkerflix]

—bet u wanna

min ho x gn!reader

wc: 2.5k

genre: enemies to lovers(?), reader is Q’s twin not twin ( tangerine & lemon vibes)

synopsis: your back and forth flirting with min ho takes an unexpected turn during chuseok.

warnings: some mentions of self-doubt

a/n: 1st fic from the 1k celebration! I do have a part two in mind, but i’m not sure if people would like that! lmk ur thoughts!

edit: here is part two!

You made your way over to Q’s dorm, knowing that you would have to see him.

Minho was the bane of your existence, and you were never one to enjoy his presence. He had seemed to be in an even worse mood recently with Kitty’s arrival and her meddling with everyone’s life. You loved Kitty, even though she did have her moments where she was a little all over the place. You had actually met her before the rest did, talking to her sometimes when Dae was facetiming her and you were studying with him.

Knocking on the door, you were surprised to see Minho open the door. He stared you down for a second, the air being awkward between you two the only sound being the facial mister in his other hand.

“Are you going to just stand there or are you going to let me in?”

Minho rolled his eyes and moved out of the doorway to let you in.

Waltzing in, you took to knocking on Q’ door, hearing some groaning coming from the other side. You opened the door, seeing Q laying in his bed still half asleep.

Grabbing his blanket, you puled it off of him.

“Morning sleepy head!”

Q groaned and lifted his head up from his pillow.

“Why are you here now? I thought we were meeting up for coffee.”

“My sweet darling brother, I couldnt just come because I miss you?”

He squinted at you, not buying your story.

“Okay I wanted to seeing if someone was here, but it seems that they didn’t stay the night today.” before he could respond, Kitty walked into the room yawning and seemingly in her pjs.

Your eyes widened and so did hers when she realized you were standing there.

“Kitty!”

“Yn!”

“I promise this isn’t what it looks like-”

You backed out of the room, awkwardly shaking your head.

“It’s fine! I’ll just be out here!”

Closing their bedroom door you heard the most obnoxious laughter behind you. You took a deep breath in, and turned your head to see Minho sitting on their couch with a cup of tea in his hands. You went to go sit down next to him, sighing.

“So it looks like you found out.”

“Were none of you planning on telling me?”

“Of course I wasn’t going to tell you, I’m not your handler.”

“Well of course not, you’re my lover.” you said leaning close to his face, batting your eyelashes at him.

You both stared at each other, and he nudged you away, feeling slightly awkward with you so close to his face. He didn’t want you so close, his heartbeat being slightly faster at your proximity.

“Shut up. That’s not even remotely funny.”

“I never said it was a joke.”

You both started bickering about it, not noticing when Kitty and Q came out of their room.

They both stared at you guys arguing with a small smile on each of their faces. It seemed obvious to everyone except the two of you that you guys were into each other, but if they told you guys they knew both of you would start spiraling.

Q liked seeing his sibling so happy, especially with Chuseok around the corner. Both of you weren’t going anywhere since you guys were expats, but seeing everyone go home always made you more homesick than normal. He remembered when his parents decided to adopt you, saying it would be nice for him to have a sibling that was his age. He was worried that you were going not like him, but you both took to each other fast. Being joined at the hip since your adoption, you always joked that you guys were twins, despite not even having the same birthday. But you made sure no one knew that your birthday wasn’t even the same day, making everyone everywhere address you both as twins.

He cleared his throat which made both you and Minho turn your attention to him & Kitty.

“Are you ready for that coffee?”

—

You had spent more and more time in Q’s dorm now that you knew Kitty was also there. It was refreshing having someone else deal with the guys, even if she did have some drama with Dae.

You weren’t the closest with Dae this year, having distanced yourself with all the drama he was swept up in. You pitied him a bit, being able to clearly tell his relationship with Yuri was a facade. Still, with Chuseok being in two days, you knew that it would be hard for him.

Walking into the living room of your brother’s dorm, you sighed and threw yourself ontop of Q. He groaned when you landed on him, your elbow hitting him in the ribs somehow.

You smiled at the noise he let out, seemingly satisfied.

“Have you seen Dae today?”

“No, he went home already. Something I guess came up? I’m not too sure, he seemed a bit stressed out about it.”

You hummed, a bit sad about it. Dae had left KISS early, and you weren’t able to talk to him.

The front door opened, and Minho walked in, letting out a sigh when he saw you there.

“Oh great, you’re here.”

“Aw Minho, did you miss me?”

“Do you think a dog misses it’s fleas?”

You stuck your tongue out at him, and he reciprocated it.

“Do you two ever get tired of arguing?” Q said, looking up from his phone.

You rolled off of him and went over to Minho, wrapping your arms around him.

Minho tried swatting your arms away, but you squeezed him tighter.

“Aww come on Q, you’re telling me that you don’t think we love each other?”

Minho’s mouth dropped wide open when you said that, never wanting to hear the word love come out of your mouth pertaining to him.

“I could never love you, you’re too annoying.” He grumbled wiggling himself free from your grasp.

You pouted and let out a huff,

“Minnie, you’re being too mean.”

The face that he had made left you satisfied and you went back to the couch with Q.

The silence that encased the three of you wasn’t awkward per say but you could’ve done without it.

Minho cleared his throat and both you and Q whipped your heads towards him.

Minho had always thought you guys were sometimes weirdly in sync like that, and it made him second guess if you guys actually were twins.

“So, are you guys going to Kitty’s chuseok dinner?”

You blinked at him, not even knowing that Kitty was hosting a dinner.

Q nudged your arm and you glanced at him with a small frown.

“Yeah, we’re going, are you?”

“No, I have a date with Lulu that day.”

You smiled at the thought of him going on a thought with Lulu, knowing that somehow he would probably mess it up.

“Lulu, huh? Sound’s interesting.”

“We’ve been flirting since her trainee days, it’s going to be amazing.”

“Well it’ll be fun to hear about!”

Q had said something to Minho about it, but you tuned out of the conversation, sending a few texts back and forth with Kitty.

She asked if you were busy, and if you could help her with the grocery shopping for the dinner (you assumed she assumed you were down to go to the dinner).

You told her you could meet her at the entrance of their dorm building and she said she would be over there in a few minutes.

You quickly got up and grabbed you bag, giving Q a quick hug.

“You’re finally leaving?”

“Don’t worry Minnie, I’ll be back soon!” You blew a kiss at him and laughed at his reaction, leaving both boys shocked.

—

Kitty’s chuseok was finally here, and she was running around the dining area, grabbing the last few things for the table.

You had shown up a little earlier than everyone, having promised Kitty you would help set up. You were finishing the table settings, turning around to grab the last of the silverware, when you accidentally ran into someone.

“Sorry! I didn’t see you-”

“Of course not. You tend to not look.”

You made eye contact with Minho, who seemed unamused. You had a slight frown on your face, ignoring his quip.

Sidestepping him you scurried along, finishing your task.

Minho was caught off guard, you never didn’t respond with your own quip, always being a thorn in his side that he seemed to not be able to get rid of.

The rest of the night you ignored his presence, choosing to sit next to Alex and leaving him to sit with Madison. No matter how annoying he thought you were, he did think you were lightyears better than Madison. He felt off somehow, seeing you act so different. Yes you were still laughing and making jokes with everyone else, but he could tell that your smile didn’t fully reach your eyes, and that you seemed to keep your laughter short.

Before he could ask you if anything specific was wrong, his phone buzzed with a text from Lulu. He had been so focused on you ( and also ignoring Madison), that he had forgotten about his date. You had excused yourself from the table before he did, stating that you just weren’t feeling well. Q had given you a worried glance but you shook your head at him and he seemed to get the hint that you wanted to be alone. You had assumed it was the twin telepathy that you both have.

His eyes had followed your retreating figure, and he muttered a goodbye to Kitty who was confused that he was leaving. He mentioned his date with Lulu, and walked towards the exit, hoping he would find you around there before his date.

You sat on the steps of the school, pulling your sweater’s sleeves over your hands, letting the tears flow from your eyes. You were frustrated for feeling so homesick and wanting to act normal like your brother. He seemed to not be as homesick, knowing that sometimes your relatives could be harsh. He also seemed to be doing well this year, having a good group of friends and a loving boyfriend. You knew that even though his friends were also your friends, besides Kitty you sometimes felt that they felt forced to be around you.

Minho had found you sitting on the steps, and he wasn’t really sure what he was supposed to do, or say at this point. He had never expressed any interest in your emotions other than your annoyance, and he also was just horrible at comforting people. Ignoring the vibrating of his phone, he went and sat down next to you, waiting for you to realize he was there.

“Q, I love you but I wanna be alone right now.”

“Well, I’ll pass on the message to him.” you glanced at the owner of the voice you knew so well, not knowing what to say to him.

You sighed and turned your focus on the sky once more.

“Don’t you have a date to be getting ready for?” you had meant for it to come out snarky, but you both could tell it just came out more sad than anything else.

He nodded and hummed.

“Yeah. But you seemed to need someone to talk to. And lucky for you I’m not only incredibly attractive-”

“And humble apparently”

“But I’m also a great listener.”

You turned to meet his gaze, not seeing a hint of a joke in his eyes.

“I’m just homesick.”

He nodded, knowing how that felt. For him he felt homesick with his mother, spending time with her and getting to see her all the time. His father on the other hand– well he had assumed that a normal father-son relationship boiled down to sending presents when he seemed to remember he had a son.

“I know it’s dumb too, but I feel like I’m just annoying to everyone sometimes, and that everyone except for a few people only see me as Q’s sibling. I just feel out of place sometimes. It’s not always a feeling that’s there, but today it is.”

Minho didn’t realize that you had felt this way. As annoying as you could be, he found that you truly cared for your friendships, and always kept within boundaries. He knew that if he were to ask even your classmates you were well liked, keeping to yourself but willing to help those if needed.

“I know I’m probably the last person you wanna hear this from, but you’re not annoying.”

You gave him a skeptical look and he let out a soft laugh.

“Okay, sometimes you’re annoying. But you’re someone that people really enjoy to be around. I know whatever I say may seem hollow, but you really do mean a lot to people. I don’t think people just see you as Q’s sibling, I believe they see you for you. You’re kind, smart, and witty.”

You stared at him, a little shocked at how he saw you. All this time you thought he actually hated you, but perhaps you were wrong?

A small smile crept onto your lips, and he felt something in him swell at your smile.

“Thank you, Minho.” you whispered, fiddling with your sleeves.

He wasn’t sure what it was, but there seemed to be something between the two of you. Neither one of you said anything, the silence palpable . Both of you failed to realize that you were both leaning closer to each other’s faces, close enough to kiss until his phone started ringing.

The ringing snapped both of you out of whatever trace you were in, and he looked to see who was calling him.

You saw his phone screen light up with Lulu’s name and contact picture, and you immediately felt awkward. He had a date tonight, and whatever almost happened between the two of you was most definitely a bad idea.

Minho seemed torn as to what to do, until your voice reached his ears.

“Answer it.”

He hesitated for a moment longer before getting up from the stairs and answering the call.

Lulu was calling to let him know she was running a few minutes late, traffic being bad for no reason. She told him that she’d be there as fast as she could, and that she was happy to see him.

He nodded along to what she was saying, acutely aware that you were behind him, hearing him agree with what she said on the phone.

He quickly hung up and turned back around to apologize to you, noticing that you were gone.

You had left when he got up sprinting to your dorm, heart beating fast and head full of thoughts of what could’ve happened between the two of you if she hadn’t called.

[sofreddie]

Line in the Sand

Summary: When Sam and Reader meet, he lays down a line, letting her know nothing would ever happen between them despite the deep connection that was felt. It doesn't take long for him to regret that decision.

Characters: Sam Winchester x F!Reader, Dean Winchester, Castiel

Warnings: Soulmate AU, Angst, Fluff, Hunting, Injury to Reader, Smut (Unprotected Sex)

WC: 6,809

A/N: Hey, all! I know it's been a million years since I've been posting. Life, ya know? Anywho, here's a fic I've been gradually working on for longer than I remember. It was supposed to be a little fic and grew into this (sorry, I'm so wordy). I'm really happy with how it came out in the end. Enjoy! Feedback is appreciated. : )

Sam gently laid Y/N in bed, tucking the sheets around her. She was spelled, her body immobile and looking as if she were merely asleep. Sam knew better, knew that she had been close to death's door.

Dean leaned against the door frame with his arms crossed, watching Sam lean down to kiss her forehead. Then, he shifted his gaze away, feeling that the moment was too private to be witnessed.

Sam took one last look at Y/N before leaving the room, closing the door quietly behind him. It seemed silly, but it helped him deal with it if he had imagined she was only sleeping.

“She’ll be okay,” Dean reassured his brother as they walked down the hall to the kitchen, “We killed the bitch and gave her the antidote. Should just take a few hours for the spell to wear off.”

“It shouldn’t have happened,” Sam growled, and Dean nodded in agreement, “She could have died!”

“She didn’t.”

The brothers stared at each other in silence, Dean calm, and Sam still too riled from the hunt and nearly losing her. Sam loved Y/N deeply and with all he had, and he knew she felt the same. Even if they never said it, they knew. But they both had reasons for not pursuing anything beyond their cherished friendship. Sam couldn’t help but feel the distance between them, and even her injury was, his fault.

Yes, there would always be the threat of their enemies pulling them apart. Yes, there would always be the threat of death hanging over them. And yes, falling in love again after losing so much and so many people was a debilitating concept. But after nearly losing her, Sam wasn’t sure any of those reasons mattered anymore.

They’re lucky they had the cure after saving another victim in the case. Otherwise…Sam ran a hand over his mouth, shaking his head as he thought again about nearly losing her.

“You should be there when she wakes up,” Dean offered, grabbing a couple of beers to return to his room for the night.

He knew Sam would eventually find his way to Y/N’s side. He hoped that if he had just put it out there, Sam would have skipped the pretense and brooding before inevitably finding himself at her side anyway.

Sam nodded, clutching the unopened beer bottle as he went down the Bunker hallway and to her room again. He was restless, eager for her to open her eyes and smile at him again. Until that happened, he didn’t know what to do with himself.

He quietly entered her room, hoping she’d be awake, but his heart sank seeing her exactly as he left her. He closed the door quietly behind him. Walking over to the desk, he pulled out the wooden chair and turned it around to face Y/N. He set the beer aside, not thirsty anyway, and cradled his head in his hands.

–

“I can’t believe it’s you!”

Sam groaned and rolled his eyes as he and Dean left the abandoned house. The new hunter they’d met, Y/N, was as green as they come, trying to take on a haunting by herself. She’s lucky they showed up when they did, or else her first hunt might have been her last.

“I’ve heard so much about you from other hunters,” Y/N rattled on, tripping over aged debris as they exited the now ghost-free domicile. “I’m such a fan-” she continued, but Sam wasn’t listening.

He spun on her in a flash, his face showing his apparent ire and dislike of her, “You nearly got yourself killed in there. What the hell were you thinking?”

Y/N jumped in shock, her eyes flashing between the brothers as she tried to come up with a response, “Well, my family hunted for years, and I helped with research, but after they were gone, it was kind of my responsibility to take over, right?” she asked with a lopsided grin and shrug.

“It’s not unheard of,” Dean chimed in with a tight smile. Sam flashed him a bitchface, to which Dean raised his hands in defense and shut the hell up.

“You’re like, my heroes,” she added with a chipper demeanor.

Sam scowled harder as he saw the stars in her eyes and how she seemed to want to reach out and touch him. He could feel it, too, if he were being honest. A pull to her, a need to want to know her and keep her safe. She was beautiful and shapely, and unlike any other woman he knew. If they had met a few years before he’d become so angry and cynical, there might have been a chance. But the way his life was now and the way her happy eagerness grated on his nerves, it was best he shut that down from the start, for both their sakes.

He scoffed, taking a cocky and stern stance as he shook his head and lowered his voice, “It’s NEVER gonna happen, you hear me?”

Sam knew and could feel this odd connection between them. It seemed to pulse with a faint life all its own, and it was unnerving. He could see in her eyes the admiration and attraction she bore for him. Though it made him want, he rejected her.

Y/N hesitated only a moment, but it was long enough for her to crack, for the pain of his statement to be seen. She quickly recovered, the smile and upbeat attitude back in place in the blink of an eye, almost making Sam think he’d imagined it.

“Okay, Sam,” she grinned, waving farewell as she backed away to her car.

Sam’s heart sank as he watched her go; he was sad to see her leave and mad at himself for doing that in the first place. He chose to ignore Dean’s stern glare and unapproving stance. Dean let it go with a sigh, knowing it would come up again at some point.

–

Sam groaned, running a hand down his face at the memory of when they met. He couldn't stand himself and what he did to her, trying to push her away, even if it was for their own good. Now, however, his eyes landing on her still and quiet body in her bed, he regretted everything. She was his, and he was hers; their souls connected on a deeper level from the moment their eyes met.

He came so close to losing her and would never have been able to tell her the truth.

He sighed again, trying to stay calm while waiting for her to wake. He knew she would wake, but he was still nervous that maybe this was it, and she was lost to him. He only had himself to blame for his misery. 

Unbidden, his mind drifted back to the beginning, and he remembered how she became so engrained in their lives despite his attempts at distance.

-

"Fancy meeting you here," Y/N greeted as she walked out of the Sheriff's office, greeting the Winchesters as they arrived in the parking lot. She straightened her blazer, self-conscious and uncomfortable, but more than looking the part of the FBI for the case.

Sam scoffed, "Are you following us?"

Y/N glared back at him. "Looks like I was here first. Are you following me?"

"Cut the shit," Sam growled. "Every other case we go to, we run into you."

"I don't have to explain myself to you. You're not the only hunters in the world, and you're certainly not the only ones with obligations and family ties to fulfill," she growled back. 

Dean couldn't stand the tension that seemed to grow between Y/N and his brother every time they saw each other. He liked Y/N. She was new but eager and had some skills and knowledge. With some training and guidance, she had great potential. 

"Why don't we work this one together?" Dean insisted, ignoring his brother's scowl as Y/N lit up. 

"Really?" she practically squealed in delight before giving Dean her motel and room number. 

He intended to follow her there, and they could discuss and work the case together. He was concerned about her hunting alone and hoped he could sort through whatever was going on with his brother regarding Y/N. 

-

The first hunt they worked together and the first grave injury she'd received. They had done research, but Sam had missed some key details. He was too focused on Y/N - her voice, body, giddiness, and eagerness to prove herself. And he was angry that she could have that effect on him and couldn't shake it no matter how hard he tried.

So when they went to the cabin in the woods to take out two werewolves - which Y/N was extremely nervous about - Sam missed the details that would have told him there were twice as many.

Y/N groaned and shifted before settling back into silent stillness. The hem of her shirt rid up, showing a sliver of skin along her stomach. Sam could just make out the shimmering silvery scars she was left with after nearly dying on the first case they all worked together.

Sam again blamed himself. She was associated with them, somehow connected to him, and the universe cursed him to lose anyone he grew close to. It only further settled his resolve to avoid her entirely. He planned to help her heal and then part ways, never to meet again at any cost. He was convinced it was the only way to keep her safe.

However, Dean, being Dean, thwarted Sam's plans entirely when he invited Y/N to stay at the Bunker with them while she healed. Sam had argued with Dean, insisting that once she was healed, she should leave.

But Dean had convinced him otherwise. Dean wanted to train, guide, and keep an eye on her. Dean explained that she would hunt regardless, so it would be better if they taught her and helped her out instead of leaving her to hunt alone. That thought made Sam sick to his stomach.

She'd been with them ever since.

Y/N stirred in her sleep again, the spell gradually wearing off a little at a time as she metabolized the cure. Sam breathed shakily, wondering if she'd even want to see him when she came to. He tried to keep her off this hunt. She had never hunted witches before, and Sam tried explaining just how awful they could be, but she wouldn't be deterred. They had argued, but in the end, it didn't matter because she went on the hunt, and despite his best efforts, Sam couldn't protect her in time from the witch.

He should get Dean to be here when she woke. They had a much easier relationship. Dean and Y/N quickly became good friends, having so much in common and getting along better than Sam had ever seen Dean with anyone. Since she came into their lives, Dean has always been smiling and laughing, and she has improved their lives positively. Dean took her under his wing like a sister, but Sam didn't always see it that way.

-

Sam grit his teeth, emptying the contents of his crystal glass and refilling it with the amber liquid and a heavy hand. He took a healthy sip and leaned back in his chair at the map table. Dean and Y/N sat across from him, drinking, chatting, and laughing like they had been most of the night. Sam wasn't even sure they remembered he was there. 

Y/N tapped out first, dismissing herself to bed. Sam barely grunted a response as she left, Dean bidding her goodnight, his eyes glued to her as she went. Once she disappeared, Dean dropped his head with a smile and chuckled. Sam couldn't stop glaring at his brother, and he couldn't stop the scoff he huffed.

"What's your deal?" Dean scoffed back, sipping at his glass. "You've been broody all night."

"Are you and Y/N a thing?" Sam asked, his glare steady as Dean's eyes widened. "You're always together and so friendly," Sam seethed accusingly.

He wasn't expecting Dean's uproarious laughter, which confused and angered him further.

"Holy shit," Dean laughed as he caught his breath, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye. "She's my friend, like a sister to me. We aren't a thing," Dean insisted with an amused grin. "Is that why you've been bitchy all night?" he continued to chuckle.

Sam glared, not amused. Dean finally let out a long breath, the laughter fading as he realized how bad Sam had gotten over Y/N.

"Sam, I know how it is between you two," Dean tried explaining. "I wouldn't knowingly take her away from you."

"She's not mine," Sam said, though the lie was blatant even to him.

"I think you're starting to regret that line in the sand," Dean shook his head, rising from the table before heading to his room. 

Sam knew his brother was right. He regretted the walls and distance he'd placed between Y/N and himself and was beginning to feel differently about the whole thing.

-

Sam rubbed his hands over his face, trying to remove the sleep from his eyes and mind. He stood from the chair only to turn it back around. He slumped and leaned back, his legs spread wide, reaching for the beer he hadn’t been interested in earlier. Taking a long swig, he relaxed in the chair, eyes focused on Y/N.

After that night, he tried to talk to Y/N, make a move, and remove the line between them. Based on how she acted when they met and how she was in general, he thought she would have jumped at the opportunity. Instead, she surprised him by rejecting his advances. Confused and hurt, Sam tried explaining that whatever reasons he had before weren't reasons anymore.

"I still have my reasons, Sam," she answered as she turned away from him.

Her rejection deeply hurt Sam, but he didn't blame her. He hadn't exactly been warm and welcoming to the idea of her or them. He figured she needed some time to come to terms with the fact that he did actually want something between them. He was also desperate to know her reasons, and then maybe he could do something about it.

Dean wouldn't tell him anything other than to try and take things slow and start small. Sam was more than frustrated with Dean's apparent lack of knowledge - he knew his brother was hiding something with how close they were - but he respected that Dean wouldn't betray her trust. So, Sam tried to start small and slow, but Y/N didn't seem interested in anything to do with him other than hunting.

Things between all three of them grew unbearably awkward.

Dean constantly felt torn between his brother and Y/N. He could never spend time with them together because the tension was so thick it choked the air. He didn't understand their connection, but he knew there was something, and he was frustrated with their denying and avoiding it. He wanted them together and happy, and the way they constantly stole glances and lingering looks when the other wasn't paying attention told him how much they wanted it, too. But he didn't know what to do that wouldn't upset or betray either of their trust in him.

But Sam did notice all the glances and looks. He knew Dean was aware but didn't care. Sam could see that Y/N looked at him often when she thought he wouldn't notice. Sometimes, she looked at him with stars in her eyes, sometimes with a heat so palpable that he felt its caress burn across his skin. Sam could tell that she was thinking about it. About what he said, about him, about them. Yet, she continued to deny them the chance.

Y/N's rejection began to affect him soul-deep in a way that concerned him enough to conduct research. After many hours and tons of books, he discovered the answer - they were soulmates. Of course, he ran to tell Dean to have someone to talk to about it. Dean insisted Sam should tell Y/N and finally face what it was between them. But Sam wasn't ready to tell her, and Dean was gravely disappointed.

Then came the hunt.

Sam groaned, slumping further into the chair and letting his head rest on the back, the now empty beer bottle resting atop his thigh. Why did he have to be such an asshole? He wasn't always so angry, suspicious, and cynical. There was a time - most of his life, actually - when he dreamed of something like this. A deep connection, a love that could survive his life. After nearly losing her, he had to tell her and attempt to convince her that they could try.

-

"Hey guys, I think I found a hunt."

Y/N announced as she practically bounced into the war room towards the brothers. She handed over her tablet with a big grin, watching as Sam and Dean crowded into each other to read the tablet screen.

