#after everything that was done to his brother. I feel like that would have just torn Lucien up inside

[slytherinslut0]

quiet reckoning. chapter one

summary: mattheo comes to visit. it’s strange, being twenty five and still seeing your childhood in his eyes.

warnings: just a ton of fucking angst. complicated, self destructive mattheo who’s finally coming to terms with how he pushed you away when you were younger simply because he couldn’t stand being second to tom in your eyes. the acceptance doesn’t make it hurt any less. get the tissues. cry with me please.

masterlist & other chapters.

Life these days holds a strange, silent kind of peace, interrupted only by the faint sound of water rushing over stone—the creek that runs quick along the forest edge. In your early summer afternoons, the trees form a leafy wall of emerald and ochre, and they sway with the breeze that brushes the hair back from your cheeks.

You sit cross-legged in the dirt, hands buried in soil as you pull vegetables out of your garden in prep for the approaching cold months. You love how earth has its own signature scent: damp, fertile, alive. Somehow it makes you think of Tom—his manor, with its towering windows overlooking manicured grounds, its own gardens sprawling wide. His manor with its grand, sweeping staircases, polished black floors.

Everything was pristine, almost oppressively so. Even the walls seemed haughty, disdainful of the cobwebs that clung to the corners.

Tom had never let you stay long enough to tend to those.

But his gardens—those had their own softness, a quiet beauty that only fully revealed itself after dusk when the moonlight cast everything in silver. I loved you there, you reminisce, and the ache has a name in memory—longing. I wish I could have loved you there longer.

And now you're here, a few years after Tom told you never to come back to him—here where the ache feels smaller, further away. Here where there’s no temptation, where the air smells of earth and moss and freedom, and the silence holds its own kind of comfort. Mattheo visits sometimes, wandering into the quiet when your absence grows too thick, when too many of his owls have gone unanswered.

"He'll visit soon." He always tells you. You start to hate how much he lies to you.

"Don't pretend," you said once, and his mouth stretched into a thin, humourless smile.

"Alright," he replied. "I won't."

So now, when he comes to visit, he doesn't say it—he just sits next to you. He doesn't talk much. Neither do you. Life here is quiet—few neighbours, even fewer visitors. A woman brings you pastries from time to time and the town grocer knows your name, but most days you pass unbothered. You tend the garden when the days are warm, work on the cottage when it's cold.

When it's raining you read books and pretend they're not the same kind Tom used to keep.

On a day in early October, Mattheo sits next to you on the porch and you hate that you notice how he doesn't look at you the same way Tom did. It's something lighter, something less cloying. Sometimes you think of how unfair it is that he can taunt you silently like this—how he can remind you of the chocolate streaks in Tom's inky hair, the depth in his dark eyes. How he can remind you that he holds all the same features as his brother, just without the weight.

As the sun sinks slowly through the trees, casting pink and orange across the sky, you turn your face to the creek, watching the water ripple over stones and rocks, and you think of how young you loved them—the way your love grew different when you weren't looking.

Mattheo was chaos, always had been. I could have helped him find himself. But that thought feels hollow, and it's always followed by another. If he would have let me.

"It's strange to think that this is your life." Mattheo speaks after a while of not. He lights a cigarette, and you reach for it when he passes it to you. "You could have done anything."

You inhale the smoke and close your eyes—thinking of how cigarettes taste like fire and ash and the last time Tom had taken your hand.

"Maybe this is all I ever wanted to be." You reply, spinning the cigarette between your fingers. "At peace."

He glances at you in the fading light—the way the sunset casts shadows in the hollows of your cheeks, makes the gold of your earrings look darker against your hair.

He frowns. "You don't look at peace."

No, you think, taking another drag. I never really have.

You pass the cigarette back to him, watching the smoke drift in the breeze. He doesn't say anything else, so you don't either.

Instead, you watch the dark start to close in, the sky turn into an endless stretch of indigo, stars winking to life somewhere above the trees. The fireflies come out eventually, when the night is quiet and heavy and the world turns a little sleepy. They flutter around in the trees and grass like faeries—like stars that've made their home on the ground—and Mattheo watches them with a furrow in his brow.

You wonder what he's thinking, then think better of it at the bitter twist of his mouth. He always thought they'd burn.

"Why do you still come here?" You question. He turns to you, and when his eyes meet yours that's when you realize you'd verbalized the thought. "To sit with me."

Mattheo shakes his head. "I'll need another smoke to answer that."

So he pulls out another cigarette and lights it. The first inhale is long, and the exhale makes you blink. You look away and pretend like his response doesn't make your stomach twist.

The stream moves a little darker in the moonlight and the pine trees shiver with a gentle breeze that smells like soil. You feel the comfort in it—in knowing that all of this has been here longer than you ever have, and that it'll be here long after you're gone.

Perhaps that's precisely what you chased. A home in something steady.

"I come to remind myself you're okay." He says after a long silence, staring at his hands. "Sometimes it feels like you're dead."

You blink again. He's more perceptive than you remember.

"I'm still here," you remind him, but he laughs without humour in it.

"Sure, you're there," he replies, before another pause. "But you're not really living."

He says the words casually, like they're a fact. You think they're meant to hurt. He's right—it's a thought that comes quietly, the way most unwanted thoughts do. You over look at the river, the fireflies, the dirt under your fingernails—you try to feel the chill in the October breeze, the soft moss under your feet. You try to be alive.

"Why do you think that?" You ask even when you know the answer.

He takes another drag of his cigarette, and then exhales—casting his hair grey when the smoke drifts over his face.

He looks older here, when the night stretches over him. It reminds you how much has changed.

"Sometimes I think you're here to punish yourself." He says, passing you the cigarette again. "You say you come here for peace, but this isn't peace like a person should have. It's just an absence. Silence, and isolation, and nothing else." You glance down at his hand resting on his knee beside you, shadows deepening in the lines of his palm. He watches you. "I wish you'd stop hating yourself for what he's become."

A lump forms in your throat—you remember Tom as a boy, the way he'd hold magic in his palms and make lights dance just to make you laugh. You remember the way he once looked at you, quietly and gently in a way that made you feel safe within crumbling walls offering cold stone decorum. You remember one of the last times at Hogwarts, once things took a turn, when he held more than just magic in his palms—when the lights danced only to burn you instead of make you laugh.

You wonder what it says about you, that you loved him in both.

"I don't hate myself, Matt." You mutter, more conviction than truth. "If I'm punishing myself at all, it's for giving him something to hurt."

He doesn't say anything for a while, so you think briefly that his silence is agreement. You and him both know that there is a lot to hurt about, when it comes to Tom.

"You didn't give him anything." He rebuttals with certainty. "He was who he was before you even knew his name."

It's easy to forget that sometimes, the way he had been all sharp edges even when you'd first met. The way he'd pulled you and his brother through crumbling, damp, narrow hallways with something far too assured for a six year old. Something that made you want to follow him forever—something that whispered; I'll never let anything hurt you.

You exhale a plume of smoke. The fireflies look like falling stars when you close your eyes.

"Sometimes, I think I made him human." You say, and immediately wish you didn't. It's a weird thought, but one that comes unbidden. "Others, I think I made him evil."

It tastes like acid the moment you say it aloud. I made him evil. You think back to all those nights in the quiet, the way you taught him how to confide in you, the way he looked at you as if you held some answer he couldn't find on his own. You remember the secrets he shared, the way he softened when no one else could see. You remember how long it took him to get there.

But you remember the darker moments, too—moments when you didn't pull away, even when you should have. Moments you whispered reassurances instead of warnings, when you offered comfort instead of caution. Maybe, in those silences, you fed a need that shouldn't have been nourished, let him believe his ambitions weren't dangerous, only misunderstood.

You wonder if, in being the one person who never condemned him, you gave him permission to be what he became.

"And me?" Mattheo turns to you. You glance at him, the hard line of his mouth and his eyes that look more black than brown in the night— "did you make me evil too?"

You're both quiet for a moment, the only sound is the stream, the only motion is the flutter of the fireflies.

"I don't believe I made you anything." You say finally, letting him take the cigarette back from you. "I suppose you only became who you wanted to be."

You think, quietly, that it's a kinder fate than the rest.

He huffs a laugh. "So you think I wanted to be an asshole."

He's joking, you think. Or he's bitter again, resentful. You're sure he wanted to be whatever Tom would accept him as—though you'd never say those words out loud.

"I think you wanted to be loved." Is what you settle on, and the words tear your throat apart as you speak them. "Just like I did."

He hums, noncommittally, and lights a third cigarette.

You wonder why you still know that he's bitter even when he's not saying the words—why you still know that he only hums that way when something hurts, or when it's a truth he can't bring himself to admit.

"You found it now, haven't you?" You fill his silence with another sentence you wish you didn't say. "You're engaged."

You watch the embers from the cigarette tip light up the hollows of his cheeks, the way it burns his eyes gold as he takes a drag on it.

"Yeah," he nods into the night. "I'm engaged."

Something selfish in you aches at that.

"Then why do you come here and look at me like you're lonely?" You try to ask it casually, but you don't think you manage it. You see him tense when he realizes how well you still read him. "What is it you're missing, Matt?"

"I don't know." He looks at you in the dark, his expression lost in the shadows of his hair. "Sometimes I think it's you."

It's an answer like a knife, because you've known all along that he feels the same way you do—that the loneliness stays and the regret never really dissipates—that the 'what-ifs' linger long after they shouldn't.

"I'm not your girl." You remind him.

It sounds empty when you say it, but he made it clear when you were younger that he wanted it this way.

"You never were."

He looks away after that, to the stream, and you wonder if it has ever felt hollow like this.

All the lights seem very small suddenly, the moon, the stars—you're not sure where his vulnerability is coming from, all these years in passing. You assume it’s the old saying—absence makes the heart grow fonder.

"But you wanted me to be." It's more of a question.

"For a time, when we were kids." He gives you honesty that surprises you. "Sometimes I think I still do."

Why?—you want to ask, suddenly, desperately—and wonder at the cruelty of the thought. Asking that would be the worst kind of question. Why do you want me?

You think you know all the answers already. They sit bitter at the back of your throat.

"So that's why you come here." You say instead, shivering with the wind that brushes over you. "To remind yourself of all the reasons you still feel empty."

There's a dark sort of humour to the sound he lets out, one that makes your chest ache. He turns to you again, and his hands shake when he lifts the cigarette.

"It's not you that makes me feel empty, princess." He whispers. "It's the absence of you."

You look at him, then—really look. There's something strange about being twenty five and still seeing your childhood in his eyes. Despite the nickname, he’s not joking. It’s the kind of confession that tastes like a fist, like a punch that breaks bones.

I know, you think. I wish it could have been different for us.

"You need to stop coming here." There's no spine in those words. They're putty between you. "Just like Tom told me to stop, I'm now telling you."

He's quiet, watching you as the embers of the cigarette flicker over his fingers.

"I'll stop," he pauses, and you see the pain in his throat as he swallows. "When he finally comes to you."

That, you think, will probably never happen.

"So you'll come here forever." You say, and his mouth twists in a silent, bitter smile.

"I guess I will."

You don't have a response to that. It's not a choice he makes so much as it is his reality, and you, of all people, could never fault him for that.

So instead of words, you lean to rest your head on his shoulder, same way you did when you were kids. You sit together, watching the moon and stars and the stream and the trees and everything else around you that reminds you you're alive, even if you don't feel it. You think of his fiancé, you know she'd never understand. This is childhood love in its most vulnerable form—and you thank him for it, silently, for reminding you that you're not alone. Even if you're sure you are.

He leans his head sideways, on top of yours—a gesture almost automatic.

"I still think of you in the summer." He mutters into your hair. You close your eyes and remember the sun, the way it once felt like it touched your bones. "The summer when we were nine. Swimming in the river at night. Those stupid bugs that I thought were made of fire." He pauses for a minute, looking around, and you think he's done talking, until he isn't. "I suppose I do understand why you chose this life."

You remember that summer, too. Small children swimming in a river that was all silver shadows under the moonlight, chasing fireflies like stars. No parents to call you home, no rules except the ones of your own.

Somehow, that's not your favourite memory of him.

"And I think of you in the fall." You say, listening to your own voice sounding distant. "The year just before Hogwarts. When the leaves turned red and orange and gold. When you raked them into a pile for us to jump in."

He hums. "I tried to kiss you that fall."

"And Tom fought you for it."

"And he won." Mattheo's voice sounds distant too, almost lost. "He always won."

It's strange, thinking of autumn when you think of Mattheo, but it fits—he's just as fleeting. Beautiful, easy to fall into, but always gone too soon, leaving a chill in his place.

"Sometimes I think it's because he knew he could." You build off his thoughts. "And sometimes I think it's because he just wanted to prove it."

He shrugs. "Either way, I still lost."

It's such a mournful way to reminisce, you think, for the children you used to be.

"And what now?" You ask.

He exhales slowly, and the smoke looks like a mist in front of you. "I suppose now we both lose."

And that, is the most honest thing he's said all night.

You turn your face into his shoulder, the way you had when you were younger. You close your eyes, and for a moment you imagine being a child again—back in the days when love was simple and nights were endless. Back to a time when you didn't know things you should and all you had were each other's shoulders to lean on in an orphanage dirtier than the forest before you.

"We lose together, then." You offer, a half-whisper.

"Yeah," he answers, just as quiet, just as lost. "We lose together."

There's a bitter kind of contentment in that, you think. You're sure that's a terrible thing.

You take a few moments to brace yourself for the shift in conversation, and then—

"How is he?"

"He's fine." Mattheo understands what you aren't asking. "The leader he always wanted to be."

You close your eyes again and hear the stream running steady, moving around rocks that have been shaped by years of its presence. You ignore the ache in your chest.

"He's happy?"

You don't have to open your eyes to know that Mattheo smiles bitterly. "He's as happy as someone like Tom could be."

There are several beats of silence, the kind that holds too many unsaid things. You feel it in Mattheos exhale that there's something he isn't saying. You don't press him on it. You sit together like this for a while under the sky—watching the way the dark clouds move, the stars shift.

You think about childhoods that never last. About fireflies and streams and boys you loved.

"Tell me something true." You murmur as the midnight grog sets in. "Tell me something that'll warm me through winter."

Mattheo pauses, silent, and for a moment you think he's not going to answer.

"I've loved you most of my life." He mutters finally, into the top of your head. The words feel like a breath of summer, in a quiet, dark night. "That's the kind of truth that could melt an iceberg."

It's the sort of declaration you could only share in the cover of the night, in the silence of a forest. Not the sort of admission that would ever survive daylight. I've loved you most of mine, too.

"And a lie?" You reply.

His fingertips run through his hair, almost idly. You suppose he's looking back into memories of fleeting autumn's and summer sun, the time he tried to kiss you and the day he pushed you away. He doesn't answer the question for a while. You wonder if he doesn't have an answer, or if he just doesn't want to say it.

And then, finally, quietly— "I'm happy for him."

You close your eyes again. That, you think, is the cold truth of winter.

You turn your face again into his shoulder for a second time tonight, but you keep your eyes open. You can feel the weight of your childhood on your shoulders, the trees and the creek behind you, and the silence that follows his lie.

Suddenly, you're furious—a fire tearing through regret. You wish Mattheo hadn't chosen booze, fights, and empty escapes. You wish he'd let you love him properly before pushing you away. You wish he hadn't always resented Tom—hadn't always felt second best in a way no amount of reassurance could fix. Yet somehow, you just can't fault him for any of it.

He's always known you loved Tom first; he's carried that like a wound.

"Ask me to lie to you." You say as you swallow your anger.

There's an exhale. You're sure Mattheo's watching the trees, the wind as it runs quietly past.

"Lie to me."

You tilt your head up to the sky. You try to remember that fall, you try to feel what it was like to be a child again, and to believe in a future that wasn't shaped by the past. You think of his fiancé.

"I'm happy for you." You whisper.

From the corner of your eye, you know he smiles bitterly again, but he responds with nothing more than his unsteady breathing. You're both silent like this for the rest of his stay, together under the moon that's watched you both change.

"I'll be back in a month," he mutters, just loud enough for you to hear as time stretches thin.

He has to go before the sun rises, before dawn coaxes him into staying. You consider, if only for the flicker of a second, letting him.

"I'll see you then." You lean back and look up into his eyes, searching into the gold buried deep. If you look too long, you think you may see his broken heart. You make yourself smile anyway. "Write to me."

"Even if you don't write back." He replies with a nod.

The cold air makes your eyes water. For a moment he's still, like he may pull you into him and drown you in all the things he feels. Instead, he puts a cigarette into his mouth, lighting it with one of his hands. The lighter casts an orange glow over his face that makes him look pale and tired again, like the boy you'd met in an orphanage that was so much dirtier than the forest before you.

"Good night." He murmurs, and you feel his thumb brush your cheek before he apparates back to the life you left behind.

And now, alone under the black sky, you take a deep breath. Then, you exhale, go back into your cabin and you try not to think about all the things you've lost.

You try not to think of the boy you've loved for far too large a part of your life and how it changed the boy who's loved you for far too large a part of his. You try instead to focus on what you have—walls and peace and solitude, something certain that won't disappear when it rains.

[cityofmeliora]

the Terzo autism post ♾️

this is kind of an analysis post and kind of a headcanon post.

Terzo reads as autistic to me, especially during his first two concerts when he was speaking without a script and trying to figure things out.

Terzo has that "trying new things is scary and i need to feel like i'm getting a good grade at social interactions and everything has to be done correctly or i'm going to explode" flavor of autism.

[AFTER PERFORMING PRIME MOVER] PAPA EMERITUS III: How am I doing so far? I've been studying these moves so you would feel comfortable. Are you comfortable? Linköping, Sweden (June 3, 2015)

Terzo says he studied the choreography for 'Prime Mover' so the audience would feel comfortable. he's trying to do what people expect, and he keeps checking if he's doing alright and asking the audience if they like what he's doing.

[BEFORE PERFORMING ABSOLUTION] PAPA EMERITUS III: So, we're gonna finish this off with something as weird as a new song. What that delighting, or did you not like that? Yes. Good, good. Linköping, Sweden (June 3, 2015)

PAPA EMERITUS III: So, I know it might seem a little confusing –it's even a little confusing to me, sometimes– y'know, playing new songs for people who've never heard these songs. But I tell you what– we have a really good ending song that you will understand why it is an ending song when you hear it. But now it might seem a bit strange, huh? Sweden Rock Festival - Solvesborg, Sweden (June 4, 2015)

Terzo feels weird about performing new music because it's new and the audience doesn't know what to expect and neither does he. he keeps trying to assure the audience that it'll be okay. but i'm pretty sure he was the only person worried about it. he was about to release a new album, so it completely made sense that he would be performing new songs. he just hates not knowing what to expect, and it doesn't occur to him that not everyone thinks like him.

and then this clip... i think it speaks for itself, but let's talk about it anyway. (i included the audio because i really want people to hear him speaking here.)

PAPA EMERITUS III: Okay! We are now officially wrapping– with a song. It's not a rap song, though. [STUTTERS FOR SEVERAL SECONDS] I've heard from my brother that you are somewhat of a singing crowd. So you like singing, eh? That is fantastic because that is exactly what we're gonna do right now, and if you had said no, that would have been… weird. So thank you for not being weird and weirding me out. I'm weird enough as it is. Sweden Rock Festival - Solvesborg, Sweden (June 4, 2015)

like where do i even start with this. him thinking he needs to clarify he's not going to be rapping. the stuttering. the fact that he listens to what Secondo tells him so he knows what to expect. him saying "[...] if you had said no, that would have been... weird. So thank you for not being weird and weirding me out. I'm weird enough as it is."

he feels like a weirdo and he just wants things to be normal so bad. 😭

he also gets really irritated when people are incorrect / do things incorrectly. he has the literal / rigid thinking patterns characteristic of autistic people

PAPA EMERITUS III: Well, it's getting late. AUDIENCE: NOOO! PAPA EMERITUS III: Yes! It's not a matter of opinion. It is getting late. Sweden Rock Festival - Solvesborg, Sweden (June 4, 2015)

he tells the audience it is objectively true that it is getting late.

then there's the whole bit where he wants people to clap along to the music but he hates it if people clap wrong or don't clap with the correct rhythm.

and the bit where he asks the audience to say "Meliora" and emphasizes the correct pronunciation versus the incorrect pronunciation.

