#asks that make me regret making a post about John taking any more body parts

[arthur-lesters-right-arm]

John should have control of Arthur's prostate so the next time they're bickering he stimulates it and Arthur cums and it ends the fight because it's awkward

I had to decide weather to openly shame you for this ask or keep this buried in my ask box and never let it see the light of day again and I've decided to openly shame you Medieval style, not an ounce of decorum in this place. That being said, someone get this to Mr Gutherie effective immediately

[thepaintedlady00]

Oneshot: Dream's POV of The Dreaming

Instead of another sneak peek this week, I've decided to post Dreams pov of showing Penelope The Dreaming. Tomorrow chapter 9 will officially be posted at around 5! :)

“All the damage the ruby did, can you undo it?” Matthew asked, hopping alongside them.

“The ruby didn’t do this. John merely used it to reveal wounds that were hidden, but never healed. Soon the rebuilding will begin. In this realm and in mine, but tonight at least, humanity will sleep in peace.” He looked down at Penelope, tucked into his side. “How is it you were not among the bodies in the diner?”

She leaned into him more as they walked further from the diner and the violence. “The ruby didn’t work on me. Got any idea what that's about?”

“I'm not sure,” he said honestly. He had a few theories, but they needed to be tested and researched before he brought them to her. “But I am glad that it did not affect you.”

“Oh, were you worried about me Dream?” Her eyes glistened with the light teasing and her smile broadened as she nudged him.

“Very.” Was his answer. After waking up to the feel of her anxiety he was very worried, scared even, that he'd not caught on to the danger she was in soon enough, that he would once again lose her.

He felt her heart quicken and watched as she smiled up at him even wider. “It’ll take a lot more than a little jewel to take me out, Dream of the Endless.”

Dream remembered all the times she'd fought and raged against the Burgess and the asylum. She was no warrior, not in the sense he was used to, but she would not go out easily. They were walking in the middle of nowhere he realized. She would no doubt want to go home, but the thought of leaving her made him tense. Home, he thought watching her as they walked. He could take her home. He stopped walking, lungs tight with the nervousness. "I would like you to accompany me, back to my realm.”

“I thought it needed to be repaired.”

“It does,” he said, slightly regretting asking her. He wanted her to see it, all the things she'd thought of trying to dream, but it was not as he left it… Not as she imagined.  “But I promised you a conversation.”

“I can wait a little longer, Dream, you don’t have to-”

“I also do not wish to part with you yet. Not after finding you at the center of danger twice now because of my absence.” He admitted with a sigh. He was not used to this, being so open and affectionate, but with her he could not help himself nor could he hide it. She felt what he did, trying to keep anything from her required a strength he simply could not keep up. He set his forehead to hers. “It would ease my mind considerably if you remained beside me for just a while longer. But if you wish to return home I will escort you there and make certain you remain safe as best as I can.”

He felt her smile, the happiness and warmth that radiated through her into him. “I am rather curious to see this famous dream world of yours, I hear it’s all the rage.”

Taking his sand from his coat he looked down at her. Why was he so nervous? “It is not yet returned to its former glory, but I think you’ll still find it to your liking.”

Her hand covered his pouch, the tips of her fingers brushing against his palm. “This isn’t going to send me somewhere random again, is it?”

“No,” he said, pulling her to him. “I will ensure you do not stray from my side again.”

“Good.” She whispered back, the heat hummed between them.

From the ground beside them Matthew got as close as he could to their feet. “You’re gonna make sure I don’t get sent to any murder diners too, right boss?”

Her fingers curled into Dreams arms clutching onto Dream’s arms and he tightened his hold on her. It felt so right, having her this close to him. As the sand swirled around them he breathed in the smell of her hair, though it held a twinge of sulfur she still smelt so sweet. He imagined how the scent would wrap around him while they were wrapped around each other. The thought made him burn as the sand faded away, revealing the beach. Later, he told himself.

She stayed curled into his chest, a small apprehensive fear of what she'd find upon opening her eyes lodged in her mind. His hands smoothed down her back, the feeling of the silk warmed with her skin oy made the burning intensify.  “Open your eyes, Penelope.”

She looked at the sand first before he watched her slowly take in the landscape. She moved from his arms when she saw the ocean and he could feel the swell of her disbelief and awe. Tears filled her eyes as she looked back at him smiling. "How is this possible?"

“I don’t know, but I am glad to welcome you to The Dreaming.”

“It’s incredible."

“This is just one small piece of it. Soon it will all be as it should.” He assured her.

“My Lord!” Lucienne called out, her tone one of worry. Yes, he thought. I'd not updated her before our return. He turned to her and watched as her eyes locked onto Penelope. "Is that?"

"Yes," he said, unable to hold back the joy that filled him. "My lady is alive."

"My Lord," she whispered, still half shocked.

With a gentle hand he brought her attention to his librarian. “Lucienne, this is Penelope.”

Lucienne smiled at him, before she smiled even wider at Penelope. “Hello, my lady. It is an honor to meet you.”

"I’m hardly a lady, Penelope is just fine.” He thought it was amusing to see her really took to the title. She would grow accustomed to it, his subjects would never refer to her as anything less.

“I was not expecting visitors, my Lord, I thought something horrible had happened when you did not appear back at the palace. I am glad to see that I was wrong.”

Dream held his arm out to Penelope. “Would you like to accompany us back to my palace?”

"Absolutely!” The earnest eagerness of her reply sent joy straight through him as well as made him more nervous.

What if she doesn't like it? “Unfortunately there is not much of it left, but I will repair it soon.”