"I think you're right," Dean agreed, handing the tablet back to her. 

"Looks like a witch, most likely," Sam huffed.

"A witch?" Y/N asked, her eyes widening. "Never hunted those before," she mumbled as she fidgeted with the device.

"First time for everything," Dean grinned.

"She should stay here," Sam argued, wanting to protect her. "You know how bad witches are."

"She's gotta learn sooner or later," Dean shrugged.

Y/N glared at Sam and huffed as she stomped away, presumably to pack for the hunt. Sam tugged at his hair in frustration. 

"You're not helping anything by trying to bench her, Sam," Dean argued in her defense.

"She could get hurt. She could die, Dean!" Sam roared. "I'm just trying to protect her."

"Then look out for her on the hunt, have her back, and don't make her doubt herself."

She was great on the hunt. Dean beamed with pride as she recited her knowledge of witches and the defense tactics to use against them. She quickly made suggestions, found connections, and helped make everything go smoothly. But Sam could not help but brood once more, worried about her and the bond and her not reciprocating. 

It didn't help that she and Dean were so damn close, Dean praising and encouraging her, making her laugh and smile and beam with joy. It made Sam sick, the jealousy of not having that with her burning through him. He seethed over not being allowed even to be friendly with her as Dean was, let alone what they were supposed to have together.

It distracted him and angered him, and he knew he was being a dick, but he couldn't stop, couldn't help any of it. 

On the hunt, she was nervous but sharp and ready. Cornering the witch in her home went according to plan until she managed to get the three of them separated around her. She attacked Dean first, sending him crashing to the ground. Seeing his brother fall, Sam lunged forward, ready to shoot the witch, but she flung a hand that sent him flying into the wall, his gun clattering from his hold. 

"Sam!" Y/N screamed, worried as she watched Sam and Dean crumpled to the ground. She raised her gun, ready to shoot, but hesitated a moment too long.

The witch launched a blue powder at her - the same that they had found on the victims - before a shot rang out. Dean was lying on his side on the floor, gun perched in his hands, smoke rising from the barrel. The witch fell to the floor in a heap, the bullet hole in her forehead sizzling. 

Sam and Dean rose to their feet just as Y/N fell unconscious to the floor. They both rushed to her, Dean taking her in his arms and checking her pulse and breath while Sam buzzed with worried energy.

"We have the antidote, right?" Dean spoke as he lifted Y/N into his arms and carried her to the car. Sam followed like a worried puppy. He could only nod as Dean lay Y/N in the backseat, rushing to the Bunker to administer the antidote.

-

Sam groaned as his head lolled to the side, revealing an uncomfortable kink in his neck. He hadn't meant to doze off. He discarded the empty beer bottle, which he was surprised was still in his hand. Sitting forward, he groaned again as he rolled his neck to stretch out the muscles and rub the sleep from his face. He froze, however, when his eyes landed on Y/N, sitting up against the headboard, her eyes open and on him.

"Y/N." Sam breathed, surprised to see her awake, but the joyful ache in his heart spurred him to action.

Launching from the chair, Sam hurried to sit on the side of the bed, taking Y/N in his arms in a warm hug. "You're awake," he repeated, his breath fanning her hair. "You're okay."

"I'm okay," she agreed, patting his back. Sam reluctantly left the hug but held her hand in his, needing the comfort and connection.

"I thought I lost you," he whispered, broken.

Before Y/N could respond, her bedroom door opened, revealing a beaming Dean Winchester.

"Well, hey there, Lady," he grinned, coming around the other side of the bed to hug her. "I'm glad to see you're up and well; you had us scared for a minute."

"I messed up, didn't I?" Y/N asked, dropping her gaze to her lap and missing the confused looks of the brothers.

"No, Y/N, you were great," Dean insisted. "Witch dead, no one else got hurt, and you're recovering. Considering how nasty those bitches are, I'd say things went pretty smoothly."

"Hey, Y/N."

She grinned as she looked at Castiel, a real-life Angel she considered a friend, even though they hadn't interacted or seen each other much.

"Can I check you over? Make sure everything's okay?"

Y/N nodded, allowing Cas to place a hand on her forehead. She felt the warmth of his grace as it searched her system, seeking out any damages that needed to be healed. When he pulled away, she felt refreshed, and aches she didn't know she had were suddenly gone.

"The spell's broken," Cas announced. "You'll still need rest, though." He added, smiling when he noticed Sam holding Y/N's hand. "I could sense the connection between you," he continued, grinning as though it were the happiest news he could deliver. "Very rare, very strong," he kept speaking, oblivious to their discomfort. Y/N gently pulled her hand from Sam's hold, leaving him feeling cold without her touch.

"Rare?" Dean asked, ignoring the looks of the others.

"Yes," Cas clarified. "It is a natural soulmate connection. It happens randomly in nature, not assigned like in Heaven. I believe humans referred to it as 'One True Love.'"

Sam had discovered their connection through research, but Cas' words pinpointed the exact kind of connection they shared. His heart raced, and his mind repeated the words 'truelove, truelove' like a mantra. He felt the truth of it deep in his bones.

Y/N was more than surprised hearing Cas's words, though she supposed it explained why she always felt like she did for Sam, despite him rejecting her and being an ass. But as she glanced between Sam and Dean, sharing twin sheepish expressions, her heart sank.

"You knew?" she asked, glancing between them and their silent nods of confirmation. "You knew, and you didn't tell me?!"

She was angry and hurt. Angry that everyone except her seemed to know what was going on. Hurt that they hadn't told her, hadn't trusted her enough to bring her in, even on something that involved her. But she was also trying to corale the crazy galloping of her heart. It always did that when it came to Sam, but with what she'd just learned, it was so much worse. Still, she couldn't let herself accept it or give in.

"I was going to," Sam began but stopped when Y/N shook her head.

"It doesn't matter," she spoke defeatedly. "It doesn't change anything."

"It changes everything!"

"You made it perfectly clear from the start, Sam, that this would never happen. Just because we know what this is doesn't change our reasons for not doing it to begin with."

"Y/N-"

"I think I just want to be alone for now," she spoke, not meeting anyone's eyes as they shuffled out of the room, feeling like scolded children. Sam lingered in the doorway, hand on the knob, hoping that she'd ask him to stay. But when she didn't even look at him, he reluctantly left and closed the door behind him.

-

Sam huffed in his seat at the table, running his fingers through his hair and harshly tucking it behind his ears. He, Dean, and Y/N were in one of the many storerooms, cataloging the many items in the supernatural vault they called home. They had been trying, whenever they had downtime, to archive and digitize the Bunker's contents.

This time, however, they'd been at it for a week already, establishing a daily, monotonous routine as they worked diligently. Surprisingly, it was at Dean's insistence. Unsurprisingly, it was because things between the three of them had gotten entirely worse, tensions extremely high. It started when Y/N began going on less and less hunts along with the brothers. That turned into Sam getting far too distracted on hunts, and when he got injured because his mind was elsewhere, Dean said enough was enough, and they were taking a break.

Y/N, however, had been going on small, local hunts when the brothers were away. Dean found out about it when they returned early from a hunt due to Sam's injury, and she was arriving back from her own hunt. Thoroughly fed up and worried about them both, Dean practically put everyone on house arrest under his watchful eye.

This is how they ended up working on their project, following a routine set by Dean and cleverly forcing them all to interact. Sam and Y/N still managed to barely speak to each other or be as distant as possible within whatever room they were in. This only angered Dean more, frustrating him beyond belief. But he was determined to make them talk and work through it. After all, they were supposed to be each other's True Loves. Though you couldn't tell it by looking at them.

Sam appeared patient and calm, completely contrasting with the raging storm within him. Everything in him ached and begged for her, for even a sliver of positive attention that he would undoubtedly preen under. Despite everything, all he received from her was a cold shoulder. While working, everything seemed normal and fine so long as they stayed on task. As soon as Sam tried to joke or be personal, her icy walls went up, blocking him out again.

It didn't help that Dean was always there, or she was away, or they were doing something together. But she was never alone with him, and he started to think it was intentional. He just didn't know if that was her doing or Dean's. The tension between them was growing to suffocation, and Sam wasn't sure how long he could maintain his carefully crafted control.

Over time, he had become more tuned into her, able to feel and sense her, and understood her more than ever. He deduced that it must be the same for her, two halves eager to become one, which confused him even more about why or how she resisted.

"Alright," Dean announced as he stretched. "I'm gonna make lunch. You two keep working, and I'll bring everything back."

"Want some help?" Y/N quickly volunteered, and Sam dropped his head at how much she seemed to want to avoid him.

"No, I got it," Dean said with a smile before leaving the storeroom, which suddenly felt smaller.

"Y/N," Sam said the moment they were alone. She barely spared him a glance and a hum in acknowledgment as she stood beside the table, looking over the items they had piled to catalog. "Look, I'm not gonna hurt you or insult you or whatever you think I might do," he said, unable to keep the hurt from his tone. "So you can relax."

She huffed and shook her head, glancing at him quickly before looking back at the items. "You already did," she mumbled, but he heard it clear as a bell.

"Y/N-" Sam whispered, his heart breaking a little more as she shook her head again, trying to fight off tears.

He could feel her pain and her fear. That's when he realized how terrified she was of letting down her walls and letting someone in. He understood entirely, but he also knew she wanted him as much as he wanted her if the lingering and longing looks were anything to go by, not to mention the thick and taut tension that grew between them.

Sam sighed, then stood, leaning his hands on the table, his head hanging down. He chewed his lip as he thought over what he wanted to say.

"When we met, I wasn't in a great place," he began, not chancing a look at her, instead just focusing on his words and thoughts.

"Everyone we care about dies. It's happened so much, to so many, and it makes it hard to get close to anyone," he admitted with a huff. He glanced up at her, seeing her had her full attention, but his pain reflected in her eyes.

"On that hunt, we had been tracking you. We didn't know who you were but knew you were an inexperienced hunter."

Y/N was more than shocked, and Sam managed to smile sheepishly.

"We decided to follow you in case things went wrong. I was almost certain something would go wrong, they usually do with new hunters."

Y/N looked ashamed, and Sam pushed on.

"When we entered that house and saw you shooting off salt rounds at the ghosts," Sam chuckled and shook his head, his dimples showing and a tinge of red on his cheeks. Y/N fought to contain the dreamy sigh that wanted to slip out. "It was like one of those movie moments where everything slows down, and the light is shining just so," he chuckled, laughing a little harder as her expression morphed into disbelief and skepticism.

"I swear," he continued, enjoying her attention and reaction, feeling the ice chip away. "When you went all fangirl," he teased, "I wanted to be like Dean. Just lean against the car, smirk, and ask what you liked about me."

Y/N flushed hard, the heat in her cheeks enough to cause a blaze. She would have absolutely died if he had done that. Then the heat died down as she sobered, remembering that was absolutely not his reaction. Sensing he was losing her, Sam pushed on.

"I thought I was doing you a favor, doing me a favor, when I drew that line," he admitted, speaking quicker in his haste to explain himself. "But I was wrong, Y/N. And I didn't mean to hurt you."

Her heart soared at his words, his tender and desperate look, and the fear and hope wafting from him. But she still had her doubts - about herself, about them - that he put there. She wanted to trust him but wasn't sure she could.

"Okay, who is hungry?" Dean announced with a grin, setting a tray on the table and handing out sandwiches and beers.

Y/N turned her attention to Dean and the food, thanking him and tucking in. Sam shook his head, not wanting to stop their conversation but a little angry with Dean for his timing. Dean looked at his brother, who was still standing, with a questioning look. Sam deflated and slumped into his chair, ignoring his sandwich in favor of the beer and taking a healthy swig.

Y/N could feel the disappointment and growing depression coming off of Sam, and Dean's questioning gaze between them wasn't helping her feel any better. She set her sandwich down and pushed away her plate with a grumble.

"Lost my appetite," she explained.

"Alright, what happened?" Dean asked, looking between the two, who were looking anywhere but at him. Or each other.

Sam looked to Y/N, waiting for her to say something. The tension and pressure mounted so high that Y/N felt she couldn't breathe. Her flight instincts kicked in, and she dashed from the room, heading down the halls, hoping to barricade herself in her room until the tensions died down.

Dean could see the heartbreak flashing on Sam's face as the object of his affection ran from the room. He wasn't sure what happened while he was gone, but he hoped the renewed tension meant they were trying to work through everything.

"Sam," Dean said to his brother, having to repeat it a few times before he received the big man's attention. "Go after her!"

Sam's brow furrowed, but when Dean repeated himself a little louder, he jumped to action. Dean was right; he shouldn't leave it. Y/N might hate him or push him away, but he felt like maybe he was getting through to her. And he couldn't just leave things the way they were. A sense of urgency filled him, quickening his steps, as he began to feel like he might lose everything if he didn't reach her in time.

Rushing through the halls, he spotted her approaching her bedroom door. "Y/N!" 

He forced himself to walk, though at a brisk speed. He could see her flinch and knew she had heard him, but she didn't stop or turn to him. 

"Y/N!" He repeated, realizing she was still trying to escape him and the talk they desperately needed to have.

His fingers wrapped around her upper arm, and he tugged lightly, making her stop. She tried to shrug him off, which only upset him further. Reaching for her again, he spun her, pinning her in place with her back against the wall right next to her door.

"Sam!" she shouted, trying to push at his chest, but he wasn't moving. Instead, he crowded her further against the wall.

"We have to talk about this, Y/N. We need to deal with this."

She shook her head, on the verge of tears, afraid to look up at him. Her heart had been galloping over his words, and she was grappling with the contradiction between them and what her mind was telling her. His proximity wasn't helping; his scent was warm, and his frame was large. When she had pushed against him, she was surprised she hadn't whined at the strength in his muscles and the solidity of his body. 

It all served to make it impossible to think beyond her desires.

She still hadn't managed to remove her hands from his chest, her fingers twitching lightly against the soft flannel he wore. She could feel his heartbeat beneath her hands, his hands gently holding her upper arms, his warm breath fanning over her face, knowing he was looking down at her and waiting. Waiting for her to speak, to move, to do anything.

"Sam." She breathed, finally getting the courage to look up at him. 

She regretted it almost immediately. His beautiful hazel eyes—so close and in exquisite detail—mesmerized her. Her heart beat so hard and fast that she was sure he could hear it. 

"Please forgive me," Sam spoke, barely a whisper but enough for her to hear.

Everything about Sam was screaming at her to give in, seek out the connection, and revel in all that she had felt and dreamed about with him. She had fought so hard, trying not to give in because he made it clear where he stood. Having him so close, in her space and under her fingers, made something inside her crack and shatter, her walls crumbling down, leaving her open and vulnerable to him.

She nodded, fighting back the tears building in her eyes, "I forgive you."

As he met her eyes, the long-ignored spark brewing between them ignited. Throwing caution and restraint to the wind, Sam cupped her face in his large, strong hands and kissed her with all the passion he’d been denying. He couldn’t fight it anymore and knew she’d likely push him away and maybe slap him, but still, he couldn’t deny himself any longer.

To his surprise, she didn’t pull away and instead leaned into him, moaning as she tilted her head, allowing him to deepen the kiss. He could feel that she had reached a limit, her desire having lasted just as long. He didn’t think, only felt, as he allowed the moment to carry him away.

Sam wrapped his arms around her, and she bent her body into him, giving in willingly. It was he who moaned this time, lifting her into his arms and carrying her into her room, blindly shutting the door behind them and dropping her down to the mattress. He continued kissing her as he hastily undressed her. His hands skimmed along her silky thighs, desperate and eager for her. Inching his hand higher, he groaned as he found her mound, exposed and wet and waiting for him.

Y/N gasped as Sam trailed his kisses down her neck to her chest, and she scrambled to unfasten his pants. She needed him buried deep inside of her. She had thought about it, dreamed about it, for far too long. Her heart was racing, but she simply couldn’t wait a second longer to feel him.

As soon as his cock was free - hard and throbbing in her small and warm hand - Sam moved her hand away and lined up with her entrance, sinking completely inside in one thrust. Y/N’s hands clung to his back, her thighs tight around his hips as he buried his face between her breasts.

He knew it had been a while since she’d been with anyone, and he was bigger than average. He should have given her more time to adjust, but he just couldn’t keep his hips still; his need was too much to bear. He pulled back and thrust in hard, penetrating deep. Y/N threw her head back, and her mouth hung open at its suddenness. Still, he couldn’t stop or slow.

Capturing her mouth again, he kept up a punishing pace, fucking her hard and thorough. Not just because he’d wanted it for so long. Not just because she had been so stubborn in denying him when he’d been clear of his desire. Not just because he needed to hear her scream from pleasure because of him.

But also to fuck the stubbornness out of her. To claim her as his, inside and out. To make her finally submit and give in to what could exist between them.

Their eyes locked as they approached that climax together, moving hard against each other, desperate for that final release. Y/N broke first, her pussy clenching hard around his shaft as she screamed out her pleasure. Sam followed quickly behind, choking on his breath as he buried his face in the crook of her neck. His hips finally stilled as he pressed as deep as he could go, his cock throbbing relentlessly as he released several streams of cum within her warm depths.

Sam pulled away with a gasp and rose to his feet. Y/N was briefly worried that he was going to run off in shame. Instead, he devoured her with his eyes, licking and biting at his lower lip as he removed all of his clothes.

Once bare, he climbed back over her and kissed her with teeth and tongue, stripping her down to leave her nude and writhing. Y/N’s thighs wrapped around his hips, her arms securing around his neck to keep him close.

“Sam .”

“I’m nowhere near done with you,” he confessed, settling his hips between her thighs. She was surprised to find him hard again, or still, as his length nestled against her wet folds.

“You’re mine,” he insisted, sliding within her core slow and steady. “And I’m yours.” He slowly moved his hips, completely contrasting the urgency of before. “No more denying or hiding,” he continued as he slowly thrust in and out, kissing along her neck and collarbone, pressing his promises into her skin.

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->Pairing: Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Fem!Reader

->Words: 4.7k

->Warning: MDNI! unprotected sex, rough sex, fingering, mask stays partially on, dirty talk.

->Summary: Working alongside the 141 for a year now, you’ve grown closer to the infamous ghost. Confiding in Soap about your crush, confession is the only way to rid yourself of the gnawing infatuation. 

->A/N: Despite all my writing being about König, ghost is my all time favorite baby girl, writing for him always intimidated me but I’ll give it my best shot, hope he’s not too OOC.

It’s been a full year on the 141 and you couldn't be happier, well not happy at the moment since you’re ankle deep in sludge. This mission is going as well as any other despite the evac being miles away through humid weather and wet ground. 

“Good thing I packed extra socks.” You muttered, readjusting your gun and pack and unsticking your boot from a deep pocket of mud.

“Oh come on lass it could be worse right? We could be treading through anaconda infested waters huh? Lighten up.” Soap is next to you. He's having an easier time removing his boots from the muck. 

Price is in the front with Gaz next to him talking about the evac and rations, you admire their relationship. Price has slowly morphed into some kind of a father figure to you as you assume he did for Gaz too or at least a mentor. Gaz and Soap are like brothers to you, you bicker like such. You pick on Soap when he gets too drunk to form correct sentences and starts singing songs from his childhood, and you get Gaz too when he laughs so hard you have to remind him to breathe. Like a dynamic triangle the three of you.

Then there’s Ghost.

He stands at the back of the group behind you and Soap, no evident trouble for him when it comes to the mud. He’s sturdy and observant, keeping a close eye on the treeline and behind the group. He's a great soldier and you admire his skills… and him. Ever since you met him you’ve had your eyes trained. 

I mean who wouldn’t.

From his expressive eyes which sometimes you feel look through you, to his broad shoulders where he holds the world on top of them, his strong arms that deal with enemies swifty, to…his… lower extremities that you certainly have only thought of once or twice. Maybe more. 

You should be ashamed of your feelings, and you lock them down deep the only time they have slipped past your lips is when too much alcohol loosens them. 

—

You confessed one night to soap, the rest were asleep and your insomnia was kicking your ass so you went to the parking lot where soap was nursing a bottle on the hood of his car, and you sat down and shared it.

“Something on your mind bonnie?” He hands the bottle to you, concern brewing in him.

“I don’t know, it’s just, Ghost.”

He laughs.

“Yea, I know about him, but what about him?” 

You take a couple large gulps of the amber liquid, it burns its way down and soothes your aching wanting heart, burying the hopeless romantic in you. Tears brew in your eyes and you always forget you either become a laughing drunk or a sappy drunk, seems the latter had won tonight.

“Aye- lass, what's wrong.” His hand is placed on your shoulder offering a comforting touch.

You sob and laugh at the same time, looking up at Soap.

“I think I’m in love with him.” You say quietly through a stream of tears that make their way into your mouth, making a weird cocktail of salty liquor.

“Oh bonnie…” Soap rubs your back, his voice is soft.

“I just, everything about him Johnny! I can’t get him out of my head, and he probably doesn't even look at me that way, he could get any girl he wanted!” You sob.

“Woah there calm down, gonna throw yourself into a spell talking like this. Look. LT cares about ya, truly. He thinks you’re a valued member of the team and I’ve caught him starin’ a few times so don’t be daft now ya hear. You’re a pretty girl and LT would be lucky to have ya.”

You sniff, wiping the tears and snot with a sleeve.

“Really? You think so?”

“Cross my heart and hope ta die. You’ll be alright.”

—

“It’s in my shoes.” You deadpan.

You hear Gaz laugh and Price looks back, checking on the team.

“Don’t worry Y/N, just imagine it’s a mud bath! Your skin will be smooth and shiny before you know it!” Soap laughs at Gaz’s antics, it’s nice when you can all joke around and relax. The hard part is over and now it’s simple evac.

“Right… how soothing.” Your eyes roll and you look back to check on Ghost, your eyes meet and a flash of electric lightning shoots to your heart, it feels good. 

He gives a quick nod and you return to your trudging. You wait till after the mission to pass any other signals, he’s too focused to register any flirting right now. Or that's the advice Soap gave you after that night.

“Right. Keep close by, chopper is land down in 5, need to evac quickly to avoid any unwanted looks.” Price alerts to the rest of the team once you’ve covered ground and are nearing sweet release. Your back and knees ache just at the thought of sitting. You nurse the last of your water and keep walking, you tip your bottle back along with your head to get the remaining drops and you trip over a protruding root.

Other foot trying to catch yourself a hand catches on your upper arm, righting you up.

“Alright there?” Ghost’s dark eyes are steady on you, maybe a bit amused, or maybe his eye paint is creasing.

“Yea, sorry just tryna finish off the bottle, didn't see that there.”

“Careful next time yea?” He releases your arm and waits for you to start walking again to pick up behind you.

“Yea, for sure LT.”

You feel his hand on your arm even after he released you and you want to untie the knot that Ghost has tied there and you know you’re royally fucked.

You’re all on the chopper and your legs just about give out, you always love the euphoric feeling of sitting down after a mission like this, the lactic acid in your muscles making them burn like no other. You sit across from Ghost and he visibly relaxes once the chopped takes off, the breeze from the open doors cooling everyone immensely.

“Good work everyone, I know evac was shit but you all hustled and we got the intel we needed. I think we all deserve a good ol drink when we get back right?” 

Price brings a smile to everyone's face, as tired as the lot of us are. You glance over at Ghost and his eyes look away from you, looking over his gear.

Your heart pains for some kind of acknowledgment that he feels the same, it’s like trying to hold the same fistful of sand no matter how hard you try it seeps through your fingers, you want him so badly you’d tape your fist shut if that meant keeping the sand in.

—

Back to base, ‘same day different shit’ you heard Ghost say one time. You often hold on to everything he says, hoarding each little piece he feeds you and storing it away somewhere special. Like you’re hoarding food for the winter, as if the winter is him falling in love with a woman that isn't you, when that happens you’ll open your little box of his sayings and advice and eat them slowly, savor them until all that’s left to drink is the tears you drown yourself in as consolation. 

A pity party is what you throw yourself that night, showering and getting a once over by the medic then making your way back to your room, Price wants to get everyone together tomorrow night for a drink, wouldn't hurt you think. You sit on the edge of your bed, the silence is deafening after a mission, tinnitus ringing your ears. The bed is cold, you want someone to warm it, you want Ghost to warm it.

The nightmares come to you quickly that night, visions of your team, your friends being ripped apart by bullets as you try to fire back into mist. You hold Ghost’s hand as he fades and you wake up coated in cold sweat and adrenaline.

3:18 a.m.

You toss and turn for a minute before huffing and leaving the bed, you need air. Adorned in sweatpants and a shirt you got on recruitment day you leave your room the sound of your door is loud and you wince as it closes. You go to the parking lot once more, maybe there will be more stars out tonight. 