Terzo strikes me as someone who is constantly trying to perform a very intentionally constructed social personality, not only as an entertainer but as a person. and while he's naturally charismatic and charming, it's actually quite difficult for him to perform this public personality because he's constantly concerned with getting a good grade in social interactions and things being done correctly.

and there are all the quotes about Terzo being a recluse who only interacts with others as much as is strictly necessary. this is definitely clinical depression, but i think his autism is also a factor.

he got comfortable once he settled into a routine and created a script that he could repeat, though. after that, he was really on autopilot during his concerts. which is also so so autistic of him <3

[hoodielord]

Grim and Hood

Nightwing 

Gotham Bay Monday 9pm

 Dick didn't know  about Jason's gang or much about his crime lord work in general. But now is a better time than later to learn. Jason had been watching a shipment of chemicals that scarecrow had supposedly ordered. But another issue had come up where Jason was needed. So Jason sent some members of his gang to help with the shipment.This just so happened to include Jason's second in command. 

Dick wasn't expecting this. Jason's second in command was around Jason’s age. He’s a head shorter than Jason.They are lanky though and pale. They wore a skelton mask that covered the lower half of his face. They moved like Cass or Duke; clung to the shadows and moved silently most of the time. It was surprising given their white hair. When it was time to move into fighting they were brutal, not deadly, but enough to break a few bones and incapacitate men twice as built as they were. Everything about them screamed meta.

 This skeleton was definitely a meta of some sort. Quickly they climbed into the rafters of the warehouse. Green eyes glowed as they swept through the warehouse. They were hunting for something. Skeleton’s eyes snapped to a man running for the exit. 

Like a whip they zipped through the rafters and descended on the man. The man shrieked in surprise and swung. But his arm never hit them. No, their arm went through them like he wasn't there. The man freaked blindly and swung at him screaming.

“What are you?!”

The skeleton mask’s fist slammed into the man’s face and the man crumbled. Skeleton dug through the man’s pockets and pulled out a glowing green vial.   

After the fighting was done and the shipment was secured Hood arrived. 

“ Hey Wing.”

“Hey Hood. So who's that?” pointing to them as they worked on helping the injured and tieing up the goons.

“That’s Grim, he does most of the work when I'm not around.”

“ Hey boss, everything's secure!” One of the gang members calls.

“ Good. Okay Sam and Ralph will make sure the shipment is handed off. Bill makes sure these idiots are hauled away by the cops. The rest of you can pack it in for tonight.”

The rest of the gang moves out or to their posts. Except Grim who walks up to Hood.

 “ Hey Grim, you good?”

Grin nods and hands Hood the vial.

“This is probably the new prototype the demented sock puppet was working on.” Their voice had an echo but maybe more like many different voices were speaking as one. 

Hood let out a chuckle at Grim’s remark.

“I’ve never heard that one before.”

Despite, the mask you could tell Grim was smiling but his expression faltered and he wavered.

He mumbles something about overtime and then proceeds to face plant right into Hood's chest.

“Is he alright?”

Hood sighs “ Yeah, he should be alright. He just fell asleep.” Hood mumbles something about bribes and revenge.

“Do I wanna know what you’re planning?”

“Not unless you want the same thing to happen to you,” Hood says as he picks Grim up and throws him over his shoulder.

“See you later, Wing,” Hood said before calling the gang for a car.

----

After a few rings, she picked up.

“Hey, Spoiler.”

“What’s up Hood?”

“If I make you waffles tomorrow would you help me get revenge on RR?”

“Hell yeah! Wait. What kind of revenge?”

“I am thinking more of your kind of revenge.” 

“Deal!”

“Awesome, so here is the plan.” 

----

Tuesday 1am, Jason’s apartment

“Hey, your coworkers said you have the rest of the week off,” Jason said from the kitchen.

“Cool…your brother needed to chill with the overtime. I feel like I did in high school dealing with ghosts.” Danny mumbled from the couch in the living room.

“Yeah, I already have that covered.”

“What do you mean?” 

Jason didn’t answer.

“Jason, what are you going to do to your brother?”

“Nothing too bad.”

“Jason.”

“It’s fine, get some more sleep.”

A few seconds pass and then there is a crash in the living room.

“Get back here, intruder!”

“You're literally the one that crawled through the window!”

Jason recognizes that voice and rushes to the living room.“If you don’t stop right now I am not helping clean the barn this weekend!”

Danny was standing on the couch with a crystal blue sword in hand  as Damian looked ready to strike but stopped midswing.

“You promised to help! You dare break your promise! And explain, who is this harlot?”

“Who is this kid and why does he speak like he’s from a period drama?....The fuck is a harlot?” Danny said, still holding tight to his sword ready to block the swing.

Jason sighs,”Demon brat, this is Danny. Danny, this is Demon brat.”

“tt.That explains nothing.”

“Zero net gain of info there, Jay.”

Both of them ease slightly in their stances.

“Demon Brat, why are you here? B do something stupid again?”

“Oh. this is your other little brother.”

Danny released his grip on his sword and it began to dissolve into nothing. At this Damian tightened his grip on his sword.

“ Damian, he’s my friend.”

“Fine…It was Grayson. He was too stifling after tonight." Damian put his short sword away. Jason and Daiman walk into the kitchen as Danny slumps back into the couch.

“Let me guess you got injured?”

“I only required three stitches. He is overreacting.”

“Fine. I got tea. You can only stay for an hour though. Don’t need all the bats to show up on my balcony.”

“That is acceptable ... .You're expecting someone else?”

“Steph is helping me with something…. You’ll see later.” Jason said with a grin.

-----

Noon, Wayne Manor. Dick

Dick was at the manor because he was preparing to cover for Bruce as Batman when he was off-world dealing with a Justice League issue.  

The door into the dining room swung open violently followed by Tim marching in covered in neon green glitter. There was so much glitter that it trailed behind him. 

“ You look like you’re trying to cosplay the riddler. Did Steph do that?” 

Tim just grumbled and held up a light purple sticky note. 

‘Yep, definitely Steph.’ Dick thought, grabbing the note.

 The note read: ‘Jason said you gave your R&D department too harsh a deadline for a project and they had to work double overtime on it. So you get a glitter bomb! 😛 P.S. No, I am not helping you clean it. Yes I got bribed. No, I am not helping you get him back.’

“Why would Jason care about your R&D department? Also double overtime? That's harsh.”

“One of his friends is a part of it.  And I wouldn’t have had to do that if the client wasn’t a total ass about it…Maybe I should send them a glitter bomb….. Anyway, I gave the department the rest of the week off.” Tim mumbles as he rests his head in his arms on the table. 

“First of all , I think the glitter bomb is a bad idea. Secondly, Jason has a friend working at W.E.?”

“Yeah, one of the top engineers. His name is Danny ... .Never introduce him to Steph. I will never see the end of the glitter or worse.”

“That bad, huh?”

“Yeah. He found out someone was stealing his pens. He replaced the ink in them so that the thief was writing in glitter gel ink on official forms. Then there was the time he set up a code on another engineer's computer that would randomly call him an idiot.”

“ What did he do to deserve that?”

“Used and misplaced Danny’s socket set.”

Dick laughed. “Well it’s nice that Jason has another friend.” Dick paused after a moment and said, “We should never introduce him to Roy either.” 

“Oh God, no.”

Thinking about it now Danny was probably Grim. But Tim didn’t need to know that now but knowing him he probably already did.

“You should probably go change.Alfred not going to be happy to see all the glitter too.”

“He should make Jason and Steph clean it.” Tim groaned.

At this time Damian walked into the dining hall and stopped to state at Tim with a knowing grin.

“Gremlin, did you help Steph and Jason with this?”

“No, I would not stoop to that level. Todd had mentioned he and Brown were working on something together.”

Noon same day, Jason’s apartment, Steph

Steph was always up to pranking Tim, well anyone in the Batfamily except Alfred really, but she wanted to know why Jason was defending the R&D department with this revenge thing. So after the prank was pulled she swung by Jason’s apartment.

She climbed into the living room through the fire escape window.

“Hey, I was promised waffles!”

Someone sat up on the couch with wide blue eyes staring at Steph. A mess of black hair flopped in different directions. They have an iron grip on the back of the couch. They're lanky and thin, practically swimming in a 3xl t-shirt. That’s not Jason.

“Nobody I know uses the goddamn door!” Jason yells stomping into the living room. 

Danny and Steph point at each other and turn to Jason.

“Steph, this is my friend Danny. Danny this Steph. Who I am going to personally show the definition of defenestration.”

“Hey you’re the one that promised waffles. And here I helped you with your revenge.” Steph  defended herself.

“Revenge? Waffles? Waffles sound good. Revenge is best cold though or something like that. Waffles not so much. ” Danny said half asleep and then promptly fell back asleep.

“Is he alright?” Steph said, leaning over the couch to see if he was.

Jason sighs “He hasn’t had enough sleep in this past week. Come on, I'll make you your waffles.”

In the kitchen Jason gets to work making Steph her waffles. After a few moments she asks “soooo…is he the reason that you had me glitter bomb Tim’s office?”

“Yep. Last week Danny was helping me with tracking the shipment of Scarecrow's fear toxin that we took care of last night.”

“Danny knows you’re Hood?”

“Yeah, I met him as Jason first then as Hood, he works with the gang.”

“Does Tim know?”

“I mean its a matter of time. Anyway, this week Tim had the R&D department, where Danny works, do more overtime to finish this project hence the glitter bomb.”

“You are the only nerd I know that would use the word hence…. I would never call Alfred a nerd.”

“Understandable but if you call me a nerd again I am burning your waffles.”

“Nooo!”

“Hey how come Danny looked like he was about to run when I yelled?”

“That’s because the gremlin decided to stop by earlier and then proceed to try and hunt Danny for sport.” Jason said, placing the first plate of waffles in front of her.

“Ha, yeah that explains it.” Steph said, taking a bite of her well earned waffles. 

“Soooo want to tell me why he's wearing your t-shirt?”

“No”

Two days later, Gotham bay, Roy

Jason had asked for some help with some experimental tech he was working with. He wasn't expecting to find a new buddy to talk shop with.

Arriving at the warehouse he spots Hood waiting for him by the door.

“Hey Roy.”

“Hey Jaybird, so what’s the tech you wanted to show me?”

“It’s inside, a member of the gang is looking...” 

Hood was cut off by a small explosion from inside the warehouse. Hood and Roy burst into the warehouse. Smoke curls through the air as they rush in.

“Grim! Where are you? Grim!” Hood calls as he moves through the crates and boxes.

“Damn it! Where are you? Danny!” Hood was panicking; it wasn't like him. Who was this Danny person?

There’s a fire up ahead with smoke curling up to the roof. A few shouts from different gang members rush to find the fire extinguishers. Like a bullet, one of the members with snow white hair dressed in all black, rushed forward. They seemed to blast the fire with a wave of ice as other members came in with fire extinguishers. 

“Grim!”  Hood yelled as the one dressed in black seemed to stagger after the fire was out.

Hood rushed forward grabbing them by the shoulders and steadying them.

“Hey Grim. You there?” 

“Hood?” his voice was quiet.

“Yeah it’s me. You okay?”

“Yeah I'm okay.” he still didn’t sound all there.

“Why don't you sit for a bit.”

“Yeah..”

“Okay I’ll be checking everyone else okay?”

Hood helped Grim to one of the crates to sit. Hood and Roy walk away as Grim calms down.

“Jaybird, is he alright?”

Hood sighs “He will be… explosions at close distance send him off sometimes.”

“Bill!”

“Yeah, Boss?” 

“What happened?”

“Grim was working on the device when he just froze suddenly and freaked out, getting everyone away from it. Then it exploded. Nobody’s hurt. How’s he?”

“ He’s calming down now.”

-----

Hood and Roy looked over the wreckage.

“Well I don’t think we are going to get anything from this Jaybird.”

“The device had a secondary trigger.” a voice came from behind Roy.

“Jesus fuck!”

Grim jumped back a little at Roy’s outburst. Hood just laughed at them both.

“Are you sure you’re not a new Bat or something?”

“No. Why would I dress as a bat furry?” Even with the skeleton mask you could tell he had a smirk across his face.

Hood started laughing harder and Roy laughed too.

“I’m Arsenal.” Roy stuck his hand out to Grim.

“Grim.” They said, shaking his hand.

“Grim works as the gang’s second in command. He’s also the tech expert on hand. And this is Arsenal who’s okay with tech.”

“Jaybird I am better than okay.”

“I once saw you jam an arrow into a computer that you couldn’t hack.”

“I didn't have enough time! Plus it worked didn’t it?” Arsenal 

“I mean whatever works.” Grim shrugged.

“See Jaybird he gets it,” Roy turns to Grim “Hey wanna hear about the high powered flamethrower I made?”

“Hell yeah. I made a laser gun out of a microwave once.”

“I am now regretting letting you two meet.”

“Too late!” Grim and Roy exclaimed. Grim’s eyes lit up, literally they were glowing green. 

Hood sighs “Okay but let’s work on the problem at hand first.” he then turns back to Grim, “Also if you ever work together on something I’m telling your sister.”

“Spoilsport.” Grim huffed.

They went to work on the remains of the bomb looking over the components.

“Are you doing okay Grim?”

Grim hummed at his question. “Yeah… this is just my luck huh? I got a week of overtime and almost blew up…”

“But you didn’t. You saved them before it could hurt you or anybody.”

------

[eu-nicola]

worse than silence

summary: Rafe and you maintain a secret relationship, but one day JJ discovers the truth and things get complicated

warnings: angst maybe

word counter: 3537

author's note: english is not my first language

tag: @tracymbcm

It was on nights like these that everything seemed easier and at the same time unbearably difficult. You were sitting on a cliff, hugging your legs as you looked out at the horizon. You had arrived early, as always. Rafe had told you he would come, but you knew that lately his promises were as fragile as glass.

The sound of staggering footsteps behind you brought you out of your thoughts. You turned your head and there he was, with his shirt wrinkled, his eyes sunken and an air of exhaustion that broke your soul.

“You arrived,” you said softly, although the lump in your throat threatened to betray you.

Rafe dropped down next to you, not looking at you. He ran his hands through his hair and exhaled loudly. He smelled of alcohol, of a lost night, of smoke and chaos. Your heart contracted. You had lost count of how many times you had witnessed that version of him: broken, self-destructive, and yet still trying to maintain an emotional distance that hurt you more than any words.

“I don’t know why you keep doing this,” he murmured at last, his voice cracking. “You shouldn’t be here.”

You stared at him intently, searching his eyes for something, anything to tell you there was still hope. But all you found was a haunting emptiness.

“I’m here because I love you, Rafe. Because I can’t watch you destroy yourself like this.”

He laughed bitterly, but the laughter faded quickly, leaving him only the weight of guilt.

“You don’t know what you’re saying. I don’t want to drag you down with me.”

“I don’t care, Rafe. I want to help you, but you have to let me in. You have to stop pushing me away.”

For a moment, his eyes seemed to soften. But like a blink, the hardness returned.

“You don’t understand, you’ll never understand. This… this isn’t fixed with love or pretty words. It’s bigger than that, bigger than us.”

You felt torn apart. He wanted you to leave him, but every fiber of your being refused. He wanted to protect you, but he didn’t realize that the distance hurt more than any hell he could drag you into.

The silence stretched on until he stood up abruptly, his hands shaking.

“This is a mistake,” he muttered, almost to himself, as he began to walk away.

“Is that all?” you yelled at him, standing up with your heart racing. “Are you going to keep running away? From me? From yourself?”

Rafe stopped, but didn’t turn around. He just shook his head before disappearing into the darkness. The cold of the night embraced you as tears fell freely down your face.

The next day, the tension in the air was palpable. JJ was in a bad mood, as he usually was lately. You had tried to avoid him since you got home that morning, but you knew you couldn't hide forever.

You were in the kitchen when you heard him walk in, slamming his backpack down on the table with force.

“Where were you last night?” he asked immediately, not even bothering to soften his tone.

“None of your business, JJ,” you replied, trying to remain calm as you washed the dishes. But you knew your brother wasn’t one to let things go.

“Oh no? Because I happened to see something very interesting last night,” he said, moving dangerously closer. “I saw you with him.”

The plate you were holding nearly dropped. You froze, unable to come up with an answer.

“How long? How long have you been seeing that piece of trash?” he snapped, his voice filled with disbelief and fury.

“JJ, it’s not what you think…” you tried to explain, but he cut you off immediately.

“It’s not what I think?!” he yelled, slamming the table. “Rafe Cameron.” How could you? After everything he’s done to us, after everything he’s done to this family!

“It’s not that simple!” you shouted back, feeling rage mix with despair. “You don’t understand what he’s going through. I… I love him, JJ.”

That confession seemed to hit him harder than anything else. He stood still, as if the words had paralyzed him.

“You love him?” you whispered, incredulous. “Do you really think someone like him can change? That he won’t break you like he’s done to everyone else?”

“He’s trying…” but your voice cracked. Not even you were sure of that at the moment.

JJ shook his head, his eyes filled with disappointment.

“I thought we could trust each other. But this… this is a betrayal. I can’t believe you lied to me all this time.”

You felt like the ground beneath your feet had fallen apart. You wanted to reach out to him, to explain, to beg him to understand. But JJ took a step back, his gaze colder than ever. 

“I hope it’s worth it,” he said before walking out of the house, leaving you alone in devastating silence. 

Guilt and anguish clung to you like an unbearable weight. For the first time, you wondered if you could really go through with all of this. Rafe was falling apart, and now, you were losing your brother, too. 

The next few days were a silent hell. You tried to talk to JJ more times than you could count, but every time you reached out, he ignored you completely. It was like you had ceased to exist for him. The first time you tried to stop him, you were faced with a wall of ice.

“JJ, please, just listen to me,” you said, blocking his way at the door.

He didn’t even look at you. With a sharp movement, he pushed you aside and walked out without saying a word. That gesture, cold and distant, hurt more than you had imagined.

And it wasn’t just JJ. The worst came when the rest of the group found out.

One afternoon, you were at the beach bar where everyone used to meet. You had arrived hoping that, at least there, you could find a way to repair what had been broken. However, when you entered, you felt the air become heavy. Kiara, Pope, and John B were sitting around a table, talking in low voices. Upon seeing you, the conversations immediately ceased, and their gazes were fixed on you with a mixture of disbelief and disappointment.

“Really?” Kiara was the first to speak, her tone full of reproach. “Rafe? How could you?”

You felt trapped, like you were being judged with no chance to defend yourself.

“Kie, you don’t understand…” you tried to explain, but Pope interrupted you.

“What’s there to understand?” he said bitterly. “That guy has done everything to ruin us. He’s beaten us, tried to bring us down more times than I can count. And you…? Are you with him?”

John B didn’t say anything at first, but the tension in his jaw was evident. Finally, he spoke, his voice calmer but no less laden with disappointment.

“We knew you were hiding something. But this…” he shook his head. “I never thought you’d betray us like this.”

The word “betrayal” hit like a punch. You felt tears forming in your eyes, but you refused to let them fall in front of them.

“It’s not what they think,” you said, even though you knew your words rang hollow. “Rafe… he’s not perfect, I know.” But he’s going through something, and I… I just want to help him.

Kiara laughed humorlessly, crossing her arms.

“Help him? Do you really think you can save someone like him? Rafe doesn’t need your help. What he needs is to stop butting into our lives.”

“This is between Rafe and me,” you replied, trying to remain calm. “It has nothing to do with you.”

“Nothing to do with us?” Pope raised his voice, clearly frustrated. “It has everything to do with us. He’s hurt us time and time again, and you… you chose to be on his side.”

The silence that followed was overwhelming. You felt like everything you’d built with them was crumbling at that moment. You tried to look at JJ, searching for a trace of understanding, but he was standing in the corner, arms crossed and staring at the floor, not even deigning to look at you.

“JJ…” you said softly, almost pleading.

But he turned and walked out of the place without saying a word. It was like every step he took took a piece of your heart with him.

That night, the loneliness was unbearable. You locked yourself in your room, feeling small, broken. Guilt and anguish consumed you, and the silence grew heavier with each passing minute. You had lost your brother, your friends. And even though you loved Rafe, you couldn’t ignore that being with him was costing you everything.

Hours later, you received a text. It was from Rafe.

“I’m sorry. I know this is my fault.”

You stared at the text for several minutes, not knowing what to answer. Was it his fault? Or was it yours for letting yourself get dragged here? You had no answers, only a void that seemed to grow with each second.

Finally, you turned off your phone and sank into bed. The tears you had held back all day began to fall silently. You didn't know how much more you could take.