As they approached the gate he prepared to move, to open it for her, but she moved first. The soft touch of her palm was all it took for the gates to open for her. She belonged here, just as much as he did. Dream said nothing, merely looked down at her in pure adoration. 

His heart seized at the sight of the decaying and dark realm that lay beyond the gates, at the sight of his palace crumbling in the distance. If Penelope had any disgust or disappointment she hid it well as they began walking along the sorrowful path. She held his arm tightly, eyes looking all around them. Suddenly as they walked life seemed to begin returning to the forest and the plants that surrounded them until it looked as it once had, long ago before his capture. He hadn’t done this. He hadn’t willed the realm back to life. Dream had planned to start with the palace to establish a firm foothold before venturing through to heal the broken pieces of his world, and yet here the Dreaming was, being wrought back to life before his eyes.

As Penelope left his side the realization hit him. She was healing the forests, breathing new life into everything that surrounded them, and she was doing it all without realizing. “This is amazing, Dream.”

You are amazing. He wanted to say. There were so many questions he had, none that she would be able to answer. Lucienne fell into step beside him. “My Lord, how is this possible?”

He shook his head, not once letting his eyes fall off of the woman examining every plant she could. “I don’t know.”

“Even with the bond she should only have access to a fragment of your power,” Lucienne continued. “A human cannot endure the full depth of an Endless’ being, this is known. And yet she’s…”

“She’s healing The Dreaming without even knowing it.” He finished for her, finally looking away to speak to his librarian as they continued down the path.

Lucienne sighed before asking a question that had plagued him from the start. “Are we certain she is human?”

Dream had wondered this often. Penelope was different, so much so that he couldn’t help but doubt her being. But there was no denying the humanity she held, he could feel it in her. “Yes, she’s human. But there's something more to her… something I can’t quite place.”

“When the library is found again I shall begin researching immediately, my Lord.”

When he looked behind them to urge Penelope up to the front with them his heart nearly stopped. The path was empty, devoid of all signs of her. He turned quickly and began searching the treeline with his eyes. The sound of voices in the distance reached him. Cain and Abel. Lucienne was quick to follow his long strides as he made his way down the path and across the bridge. The brothers were bowing and quickly uttering rushed apologies and words of thanks to her as she stood looking down at them with wide eyes. Butterflies of every size and color swarmed around, a few perched atop her head in an elegant wreath as she looked toward him with a nervous smile.

“Cain, Abel,” He said as they approached. His voice pulled them from their mantra and they bowed one last time before looking up at him.

“Lord Morpheus!” They cried in unison.

Once he’d stopped at her side she held his coat back out to him. “I don’t think I need this anymore, the weather here is quite lovely.”

With a smile he looked to the sky, to the blue that he hadn’t seen in over a century begining to peek out from the gray clouds. “Yes, it seems to be clearing up nicely.”

As he pulled his coat back on Cain and Abel approached. “Thank you, my lady!”

“Our garden has never looked more beautiful!” Abel insisted.

Dream watched the woman beside him shrug and smile bashfully. “I didn’t do anything, I was just looking at the flowers.”

They looked at each other and then to him. “It seems you two have already been introduced to Penelope.”

“Yes,” they both said, their eyes darting to observe the mark she bore one last time before looking back to him for confirmation. He nodded his head slightly and they both stood up straighter.

“She is quite welcome in the House of Secrets!” Abel stated, gesturing to the house on the right.

Cain’s brows furrowed. “She’s also welcome in the House of Mysteries!”

Her laughter sent a sense of pride and awe through him. She looked between the two brothers and smiled so brightly. When he’d first returned he never thought she’d be standing here. She loved them, Cain and Abel. She loved every decayed inch of his crumbling Dreaming, loved it so much that the realm felt it… absorbed it and restored itself from her mere presence here alone. He couldn’t help the small smile that spread on his face as he watched her, standing among the garden she’d wrought back to life. His eyes looked to the butterflies that had filled the courtyard. How is she doing all this? He thought curiously. What did these creatures mean? 

When he looked back down she was looking up at him, eyes shining in the returning light. “I’m afraid tours of your houses will have to wait. We are going to attend to the palace now and then, I believe we are overdue for an important conversation.”

“Yeah, we should probably get to that.” Turning to the brothers she shook both their hands, not noticing the way they both tensed and looked to him for permission. He gave them another nod, heart full for the first time in a long time at the sight of his subjects showing his lady their respect. “It was a pleasure visiting, I’ll try to come back again for a tour of both your houses, they sound amazing.”

Each bowed once again. Cain spoke, “It would be my honor, my lady.”

Abel bowed lower and followed his words. “It would be mine as well, my lady, you are welcome anytime!”

He took her elbow in his hand, the warmth of her skin spreading over his instantly. Leading her back to the path and moving her arm to retake his.“It seems Constantine was right to warn me of your talent for disappearing.”

The blush of her cheeks made him beam. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wander off. I was just following these guys.” She gestured to the butterflies that fluttered through the air around them, focusing on her more than him. “They like to lead me places and are, I think, trying to be helpful.”

He looked at them curiously. “You know these butterflies then?”

“Don’t sound so sarcastic, Dream,” Penelope said with a smirk. “They helped guide me out of your brother's maze.”

Dream stopped walking, his eyes clouding over with concern. She’d entered Destiny’s realm? No mortal should have been able to do such a thing, not even with the power of his sand. “You were in my brother's realm? When?”

“A few hours ago. When things started getting weird at the diner I left, but when I opened the door and walked through I was in the middle of a hedge maze and the door kind of vanished behind me. These little guys led me to an opening where I ran into your brother, literally.”