The air is crisp and cool, you round the corner of the building where a bench sits, a lone figure is sitting and smoking there, you can tell it’s him by his silhouette. He’s broad and his legs spread wide as he sits alone.

“This seat taken?” You ask, scared if you talk too loud he’ll leave.

“All yours” No inflection is evident in his tone.

Silence sits between you two and you take a harsh breath to break it. It makes you uncomfortable. 

“Trouble sleeping?” His voice is deep and low.

“The usual, nightmares again. You?” 

“Not tired, too soon after the mission to sleep.”

“I understand.” 

You watch him carefully as he brings the cigarette to his lips and inhales, you inhale with him. You imagine him inhaling your perfume as his lips touch your neck. You stare, unabashedly, like you’re not scared if he catches you.

He adjusts where he sits, hips rolling to get more comfortable.

“Bloody bench feels like it’s made of spikes.” He mutters, quietly.

You breathe out a laugh as he exhales the smoke.

His eyes look to the side at you and then forward again.

“Stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what?” 

“Like you want something from me.”

“What if I do?” 

Your heart is racing now, faster than it had on any given mission.

He stands, throwing the cigarette to the ground and crushing it with his boot, he slips his mask down again and his eyes are locked on you.

“I’d say you’d better fuckin’ find it elsewhere, we both know I can’t give you what you want.”

“What do I want Simon?” 

His lips grow sealed when you say his name.

“Things I’m incapable of providing, best leave it at that. Night sergeant.”

His tone meant business, you know better than to chase after him. You sit on the bench, staring at the cigarette on the ground. It’s beaten and crushed like you feel right now.

You wonder if you can still taste his lips on it.

The walk of shame back to your room is humiliating, you pass some others that can’t sleep, nightmares aren't anything special around here and you wish you could pluck the worries from their heads.

Sleep is easy after that, maybe your body wants to make you forget the encounter with him but even so you dream of him. He’s an inescapable phantom.

—

“Aye there she is!!” Soap hollers from across the pub, it’s a quaint place, quiet enough to not be annoying but lively enough to not feel desolate.

A large corner booth is what they occupy and you wave as you make your way over, A few empty glasses scatter the table already you arrived ‘fashionably late’.

“Hey bonnie I gotta take a leak you can have my seat yea?” He nudges Ghost so he can be let out of the booth, Ghost stands towering over you. Soap shuffles over to the bathroom and Ghost  lets you slide into the booth before he follows, trapped between the wall and him. You’d rather be under him…

You greet them all and Gaz slides you a tall glass of something mind numbing, Ghost has his mask down but he’s nearly finished with his glass same with the rest of them.

“You got some catching up to do, miss fashionably late.” Gaz shoots a smile and you clink your glasses together.

Soap meanders back and pulls a chair to sit at the end of the table, you all squabble over what a better drink is and down rounds after rounds. The conversation somehow gravitates to relationships at some point and Soap is going on and on about this woman he met at the pub down the street.

“Oh she’s a real sweetheart, thinking about asking her out later this week when I get the balls to do it.”

You smile at the way Soap talks about her, you’d love to be admired like that, treasured.

“I think you should go for it Johnny! You're a nice guy, I can go in there and talk you up if you want, say you fought off ten men to save my life.”

He laughs, nearly tipping off his chair, 

“You’re a real wingman Y/N, if you can secure a date by all means.”

You smile and the air is joyous, little is heard from Ghost but you know he likes seeing the team happy, he sips his drink and observes, smiles hidden by his mask.

“Have you had any luck on the dating scene Y/N?” 

Gaz questions, eyebrows rising.

“Yea bonnie, never hear a peep out of you when we talk about lovey dovey shit.”

You shrug, taking strong sips of your drink.

“I went on a date a while back, he got me flowers, a real nice guy. Found out he was sleeping with my friend behind my back around the fourth date. Don’t really want to try anymore, end of story.”

You can feel Ghost’s eyes burning into you as you finish the sentence. His gaze is addicting and you feel sweaty locked in his stare.

“Well he’s a proper twat for messing it up with you then yea?” 

Price offers a tip of his head, sympathy in his eyes.

“Ah it’s alright, I’ll just wait for my prince charming to come sweep me off my feet.” You bat your lashes dramatically and fake a swoon, soothing the old memory with jokes. It turns the tide of the table ambiance to a lighter one.

“I need to piss.” Ghost says quickly, you scoot out of the seat and Ghost hurries off to where Johnny has gone to earlier.

“What’s up his arse?” Gaz says confused.

Price downs the last of his drink and slams it back onto the table.

“What do you all say to a game of pool?”

“I’ll watch, cheer ya’ll on.” You still nurse your drink and you start to buzz, worries slipping away like papers, but one it left, weighted down with a large paperweight.

“I’ll be right there, gonna finish this drink off.” Soap says, sloshing the leftover liquid that's in his glass.

“Very well, see you momentarily.”

Soap watched the two walk off, leaving the two of you left alone.

He turns back quickly, you get secondhand whiplash.

“Ghost has had his eyes on you the whole night please tell me you told him and he confesses his secret love for you!” Soaps eyes are huge and he’s pleading for the right answer.

“Not exactly.” He delfates.

“What the fuck do you mean ‘not exactly’?”

“I told him that I kinda wanted him and he said he wouldn't be able to give me what I want.”

“That's bollocks and you know it! He’s always watching you, never seen him doing that for any other lass. Now is the time, he’s all alone. Go on and chat him up, I’ll tell the boys you’ve gone home sick alright.” 

Soap winks and leaves before you can utter another word. You even your breathing and gulp down the rest of the liquid courage before strolling over to the bathroom hallway. It does not take guys that long to pee weird he's not around.

You walk outside, feeling deja vu from last night the breeze hits the same way.

“You should go inside, it’s cold out.” Ghost is standing leaned up against the brick wall next to the door.

“I was looking for you actually.”

He stands up straighter, shoulders held further.

“Lads looking? Not really in the mood to lose another game. Last time was enough.”

You laugh, the alcohol making it easier to relax around him. You're tipsy enough to have fake confidence for the time being but sober enough to make deductions wisely.

“No Simon, I’m looking. For you.”

“And I told you to stop, you don’t know what you’re thinking. You’re a nice girl yea? Find a nice young guy that can take you on dates and buy you flowers-

“I don’t want anyone else Simon. I want you because I’m in love with you!”

It seems like the whole world went silent after you said that. You’re steaming and don’t move your eyes away from him.

“Y/N.”

“I’m tired of pretending. I just had to tell you I couldn't hold it in any longer it was making me sick. I don’t care about fancy stuff, you should know that by now. I just want to be next to you.”

He approaches you, your neck craning to maintain contact.

“Y/N, I’m proper fucked up you know that? You’re too kind, too perfect to be ruined by a man like me.”

You sniff, the cold getting to you.

“I think you’re wonderful Simon really. You look out for everyone and make sure everyone is alright before looking after yourself. Let me please show you you’re worth loving in return.”

Your heart spills to him, spewing it’s contents violently.

“I’m not joking, I'm not ‘prince charming’ like you referenced earlier.”

“Even better.” You smile.

“Fuck it.”

Before you know it, he lifted the small portion of his mask to kiss you and you erupt, wrapping your arms securely around his neck as though you’ll fall if you don’t. His hands hover over your waist and you grab them and push them down onto your body and he pulls you close. He kisses you like it’s the last time, he makes up for all the times he should have, all the time he desperately wanted to.

He’s watched from afar for so long, your laugh creates sparks in his heart, seeing you make it back from another mission safely spurs him on. He would lay down his life for you and you don’t even know it.

He pulled back, mouth in the crook of your neck.

“Your place is nearby right?” You ask, rubbing his neck and down his back.

“Yea, yea it is.”

He leads you back, back to his den where he’ll draw you in with those eyes and that voice, calloused hands exposed from his gloves that will trace over your skin. The walk is in silence but you both are buzzing, the team won’t miss you, probably happy this chasing game is over with so peace can be established once more. He takes your hand as he leads you up the steps to his apartment, you grope his arm and he shoots you a sultry side-eye.

“Have I ever told you I love your arms?”

“You did just now love.”

Love, love, love. You want him to keep saying it.

He leads you in you’re caged in by his arms on the inside of the door. He looks you over head to toe.

“You look fuckin lovely tonight you know that? All I’ve been thinking about is tearing this top off of you and stripping you down.”

You shiver and bring your hands to run carefully from his abdomen up to his chest.

“You think of ripping my clothes off frequently?”

“Very.”

Stunned by his words and your head swimming he places his hands on your waist and lowers his head to your ear.

“Now if you’d allow me, I’d like to fuck you now.”

Hypnotized you speak.

“Yes please.”

His home is lowly lit and sparsely decorated, you assume he’s not here often or for long.

The bedroom is simple, a bed, two side tables, two lamps, and a dresser. An adjacent bathroom you can’t see.

“You have a nice place.”

“Well now I know you’re lying.”

You stand at the edge of the bed and he stands before you and his hands are on you again pushing you onto the bed you are surrounded by the smell of him, the deep umber and woodsy scent. 

“You know how many times I’ve pictured you in my bed?”

He’s inching your pants down your hips agonizingly slow as he speaks.

“How many times I fucked myself picturing you instead?”

“Ghost.”

“Nah none of that here, you’re gonna say my real name from now on and you’re gonna scream it alright?”

“Fuck Simon.”

“Yea. Just. Like. That.” Your pants are off and his hands move from your ankles up to your knees and caress to your inner thighs. His fingers skate your pantyline and your eyes are locked on his hand and he doesn't stop. His hands move over your hips and grip your waist before moving right below your breasts, he checks you with his eyes and you plead silently.

He cups you fully with both hands and you roll your head savoring his feelings.

“So fucking good love fuck.”

He strips you of your shirt and bra and you’re left exposed on his bed. He stands back to stare down upon you and you feel like a spread of food sitting on a stark white table ready to be consumed and ogled. He strips himself of his leather jacket leaving his quite form fitting black tee on.

You adjust under his gaze, his mask hides any expression but his eyes say so much. Raking over your body heavily and his chest rising and falling fast as though he had run a marathon.

“Simon.”

“Yea?”

“Do something.”

“Like what?” His voice is lighter now.

“Anything Simon!”

He laughs and places a knee in between your legs, spreading them wide to accommodate his other leg and hips.

“There we go, fuck all spread out underneath me.”

His hand is placed on your breast and rolls your nipples in his fingers, it moves down never leaving your skin until he reaches your core it’s hot and wet and he collects it on his fingers and when he finally touches you it’s like you’ve reached Valhalla. 

He slips a finger inside and it faces no resistance, you form around him and he slips in another starting a smooth rhythm.

“So tight, you think you’ll be able to take me huh love?” 

He’s pumping in you and you can hear how wet he’s made you, his eyes darting from his fingers to your face, thrown into pleasure.

He brings you to your peak so quickly you’re stunned and you grip his arm as you clench around him, his name being pulled from you like a mantra.

 You regain your mind and look at him as he slips from you and his fingers make their way under his mask, his eyes on your as he licks them clean tasting you on him.

“Sweetest fucking thing I ever tasted.”

He’s unbuckling his belt next, unzips his pants and pulls himself free. He's thick as all hell and a thick vein runs down the underside. It looks heavy and you pocket an idea for next time.

You're staring for a long time and his two fingers that just did unspeakable things to you tip your chin to look at him.

“Think you can handle it?”

“I can take it, just hurry up.”

“You’re always so impatient you know that.”

He places the tip at your entrance collecting your wetness to help with the initial push.

The stretch is delicious and you grip his arm and shoulder gasping at the feeling of being full of him.

“Fuck. Fuck you’re so fucking tight, squeezing me so fucking good.”

His one arm is braced at the side of your head, forearm spattered with tattoos burning your peripheral vision. The other holds himself, leading himself into you.

He’s seated fully inside and you feel split down the middle in the best way. Burning fire deep within you and you moan for him to move, creating the friction you need.

He starts moving and you both moan, he tips his head forward to watch where he enters you repeatedly.

“So good, fuck so big Simon.”

“You take it so well, love.”

His hand that once gripped himself holds your hip and moves himself like the ocean, fluid and rhythmic.

“Always dreamt about fucking you, you spread out of my bed while I fuck my cock deep into you.”

You throw your head back and he leans back, the warm air that was between you two leaving for the cold air of the room bringing your nipples to hard peaks which his eyes gravitate to.

“Alright c’mon love.”

He takes your ankles and your legs are on his shoulders. He thrusts that much deeper and hits the right spot to make you see spots.

“You like that, fuck I can see how deep I’m going in you.” 

His hand finds your and puts it on your lower stomach and pushes down so you can feel the way he thrusts within you and how deep he reaches, you clench around him.

“Yea you like that.” He's cocky like this, dominant and all controlling. You’re putty in his hand.

“Simon I’m close don't stop please, fuck please.”

He lifts his mask up over his lips and kisses your ankle, biting your calf when he growls and that's all you need to be pushed over the edge.

“Fuck, yea cum on my cock good fucking girl.”

He fucks you through it and leans down to be face to face again. Your legs draped over his shoulders and he hits the right spot with each thrust now, he’s battering you into the mattress and his growling with each thrust muttering about how good you feel and how nicely you wrap about him.

You claw at his chest through his shirt sobbing and babbling and moaning.

“Can’t even form a proper sentence, so drunk on my cock yea? You gonna be a good girl and cum again for me?”

The graphic noises from where the two of you are joining echos through the room and you hope his neighbors aren't home.

“Yes, yes Simon please please please.”

The bed is an orchestra of noises and he shoots a hand up to the headboard, his knuckles gone white from gripping it so hard. Your abdomen is tight, so tight and your so fucking close you just want to cum at the same time as him.

“Fuck fuck fuck, so tight and wet where do you want me to cum, fucking tell me.”

“Inside me, inside me it’s safe.”

Not a beat after that leaves your mouth he’s seating himself so deep within you, you feel him throbbing deep within you and your vision goes blurry, ears gone fuzzy as you both are thrown into the abyss at the same time. 

You hear a crack from above you but you pay no mind as your neck deep in pure white hot bliss.

“Fuckin hell love, really. Fuck.” He's panting, you’re panting.

You stroke his chest lovingly as he kisses your ankle as he slowly lowers your legs from his shoulders. He lowers his mask once more.

You glace up to where his hand still grips the headboard and a deep crack is ingrained in the wood.

You laugh.

“Jesus Simon, you fucked me so hard you broke your bed.” 

He removes his hand observing the wood and shrugging.

“Well worth it I’d say, I’ll invest in a sturdier one.”

“Are you saying you’ll invite me to your place more often?”

“Your place works too.”

You both banter as you both clean up, you shower and he washes the sheets and hangs around the kitchen, letting you some time to refresh.

You come out of the bathroom smelling like him, drowned in one of his shirts and he's leaned up against his kitchen island gazing blindly at the random rugby channel he turned on.

He slides you a beer and you take it gratefully, bumping your glasses together.

“I mean it Y/N, I’m not the kind of man you might be thinking.”

“No Simon, you’re exactly the man I’m looking for, you’re stuck with me now.”

There's a beat of silence before Simon speaks up again.

“I should probably thank Johnny for tonight right?”

“Yea, he pretty much told me to quit my bitching and confront you.”

He sips his beer, 

“Well, for once I can say thank fuck for Soap and his matchmaking skills.”

You laugh and stare at him in adoration, this is the start of something wonderful.

---

Tag list: @theredviolets

[starillusion13]

FOREIGN SWAGGERS

Pairing: Johnny x Jaehyun x Mark x f!reader (ft.Taeyong)

Genre: Fluff, Smut, Enemies to friends to lovers(?) BROTHER’s BEST FRIENDS Au

W/c: 8k

Warnings: mention of drinking, use of sex toys, birth control pills, sex w/o a wrap(don't do it sillies), they all are just horny for each other, four-some, dom!Johnny, dom!Jaehyun, dom!Mark, sub!fem, finger sucking, cum eating, nipple play, hickeys, manhandling, fingering, kissing, crying, afraid of left alone, overstimulation, masturbation, aftercare, comfort, lots of love (let me know what to add more)

Request from: @tazziexbunn (sorry I made you wait for it so long)

Note: please I want to thanks to people for reading and reblogging. Reviews are always appreciated . Applause to the ones who come up to me to interact and they know how friendly I am. Okay enough!

Special mention of @acescavern thanks for helping when I was stuck due to writer's block. A true friend indeed.

MINORS PLEASE DO NOT INTERACT UNDER THE POST!

Family holidays are meant to be having great bonding times and sharing some good moments with your loved ones. The feelings between the individuals deepens and these become the treasured memories in future. But what exactly are the feelings here? The feelings can be between friends, the couples, children and elders, siblings, colleagues, and so on. Sometimes, you meet some new faces and bond with them if the minds click with each other. But also sometimes, some known faces who seemed to be distant as you tried to ignore them appears.

It's okay until you have some distraction. But what if they are the distraction?

 And something like that happened when you were planning holidays with your family. It was a summer break and usually you all plan for a trip to some places where you all are having in mind altogether but this time, your brother’s three friends tagged along.

They are your brother’s childhood friends and you almost have seen them often like the times they stayed back at your house for sleepovers, gaming nights, school projects and assignments. You never tried to be friends with them because it was pretty much obvious that they always tried to ignore you. They hate you.

There is nothing to complain about them hating on you as the feelings is mutual. You haven’t ever appreciated their presence around you. What’s with them always popping out of nowhere in your house. They are your brother’s friends but it’s not like you are even their enemy. They are typically non-existent to you. As if you can’t see them but deep down you are cursing regularly whenever you bump into one of them. They are all so attractive that sometimes you steal glances of them. Of course, oblivion to them.

Well, you all grew up hating each other. Obviously.

The family holidays are always the exciting ones to you and the first one to initiate the plannings for the trip has always been you.

And that time, it was the same with you running down the stairs with your laptop in hand and your brother scolding behind you to be careful because if the laptop breaks, he has to buy you again but it doesn’t matter if you fall down.

What a caring brother!

“Mom…Dad…we are going to this place and that’s final. I have asked you so many times. Please.” You were literally whining while placing your laptop on the center table and crouching down beside it.

Your brother’s laugh echoed the place and you groaned before glaring at him.

“They won’t be agreeing with you. I bet.” He leaned back into the sofa across from you and put his hands behind his head. He poked out his tongue at you like a child.

You swear he has not yet grown up after five.

“It’s more like you don’t agree. You should support me but instead you just have to be the mamas boy in front of mom. You are a loser. Well always looks like one.” You spat at him.

“Yah! Shut up. Have you seen the ladies in my workplace drooling over me. My handsome face and everything I do just makes them delusional. Loser is you, not me.” You wanted to punch off that smug off from his face.

“Yeah sure…that’s why your girlfriend dumped you last week”

“Shut up!”

Both of your glares got smacked away by your mother.

“Why don’t you guys try to behave like your age?” your mother shook her head in disappointment.

“Taeyong has started it. I was just excited for the trip but he has to ruin my mood.” You sulked.

“No mom. I just said the truth and she got mad at me. This angry bird is annoying.”

“What did you just tell me?”

 Your mother again smacked both of you and then you were totally shut. She was not scolding you enough and that only meant she was in a good mood and was about to deliver some good news.

you waited to hear whatever she was going to say.

She started off with an old story of school days and you were invested into it. Your laptop was long forgotten and your whole attention was on your mom.

It went with jumping off from one topic to another and finally the most awaited speech of the day from her was delivered. She was very happy in the end of the explanation and you were still contemplating the situation and your brother was already on his feet excitedly.

“No way. You are leaving me and Taeyong to go for vacations alone.” You were in disbelief.

He scoffed, “You are telling it the way as if you dont want to go and I’m going to sell you off.”

“Who knows maybe you can?” You stared back at him.

“That’s true though. Atleast you will be of some use by then.”

Your mother smacked his arm, “Oh you two shut it now and listen to me. As me and your dad are going back to our home-town so you are free to go anywhere as you are grown up adults. But the behaviours don’t really prove it but still you don’t get such opportunities often.”

Taeyong was quick to ask, “Can I go to this vacation with my friends?”

Your mother nodded.

You gulped and hesitantly asked, “That means I can go to L.A.?”

“of course. But on one note, no one should go alone. Wherever you are going, you should go together or you are not allowed. He is going with his friends so Y/n, go with them.” Your mother smiled.

You sighed, “no thanks. I would rather stay at home than going with his friends.”

“Y/n dear…I cant leave you all alone and he can take care of you.”

You stood up and ran to your room. You were annoyed. But with whom? With yourself. It’s not like you didn’t like to go with your brother. You both love each other a lot but his friends are the only problems.

You heard someone knocking at your door but you didn’t reply and then when you heard the creak of the door.

Taeyong placed the laptop on your desk and sat beside you. You looked away and scooted away from him.

“I will not go with my friends. Let’s go together.” He sounded sad.

You shook your head and looked back at him, “no it’s okay. I don’t want to ruin your plans.”

 “hey its not like that…if you are uncomfortable with them then we can go alone. Really.” He assured you and you smiled back.

“I’m not uncomfortable or such. I am never been close with them. It’s because I feel like they hate me and they don’t like me around. It will just make me look like an outcast among us.” You pout.

He laughed and ruffled your hairs, earning a groan and hit to his arm.

“they never hate you. More like they always told me I’m lucky that I have a pretty and sweet sister like you. They never talked to you or approached as a friend because of your over protective brother. I didn’t trust those horny teenagers around you.”

You both laughed and somewhere you felt as if you just had contemplated their behaviours in a wrong way. So like them bumping into you was not to annoy you but they wanted to talk to you but your brother was being a barrier back then. is that right? Well, you also never really tried to become friends with them. So there was a lack in efforts from both the sides. What about now?

“Are we and your friends going to L.A.?” you asked.

He nodded and added, “if only you are comfortable.”

“It’s okay as far as they will appreciate me to consider a friend.”

“They will.”

.

.

.

It’s been thirty minutes that you were waiting for your frien—oh wait your brother’s friends.

The loud shout from your brother signalled you that his friends had arrived and so you looked up from your phone and craned your neck to watch where your brother ran to.

His excitement is always on another level when it comes to his friends. He really has some true friends unlike you.

They hugged with each other and then walked to where you were waiting. As soon as they were in front of you, you stood up and greeted them with a little smile on your face. They were hesitant at first but Johnny took the lead to extend his hand to shake hands with you. Wow, it’s the first time in the lifetime, you are standing so near to him and them.

“Hey Y/n…you grew up into a beautiful lady…I haven’t seen you in years after you all moved from the hometown.” Johnny stated with a genuine smile on his face.

Him initiating the conversation was a relief or you would have stuttered or never been able to form any words.

“yeah...it’s really been years. You look…good, Johnny.”

He smiled and nodded to your words.

Good? No, Fucking handsome. You wanted to scream it at his face because you have never seen him in such close up view and honestly your brother’s friends are freaking whole meal. You need to calm down and shut up because you don’t want to make it obvious to them and your brother. You sent him a smile.

Your brother and Johnny left for the check-ins, leaving you with Jaehyun and Mark. You gulped and looked around as you were in a very awkward situation. But you didn’t notice yet, Jaehyun’s gaze was boring holes into you and mark was looking between you and his friend.

“You look pretty...I mean really pretty…wow do I sound desperate? But it’s true.” Mark licked his lips and held your gaze when you looked at him.

A smile cracked on your face and you thanked him.

"you look cool as well."

He was eager to talk to you more and now you knew how friendly he was and it would be comfortable to be around him. When you looked at the other person in your group. He was already staring back at you. He was serious, with no emotions visible on his face and he sucked his cheeks inside.

You gulped in nervousness because the feelings of uneasiness rising up was making you suffocate even when the waiting area was so spacious and huge. You didn't know what was the reason for the uneasiness: him or the flight.

Your brother called you three from afar and you were the first one to almost run to your brother. The eyes of the other two behind you were following you. Mark laughed a bit and the corner of Jaehyun’s lip curled up.

Mark, Jaehyun and you got your seats together and on the other side Johnny, Taeyong and a random boy were having their seats. You told Taeyong to ask Johnny to switch seats with you but he told you that it would be better if you spend time with them and then you could be friends before reaching there.

You pouted and sulked in your seat. You sat in the middle one because mark had already claimed to not sit on the window seat and he hates middle one. Also, you were not a fan of window seats so you chose middle and it would be better because you will have mark’s company. Jaehyun was last to enter and he sat on his seat and closed his eyes.

Was he tired or ignoring you?

You didn’t mind his presence but getting interested in hearing Mark’s passion on rap and dancing. His eyes were shining when he was sharing about his likings and hobbies.