Your friends had been your refuge, your family, but now, with them away, you felt like a foreigner in your own world. Every time you locked eyes with JJ or the others, you felt the weight of their judgment. You tried to ignore it, to focus on the only thing that kept you afloat: Rafe. However, even he seemed more distant, as if the current of his own demons was dragging him further away from you.

It had been days since you last saw him, and desperation was beginning to settle in your chest. Finally, when you couldn't take it anymore, you made the decision to look for him at his house. You knew it was a risk, that if they saw you there it would only make things worse with your friends, but you didn't care. You needed to see him. You needed to know that you weren't completely alone.

When you arrived, the Cameron mansion was completely silent. You knocked loudly on the door, hoping someone would answer, but there was no answer. So, you made your way to the side of the house, where you knew you could climb up to his window. It was something you had done before, on those nights where the world seemed to belong only to the two of you.

You peeked over the edge and saw him. Rafe was sitting on the floor of his room, his back against the bed, a half-empty bottle in one hand and his gaze lost on the wall. His messy hair fell over his forehead, and his expression was that of someone who had been fighting his own thoughts and losing the battle.

“Rafe…” you whispered, stepping in carefully.

He looked up slowly, his eyes red and filled with a pain you recognized all too well. For a moment, he seemed relieved to see you, but that glint quickly faded.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, his voice hoarse and heavy with exhaustion.

“I couldn’t be alone,” you admitted, moving closer to him. You sat down next to him, trying to ignore the smell of alcohol and the feeling that something was falling apart between you.

Rafe let out a bitter laugh.

“Alone? I thought I was the reason you were left without anyone.”

His words were a dart straight to your heart, but you didn’t back down.

“I don’t care. I don’t care if I’m alone as long as I have you.”

He shook his head, as if he couldn’t understand what you were saying.

“You shouldn’t be here. You shouldn’t want this, want me. I’m a mess. I’m screwed. Don’t you see that?”

“I see it, Rafe. But I also know that you can get out of this. You don’t have to do it alone.”

“What if I don’t want to get out?” His voice cracked, his eyes searching yours desperately. “What if this is the only thing I know how to do?”

Your heart broke a little more.

“Then I’ll stay with you until you want me. But don’t push me away, please.”

Rafe let his head fall back against the bed, squeezing his eyes shut. For a moment, silence was the only thing between you, but then he spoke, his voice barely a whisper.

“Sometimes I think it would be better if I let myself sink completely. If I just… disappeared.”

The rawness of his words took your breath away. You gripped his hand tightly, forcing him to look at you.

“Don’t say that. You can’t say that.”

“Why not?” he replied, his eyes filling with tears. “Look what I’m doing to you. You’re losing everything because of me.”

You shook your head, clinging to him as if by doing so you could keep him from falling apart completely.

“Rafe, I chose this. I chose you. I know it’s hard, but you have to believe me when I say that I don’t care what anyone else thinks. All I want is for us to be together.”

“And that’s the problem,” he whispered, looking away. “Being with me is only going to destroy you.”

You tried to respond, but he let go of your hand and staggered to his feet. He walked over to the window, looking outside as if searching for a way out that didn’t exist.

“Maybe it’s best that this ends here,” he finally said, his voice laced with heartbreaking sadness.

You stood up quickly, your chest tight with fear.

“What? You mean…?”

Rafe turned to you, his eyes filled with pain.

“I can’t keep doing this. I love you, but I can’t drag you down with me anymore.”

“Rafe, no…” your voice cracked as you moved closer to him, your hands shaking. “You can’t do this. You can’t push me away.”

He closed his eyes, fighting the emotions that consumed him.

“I’m doing this because I love you,” he finally said, and those words were like a dagger.

Tears began to fall freely down your face. You tried to cling to him once more, but this time, Rafe backed away.

“Please go away,” he whispered, not looking at you.

The weight of his words fell on you like a stone. You couldn't believe what was happening, you didn't want to accept it. But the determination in his voice left you with no options.

Heartbroken, you took a step back. Every fiber of your being wanted to stay, to fight, but you knew he was in too dark a place for you to reach him at that moment.

Finally, you turned and walked out the same window you had entered through, feeling like you were leaving a part of yourself behind. When you hit the ground, a cold breeze greeted you, as if the world knew you had lost something irreplaceable.

As you walked back home, the pain and despair fully set in. You had lost so much, and now, even Rafe seemed out of your reach.

The days that followed were an endless emptiness. Loneliness was a weight you felt even in the air, in every corner of the house, in every silence that stretched like a lingering shadow. You woke up every morning with a knot in your chest, the kind of weight that reminded you, even before you opened your eyes, that you were alone.

Your brother, he made no effort to hide his contempt. Every time you crossed paths with him, his cold gaze was a reminder that, to him, you had betrayed everything that it meant to be family. You tried several times to get closer, to talk to him, but your attempts always met with a wall of silence or curt responses.

“JJ, please, we can’t go on like this,” you begged one night, finding him in the kitchen as he poured a glass of water.

He didn’t even deign to look at you.

“I have nothing to say to you.”

“Nothing? After all?” Your voice trembled, the weight of his indifference tearing at you.

Finally, JJ turned to you, his gaze filled with a mix of anger and pain.

“After all, you chose Rafe. That says it all.”

The glass in his hand shook slightly before he set it down on the counter with a thud. He walked away without waiting for an answer, leaving you alone in the darkness.

Your friends were no more understanding, either. Every time you saw them around the island, their gazes avoided yours, as if you were someone they no longer recognized. You had lost their trust, and it seemed like there was no way to get it back.

You tried to approach Kiara one afternoon. She was on the beach with John B and Pope, laughing at something one of them had said. Seeing you, the smiles faded, and the atmosphere instantly tensed.

“Kie, can we talk?” you asked cautiously, keeping your distance.

She crossed her arms and looked at you coldly.

“I have nothing to say to you.”

“Please, just a minute…”

Kiara sighed, her expression hardening.

“For what? For you to tell me that all of this is worth it because you ���love Rafe”? I don’t want to hear it.”

“It’s not like that…” you tried to explain, but she cut you off.

“Yes, it is. You chose him, knowing everything he’s done to us. How do you expect us to trust you after that?”

The words hit hard, and although you wanted to defend yourself, you knew it was pointless. You had let them down, and there was no apology that could fix it at that moment.

You turned and walked away, feeling the tears burn in your eyes as their voices faded behind you. Every step you took through the sand seemed to sink you deeper into a pit of despair.

Rafe didn't make things any easier either. Even though you knew he loved you, his actions didn't match his feelings. After that night at his house, he had been the one who started to put more distance between you. His messages became scarce, and the times you did manage to see him, he seemed like a man torn between his desire to have you close and his conviction that it was better for you to walk away.

One afternoon, you found him on the beach, sitting alone on a rock, staring at the horizon. You slowly approached, afraid he would reject you again. Sensing your presence, Rafe turned his head. For a moment, his eyes softened at the sight of you, but he soon hardened his expression again.

“I told you that you shouldn’t be here,” he said quietly, though there was no real conviction in his words.

You sat down beside him without asking permission, your heart pounding.

“I can’t keep ignoring you, Rafe. I can’t keep pretending that I don’t care about you.”

He sighed, running a hand through his messy hair.

“It’s not fair to you. All of this… it’s not what you deserve.”

“Let me decide that,” you replied firmly, trying to meet his gaze. “I don’t want to be without you, even if it means carrying all of this weight.”

Rafe finally looked at you, and in his eyes you saw a sea of ​​emotions: love, guilt, and a desperation that mirrored your own.

“I’m ruining you,” he whispered, as if he was finally admitting his worst fear.

You shook your head, your shaking hands searching for him.

“No, Rafe. It ruins me more to be without you.”

He closed his eyes, fighting back tears. For a moment, it looked like he was going to give in, that he was going to let you stay. But then, in a broken voice, he murmured,

“I can’t do this to you.”

He abruptly stood up and began to walk away, leaving you alone once again. You stood there, watching his figure disappear into the distance, the sound of the sea mixing with the sobs you could no longer hold back.

The nights grew longer, and the pain became a constant. You lay awake for hours, wondering if things could have been different, if there was any way to get your brother, your friends, and Rafe back. But every time you closed your eyes, the only answer you found was the weight of loneliness that continued to grow inside you.

[rottenfyre]

⸻ ᴛ ʜ ᴇ ᴛ ʏ ʀ ᴀ ɴ ᴛ ⸻

Pairing: Yandere HOTD x Targaryen Reader Part 2

Summary: After your mother's death, your life wasn't the same anymore. Everything was changing so fast and you were just watching.

Warning: Y/n herself is a warning.

Notes: English is not my first language. Gifs don't belong to me, credit to the owner. Hope you enjoy!

The air felt cool against her damp skin as she stood in front of the window, watching the distant glow of King's Landing beneath the night sky. Her body was still warm from the bath, the steam lingering in the room as it slowly dissipated, leaving behind the soft scent of lavender and rosewater.

She let her fingers trace the edges of the windowpane, feeling the cold, hard glass beneath her fingertips. It was quiet tonight—eerily so. The usual sounds of the city seemed muted, as if the world outside had gone still, holding its breath.

Her handmaid, Elira, stood behind her, gently brushing through her wet hair. The familiar rhythm of the bristles moving through her locks was soothing, almost meditative. Elira had always been there. Since the very beginning. They were the same age, but Elira had always known her place—quiet, loyal, obedient. Always there, always in the background, never faltering.

"It still hurts, you know... losing her." She spoke softly, her voice almost a whisper, more to herself than to Elira. She stared out into the dark horizon, her eyes distant. "Mother was... everything. The only person who truly knew me."

Elira didn't respond—she never did when it came to such things. She just kept brushing her hair, silent, attentive, like the shadow she had always been.

The ache in her chest intensified, a dull, ever-present throb that threatened to consume her. Who’s going to love me now? Her mother had been everything. The one person who had always been kind, always been gentle. And now, she was gone. The gods, if they even existed, had taken her away. Not just her mother, but her newborn brother as well.

Y/n blinked slowly, her eyes burning. Why did they take them? What kind of gods would do this? Why leave me behind with nothing? She couldn’t understand it, couldn’t process the emptiness that had swallowed her whole since that day. The pain was constant, gnawing at her insides like a beast that wouldn’t stop.

She hadn’t left this room since they told her. She hadn’t gone to the funeral. What would be the point? Rhaenyra had been the one to carry their mother’s body. She could have done that too. She could have honored her mother, but what was the point when she wasn’t even here? She was dead. Dead.

Y/n closed her eyes for a moment, letting herself sink into the sensation of the brush moving through her hair. "I loved her. I always did... I was kind to her, wasn't I?" The words felt heavy on her tongue, as if she were asking herself more than Elira. She knew the answer already. She had been kind. She had been gentle.

She sighed softly, her breath fogging the glass in front of her as her thoughts drifted. It was supposed to be a boy. A brother. I would’ve been kind to him too. She had already chosen the Dreamfyre egg for him, already imagined what he would look like with his silver hair and violet eyes.

But now... there was no brother. No mother. Just silence.

Suddenly, a sharp tug at her scalp broke through her thoughts, jolting her back to the present. She flinched slightly, her eyes narrowing as she turned her head just enough to glance at Elira.

"I'm so sorry, princess! Please forgive me!" Elira’s voice trembled, her hands shaking as she quickly let go of the brush, dropping it to the floor. She fell to her knees, her head bowed low, not daring to look up at Y/n. "Please, forgive me, I didn’t mean to hurt you. I didn’t... please, please, forgive me..."

Y/n stared down at her, unblinking, her mind oddly blank. Elira had always been loyal. She had always done what she was told. And now here she was, groveling on the floor, begging for forgiveness over a simple tug of hair. It was... pathetic.

But she didn’t feel angry. She didn’t feel anything.

"It's alright," she said calmly, her voice soft but devoid of emotion. "You can continue."

Elira hesitated for a moment, her hands still trembling as she slowly picked up the brush again, standing on shaky legs. She resumed her task, this time more careful, her movements slower, more deliberate.

Y/n turned back to the window, her gaze distant once more, her mind drifting in and out of the haze that had settled over her ever since her mother’s death. She could still hear Elira sniffling softly behind her, no doubt still terrified of making another mistake.

It’s fine, she told herself. She’s always been like this. Always afraid. Always apologizing. But it didn’t matter. None of it mattered.

She closed her eyes again, her fingers tracing the cool glass once more, feeling the chill seep into her skin.

“I made a decision,” Viserys looked between his daughters. “I have chosen to name Rhaenyra as my heir.”

The words hit her like a wave of ice-cold water, freezing her smile in place. Wait… what? Her mind stumbled, struggling to make sense of the words. Rhaenyra? She blinked, willing herself to understand, to hear something else, but the reality pressed on her, unyielding.

“That’s… great, Father!” she managed, her voice tight and bright. Her lips twitched, and somehow, she forced them into a smile. She clasped her hands in front of her, feeling them shake, the tremors threatening to give her away. Hold it together, she thought desperately, teeth gritted behind her smile. Don’t let them see. Don’t let them see.

A cacophony of voices began to rise within her, whispering, hissing, each word cutting into her like a thousand small blades. Weak… pathetic… that’s what you are.

Her nails dug into her palms as she continued to hold her smile. No, I’m not weak… he just doesn’t see my worth yet. He doesn’t understand. But he will, he will…

That’s why Father chose her, isn’t it? Because you’re useless. Because you’re nothing.

She swallowed hard, her throat dry, and glanced sideways at Rhaenyra, who was watching her with a mixture of pride and hesitance. Rhaenyra, the golden girl. Rhaenyra, the heir. Rhaenyra… the one Father loves. Her stomach twisted painfully, but she forced herself to keep smiling, her jaw aching from the strain.

Of course he doesn’t love you, they continued. Why would he? You’re not what he wanted. You’re just a mistake, a failure, a useless little girl who couldn’t be more than a shadow.

Her heart hammered against her ribs, each beat like a drum in her ears. She felt hollow, as if she were disappearing from within, crumbling like ash. I’m not useless, I’m not… But they laughed, drowning her, making it impossible to think.

Look at him. Look at how he looks at her. Do you see that warmth in his eyes? He has never looked at you like that. He never will.

Her hands were trembling openly now, and she clasped them tighter, willing herself to stop, to silence the whirlwind inside her. I am more than this, she thought, but the words felt empty, like something fragile that could shatter with a single breath. She lifted her gaze to her father, but his expression was unchanged, his eyes full of pride—for Rhaenyra.

That’s all you are, isn’t it? A disappointment. A shadow, unwanted and unloved.

Her head swam, and she could barely hear anything beyond the mocking laughter echoing in her mind. But she kept smiling, the mask she wore cracking at the edges, her heart sinking with each passing second. You're wrong. You're wrong about me. Father does love me… he has to…

“Are you all right?” Viserys asked, frowning slightly.

The words jolted her back to the room, and she forced herself to nod, ignoring the way her throat tightened. “Yes, Father,” she said, her voice barely a whisper. She wanted to scream, to cry, to tear down everything around her, but instead, she turned to leave, her face carefully blank.

As she walked away, the voices clawed at her, unrelenting, ruthless.

Useless. Unwanted. Weak. That’s why he chose her. That’s why he’ll always choose her. Because you will never be enough.

It's finally over. It had been a long day, a day that had dragged on for what seemed like an eternity. Today Rhaenyra had been named heir to the Iron Throne and she had to bow before her.

As she walked, Elira, kept a respectful distance behind her, her soft footsteps barely audible. The quiet murmur of the castle, usually so comforting to Y/n, only seemed to intensify the ache in her chest. She quickened her pace, her heels clicking sharply against the stone floor as the thoughts spiraled deeper. Why her? Why not me?

"Thanks the gods it's Princess Rhaenyra,"

Y/n froze, her entire body stiffening as she heard the words. Her mind raced, and her steps slowed, her breath catching. She looked around the corner, and saw a small group of servants standing near a doorway, talking among themselves. Her gaze narrowed as she caught the full statement.

"Ah, yes, I'm really thankful the King didn’t choose that mad cunt," one of them laughed, a harsh, ugly sound that made her skin crawl.

"What did you say?"

They immediately froze when they heard her, their faces draining of color. She could hear their frantic whispers, the way their voices faltered in fear. One of them, took a hesitant step backward.

The servants' eyes widened, and they all started stammering apologies, their words tangled together in a rush of panic.

"Please, my lady, we meant no harm, we were just—"

"We were just talking, milady. Please forgive us—"

"Please don’t—"

Her eyes locked onto the boy who had spoken the words. He looked terrified now, his face pale, his eyes wide with fear. She took a step forward, the rage bubbling over, her movements fluid and quick as she closed the distance between them. The boy shrank back, but it was too late.

“What the fuck did you just say to me?” Y/n half-yelled, her voice a venomous hiss. Everything that had been building inside her—the anger, the hurt, the rejection—came flooding out in a violent, unstoppable wave.

The servants froze, some of them taking instinctive steps back, but they couldn’t escape.

Before the boy could even react, Y/n was on him, her hands grabbing his hair. With a sickening crack, she slammed his skull against the stone wall. She didn’t even register the impact at first, her vision turning red as the anger clouded her thoughts. She did it again. And again. And again.

The sound of his skull crashing against the stone echoed in her ears, drowning out everything else. She didn’t hear the cries, the pleading, the desperate sobs. She didn’t hear Elira begging her to stop, her voice barely cutting through the haze of fury.

"Stop! Please! Stop!" Elira cried, her voice high with fear, but Y/n was beyond reason now. She could feel the boy’s head break beneath her hands, could feel the blood running down her fingers. The sound of his sobs, his frantic begging, only drove her further into madness.

And then, after what felt like an eternity, it was over. She stood there, panting, her breath ragged as she stared down at the boy’s lifeless body. His head was a mangled mess, blood seeping out from the cracks in his skull. Her hands were slick with it, the red staining her fingers, her palms.

She blinked, coming back to herself slowly. The haze began to clear. She looked down at the body, her heart still racing, the adrenaline still coursing through her veins. Her chest heaved, and for a moment, she could barely comprehend what had just happened. She didn’t even remember how she’d gotten here, or how many times she’d struck him.

He’s dead.

The thought hit her like a punch to the gut. Her heart sank, but the anger still simmered beneath the surface, still clawing at her insides. She turned to look around at the others—the servants were trembling, staring at her in horror, their faces pale and filled with fear.

Why... Why they are looking at me like this?

Y/n glanced down at her dress, now soaked in blood. It was one of her favorites. She frowned as she looked at the deep red stains, the fabric ruined. What a pity.

With a deep sigh, she straightened up, her anger beginning to ebb, leaving a hollow emptiness behind. Her voice was calm, too calm, as she turned to the servants. “Clean this mess up,” she ordered, her voice flat. “And make sure no one finds out about it.”

She didn’t care how they did it, just as long as it was done. She turned to Elira, her voice still controlled, though her emotions were a mess inside her. “Prepare the bath for me,” she said softly, almost pitiful. “I need to wash.”

As she walked away, Elira hesitated for a moment before following her. The others remained rooted to the spot, too afraid to move. Y/n walked through the hallways, the blood drying on her hands, her mind drifting in a haze of confusion and sadness.

I’m so tired. The thought came suddenly, washing over her like a wave. She let out a breath, shaking her head slightly.

But as she entered her chambers, she start thinking about the scene she left behind. The servants would clean it. They always did. But they would never forget. And neither would she.

With that, she closed the door behind her, her thoughts already shifting again, the sadness creeping back in.

"The realm will never accept a woman as their ruler," Rhaenys muttered, her voice laced with the bitterness that always seemed to cloud her words when the topic of succession arose.

Y/n tilted her head and nodded, the movement slow, almost sympathetic. Oh, how tragic, she thought, her lips curling into a faint smirk. All this whining and hand-wringing. Pathetic.

She softened her features, arranging her face into what she imagined looked like mild concern. "Tragic, isn’t it?" she said, her voice dripping with a smooth, honeyed sarcasm that neither of them seemed to catch.

"When I am queen I will create a new order," Rhaenyra said, her tone defiant, her chin lifted as though challenging the world to disagree.

Yes, yes, Rhaenyra, I’m sure you would be a shining example of wisdom and diplomacy, Y/n thought, fighting back a laugh. Keep dreaming.

"Of course you would, dear sister," Y/n replied smoothly, giving a slight, dismissive nod. "The realm would be lucky to have you."

Rhaenys glanced at her, as if sizing her up, before letting out a low, sardonic chuckle. "Men would sooner burn the kingdom than let a woman sit on the throne," she said, a bitter truth in her words that, for some reason, still failed to resonate with Y/n. Power wasn’t something one was given—it was taken. And anyone too weak to seize it had no right to it in the first place.