His brows furrowed in confusion. None of this made sense. “What did he say?”

She shrugged, walking the path again. “I’m not entirely sure, does he always answer questions by not really answering them?”

“Yes, I suppose he can be quite cryptic. Though I’m surprised he spoke to you at all, he does not interfere with the affairs of mortals.”

“Yeah, he told me that much. But he seemed to know me already. He said I’d been to his garden many times before, that I was smaller the last time he saw me. It was odd.”

Dream hummed. Destiny would not have said something false there was no point to it. The fact that he’d spoken to her at all made his mind curl with confusion. If his brother had known her for some time then there was a reason behind it, something he was missing. “I suppose a conversation with Destiny is overdue.”

“Don’t worry about it. You have a lot on your plate now that you’ve got your stuff back and besides, something tells me he wouldn’t really tell you much more than he did me.” She said softly.

“Very well,” he looked down at her, a new fear filling his already scattered mind. “He didn’t hurt you, did he?”

“No! He was quite polite. We had tea and snacks.”

“He offered you tea? Snacks?” He inquired with a hint of amusement. Destiny had prepared family dinners before, but to offer up such a thing to a mortal who’d simply appeared in his realm at random? No, he could not picture that.

“Is that not something he does often?”

“No, it is not.”

She flashed him a teasing smile. “Well, maybe it’s because I’m such good company.”

"That you are, my lady."

He watched her eyes fill with the want they’d held in them before their near kiss was cut short. She nudged him gently. "Cut it out."

"I have no idea what you are referring to." He said, teasing and nearly breathless.

"You're an ass," She whispered.

He studied her for a moment, mind still reeling from the fact she’d spoken to one of his siblings with such ease. "So, you've met Destiny. Any other siblings of mine you know?"

"Your sister, Death," she stated. He’d suspected that much. "She was there the night I pulled myself out of the river. And I don't really know who the others are, so I'm not sure."

At the mention of that day, his entire body felt the echoes of the pain he'd been shackled to for the past eighty years. The words left him slowly, hesitant to reopen the newly sealed wound. "When you said goodbye to me, that last time… I knew you weren't planning on coming back."

Looking up at him her eyes glistened with his pain. She smiled sadly, whispering, "I know. I felt it."

"I wanted to speak to you then," he admitted. "I wanted to tell you not to do it."

Her guilt hit him fast and hard. He opened his mouth, quickly trying to console her, but she spoke first. "I'm sorry. I didn't think about how it would affect you… I honestly kind of thought it wouldn't have bothered you that badly."

Dream felt hurt by the confession. "Why? Why would you have thought that?"

"You're you. You're a god, more than a god and I'm just me… Just a human. I figured to you I was just a spec in your endless lifetime." As he looked down at her he had to resist the urge to scoff. Had she truly spent the last eighty years thinking she meant so little to him?

He stopped, lifting her chin with his fingers. "Do you still think this?"

"No," she said softly. "No, I don't. I feel it… What you feel for me, at least some of it."

"You are no minor spec, Penelope Barlow, you are every star in the sky, a galaxy in my endless lifetime." You are everything to me.

She wiped away the small tears before he could, shifting the conversation. "So, was that the only time you wanted to talk to me?"

"No," he smiled. "When you first called me Sandy I nearly broke my silence."

Her laughter filled his ears, quieting his mind for a moment as the warmth of her arm wrapping around his filled his chest with the need to keep it there. "Yeah, that's what it looked like."

"I also…" he paused. Perhaps now was not the time to be digging up such dark memories, but he felt the pull to do it anyway. "When he told you to beg me… If you had, I would have spoken. I would have given him whatever he wanted if it meant keeping you from them."

Beside him she sobbed softly and through a wobbling, scared smile asked, "Were you angry with me?"

Morpheus turned his head quickly and without breaking his stride wiped her tears, tightening his hold on her.  "No. I could never have been angry with you, Penelope."

"While I was… While I was there, I was convinced you'd hate me, or at least what I'd let myself become."

All breath left his lungs as her confession hung in the air between them. Not only had she spent all this time thinking she meant nothing to him, but she spent it all thinking he hated her. He had much to make amends for. "I have lived for a very, very long time. Over the course of my life I've hated many people and beings with ease. So, believe me when I say that I would never be capable of hating you. Never. You could single handedly destroy me and The Dreaming and I would not hate you."

Her voice was loud and shocked as she insisted, "I would never!"

He nudged her with a soothing pulse to attempt to lull the guilt she felt. "Good, because I would truly find it difficult to feel saddened for my realm with the sight of you wielding my power before me."

She chuckled, her eyes widening as the want he felt reached out to her. "I mean, I can think of better scenarios for that."

"As can I," he replied, returning his gaze to the path ahead where Lucienne smirked to herself at the sight of them.

“So, is that something I’ll be able to do? Use your power?”

“I’ll admit, I’m not quite sure.” He answered. “There have not been pairings such as ours between a mortal and an Endless before. In fact such a thing should be impossible, and yet…”

“And yet, here we are,” she finished with a smile. “An odd pairing indeed.”

Morhpeus sighed at the pitiful state of his palace. “Such a sorry display. I had hoped to bring you here after I’d finished repairs, but…”

Feeling his hesitation and vulnerability Penelope said, “It’s beautiful, Dream. Even like this.”

He looked down at her with a smile, the sincerity in both her voice and eyes filling his chest with warmth. Once they stood in his throne room, overtaken with debris he gently let go of her arm, moving to the center. He took a deep breath and raised his hands, feeling the power he'd been cut off from for a hundred years fill his lungs. It was relieving to feel his full strength returned, the shattered pieces of him slowly welding back together as he willed his palace to do the same.