But as soon as you felt the wheels moving on the runway, the feeling of uneasiness returned from earlier. You turned to your front and closed your eyes tightly. Your one hand gripping Mark’s sleeves of his full sleeve t-shirt. And the other hand clutching the armrest. Nails digging deeper. You were feeling nauseous and then something unexpected happened.

“Take deep breaths. You will be fine.” You heard whisper from the side of window seat. A hand entangled with yours and clutching it in a soothing way. Thumbs rubbing your skin to calm down. Another hand patted your other hand which was clutching the sleeves.

Slowly, you parted your eyelids to see Jaehyun leaning towards you in worry and his hands were entangled with yours and Mark was patting your other hand with same worry visible on your face.

And what about your brother? He was busy joking with Johnny. But you didn’t know, he was having the same worry and was in panic, Mark assured him that he would handle it.

he will take care of you.

You breathed through your mouth and gulped. Mark patted your head before he went back to whatever he was doing on his phone.

You looked over to Jaehyun and again he was emotionless. “Thank you.”

As you tried to pull away your hand, he held it tighter. Your gaze fell on his veiny hands, veins visible in those smooth buttery skin. His skin was better than yours. Your eyes were trailing upward slowly and slowly and stopped on his lips, they were so pinkish and kissable. WTF! No no not kissable. You met his eyes.

“You can sleep if you feel sick. I won’t mind but don’t even dare to puke on me.”

“I don’t puke…” you pout.

He scoffed and looked away towards the window and it was night but still he had a sunglass over his head. It was adding to his attractiveness.

He patted his shoulder and you frowned.

“What?”

“Sleep…you are annoying.”

You scoffed. Perfect best-friend of your brother. If he was already mad without doing anything then you would rather sleep and be an annoying burden on his shoulder.

.

.

.

Earlier Mark squeezed your cheeks hard and woke you up from peaceful sleep and so you were mad because Taeyong does the same to annoy you when he wakes you up.

Why all his friends are similar to him?

You were still in sleepy mood and were walking towards the hotel room in a daze.

You got a separate room from them. You were so happy that this time you don’t have to share a room with your brother again. Taeyong and Jaehyun were roommates and Johnny and Mark were in the room across from yours beside the other pair.

It was already afternoon when you reached the hotel so you didn’t have much plan for the day so you guys went off to some individual activities in exploring the place. Taeyong offered you to come along with him and Mark but you assured him that you won’t be wandering too far from the hotel.

As far as the first day, the trip was fine. You really had a great evening with making new friends at record shops. They had same music taste similar like yours. You exchanged your IG ids with those three girls and you were happy since that.

The next day it was totally a siblings day with you two exploring the famous places in L.A. You knew that was the only option to spend a day only with him or other days, he wont be leaving his friends behind. You really did argue, fight, clicking pictures and especially eat a lot. It ended with all five of you having your dinner at a fancy restaurant.

Everything was going well until the fourth day of the trip.

You all went to the beach in front of your hotel and you wore a beach dress. Of course, you would have worn a bikini but somehow Taeyong sternly told you to not wear all those in front of his friends or you were not going. You were mad but still you agreed and trailed behind them. Johnny was talking with you a lot since last night. He was often asking you if you were comfortable or feeling left out but you were quick to wave it off as nothing.

Thinking of last night, you remember how you both spent the night in the terrace of your floor in the hotel.

“Cant sleep?”

You got startled and looked behind to see Johnny in a white t-shirt and sweat pants walking towards you. You shook your head.

“It’s not like that. I am just not that tired.”

He chuckled, “it was such a long day and still you are not tired?”

“Yeah. I usually don’t sleep whenever I go for a vacation and I love to spend time with the new environment.”

He nodded and watched the waves hitting the shore and loud roars of the waters could be heard. It was a refreshing feeling after a long day. His fingers moved up to your face to tug your hairs behind the ears. You both smiled at each other.

“Do you have a boyfriend?”

 It was an unexpected question but was quick to make you flustered.

“N-no. I don’t.”

“Good.”

“Huh?”

“It’s good that bad boys didn’t got their ways with you…”

“Y/n…Wont you go down into water with us?”

Mark’s voice barely audible due to the loud music. Still, you managed to answer and you shook your head telling him how you didn’t want to soak your pretty sundress. But that was not his intention. As you were looking around. He scooped you from behind and ran with you towards the others.

“Mark…please don’t…I said no..”

“Come on, don’t be a joy-kill.”

With that he threw you into the water but still holding your upper half so that you don’t get hurt for the jump being so sudden.

As soon as you stood up and removed the hairs from your face, you glared at mark jokingly and he laughed it off. His white shirt and shorts were already soaked. Taeyong and Johnny were shirtless with surfboard in their hands, showing off their tattoos. On other side Jaehyun was also shirtless and was recording in his hand-cam.

His cam fixed in your direction and he zoomed in. You stared back at the lens. He smiled at the portrait of yours visible on the screen. His thumb caressed your face. You smiled behind the camera and ‘click’.

Someone splashed water from your side and Johnny was laughing for what he did.

Jaehyun joined in too.

Johnny stifled his laugh and spoke up, “Girls vs Boys.”

“I am the only girl here. This is not fair.” You whined.

Taeyong volunteered to take your side and Johnny teased him, “Oh Y/n look, that man is your girl.”

Taeyong threw some water and tangled his arm around his neck and Jaehyun splashed water at you with Mark taking the both sides for maintaining equal members and that’s how it went on with you all laughing and enjoying with each other in your own world.

Maybe they are not bad as you thought.

.

.

.

Taeyong’s intolerance of alcohol was known by everyone except him. He always insisted that he can handle a lot amount but would definitely pass out after half of the bottle. It was pretty strong. The four friends were having night pool party in the rooftop and it was pretty late and Taeyong suddenly banged his head on the table.

Oh he is wasted. The strong boy is sleeping now.

Jaehyun called you three times to check on you and let you know that they were going down and as earlier Taeyong stated that you asked him to bring a cocktail from the party. So, instead of your brother, he took the responsibility.

Three missed calls and you didn’t pick up. They were sure that before going to sleep. You would let Taeyong know about it but now they were panicked.

Johnny rushed down. He didn’t wait for the elevators and run down the stairs and rest two were bringing Taeyong down to the room.

Where were you?

Johnny knocked on your door. He waited for a response but nothing was audible. Licking his lips, he was about to ring the bell when he heard a faint buzzing sound. He leaned to check his doubt. He was correct.

His hand hovered on the handle and he pushed open it. Again, you didn’t lock the door. But then he might not have got this opportunity.

he entered the room and took a turn.

Your mouth was agape and eyes closed with throaty moans and hands clutching the bedsheet with sprawled across on it. And a pink vibrator was attached to your black panty.

Shamelessly, he was watching you. His pant was getting tight in a particular place and he gulped. He was not even moving but standing still, watching you with hungry eyes. He waited for you to cum. By seeing your desperation, he was sure you were near the climax and he patiently waited in his place in silence. You moaned out Mark’s name when you came undone.

So, you were thinking about him?

He smirked at your exhausted state in just your lingerie. You were panting. If you had wore it at the beach then he could have seen you like this earlier. You look sexy in bikinis and he was getting impatient to tear off the piece of clothes and have you in every way.

The ring of his phone made your eyes shot open and you hurriedly sat up. He picked up the call with holding your gaze. You gulped to see his dark eyes.

Jaehyun was on the call. Johnny’s voice echoed inside the room.

"Come to Y/n's room." He didn't say anything more but chuckled after he cut the call.

Like a predator he walked around the bed and you were sitting in the middle, still fazed by the orgasm. He bent to your side and before you could realize it, he snatched away the remote from your hand.

"What are you doing here?" You asked in a broken voice. He raised his brows and titled his head, "did you say something?"

he had a dominance in his voice.

"You should not be here" you gulped and raised your voice a bit, "if my brother finds out."

"Oh listen darling, your brother won't know what is going to happen and even if your brother finds out, it will be too late."

You heard the door open and shut and sound of the lock. Jaehyun and Mark emerged from the corner of the room.

"Oh dude what are you doing here?" Mark was confused and looking between you and the tall man. "I see our little princess was having her little fun without us." Jaehyun smirked as he noticed the vibrator and the remote in his friend's grasp.

"Shut up. You three. What are you even doing here? Where is Taeyong?"

"He is knocked out halfway through." Mark chuckled.

Johnny paced to the edge of the bed and in front of you. He smirked while scanning your whole body. He has never seen you in such a way and he was amused that you were not even telling them to go out. "Oh Mark. You know, she was calling you earlier."

"Really but why?" Mark was smiling but he was curious.

"Darling, are you telling them or should I do the honor?" Johnny was crouching down in front of you, resting his hand on the edge of the bed and staring at you. "I—I don't know what you are saying."

Johnny chuckled, "oh don't say like you weren't moaning out his name." "What?" You were surprised to know that he heard you. For how long was he there?

"Oh really?...I want to see that." Mark was excited.

Before you could protest, the sound of vibrator earned a gasp from you. You watched how Johnny had a smug look and Jaehyun whispered something into his ear, widening his grin.

You watched in horror that they were exchanging glances and communicating between them. your head fell low and hands clutching the bedsheet tightly and you leaned forward.

The vibration was in low mode and you wanted more. no you needed more. You closed your eyes and focused on the sound and vibration filling you up. The tightening of the knot but still the feeling of emptiness was there because the speed was too low. You panted out. "More...fast please..."

“You are asking for more from your brother’s friends? Won’t you ask us to go?”

You were whining and your hand hovered over the vibrator to rub it against your folds and press it deeper.

Someone held you back. And you cry out. The vibration increased and you leaned backward, throwing your head back on the person's shoulder. The same whispering voice from the plane. "Is it okay now, princess? Don't you dare to do anything. We are here to take care of you."

Your hands were locked by him and his bare chest was against your hot body, earning groans from him. Every little squirm of yours was making him painfully hard. There was a reek of alcohol from them.

You were reaching to the climax and it was very obvious and the way Jaehyun's husky groans filling your ears. You swear you will come soon.

"Are you near?" You nodded.

Jaehyun chuckled into your ears and licked it, "words, princess." "Y—yes Jaehyun...Jo—hhny."

"It's daddy for you." Johnny said in a darker voice. Your back arched and you leaned back to Jaehyun as you were about to get loose but Johnny had some other plans.

You were whimpering, "why? Please daddy...I want to cum."

he turned the vibrator off.

"No. You had your fun earlier and now it's for us to have our turn."

He climbed the bed in front of you and hovered over you. You tried to scoot back and get away from the hold but they held you in place.

"Mark I guess someone is impatient."

Mark nodded on Johnny's statement and watched your watery eyes staring back at Johnny in a frustrated expression.

"I heard she was moaning my name and I really want to see how it's going to be when I literally will fuck her."

"Oh you will. But you can wait for your turn. Let me make my darling taste a bit of my fun." Johnny was using the nickname casually but it was turning you on.

He hooked a finger with your panty and slid it down very slowly. His movements were painfully slow and you couldn't even do anything to get rid of the little piece of clothing faster.

He let it hung at one of your ankles and pushed your legs apart, you were pressing them too tight.

He placed himself between them so that you couldn't close your legs and he dipped a finger inside of your wet folds. You moaned and raised your hips into his hand when he pressed your belly down. "Uh uh you are not getting like this...patience is the key here. Look you are so needy that you didn't attend the party because you were off into your little world."

Mark added, "if she had asked us then we would have had the fun together."

Watching how you were not catching on with the conversation, Johnny curled his finger, keeping the same pace from earlier. When he watched you squeezing his second finger in so easily. He pulled his hand out and pushed it inside your parted lips. "Suck."

You were not needed to say twice and you rolled your tongues around his fingers and licked your juices off.

"Princess is doing so good."

Jaehyun had a cheerful tone and then suddenly Johnny slapped your pussy to get your attention back on him before pulling down his pant. You were so impatient and didn't want him to take longer. Jaehyun unhooked your bra but still your front was covered. His hands caressed your bare back and you shivered to his touch.

Johnny's yellow shirt was unbuttoned and your now freed hands went up to touch the biceps. He chuckled and held your wrist to guide you through his muscles. You were so distracted when he suddenly entered you. You cried out because of the size and stretch and the pain was unbearable. Johnny had a satisfied look on his face but soon changed into a worry when he saw your wrinkled forehead and you were wiggling on Jaehyun’s lap.

Your eyes rolled back when he started moving. The pace began with slow and deep movements and each move burned the connected soft area. Johnny was groaning above you and his fingers were tightly entangled with yours, pressing down your palms into the mattress. His loose shirt rode up and the flexing muscles were visible.

“Fuck Y/n…I didn’t know that sweet little one…has such a good pussy.” Johnny increased his pace and your moans became louder.

Your sweet moans earned a shaky groan from a corner of the room. You looked over to the place to see Mark was pumping himself with his head thrown back and cursing and moaning out your name. He was imagining the image of how it was you when moaning out his name when you were pleasuring yourself.

Jaehyun chuckled, “Oh Johnny, she likes to get fuck by her brother’s best friends.”

“Is that right, Y/n?” Johnny asked you but your foggy mind didn’t register the question. So, he gripped your jaw and forced to make you look at him. Your teary eyes stared back at him when he slowed the movements.

“I asked you something, darling. Do you like getting fucked by your brother’s best friends?”

You clenched around him on hearing his question.

“Yes…yes daddy…I like to be fucked by you…I—I want to be fucked by you all.” You whined when he pushed deeper but continued in sloppy movements.

His smirk widened and head dipped in the crook of your neck. He sucked and kissed all your sensitive spots. He pulled down the bra and sucked your nipples. He was leaving red marks all over your chest and throat. Your nipples were erect and hard and when he was sucking it hard, you were losing your mind. “Fuck…it’s so good.”

“Is it feeling good? Johnny making you feel good?”

You moaned out, “Yes Jaehyun, he is making me feel good. I—I want to cum please…please…”

The fast thrusts were almost ripping you apart into two and his moans and groans into your ear was nearing you so much that your tears were streaming down. The sloppy sound and your moans filling out the room. But Johnny hushed you with a heated kiss. He was hungry. Teeth clashing to each and biting down your lips, making you gasp and clench around him. He was hungry to finally have his best friend’s sister under him. The sister his friend protected too much from them was now whimpering under and that boosted his ego.

“Cum…ah-Fuck…” You both came undone together.

Mark cursed out at the same time with both of you.

You were floating with blurry vision and he rode out his high. He pulled out and chuckled at your fucked out state. Before any juice could leak out of you, he pressed your legs together. He started at you but you cut him off.

“I am on birth control pill.” You stated.

“Why? Were you expecting something like this to happen?” Johnny chuckled and stood up.

“No. but just in case…” Johnny pecked your lips. You were surprised as to why he did it but you let the kiss linger on you longer.

Mark interjected, “So you were planning to have a one-night stand on this trip somewhere?”

You licked your lips and nodded, “yeah something like that.” You closed your eyes to take deep breaths. Johnny excused himself after putting on the pant and went to his room.

You heard shuffles around your bed and before you knew what was happening, Jaehyun was smiling down at you from between your legs. You tried to scoot back but he pressed you down with a smirk and dark look on his face.

He was serious with dark eyes just contrast to the white unbuttoned shirt on him. He looks good in white and later you have to compliment him about that.

“What are you thinking, princess?” he asked you while positioning himself to your entrance.

“you look good in white.” you finally complimented him.

He smiled, “thanks princess. But I would look better with your white cum around my dick.”

His tip toying with your folds. You whined and Mark laughed when he sat beside you. He removed your bra and threw it away. Jaehyun thanked Mark and started pumping your breasts. You gasped and moaned. Mark was staring at you with hooded eyes. Jaehyun flicked your nipples and pinched them.

It was paining but it was sending a pleasurable jolt throughout your body.

 He straightened himself and placed his palm over your breasts and pushed himself inside you. You gasped out loudly and he chuckled on feeling how you were still tight and clenching around him after his friend fucked you so hard earlier.

“you are taking me so well, princess.”

His pace was deeper and faster from the start and your sensitive bud was throbbing in pain. Skin slapping sound and his skill-full fingers drawing pattern over your curves and hands sliding smoothly all over your body. Your whines and his moans getting louder with each passing second and he leaned down to peck you. You opened your eyes and wiggled your hands from, under the grip of Mark’s strong hold. Your weak hands slid down Jaehyun’s soft skin and you smiled.

“Jaehyun…”

Why are you even smiling? He took a hold of your wrist and placed a kiss on your fingers.

“You are really pretty, Y/n…you were always pretty.”

He finally connected his lips with yours and you moaned into his mouth when he hit a right spot, making you arch into his body. Your hips moving up and down to get him more-close to you. As if it was even possible. He pressed you down and there was a sweet rhythm to the movement of his lips and hips.

You were lost in the kiss and gasping for air but he was sucking you so hard that the little air left inside you would be sucked out. He finally pulled apart and thrusted deeper. When you let out a broken moan, his hands moved up to grip your throat and with a moderate pressure, he pressed it tight.

“The innocent little sister of Taeyong is whining with my fingers wrapped around her throat and getting fucked. What will your brother think of you getting fucked by his best-friend?”

You couldn’t reply but mumbled something. Mark laughed and patted your head.

You whined and gasped. Your one hand gripped his wrist and other wiggling under his strong hold on your wrist. His mouth skillfully working on your nipples, leaving bruise marks around it. It was too much. You were overstimulated by all these pleasures in different parts. The pace became sloppy and both of you were near the edge.

“if you want to cum then cum. Cum on my dick and paint me white.” He said and put a little more pressure on the side of your throat. His voice vibrating on your nipples and his hot breath hitting around the sensitive area.

You gasped and let it loose as soon as his words fell from the lips. He thrusted faster and you whined. After a few more thrusts, he bottomed down into you. “fuck-“

 His hands were at the same place but weakly holding you, his head resting on your breast and he placed a soft and long kiss on your nipple before retreating himself.

Vulnerable was not a word for you. You were broken. Your body, your pulping veins, your sensitive used spots and your mind. Your broken voice couldn’t even dare to speak up anything more.

Mark.

You didn’t know what were the thoughts running through his mind. His two other friends were just monster fuckers. Thinking about him fucking you after they caught you moaning out his name was scratching a mark direct to your core.

You expected Jaehyun to leave but he propped himself on the sofa and leaned back with closed eyes and heaved a sigh.

Was he regretting?

Your attention was brought to Mark when he gripped your jaw and pulled your face to the side to face him. He was smirking unlike before when he was sweetly smiling at you. His jeans was long forgotten lying down on the floor and he pulled down the boxer. Your burning body was sensitive to a little amount of air caused by the swish of movements around you.

He was still sitting to your side, hand gripping your jaw. Your weak hands held his wrist dearly.

“mark…please fuck me.”

He poked his cheek with the tongue, “why? Didn’t Jaehyun gave you the satisfaction and also Johnny?”

As if on cut Johnny entered the room in a fresh set of trouser and a plain white t-shirt. He propped himself beside Jaehyun.

“What’s with my name?” Johnny’s voice made you squirm.

“I want you…no I need you, Mark. Please.” You literally begged. His smirk widened.

He suddenly hovered on top of you and you were surprised by his sudden fast movement. He was excited. Something in him shifted when you begged to him. He was no more that soft and excited friend like last four days. In front of you was a hungry monster who was ready to devour you.

His hands trailed down your curves. He pushed your legs up and watched how your hole was leaking down the juices and he groaned to the sight. He pushed up your swelled breasts and pumping them, earning whines and moans from you. Your tears were the most beautiful thing to him at the moment.

His hands trailed higher and rested on your jaw, fingers caressing your cheek. Your tired eyes still locked with his hooded ones.

“you will show me how you were moaning my name with this pretty mouth. Okay?”

You nodded. He slapped you and gripped your jaw.

“Okay?”

“Yes…Mark…I will show you...please…”

No prep was needed and so he pushed your legs apart as far as possible. He slowly entered you and your gasp got lost into his mouth when he pressed down his lips to you. Just like others, his kiss was also reeking of alcohol. You were getting drunk just by their kisses.

His kiss was between of hunger and making love. Once he was being a sweet kisser and the next moment, he was eating you out. His teeth sucking yours making it a plump.

His movements were slow. Too slow. You wanted more but the way he slapped your pussy when you moved up, you knew he was not giving you what you wanted.

He broke the kiss but his lips never left your heated skin, his lips pressing soft kisses on yours and trailed down to your jaw and then to the crook of your neck.

“Mark…”

“So that’s how you sound like baby…fuck…you are sucking me in so good...you sound so sexy...”

“More please…please Mark.”

You were crying and repeating his name like a chant. It was making him painfully hard to control himself not to cum again and again into you. His one hand pumping your breast and other caressing your head. He leaned to attach his lips to your left out nipple.

Every second was like a rising of burning flame. Your body was on fire. He was overstimulating you to hear his name from your lips on repeat. He didn’t want to end the moment so fast. He could hear your moans all day long if its need to fuck you everytime. His one hand dipped down to rub on your bud and you cry out before Johnny inserted a finger into your mouth. You quickly wrapped around his fingers to suck for your dear life.

“don’t want to let this whole floor know that how good your brother’s best friends are fucking you, right?” he asked you mockingly.

Mark added, “Taeyong might can wake up too.”

They laughed to see you in mercy of their friend and tears falling continuously from the eyes.

“Ah fuck- baby…fuck…are you near?”

You couldn’t reply when the finger was deep down your throat.

Mark swatted the hand away and gripped your jaw.

“Do you want to cum?”

Your vision was blurry but still you nodded and replied, “yes…yes Mark…please”

“then cum and say my name.”

You did as he told you. Your vision was white and your whole body jerked.

He was thrusting deeper and faster and soon he was panting on top of yours and hot liquid filling you up.

The same euphoric feeling rising up to your fuzzy mind.

Mark laid down beside you. You both were tired but no one was as compared to you.

“I guess someone is tired for the first time while on a vacation.” Johnny smiled at you before patting your head.

You dreamily smiled and nodded.

He asked Jaehyun to go back to his shared room with Taeyong or he might could get in trouble if Taeyong sees him missing in the room. He sent a smile towards you before laving with Johhny. It was only you and Mark.

“I will take care of you. I have promised, Taeyong.”

he promised Taeyong.

He let you sleep and as promised, he cleaned you up before cleaning himself. He tugged you to sleep. Before leaving the room, he watched you for a while how you were sleeping peacefully and something inside him was tugging not to leave you alone. But there was no choice. He turned off the lights and left the room with interlocking it.

He is just your brother’s best-friend.

.

.

.

The next morning when your mind registered that you were awake, you didn’t open your eyes. The first thought came to your mind was that you were all alone. They all just left you after fucking. You clutched the blankets tight, you cried silently. Was it just all about one night? Nothing more? Today you have to pretend as if nothing happened last night. Silent tears fall from your eyes.

“Are you okay? Do you need anything?” Taeyong’s worried voice and a warm hand on your cheek reminded you of their lingering touches on your skin.

You didn’t want to open your eyes. Even if you wanted to think of that as a dream but the soreness and the paining aches all over your body would be giving you reality check. Still. You didn’t want to worry your brother so you slowly looked at him and he was sitting by the side of your head, smiling a little.

“when I woke up, Jaehyun told me that you are feeling sick since last night and I was drunk so he took care of you.” He innocently said.

Took care of you.

Huh! And then left…

You nodded.

“You are crying…is your headache worse…do you need medicines?”

“headache?”

“yeah…he told me not to disturb you today. It’s better to let you rest for a while.”

Yeah. Headache. Rest for a while.

The words were not setting in right places.

He stood up, “I have to meet an university friend today who works at a company here so we are going to hang out today. So take some rest. Just call me if you need anything or I will tell one of them-“

“No I will call you.”

“Okay, see you later.”

And he turned to the space to get out of your room from where they all went last night. You didn’t hear your door closed but heard some talking between your brother and Johnny. His voice tugged at your heart. You were sitting on the bed, leaning against the headboard. You looked down to yourself wearing a t-shirt and shorts. A tear fell on your hand.

Why were you even crying?

It was all about you four being horny last night. Nothing more.

The close of door shut jolted you. You still didn’t look up but closed your eyes to let yourself understand that you shouldn’t be so sensitive of having sex with them.

“y/n…”

Did you hear right?

No no you were dreaming.

“y/n…are you okay?”

You looked up to see Mark looking at you with hurtful eyes. Is he regretting for the last night?

You didn’t reply. Two more figures emerged from the corner, what were they doing at door for so long.

“why are you here?” you whispered out the words.

“Isn't this the same thing you asked last night?” johnny stated.

You watched his movements when he came beside you and sat down to pat your head and comb your hairs with his long fingers. You fought back the urge to lean to his touch. Jaehyun sat to your other side and caressed your cheeks.