She hid her thoughts behind a sip of wine, watching them both with a half-lidded gaze, letting their words drift over her like idle gossip. What a pair they are—one too proud to realize her limitations, the other too bitter to let go of her grievances.

"Oh, yes, a kingdom ablaze," Y/n murmured, feigning a wistful tone. "How poetic. Such a tragic tale, isn’t it?" She held out her glass, staring into the dark red liquid as if pondering something deeply moving, though in truth, she was only admiring the way the light caught the wine.

Rhaenyra sighed heavily. "They underestimate us. They see us as delicate things, fit only to be wives and mothers."

"Do they?" Y/n’s smile widened, an amused glint in her eyes. Oh, the endless suffering. Boo-hoo.

Rhaenys was watching her with an arched brow, clearly picking up on the subtle mockery in her tone. "You don’t seem very troubled by any of this, Y/n," she observed, almost as if accusing her.

Y/n shrugged, a slow, lazy movement that exuded indifference. "Oh, I am devastated, truly," she replied, the sarcasm practically dripping from her words. "What a tragic world we live in, where women like us must endure such indignities. Really, it’s heartbreaking."

Rhaenyra shot her a sharp look. "This isn’t a joke, Y/n."

"Of course not," Y/n replied, her voice smooth as silk, unfazed by her sister’s disapproval. "Nothing about any of this is funny." She took another sip, savoring the wine and the absurdity of it all. I should be the one that wear the crown, not you.

Then, as though the thought had only just occurred to her, she sighed and placed her empty goblet aside. "Ah, but I must take my leave, unfortunately." She glanced over at them, feigning a regretful expression. "I’ve a fitting to attend for my dress, you know, for Father’s wedding. It simply wouldn’t do to be unprepared for such an occasion."

The slight in her tone was subtle, but it was there, veiled in a pleasant smile. The wedding going to happen sooner or later. What a spectacle it would be. Their dear father, so desperate to secure his legacy that he’d wed a mere girl, and all to produce another heir—a boy, if the gods were willing, and if not… well, it hardly mattered to her.

"How dutiful of you," Rhaenys remarked, a hint of mockery in her voice. It was clear she saw through Y/n’s thin veneer of civility.

"Indeed." Y/n inclined her head, lips quirking in a smug smile. "After all, it’s so important to play our parts well, isn’t it?"

She glanced back at them one last time, giving them both a pointed look, her smile widening as she took in their earnest, troubled faces. "Farewell, then. Do enjoy your discussion. Such deep, meaningful words, truly," she said, voice dripping with false admiration as she turned on her heel, sauntering away without a second glance.

Y/n strode toward her father’s chambers, Ser Criston trailing like a shadow at her side. She had a perfectly charming smile painted on her lips until she came up short, blocked by two guards standing in front of the doors. Their hands gripped their spears, glancing at each other nervously before looking back at her.

“Step aside,” she said, voice a silky command.

The guards didn’t budge.

One of them, foolishly brave or utterly clueless, raised a hand. “I’m sorry, my lady, but the King has asked to not be disturbed.”

Her smile faltered, her eyes narrowing ever so slightly. “You’re saying I can’t see my father?” Her voice was calm, almost amused. She tilted her head, letting her gaze drift over their faces with cold scrutiny. “Are you sure that’s wise?”

The guard stiffened, clearly feeling her gaze like a blade. “We have orders.”

She chuckled, the sound smooth as honey but laced with venom. “And do you have any idea what I could do to you for disobeying me?” She leaned in, voice dropping low. “I could have your tongues ripped out, have you hanging from the city walls by your intestines, all while you beg for mercy.” She smiled, sickly sweet. “Or perhaps I could just tell my father you disrespected his daughter.”

The guards flinched, glancing at each other but standing firm.

She clicked her tongue, gaze sharpening. “Perhaps I should have Ser Criston here peel the skin from your faces, inch by inch? How does that sound?”

Criston’s hand drifted to his sword, his eyes darkening in anger at their defiance. Before he could make a move, Otto appeared around the corner, striding toward them with his usual calm authority.

“Ah, my lord Hand,” Y/n said, smile widening as she turned toward Otto. She cast the guards one last look before redirecting her attention.

Otto looked at her and then at the guards, clearly sensing the tension in the air. “Is there a problem here, princess?” His voice was calm, as if he hadn’t just walked into a potential bloodbath.

She tilted her head, letting out a soft, exasperated sigh. “Oh, nothing major, Lord Hand,” she purred. “Just a minor misunderstanding. These men seem to think they have the right to keep me from my father’s chambers. Quite peculiar, don’t you think?” She cast a smug glance at the guards, watching as they shifted uncomfortably.

The guards started to speak up, but Y/n shot them a warning glare, silencing them immediately. “In fact, I’d say it was downright insulting.”

Otto nodded thoughtfully, his expression neutral. “Well, princess, your father is about to attend the small council meeting. I’ve come to fetch him myself.”

She clenched her jaw, an annoyed sigh slipping from her lips as she finally gave a small nod. Fucking cock suckers. But she kept her expression calm, respectful even. Otto had always been fond of her—treated her like one of his own, in a way. No need to break that little bond just yet.

“Very well,” she murmured, stepping back as she allowed Otto to enter. She watched him disappear into the chamber, then turned her gaze back toward the guards, her expression a warning that needed no words. They quickly looked away, pretending to be more interested in the floor.

Moments later, Otto returned with her father. Viserys offered her a faint, apologetic smile, but his focus seemed elsewhere, a bit distracted. Odd. Otto, too, seemed unusually composed, almost as if there was something else on his mind.

As they walked away, Y/n glanced toward the chamber doors, half-distracted, until she caught a flash of red hair in the corner of her vision. A woman’s figure seated on the edge of the bed—her father’s bed.

Her heart skipped a beat, eyes widening. She had to suppress a sudden laugh, biting her nails as her excitement bubbled up. Oh, now that’s just… delicious.

There’s no way… Is that…? Did Otto really…? Oh, you sly, clever old fox. So that’s why Father’s been so preoccupied. And here I thought he was just mourning my poor Mother.

“Are you all right, my lady?” Criston’s voice brought her back to the present. He glanced at her with concern.

She smiled at him, a flash of brightness that was all teeth. “I’m perfectly fine, Ser Criston,” she murmured, her gaze still lingering on that red hair. Alicent. The Hand’s sweet little daughter, warming dear Father’s bed where Mother once lay. Oh, it was almost poetic.

Without another word, she wrapped her arm around Criston’s, a little too tight, leading him away, her smile widening as her mind danced with happiness. The thrill of it all simmered under her skin, making her eyes glint with a mad sort of glee.

Oh, Rhaenyra… if only you knew. Your dear friend is right here, warming our father’s bed. Such a pity you don’t see it yet. Poor, poor little sister.

Criston glanced at her, brow furrowed in confusion. “Is something the matter, my lady?”

“Nothing at all,” she purred, letting out a small laugh. “I’m just… happy, that’s all.”

As the small council convened, Viserys rose to his feet, his expression serious yet strained. She cast a brief glance at Rhaenyra beside her, who watched their father with rapt attention, completely unaware.

Don’t tell me Father’s actually going to—

“I have decided… I am to marry Lady Alicent Hightower.”

The silence that followed was exquisite. Y/n’s smirk widened as she glanced sideways at Rhaenyra, whose face had turned from shock to disbelief. Rhaenyra’s eyes met Y/n’s, wide and wounded, and in that brief exchange, Y/n’s smirk told her everything. Yes, dear sister, I knew. I knew before you did. And now… so do you.

Y/n’s gaze turned cold as she looked across the room at Corlys. He sat motionless for a moment, disbelief and anger barely concealed in his face as he processed what the King had just announced. She barely held back her sneer of disgust.

This pathetic man… offering up his child to this decrepit old fool just to worm his way closer to the throne. What a spineless little weasel. Tried to sell sweet Leana to Father… You’re nothing but a cock-sucking snake, Corlys.

Corlys’ face hardened. Offended, he shot Viserys a withering look before standing abruptly and leaving the room in silence. Y/n’s eyes followed him, the smirk still tugging at her lips. Good riddance, you worm.

Next to her, Rhaenyra had gone pale. She shot a look of absolute betrayal at Alicent, whose face was touched with guilt, as if she’d known this moment was coming yet hadn’t prepared for the sight of her friend’s hurt. Then turning on her heel and storming out.

Poor, naive Rhaenyra… How perfect, to have this all crumble around you while you stood unaware.

But Y/n stayed, savoring the stunned silence that filled the room, and then, without missing a beat, she plastered on her most sincere smile.

“Congratulations, Father!” she chimed, her voice warm as she moved toward Viserys.

Viserys let out a sigh, though a relieved one, as she embraced him, patting her arm gently. “Thank you, my dear,” he replied, clearly grateful for her support.

She released him, turning to Alicent, who was still wide-eyed, not quite sure what to make of the sudden affection Y/n was showing. She shifted uncomfortably as Y/n opened her arms to her.

“Alicent,” Y/n murmured, drawing her in with a tight embrace, voice sweet as honey. She leaned close to her ear, her words just barely audible to anyone but Alicent.

“Oh, Alicent,” she murmured into her ear, “I always knew you were a little whore.” She felt Alicent’s body stiffen, but she continued, undeterred. “You shouldn’t be so pleased with yourself—you’ve married my rotting father, after all.” She let out a mocking laugh, barely a whisper. “I can only imagine… his ‘crown jewels’ are as decrepit as the rest of him. But lucky you, you’re the perfect breeding mare, aren’t you? A nice, wet hole to keep his cock warm,” she added, voice dripping with contempt, “Every night you’ll lay with him, his decaying hands on you, his disgusting, rotting body. I’ll bet even his—” she sneered, “—cock is rotting.”

Alicent’s face flushed, her breath catching as she stood, stunned and trembling in Y/n’s arms. Y/n only smiled, tilting her head to kiss her on the cheek.

“I’m so happy for you, Mother,” she cooed, her voice dripping with sweetness.

Alicent, visibly shaken, managed a faltering smile, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “Thank you… daughter.”

Part 1

@ʀᴏᴛᴛᴇɴꜰʏʀᴇ 2024. ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴄᴏᴘʏ, ᴛʀᴀɴꜱʟᴀᴛᴇ ᴏʀ ᴜꜱᴇ ᴀɴʏ ᴏꜰ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋꜱ ʜᴇʀᴇ ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴡᴇʙꜱɪᴛᴇꜱ

[jasvtsc]

terminally ill!dean winchester x reader.

dean knew that he didn’t have much time.

after discovering that he had blood clots in his brain that were pretty much incurable, because of a spell some witch cast on him, he didn’t know what to do. for the first time in his life, he felt so…

lost.

and when he thought about it better, he realized that he was all alone.

sure, there were people in his life. he had his brother and his friends. but he didn’t have his own person. everyone had someone. sam had a whole family, castiel was back in heaven doing some angel duty type shit and the rest of them? they weren’t that close.

so yeah, everyone had someone. but dean? he was lonely.

how else, after all he was the one who got rid of you in the first place. he still had this bitter feeling about your break up. not to mention the guilt that was eating him alive since that day.

as the type of person who avoids any type of feelings like fire, he did the same with you. as soon as you were getting too close to his liking, he got scared and immediately ran away. he came up with some shit, how he just got bored of you and it was all causal from the beginning — you were just imagining things, there was no relationship.

when in fact he loved you. and he loved you like crazy.

and the knowledge that he was about to die soon (where this time there was no coming back), he was actually scared.

all he wanted was one day with you.

but even when he was standing on the front porch of your house, he hesitated, his hand halfway up to the door as he didn’t know if he should knock. however, he had nothing to lose at this point. even if you screamed at him how much you hated him and punched him repeatedly, he’d take it. he’d do everything, just to see you this one last time.

so, he knocked.

and when you opened the door, you didn’t know if you were seeing things now or what. there he was — dean fucking winchester, in the flesh.

you debated whether you should kick him out or kick him. the fucking audacity to appear at your doorstep after all these years? yeah, well, you weren’t as strong-willed as you wanted to be so soon enough, he was sitting in your kitchen, having a cup of coffee.

“so, kids, huh?” he hummed, looking around at all the different pictures of your little family — your partner and two kids probably around the age of four and two.

and he couldn’t help but feel nauseous at the thought that it could be him if if wasn’t for the fact that he was a fucking coward. it was enough to make him want to turn back time and undo everything.

he missed you, so much.

and at this point, he regretted his whole life spent on avoiding commitment. maybe then, he’d have someone who would care for him enough to have a family together. maybe then, he’d get to be the father he once dreamed of being. he had always been good with kids and he wanted to even have some of his own one day — with you.

but of course, he had to fuck it up like everything else in his life.

“what do you want, dean?” you sighed tiredly, rubbing your temple. this whole situation was already giving you a headache and you had a feeling that it was about to get worse.

you weren’t wrong.

“well, you see—“ he cleared his throat and began to explain his situation. he didn’t want pity or sympathy. he didn’t want to guilt trip you. he just wanted you… to know. that’s all. “—so, i just wanted to see you again. one last time,” he said with a sheepish smile, quickly looking away.

because as soon as he noticed the tears gathering in your beautiful eyes, that once had held so much love for him, he felt like he was about to cry himself.

“how much time do you have?” you asked, your voice trembling as you looked at him in disbelief. it felt so surreal to know that the man you once loved was actually dying. and there was nothing you could’ve done about it.

“i don’t know,” he shrugged.

a fucking lie.

he knew exactly how much time he had left — just a few hours. he already said his goodbyes to everyone and you were the last one on his list. and the reason was pretty simple — he wanted to spend his last moments with the love of his life.

with the one that got away.

a/n: so yeah, this one was inspired by a kdrama called mr. plankton (that shit DESTORYED ME i actually need a few business days to get it together lmao) and ig i just keep on being emo

༄♡ tags: @internetitgirl17 @beausling @deanswidow @deansbite @aileenunfiltered @fitxgrld @figthoughts @angelicp0etry @hrtsoldierboy @titsout4nicholas

[naughtyneganjdm]

Love's Second Chance: A Holiday Reunion - Chapter 2

Summary: To distract herself from her loneliness, Y/N throws herself into helping the town finish decorating for Christmas. Since her divorce, Tommy has joined her every year since to help. A minor mishap leads to her running into someone from her past.

Characters: Negan Smith, the reader (OC), Tommy Miller, Joel Miller (mentions), Maria (mentions), etc.

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/60501985/chapters/154591387

Warnings: Swearing, angst, depression, sad discussions, etc.

Notes: As promised, I will be posting this story three times a week on Monday, Wednesday and Friday. So, yeah! Here it is. Thanks to those who take the time to read it! There is no Joel in this chapter, but he is talked about a lot. Credit to gif @jdmorganz

It was gut-wrenching waking up to an empty house during Christmas time. Silence was not something that Y/N was used to. Being alone was hard enough throughout the normal part of the year, but during Christmas? It was the worst. Y/N would be lying if she said that it wasn’t getting to her. Depression set in pretty heavy during the holidays when the children were with Joel. Distractions were the only way to make it through. Because sitting in an empty house not having someone to share her time with hurt. And it hurt a lot. That’s why when she could help out around town, she happily did. That way her mind was busy and she didn’t think about the loneliness that ate away at her.

For a few weeks she had been helping to put up the decorations around their small hometown. It was something she had been doing ever since she was a kid, so it just stuck with her. With Christmas only a few weeks away, they were desperate to finish everything off to have everything prepared for their most popular festivities and Y/N was there to help them.

Although, this morning she was a bit late because she had to pick up Tommy to come help her. Every year since Joel and Y/N separated, Tommy always made an effort to come help Y/N when she worked on the decorations. Sometimes she thought Tommy did it out of pity, but she wasn’t going to turn down the extra help. Truthfully? She liked having the company too.

“I don’t know how you always have the energy to do this,” Tommy yawned from where he was standing below her holding onto the ladder that was there. Things would have been done faster if Tommy was helping in other places, but last night there was a storm that came through that made things incredibly slippery. So having Tommy holding onto the ladder kept her safe. “Even after the coffee I feel like a zombie.”

“Maybe if you would have gone to bed earlier, you wouldn’t be so tired,” she teased him, stealing a quick look down at him. His head tipped to the side and his big brown eyes seemed so innocent in the moment. “Staying up all night and then expecting to wake up in the morning with little too no sleep doesn’t work so well when you get to your thirties.”

“Hey,” Tommy frowned when she mentioned his age, wrinkling his nose in frustration. “We don’t have to go there with the age thing. I can handle being up all night.”

“Every time I listen to you talk, I question if you are my children’s age,” Y/N pestered Tommy hearing him scoff from down below. Working to put the lights up, she was very careful and heard Tommy yawning once more. “Then again, you do spend a lot of time with my children and they say that you start acting like the people you are around most often.”

“Then I should be grumpy and energetic at the same time,” Tommy suggested with an amused expression when she looked down at him. That was a slam on Joel and she knew it. It was nice that sometimes Tommy although appreciating his brother’s love toward him could be candid about Joel being grumpy. “Can I be honest with you?”

“You always have been,” she moved down the ladder to help Tommy move it before heading back up to start on the next area.

“I was questioning coming here today. I thought about canceling,” Tommy admitted, brushing his fingers through his longer hair, slicking it back. Grasping tightly to the ladder after, Tommy took a look around and sighed loudly. “But then I remembered a promise I made to you a very long time ago and I intend to keep it.”

“If you didn’t want to come Tommy, you didn’t have to,” she assured him, letting out a strained breath when she reached a little too far and almost fell over. Bracing herself again, she realized that she was thankful he was here because this would have been impossible without him. “You don’t have to keep doing this if you’re no longer interested.”

“Oh no. I’m happy doing it. I like spending time with you,” Tommy insisted with worry in his tone. Tommy’s southern drawl was actually thicker than Joel’s so some of his words came off a bit silly making her smile. “That’s not it at all. You just were right about me being up all night. It’s strange how much y’know me.”

“I helped raise you,” she reminded him with a tiny laugh. “I’d be worried if I didn’t. So what were you doing all night?”

“Honestly? A few weeks ago, after a long night of working with Joel, I stopped into the town diner,” Tommy stammered, his fingers curling tighter around the ladder. A warmth flooded into his face with what he was about to tell her. “It was pretty empty in there, so I sat at the counter. A few seats down was this girl. And we got to talkin’…a lot. After that? We’ve been meeting there every day since. At the same time and everything. Talking all night long. So that’s why I almost cancelled on you. I didn’t want to though, so that’s why I’m here.”

“That’s great Tommy!” she assured him, wanting to give him encouragement with what he was telling her while still focusing on getting the lights up. “I’m glad to hear that.”

“Thanks, but…” Tommy’s words came to a quick halt, an uncomfortable sound escaping his lips. “I reckon this sounds ridiculous, but I’m nervous. See I think she’s amazing. Beautiful. Funny. Smart. I think she’s the woman of my dreams.”

“And what’s the problem there?” Y/N wondered, moving down the ladder again to stand before Tommy who looked uneasy talking about this. “Tommy?”

“Well, I’m me. Everyone in this town knows that I’ve had issues,” Tommy reminded her of his past and the problems that he went through with his mental health. Especially after his parents died and after he came back from the war. “People get into everyone’s business here and I’m a mess. I’m not a good match for anyone.”

“That’s bullshit,” she immediately corrected him, stepping forward to grab a hold of the jacket that he was wearing. Pulling him closer, she stroked her hands over his jacket and heard him laugh. “You’re Tommy Miller. The man with a beautiful soul that wants to do his best to save the world. You’re kind. You’re strong. You’re willing to fight for those who can’t. You have the biggest heart. It doesn’t matter about your hardships. Plus? You have the best hair I’ve ever seen.”

“You had to throw that last line in there,” Tommy snickered with Y/N brushing her fingers through his curvy dark locks. “Sometimes you really do feel like my mother Y/N.”

“A part of me feels like I am. Just minus the whole birthing you thing. I adopted you when I was eighteen, Tommy,” she reminded him, teasing him by grabbing his cheek and giving it a firm squeeze. It had his already reddened cheeks from the cold blushing over more. “So I think I know more than anyone. Other than your brother of course.”  

“I still feel bad that you were forced to do that,” Tommy frowned, reaching out to wrap his arms around Y/N to pull her into his arms to give her a big hug. “You were still a kid yourself.”

“So was Joel when he did it, but it didn’t matter. We were a family and we were going to do whatever it took to keep you safe and with your family,” she reminded him, patting him on the chest knowing that with Joel, they went above and beyond to raise Tommy right. “You know I love you.”