The glass and rubble lifted into the air, tiny glittering particles of sand swirling around the room with them. All around them the air grew tighter as everything moved, restoring to its rightful place and above head the stars grew brighter as the color of his palace, of The Dreaming, returned. “At last, my palace is as it should be.”

Lucienne smiled at him as he turned. “Is there anything you require of me, my Lord? A list of all that still needs repaired perhaps?”

“Later,” he replied, gesturing down the hallway that had long since been lost. “For now, I think there is a specific task you should see to.”

With a smile and a look of realization she hurried down the hall and he motioned Penelope to follow. As soon as the doors opened and the large expanse of books and papers came into her view she made a soft noise. Her fingers ran along the bookshelves and she clutched her notebook to her chest. “My Lord…”

“Welcome home, Lucienne.” He said. “I thank you, for your unwavering loyalty during my absence.”

“Thank you, Lord Morpheus.” The smile on her face was one he'd not seen in a very long time as she leafed through the papers left on the desks and looked through the books on the shelves.

Dream turned to Penelope, watching her look around for a moment before he said, “I believe it is at last, later.”

“So it is, Dream King.”

“Ask your questions, and I shall do my best to answer them.”

Laughing nervously she leaned against the table instead of taking a seat. “I don’t know where to start.”

“The beginning, then?” he suggested, not wanting to pressure her.

She looked down at the mark, her fingers lightly tracing over the raven shape. “Was it a gift? Or was it an accident?”

Dream thought on the question for a moment, wanting to be as honest and accurate as he could. “Both, I suppose. While I did not give it to you knowingly, it is born of a sacred gift, one I could not control even if I’d wanted to.”

"In Hell, Lucifer said that they heard rumors of you being soul bound to a mortal. Is that what this is called?”

Of course they tried prying for information. “Yes. It is common among humans, though I believe the term is different. Mortals cannot see the mark that connects them to another, but given the oddity of our circumstance you and others seem to be able to see it as if it were a mere tattoo.”

“So, what exactly does it mean?”

He sighed softly, it was a difficult question to answer and he truly didn't know how to without making it sound outlandish. Eventually he spoke, saying whatever words felt right. “Humans call them soulmates. Among the Endless and other beings it is called Soul Bound. Its meaning is different depending on the individuals, but the simplest answer I can give you is that you and I are bound together, soul to soul. Whatever it is that I am made of, you are too.”

"Two tethered stars…” she said softly.

Dreams head tilted, the words ones he'd heard before, long long ago… Long before Penelope and even before The Dreaming itself. “Where did you hear that?”

“Right before I pulled myself out of the river, I heard a voice… I don’t remember exactly what it said, but I remember those words.”

He hummed, unsure of how else to respond. “An accurate phrasing I suppose.”

“During my, uh, tea party with Destiny… He said that we were intimately acquainted… That such was inevitable when it came to us. Is that…” She rubbed her forehead, nervous. “Is this pull between us just the mark?”

It was almost amusing how little credit she gave herself. She'd been subject to a world far beyond her understanding for years and yet in her mind the most far-fetched idea was that he would want her as much as he did. He moved closer to her with a small smile. "No. The mark binds us together, this is true, but it cannot make either of us feel things that are not already there. The… pull… That’s just how we feel.”

Big doe eyes stared up at him as she blushed, her teeth pulling at her bottom lip. His eyes watched the sight, wondering what she would sound like when it was him biting that lip. “It’s quite a strong pull.”

Dream chuckled, moving even closer. “They’re quite strong feelings.”

“Mine or yours?"

“I would argue they’re equals," he said, his whole body practically vibrating with want. "As we are.”

“Equals? Does that mean I’m queen now?” His heart beat faster at her teasing. What would she look like on his throne? He wondered. He wanted nothing more than to drag her to the damn thing and have her sit, legs wide while he worshiped her.

“If that’s what you wish." He could barely get the words out, his thoughts filling with every position he wanted her in… Filling with the desperate need to know what she would sound like, feel like, beneath him.

She smiled, oblivious to his heated thoughts, continuing her teasing. “Would I get a crown? You don’t have one.”

He nearly moaned at the thought, but chuckled instead. “I’ve not needed a crown, but I could make one for you if the queen is what you decide you wanted to be.”

“Maybe later." Later, he began to like the word. 

With a hum of acknowledgement he could no longer contain himself. "I won my duel against Lucifer.”

She gasped quietly. “You did.”

“I believe I was promised a kiss.”

“You were.” Her hands moved to smooth over his coat, much like they had in Hell. “Would you like to be rewarded for your noble victory now, Dream Lord?”

“Yes.” It was strained, filled with his need to finally kiss her.

With a satisfied smirk she lifted herself up, using his coat to pull him down slightly. “Very well.”

When their lips met it was short, far too short for Dreams liking. He pulled her closer, pressing her into him and squeezing the side of her hip. His hand moved to the back of her neck, pulling her gently back into another kiss. He wanted more. Needed more.

The slow, languid movements of their mouths were more intense than he'd expected. His grip on the control he had left was loosening by the second, every part of him ached to throw her onto the table and kiss every inch of her. Even through the need, the lust, burning inside him it felt as natural and relaxed as breathing. I should have kissed her the moment I saw her. 

In the distance a book hitting the floor pulled them away from one another. He brushed his nose against mine before settling his forehead to hers as she caught her breath.  "Well, how was your reward?"

"Worth the wait," he said, happily. "It will be your turn to ask for a kiss next time."