More tears streamed down your eyes.

Jaehyun wiped them off. “Why are you crying?”

“Don’t give me false hopes. I know you all are regretting for the last night and so you left or maybe you see it like a regular fun but please I…I don’t know how to feel now.”

“then don’t fight back.” Johnny said without any emotion visible.

Mark added, “y/n…it’s a very complicated situation we are in…we are your brother’s best friends and you are his sister. If somehow this last night becomes a problem between us then the friendship will be hampered. You are our friend too.”

Mark scooted closer to you.

“you all were the first ones to have sex with me…”

They didn’t reply but suddenly Mark pulled you in his embrace. You could feel a different set of hands caressing your back. You started crying in his hold. He patted your head.

“I know... you know we were never your friends but still we admired you since you were a baby. We have watched you every time how you whined for little things, your giggles, your sweet smile, your annoyed face whenever we showed up at your house and when your brother teasing you. Our eyes were always on you.” Mark words were dipped in softness.

You whispered, “I thought you all hated me.”

Johnny laughed, “never. It was your brother who never wanted us to be near you. He thought that his little sister should not be near us. He is good brother. He loves you a lot.”

He really is.

“I don’t want to leave you all after yesterday. I know I’m being selfish but I really don’t know why I'm feeling this but I cant handle if you all leave me.” You said and turned to rest two of them from Mark’s embrace, Jaehyun’s hands fall from your back.

Jaehyun added, “we don’t want to leave you too. Yesterday when I saw you in that state, I felt a possessiveness inside me that no one should get to look at you and I own you. So…..”

He looked at everyone and sighed.

“so?..” your soft voice tugged at their heart.

Johnny completed his sentence, “so we need to have a talk with Taeyong.”

“You all will?” you were surprised.

Mark turned you around, “don’t you want us? Or do you want only me?”

“All three of you. Call me selfish but I love you all.”

“We love you too, y/n. promise. we will take care of you.” Johnny said and placed a kiss on top of your head.

“she is still a baby.” Jaehyun said and laughed loudly.

The others also joined in. You clutched to Mark’s shirt and smiled a little before snuggling into the smell of his cologne.

Your brother kept you away from them. But then you became too close to them. Closer than being just friends. The foreign swaggers is your new memory of your holidays. It was meant to be a family holiday like every year. but this was different and the best.

Also, you don’t hate your brother’s best friends like you thought.

They are no more just your brother’s best friends. They are your hearts: the foreign swaggers.

Are you going to regret it?

thank me coz i was going to end it on a sad note but then I thought to make it a bit emotional and happy in the last moement.

Taglist: @mymoodwriting @justhere4kpop @anyamaris @yeoobin @icchyi @jwnghyuns @piratequeen-queenofgames @dinonuguaegi @oreharuuu @hwanring @sanwifesstuff @kiwiisnthereoops @kiwiraccoon @hyuukah @kazscara @aceofspadesbiofalltrades @sexygrass @minkyuncutie @loveforred

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

My tears ricochet

Next chapter

summary: There are thunder clouds in the horizon that threaten Eris’s chance of being a high lord. Rhys strikes a deal. The only thing left to find out now is who gets out of this deal alive?

warning: death, blood, enemies to lovers, fighting, forced arrangements, talk of marriage of convenience.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Things were changing in Prythian. With the length of fea lives, high lords didn’t change often. But when the shift did happen, it was as if someone were to open a beast's belly, and suddenly everyone was on the fence; the territory was for grabs, and others could gain something from the new weaker high lord until the power fully settled in him.

“I’ll need you with me tonight," Rhys said, slowly swirling his drink in the glass. The tension could be felt in all the courts, but Rhys had been deep in his thoughts ever since the news about the new high lord had circled. “You’re in a mood to kill the new high lord of autumn already?", you mussed, making Cassian let out a snort. You had lost the number of meetings that had been held in the past week alone. And while you didn’t like Eris, a small part of you couldn’t help but feel sympathy for him. On one hand, this, no doubt, had to be a relief. To know that the world was no longer tarnished by Beron. But the responsibility was still hard to carry all alone.

“A diplomatic meeting," Rhys clarified, making you roll your eyes, “That can be changed real quick with a dagger." But you could see the plea in his eyes. And something else. An emotion you couldn’t quite grasp. It had been there for a couple of days now. It was hazy at first, while Rhys was still contemplating it all in his head. Now, however, it was set and done, leaving a trail of unease in your gut when you caught a glimpse of it.

“I need you." You were not sure what exactly those words implied. Knowing how fond you and Eris were of one another, it was as if Rhys had planned a civil war to break out in the autumn. Unless he needed Eris to decline whatever offer Rhys was going to propose, and you were just the thing for that, “Fine, I’ll be there," you huffed, bringing the glass to your lips. Even if you knew that not even booze could make a meeting like that bearable, "I can't wait to see Eris’s face when you walk in." Azriel’s low voice filled the room, followed by Cassian’s chuckle. “You enjoy his misery way too much, Az," you said, shaking your head with a smile. “What can I say? I’m a simple man," the spymaster smiled before downing his drink.

Eris had been dreaming of this day since the moment he realized that this brutality would only end when Beron was six feet, make it ten so the bastard wouldn’t have a chance of crowning out, below. One thing he didn’t take into consideration was that the new power would rip at him from within. Leaving him quite shaky and restless. Not to mention that he didn’t have anyone to guard his back. His younger brothers were all corrupted by his father to be of any help at all.

“Apologies for your loss once again," Beron’s right-hand man clapped Eris’s shoulder. "The council will miss Beron’s presence," the other added sympathetically. No doubt, Eris thought. All the males in this room had been fed like pigs out of the same hod for decades. And Beron fed them well with promises that were never truly delivered. “But we do not doubt you, Eris," and here was the silent warning that they expected the same treatment from the oldest Vanserra. No doubt already able to sniff out Eris’s plans on wiping the council out. “Yet we are here to guide you if..." “If that’s all, I would like to end the meeting," Eris said, raising his hand. The yapping of these old men had drilled the last bit of sanity out of him today. With a flow of “Of course, of course," and “our apologies for holding you up," Eris watched them pick up their scrolls as they hurried out of the room.

The moment the door closed, Eris let out a deep sigh, rubbing a hand over his face. Exhausted. He was just so exhausted. If only he could sleep at night. To just… “You looked like a fox kicked by a hunter," Eris opened his eyes to the sound of a familiar voice. "Lucien, my patience is running low tonight." It came out harsher than Eris intended. He was glad that Lucien had agreed to listen in on the meetings in general. He didn’t have to. But Eris had no one to turn to. “This wasn’t that bad of a meeting," the youngest Vanserra said, pulling out a chair for himself. The meeting had barely touched on serious topics. Council had tried to swing the chatter to that, but Eris had fully focused on the food supplies and growing stock.

"Would be better if you came back to stand by my side fully," Eris pressed once more. While a part of him understood Lucien's choice, another was bitter that every offer had been declined. “You know I have duties elsewhere," Lucien replied like he had ever since Beron died. “This is home," Eris pointed out, fingers drumming against the table. Their eyes met, and Eris knew Lucien’s next words before they had even touched his lips. “This was never my home," he stated with a shake of his head.

Eris knew that, it clawed at him that Lucien had been out there, going from court to court. At the time, it felt like the best choice. To take him away from all of this. To make sure that no hits, whether physical or emotional, were ever directed at him.

“How’s mother?", Lucien cut the silence upon the two brothers. "She would have happily danced on his grave if she had a chance," Eris mussed. Both brothers couldn’t help but smile. It was crazy to think that she was finally free. No more playing pretend. Their mother was finally a free woman who could do anything she wanted. And even if it hurt to admit it, Eris knew that she too wouldn’t stay back home with him. Her heart had been elsewhere for decades already.

“Why are you still here, Lucien?" Even if Eris loved having Lucien back, he knew too well that he didn’t just linger to be there. There had to be a reason. “Can’t I come over to spend quality time?" Lucien smirked right as Eris cut him off mid-sentence, “Cut the bullshit." And here they were, back at square one. With all the real emotion swept beneath the masks they have been wearing, “Rhys wants to meet with you tonight." Eris let out a deep sigh at Lucien's words. He just didn’t have it in him to go through one more toying session today. “He has valid suggestions," Lucien reassured his older brother. “He can shove them right up his ass," Eris pushed back his chair, turning to pour himself another drink. “Eris, hear him out. You need allies now; you need recognition," there was truth in Lucien’s words. Even if the times were changing, some old rules still applied, even if Eris didn’t plan to rule by the textbook his father had created. But there were still things he couldn’t escape. “I’ve already made a name for myself, Lucien; they know what to expect," Eris stated bitterly. Not daring to look back. Not daring to meet his brother’s eyes.

Swallowed by the never-ending piles of work, Eris had lost track of time. Only the footsteps that sounded down the hall made him halt as he lifted his head. Listening. “Of fucking hell," Eris muttered. All the fibers in his body twisted. Because he knew. Knew without seeing. Knew it deep within his gut. "Joy and cheer!", your voice echoed as you opened the door to Eris’s study. The devilish grin shone across your face. "Hello, kitten," you mussed up at him. Cassian was grinning, barely holding back a laugh. Even Azriel ran a hand over his mouth to hide his smile. Eris slowly gazed up at Rhys, “I would have offered you to sit, but since you brought that malice with you..." his eyes darted back at you. Looking you up and down in that profound, unimpressed expression of his. Even if deep blue had always been your color. No one wore it better than you did in Eris’s eyes.

“Oh, because you’re such a cuddly bun," you purred, crossing your arms over your chest. "Y/n," Rhys stated firmly, glaring your way. You let out a huff, “Not my problem; he has his nickers in a twist." You pointed at Eris, who pinched the bridge of his nose, “Lord forbid... I have no time for this. You know where to find the exit." Motioning with his hand, the oldest Vanserra gestured to the door. Already turning away to leave.

"Eris, at least let me make a proposition," Rhys insisted, stepping forward before glancing back at you, “And you sit." The order was degrading, at least. Like a youngster being scolded. "I'm not your lap dog," you grumbled, eyebrows knitted. “You sure look like one," Eris muttered under his breath, making you gasp.

You were about to give him a piece of your mind when Rhys cut in, “There’s unease among the high lords." Eris blinked a couple of times. The low lights were doing no favors for his already paler skin. "Rhys, you either tell me something I don’t know or you leave," the high lord sighed with tiredness. He had heard it all before. And one more conversation about this might end up being the reason why Eris was going to drop dead himself. Rhys stood silent for a moment before uttering, “They want to make a vote; they deem you not fit to rule until they know how Beron died."

And for the first time that night, Eris’s eyes were truly forced on Rhys. A new layer of tension lined his shoulders. “What?" he muttered beneath his breath. “They are planning to hold a meeting without you." Now those words cut Eris deep. That same wound Beron cut open over and over again. You’ll never be good enough. Do you think you could ever sit among them? With me gone, you will be nothing in their eyes. “That’s nonsense; I have a right to be informed about this." Eris gripped the edge of the table. A flame of anger rekindled deep within.

“You need alliances and show them that you have it under control," Rhys pointed out, no doubt having gone through all of that himself. In some ways, “I do have it under control," Eris snarled bitterly. “Well, reports say otherwise," Rhys noted, pointing at the reports in his hand. Eris’s eyes skim over the text with urgency. “Look… I’m offering you help”. Rhys's voice died down.

That same sense of chill ran down your back. It was as if something from deep within was warning you that this was way more serious than you had thought. Eris shook his head as he read. Almost all of the high lords were in on it. There were no direct threats there, but the implications were obvious.

“Marry Y/N," and the room died down for a moment. The silence was so intense that the ringing in your ears nearly made you hold onto your head. “What?”, You both breathed in unison before your eyes fell upon one another. One heartbeat. Two. “Hell no", “Over my dead body," both of your declines fell one after the other.

"Eris, you know how the council runs and how they are about the business. You need to make public appearances. You need someone by your side," and Rhys had a point. If most courts had moved on from council power, Beron had held onto them for dear life. They fed his power. Stopped the fires of rebellion for him. And now their way was Eris’s people's way. “I sure as hell don’t need that leech," Eris said in frustration. “Hey, word choice," Azriel pointed a finger his way, making the frown on Eris’s face even deeper. “I’m not marrying that monster," you hissed.

“I would once again suggest you look at yourself," Eris grumbled back, running his hand over his face. But you were done with him. He could go to hell the way he was standing now. It’s your brother who met your angered face. “Why was I not informed about this? What right do you have to even suggest this?" You stepped closer to him, your hands reaching for his shirt. “It’s a marriage of convenience," Rhys said again, trying to kill the frustration his suggestion had caused, “You play by the rules; secure the spot for Eris among that table, and then we’ll find a way to split you apart. My word will be worth more if you’re courting my sister."

No, this couldn’t be happening. Gone were the times when women were traded like pigs. This was a joke. A nightmare. You pinched your hand once, twice. Nothing. It didn’t all fade away. “No, absolutely, no," you breathed, your hand falling on your chest. This was not the life you had dreamed of. Not how it was supposed to go.

“What’s the catch here, Rhys?" Eris breathed. Was he even considering this? Surely he wasn’t. “He left Mor by the fucking border! Do you want me in ribbons by your door?", you pulled at Rhys’s black shirt, practically hissing through your clenched teeth. “I wouldn’t dirty my hands with you that much," Eris’s voice killed your huffs as you turned back at him.

"Asshole," you spat his way. “Whiny little girl," Eris huffed back, crossing his arms over his chest. “I fucking hate you," you shrieked in frustration, pulling at the roots of your hair as the situation slowly sank in. “Oh, you hate me? Do you want to know how I feel?" Eris laughed bitterly, his eyes not leaving you, “If you were my wife, I would put poison in your morning tea." His cold words sliced through you. You let out a bitter chuckle. Taking a breath to compose yourself. A shaky hand running down the skirt of your dress to smooth the material. “Ah, well, if you were my husband, I would happily drink it." Your words lingered in the air,and you could see it even if it was just a flash. A blink. That second of shock that flashed through Eris’s eyes.

With a quick step forward, you pushed at his chest, "Never do you hear me?" You hissed one more time, “Will never happen." His hand caught your wrist with a swift motion as he pulled you closer to him. Your chest firmly pressed against his as he muttered right against your face. “You’re screaming at me as if it’s my idea," Eris huffed, dropping your hand.

You blinked, turning back to your older brother. Who swore to protect you. To always look out for you. “You’re a shit brother, Rhys," you stated. Finding it so utterly hard to even look at him now. All this time. He could have warned you. Said something. Asked. But no. “I’m trying to stop another war from happening," he stated as if this were a simple transaction, not a life-altering decision. “By sacrificing me?" You hit your chest in frustration. Your youthful years would spent slaving in another country, and for what?

“Don’t be so dramatic," Eris huffed, making you let out a frustrated whimper, "Oh, my apologies for not seeing any gain in this for me." Rhys took a deep breath. “The court wants a married man with a powerful woman by his side." Here it was his lord's voice. Not your brother. He stepped closer to you, trying to reach for your hands, but you backed away instantly. “This is more about you than anyone else," he tried to reason. So you were to be a play toy. A figurine in someone else’s game. “Just unbelievable," you said, shaking your head and stepping back. Your leg hit the cabinet, sending a couple of bottles tumbling down. Rhys called your name once more, but you didn’t. Couldn't be here any longer as you bolted towards the door.

"Y/n," Rhys called out in warning, moving towards the exit as well. “Don’t you dare follow her; you’ve done enough damage for the night," Eris’s cold voice made the Lord of the Night halt. And for the first time that night, the uncaring mask on Rhys’s face slipped: “Don’t lecture me when I’m trying to help," venomous frustration seeping through, “I’m landing you my biggest asset. She’s my only blood family." Eris couldn’t help the smile that crept over his face, “If you loved her so much, you wouldn’t toy with her like that”. Rhys’s jaw twitched.

"Careful," Azriel reasoned for the second time that night. Eris had forgotten that the two of them were even there. “Stop barking from the back rows," he hissed at the two batboys. Cassian quickly placed his hand on Azriel’s chest, stopping him in his tracks. Eris shook his head, “You miscalculated, Rhys; admit it." Turning back to reach for the bottle of brandy, Eris took a swig straight out of the bottle. “You’d gain power out of this. But your precious demon of a sister will never forgive you for this." That struck a nerve deep within Rhys. And suddenly, the suggestion itself felt ingenious. So there was a catch after all, huh? “A day," Rhys said firmly, “I’m giving you a day to think this through; then my offer is off the table." Like that. He was dismissed as if he too wasn’t a high lord now. As if Eris wasn’t in an equal position to demand. Eris leaned forward,“You were never the one offering, Rhys; it was never your call to make."

[mylittleredgirl]

unpopular opinion but i really enjoy "field of fire," the ezri dax "to catch a serial killer" episode. for all the scenery chewing and deep space nine's continued vulcan smear campaign, i'm not going to pretend it's objectively the best of the ezri a-plot episodes, but it's my favorite for what it reveals about her.

jadzia was emotional, headstrong, and sometimes impulsive (as was curzon), but ezri is reckless.

of course she is! she's young! she's unqualified for everything that has happened to her, and honestly, so are all her peers. she ran away from a fucked-up home to starfleet at a time when, as we saw with nog, they're field-promoting cadets at top speed to fill the ranks as starfleet suffers massive war casualties. she's more or less the same generation as the red squad cadets on the valiant who decided to fight the dominion war by themselves behind enemy lines.

and she wouldn't be ezri dax otherwise. the reveal in "equilibrium" is a secret known only the symbiosis commission and the starfleet offiers who were physically in the room. to the medical staff on the destiny and ezri tigan herself, the odds of rejection from an improper trill joining are overwhelmingly likely and fatal. but ezri still volunteers to join with dax! she's probably going to die in this uniform anyway, right?

jadzia was a focused, rule-following, straight-a student before she met the party worm, and it took dax a season or two to loosen her up, but ezri was probably already unhinged.

so of course she's the one who decides to take her inner murderer off the leash at the slightest provocation. sisko asks her to help odo out, and ezri somehow interprets this as feeling like she's solely responsible for finding the killer when she only took one class at the academy in forensic psychology and didn't even like it. odo and o'brien are continuing their own investigation off-screen the whole time! meanwhile, she probably had to look up the trill emergence ritual in a book. she has not read the fine print on ANY of this.

and she sticks with this crazy plan, even when it becomes clear that she's right on the edge of becoming a danger to society. but ezri's whole starfleet career, maybe her whole young life of ignoring and plotting her escape from her emotionally abusive family, certainly her whole joined experience, has been lived right on the edge.

all the scenes she has with joran in and around quark's bar to me are her technique for staying grounded in reality. they often happen after joran pushes her too far, so she uses being public as a distraction from that one-on-one intensity—even though it means she looks insane and everyone's staring at her. even joran is like ".... shouldn't you have told sisko about me?" she is full in dax stubbornness on this deeply dubious plan.

and it works!! and in the final account, i think she liked it a little: the power of playing a killer, the power of being stronger than joran, and the soft ending she has with him during reintegration.

her symbiont, her whole life on the station, her friends, her romantic interests, they were all jadzia's first, but jadzia was afraid of joran and would never have played this game. in this one way, ezri has a closer relationship to her unearned symbiont than jadzia did.

ezri's beta canon trajectory of switching to a command track is okay, but it makes me sad to think she'd ditch her chosen career entirely. i could see her getting into criminal psychology. her brother's a murderer (she hasn't unpacked that AT ALL), one of her past hosts was a murderer... with that backstory, she'd do numbers in a federation law & order procedural series. i'd watch it.

but honestly, in the federation spirit of rehabilitation, she might be uniquely qualified to treat violent criminals as well, rather than hunting them down. she could reach in and heal that part of herself and then use that experience to reach others.

[illyrianbrat]

Prisoner (Part 3; FINALE)

Set: Middle of season 1 to beginning of season 2

Pairing: (kind of) Aemond Targaryen x Velaryon female!reader, (platonic) overprotective!Jacaerys Velaryon x Velaryon female!reader

Warnings: typical westori violence, curse words/spoilers for both seasons but especially season 2, everyone being absolutely stupid, conversations about characters that were offed, major character death, talks of forced marriage, being made prisoner, bruises, scrapes, minor talk about weight and not eating

Plot: One of Viserys Targaryen’s final wishes was to see them married. To please him, Rhaenyra allowed her daughter to stay in the Red Keep alone, not knowing it would be a terrible mistake.

Part 1 | Part 2

“Get up!”

A rough voice boomed through the quiet chamber. You jolted awake, disoriented. As you tried to rub your eyes, you saw multiple Kingsguards entering in haste. “What’s happening?” Instead of answering, the knight grabbed your arm and dragged you out of bed. “What is the meaning of this? You’re hurting me!”

They rushed you to the Throne Room, and without a second thought, the knight pushed you, prompting you to fall to your knees, grimacing at the sting of the cold floor.

“You!” You lifted your head and saw Aegon. “This was your doing!”

You furrowed your brows in confusion, looking at Alicent and Otto, who stood next to Aegon. “I-I have no-”

“You killed my son,” Aegon growled, unsheathing his sword and pointing it at you. “You had him murdered in cold blood. Now I will do the same to you.”

“I would never hurt Jaehaerys,” You managed to say before Aegon took a step toward you.

“Son…” Alicent warned, noticing your appearance. Your skin was gray and lifeless, cheeks sunken, and eyes red.

“Perhaps we should let her speak,” Otto suggested, motioning for you to continue.

“I do not know what you’re talking about. I have been in my chambers all day, the one I have been locked in,” you reminded him.

“Liar. You did this as revenge because we are keeping you here.”

“Your Grace,” Lord Jasper interrupted, “the princess has not been seen leaving her chambers. There are guards in front of the door at all times.”

Deep down, Alicent knew you were innocent. You could not have done something like this.

“Take her away,” Aegon ordered the Kingsguard, annoyed. The knight grabbed your arm and pulled you up, dragging you from the room. Your whines of pain echoed through the hall.

---

“My daughter sits captive in the Red Keep. Did you consider her while you schemed for revenge?” Rhaenyra interrogated Daemon.

He sat there, rather annoyed. “Yes. Unfortunately, I could not get her myself.”

“Did you think it would be easier to rescue her while they dealt with a dead child?”

“At least I did something,” Daemon argued back. “What have you done? You left for days, searching for Luke, while she remained a prisoner in King’s Landing after you decided to leave her there, unprotected and surrounded by our enemies. Why not ask Rhaenys or Ser Erryk why they left her behind?”

Rhaenyra scoffed, “How dare you.”

“She is also my daughter,” Daemon reminded her, “and I will stop at nothing to bring her back to Dragonstone.”

Jacaerys stood outside the chambers, listening to their argument. The guilt felt asphyxiating. His brother was gone because he volunteered them as envoys. His sister was a prisoner because he did not fight hard enough to make her leave with them after dinner.

“I cannot trust you, Daemon,” he heard Rhaenyra say. “You sent two assassins to slay a child. How can I trust you with her safety?”

At that moment, Jace made a decision. He would go to King’s Landing to bring her back.

He sped through the castle, gripping the hilt of his sword. Vermax would have to stay behind if Vhagar was guarding the city; he could not risk losing his dragon. If he did, his mother’s side would lose a valuable asset, and his sister would also suffer.

Jacaerys ran down the stairs, seeing a Velaryon ship in the harbor. Surely, someone on it would help him reach King’s Landing by nightfall. He saw many knights and servants walking up the path. More allies, he thought.

A weak grip on his arm stopped him.

His heart beat erratically as he recognized the person in front of him.

“Sister,” Jace gasped, his eyes darkening at your state. “What did they do to you?” He softly caressed your cheek.

Jacaerys hastily lifted you, not entirely convinced you could walk up to the castle on your own. You laid your head on his chest, tears of relief flowing down your cheeks. You were finally home.

“Your Grace!” Elinda, Rhaenyra’s loyal handmaiden, called out. “The princess has returned.”

Rhaenyra stumbled into your chambers, seeing Maester Gerardys tending to you. “My sweet girl.”

“Mother,” you whined.

“How is she?” Daemon asked.

“There are no notable injuries, apart from a bruised arm and scraped knees. She has noticeable weight loss. I will prepare a remedy for the princess myself,” Gerardys bowed and exited in haste.

Rhaenyra made her way to the bed, sitting next to you and cradling your face. “I am so sorry.”

You closed her eyes, happy to feel your mother’s warm and soft hands. “There’s nothing to forgive.”

“I wanted to return to King’s Landing,” Rhaenyra assured you. “But some things happened here, forcing me to stay.”

Jace stood at the foot of the bed, while Daemon stood next to Rhaenyra. “How did you get out of the Keep?”