“And I love you too,” Tommy promised her with a wink, looking back over his shoulder again as if he was in search of someone. “Which is why I can open up to you. Joel is not very good with all this stuff. It’s hard talking to him. I usually just get a grunt here or there. And I don’t think he’d be happy with me liking this girl.”

“I think Joel would be glad that you found someone that makes you happy,” she suggested, moving the ladder again with Tommy. “Your brother just isn’t very good with romance. He hasn’t been for a while. Confrontation makes him uncomfortable.”

“The moment the two of you got divorced is the moment I stopped believing in true love,” Tommy confessed to her with a frown. It had her chest aching and she gave him a weak smile. It was sweet to hear that, but hard to believe. “I never thought the two of you would break up.”

She didn’t know what to say. She just pat Tommy on the shoulder and gave him a wink. Moving back up the ladder, she heard Tommy muttering something to himself before speaking up again for her to hear, “You know Maria?”

“The mayor’s daughter?” she looked down to confirm with Tommy who gave her a small nod. “You have a thing going with the mayor’s daughter?”

“Well, it’s not a thing. It’s just, well…I don’t know what to call it,” Tommy slurred, tipping his head from side to side. “We’re talkin’? I guess that’s the best way to put it. But I’d really like it to be a thing. She makes me feel things I didn’t know I was capable of feelin’.”

Considering what he was saying, she understood why Joel might be upset with Tommy being in love with Maria. Tommy got in a lot of trouble when he was younger. And the mayor was not always the kindest to Tommy. There was no doubt that Joel would be worried that if something happened with Maria and Tommy that the mayor would go out of his way to make an example of Tommy.

“Ya see why I’m nervous?” Tommy grumbled under his breath, slightly kicking at the snow.

“Well, the mayor has never really been your biggest fan,” she reminded Tommy who let out an uncomfortable breath. That statement made him more ill at ease and she hated to do that to Tommy. “Tommy, it’s not the mayor you are in love with. It’s his daughter. His adult daughter. If you like her and you want to make something more out of it? Do it. Life is short and happiness is rare. So if you can capture that happiness? Go after it. It’s Maria’s life we’re talking about. Not her father’s.”

“So you think it would be okay for me to ask her out on a date-date?” Tommy inquired making sure to keep the ladder steady when Y/N moved back down it. “You don’t think she would say no? I mean with her father hating me all those years…”

“Tommy,” she got him to focus on her after his eyes had wandered around a little bit. “You are a catch. You are one of the most loving people I have ever known. And you’re telling me this girl is already meeting you every night at the diner. I feel like maybe she already thinks there is something there. Because if she didn’t? She wouldn’t be showing up every night.”

“You think?” Tommy went from looking uneasy and self-conscious to having a smile spreading out over his young features.

“I know,” she gave him a wink feeling the sensation of her phone vibrating in her pocket. Pulling off her glove, she tucked it under her arm and dug inside of her pocket for her phone. Lifting it up, she managed to block out the sunlight just enough to see that it was a text from Elizabeth. Opening it up, she saw that it was two photos of a Santa photo session that she had taken with Joel and Peter. The first one was all smiles and the second was the three of them doing crazy faces while Santa looked scared. It made her smile, but at the same time, it hurt. They started having fun with the photos after Joel divorced her. It was like he was making up for the fact that they were no longer together. Without warning, her phone was pulled from her hand and she felt a breath catch in her throat. “Hey!”

“What is it?” Tommy moved around until he could see the screen to see what it was that had made her unhappy. It had Tommy frowning and he looked back at Y/N to see that she was still upset. “How did I know it had something to do with my brother?”

“It’s nothing,” she tried to dismiss that it was a big deal, but Tommy knew better. “I don’t know, Tommy. It’s just hard seeing those sometimes. That was something we used to do together, but now that’s his thing with the children.”

“Why don’t you ask to be part of it?” Tommy reasoned with her, handing her back the phone. Sending Elizabeth a sweet text, she pushed her phone back into her pocket and shrugged. “It’s only right. You’re their mother.”

“Joel made it clear that he didn’t want that after we got separated,” she explained, pulling her glove back on when she swallowed down hard. “And I respected that. It’s just hard because at first Joel was great with it. You know that. You were in our photos until you were eighteen. But the last few years of our marriage he would always…”

“Bitch?” Tommy finished for her. Reflecting on what Tommy said, she nodded her head. That’s not the words she would use, but it summed it up perfectly.

“He hated doing that. But as soon as we were divorced? He went out of his way for it to be special and fun. It’s his thing now even though I’m the one that started it,” she pointed out, separating the lights better so it would be easier for her to put them up. “I know I shouldn’t be jealous or have my feelings hurt, it’s just hard not being part of something anymore.”

“That’s not how things should be,” Tommy frowned, trying to help her with the lights after seeing her struggling.

“But it’s how they are,” she knew there was no changing it. Over the last four years? This was just the way things had ended up.

“Joel should really be here helping you,” Tommy suggested to her with a shrug of his shoulders. “It was his thing with you. Ever since you were kids.”

“You know he hated this more than he did the Santa photo,” she half laughed and Tommy rolled his eyes. “It was worse getting him out than it is you. And by the time he got here? He let everyone know that he didn’t want to be here. He always helped people out around town, but he let people know that he didn’t like it.”

“Grumpy would probably be the definition of Joel Miller over the last few years,” Tommy spoke up with a half-smile, reconsidering what he actually said when he thought about it. “Maybe decade?”

“Don’t let him hear you say that,” she pat Tommy on the chest and gave him a playful wink.

“Ah, he knows I say what I think all the time. It’s a habit when you’re a Miller,” Tommy retorted, his smile expanding out over his features. “We really have no filtering system.”

“Yeah,” she contemplated what he was saying. Thoughts of the night before flooded her mind which had her getting curious. “Elizabeth said that Joel and Tess broke up a while ago. How did that happen?”

“Yeah, it was…nasty,” Tommy explained, his eyebrows bouncing up showing the tension in his face. When it came to Joel’s love life, she tried to avoid talking about it. Most of the time it upset her. But hearing that they weren’t together anymore? That actually piqued her interest. “I was actually surprised it went so bad because I thought Joel would eventually get married to Tess,” Tommy was rambling off, but quickly stopped when he saw the color drain from her face. “I just mean, they seemed to be really into each other. They were really hot and heavy. I think Tess kicked Joel’s ass a lot when they had sex. He’d walk away with marks a lot of the time. Some nights it was like…”

“Tommy, I really don’t want to hear about Joel’s sex life,” Y/N held her hand up to stop Joel’s younger brother from continuing.

“Of course you don’t. I’m sorry,” Tommy apologized profusely, visibly embarrassed that he let it get that far. “I was just saying. They seemed like a pretty tight couple. The only problem was, Tess wanted more from Joel and he just wasn’t willing to give it. It was the same things I heard from you when you fought with Joel. I guess he never called her his girlfriend. Never told her that he loved her. It’s like Joel turned off his emotions completely when it came to relationships. He’s cold. And that’s what I heard from both you and Tess. She accepted it for a while, but as you know, you can only take so much of being with someone and being lonely before you give up.”

Hearing that made her wonder if she should have felt bad for Tess. Part of her did, the other didn’t. This was the woman that Joel ended up with almost immediately after they got divorced. So for her? It felt like a win, but then again? She knew how hard it was loving Joel. Especially when you got nothing back in return.

“One day, she just picked up and left. Never came back,” Tommy elaborated, his big brown eyes locked on hers. “Joel barely reacted. I thought he would be more bothered over the fact that she left, but he didn’t say much. They fought all the time though. A lot of passion came from Tess, but Joel was muted. Tess was a ball buster. Joel definitely has a type. That’s for sure.”

“I was more of a ball buster when we were younger,” she chuckled at Tommy comparing her to Tess.

“Right. Because my brother made you his bitch,” Tommy blurt out and immediately his hand covered his mouth with a loud slap. Worry flooded his features. He was horrified with what he said. It took a minute for him to gather himself before he slowly lowered his hand. “I am so sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. I swear to God.”

“You’re not wrong,” she implied, knowing that she could have been mad, but she wasn’t going to be. “I just became a mom and a wife after a while. I lost a lot of what made me…me.”

“You were always special, no matter what stage of you that you were,” Tommy tried to make up for what he said, but the damage was kind of done. It wasn’t that she was mad at him, she just knew that he was right and that bit hurt. “Joel I think likes to be dominated. He likes to be told what to do. He’s had to be in control for so long that he just wants someone to…”

“Again, I don’t need to hear this,” she cut Tommy off wondering if he was going back into explaining Joel and Tess’s sex life with her. “Joel was always a very dominant person with me.”

“Maybe when he was younger. After he lost everything, I think he just wanted something…I don’t know,” Tommy seemed confused with how to describe his brother. “He had everything and more with you. I don’t know how he didn’t see that. I know you still love him. I don’t know how he could be so stupid. You just wanted him to fight for you sometimes…”

“Tommy,” she paused his train of thought, her chest hurting when she thought about how she felt for Joel. “Your brother has no interest in me. Even when the children talk about the two of us together, he’s quick to shut them down. He doesn’t love me anymore. Your brother hasn’t loved me for a very long time.”

“I think he cares about you,” Tommy slurred, his eyebrows furrowing when he tried to make light of the situation. “He…” there was a pause where Tommy was clearly trying to think of something to make her feel better. Waiting, she realized that he wasn’t coming up with something and she nodded. “I don’t know, Y/N. Joel is weird.”

“Don’t worry about it Tommy, one day this whole thing will get easier. Just, not yet,” she informed Tommy, moving back up to work on the lights again. There was a strong gust of wind that sent a chill throughout her whole body. The ladder wiggled a bit and she looked down to make sure that Tommy was holding onto it.

“Hey,” Tommy blurt out, his eyes now locking on something in the distance when he hesitated, letting go of one part of the ladder. “Maria is over there. Do you think that I should go ask her out on a date? Like a real one?”

“Of course, just give me…” she started only to see that Tommy was swiftly moving away from her while she was trying to finish with the lights that she was putting up in that specific spot. “Tommy!”

Another strong gust of wind filled the air and she realized she needed to get down. This wasn’t going to work. Trying to move down the steps, she felt the ladder slipping out beneath her and attempted to grab onto anything. It must have been the ice that it was slipping on. Even in her best efforts not to fall, her body fell backwards. The only thing for her to fall back on was hard cement. In Tommy’s haste of being excited to ask out the woman he was interested in, he left her to undoubtedly get injured in her fall.

“Jesus,” she gasped, expecting the ground to break her fall only to be surprised that someone caught her before she did. The sound of the ladder hitting the ground was loud, but thankfully she wasn’t hurt. Her adrenaline had just spiked, her heart hammering inside of her chest from the fear of it all.  

“Not quite,” a deep raspy voice pulled her attention away from the ladder. A breath caught in her throat at the familiar set of hazel eyes staring down at her. The strength of the arms squeezed around her and suddenly she felt more comfortable than she should have. “Fuck, I’m back in town ten minutes and you’re already falling for me?”

“Negan,” she whispered, taking a moment to gaze upon the man that her family was talking about only the night before. His long eyelashes fluttered, a small smile tugging at his handsome features when he gave an arrogant bob of his head. “Why are you here?”

“That’s it? Why am I here?” Negan’s nose wrinkled, the sound of amusement coming from his voice. “No thank you for saving my life? You’re my hero Negan?”

“Thank you for saving my life,” she rolled her eyes which was followed by Negan snorting. Carefully he lowered her back down to her feet, still keeping his hands braced over her shoulders to make sure that she was okay. “Tommy just fucking ran away and the wind knocked me down.”

“You really shouldn’t be the one up there doing that anyways,” Negan grumbled under his breath giving the whole set up a scrutinizing look. “This town was always so eager to get up the best of their decorations that they didn’t care how it got done. Tommy should have been the one going up and down. Not you. It was dangerous as it was.”

Silence followed. Y/N was staring at Negan. It had been an extraordinarily long time since she had seen him. The last day she saw him was likely his graduation. Of course she had seen him on the television, in magazines or at the occasional games that they took the children to, but never up close. It became obvious that she was staring at him and she felt a warmth flooding her cheeks.

“God, I’m sorry. I’m staring,” she apologized trying to force herself to look away when Negan’s smile grew twice the size. Arrogance flooded his handsome features with his dimples becoming more prominent knowing that she was locked in on him. “I just can’t believe you are here. It makes me think that I hit my head and I’m imagining this.”

“So if you were dying, you think I would be the person that you would conjure up to help calm you?” Negan rambled, giving her a wink when she groaned out. That was completely like Negan. Nothing much had changed. He just got older and grew a short beard. “I mean, it’s a good thing to picture right before you die. I think a lot of people would do that too.”

“The ego is still strong in you,” she poked at his chest which drew out a deep rumble of laughter from his throat. Almost instinctively, her hand reached up to press in over the side of Negan’s face feeling the coarse hairs of his beard underneath her fingertips. The last time she saw Negan, he had no facial hair. His face wasn’t nearly as chiseled as it was now. There were no lines in his face. Now he kept himself incredibly groomed whereas in the past he would often let his hair grow to the point of slicking it back out of his eyes. Back then he was a boy. Now? He was a man. And a very good-looking man at that. Time had done well for him. He was cute and charming when they were younger. Now? He was incredibly sexy and made time his bitch. The only thing that remained the same were his very prominent dimples that always charmed her. Just now they took her breath away with every big flashy smile he gave her. “God, you look so different.”

“And you look exactly the same,” he gave her a wink, mimicking her hand movement to brush his thumb in over her jawline. It had a chill flooding through her veins and she gave a weak smile. Maybe this was a poor reaction to seeing this man again for the first time. It was too forward. Blunt. But this was someone that she had been so close to in the past standing right before her again after so many years.

“I’m sorry. I was looking at photos of you yesterday so this is just weird for me,” she lowered her hand from his face seeing the intrigue that flooded into Negan’s features. “I don’t mean that in a weird creepy way. I know it sounds like it is. My daughter and her friends just have the biggest crush on you. And it was weirding Joel out. He mentioned us being good friends with you when we were younger and she didn’t believe him, so he was showing her pictures…”

“Ah, Joel Miller. How is the husband doing?” Negan stammered, dragging his hand away from her, taking a firm step backwards. Getting a good look at Negan now, she realized that he was dressed in mostly black. He was wearing black boots, a black pair of slacks and a long black coat that covered most of his chest. It just revealed a black sweater that he was wearing that had a white undershirt beneath it giving it a slight contrast of color. Pushing his hands into his pockets, Negan’s dimples immediately drew her attention when he smiled.

“Well,” she considered what to say next feeling her throat tensing up. Why wouldn’t she be honest in this moment? Lying to Negan would do nothing for her in the long run. “He’s not my husband anymore. We’ve been divorced for three years and separated for four.”

“Oh,” Negan’s lips parted, his mouth turning into a small o-shape as if he felt bad for saying it like that. The charismatic attitude was soon replaced with empathy and that surprised her. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know that.”

“Why would you? There is no reason for you to apologize,” she refused to have him feel bad for that. Lifting her hand she showed that she was no longer wearing her rings and shrugged her shoulders. What could she really say? She wasn’t about to have a meltdown about it in front of Negan. So instead she tried to blow things off with a joke. “Divorce is the number one killer of marriage.”

“Right,” Negan snorted, his head lowering in amusement. Just the sight of his smile caused her heart to skip a beat. How was it that his dimples were even more attractive now than they were when they were young?

“What about Lucille?” she questioned noticing the way that Negan’s eyebrows bounced up, his Adam’s apple tensing in his throat when he gazed her over. “I know the two of you were married since my daughter knows…a lot about you.”

“She uh…she passed away,” Negan paused, his face tensing up when he reached for something around his neck. Pulling it out from beneath the shirt, Negan stepped forward and she realized that it was a necklace. At the bottom of it were three rings. Immediately she regretted her joke and felt horrible for asking. Mortified would be an understatement. “Cancer. The second leading cause of killing marriages.”

“Jesus Negan,” she felt immediately embarrassed seeing the way he shrugged his shoulders. Now she regretted making a joke. There was some color that flooded into his face and guilt started to eat away at her. “I feel like the biggest fucking asshole in the world right now. I am so sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Negan hushed her, lifting his right hand to wave it about. “You didn’t know. I don’t know how much you pay attention to things. I tried keeping my private life, well, private. Fucking tried at least. I was never really very public about my life. So maybe your daughter didn’t even know. And I shouldn’t expect you to know because we haven’t talked in so fucking long. We’re pretty much strangers.”

“Shit,” she felt terrible for everything and just wished the world would swallow her whole right now. “I wish I wouldn’t have said what I did. It’s the first time I’ve seen you in so long and I made an ass of myself. In multiple ways.”

“Fuck, don’t worry about it. I’m just happy that I was walking by just at the right time to catch you,” Negan gave her a wink, and in that moment he noticed that she looked worried. “What is it?”

“You’re hurt. Your knee,” she pointed down and it had an amused expression flooding into Negan’s features. “I probably just hurt you more by having you catch me. I can’t believe…”

“Some knee pain is better than watching someone I knew and cared for smashing their skull against the cement,” Negan stepped forward to place his finger in over her lips to silence her worries. Shaking his head, he gave her a wink before letting out a long sigh. “I’m back in town visiting my mother for the holidays. It’s my second Christmas without Lucille and my mother thought it would be for the best if I came home to see my family for the holidays. And with me being injured, I thought it would be a good idea too. Come home. Rest it out.”

“That makes sense,” she acknowledged, not saying much because she didn’t want to make an ass of herself again. Things felt strange now as she rocked on her feet in front of Negan. All she could focus on was just how good he looked. Suddenly she felt very out of place knowing that she just kind of rolled out of bed this morning. “I guess I should let you get back to what you were doing. I don’t want to keep you tied up all day.”

“Well, I got here early,” Negan stated with a tip of his head, looking beyond them to see the coffee shop that was in the distance. “How about you and I get some coffee together? We can catch up a little bit before I have to head to my mother’s place?”

“I mean,” she looked back at the lights that were kind of just dangling there still. Right now she really didn’t feel like climbing back up that ladder again after almost dying. “Sure, that would be nice. Coffee sounds good.”

“Ma’am,” Negan held his arm out, a small snickering sound fell from his lips when she accepted his arm. It was as if Negan had picked up on the fact that there was a small sheet of ice over the ground and he was trying to help keep her from falling. Again. Once they got to the coffee shop, Negan held the door open for her and she was impressed with the chivalry. The only problem? When Negan entered the coffee shop, the few people that were in there went a little nuts upon seeing them. Immediately people were drawn to him and she understood why. Negan was a celebrity. And not only that, he was a hometown hero celebrity. So she took a step back while people asked for selfies with him and let it happen. Eventually he ordered his coffee and reached for her hand to pull her up beside him. “Go ahead. I’ll pay for this.”

“You don’t have to do that,” she denied at first, not wanting to seem like the kind of person that would take advantage of him. But the glare Negan gave her? She knew that one well. So she gave in. Placed her order and let him go ahead with wanting to buy her one. When the barista came back with their coffees, Negan attempted to pay, but she pushed the drinks forward to them insisting that they were on the house. With that, Negan left what he would have been paying in the tip jar and led Y/N toward the back of the coffee shop where there was a table that was hidden for them to have some privacy. “Wow, that was…”

“Intense. I’m sorry,” Negan shook his head, apologizing over the fact that people interrupted them by asking for photos. It seemed to have embarrassed him that it happened in front of her while they were together.  

It should have been something that he was proud of. Having people look up to him like that? It was a good thing. Not a bad one.

“No, don’t apologize. You worked hard for all of that. Soak it in,” she stated with a firm shake of her head, surprising him that she wasn’t at all upset about the whole thing. “It’s nice just getting to see you Negan. There is no reason for me to be upset. It’s been a long time.”

“I’m sorry about that,” Negan apologized again. It was strange how many times he had already done that since she had first seen him. And there was nothing to keep apologizing for. Stroking his hand across the top of the table, Negan seemed tense until he started speaking up again. “I have to be honest with you Y/N, I’m surprised to see you here. No one wanted to leave this town more than you did. You had dreams of the big city. I remember you wanted to travel the world, photograph it all and you wanted to be a big-time journalist.”

“Yeah, well, life has a way of making you realize that what you want isn’t always what you’re going to get,” she declared which seemed to have Negan biting at his cheek. There was an expression in his eyes that showed he had sympathy for her and she didn’t know if she wanted it. “When I had Elizabeth, the plans kind of changed. I’m just…I’m someone who does data entry at home. I get to work remote and sometimes I have to go into the office, but rarely.”