"Oh? You intend to make me beg you for a kiss?" The sound of her breathless voice made him want to kiss her more.

Dream smirked. "Beg? No. Not yet at least."

She tried to mask the sharp breath she took, tried and failed. The sound went straight to his gut, making him even harder than he already was. "You should know, Dream Lord, I'm not much of a beggar."

"A challenge?" He posed. "How refreshing."

Just as they stepped away from one another Lucienne returned with a stack of books in her arms. "Everything is just as I left it!"

"What are these?" He injured looking over the titles.

"A few volumes on soul bonds," she answered. "I figured you two would want to do some digging, seeing as this is the first record of this kind of pairing ever happening."

"Thank you, Lucienne." Penelope grabbed a book from her pile and sat down, leafing through the pages carefully 

His eyes were on her, he couldn't look away. An urge overcame him, one he couldn't resist as he reached out to the warm softness of her mind. "Can you hear me?"

Shocked eyes flashed up to him from across the table. "I don't know, can you hear me?"

A grin spread on his lips as his eyes slid down to his book. "I can almost always hear you."

"This is new."

"Is it uncomfortable?" He hadn't exactly thought of what such an odd sensation it would be for her.

"No," she insisted. "I kind of like hearing your voice in my head."

He took a deep breath, attempting to cool the flame inside him. "Shall I repay the favor then? Give you a taste of what I've been enduring for the past day?"

"I have no clue what you're referring to, my Lord."

Eyes looked up from the book, gleaming with the challenge in her words. "Perhaps I should make you beg for a kiss, since you seem so persistent in trying to get a rise out of me."

She merely smiled, looking down at her  book. "If I were trying to get a rise out of you I'd be thinking of much dirtier things."

"Like what?"

"The memories of you naked perhaps?" I bit my lip. "Or maybe your lips being put to better use than the pouting you do so often?"

If it was a game she wanted, Dream would play. He pushed the lust that filled him down their bond, nearly losing his composure at the gasp she made as she adjusted in her seat. He could practically feel her squeezing her thighs together trying to alleviate the sudden strong ache. Morpheus lowered his book just enough to watch her, desperate to see her. "Problem, my lady?"

"That's cheating, you ass."

Beside them Lucienne made a noise. Dream had forgotten she was here. "I’ve found something interesting, according to some reports, soul bound individuals might be able to communicate through your thoughts alone, how intriguing. Have either of you tried that?" They glanced at one another, her red cheeks redder than before as Lucienne shut her book and sighed. "You were just doing it weren't you?"

"Yes," he answered. "We were just… Testing the limits."

"You're going to end up right back in Hell for that," she said, but nearly laughed herself.

Lucienne had promptly excused herself, leaving the two to tease one another silently. Dream never wanted this to end. He wanted her beside him every second of forever, and the thought was more jarring than he expected. As the dim light of the sun began to set out the large windows Penelope sighed and he did in turn. It was time for both of them to return to their duties. "I should probably go home. Johanna is going to kill me for disappearing without warning."

Dream gently pulled her closer to him. "I'm sure Constantine will understand, given the circumstance."

"Understanding isn't exactly one of her strongest talents, especially since I’ve been gone for almost two full days.”

He pulled his pouch of sand from his coat, preparing himself to say goodbye, still unsure of if he intended for it to be the last. He wanted her, but some part of him still nagged at him, telling him it'd be best if he remained far away. "I shall keep you safe from her wrath then."

"You sure you know how to use that? Wouldn't want to get lost."

"You're not letting that go, are you?" He chuckled.

"Not anytime soon."

"Fret not, you won't get lost, not with me beside you," he replied, his hand pushing her tighter against him. "But you should still hold onto me."

She gathered the front of his coat in her hands, tugging a little. "Like this?"

"Perhaps a bit closer." He pulled her flush against him, her face close enough for another kiss.

"Better?" Her nose bumped his as her darkened hungry eyes looked up at him.

"Much." With his free hand he poured the sand and let it swirl around them.

As the sand fell away, revealing the dark office in the apartment, neither of them moved, dared to break apart. She smiled at him, eyes flashing to his lips. "Thank you for bringing me back."

His eyes did the same. "It was a pleasure to have you, at last, visit The Dreaming."

"I had a wonderful time. Your realm is spectacular."

Their hot breaths swirled together and the scent of her floral perfume made him lose any train of thought he might've had. "You are always welcome to return. Anytime you wish."

"Were you satisfied with your winning kiss, Dream of the Endless?"

"No." His voice was raw with need. "With you I doubt I ever will be."

Humming, she pulled on his coat more, either tugging him down or trying to pull herself up. "Maybe another will help?"

"Are you asking me to kiss you, Penelope?" He teased, expecting more of her usual snark.

Her eyes nearly closed and her perfect lips parted as she whispered a soft, "Please."

The plea caused whatever grip he had on himself to snap. All that remained was the absolute need to have her. His hand fisted into my hair, pulling back to his lips and into the all consuming kiss. He poured every ounce of himself into it, unable to do anything but touch her. Their tongues and teeth clashed and when her fingers ran through his hair, tugging, he moaned. I need more, he thought, taking two long strides and pinning her against the first piece of furniture he could. The wood scraped against the floor, pulling her back to look up at him. Her pupils were blown wide and her chest heaved.

He needed to feel her skin beneath his hands. Their eyes stayed locked as he pulled her dress up to her hips and he lifted her on top of the desk, ignoring any mess it causes. She gasped when he dragged  his cold fingers down her legs until they pulled her legs further apart. He filled the space instantly, leaning over her, a small remnant of his self control returned and he said, "If you want to stop, you need to tell me."