“A man helped me,” you informed them, furrowing your brows.

After being forcefully taken to and from the throne room, you sat at the edge of your bed, wondering what had happened to Prince Jaehaerys.

The door burst open, startling you. “Come on, Princess. We need to hurry.”

It was a strange man, someone you hadn’t met before. “Who ar—”

“We do not have much time,” he urged. “Prince Daemon sent me. Put on this cloak.”

You perked up at the mention of your stepfather. Ignoring the ache in your bones and stomach, you got off the bed and put on the cloak.

You ran out of the living quarters, moving through hidden passages. Before you realized it, you were outside the Keep. The man stopped, not too far from the castle, to meet with someone else. “Are you sure this is her?”

“Yes. Go on, get out of the city.”

“Come, princess.”

As you reached a small boat away from the harbor, you noticed the man was carrying a sack... a leaking sack. “What is that?, you questioned him, but he did not provide an answer. “What. Is. That?”

“Nothing,” the man hissed, holding the sack tighter.

“It’s leaking,” you informed him.

“Be quiet.”

You sat on the boat next to a sailor. As the man was about to get on, Gold Cloaks stopped him. They ripped the sack from his hand and opened it. Screams echoed through the night, and swords were pointed at him.

The sailor began rowing, wanting to get some distance before they noticed who you were. The knights grabbed the man, paying no attention to the boat. Your heart sank as you realized what was in the sack.

“Was it your doing?” You asked Rhaenyra.

“It was an accident,” Daemon replied instead. “I instructed them to find Aemond, not Jaehaerys.”

“Did they hurt you?” Jace murmured, and you shook her head.

“A Kingsguard held my arm tightly when Aegon demanded to see me, that’s the reason for my bruises,” you admitted. “I was locked in my quarters. I only saw a maid and Alicent. She… she told me about Luke.”

At the Red Keep, Aemond had decided it was time to finally face his future wife. But his plan was spoiled.

You were gone.

“How did that bitch princess leave? Where was the knight in charge of her?” Aegon fumed at the continued lack of security.

Aemond, however, was furious. In a fit of rage, he destroyed everything in his path.

You were supposed to stay there, forever, with him. He regretted not having you confined in Maegor’s Holdfast.

All he wished to do was fly to Dragonstone and have Vhagar burn it to the ground. But now, he’d have to be strategic about how to get you back to his side.

[softsan]

˚ 🥀⊹ 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐄𝐕𝐈𝐋, 𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐇𝐈𝐌 𝐒𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐄. (𝐩𝐭.𝟏)

✉️ ・ 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭.

✉️ ・ ── 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬: | 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 |

✉️ ・ ── 𝐦𝐚𝐟𝐢𝐚 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐬 | 𝐲/𝐧'𝐬 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬

✉️ ・ ── 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: Mafia AU, Angst, Kingpin!Taeyong, Queenpin!Y/N, Fem!Reader, Childhood friends, Betrayal, Enemies to lovers, Eventual Smut. ✉️ ・ ── 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧:  You were the only surviving heir of the old-time Mafia kingpin that had ruled the four territories. You were long thought to be dead, living the normal life you had always wanted...Until you run into a Taeyong, a formidable ghost from your past. You are then thrown back into the Mafia underbelly, reuniting with enemies you had hoped had forgotten you. Will you run away? Will you stand beside Taeyong, kingpin of the North, and be his queen? Or will you take your rightful revenge.

✉️ ・ ── 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Possessive Themes, Future Explicit Sexual Content, Murder, Kidnapping, Strangulation, Torture, Weapons, Graphic Violence, Heavy Angst, Explicit Language, Alcohol Consumption, Mentions of Drugs, Betrayal, Morally Grey Characters.

✉️ ・ ── 𝐨𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭.

Past. 

You felt all the air leave your lungs, your chest constricting as you tried to gasp for just one more breath. You heard the patter of your blood as it hit the hardwood floors.

“Y/N,” His desperate eyes plead. 

“What did you do to her?!” Your brother demanded, yanking against the chains that were secured around his wrists. 

“Good catch Taeyong!” One of your captors clapped his hand on Taeyong’s back.

You tried to lift your shoulders, but they refused to support the weight of your head. You were but a lifeless heap, carelessly discarded and left to slowly bleed out on the ground. The man’s sickening laughter echoed throughout the room, filling what was left of your heart with dread.  

“Do it,” His voice urged, “Kill her now.”

Present.

“Today will be different,” You stared at yourself in the mirror, “Today I will smile, and I’ll mean it.” Your eyes circled down to your neck, your confidence waning. 

“Come on!” Your roommate urged, “You can say it better than that.” 

Your shoulders slumped in defeat, “You make me say the same thing at the start of every semester.”

Your roommate clicked her tongue, looking up from her phone. “And I believe this semester is going to be fucking fantastic.” She pointed at your white dress that cut just above the knees. “Look, we’re both looking cuter than ever. We have a new apartment,” She pointed to the living room’s ceiling to exaggerate her point. “This is our second year at college, and you, my friend, are going to put yourself out there.”

You shook your head in dread. “I thought we agreed that in this household, you can be the party fiend, and I’ll be the one that spends her nights binging TV shows on Netflix.”

Your roommate Jen threw you a dirty look.

“Hey! Who else is going to keep the universe in balance.”

Your roommate rolled her eyes. “The world is not going to stop spinning on its axis if you go out once in a while.”

“I highly doubt that.” You mutter to yourself, earning a playful hit from your dear roommate.

You and your roommate Jennifer had been cohabitating with one another since you were both seventeen. Back then, it had been a struggle to find someone willing to share a space with a teenager. That coupled with the awful reputation your foster father and sister had garner for themselves, you weren’t exactly considered an ideal house mate. However, to your pleasant surprise Jen was equally in need of someone to cover half of her rent. 

You had somewhat known about Jen prior to living with her. She had been quite popular at your school, the social butterfly. Admittedly, you were a little suprised to hear she like you, had moved out on her own, yet you never pried. 

Despite, her cheerful demeanor, you sensed a sadness akin to your own. You were both content pretending the other didn’t have secrets they’d buried deep inside their pasts. 

The day had been too long, and the sight of a setting sun was a welcome one. A picturesque scene of pink and oranges painted the skies which backdropped Taeyong’s beloved city. 

“Let’s get a drink to cool down,” Johnny piped, securing his gun back in his trousers.

Mark looked over disapprovingly, “You know you should really invest in a holster.”

“Not a chance!” Johnny grinned, “Taeil will flip if I make another extravagant purchase this month.” 

Taeyong slightly shook his head, half-heartedly smiling. Taeil, his consigliere had only gotten on Johnny’s case after he bought two restaurants and three record stores on a whim. Johnny simply was dead set on never purchasing himself a holster.  

Mark discerning Johnny’s lame excuse, decided to play along, “If you’re tight on money, why don’t we drink at the crappy-looking place.” He pointed to a shabby, bar with rusted molding at the end of the street. 

Taeyong grimaced, he didn’t like spending too much time in disputed territory. The street they were standing on fell in a grey area, both claimed by him, the King of the North, and the terrible Black Crow of the West. 

“We should head back closer to base,” Renjun cut in, noticing Taeyong’s hesitancy.  

Taeyong had his own bars and hotels where he could drink and dine with complete ease. He saw no need to do so here. 

“Let’s do it,” Johnny exclaimed, pulling a protesting Renjun into a friendly headlock.

“It’ll be fine,” Mark reassured, nudging Taeyong’s shoulder. “Nobody’s that stupid to take on all four of us.”

“I’m here! I’m here!” You breathlessly apologized to your manager, reaching for a bar apron.

“It’s fine,” He assured, handing you a docket, “First day back?” 

You nodded, trying to catch your breath “It’s the first day, and I feel like I’m already behind on all of my classes.” 

“Well, tonight should be pretty standard for a weekday.” He commented, his eyes scanning the empty tables, “I’ll be up upstairs talking to a supplier but, give me a wave if you need me.” 

“Will do.” It wasn’t uncommon for you to be working the bar alone.

The 'Old Sand Bucket' where you worked was certainly past its prime. Its interior was outdated, half of the bar stools wobbled, and even the bar counter was unleveled. It just wasn’t a place that attracted a surplus of people. 

You pulled your first load of wine glasses from the dishwasher, lifting them into the bar to be polished.

The door to the bar chimed, “Welcome to the Old Sand Bucket.” You said, without looking upward. “What can I get you?”

Taeyong gave the bar a lengthy overview. It didn’t appear to be suspicious, just the opposite. The dated bar was completely unoccupied beside the humming bartender who was mindlessly polishing wine glasses.

He examined you like the rest, evaluating the level of threat you were. Your head stayed down, occupied with your task. You barely spared a glance at his boys, who began ordering drinks.

You wore a simple black shirt underneath a bar apron with the ‘Old Sand Bucket’ labeled on its front. Your hair was tied in a low ponytail, revealing the curvature of your neck. At its base was a silky black ribbon knotted in a neat bow. Other than being pretty, you didn’t appear to stand out. 

Taeyong hummed, satisfied the bar his boys wanted to drink at was nothing more than a dinky, uninspired establishment.

You heard another person pull out a wonky barstool, which made four people in your bar. Not bad, as you usually didn’t have customers come in until half past nine. 

You placed down a bourbon and coke to your left—a man’s voice offering you a quick thanks.

“What can I get you?” You asked, finally looking up at the last man.

“Whatever’s good.”

Your eyes widened, blinking repeatedly, willing the ghost of your past to disappear back to your nightmares.

This can’t be real. This can’t be him. Please. No.

But he didn’t. He sat in front of you. His bored expression faded as he caught you staring. You immediately dropped your face, your face burning.

Taeyong furrowed his brows, confused. The way you looked at him just then… It was as if you knew him. He wasn’t mistaken. He couldn’t be. The way you were mumbling your answers, your arms shaking as you reached to pour a shot of vodka.

You did the best you could to keep a low profile, keeping your face down, and distracting yourself with work around the bar. You wanted nothing more than to abandon your shift— your heart furiously pounding every time you heard one of their four voices address you. However, at around eleven there was an unusual influx of people (what you believed to be a bachelor’s night out), therefore you needed to power through your discomfort. 

You wavered for your manager to join you downstairs, while you stepped out of the bar and started clearing tables. 

Taeyong kept you in the corner of his eye, unable to shake the curiosity that brewed in his stomach.

“Give us a smile, love,” Slurred one of the drunken bachelors, who had stripped off his shoes and was now wearing one on his head. 

You complied, in order not to make a scene. You reached over his table to pick up one of the empty pints. You felt the irksome feeling of fingers brushing against your neck. You jumped back, dropping your tray. Your hands immediately shot to your neck, clasping where your black ribbon ought to be. 

The shattering of glass made Taeyong stand, interrupting Renjun mid-sentence. Your eyes were aflame with anger, your mouth parting in horror. You were trying desperately to conceal the base of your neck.

Without a second thought, Taeyong approached, pulling the drunken patron up by his wrinkled collar. The man began sloppily flailing, trying to make his pathetic getaway. 

Taeyong snatched the black ribbon out of his hand, before not so gently throwing him to the ground.

“I believe this belongs to you.” Taeyong stepped forward, extending his arm in your direction. 

You instinctively stepped back, your eyes narrowing on the black ribbon between his fingers. There was no way for you to reach for your ribbon without exposing your neck.

“You keep it.” You said as firmly as you could, turning your back to him.

He watched as you retreated to one of the back rooms, his interest in you only spiking.

You hid yourself in one of the alcohol storerooms, searching for something to cover up your neck. You resorted to some paper towels stained with raspberry syrup. It wasn’t one of your greatest ideas, but it seemed to work when your manager came bursting in.

“Where’d you go?” Your manager pressed, “You left broken glass for me to clean up by table fourteen.” 

"It accidently lock myself in the storage rooms again.” You lied.

Your manager sighed, ushering you out.

You did a quick scan of the bar, noticing the four men had since left. 

“What happened to you?” Your manager pointed to the paper towels and raspberry syrup. 

“Ah,” You pressed the wet paper harder against your neck, “A customer spilled a drink all over me.” 

Your manager shook his head, “Go home and clean up,” He signaled you to grab your things, “I’ll close up,”

Scattered, you thanked him and reached for your rucksack.

“Wait,” Your manager handed you an envelope, “Some guy left you a tip.” 

Who gives a tip in an envelope? You eyed it cautiously. 

You waited until you had turned a corner before you used your fingernail to pry apart the sealed envelope.

Inside was a one-hundred-dollar bill, your black ribbon, and a napkin that read 'Thanks for your service’. 

Taeyong kept his distance, hiding in the shadows. He watched you leave the bar, with your hand holding some paper towels to your neck. You use the other hand to tear open the envelope he’d left for you.

To his surprise, you barely acknowledged the bill—you were more interested in the black ribbon and the napkin. You stared at the napkin for a couple of minutes, your teeth grinding. You then scrunched it into a ball, throwing it onto the sidewalk with the envelope containing the hundred. You, however, kept the black ribbon.

Taeyong observed you as you slowly pulled the paper towels away, revealing a dark scar that wrapped around your neck... It was as if someone had strangled you with barbed wire. 

A flood of emotions went through him, sympathy, guilt, and finally, coldness. He couldn’t help but remember a young girl who had experienced a similar fate.

You had died many years ago. Or at least he thought so…

NETWORKS: -​

MONI’S NOTE: Woah! I cannot express how excited I am to dive back into this world. For those who don't know, this is an old fic of mine that I wrote like 5 years?! ago. I've decided to rework it and improve the story (also finally give it an ending). I would much appreciate your thoughts, comments, reblogs and likes are extremely valued.

TAGLIST: Let me know if you'd like to be added to this taglist!

© softsan - all rights reserved. please do not repost on any social media sites, translate, or modify any of my works.

[streamafterlaughter]

Soundtrack to Disaster

Chapter II: A Place Uncharted and Overgrown

playlist | masterlist | pinboard | prev

song(s) for this chapter: Careful by Paramore, 365 by Charli XCX, Hardline by Julien Baker (for half a second)

chapter tags: cocky!kinda mean!fboy!eddie, swearing, drinking, drug (weed) use, implied sexual content | fic tags: Angst, hurt/(eventual) comfort, (eventual) smut, slow burn, enemies to friends to lovers, Eddie Munson x Fem!OC!Reader, Modern AU | This fic is rated 18+ MDNI

taglist @children-of-the-grave @five-bi-five @kellsck @faggotinie @xplrnowornever @taccobelle send a message/comment to be added!

a/n: whatever is happening right now, don’t worry. it will get worse!

DISCLAIMER: I do not consent to having my work fed to AI engines, or reposted in any way, shape, or form on other websites. Unless otherwise stated, this is the only account that features and contains this work, and any replication was done without my consent. Please let me know if you see my work elsewhere. Reblog to support the author!

—

Your voice is hoarse by the time you pull into your driveway, surely waking the neighbors as your music leaks through your cracked windows, an angry repetition of YOU CAN’T BE TOO CAREFUL ANYMORE… You do, however, remember to crank it down before leaving your car, something future you will be thankful for.

You flick the light of your bare bones apartment on, glaring at the half your things still sitting in boxes. You keep telling yourself you’ll get to those.

Much to your discouragement, you’ve mostly accepted that Hawkins has swallowed you back into its cold and unforgiving bosom, at least for a while.

You’d left for college, obviously. Escaped to New York with a dream of becoming a published poet, a voice of the new generation. And though school was insightful, challenging, and everything you wanted; it was lonely. Art students are pretentious and judgmental, especially if you come from somewhere like Indiana. So you’d kept your head down and finished school alone, only to move back home with a useless degree, in thousands of dollars of debt, and with a brother in prison.

At least now my brother’s home, you think, trying to assuage the shame spiral. Home and as oblivious as ever, inviting Eddie to the bar.

-

You rise late, sunshine leaking into your second floor bedroom, provoking a groan from deep within your tired gut. Eddie’s here, in Hawkins. It’s been years since you’ve seen him, even longer since you’ve spoken. It leaves you with a lot of nagging questions you’re not sure you want the answers to.

You roll over, wrestling with your sheets tangled around your bare legs. You barely remember coming home, having blacked out the night with a red, angry rage that seems to have subsided with the night. You’re calmer now, almost zen.

Almost, until you remember what you’ve promised tonight. Parties aren’t usually of any concern; a few old friends and maybe a couple college kids with nothing better to do, but you dread it all the same. Eddie used to frequent Steve’s house parties to deal, even after you’d stopped speaking to him. Something about being “easy money,” he’d drunkenly explained to you once. You hope it doesn’t mean he’ll pick up the habit again, but you know deep down how naive that is.

-

“What’s the party even for?” You lean over the kitchen island to steal a chip from the bag, and Steve smacks your hand out of the way.

“Who says there has to be a reason for a party?”

“Anyone who wants to keep their house clean, for one.” Robin sneaks in from behind, snatching a handful of potato chips before Steve can catch her. “And I, for one, never agreed to hosting this party.”

“Co-hosting,” Steve reminds her, “and if you must know, it’s a party for Chris.”

“Didn’t we just have one of those?” You groan, and Robin hands you a chip, as if to apologize.

“Yeah, but that was nothin’. No offense, obviously I love your mom and the bar, but, cmon, you know he wants a rager.”

You really can’t argue with that, so you divert. “And you feel responsible to throw him?”

Steve presses his lips together, unable to combat the question. “We’re friends. Plus, it gives Robin an excuse to see Nance.” The last part is barely audible, but both you and Robin catch it, locking eyes, and she blushes. Nancy Wheeler, the Hawkins Girl Next door. Robin’s been pining over her since senior year of high school, with nothing to show for it.

Robin is harder to say no to than Steve. “Ugh, fine. I have one condition if you want me at this party.

Steve crosses his arms. “Bee, I can’t just not invite him.”

You shrug. “Okay, fine. Have a good time, let me know how it goes.” You grab your coat from the rack for emphasis.

“You’re bluffing.”

“You willing to bet on that?”

“What is your thing with him anyway?” Robin asks between munching on her chips, searching your face for a giveaway. “Like, I know he was there when Chris got cuffed, but is it really his fault your brother got caught?”

You’d never told your friends that Eddie had confessed, testified against your brother. Truthfully, you’d figured they’d find out on their own. You didn’t want to sway their opinions, you’d all been in the same friend group. Even now, you can’t bring yourself to explain the whole thing. “It’s a really, really long story that will kill the mood to tell.”

Steve huffs, hands on his hips. “You know I can’t use that to justify not inviting him.”

“Ugh, fine. But I’m gonna be pissy all night.”

He cracks a smile. “Whatever keeps you entertained, dork.”

-

Steve leaves you in charge of the music, giggling to yourself as you scroll through his playlist titles: Sad Boy Autumn, Night of Clubbin’, Hot Steve Summer. You land on his Party Rock Anthems, and scroll through what Steve believes to be, according to the playlist description, “The Ultimate House Party Jams.” What a fuckin’ dweeb. The first song to play when you shuffle is 365 by Charli XCX and you can't help but burst into laughter. He’s not wrong, of course, but you can’t even slightly believe that Steve has listened to this song, let alone added it to a playlist.

“Great choice!” A voice, light as a bell, rings from behind you, and you turn to greet its owner only to be met face to face with Chrissy Cunningham. The second to last person you’d expect to know this song.

“Oh, yeah,” You stutter, unsure of how to respond. You wouldn’t call yourself a 365 party girl, especially not right now.

“You here with anyone?” Her ponytail swings as she cocks her head to the side, inspecting you.

“Uh, nah, not really. Chris is my brother, this party’s for him.”

“Oh, yeah! You’re Bee, right?”

“To some,” You laugh nervously, hating to be preceded by your brother’s reputation. “And you’re Chrissy, right? I didn’t know you knew him.”

“Oh, I don’t really. I’m here on a date.”

“Who’s your-“

“Hey, baby.” No. God, no fucking way. Eddie seemingly appears from nowhere, sliding his arm around Chrissy’s waist, hand playfully low on her hip. Suddenly, you’re seething, teeth clenched together and you’re convinced you can feel the beginning of a migraine. “What’s got you talkin’ to the wet blanket? Drink not strong enough?” He eyes you, amused by the way your eye twitches.

“Eddie! Be nice, this is Chris’s sister!”

Eddie scoffs at her, head thrown back. “I know, Princess. Tweety and I go way back.”

“I thought you said your name was Bee?”

You shrug. “It’s one of ‘em. Tweety, however, is not.” Not anymore, but you don’t add that part out loud.

“Whatever. C’mon, let me introduce you to the other, way less sexy Chris.” And without another glance your way, Eddie takes his girl into the backyard.

“Fuckin’ asshole.” You mutter, adding another, much less fun song to the queue.

“Okay, enough moping!” Robin snatches your phone from you just as Julien Baker’s voice starts in, quickly switching it back to Steve’s clubbing playlist. “C’mon, let’s go dance!”

“Only if I can get another drink first.” Your rum and coke is gone, and you’re feeling far too sober to be in the same room as Eddie, let alone his date. The thought sends chills of what you can only assume are disgust up your spine. Poor Chrissy, Eddie must have charmed her into going out with him, how else do you explain that couple? What lies did he tell her to convince her he’s a decent enough guy?

“Hey, stop seething, I can see the foam about to come out of your mouth.” Robin snaps you out of seeing red, handing you a hard cider that you pout at. “I wanted a dirty shirley.”

“And I want you alive in the morning to help me clean this place up. As the host, I win by default.”

You huff dramatically, but take the can anyway. “Can you believe Eddie convinced Chrissy to come here with him?”

Robin only shrugs. “He’s not a bad guy, Beebs. I think deep down, you know that.”

You bite your tongue. It is not your place. Your personal grievances are not your friends’ problems. “Maybe, but they’re so different.”

Robin shrugs. “It was either Chrissy or—“ She cuts herself off abruptly, and when you try to meet her eyes she averts them.

“Or who, Rob?”

She shakes her head. “Nothing, never mind. Hey, look! Your brother’s here!”

You cock an eyebrow at her, but she’s not budging, pointing towards the entryway where your brother is being greeted in all directions. Someone hands him a beer, while another friend sparks a joint before passing it to him. It amazes you how loved your brother is after the hell he raises, and people barely register you exist, let alone that you’re his sister.

“Hey, kiddos!” Chris breaks away from his mob of fans to greet you and Robin, embracing you both in a group hug. Luckily, your brother doesn’t give a shit about how cool the rest of Hawkins thinks you are. He offers a hand out to Steve behind you. “Thank you for putting all this together, man. Means a lot.” Robin opens her mouth to argue, but closes it when Chris looks at her. “And thank you for letting him destroy your place for the night. I’ll help you with the damage in the morning.” He winks at Robin, who gives him the biggest toothy smile possible.

“Chris, man, you comin’ out? We’re playin’ beer pong.” One of Chris’s buddies, Gareth, offers him the tiny plastic ball.

“Oh, fuck yeah, man. But only if you’re on my team, I'm not losing to you and Eds at my own party.”

-

It’s three rounds before Chris and Steve convince you to play, Gareth having tapped out for the night to puke in the bushes. Eddie snickers to his cronies as you approach the table, sliding your windbreaker from your arms. For some reason, the exposure of your skin shuts him up, and you flex your fingers dramatically before plucking the ball from Steve’s hand. “You’re goin’ down, Sweetheart.” Eddie jabs his ringed pointer finger at you, and your cheeks flush with embarrassment.

He seems to notice his slip up, clearing his throat dramatically. “You gonna play, or what?”

You blink once, twice before nodding, suddenly feeling the effects of your earlier drinks. Have you eaten tonight?

You aim as well as your body allows, managing to sink the ball into the back corner cup. Your friends cheer, high diving each other before each extending a hand to you, and Eddie groans, removing the plastic before downing the cup and removing it from the lineup. “Beginner’s luck.”

“Oh, please!” Robin scolds from beside you. “Ballsy for someone to say after losing two out of the last three.” The small crowd of gathered acquaintances chuckle, earning a weak glare from a very intoxicated Eddie before he sets up his shot, effortlessly dropping the ball into the center cup. You begrudgingly remove it, chugging the lukewarm beer while your friends cheer and boo, all in good fun.

It mostly continues like that, a neck and neck game between your team consisting of you, Chris, and Steve against Eddie, Jeff, and a very giggly Chrissy. By the end, the backyard is on a tilted axis, and only one cup remains in front of either team.

“You ready to tap yet?” Eddie taunts, though he’s been leaning over the table for the last couple rounds, arms bracing him from falling to the ground.

“You wish, Munson.” And you let it fly, but your face falls when you realize you’d been too cocky, too soon. It bounces higher than you’d anticipated, sailing right over the cup and onto the ground, everyone’s eyes glued to it. “Fuck.” Robin snickers and you snap your head to glare at her. “Thank you for that vote of confidence.” You sneer, and she stifles another giggle fit.