“And Elizabeth is your daughter?” Negan confirmed having Y/N nod, stroking her fingers over the paper coffee cup that her drink was in. “How old is she again?”

“Seventeen,” Y/N felt old telling Negan that, but her answer made him smile and nod. “I also have a son named Peter. He’s thirteen.”

“Peter,” Negan repeated the name, his smile expanding out over his features. “Elizabeth and Peter. Well, Joel certainly picked out those names, didn’t he?”

“What do you mean?” she half-laughed watching Negan tip his head from side to side considering his next comment.

“Well, I remember growing up what you wanted to name your children if you had any. Elizabeth and Peter were not any of the names that you wanted,” Negan recalled which had her dropping her head, a small smile tugging at her lips. Of all the things that Negan remembered, she didn’t think something like that would be something he kept with him. “What?”

“I just can’t believe you remember those conversations,” she claimed, her heart fluttering a bit that Negan still remembered so much about her. “But yeah. Those were names that Joel picked. It’s suits them though. Joel calls Elizabeth Ellie. He always has. She’s of course getting to the age where she wants to be called…”

Seeing that Negan’s attention was locked on her had her sighing loudly, “You don’t want to hear about this. I’m sorry. I’m just a boring working-class mother. I’m not interesting. At all. I wish I had the life that I wanted when I was younger so I could impress you, but I don’t.”

“Don’t say that,” Negan hushed, reaching out to place his hand in over hers. The warmth of his touch was very much welcomed, even though she didn’t know if she should be taking it or not. “I think you’re very interesting. And I’d love to hear about your children. It’s been a long time. I don’t expect you not to talk about your life to me after this long.”

“It’s just a little embarrassing to basically tell you I got pregnant the year after you graduated,” she suggested feeling the sweep of Negan’s thumb over the back of her hand. “You went out, became this huge celebrity and followed your dreams. I got pregnant at seventeen, had my baby at eighteen and I’ve just been doing my best to keep my head over the water.”

“You’re embarrassed by that?” Negan wondered seeing her shrug and he could tell that it made her uncomfortable. “Being a mother is the hardest job in the world. If you are capable of doing it? I think that’s impressive. So don’t be embarrassed. You’re not going to get me looking down on you. Ever.”

“Thank you,” she cleared her throat knowing that she felt small sitting before the man she used to consider her best friend. “I did call you a few times. Well, a very long time ago. I understand why you didn’t answer. You were busy and…”

“I should have answered,” Negan interrupted her, his thick eyebrows furrowing showing that he was disappointed with himself. “I’m sorry.”

Silence followed, her eyes looking down to see that Negan’s thumb was still caressing over the back of her hand, “I missed you.”

Something changed in Negan’s expression. He lowered his head, his fingers squeezing tighter to hers before he shrugged, “I missed you too.”

“It’s hard going through life without your best friend,” she suggested feeling a bit emotional knowing that she never really understood what happened to have Negan drop her so quickly in the past. Especially after all they had gone through. “I’m so proud of you though. You accomplished everything you wanted to. Rookie of the year? MVP how many times? You’ve done amazing, Negan.”

“And it’s all coming to an end,” Negan frowned, looking down toward his knee knowing that even though he still felt like he was capable of so much more, his body wouldn’t allow for it. Lifting Y/N’s hand up, he pressed a kiss over the back of her hand and gave her a wink. “Thank you though.”

They both went quiet. It got very serious there for a moment and Negan picked up on it when he reached with his free hand to grab his coffee to take a sip, “So what happened with Joel? I remember he got a full ride to college for the football.”

“Oh, he uh. He had to turn it down. His parents died during the summer in an accident. He had the choice of letting Tommy go into foster care or staying to take care of him and he stayed. Then I got pregnant with Elizabeth and it just didn’t work out for him,” she told Negan about their lives knowing that it was nowhere near as interesting as his life. “He just took on his dad’s business and became a contractor. He runs the business and Tommy works for him. I was a stay-at-home mom for a while until I could go to night school at college to get my degree and then my friend from college got me a job that I’ve stayed with until this day. We’re both worried about Elizabeth because she scares the hell out of us. She’s almost the age I was when I got pregnant, but she’s…she’s smarter than me. And safer. And I don’t think she’s dating anyone really. She seems to be attracted to older men, which isn’t good, but, it’s not bad either because then it means that she’s not going to get pregnant like I did and…”

Damn. She was doing it again. She was rambling. But by the look on Negan’s face, it wasn’t upsetting him. In fact, he looked enamored with her. A rush of warmth flooded into her face and she laughed, dropping her head down, “God, I’m sorry.”

“Stop,” Negan demanded with a raspy laugh himself. “I don’t mind you talking to me. It’s okay. You don’t have to think you’re talking too much. We’re fitting like, what? Nineteen years of missed time in here. So I don’t mind.”

“I know, you just are the more interesting one and here I am talking your head off,” she chastised herself which had Negan smiling. “You probably have better things to do than listen to me go off about my family and my children.”

“I don’t. And this is better than anything else I had planned,” Negan tried to suggest, squeezing her hand again reminding her all over how he had been holding onto her hand this whole time. But she kind of liked it. “I’ve picked up on the fact that your daughter has good taste. You love your kids and Joel is…an idiot.”

“Why is that?” she was amused to hear Negan say that.

“Because he’s not with you,” he countered quickly which had her feeling a sense of awe over him saying it. “I really thought the two of you would be together forever. Knowing that you’ve been apart for four years? That surprises me.”

“Well, life happens,” she didn’t know what else to say. She wasn’t about to vent to Negan just what it was that had her marriage crumbling down all around her. That wasn’t something he needed her to dump onto his lap as well. “We just became different people.”

“Hmmm…” Negan looked her over before shaking his head. “You seem still very much like you.”

“Minus the fire,” she thought aloud, noticing the way his eyebrow arched.

“Nah, that fire is there. I see it. Maybe it’s just hidden behind a few walls, but it’s there,” he winked hearing her chuckle beneath her breath before shaking her head. “Don’t think so poorly of yourself. You were always one of my favorite people Y/N. Don’t sell yourself short.”

“Negan goddamn Smith,” a voice boomed, shocking Y/N when she pulled her hand back and away from Negan who made a shocked expression looking to the side. “I thought that was you, you asshole.”

“Tommy fucking Miller,” Negan got up slowly from his seat, walking across to accept a hug from Tommy. “How are you doing brother? It’s been a long time?”

“Not as good as you,” Tommy leaned back, smacking playfully at the side of Negan’s face making him snort. “Look at how much older you look.”

“Hey now, you may have the same face, but you don’t look like the thirteen-year-old I last saw either,” Negan joked, pushing into Tommy’s shoulder. Lifting his hand up, he swirled his fingers into Tommy’s long hair. “Look at you pretty boy. Growing up into a man and everything.”

“I see Y/N found you and snatched you up,” Tommy followed Negan back over to the table, a big smile tugging at his features when he sat in beside Y/N who suddenly felt out of place. “Shit Negan. I can’t believe I’m seeing you. The big-time sport’s star that everyone in this town loves.”

“Well, I am retiring,” Negan reminded Tommy who rolled his eyes and scoffed. “I am!”

“Come on,” Tommy threw his hand up hearing Negan sigh loudly. “You are one tough son of a bitch. I’m supposed to believe that you aren’t going to nut up and just keep going?”

“As you said, I’m getting old dickhead,” Negan winked hearing Tommy burst out into laughter. There was amusement in Y/N’s features and when Negan noticed it, he gave her a big smile. “I was just catching up with Y/N here and she was telling me about the kids.”

“Did she tell you what a saint she is?” Tommy stressed, reaching out to wrap his arm around Y/N to give her a big squeeze. “This girl adopted me at eighteen. Had a baby of her own but took care of fifteen-year-old me to make sure I had a good life at home. She’s an amazing girl. A great mom and she bakes like you would not believe.”

“Oh yeah?” Negan’s interest suddenly was taken. Placing his hand over his chest, Negan made a dramatic expression. “I myself love to cook. So if someone has that same passion? Well, I’m immediately interested in learning more.”

“She’s a magic worker this one. Makes the best sugar cookies I’ve ever had,” Tommy declared with another big smile, squeezing her uncomfortably close to his chest. “I always tell Joel what an idiot he was for letting her slip through his fingers. If it wasn’t creepy, I would have gone for her because she is so special.”

“Okay Tommy. You’re laying it on thick,” she found amusement in the way that Tommy was describing her, but he didn’t care. He just gave her a small nudge with his shoulder before going back to talking with Negan.

Quickly Tommy got to talking to Negan about baseball and Negan answered his questions. Listening to them was amusing. She did actually know what they were talking about since Joel, Elizabeth and Peter all loved baseball. But instead of adding to the conversation, she just sat back and listened. Finding it cute that the two of them were eager to catch up.

After a while, Tommy looked to Y/N noticing that she was just sitting there listening to the two of them, “I reckon I just hijacked your conversation, didn’t I?”

“I’m loving it,” she stated with a small smile hearing Negan snorting and she shrugged. “I was talking too much anyways.”

“Not enough in my opinion,” Negan gave her a wink, his nose wrinkling in amusement. Taking a sip of his coffee, Negan got more comfortable in his seat and bit down on his bottom lip. “I know you know sports just as much as the boys do.”

“Yeah? So? Let Tommy get his time in with you. The boy looked up to you growing up,” she reached out to pat Tommy on the chest having his cheeks flushing over with warmth. “We’re both happy to see you, Negan.”

A vibration pulled her attention away from the two of them. Digging into her pocket, she saw that it was Elizabeth calling her and it made her sigh, “Give me a minute boys. My daughter is calling.”

Getting up from the table, she noticed that Negan’s hazel eyes followed her across the coffee shop as she made her way outside to answer her phone.

“Hey sweetheart,” she leaned back against the brick wall, letting out a long sigh. “Those photos you took looked really nice. It looks like you had fun.”

“It wasn’t so bad,” Elizabeth claimed, her young voice flooding from Y/N’s phone. “The guy they have as Santa this year is from the next town over and he was a lot of fun. I wish you would have been here with us to take the photo.”

“Me too,” Y/N was honest with her daughter. She missed doing those things as a family. It made her feel extraordinarily left out. Rosita had suggested to her in the past that she should also do photos with the children for Christmas, but part of Y/N assumed that Joel would get upset because that was his thing with them. Especially since they used to have fights like that in the beginning of their separation.

“That’s kind of why I’m calling you,” Elizabeth spoke up, taking time to explain to her mother what was on her mind. “Dad decided that we should go to that old village we used to go to when we were younger. You know the one that does the Christmas event with the fireworks? My friends were going to it and I thought it would be cool to go too.”

“Oh, that’s great honey,” Y/N commented feeling a sense of jealousy hearing that. That was another thing they did as a family. The place that Elizabeth was talking about was a place that her, Joel and Negan all worked at when they were younger to make cash on the side. So they were always going to that Christmas event with the children. Although, the last two years of their marriage, Joel had been working late on a project that had him missing it so they hadn’t really gone in over six years. “I’m glad to hear that your dad is taking you. When are you going?”

“Tonight. But, dad spoke to the guy in charge who still remembered him. So he gave dad a bunch of free tickets. We both get to bring a friend,” Elizabeth continued on, “but we have one other ticket and dad said I should call you to ask if you wanted to go.”

“Is that something your dad really wants?” Y/N inquired, surprised to hear that Joel wanted her to be involved with their Christmas activities since the previous years he made sure to leave her out.

“Well he’s the one that suggested it mom,” Elizabeth declared with a sigh and it had Y/N shifting on her feet. “Both Peter and I want you to come. This goes back to the whole being a family again thing. At least, this is the closest we can get to it being like the old days again.”

“You both begged your dad, didn’t you?” Y/N insisted hearing the silence that followed and it made her smile. “That’s a yes.”

“Well he didn’t say no,” Elizabeth pointed out with a dramatic tone. “He’s the one that insisted I call you right now so you can prepare to come with us tonight. Dad will pick you up at five, okay?”

“Yeah, okay,” Y/N smiled realizing that she wasn’t about to really be given a choice, but ultimately her choice would have been the same. She missed being with her family for Christmas, so it wasn’t like she was going to turn it down. “I’ll be ready to go by five.”

“Perfect,” Elizabeth seemed happy and excited on the other end, which was a good thing in Y/N’s mind. At least her children still wanted to spend time with her and that’s what mattered the most. “We’ll see you then. Make sure you dress warm. It’s supposed to snow tonight.”

“I will,” Y/N assured her daughter having a warmth flood her body knowing that she wouldn’t be alone tonight. The idea of going to this actually made her happy. Too often she got used to being alone, but it didn’t feel good. Now she had something to look forward to in being with her children. “I love you honey.”

“Love you too mom,” Elizabeth got out before they ended their call.

As Y/N was pushing her phone back into her pocket, she saw that Negan was walking out of the coffee shop and once his eyes locked with hers he gave her a big, charming smile.

“Got sick of Tommy?” she teased with Negan stepping before her. Having Negan leaving the coffee shop that quick shocked her. Especially since they wanted to catch up and they really hadn’t done much of it.

“Not at all. There were some people that asked for photos and then the mayor came in,” Negan pointed back toward the coffee shop. Hearing that made Y/N wonder how Tommy responded and she looked to the door to check if Tommy was coming out. “The mayor asked me to go somewhere with him to take some photos, but Tommy is talking to him right now so I figured I would find you before you could run off.”

“Well, you found me,” she gave him a half smile causing Negan’s eyebrow to arch in amusement. Disappointment flooded her veins knowing that someone else was taking Negan away from her being able to catch up with him. “What’s up?”

“I want us to spend more time together than this,” Negan announced pointing toward her pocket where she just put her phone. “I was hoping that maybe you could give me your phone, I’ll put my number in and then in two days you can let me take you to dinner. That way we can actually have time to talk. Just the two of us.”

“That’s something you want to do?” she thought aloud, almost blurting it out. Holding his hand out further, Negan waited for her to give him her phone. Obeying, she placed it in his hand drawing him to smirk. Damn, there were those dimples again. “I’m sure you’re going to be busy. You don’t have to take time for me.”

Working with her phone, Negan put in his number and then sent himself a text so he would have her number on his phone. Holding her phone out to her had Y/N accepting it and Negan cleared his throat, shifting his weight from his heels then toward the tips of his toes.

“I want to take time for you,” Negan informed her, a muscle at the corner of his jaw flexing. Hearing that actually made her happy. “I’m glad that we ran into each other.”

“Technically, I fell into your arms,” she reminded him and it had his deep raspy laughter filling the air.

“You’re not wrong,” Negan agreed, biting down on his bottom lip. Reaching back, he stroked his fingers over his neck and shrugged. “When we have our dinner, don’t be afraid to talk to me this time. I’m still Negan. Not much has changed.”

“So much has changed,” she refused that statement with a shake of her head. Parting his lips, Negan looked like he wanted to say something more, but stopped himself. A single nod from him told her that he wasn’t going to bicker with her about it. “But I will try to relax.”

“Good, because I want to listen to you talk,” Negan clarified how he felt about things, his Adam’s apple bouncing in his throat. “We used to stay up all night talking about things. And those are the days that I miss. I’d like to bring a little bit of that back into my life again.”

“I’m sure your life is filled with very interesting people,” she guessed, realizing how small she probably was in comparison to the other people that he knew in his life. It was safe to say that her self-esteem wasn’t the best right now. So selling herself short? That was something she did quite often as of the last few years.

“But none of them are you,” Negan stressed with a nod of his head. Stepping forward, Negan lowered down. Pressing in closer to her, his lips deposited a kiss against her cheek. Closing her eyes tightly, she realized that the gesture lingered. The warmth from Negan radiated against her flesh and it took her breath away. It had been so long since someone had showed her any kind of affection. Backing away slowly, Negan’s eyes gazed over her and she felt her heart skip a beat with how close he actually was to her.

“Negan,” the sound of someone calling out to him broke their attention on one another. Stealing a glance back over his shoulder, Negan feigned a smile when he realized that it was the mayor calling out to him. Looking back to Y/N, Negan felt guilty that he was taking off on her so quickly. Backstepping toward the mayor, Negan hummed to himself and pointed at her. “I’ll pick you up at eight the night we go out. And I’ll send you a text just to remind you. So you don’t forget.”

“I’ll see you then,” she responded with a shallow breath still feeling the sensation of his kiss over her cheek. When Negan left, Y/N watched Tommy push open the door of the coffee shop. He looked panicked as he headed back over toward her. “If it isn’t the man that almost killed me today.”

“I…what?” Tommy was at a loss for words when she folded her arms out in front of her chest. Even though she was happy to see him interacting with Negan like he was previously, she was still irritated with him for taking off on her earlier. While it didn’t end badly, it sure as hell could have. “You almost died?”

“I would have likely ended up in the hospital with brain damage if Negan hadn’t caught me,” she recalled and it had Tommy’s dark eyes growing wide. Her getting hurt wasn’t even a thought for him when he left earlier. “You left when I was on the ladder and it slipped.”

“I didn’t even think,” Tommy swore reaching out to place his hands in over her shoulders to try to comfort her. “I’m so sorry. I just saw Maria and I wanted to talk to her so bad.”

“I hope you at least asked her out? Because then me dying almost feels like a waste if you didn’t,” she huffed and it had the beginning of a smile tugging at Tommy’s features. By the expression over his face she could tell that he was happy which meant he did get that date. “That’s my boy.”

“I’d love to take credit for it,” Tommy moved in beside her to hook his arm around her shoulders, “but she asked me first. I was trying to ask her, but when I ran into her I think she picked up on my nervousness. We’re going to be having dinner tonight.”

“A woman that takes charge. That’s exactly what you need,” she joked with Tommy, reaching out to grab his jaw to give it a playful squeeze. “I’m going with Joel and the kids tonight to that Christmas event at the old historical village we used to work at. So we both need to get those lights up.”

“You’re going out with Joel and the kids tonight?” Tommy seemed shocked to hear that. And really? She didn’t blame him. There had been such a big wedge between her and Joel for so long that them actually spending time together with the children sounded strange. “Maybe Joel is getting his shit together after all.”

“I think the children begged him,” she wasn’t so certain that it was as much Joel wanting her there as much as it was the children irritating him to ask her. “But I’m glad I’m going because it gets lonely at night without the children there. I can only bother Rosita so many times before Siddiq gets sick of me stealing his fiancée.”

“This is a good thing,” Tommy led her back toward where they were last together noticing that the lights were just hanging from the building and he frowned. “You’re gonna make me go up there now, aren’t you?”

“I sure am,” she nodded toward the ladder hearing Tommy groan in response. “But don’t worry, unlike you, I’m not going to run away the second I get sights at something more interesting.”