If she wanted this to be as far as they went he needed to know because if it was he needed to leave, quickly before the pull became too strong for him to resist.

"I want more," she replied with a needy groan.

"More," he hummed, squeezing her thighs to keep himself from rushing. "How much more?"

Dream drank in the sight of her as he dragged his hands up under the silk and brushed against already wet panties she wore. Her sharp gasp filled the air between us as her hands pulled his hair. "All of you."

"As my lady commands." He ripped the fabric off her.

"What if I liked that pair?"

"I'll get you another." He rasped as his thumb sought out her clit with ease. Her hands fell to his shoulders, digging into the fabric of his coat, and her head fell back against the wall. Morpheus  pressed an open mouthed kiss to her throat, moving slowly, savoring every second that he sucked and bit at the tender flesh. The sounds she made were far better than he ever could have imagined as his fingers worked her closer and closer to the pleasure he sought to drive her to.

He moved her hair away from her shoulder and pulled the sleeve of her dress down, latching his lips onto junction between her neck and shoulder and biting down hard. The moan that filled the room made his head swim and push his fingers down harder and moved faster. Penelope moved her hips against him, trying desperately to quicken the pace, but he would have none of that. He clamped his hand down onto her hip, squeezing tightly and stopping her movement. Her whine made him smile. "Don't get greedy now, my lady, just take what I give you."

With a loud huff she pulled his hair, lifting his head from its place and she whispered against his lips, "I wouldn't have to be greedy if you'd give me what I want, Dream Lord."

"Very well," he replied, pressing a soft kiss to her lips before dipping his fingers in between her soaking wet folds. He groaned at the feeling of her clenching around his fingers and he swallowed the wanton moan his movement pulled from her. He cupped her jaw, tilting her head back and exposed her delicate throat to him again. Her grip on his hair shifted to one as the other moved, using his shoulder as leverage to grind herself down onto his fingers. "Morpheus."

His eyes closed at the sound of his name on her lips. He needed to hear it again. Just as he moved to quicken the pace a voice from the door stopped him. God damn Constantine. He didn't hear what she said as he pulled his fingers away from the embarrassed Penelope.

"Johanna!"

Smirking, she held her hands up innocently. "Don't stop on my account, I just needed to grab this." She grabbed the hand crossbow and started out the door. "Glad you're not dead by the way! When you and your Sandman are finished I can give you a wallop for making me worry."

"Get out!" Penelope yelled.

"I'm going!" The door slid half closed behind her before she stuck her head back in. "Just a word of advice Sandman, she goes absolutely nuts if you-"

"JOHANNA!" She screamed, throwing the nearest object at the door just as it closed.

They looked at one another for a moment before she slumped against his shoulder, giggling softly. "I'm so sorry."

He chuckled, the need ebbing and the feel of her joy filling him. He rubbed her back soothingly. "Don't be, we probably should have checked to make sure we were alone before we engaged in our pleasantries."

"Pleasantries," she said, looking up at him. "Does that mean you enjoyed it?"

He chuckled at how oblivious she was to his desperate need for her. "Was there any doubt that I was enjoying myself?"

"No," She played with his coat, a tiny smidge of nervousness pinching inside her. "I just don't want you to regret anything."

“Regret?” He lifted her chin and pressed kiss to her lips. "I could not regret any moment spent with you.”

She pressed back, gently coaxing his mouth open and tangling her tongue with his. He could do this for eternity. "Does that mean you'll be back for another… Kiss?"

"Among other things, yes."

"When will I see you again?"

“Soon,” he assured her with one more kiss before he forced himself away, retrieving his pouch and pouring the sand into his palm, his eyes never leaving her. "Goodnight, Penelope."

"Goodnight, Morpheus."

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[ponderinqs]

Pushed Away || JJ Maybank

pairing: jj x reader

warnings: swearing, mentions of abuse, underage drinking, angst, gun usage, SLOW BURN!!!

word count: 3.3k

summary: you’re best friends with jj, but something happens one day, leaving you and the rest of the group confused and worried about him. what happened to him? did you do something to hurt him? or maybe, there’s something rather... emotional going on inside him. something he’s never felt for anyone before in his life.

a/n: here’s me apologizing for not posting this WAYYY sooner. listen,, i got huge writers block for a very long time, and i wasn’t feeling up to anything obx. but now that season 2 has come out, and the fact that i’m at the beach right now (approximately 2 hours away from where they film outer banks), i finally have some motivation to write. soooo yeahhhh. hope you enjoy LMFAOOO. also, read the other parts if u haven’t already!

unedited. please excuse any typos :)

comment if you want tagged !! :)

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

—————————

It’s been about four days since your friends found out about your past. A week since you spoke to any of them.

When you came home that night after seeing Rafe, you and your mother got into a screaming fit over how she needs to stop trying to change you back to who you used to be.

“You don’t get to tell me who I am! I get to choose that!” You yelled, finger pointed at your mother.

“Excuse me?! I am your mother! I can do whatever I need to do to get you to stop turning into someone you’re not!” Now your mother was screaming at you, probably waking the neighbors.

“Life was better when dad was here! Now you’re just a pathetic excuse as a mother!!” You felt regretful for the words that left your mouth, but in the heat of the moment, it felt like the right thing to do.

You felt a hand come across your cheek. “You don’t get to talk to me like that, young lady!”

She left the house shortly after you two fought. Your mother has been gone for a few days, which left you holed up in your room, alone, letting the nasty thoughts fog your brain.