“This is it, honey, for all the marbles.” You think he’s talking to Chrissy until he winks directly at you, the corner of his mouth pinching into a smirk. You look from him to his date to find her pouting, eyebrows scrunched together and arms crossed. You raise an eyebrow, unsure how to reassure the former cheerleader.

While you’re not looking, Eddie sinks the ball. Which, let’s be honest, you knew that was coming. You roll your eyes and lift the piss flavored drink to your lips, chugging with an open throat to avoid tasting it. Your friends and brother cheer you on, and when you slam the solo cup onto the table, you let out a massive belch. Eddie’s grin has split into a toothy beam, eyes wide with wonder, penetrating your very soul. Fuckin’ weirdo.

-

When your dizziness has subsided, you find Robin on the makeshift dance floor, a drink dangerously spilling over in her hand. “Hey, grouchy!” She calls you over, beckoning with her dance moves. You play along, pretending to be roped in by her lasso. “What’s got you all frowny now?”

You shrug, shaking your hips to a song you can’t place, trying to enjoy your buzz now that you’re not seeing double. “Guess I’m taking beer pong too seriously.”

Robin snorts. “Please, when have you ever given a shit about stupid drinking games?”

“I guess since Chris is home. Wanted to impress him.” Robin eyes you, biting her lip. “What?” You pry, and when she doesn’t answer, poke her in the ribs. “Cmon, spit it out.”

“I don’t think it was Chris you were trying to impress.” She winces, awaiting an outburst that doesn’t come. Instead, you reply with a monotone “Excuse me?”

She smiles tensely, all teeth and gums. “Sorry, I call em like I see em.” Robin’s eyes slide past you, landing over your shoulder. When you snap your head to find what she’s looking at, your eyes fall on Eddie, a beer forgotten in his hand as he whispers in Chrissy’s ear. He must be hilarious, because she can’t stop fucking laughing.

“Oh, you can’t be serious. You think I'm worried about what Munson has to say about me?”

She refocuses on your face, brows furrowed. “Maybe not what he has to say, but definitely what he thinks.” You gape at her, unable to respond with something clever. She only pats your shoulder. “It’s alright, you’ll figure it out soon enough.”

-

“Okay, everyone out. You don’t have to go home, but ya can’t stay here.” Steve is waving people out the door, thanking them for destroying his and Robin’s apartment with a tired smile on his face. Finally, shuts the door. “That everyone?”

“Uh, no. We have some stragglers.”

Steve looks around the main room, then the kitchen. “Where?”

Robin juts her thumb to Steve’s bedroom. “Sorry, man.” You stifle a giggle with a cough, throwing another beer can into the recycling bin.

“Every damn time!” Steve stomps up to the door and starts banging. “Hey, party’s over. Put your pants back on!” He throws his bedroom door open, and you and Robin peer over his shoulders like nosy children.

“Whoa!” The larger figure scrambles, throwing the duvet over their head, while the smaller one shrieks, covering her face as Steve flicks the light on.

“Oh, come on. Eddie?”

“Hi, Stevie.” He slowly emerges from the blanket. “Funny running into you here.”

“It’s my room, idiot! Get out!”

“Okay, okay! Shit, I thought you wanted my help cleaning this shithole tomorrow!”

Steve huffs. “Doesn’t mean you can occupy my room and soil my sheets like this.”

Eddie gasps in mock offense. “I’ll have you know I’m very clean, just had all my shots.” Steve only glares, but he gets the message across. “Okay! Damn. Sorry, Chrissy. I’ll call you, yeah?”

The girl rolls her eyes, face still cherry red. “Whatever, Eddie.” She snatches her shirt off the ground, and Steve turns to give her privacy. “Sorry, Steve. He said it was okay.” She avoids your eyes as she leaves, Eddie waving goofily behind her. Something in your chest hurts, and you chock it up to rage.

“You want sloppy seconds, Bee?”

You ignore him, and make your way back to the kitchen to rage clean. Over your shoulder, you hear your brother exclaims something, but you can’t make it out.

-

[deans-queen]

Change of Heart 💚

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟏

Pairing: Dean x Y/N (Female Reader)

Summary: Dean and Y/N are hunters who do not get along. Fed up with their constant bickering, Sam forces them to stay in the same motel room for the night, to learn getting along with each other.

Warnings: language, smut, enemies to lovers, angst. (Let me know if I miss any)

Pre-AN: This fills the "Whats your problem with me?" square for @jacklesversebingo (This is also an enemies to lovers fic.)

Reader's POV

Sam, Dean, and I have been hunting together for a couple of months now. I only joined because I’ve been friends with Sam since college. Sam and I get along great; however, it’s his older brother, Dean, I can’t stand. He’s hot-headed, arrogant, stubborn, a know-it-all, and thinks he’s God’s gift to women… which, I can’t say I disagree with. Despite hating him so damn much, I’m also completely in love with him. But come on… how could I not be? He’s tall, handsome as hell, and he’s so bad but he does it so well. He has the most beautiful green eyes I’ve ever seen. God, how can one person be so infuriating and infatuating at the same damn time?? I can’t show my true feelings for him because, for whatever reason, he hates me. He’s been treating me like crap since the first day we met, and I don’t know why. I don’t know what I said or did to make him hate me so much, and it’s so goddamn frustrating.

After another  grueling and exhausting hunt, we decided to stay at a motel for the night. Dean and I had been arguing, as usual, about something completely trivial. Sam rubbed his head as we got out of the Impala, clearly fed up with our constant bickering.

“Dean, you are so damn hard headed!” I shouted, slamming the car door behind me.

“I’m hard headed?” he exclaimed, his voice laced with disbelief. “You’re the one who has to be so damn annoying.” He got out of the car, slamming the door.

“Oh please, I’m annoying?” I rolled my eyes at him. “I could go on and on about how you’re just such a walk in the park,” I added with heavy sarcasm. He’s such a big baby, always complaining about every little thing.

Before Dean could make another smart-ass comment, Sam cut in, shouting, “That is enough!”

We both look at Sam and stay silent. 

“Honestly, I’m done with you two,” Sam said, his voice tight with frustration. “All this constant bickering and fighting—it’s out of control. Every damn day.”

He glanced between Dean and me, rubbing a hand over his forehead as if trying to rub away a headache we’d caused. It was pretty clear that he’d reached his limit with us, and honestly, I couldn’t blame him.

“But he—” I started to protest.

“Ah-ah, Y/N. I don’t wanna hear it.”

Dean just stood there, smirking like he found the whole situation hilarious, which only seemed to make Sam angrier.

“Dude, cut it out,” Sam snapped, shooting Dean a glare. “You’re not helping.”

Dean glared right back. “Sam, don’t you—”

“I’m serious, Dean. Knock. It. The. Hell. Off.” He said, sternly. 

That shut him up real quick.

Sam sighed, his expression softening just a bit. “Now, listen,” he continued, scolding us like a pair of unruly kids. “We’re a team—a family. If we want this to work, we need to figure out how to get along.”

Dean and I exchanged a glance, both of us finally quiet. Deep down, we knew Sam was right. All this constant fighting wasn’t doing anyone any favors, especially with the pressure of this case hanging over us.

Sam sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m gonna go get us our rooms. Think you two can manage to stay here and not tear each other apart while I’m gone?”

Dean rolled his eyes, but a hint of a smirk played on his lips. “We’ll try to behave…no promises, though.”

I gave Sam a reassuring nod. “We’ll be fine. Promise.”

He shot us a warning look, as if daring us to test his patience one more time, then headed toward the front desk.

We stayed silent, the tension still lingering but softened in the quiet. I leaned back against the hood of the Impala, my arms crossed as I stared up at the fading evening sky. Dean stood by the driver’s side door, hands shoved into his pockets, his eyes fixed somewhere in the distance.

Neither of us said a word, but there was an unspoken truce between us, a silent agreement to keep things calm—at least for now. The only sounds were the rustle of leaves in the breeze and the occasional crunch of gravel under Sam’s boots as he made his way back to us.

Sam approached us, two room keys dangling from his fingers, his expression a mix of caution and annoyance.

“Alright, here’s the deal,” he began. “You’re not gonna like this, but the place is fully booked. I could only get two rooms.” His gaze shifted between Dean and me, almost apologetic. “Which means… you two are gonna have to share.”

I glanced at Dean, who raised an eyebrow, the hint of a smirk threatening to break through. “Great,” he drawled, sarcasm dripping from his tone. “Just what I always wanted.”

I rolled my eyes, trying to keep the irritation out of my voice. “Yeah, well, let’s just get through this without another argument.”

Sam sighed, handing us the key. “Please, just try not to kill each other before morning.” He walked off toward his own room, leaving Dean and me to figure out how we were going to survive the night under the same roof.

Dean snatched the key from Sam’s hand, shooting him a hard look. Without another word, he turned and started walking toward the rooms. As soon as he was out of earshot, I grabbed Sam’s arm and pulled him aside.

“Sam, this is never gonna work!” I whispered urgently, glancing over my shoulder to make sure Dean wasn’t listening. “He hates me…”

Sam sighed, running a hand through his hair. “He doesn’t hate you, Y/N. He’s just… Dean. You know how he is. He acts tough, but he doesn’t mean half of what he says.”

I shook my head, frustration bubbling up. “No, Sam. He really hates me. Every time I say or do anything, he has some smart-ass comment or looks at me like I’m the most annoying person on the planet.”

Sam placed a hand on my shoulder, his tone softening. “Look, I know it feels that way, but trust me, he doesn’t hate you. If anything…” He trailed off, a knowing look in his eyes.

“What?” I pressed.

“Nothing,” he said quickly, shaking his head. “Just… try to make it through the night without killing each other. Who knows? Maybe you’ll surprise yourself.”

I frowned, unconvinced, but nodded reluctantly. “Fine. But if he starts something, it’s on him.”

Sam chuckled and patted my shoulder before heading to his room. “Good luck.”

I took a deep breath, trying to steady my nerves and gather my thoughts. With Sam’s words still rattling in my mind, I turned and headed toward Dean, who was unlocking the door to our room.

As I approached, I stepped forward, intending to walk in first, but Dean, being Dean, cut me off and stepped inside ahead of me without a word. Typical.

He crossed the room and immediately claimed the bed closest to the door, dropping his bag onto the floor beside it with a sense of finality. I made my way to the other bed, setting my bag down a little more gently, though my movements were tense. The air between us felt heavy, loaded with unspoken irritation.

I sat on the edge of my bed, glancing briefly at him as he rifled through his duffel. For a moment, I considered saying something—anything—to break the silence. But then again, maybe silence wasn’t the worst thing right now.

Silently, I placed my duffle bag on the second bed, feeling Dean’s gaze boring into me without even needing to look. That intense, unmistakable glare. I ignored it, knowing exactly why he was pissed—Sam’s brilliant idea of forcing us to share a room, hoping it might miraculously make us get along. As if that was going to happen.

With a sigh, I sat on the edge of the bed before flopping back, covering my face with my hands. The tension in the room was suffocating, thick enough to choke on, and I didn’t know how much more of it I could handle.

Was all of this stress—this endless back and forth with Dean—really worth it? The way he drove me crazy with his sharp comments and that cocky smirk? Was it worth the fact that, deep down, I couldn’t stop myself from feeling something for him? A crush that, no matter how much I tried, wouldn’t go away.

I let out another sigh, trying to shove the thought from my mind. It didn’t matter how I felt about him. Dean Winchester wasn’t the kind of guy to care about things like that—or someone like me.

Dean’s sharp eyes followed me as I sat down, his glare practically burning into me. When I leaned back and covered my face with my hands, he let out an annoyed scoff, the sound cutting through the thick silence in the room. Without a word, he tossed his bag down and flopped onto his own bed, the frame creaking slightly under his weight.

The tension hung in the air like a storm cloud, heavy and oppressive. He shifted onto his side, propping his head up with one hand as he kept his gaze locked on me.

After a moment, he broke the silence, his voice low but edged with impatience. “So… you planning to sit there hiding under your hands all night, or are you gonna say something?”

I sat up slowly, letting my hands drop into my lap, my heart pounding as I finally locked eyes with him. His gaze was sharp, challenging, but I didn’t back down. My voice wavered at first, but the frustration bubbling inside me gave it an edge.

“What do you want from me, Dean?” I asked, my tone trembling but steady enough to hold its ground. “Because it feels like no matter what I do, no matter what I say, it’s never good enough for you. I’m tired of walking on eggshells. So, just tell me—what the hell do you want? Seriously, what’s your problem with me??”

The silence between us was deafening, the words hanging heavy in the air like thunderclouds on the verge of breaking. My chest tightened, the weight of all the unsaid things between us pressing down hard, making it hard to breathe.

Dean’s jaw clenched, and for a second, I thought he might snap back, throw one of his usual sarcastic jabs my way. But instead, he just stared at me, his expression shifting slightly, as though he was wrestling with something he didn’t want to say out loud. The storm wasn’t just between us anymore—it was inside him too.

Dean shifted, propping himself up on his elbow, his sharp eyes locking onto mine. The intensity in his gaze made my heart skip, though I refused to look away. For a moment, he just stared, his expression unreadable, before letting out a scoff that was equal parts exasperation and something else.

“You wanna know what I want?” he asked, his voice rough, almost biting. “I want you to stop being such a damn pain in the ass. You never listen, you’ve always gotta have the last word, and you’re stubborn as hell. And—” he paused, his jaw tightening, “—you’re… goddamn annoying.”

His words stung, but it wasn’t just the frustration in his voice that caught me off guard. There was something else underneath it, buried just deep enough that it wasn’t easy to place. Something raw, something unspoken that made my breath hitch despite myself.

I glared at him, my chest tightening as his words hit me like a slap. My heart pounded in my ears, but I wasn’t about to let him have the last word—not this time.

“Oh, and like you’re such a walk in the park, Dean?” I snapped, my voice sharp as I sat up straighter, meeting his gaze head-on. “You’re bossy, short-tempered, and half the time, you don’t even bother to explain what the hell is going on! So maybe—just maybe—I wouldn’t be such a ‘pain in the ass’ if you weren’t so damn impossible to deal with!”

The words spilled out before I could stop them, but I didn’t care. My chest heaved with anger, and the silence that followed was deafening, charged with something I couldn’t quite define.

Dean’s eyes narrowed, his jaw tightening as he leaned forward slightly. “You think I’m impossible to deal with?” he said, his voice low, almost a growl. “Newsflash, sweetheart—I’m not the one who flies off the handle every five seconds.”

His words were laced with frustration, but his tone had shifted. The air between us felt electric, like a storm about to break. Beneath the anger, there was something else—a spark, a tension that neither of us could ignore. My heart raced, and I couldn’t tell if it was from the argument or the way Dean’s gaze seemed to burn straight through me.

“Because you never listen to anything I have to say, Dean!” I shot back, stepping toward him, my anger flaring to match his. “It’s like you don’t care—like nothing I say ever matters to you!”

My hands clenched into fists at my sides, my voice shaking as frustration bubbled over. “And you know what? I’m only here because Sam is my friend, and he asked me to help with this case. If it weren’t for him, I wouldn’t even be here, putting up with your crap. I don’t deserve to be treated like this, Dean!”

I glared up at him, my chest heaving as the words poured out, sharp and cutting. We stood toe-to-toe, the space between us charged with an almost unbearable tension. His eyes flashed, his jaw tightening, but he didn’t move back, didn’t even flinch.

Dean clenched his jaw so tightly I could see the muscle in his cheek twitch, his fists balled at his sides. His glare was sharp enough to cut, and it bore down on me with the full force of his frustration.

“Oh, trust me,” he said, his voice low and venomous, “I don’t want you here. I’ve had to deal with your attitude for weeks, and I’m done. I never wanted you on this case—you’re a liability. But Sam, as usual, had to have his way, and I didn’t have a choice.”

He took a step closer, his boots heavy on the floor, until he was right in front of me, his chest nearly brushing mine. His eyes blazed with fury, but underneath it, there was something else. Something darker, something dangerous.

The air between us crackled, and I felt my breath hitch as his presence loomed over me. My heart raced, a mix of anger, defiance, and something I wasn’t ready to name. I clenched my fists at my sides, refusing to back down even as his intensity pressed against me like a storm about to break.

“Wow, Dean. You might as well just stick a knife in my heart—it’d hurt less,” I said, my voice trembling under the weight of sadness.

I could feel the sting of tears threatening to spill, my throat tightening as I fought to keep them at bay. The anger that had been fueling me moments ago was gone, replaced by a hollow ache that I couldn’t hide.

Dean froze, your words landing like a punch to his gut. He’d said it to get a rise out of you, to make his point—but hearing the raw pain in your voice and seeing the tears welling in your eyes? That was something he hadn’t expected, something he didn’t know how to deal with.

His expression softened, the usual hard edge in his eyes fading as he took a small step back. He stood there for a moment, staring down at you, his lips parted like he wanted to say something but couldn’t quite find the words. Finally, he let out a heavy sigh and ran a hand through his hair, the tension in his shoulders easing just slightly.

“Wait… Y/N, I didn’t mean it,” he said quietly, his voice softer than you’d heard in a long time. He looked away, avoiding your gaze, as if meeting your eyes would make the guilt he was feeling all the more real.

The room was quiet except for the sound of your own shaky breaths, the storm between you shifting into something calmer but no less charged.

“You know what… just forget it, okay?” I said, forcing a nervous laugh that did little to mask the crack in my voice. I kept my eyes fixed on my duffle bag, my hands shaking as I grabbed it. I couldn’t look at him—not now.

“You’re right. I don’t belong here,” I added, my voice quieter this time, as if admitting it out loud made it sting even more.

I slung the bag over my shoulder, swallowing hard, willing myself not to cry. “Maybe I should just go back home to California… where I do belong,” I continued, the slight waver in my voice betraying me despite my best efforts to sound strong.

Dean didn’t say anything, but I could feel his eyes on me, watching as I turned toward the door. My legs felt heavy, my heart even heavier, but I was determined to leave before I completely broke down. I refused to let him see just how much this hurt. And with that, I walked out the door, refusing to look back.

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟐 𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐨𝐨𝐧...

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫’𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞 🤍

I’m backkkkkkk!!! I’m so so sorry for being MIA it’s been a lot for me the past month but I am back and I am more ready then ever to put out more stories for you!

I hope you enjoyed this one!! It’s going to be 2 parts — so there is more to come! I love you all so much and thank you for being so patient with me 🫶🏻🫶🏻 Feel free to let me know what you think! I always love reading feedback!

Like & follow for more !! Xoxo

Want to read more? Check out my other stories!

Master list 📋

Bingo Masterlist 💚

𝐓𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

@kr804573 / @deanscherrypie420 / @reignsboy19 / @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx / @riah1606 / @deanwinchestersgirl8734 / @thoughtfullyfurryangel / @10ava01 / @jackles010378 @winchesterwild78 / @ladysparkles78 / @whimsyfinny / @deansimpalababy

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

Making Arrangements Part One

Masterlist | Part Two

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Reader

Rating: Explicit - 18+ Only. Any minors interacting will be blocked.

Length: 6.1K

Notes: It's a two-shot! Part two will have explicit content.

No beta, we die like Billy Kimber

Warnings: Arranged marriage; mentions of prostitution; canon-typical attitudes toward sex; slow burn; enemies to allies to lovers; Reader has a brother and an aunt; no physical descriptions of non-canon characters; Reader gets drunk

Summary: If you’d been involved with anyone, if there’d ever been a hint or a whisper of a beau recently, you might’ve been able to plead differently for your future. 

But you knew as well as your family that this was your best move, and with no great love waiting in the wings, there was nothing to be done but to marry the man. You secured your interests, the interests of your family. You gained a powerful ally—but you also gained powerful enemies. 

“D’you think you could bother to give them a smile?” 

On the face of it, it seemed a fair question, but all things considered, it made you want to punch Thomas Michael Shelby squarely in the jaw. You didn’t, of course—that conduct would be unbecoming of a bride in front of her new family. 

You’d been getting knowing looks from the women all night—pursed lips from Ada and Polly, and a wide smile from Esme. It was almost wolf-like, the way she watched you—welcome to the pack. 

“I could,” You conceded, nodding, casting your gaze around the party. The revels had only just begun. It was early enough that nearly everyone was coherent, on their feet, but you knew that in just a couple of hours, the party would likely turn to shit. These people would be drunk, coked out of their minds, dancing, and flirting…Probably fucking. You had no doubt that you would be expected to do your wifely chore that evening. 

Maybe that was why a permanent frown had been fixed on your lips from the time you’d put on your wedding dress, as you’d walked down the aisle, all the way through the fucking I Dos. 

“You’re still frowning.” 

You didn’t bother to hide your eye roll before you turned your head fully to look at him. He didn’t give you the same courtesy. He watched the revelers with the same bored speculation as you’d given them just moments ago. 

“And this is what your fucking grin looks like?” You snipped. He raised his cigarette to his lips, drawing in a deep drag that sank his cheeks. He managed to cast you a knowing glance, his brow raising. 

“It’s the most that you’ll get of me tonight.” 

“And of me. Don’t ask me to stoop to something that you won’t bother with. I’m your wife now. At least pretend to respect me in front of them,” You insisted, nodding toward the others. It took him a moment, but Tommy nodded. 

“And behind closed doors?” He asked. 

“That’ll be none of their concern. And you’ll have to take it up with me later.” 

“I intend to.” 

--  

You sat on the edge of the bed, and watched. All Tommy did was light up another damn cigarette. You weren’t sure if you married a man or a chimney. 

You could hardly believe that you had married the man at all. 

Your family had never been a big player in Birmingham, or Camden. You’d kept your head down, stayed out of the way, operated cleanly. When the Shelbys had come to you with a proposition, it hadn’t been for your minor operations in the UK—it had been for your connections in America. They were looking to expand, offered you a good deal, and a union between the two households. 

When it had first been brought to your attention, you’d thought that it was a pretty good idea. But when it came down the line that Thomas Shelby had specified an interest in marrying you, well—the thought had become less and less appealing. If you’d cared less for your family, or known less about the mounting tensions that they were facing overseas, you would’ve laughed the idea off. If you’d been involved with anyone, if there’d ever been a hint or a whisper of a beau recently, you might’ve been able to plead differently for your future. 

But you knew as well as your family that this was your best move, and with no great love waiting in the wings, there was nothing to be done but to marry the man. 

You secured your interests, the interests of your family. You gained a powerful ally—but you also gained powerful enemies. 

Tommy had spoken to you only once before your wedding day. The meeting had been brief, and he’d done all of the talking. He’d promised to protect you, sworn to never raise a hand against you. 

“You know as well as I do,” He’d insisted, “That this is the best way forward for our families. And I know,” He’d leaned in a touch, “That you want what’s best for your people.” He’d reached into his pocket and drawn out a small velvet box, setting it on the table before he stood, straightening his waistcoat. 

“You have until tomorrow night. I need an answer.” 

You’d sent him your reply—a single slip of paper sent with your brother Lewis that simply read: Yes 

“...It was a nice party,” You offered now, unable to stand the silence any longer. 

“You didn’t seem to particularly enjoy it.” 

“No one left with a bullet wound. In my family, we consider that a successful bash.” 

Tommy’s lips quirked just a touch as he nodded. 

“Our brothers seemed to get on,” You hedged, desperate to draw this out. You worried that once you stopped speaking, he may…Want to consummate the marriage. You weren’t sure how you felt about that. You’d heard rumors, whispers that Tommy was a good lover, but you weren’t sure that you were ready to find that out yourself. 

“They did,” Tommy nodded again. “Lewis and John already seem thick as thieves.” 

“Yes.” 

The two of you fell into quiet again, and it was a harrowing few moments before Tommy pushed himself off of the dresser. Your hands dropped instinctively to the bed, grasping at the sheets—but Tommy turned and went for the door. 

“G’night, then.” 

Your brow furrowed as you glanced around. Goodnight? But—

“Where will you sleep?” 

Tommy stopped in the open doorway, nodding behind himself. “I’ve a room down the hall.” He turned away, adding, “Shout if you need something.” 

You hesitated a few moments longer before you sprung up, darting forward and shoving the door closed before locking it. You drew in a deep breath, closing your eyes and letting your forehead rest against the dark, cool wood grain. 

He didn’t take. 

You had gone into the room expecting shoving hands and a quick coupling, but Tommy kept his distance. You weren’t sure if you were more relieved or insulted. You turned away from the door, leaning back against it and peering around your dim new living quarters. 

Relieved, you decided. 

--  

Insulted, you decided. 

Tommy had the gall to lean in and peck your cheek when he’d come down to breakfast that morning. 

It took everything in you not to shove him away.