----

Tags: @chainsawsangel @fancypeacepersona @violent-darkness @negansbestie @elegantfanficluv

@sanctuaryforthelost @dead-of-niight @dilfsandmartinis

[ma1dmer]

Warhammer - Tarik Torgaddon NSFW

feel like pure shit just want him back x

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex): always keeps some point of contact with you if you aren't straight up cuddling, his head on your lap or his hand on your back as you sleep on your front etc etc he is always touching you. if you need something he'll do it, but you definitely have to ask him several times to actually convince him to get up.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s): he loves your voice, everything else too obviously, he'll rush to tell you, but there is something about the way you speak, the way you use his name, the way you laugh or yell or moan or whimper. he doesn't like it when you stay silent during the deed, he is loud therefore you have to be louder. if he isn't getting concerned looks after he leaves your room when you two are done, he knows he hasn't done his job right.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically): he is filthy, he likes the mess, he likes to let it get everywhere, on your body, on his body, on your face, in your mouth, on the floor, he is not ashamed about it, the messier the better, he loves fucking your thighs for this reason as well.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs): is it a secret if he has joked about it? probably not. he absolutely has thought about sharing you with loken. he'll ask you first, ask how you feel about loken making you almost worried that you overstepped perhaps by ogling his battle brother that one time or something, he asks for you to be honest with him, his expression grim and then just as you are about to apologise, he'll grin, immediately telling you to relax and that he was just curious. he'll start bringing loken up while he fucks you, asking what you'd do or what you think his reactions would be like, almost getting off to the idea of loken as much as the idea of you with him.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?): not as much as he is pretending he has, at the end of the day he is part of the mournival, his work within the legion takes priority above all else. and even so ,if you pry and ask what type of experience he has it's all mostly one sided, letting someone use his mouth or using his hands on someone else, more often than not choosing a quickie that just didn't work out for him, considering size and prep required.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying): he likes to have you ride him, he sits back to enjoy the show, his big hands on your hips urging you to grind down against him every time he bottoms out, he'll also fuck your thighs this way, have you hold on as he pushes your legs together just to bounce you up and down on his lap.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.): he loves to joke around with you, you bet your ass he has tried telling you that damned bear story mid thrust.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.): he keeps it natural because there isn't much there to begin with, it's all very soft and the same brown of his hair.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect): even if he is more laid back than his brothers he is still equally as emotionally stunted as them, he just does a good job of hiding it all behind teasing smiles and jokes, but he has his moments, when he's been gone for a long time, when something is troubling him, when a mission went wrong etc. he's holding you a bit tighter, mumbling things into your hair as he pins your down, urging you to hold him as well, he won't tell you what is bothering him, so he hopes this makes up for it. hopes this is enough for you to understand.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon): be puts on a show, slowly spreading his thighs, leaning back on the bed, uses both hands, one to cup his balls or run up and down his toned body, the other working on his cock, his hold loose enough that you know for a fact he isn't really getting off to it, it's mostly done to goad you into action, throwing his head back moaning loudly. once he figures out he can have a warm body to satisfy his needs he finds jacking off so boring and pointless, he'll do it just to tease you or if you ask him to.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks): threesomes, oral fixation, cum/spitplay etc

L = Location (favorite places to do the do): if he knows he can get away with it, and trust that he will, he'll try just about anywhere. he finds he really enjoys places where there is the possibility of getting caught by another astartes, not so much by serfs, or other baseline humans.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going): he is totally the, you look so hot when you are angry guy and it's something you sadly have to deal with.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs): there isn't much out there he would be against at least trying once, especially if he sees they get a rise out of you, he is very very giving.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.): ride his face, he doesn't even need to get out of his armor for this. set your own pace and don't hold back. if he thinks you are going easy on him he'll grab you to grind you on his face himself.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.): fast, he isnt rough, but he is overwhelming and relentless, once he finds what spot that makes you tick he is on it with a fervor that makes you shake, he'll have you scrambling for purchase on the sheets and trying to both push off and pull his hands on you, in seconds.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.): he knows they aren't convenient for multiple reasons, but he tries ,he really tries to sneak them in every so often, it's almost like a game to him. it's enough if you get off, your back against the wall, one leg thrown over his shoulder, on his knees in his armor bent awkwardly to take you in his mouth before he has to leave for a mission, it's difficult to deny him when he makes such a convincing argument.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.): he is game for almost everything, it's almost a test, he wants to see what you are capable of throwing at him and what he can handle.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?): he has the energy to go for a long long time but he prefers to keep your meet ups short (for him) and sweet, he claims it's to make sure you don't get tired of him and bed someone else while he is gone, you aren't sure if he is joking or not.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?): not a fan of them, it comes with that space marine pride that gets oh so easily wounded at the idea of not being enough, which is frankly an insane thought.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease): a big fucking tease and unrelenting at that, he'll deny you your release a million times and still remain simply unmovable and amused at your squirming, he'll keep going until you are begging or yelling at him. he'll take either option.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.): he talks, from filthy comments about how well you are taking him, how he is probably ruining you for any other baseline man, to fuelling your shared fantasies, to simply bringing up a story so he can watch you grow frustrated and try to struggle against him, this man does not shut up, but he loves to have you shut him up, put your hands over his mouth, pull him in for a kiss, anything like that and he throbs inside of you.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character): he is definitely the one to go for if you are interested in exploring some different power dynamics with a very large very strong man. he might make fun of you at first, how many people would love to be ravaged by the strong and heroic astartes and yet you are here asking him to kneel and beg for you...he will definitely think about it and when he agrees, boy does he beg prettily, he seemingly gets off to his own submission more than you do.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes): long and it curves up towards his stomach a bit, paler than the rest of him, more of a shower rather than a grower.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?): he is not as direct as his brothers surprisingly enough, he teases you from the get go, the second you have his attention he is flirting and joking around with you and you are never quite sure if he means it or not. he actually wants to be the one to be approached by you and that little dynamic stays even as your relationship progresses. he wants you to be the one to seek him out most of the time. it really strokes his ego.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards): he has no qualms about falling asleep before you, he only has a few hours to properly rest, he'll enjoy them to their fullest even if you are next to him still wide awake. he is very clingy too, get's genuinely irritated with you if you move away while he is asleep.

[foodtruckery]

ive returned because your writing haunts me and i need to dig into your brain about combat baby idk how deeply youve thought about like. the whole extent of this au so if im asking about stuff that you dont want to focus on for it forgive me but im so curious how do things go down with bill?? like hes still an issue here do they just try the unicorn hair and stan scams his way through (and ford is so shocked and lowkey turned on impressed they bang after) or with everything else happening does ford (stupid genius he is) just sort of forget bill can still enter stan's dreams even if hes got the metal plate and stans like "hey why am i dreaming about a dorito obsessed with your portal"

and im guessing ford would not be down to make his home a tourist trap so do you think stan would just help with the research? or would his insecurities about being dead weight to ford push him to try and find his own way of income?

and and what about the town?? do they have to awkwardly pretend theyre father and son or uncle and nephew or something? because sure they could pretend theyre not related but they still look pretty similar. ford just looks like an older, nerdier stan so i think that would be people's first assumption (ford seething quietly as susan flirts with stan. stan just thinks fords feeling uncomfortable in town because hes a hermit until theyre alone and they have a repeat of their highschool days with ford hissing in his ear and demanding to know what he was expecting to happen with susan. stan trying to answer but hes a little distracted at the time)

and also with ford being back would they ever run into fiddleford again? either him in his cult days or maybe already halfway to losing his mind. depending on where he is mentally im sure the interaction could be either pretty hostile or sympathetic

ive grabbed you by the ankles and am attempting to shake you upside down to try and empty your pockets for scraps of this au because it consumes me

-🐶

waaaaaah thanks for being patient with me friend! you know i ALWAYS love to see you with the big fuckin questions and ideas. and i have been THINKING about this one cause, tbh, i finished combat baby in a couple of days and went “GET OUT OF MY SIGHT” and threw it at y’all and did not think much about it after that! until i came over here and started chatting with y’all at least hahaha.

the bill issue is like a whole thing right? and i was definitely wondering how the time travel on one side but not the other might impact him/slow him down. but i also do think it’d be kind of fucking hilarious if stan starts dreaming about bill but like. doesn’t say anything and doesn’t even think it’s a big deal because. you know. they’re just weird dreams. and at this point, stan’s done enough drugs and been through the ringer with stress and shit that it doesn’t even occur to him to question having bizarre dreams about some little geometric freak trying to be nice to him. whaaat? a MATH SHAPE for fucking NERDS in a gay little sweater vest BOW TIE is COMPLIMENTING him in his dreams???

as far as stan’s concerned, his subconscious got REALLY hung up on the whole “ford said some nice shit to me while we were fucking” and just hasn’t let that go yet. which i think would also drive bill up the fucking wall. like stan would have been the harder nut to crack regardless, but to keep getting accused of being stan’s mental manifestation of his brother fucking praise kink???? (which of course invites the whole question of bill going fuck it, and just leaning into that, but i don’t think he’d be as adept that mimicking ford for stan as he was at mimicking stan for ford, so)

ngl, i do love the unicorn hair play, tho. fun fact! i have no idea if i’ll actually write it or not, but i’ve toyed with the idea of doing a role reversal with ford coming back out of the portal still in this 30’s and finding stan and everything else having moved forward 30 years. and the unicorn hair felt like a good way to potentially address the Bill Issue i was getting stopped up on there! but like. i also could absolutely see older!ford convincing stan to wear a collar necklace of unicorn hair to keep bill out of his head.

but i loooooove the idea of them getting mixed up with fiddleford’s cult shit. i don’t even know wtf i’d DO with that but conceptually i love it. cause they’re starting to keep an eye on the townspeople, right? and even if stan’s come up with some kinda story to explain there being kinda sorta two of them now, he wouldn’t know not to be outspoken about the other weird shit happening in town. y’know, on top of being some of the weird shit happening in town. something something, stan getting snatched like lazy susan did over the gnome incident, but ayyye that shit hits really fucking wrong when you’ve actually been kidnapped in the past already and had to chew your way out of a fucking car to get free. i think that’s be neat!!

and especially if we consider fidds being maybe already just shade too far gone, enough that running into stan or having him dragged into the cult would confuse the fuck out of him. because that’s stanford, right? it has to be, he’s coming in and out of stanford’s house, he looks like stanford with a few questionable fashion and hygiene choices — but then again, stanford hadn’t been in great shape the last time he’d shown his face outside of the cabin, either. but his hands are wrong. his hands are wrong and he can’t be stanford but then why does he look like him? easy solution: everybody gets their memory wiped.

something something, stan may not know where the fuck he is, but he knows coming to in a room full of shady guys he doesn’t recognize is either gonna end with him losing teeth or a little bit of dignity, and he’d like to hold on to his teeth a little longer.

[dirtytransmasc]

atwow hot take:

if jake had said his "son for a son" shit out loud and spider had heard him, he would have been so beyond pissed, he would be seeing red.

spider loved his little siblings so much, neteyam included, even after they grew apart. he loved them like they were his own blood and protected them like they were too (we see a lot more of them together in the comics, where spider is the big brother without a doubt). neteyam's death most certainly rocked him hard, even if he hasn't really been able to show it (how could he? he's already going through all the shit with his dad and the RDA and their nonsense, he can't grieve around neytiri, he's just so tired after it all. he doesn't have the room or the energy to grieve yet)

so if jake had the audacity to say that to/around spider not even a few hours after he watched his little brother get shot after coming to save him, after he stared at the bullet hole in his back, after he watched him take his last breaths, after he watched the light leave his eyes, after he watched his little brother die for him; if he said that while his little brother's body lay in a pool of his own blood not even ten feet away, not even cold yet, blood still clinging to his chest, the scent of it still filling the air: he would have lost his shit.

because the disrespect for his brother is wild.

jake was an active player in spider's neglect and abuse for the last 16 years, he let it happen, he helped it happen. he tried to send spider with the humans, tried to take him away from his siblings, from the forests, from eywa to live with his foster family that didn't love him (not to mention Nash was an asswipe of epic proportions) and the RDA of all people. he had referred to spider as a stray animal since he was little. he was the reason spiders life was hell.

and after all that, years and years of putting him in shit positions and allowing him to suffer the fate of being forever unloved and uncared for (by an adult authority figure, cause I love the kids, but they don't make up for the gap left by a parent), this is what it took for jake to care about him? his little brother had to die in front of him first? he had to be traded out to fill the space of a corpse, to fill in the gap left by his little brother's death?

in canon, spider was in deep in shock with nothing to break him from it, he wasn't in the place to really think about any of it, and I'm sure we're gonna see this anger in the coming movies, but if jake had said it out loud, that would have been enough to snap spider right out of it, and he would have given jake a piece of his mind, I just know it.

[dent-de-leon]

help I just remembered Taliesin asked if Mollymauk would have set off Caduceus' Detect Undead--that he always thought Molly would, and was genuinely surprised when Matt told him no....

Taliesin Axelrod Jaffe were you ever going to share that you thought Mollymauk Tealeaf had been undead this whole time--

[lilcathsmith]

Greg in every episode of CSI (139/328) • Post-Mortem •

[gaylos-lobos]

like i think the insane thing about the episode is how it continued to push the collector-luz, luz-philip and philip-collector parallels throughout it to then just hand wave it, like why do ALL THAT and then just drop it? like why put so much focus on it and then just, nothing?

[insanechayne]

~ ~ ~

[menagerofmischief]

she's everything, he's max (mv33)

summary: y/n leclerc starts soft launching a man and soon enough there are paparazzi pictures of the two of them except no one quiet believes that the princess of monaco would settle down with ... max!

max verstappen x leclerc!reader -> smau

cw: some google translated french, my first attempt at a smau, inchident jokes, charles gets bullied

a/n: max won over franco by a few percent and I know there was a lot of people interested in seeing this with franco as well. I'd love to do something with franco so feel free to request it.

yourusername: monaco you were beautiful! I'm so proud of my brother for finally achieving his dream and winning home - love you Cha!

tagged: charles_leclerc, scuderiaferrari

liked by: arthur_leclerc, maxverstappen1, alexandrasaintmleux ...

comments:

charles_leclerc: je t'aime petite soeur

charles_leclerc: you could have at least posted a picture of me to celebrate my win

-> yourusername: don't be ridiculous cha, I have a reputation to uphold -> carsgovrom: turns out appearing on his sisters instagram is a harder feat than breaking the monaco curse -> lechair16: of course it is, mother has a refined feed

maxverstappen1: he's come a long way since the inchident liked by yourusername

charles_leclerc: get out of here

alexandrasaintmleux: <3

yourusername: <3

user366: anyone else notice that max's been in the likes for a while now

user374: he also commented user366: call me crazy but something may be going on here user422: you're crazy

user993: mother is mothering again

yourusername: celebrating in style

liked by: charles_leclerc, maxverstappen1, alexandrasaintmleux ...

comments:

maxverstappen1: charles_leclerc what's that in the second picture?

charles_leclerc: get out of my sisters comments, sid user778: lmao not charles using the max looks like sid meme user801: he didn't come to play

charles_leclerc: betrayal absolute betrayal!

charles_leclerc: first the redbull picture charles_leclerc: AND THEN A MAN charles_leclerc: delete this

arthur_leclerc: say hi to your friend ;)

charles_leclerc: he knows but I don't!!! I can not believe this blashphemy yourusername: he says hi back! yourusername: alexandrasaintmleux come take him away alexandrasaintmleux: consider it done

userus: do the monaco royals know mother is serving the public more than they ever could

user366: can he fight?

maxverstappen1: yes user366: I'm going crazy

f1wags: last night in monaco, y/n leclerc (charles leclerc's sister) was spotted on a dinner with current f1 world champion, max verstappen. after leaving the restaurant the two were pictures kissing and walking intimately. are we getting a new wag in the paddock?

comments:

user366: and they said I was crazy!

user422: sorry girl

user1020: y'all are believing this? why would she date him?

user7789: I'm supposed to believe max pulled THE y/n?

charles_leclerc: oh!

user880: ariana what are you doing here!?

maxssssv: charles commented, it's gotta be real

userrrr: until mother confirms I refuse to believe she's dating .... him

maxverstappen1: family time

liked by: yourusername, victoriaverstappen, charles_leclerc

comments:

user7741: does he really think he's fooling anyone with that soft launch?

uswws: oh he's kinda cute actually

user7755: this is the guy who dating Y/N LECLERC?!

charles_leclerc: tell y/n to call me back, I'm not mad I just want to talk

alexandrasaintmleux: he's mad arthur_leclerc: don't call him back charles_leclerc: I see how it is

f1addict: charles basically confirmed it, right?

yourusername: another trophy on the shelf and another great race! couldn't be prouder of you or happier to call you mine. je t'aime max

tagged: maxverstappen1

comments:

charles_leclerc: ..... this is embarrassing, take it down

charles_leclerc: you never post pictures of me but he gets a whole post!?

charles_leclerc: don't bother coming over, leo already has a better aunt

maxverstappen1: I love you schatje

user366: crazy! I was crazy once

user122: I know she's astronomically out of his league but they're cute

user1010: no because finally someone said it! I ship it

lechair16: I'm only in the comments to see charles going mad atp

maxverstappen1: happy 1 year, schatje! I love you more than words can describe, you have made every day of my life better since the moment you came to talk to me after your brother ruined my race, and now you're the person I dedicate every race win to. ik houd van je

tagged: yourusername

liked by: arthur_leclerc, alexandrasaintmleux, yourusername ...

comments:

yourusername: aw max! I love you so much!

arthur_leclerc: my sister's crying now, great job mate

arthur_leclerc: jokes aside, very happy for you two

charles_leclerc: fine! I guess you can stay

charles_leclerc: if you must.... charles_leclerc: but if you hurt my sister I won't hesitate to launch operation inchident 2.0 maxverstappen1: noted

yourusername: here you go - welcome to the feed

tagged: charles_leclerc

liked by: maxverstappen1, alexandrasaintmleux, arthur_leclerc

comments:

user001: be honest, was posting charles a condition for him to accept max?

yourusername: yes

charles_leclerc: hey, we said good pictures!

yourusername: I happen to think you look really good in these pictures maxverstappen1: one would say, you've never looked so good charles_leclerc: you're on thin ice sid

load more comments ...

[hintsofhoney]

Ladies With Experience

Paring(s): Dean Winchester x F!Reader

Summary: When Dean makes an off-handed comment about "preferring ladies with experience", you try (and fail) to not let it get under your skin. You're a virgin, but you've done just about everything else, and when you talk to Dean about it, he offers to be your first. He's your best friend, and you've been in love with him forever... who are you to deny him?

Tags: smut, first time, virgin!reader, dom/sub dynamics, dom!dean, p in v, oral (female receiving), spanking, fingering, not-so-innocent reader

Word Count: 5k

A/N: As always, thank you to my loves @wayward-dreamer and @makeadealwithdean for beta-ing. Would be nowhere without you two 🥰

You can also read me on Ao3!

DEAN WINCHESTER MASTERLIST | SUPERNATURAL MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST

“Anyways, let’s say you’re right, fine. Who would want virgins?”

You know Sam didn’t mean it like that , and you felt stupid for letting it bother you. For letting this case bother you.

“You got me,” Dean replied with a shrug. “I prefer ladies with experience.” 

And there it was, like a punch straight to the gut. You hated that it hurt you as much as it did. So what, you’ve never had sex. But you’ve done almost everything else. You knew what you liked and what you didn't. You’ve been around the block a few times with the various sex toys in your nightstand drawer. It’s not like you weren’t experienced at all . But that didn’t make Dean’s words hurt any less. You swallowed down the burger and fries from lunch that were threatening to come up, before standing up from your seat at the small motel room table. 

The brothers looked at you, eyebrows raised.

“I — bathroom,” you managed, before quickly making your way there, slamming the door shut behind you. 

Staring at your reflection in the dirty bathroom mirror, you let the tears fall. Silently, you wiped them away as Dean’s words echoed in your head, and you hated that you loved him. Hated that you’d never be ballsy enough to admit it to him, especially now.

Something like five minutes passed and you knew you didn’t have long before one of the boys — likely Sam — would come knocking to check on you. You flushed the unused toilet so they wouldn’t suspect anything and turned on the faucet, splashing your tear-soaked face with cold water before using a hand towel to wipe it dry. When you emerged, the guys were packing up their duffels.

“Did you find them?” you asked, hopeful.

Dean checked his gun, before flipping the safety on and stuffing it in the back waistband of his jeans. 

“I sure as hell hope so, ‘cause if I’m about to crawl through the goddamn sewers for nothing —”

“They’re down there, Dean,” Sam replied, giving him a pointed look. He turned his attention to you, and if he had noticed anything off, he hadn’t let his face show it. “You coming?”

You grabbed your gun off the dresser and holstered it in reply.

Six hours later, the three of you were sweaty, panting, and splattered in blood after a close fight with dragons in the sewers. Thankfully, you hadn’t had to wade in any actual sewage. You hadn’t said a word to either brother since you had gone to the bathroom six hours ago, and to keep them from growing suspicious of your sudden silence, you opted to take a nap in the backseat of the Impala on the way back to the motel. 

You stirred awake as Dean pulled into the parking lot, barely conscious enough to catch the end of the brothers’ conversation.

“I’ll get her,” Dean said. 

Sam nodded and got out of the car, gently closing the passenger side door before heading inside. 

You rubbed your eyes, blinking away the sleep in them as Dean’s face came into focus. He was looking at you over his shoulder, one arm resting on the top of the front bench seat. 

“Mornin’, sunshine.”

It took a moment for the feeling you had been filled with prior to your nap to come back to you, his words from earlier echoing in your head. I prefer ladies with experience . You shot him a cold glare.

“Alright. What’d I do?” he asked, turning in his seat to better angle himself towards you. 

The question caught you off guard.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You haven’t said a word since we left for that hunt, Y/N.”

“How do you know Sam didn’t do something?”

He replied with a knowing look.

You stared at your hands, clasped together in your lap, and muttered, “It’s nothing. Stupid.”

“C’mon, talk to me,” he urged.

You hated this. How easy he was to talk to. How you had always been able to tell him what was on your mind.

But not this . You couldn’t tell him this. 