You groaned as you got out of your bed, trudging to the bathroom to see how awful you looked. Your hair was disheveled and you looked like absolute shit. “God…” You whispered, letting your fingers graze your cheek. You winced as you felt a slight sting from the movement. It was still sore, and even if there wasn’t much of a mark anymore, you could still see a slight red tint to it.

You finally decided it was time to leave the house. The sun was beginning to set, but you didn’t want to be holed up in your house for another day. After cleaning up and looking somewhat normal, you walked downstairs and went to open the door, but someone was at the door, just about to knock. It was Pope, looking frantic and scared.

“Y/N! Hi!” He pulled you into a quick hug. “You gotta come quick, there’s something wrong with JJ.” He looked at you, scanning your face for any response, when he saw the slightly reddened cheek mark.

“Who did that?” He spoke softly, his finger touching the mark lightly. “My mother.” You sighed. You didn’t feel like worrying everyone, but it was already happening.

“We can talk about this later, okay? But c'mon, we gotta go.” He nudged his head to his car as the both of you made your way over to the car.

“Is he okay? What’s wrong with him?” You spoke after a few minutes of pure silence while Pope drove. “I really don’t know. He went back home last night and something must’ve happened there. You’re like the only one that can get him to calm down.” He smiled at you as he pulled into the Chateau.

You both got out and walked towards the front, where JJ was seen pacing back and forth, Kiara and John B just watching him. They both saw you and stared, not saying a word.

JJ turned around and saw you, the two of you making eye contact. He stopped pacing, and you saw the sun shine through his beautiful hair, but you also noticed more cuts and bruises scattered around his pretty face.

You approached him with caution, looking into his ocean blue eyes the entire time. The two of you didn’t speak any words, but somehow you still calmed JJ down. You grabbed both of his arms as you looked at his face, examining each and every cut and bruise.

Instead of speaking, you hugged him. You wrapped your arms around his torso tightly, resting your head on his chest. He was hesitant at first, but he also wrapped his arms around your waist, burying his head in your neck.

You felt wetness on your skin, making you hug him even tighter. JJ let out a choked sob, still holding onto you as if you were the only thing keeping him from completely losing it. You stroked his back, your eyes watering as you listened to him cry into you.

“I can’t do it.” He mumbled into your neck in between sobs. Your heart broke for what felt like the hundredth time this week. And again, you couldn’t do anything to help him, which made you feel helpless. All you could do was stand here and hug your best friend, hoping something would make everything stop hurting.

JJ went limp in your arms as the two of you fell to the ground, JJ covering his face with his hands and he continued to cry. “JJ..” You whispered softly, grabbing him and holding him to your chest. You ran your hand through his hair a few times, trying to get him to calm down.

You looked around at the other Pogue members, signaling that they need to give you two a minute. They understood and nodded, walking into the Chateau and closing the door behind them.

After they were gone, you moved JJ away from you as you pulled his hands away from his face. Your foreheads rested against each other’s, the two of you not daring to break eye contact.

His eyes were red and puffy, tears still streaming down his face. He looked at you with his sad eyes as you felt raindrops beginning to fall on the top of your head.

Soon it was beginning to rain even harder, but the two of you just sat outside, staring at each other and not speaking a word. “I can’t deal with him anymore..” JJ’s voice cracked at the end, letting out another choked sob.

You cupped his face with your hands, kissing his forehead lightly. As you pulled his face away, he noticed the faint cheek mark on your face. “Who.. who did that?” He said quietly, his hand coming up to touch it.

Shivers went down your spine as you felt his touch, along with a slight sting. “Shit.” You hissed, looking down at the ground.

“It was your mother, wasn’t it?” He moved his dripping wet hair out of his face, looking into your eyes.

You nodded slowly right as a bolt of lightning cracked in the air. Thunder boomed through the atmosphere within seconds, and the two of you shared the same look. “Let’s go inside, okay?” You grabbed his hand and helped him stand as the two of you went inside.

The three friends looked up at the sound of the door closing, seeing the both of you drenched with your hands still intertwined.

You squeezed his hand, leading him to the extra bedroom. You watched the fragile boy lie down on the bed, turning his back to you.

You turned around and went back out to the rest of your friends. “Um, we’re gonna stay here tonight.” You shuffled your feet.

“Everyone is staying here. The hurricane is coming through right now.” John B sat on one of the couches, finally looking up at you.

You nodded. “He’s gonna be okay, Y/N. Just give him time.” Kiara looked up at you, giving you a slight smile.

You sighed and made your way to the bathroom and grabbed a few towels before you returned to the extra room, seeing JJ in the same position that he was in when you left him.

“Hey, I got some towels so we can dry off.” You got onto the bed and set the towels in front of you. JJ turned around and sat up, grabbing a towel and drying off his hair.

“Do you have extra clothes here?” You asked, and JJ just simply nodded, pointing to the worn down dresser across from the bed. You stood up and walked over, opening it and finding some random clothes for you and JJ.

You tossed JJ a random marina shirt, and a pair of shorts. You found a blue shirt and some sweats, and put them onto the bed. “Well, close your eyes.” You grinned at him, and JJ smirked before covering his eyes with his hand.

You stripped from your wet shirt and tossed it to the corner of the room, making a note to wash it tomorrow. When you looked at JJ, he was peeking out of his hand. “Maybank!!” You giggled as you hurriedly put the shirt on.

“Well, I like the view.” He commented, making the heat rise up to your cheeks. You shook your head and pulled off the drenched pants you had on, rushing to put on the sweatpants.

“Keep em off.” He smirked, his hands now completely away from his eyes. “Oh, shut up.” You finished changing and got into bed, JJ now getting up and changing. “Do I need to close my eyes?” You spoke as if you were a little child.