Polly made no comment on how wane you looked the next morning, nor did Ada or Esme cast you knowing grins or teases. They all watched Tommy, and the little slip of a shadow that you’d met last night—a birch-pale, dark-haired woman named Lizzie. 

You didn’t think that the news had made it back to your family—the fact that your husband had just spent his first night as a newly-married man with a prostitute-turned-secretary while you slept alone in an unfamiliar room wearing the lacy nightie that you’d bought specifically for your honeymoon. 

Esme and Ada excused themselves as quickly as they could, but Polly lingered, and offered,

“He’s a prickly sort, and these things take time. Men have their needs and urges.”

“...Right,” You pronounced crisply as you stirred some sugar into your tea, “And I’m a novice in a nunnery.” 

--  

“You should’a seen the girls at the party last night,” Lewis groaned.

For all of your irritation during the last few days, you’d been happy, truly happy to see your family enjoying themselves. Carving out your space in the literary scene of London and running a few underground print shops wasn’t exactly a serene existence. You constantly had to move operations, vet workers, stop-up leaks in production cycles and deal with snitches. Your entire family was dedicated to the business, but your brother was the most determined of the lot. Lewis had become the man of the house at a young age, after your father had been hauled into prison for treason. 

So to see him let loose a little—well, more than a little, truth be told—was a heartening sight. 

“I don’t think I would’ve quite enjoyed them the way you did,” You raised a brow, smile widening as he ducked his head bashfully, “But I’m glad you had a good time.” 

“And you?”

The pointed question came from just behind you. You didn’t dare turn to look at your Aunt Pearl. She knew you far too well. You could hide your feelings and concerns well enough from Lew—you had plenty of practice. But Pearl had been a motherly figure, a guiding hand in what would’ve been an otherwise rudderless life. She learned to read you like an open book when you were young, and you had been powerless to change the way that she understood you, even as the seasons of your life had passed. 

You turned your head back toward her just a touch, biting the inside of your cheek as you waited for her to go on. It was a few moments of quiet before she urged: “Lewis, go get some air.” 

You drew a deep breath in through your nose, fighting to steady yourself, and giving Lewis an encouraging smile and nod before he stood, pushing away from the kitchen table and heading outside. You saw him tipping his head back toward you, trying to catch on the line of questions that Pearl was about to level—as if neither of you knew any better to wait until he was fully out of earshot. 

“Who’s Lizzie?” She finally asked. You weren’t sure how to answer at first. You scrubbed your hand over the back of your neck, making sure that you heard the door shutting behind Lewis. 

“It’s just…Growing pains,” You finally offered, gaze set stalwartly on the table. “Every couple has them.” 

“Where was he last night?” 

“How should I know?” “He’s your husband. You’re supposed to know.” 

You didn’t have a chance to argue before she strode closer, her hand resting on your shoulder. You didn’t flinch, or draw away. You were used to her hand on your shoulder, her nails digging into your skin. She didn’t dig her nails in just now—she merely rested and waited. 

“Growing pains,” You finally offered again as you looked straight ahead. It was as if Polly had her hand on your other shoulder, and was staring you down in warning. 

“Pains?” Pearl repeated. “Physical?” 

You don’t want to answer, but—

“Emotional,” You blurted. It was another moment of quiet before she hummed. You stopped yourself from turning to look at Pearl—to catch the no doubt heavy judgment in her dark eyes, and the twist of displeasure to her small mouth. 

“I see.” 

“It’s early,” You insisted. She hummed again, stepping around you to walk toward the window. It didn’t take much to glance over, to see where Lewis was playfully fighting with John and Finn. 

“Do they know?” Pearl asked. 

“About where he was?” You shook your head. “I’m sure his brothers do.” 

“And?” 

“And what?” You scoffed. “It’s no business of theirs. Our marriage is between myself and Thomas.” 

Pearl turned to face you with a crisp smoothness, her eyes narrowed as she cocked a hip.

“And that’s all you have to say about it?” She asked. You pursed your lips. You had plenty to say about it, but it would land on deaf ears. Any of Pearl’s meddling would spell trouble, and you weren’t about to sic the dogs less than twenty-four hours into wedded bliss. 

“Yes,” You nodded firmly. Pearl’s eyes narrowed further before she hummed, turning back toward the window. 

“...This is good for us, Pearl,” You reminded her. “The Shelby’s are strong, they know what they’re doing. I just have to hold up my end.” 

“And what end is that?” 

“That of a doting wife.” 

“And mother?” 

Doubtful. Thomas couldn’t even be bothered to touch you as it was. But it was early, you reminded yourself. Things could still change. Things would change. They had to. 

“Perhaps,” You leveled evenly. “Someday. Time will tell.” 

“Time,” Peal repeated, nodding as she rounded you. “Well, if we’re going on time, so far, you’re not managing it particularly well.” 

You slid down in your seat a little as Pearl finally left the dining room. Your interest in the day’s paper had been sapped; your tea had gone cold. You didn’t want anything to do with Thomas Shelby, or with his family, not anymore. If you were going to make it through at least one year of marriage, you needed to nip this in the bud. 

-- 

“I need to talk to you.” 

Tommy didn’t so much as glance at you, his gaze trained steadily on a horse. You waited a moment, shifting from foot to foot, but perhaps you shouldn’t have waited. You’d spent nearly two weeks waiting. Maybe he hadn't heard you? You stepped a little closer and raised a hand to touch him. You couldn’t bring yourself to make contact, and your hand curled in on itself just before it could brush his waistcoat. 

“Thomas?” You pressed. 

“I’m busy.” 

“When can we speak, then?” 

“Tonight.” 

Certain that he meant it earnestly, you turned away and left.

But the evening came and went, and you found yourself sitting alone, stewing in front of your uneaten dinner and eyeing his empty plate. The house was too quiet, and your thoughts were far too loud. You needed to clear your buzzing head—you wanted a drink, and some fun. 

-- 

“You can’t let them push you around.”

The warning was spoken knowingly. You knew that she was right, but you couldn’t bring yourself to meet Esme’s eye. Her gaze was so heavy, so all-knowing—nothing like the bright, uninterested gaze that Thomas often offered you. But Esme was having none of it. She dipped her head into your field of vision and clapped her hand over yours where it rested on the table beside your drink. You shook her hand away lightly, reaching for your drink instead. Maybe coming to the office to nip out of the bottle Polly kept in her desk had been a bad idea. But you couldn’t bring yourself to just sit in that house and rot in your anger. 

“No one is pushing me anywhere,” You grumbled.

Esme let out a soft, cruel chuckle. 

“I know what it is,” She insisted, “To come into this family and feel on the outside, feel that you don’t have a voice. Becomin’ a Shelby doesn’t erase who you were before.” She reached out again, taking up your drink and drawing in a deep pull before you could argue. As annoyed as you were, you knew that she was right. You nodded slowly, topping the glass up when she set it back down. 

“...Should I not bother replacing Polly’s alcohol, then?” 

Esme’s smile grew as yours did, and the two descended into quiet giggles. 

-- 

“We need to talk.” 

It was steely when it left you this time. Despite that, Thomas still paid you no mind. In fact, he went out of his way to take his time drawing on his cigarette before fishing into his waistcoat. He pointedly drew out his pocket watch, flipping it open and eyeing the time. The tick tick tick of the second hand passed for several long moments before he flipped it shut again, lifting his gaze to the hustle and bustle of the office around him. 

“Later,” He offered. 

Later, always later. Weeks of later, of hearing Lizzie’s footsteps and the creaking across the floor as she left the house before you were up and about for the morning. Weeks of sitting alone in that empty house, putting on a brave face for Pearl and Lewis. Weeks of anger and shame eating through your gut. 

“Now,” You spat.

He turned his head toward you, brows ticking up. You could feel the pace of the others in the shop around you slow just a bit, and speeding up again as Thomas shot them a glance.

“Alright,” He murmured, resting his hand on your lower back. You let him steer you toward his office, resolute in your irritation. He opened the door for you, waving you inside and shutting the door behind the two of you. 

“What is so urgent that you pulled me away from my work?” 

“Your work of watching other people count your money?” You quipped in irritation. 

“...What is it that you want to discuss.” 

“You need to keep your whoring private.” 

Thomas’s brows jumped with intrigue, his chin tipping down toward you.

“Explain.” 

“I understand that we went into this with our eyes open and a mutual understanding that the actions that we were taking were for the good of our families, but to the rest of the world, we are husband and wife. I will not ask you to stop your carrying on, as I can't imagine that you’d abide by it if I did, but keep it private. I will not step out on you publicly, and I expect to be given that same respect.” 

Thomas blinked before he straightened, pushing away from the door and stubbing out his cigarette in an ashtray on the desk. He muttered something that you couldn’t hear, and you frowned. 

“Pardon me?” 

“Publicly,” He repeated firmly. “You said that you wouldn’t step out on me publicly.” 

“I did,” You nodded. 

“Do I get to know the lucky man’s name?”

Your face went hot with indignation. Was he trying to embarrass you? Whether he was or not, it was working. You folded your arms across your chest. 

“You’re missing my point.” 

“I take your point. You want me to treat you as my partner, and as my wife, you have that right.” 

“And will you?” 

“You can trust me to be discreet.” 

“I don’t trust you to do anything.” 

Thomas’ expression closed off, his eyes narrowing a touch, and your stomach twisted with nerves. 

“And might I ask why.” 

“What have you done to earn it? In our, what, two weeks of marriage, I have hardly seen you. You’ve made no point to acquaint me with your family or your business, and you’ve spent your nights down the hall with another woman. I’m not your wife, I’m a boarder.” 

Thomas considered for a moment before he gave a short nod. 

“I understand. I will make changes.” “Thomas—” 

“I will.” 

You pursed your lips together, pushing a sigh out through your nose before you gave a small nod of concession. 

“Alright.” 

“Anything else?” 

“...No.” And, just to seal the deal, “Thank you for your time. And for listening.” 

Thomas nodded, straightening up and opening the door for you. You strode toward it, and were nearly through before he rested a hand on your shoulder. You went still, turning your head toward him just a touch. Before you could get a good look at him, Thomas leaned in, brushing a kiss to your cheek. It was the most that he’d touched you since he’d kissed you the morning after your wedding. You thought that he may be making a show of affection for the office, but Thomas turned his head, brushing his lips against your ear.

“If I ever find out that another man has touched you,” He murmured, “I’ll take off the bastard’s hands and give them to you as an anniversary present.” 

You balked, shock wracking your chest as he placed a final kiss to your temple before he gave your ass a pat, spurring you into action and sending your scurrying back into the office, and out of his reach. 

--  

“It’ll be nice for you to fix up the place and make it your own,” Polly commented. 

“She was always going to get around to it of course,” Pearl insisted. You didn’t dare look away from the row of dressers. The one that you had in your bedroom was fine, but it was a bit small. You’d ordered several new pieces of clothing on Tommy’s account—well, on your joint account. Giving the name Mrs. Shelby had incited stunned, wide eyes from the shop keeper’s assistant and prompted fawning and a healthy discount. 

Still, as much as you were trying to bring your families together, you realized belatedly that in this case, it was an awful idea. Polly and Pearl had taken every opportunity to take digs at one another, leveling backhanded compliments with smug smiles and drags of their respective cigarettes. The two of them were so painfully similar, and perhaps that was why they seemed to hate one another so much. 

“Of course,” Polly echoed placidly.

“I want this one,” You pointed to the one in front of you.

“I’ll find the assistant,” Polly offered, brushing past you. You sighed heavily, shaking your head. 

“Please pull it together,” You muttered.

“I’ve nothing to pull together,” Pearl pronounced.

“Please,” You bit out again. “I can’t make any of this work if you and the others don’t, either.” 

You heard a deep sigh, chased by the tapping of her cigarette ash beside you. 

“I will be myself.” 

“I don’t need you to be yourself, Pearl. I need you to be pleasant.” 

A little knot of tension unwound as Pearl chuckled. 

“Becoming a missus really has given you fangs.” 

“I’d rather not use them, if possible.” 

“I understand.” 

“Thank you.” 

“...Are you going to give Miss Sourpuss the same talking-to when she gets back?” 

“Lord above.” 

--  

“You look like you’ve had a marvelous time.” 

Bringing Pearl and Polly to a somewhat peaceful place had been shock enough for that evening, but this took the absolute biscuit.

You might’ve yelped in fear at the sound of his voice if you hadn’t spotted the burning cigarette in the ashtray mere seconds before he spoke. As it was, you didn’t answer right away. You plastered yourself against the backdoor, your hands curled around your key and your purse. Thomas just arched a brow, expectant and silent. He wasn’t supposed to be there. You’d been told that he had business, and you had figured that once that had concluded, he would take care of other…Matters. You'd thought you’d have the house to yourself and have a nice cuppa before going to bed. 

You finally managed to push yourself forward, away from the door, your face hot with drink and embarrassment. 

“I didn’t think you’d be in,” You admitted. 

“You didn’t think I would be spending the evening in my own house?” 

“Esme told me there was a family meeting. She said that they can run late.” 

“You were misinformed.” 

“Clearly.” 

You watched Thomas warily as he drifted closer, going tense as he stepped around behind you. You hardly dared breathe for a moment, then let it out as you felt him slide your coat from your shoulders. 

“Thank you,” You mumbled as he stepped away with it.

“Were you with Esme?” He asked, tossing your coat over the back of a chair. 

“Mhm,” You nodded, taking a few steps deeper into the kitchen. “And Ada, Polly…And Pearl.” 

“Where were you?” 

“Polly’s house.” 

“Mm.” 

You watched Tommy round the counter, taking up a clean glass and a bottle of whiskey. You nodded, stepping closer. “Please.” 

He poured a good amount before setting the glass on the table. You sat down, watching him do the same. The light in the kitchen was low, casting an orange glow about the room. You felt almost like you were being interrogated as Tommy tucked his cigarette between his lips for another drag. You took your drink up in turn, giving your hands something to do. Besides, finding your husband at home had harshly staunched your blissfully tipsy mood, and you were desperate to get it back. Tommy made no comment as you took a deep swig, and you fought away a wince at the taste and burned as you gulped it down greedily. 

“How was the meeting?” You asked.

“Fine…Would you like to know what it’s about?” 

“If you’d like to tell me.” 

You figured he would let it go there, but he gave a short nod, offering: “We’ve reached a trade agreement with your man in New York.” 

“I’m glad to hear it.” 

“Lewis can fill you in on the particulars later.” 

Your brows jumped. “Lewis was there?” 

“The business concerned him, I made sure he was in attendance.” 

“I’m sure he appreciated it.” 

He hummed, leaning back in his seat. You took another deep swig from your glass, but you couldn’t bring yourself to draw your gaze away from Tommy’s. He seemed so relaxed—though, maybe it was absurd to find a man relaxed simply because he had removed his suit jacket. Still, he looked irritatingly dashing in his waistcoat. 

“Tell me about yourself,” He ordered as you lowered your glass to the table. You cleared your throat, shaking your swimming head to try and clear that, too.

“Pardon me?” 

“Well,” Tommy plucked up the bottle again, topping your glass up. “As you have reminded me, you are my wife. I ought to know something about you.” 

“...Are you drunk?”

His lips quirked with a small smile. “No. But if you keep on like that, you will be.”

“I’ll be fine.” 

“If you say so.” 

“I do say so, thank you.”

“I have to be drunk to want to learn about my wife?”

My wife. It made you feel oddly warm as he said it…Though perhaps that was the whiskey. 

“We didn’t exactly have the most conventional courtship, or wedding,” You reminded him.  

“All the more reason for me to learn about you now.” 

“I don’t know where to start.” 

“How about with the things you like.” 

“I will tell you,” You nod slowly, “But only if you tell me about yourself in turn.” 

Thomas seemed to purse his lips before he sat up in his seat. He held his hand out, the gold of his wedding ring glinting in the light. 

“You have a deal.” 

You hesitated for a few moments, certain that he was putting you on. But when he didn’t draw it back, you raised your hand in turn, grasping his and giving it a shake. 

--  

The first hint of light made you wince and turn away. Your mouth was obscenely dry; your head was pounding harshly. You groaned, rolling away from the window. Oh…You did not feel good. Your head felt like it was going to burst; your stomach rolled like you were taking a rocky transatlantic crossing. Oh, god…Were you going to be sick?

You peeked an eye open, then squeezed it shut again. Oh, no. You weren’t sure which was worse, having your eyes open or keeping them closed. You hesitantly opened both eyes, then groaned more loudly, tucking your head beneath your pillow. No. Having your eyes open was definitely worse. 

You heard a harsh thudding, as if a giant has managed to get into your room. What on earth—

The pillow lifted away, and you tipped your head up into the cool brush of fingertips against your forehead. 

“How’s our Sleeping Beauty?” 

You weren’t sure what flustered you more: the teasing tone of Tommy’s voice, or the way the word beauty sounded coming out of his mouth. 

“Right as rain,” You mumbled. “Or I will be, once you stop yelling.”

His chuckle brushed your forehead. 

“Pearl is on her way to look in on you. Apparently Esme is doing just as well as you are this morning.” 

“I don’t wish this on my worst enemy.” 

“Rest up.” 

“I wasn't planning on doing anything else.” 

“Good girl.” 

Before you could ask, or argue, or throw a hand out to slap him on the shoulder, he brushed a kiss to your forehead, then drew away fully. You listened to the retreat of his footsteps, a pause, the scraping of the curtains being drawn closed, and the gentle scruuuuuuh—thump of him shutting your bedroom door behind himself. You only dared look around after a few minutes, when you were certain he was gone. You rolled onto your back, sighing and trying to ignore the thud-thud-thud behind your eyes. 

You feel like hell, but last night was sort of…Nice. 

Drinking with the girls and breaking down some of the barriers before your families had been a success, but coming home to Thomas was…New. It wasn’t unpleasant, as you would’ve previously thought. You scrubbed your hand gently across your eyes, trying to recall your conversation. You had it in bits and pieces—his love of horses, his devotion to his family, his worries for Arthur and John. You wondered if he told you those things because you’d been spifflicated that he didn’t think you’d remember a damn thing. But you remembered. 

You remembered the almost kind way that he’d smiled at you a couple of times. You remembered the way he’d taken your hand and led you up the stairs, steadying you when you’d wobbled and taken uneasy steps. You remembered him turning his back as you’d gotten undressed, waiting for you to get into bed before bidding you a goodnight. 

A knocking on the door drew you up from your recollection, and you winced at the sound. 

“Yes?” You croaked. The door opened, and to your surprise, two heads poked through. 

“You’re in a state,” Polly chuckled before Pearl opened your door the rest of the way. The two entered your room, each eyeing the furnishings that were soon to be replaced. You pushed yourself up, wincing as your head spun. 

“Had a night, did you?” Pearl settled onto the bed beside you. 

“Could you lower your voice, please,” You grumbled. 

“Did you go right to bed when you came home?” 

“I meant to.” 

“But you didn’t?” Polly chimed in. 

“No.” You winced as you raised your voice just a touch. “I…I had a conversation with my husband.” 

Polly and Pearl cast one another curious glances, so unlike the cutting looks they’d leveled at one another just a couple of days ago. 

“It was fine,” You added. “It was…” Nice? Enlightening? Something you would be happy to have again? “Cordial.” 

“Was he drinking?” Polly plied.

“We both were.” 

Polly and Pearl each hissed, chased by sympathetic tuts.

“You should’ve quit while you were ahead,” Pearl admonished. 

“I certainly know that now.” 

Polly took another look at you before she patted Pearl’s shoulder, offering, “I’ll put the kettle on.” 

“You’re a saint,” Pearl smiled. You sagged back against the headboard, scrubbing a hand over your brow as Polly disappeared.

“Since when are the two of you so friendly?” You asked. Pearl shrugged. 

“We’ve come to an understanding…As you have with your husband, apparently.” 

“I think it may be a very different kind of understanding.” 

“D’you mind if I smoke?” 

“...I don’t mean to sound harsh, but if you smoke, Pearl, I will be sick.”

“Better out than in.” 

“Please, no.” 

-- 

It wasn’t every night—it wasn’t even most nights, but you began to spend time with Thomas. It started with him coming home just as you finished dinner, and progressed to Thomas making it home just in time for dinner. Conversation wasn’t always freely flowing, and a few of those first dinners were a little quiet, and awkward. But as you spent more and more time together, those silences became more and more rare, and when conversation wilted, the quiet was comfortable. 

You still slept apart, but for the life of you, you couldn’t remember the last time you’d heard Lizzie creeping out of the house as you awoke. Maybe she’d managed to work out which floorboards didn’t creak; maybe Thomas had stopped having her in the house…Or having her at all. 

You were certain that the second possibility was the most likely. It still wasn’t the ideal situation, but you appreciated it all the same. Not only had Thomas kept his promise and been discreet, but he was taking the pains to distance you from his romantic liaisons. It was…Almost sweet, all things considered. 

--  

“...What are you reading?” 

You jolted at the question, sucking in a gasp and dropping the manuscript that had been in your hand. Thomas’ brows rose as he walked deeper into the sitting room. 

“You scared me,” You grumbled. “How long have you been here?” 

“A few minutes. I called out twice when I came in.” 

“Oh,” You frowned. “I’m sorry, I must not have heard you.” 

“Clearly.” 

He walked deeper into the room, taking up the fallen manuscript and sitting on the green velvet settee beside you. You let your gaze linger, sweeping over him. His jacket had always been removed, though his waistcoat was still intact. His cool eyes swept over the page, brow furrowing a touch as he took in the content. His head began to turn toward you, and you hurriedly stood, rounding to the bar cart. 

“Would you like a drink?” You asked. 

“Sure.” 

You plucked up the bottle of whiskey, uncapping it and pouring a good amount. You rounded back to him, holding the glass out. He crossed his legs, resting the manuscript against it before he took the drink with one hand, patting the seat beside him with the other. You lowered yourself back down hesitantly, acutely aware of the way your thighs brushed. 

“What is this?” He asked, nodding toward the pages. 

“A book that was sent to us.” 

“Topside?” 

You smiled a little. Topside was how your family had always referred to the legitimate side of your publishing operations. You were certain that you and the others had said it around Tommy and his family before, but you were surprised he remembered. 

“Yes,” You nodded. 

“D’you like it?” 

“Ah…” You considered before you blew softly between your lips. “I’ve read worse.” 

“I’m not sure if that’s an indictment or praise.” 

You chuckled. “It’s got a good frame, but the writing is unpolished. Could be good, with a little bit of work.” 

“Will you work on it yourself?” 

“I may. Need something to do with my time.” It felt like the wrong thing to say as soon as you said it—but Thomas simply hummed, turning the page as he lifted his drink to his lips. 

“Redecorating hasn’t been enough of a challenge?” He asked after a moment. 

“Well it was, but I’m nearly through. The only room in the house that I haven’t touched is yours.”

“And why is that?” His eyes slid toward you, and the sudden shock of blue made your stomach flip. You shrugged a little, shaking your head. 

“I didn’t think you’d want me to.” 

Thomas nodded before he turned back to the pages. The two of you fell into silence, and you leaned in a little, reading over his shoulder.  

“...Dinner’ll be ready soon,” You told him after a few moments. He nodded, blowing smoke out of the side of his mouth, away from you. 

“What’re we having?” 

“Roast chicken.” 

“Vegetables?” 

“Potatoes and carrots.” 

“Gravy?” 

“Of course. I’m not an animal.” 

Thomas huffed a soft laugh through his nose. He turned his head toward you a little, his lips brushing your temple. The touch made your eyes slide closed, your stomach fluttering at the sensation. You were so caught up that you nearly missed what he said next:

“We’re going to London tomorrow.” 

You frowned, glancing up toward him. “Why?” 

“I’ve a meeting.” 

“A meeting that involves me?” 

“I want you with me.” He turned his head a little more, nuzzling lightly against your hair. “Besides, it’ll be good for you to get out of the house for a bit.” 

“I get out enough.” 

“I think you could do with a bit more.” 

You hummed thoughtfully before you leaned away, patting his thigh lightly. 

“I’ll go check on the bird.” 

You only managed to get up and take a single step before Thomas caught hold of your hand. You glanced back as he raised it to his lips, brushing a tender kiss to your knuckles. The action was so small, yet so intimate that it made your breath catch in your throat. He gave your hand a squeeze before letting go of it, letting his arm drift up to rest on the settee. You turned away, hurrying toward the kitchen. 

Once you were alone, you braced your hands on the counter, drawing in a deep breath and pushing it out again. Your skin seemed to tingle where he kissed it, and you glanced down, as if you could see some discernible change. You shook your head, shaking your hand before you turned to the oven. 

Dinner, get dinner together. You could worry about Thomas’ touch and the trip to London later. 

Next Part

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