You shook your head. 

“Hey,” he said softly, shifting in his seat. He was fully turned around now, reaching out to tilt your chin up, forcing you to look at those green eyes. “Talk to me,” he repeated, no room for argument in his words.

“I can’t,” you whispered. You wanted to throw up. He was your best friend, and you were utterly, irrevocably, head-over-heels in love with him. He preferred girls with experience, and you had none. Not in the way that it mattered. And he had known that, thanks to a late-night stake-out game of Never Have I Ever . 

His jaw clenched. “You can tell me anything, you know that.”

You briefly met his gaze. You couldn’t hold it for long. 

“Was it something I said?” he prodded. 

You stared at the buttons of his open flannel, your eyes quickly darting up to meet his in silent confirmation. 

He sighed, pulling his hand away from your face and folding his arms on top of the backseat, resting his chin on his forearm.

“Do I at least get a hint?”

“Dean, I —”

“C’mon, Y/N. You’ve never not told me anything.”

“Why are you pushing this?”

“Because I can’t stand not talking to you.”

Your heart leaped at that confession, however innocent it might have been. 

“I’m talking to you now, aren’t I?”

“Because I’m making you. You would have silent treatmented me into next week.”

You didn’t respond.

He sighed again, defeated. “Y/N, c’mon. Please? Whatever I said, I’m sorry. I’m sure I didn’t mean it.”

“You didn’t mean that you ‘prefer girls with experience’?” you retorted quite sassily. The question tumbled out before you even had time to think of the implication that came with asking it. 

Dean opened and closed his mouth like a damn fish. 

“Thought so.” You began to move to make your way out of the car, when Dean reached out and grabbed your wrist.

“No,” he finally said. “I didn’t mean it.”

“It’s okay if you do. I told you, it was a dumb thing to be upset about.”

“No, it’s not. I didn’t stop to think about how this case might have been affecting you. You know I wouldn’t have let anything happen to you, right?” 

You swallowed, nodded. His hand felt like fire around your wrist.

“But for what it’s worth, I wasn’t serious. I don’t prefer anyone one way or the other. Sex is sex. If anyone’s willing to have it with me, I consider myself lucky.”

“Romantic,” you quipped.

A smile tugged at his lips. “I could show you, y’know.”

You almost threw up right there in the backseat. Your eyes grew wide.

“What?” you croaked.

“Well, if you’re worried about not having any experience… I just mean I’d be happy to, y’know. Show you the ropes.”

“… Of sex?” Really, you thought it was cute that he had this misconception of you. You knew about the ropes. You’d just never been tied up with them. 

“Of whatever you want.”

“You think I want to have sex with you?” It came out harsher than you meant it to, like part of you still thought you could hide the fact that you were in love with him. Like if you just joked it off it would go away, and you wouldn’t have to cross this line with him, even though you so badly wanted to. But you had to protect yourself, your heart. 

You didn’t miss the flash of hurt in his eyes.

“No, that’s not what I —”

You suddenly felt the need to clarify your question.

“No, I — I didn’t mean it like that either.”

Dean’s face morphed into one of confusion. “…So you do want to have sex with me?”

Your cheeks flushed red, and your throat bobbed. “Uh…”

“Forget it, stupid question, you don’t have to an—” 

“Yeah,” you answered, your voice barely above a whisper. Fuck it. Who were you to hold yourself back from the one thing you’ve been wanting for years? You cleared your throat. “Yeah, I really, really do.”

Dean’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline. “Seriously?”

“Oh, cut the shit, Dean. Like you’re surprised. Everyone wants to have sex with you.”

He scoffed. “ Everyone , Y/N, really?”

“There are literally smutty fanfictions written about you,” you replied, reaching into your back pocket for your phone, dead set on proving your point. 

“Gross. And Becky doesn’t count as everyone.”

“Actually, Becky only writes for Sam.”

You realized what you said at the same time he did, and he eyed you suspiciously.

“Why do you know that?”

God dammit. “I don’t. I mean — I — like, she obviously loves Sam. So, like, she wouldn’t write porn about you. Obviously.”

“Uh huh…” There was an uncomfortable silence for a beat or three. And then, “How much smut have you read about me?”

Your face felt like it had just been rinsed with fucking lava, and you knew it probably looked as red as it, too. 

“None!” you exclaimed, way too quickly. 

Dean smirked. “You do really wanna have sex with me,” he remarked, like he couldn’t believe it.

“Trust me, the urge is fading by the second.”

His grin disappeared almost instantly. “Would it help if I told you that I think about fucking you all the time, too?”

“Well, I don’t think about it all the —”

“Y/N.” He said your name like a warning, and the tone of his voice settled right in your core. 

“Yeah,” you squeaked. “Yeah, that helps.”

“Good,” he smirked, before grabbing his phone from beside him. 

“Uh… What are you doing?” You watched as he scrolled for a second, pressing a button before putting the phone to his ear.

“Telling Sammy to beat it.”

Your eyes grew wide. “What!?” you whisper-yelled. “No! Just — we can just do it back here!”

He gave you a pointed look. “I’m not taking your virginity in the backseat of my car, Y/N.”

“Why not!?”

“Because we’re not sixteen, for one. And for two… I wanna make it special.” He rushed the last bit out, like he was embarrassed to say it. And he should be. You cringed as you heard it. 

“Oh my God,” you began.

“Shut up.”

“You did not just say that.”

“Shut up. Sam, answer your phone, God dammit!”

“I have done, like, almost everything else, you know. In the backseats of many, many cars. You don’t need to make it special for me, Deano,” you teased. 

“For the last time, shut your mouth, or I’m gonna shut it for you,” he said, the look he gave letting you know he wasn’t in the mood to play. No, he wanted to fuck you. Beyond that, he wanted to dominate you. And you were more than happy to submit.

You might have been a virgin physically, but mentally? Mentally, you’d probably give Dean a run for his money. 

Sam didn’t answer. Naturally. He was probably in the shower, but you were kind of grateful because as much as you wanted Dean, you didn’t want to make Sam uncomfortable. Or worse, give him any reason to give you the talk . Because he totally would. After trying his brother two more times, Dean decided it would be better to just get a room of your own, and you were much happier with that decision. 

You watched as he unlocked the door, pushing it open and stepping aside, gesturing for you to go ahead. 

“Ladies first.”

“You mean you’re not gonna carry me over the threshold?” you joked. “Thought you wanted to make this special .”

He gave you an unamused look, and you shot back a sarcastic closed-mouth smile before you were being swept off of your feet and over his shoulder faster than you could process.

“Dean!” you squealed, as he carried you through the doorway, kicking the door shut behind him before practically throwing you onto the bed.

He was hovering over you seconds later, his face a few inches from yours, and the mood shifted from playful to serious.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” he asked.

You nodded, your fingers coming up to play with the collar of his flannel.

“If I tell you something, you promise you won’t make fun of me?” you questioned, your eyes glued to the plaid pattern on his shirt.

“Promise.”

“I was kinda… holding out for you.” You drew your eyes up to meet his.

“Seriously?” he asked, half laughing. You could tell it wasn’t because he thought it was funny. It was because he couldn’t believe it.

You swallowed nervously, nodding again as you stared into those green eyes, and you hoped that this meant as much to him as it did to you. Something told you it did.

“I wasn’t kidding, you know,” he said.

You tilted your head in question.

“About making it special for you. I know it’s like, the grossest thing I could have possibly said but, you deserve so much better than me, and so if —”

“There’s no one better for me, you idiot.” And you almost told him everything. That you’ve been in love with him ever since you met one summer at Bobby’s, back when you were just kids. That everything felt like it led up to this moment. That you wanted him to fuck you and make love to you all at once. That you didn’t want this to be the only time he did. But instead, you grabbed his face in your hands and pulled him towards you, your lips meeting in a kiss that felt like it could have powered an entire country’s electric grid. 

He deepened it, and the two of you were nothing but tongues and teeth and lips — it wasn’t sexy. It was hungry. Starved, more like. Like he had been thinking about kissing you just as long as you had been thinking about him. 

You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling his hips down towards your denim-covered core, down until you felt the hardness underneath his jeans pressed up against the spot where you needed him most, down until you couldn’t help but grind against it. He moaned as he kissed you, so you did it again. And again. And again. And —

“You need to stop that.” It wasn’t a suggestion. It was a command. You noticed that your arms were above your head, his hands pinning your wrists against the mattress. You don’t know when that happened, but you weren’t complaining. In fact, it spurred you on. 

You smiled mischievously and rutted against him once more. 

“What’re you gonna do about it, Winchester?”

He dropped his forehead to yours, steadying his breaths.

“I can fuck you like it’s your first time, or I can fuck you how I actually want to.”

“And how’s that?”

He took a shaky breath, like he was actually having a hard time controlling himself. You felt a sense of pride shoot through you at that.

“Like the fucking brat you are.”

You almost came from that alone. 

Wanna know some common misconceptions about virgins? That they don’t have kinks. That they don’t watch porn. That they don’t have a plethora of sex toys  in their nightstand. That they sit and crochet in their convent dorm room all day. Sure, you were years past the age when girls typically lose their virginity, but you were no saint. In fact, you enjoyed being quite the opposite. And you enjoyed being put in your place. 

“Do your worst.”

It was like something in him snapped. His eyes were lust-blown and hungry and you didn’t miss the way his jaw ticked, and then he was undressing you so fast that you could’ve been part of a quick change act. He muttered something about a light system as he took off your clothes, and you nodded in a way that let him know that you already knew how all of that worked. 

When you were down to just a black lace bra and panties, he paused as his fingers hooked under your waistband. He stared at you, his expression serious, and you knew that he was going to give you one more warning. One more opportunity to say, “Actually, I’d like to have a totally normal, non-kinky, first time experience, please.” But that wasn’t what you wanted. 

“You sure you know what you’re asking for?”

You rolled your eyes. “I trust you. Put me in my goddamn place, Winchester. You’ve only been wanting to do it for the past two hours.”

“Oh, I’ve been waiting to do it for a lot longer than that, sweetheart.”

“Really?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh, yeah,” he replied, huffing a small laugh before pulling off your panties in one swift motion. His hands came to rest on your bare thighs as he locked his eyes with yours. “Any hard limits?”

You shook your head. “I trust you. I mean, like, don’t pee on me or —”

“Not gonna happen. But… most everything else?”

“Dean,” you began, looking at him pointedly, “I trust you. If it helps, I’ve used like, toys on myself before. And I don’t mean just a vibrator, I mean like… well, you get the gist.”

“So I don’t have to go easy on you, is what you’re saying?”

“Put me in my place,” you repeated.

“Alright,” he replied, his hands gripping the underside of your thighs as he roughly pushed them apart, “but just so we’re clear, that’s the last order you’ll be giving tonight.”

Your throat bobbed and you nodded. “Yes, Sir.” 

You meant it as a joke, but it didn’t come out that way. No, the title came out in a way that made his jaw clench and his eyes darken and it stoked the fire raging in your core. 

Dean didn’t waste any more time talking after that, his tongue moving through your folds seconds later, drawing gasps and soft moans from your lips. You arched into him, your hands in his hair, silently begging for more. It wasn’t the first time a man had gone down on you, but it was the first time it felt like this . 

He pinned your hips down to the bed with one hand splayed over your abdomen and then his tongue was inside you and “eating you out” didn’t come close to describing his ministrations. He was devouring you like his life depended on it, like the sounds you were making were a goddamn Zeppelin song that he wasn’t anywhere near done listening to. And then he added a finger, and then another, and it didn’t matter how many times you had imagined him doing this while you had your own fingers inside you — nothing would have prepared you for how good the real thing felt.

“Oh — fuck,” you gasped, and he chuckled into your sex and you had to actively think about not coming on his face and ending this whole experience early. 

“You’re close,” he observed, flicking his tongue over your clit as he continued to pump his fingers in and out, and it was so fucking hot how he just knew that. It was like he had been fucking you for years, the way he knew your body, your tells.

You nodded. “Mmhm,” you confirmed, unable to form words with the way the coil in your abdomen was tightening. 

“Hold it,” he ordered.

Your eyes shot open, because it wasn’t the command you were expecting, and you tried to lift your head to shoot him a cold glare but you couldn’t. And he just kept pumping, flicking, licking, chuckling — fucking asshole.

“Mm — fuck — please!” you cried out.

“When you come tonight, it’s gonna be on my cock. So hold it.”

You didn’t think you could. You had played this game with yourself and your vibrator and your self-control was majorly lacking and God his mouth and fingers felt so fucking good and you were there, the coil wound so goddamn tight, it would take nothing for you to let it snap, and then — 

He stopped.

He pulled his mouth away from your core, his fingers out of your pussy, and you were writhing underneath him, because you had been right there and you needed him to be touching you again right the fuck now.

You whined.

He spanked your pussy. Not hard or anything, just enough to see if it was okay with you, and fuck, was it. 

“Stop whining,” he demanded. He positioned himself so he was hovering over you again, his face inches away from yours as he stared into your eyes. “Or I’ll give you something to whine about.”

You were curious as to what that something would be, but sensed that right now wouldn’t be the best time for that question. You nodded instead.

“Good girl.” He smiled when he said it, like he knew exactly what those two words would do to you. 

You squirmed underneath him, it had been too long since he’d last touched you. Too long being thirty seconds at most, but still. It had felt like hours.

“Has anyone ever told you,” he began, dipping his head to place a soft kiss on your collarbone, “that you are very,” another kiss to the other side, “very,” one more to the middle of your chest, “impatient?” He slowly pulled down the left cup of your bra, your breast spilling out of it. “Makes me wanna take my time.” 

His eyes stayed glued to yours as his head moved down to your hardened nipple, taking it into his mouth at a goddamn snail’s pace. You arched your back, and he let you this time, chuckling at how easy it was to make your body react. His other hand slipped underneath you, unclasping your bra in a way that reminded you that he had a lot of experience doing so, and you refused to water the seed of jealousy that had sprouted from the thought. It didn’t matter that he had done this a million times. All that mattered was that he was doing it now, with you. 

He pulled your bra off and threw it haphazardly over his shoulder, and you were suddenly very aware of the fact that you were completely naked, and he still had 87 fucking layers on, the outermost of which was still speckled with dragon blood, and it’s not that you were anywhere near clean, but you certainly didn’t want those clothes touching your bare skin.

“Dean?” you rasped, and he pulled away from your nipple to give you his full attention.

“You okay, sweetheart? Do you want to st—”

“No! God, no. It’s just —” you sighed, exasperated. This was dumb. You were going to stop him for this? Your eyes landed on a spot of blood on the shoulder of his flannel. Yes, yes you were, because that’s gross. “It’s just that your clothes are covered in monster blood and I’m like, totally naked, and I don’t want —”

He chuckled like you were the most adorable thing he’d ever seen. “I gotchya, baby.”

Baby. Baby ? You tried not to overthink the pet name as he climbed off the bed to take his clothes off, watching you the entire time. Sweetheart, you’d been called a million times. He called everyone sweetheart. But baby? Baby was his car, and no one else. Unless, that’s what you were to him now. His, and no one else’s. You filed the thought away under “Things to Think About After You Lost Your Virginity to Dean Winchester”.

He was in nothing but his boxers now, his cock already hard underneath them, and you bit your lip as he hooked his thumbs under the waistband and slid them off. And then, there he was, exactly like you’d imagined him but also better, because this was real and happening. You gaped at him, at his size. He wasn’t any bigger than the fake one you had in your nightstand, but that one was nine inches and you could never fit it all the way in. He was perfect. All of him. 

“You okay?” he asked again, crawling back onto the bed.

“Mhm,” you managed, gulping.

He was on top of you again, his forearm holding up his weight as his free hand came to grab your thigh, hooking it over his hip and leaning down to kiss you. You could feel him against your core, his cock moving between your folds as he moved his hips, teasing you with it. 

“Dean,” you breathed.

“Hm?”

“I want…” you couldn’t find it in yourself to finish your request.

“I know, sweetheart,” he whispered.

You decided you liked “baby” better. 

“Please.”

“I thought you wanted me to put you in your place?”

You shook your head. “N-next time. Just, please .”

His eyebrows shot up, and you realized what you had said. 

“Next time, huh?” he asked, with that shit-eating grin of his. 

You rolled your eyes. He stopped moving, the smile wiped off his lips as he gripped you underneath your chin, somewhere between rough and gentle, the look on his face telling you he wasn’t messing around. 

“Roll your eyes at me again, and next time I’ll really do my worst.”

You bit back a smile, and you just knew he was thinking, Brat. But you asked your question anyway.

“But not this time?” There was a devilish gleam in your eyes. You were tempting him, and he knew it.

“Do you ever get tired of being such a brat?” 

“Dunno,” you shrugged. “Do you ever get tired of it?” 

His jaw tensed, and he forced a sardonic, closed-lip smile. “Nothing I can’t handle.”

“Hm. But not this time, right?”

“Y/N —” he warned.

“Afraid you’re gonna hurt me? Scare me? What’s really keeping you from putting me in my place… Sir?”

For the second time that night, something in him snapped. You yelped as he flipped you over and grabbed your hips, dragging them upwards so your ass was in the air and your chest was on the mattress. Four hits to your cheeks came down in quick succession, and when you reached your hand behind you to block them, it was quickly pinned to the small of your back. Three more hits followed, accompanied by a pathetic, “Ow!” from your lips.

“Color?” he questioned roughly.

“So fucking green,” you replied, dazed.

Seven more hits followed, each one harder than the last, and you didn’t think there was anything better than the sting you were feeling right now. There was nothing more you wanted than for him to mark you up like this.

“Fuck, you’re dripping,” he commented. Five more hits. 

“Oh, fuck!” you cried out at the last hit, one that felt like it reverberated through your entire body. One that definitely left a handprint behind. 

“Yeah, but you like it, don’t you?” It was a rhetorical question. He spanked you four more times. “You just wanted me to mark you up, is that it? Think of me every time you sit down for the next few days, hm?” Three more. 

“Mmph!” Your cries were muffled by the comforter. 

“Yeah, I can tell. Look at this fucking mess.” He dragged his fingers through your soaked folds. “Jesus Christ,” he said under his breath, and then he was flipping you back over. He nestled himself between your legs, his tip teasing your entrance. His expression softened as he stared into your eyes. “Are you sure?”

You nodded. “Yeah,” you replied breathily. 

He slid into you slow and easy, your mouth open in a silent moan as he bottomed out. 

“Good?” he asked.

“So fucking good.”

When he started to move, you thought you were going to die. In a good way. In a way that made you decide right there and then that when the time did come, this was how you wanted to go out. 

“Harder,” you encouraged, and he obliged. “Faster.”

He was properly fucking you now. Hard and fast and dirty. Your legs were wrapped around his waist, your heels digging into his ass, forcing him to go deeper. His head was buried in your neck, your nails were clawing up his back, and the room was filled with moans and pants and expletives that put a sailor’s mouth to shame. 

“Shit, baby,” he panted into your neck. “God damn, you feel good. So fucking tight.” He sped up his thrusts, and the bed was squeaking so much that you thought it was going to fall apart underneath you, but you were too far gone to care. He reached a hand down in between your bodies, his fingers finding your clit, circling it expertly. You were on the precipice of your release in seconds. And then —

“Come. Soak that fucking cock, baby. Come for me.”

And you screamed loud enough to get both you and him kicked out of the motel if they cared enough as your orgasm ripped through you. He fucked you through it, his pace only faltering moments later, right before he pulled out and painted your stomach white. It looked like a Jackson Pollock on your abdomen. Kinda hot, actually. 

“You okay?” Dean asked, looking down at you as he finally caught his breath.

“More than,” you smiled.

He mirrored the look on your face before crawling off the bed and heading to the bathroom. He came back moments later with a damp washcloth, gently cleaning his masterpiece off of your skin. When he was done, he threw it across the room, aiming for the bathroom, and it landed on the tile in front of the toilet. He laid down next to you, pulling you into his chest as he pressed a soft kiss into your hair, and you wanted to ask so many questions, all at once. What were you two now? How long had he been wanting this? Would there be a next time? Instead, you opted for —

“You know in fanfictions, they write you as a submissive most of the time.”

He snorted. “They’re half right.”

“A switch?” you asked, surprised. “Lucky me.”

He chuckled softly. “Sorry about your ass.”

You shrugged. “I was asking for it.”

“Oh, you were definitely asking for it. Still, I… I dunno. It was your first time, I didn’t want to get too —”

“It was perfect, Dean.”

“Yeah?”

You nodded, smiling, dozing off already. “Yeah.”