“That’s up to you.” He smirked again. You decided not to as you watched him slowly peel his wet shirt off of his body.

Without realizing it, you were biting your lip and staring at his defined torso. “Take a picture, it’ll last longer.” JJ laughed, pulling the dry shirt onto him and then taking off his drenched shorts.

Seeing JJ in his boxers was something you never thought you would witness, but I guess it had to happen sometime, right? He slid on his shorts and got back into bed.

Rain pattered against the window, along with the occasional lightning strikes and thunder. The two of you sat in the darkness for what felt like hours.

“Why did your mother slap you?” JJ spoke, the air thick with something you couldn’t quite explain.

“I called her a pathetic excuse for a mother. So she slapped me. Then she left.” You turned to face JJ, your faces inches away from each other.

“Why didn’t you come to see us? You were gone for a long time, or at least a long to the three of us. We were all scared and confused.” JJ’s hand moved to rest on your cheek, staring at you. Even in total darkness, he could make out your features.

“I didn’t want to. I thought you guys hated me.” You relaxed into his touch, sighing.

“We don’t hate you, Y/N. We are all just a little disappointed that you never told us.” He moved a piece of your hair out of your face, tucking it behind your ear.

The tension was thick, and it scared you. You’ve never been this vulnerable to each other. JJ never let his guard down, and neither did you. The time you shared outside was something that has never happened before.

“Do you feel better?” You spoke softly, wondering if that was the right thing to say. You didn’t know if you were overstepping any boundaries the two of you had. A lightning bolt lit up the sky, followed by a large boom of thunder as JJ began to talk.

“Yeah.. I’m fine. Don’t worry about me.” He shrugged it off and pulled the thin blanket up to his chest. You gave him a confused look. “JJ, I will always worry about you. That’s what friends do. We always look after each other and make sure the other one is okay.” You scooted yourself closer to him. You felt him shiver as your arm grazed his.

“Just don’t bother worrying about me, okay? I’ll survive.” His finger reached up to his face to touch the multiple cuts and bruises on his face. You heard him wince as the wind picked up outside.

Rain began rapidly pattering against the window, wind shaking the trees and scraping up against the side of the shack.

“JJ look.. I’m sorry for going full ghost on you guys for that long. I should’ve let you all know that I was okay.” You whispered, your hand resting on his shoulder as you laid your side to look at him.

“Nah I get it. I do it too.” JJ shrugged. You stared into his blue eyes, trying to figure out what was going on inside of that beautiful brain of his. He was too focused on the storm outside to realize that you were staring at him. When he finally made eye contact with you, your heart seemed to have skipped a beat.

“What?” He asked, his voice soft and caring. “Nothing.” You mumbled and laid down, getting comfortable with your pillow and the blanket you were currently sharing with JJ.

“Goodnight, Y/N.” JJ said before he turned on his side and tried to fall asleep. You were facing his back, your eyes glued to him. Slowly but surely your eyes closed and you both fell asleep to the sound of the wind and rain outside.

-

When you opened your eyes the next morning, you felt a heavy weight on your chest. Looking down, you saw JJ sleeping on you, his hand draped across your stomach with soft snores emitting from his mouth. You smiled and brushed some hair out of his face. You inspected his small cuts and bruises on his face, your index finger grazing each and every one of them.

Soon JJ’s eyes peeled open and he looked up at you. “What are you doing?” He mumbled, his eyes darting to your lips and then back up to your eyes.

“Oh, nothing. Good morning.” You replied, moving your finger away from his face. JJ rolled himself off of you and got out of bed, mumbling a ‘good morning’ before he exited the room and went to find the others. You followed him shortly after, finding no one in the living room.

“Uh.. guys?” JJ questioned, walking around the small boat house as he tried to find his friends. You then spotted John B outside, along with Kiara and Pope. “JJ, they’re outside.” You spoke before walking outside.

You looked around at the damage the hurricane had caused. Branches and twigs were scattered around the yard, along with a lot of random debris covering most of the grass. “Holy shit. She really did a number.” JJ admitted, walking around the yard, stepping on some twigs and picking random stuff up.

“Yeah, no kidding.” John B replied, his hands on his hips as he looked around at all the damage.

Surprisingly, the Chateau didn’t take much damage. You had noticed a bucket sitting on the floor earlier, so there must be a leak. Other than that, there wasn’t much else that needed repairing.

Suddenly, your phone in your pocket started to ring. Grabbing it, you saw the caller ID and it showed that it was your mom. “You have to be kidding me.” You muttered under your breath.

Catching your friends’ attention, they all turned to look at you. “Your mom?” Pope asked, wincing to himself once you nodded.

You answered the call and put your phone up to your ear. “Y/F/N Y/L/N, what in the hell do you think you’re doing?!” She screamed through the phone.

“What do you mean?” You kept your voice calm and controlled, because you knew if you raised your voice this phone call would be a lot worse than it already is.

“Leaving the house when I’m not there?! Doing god knows what with those low life’s?!” Your mom responded through the phone, her voice getting increasingly louder by the second.

“First of all, you left me!! What the hell was I supposed to do holed up in that house?! And I have told you this time and time again, they are not low lifes!” You retaliated back, making sure that your mom knew that she was in the wrong.

“That’s what you think.” She responded flatly. You just scoffed. “You make me sick, mom. You really do.” You responded, beginning to walk around in circles.

“You need to come back home. I mean it.” Your mom responded sternly. She could do anything, but nothing would tear you away from your real family.

“No. I am not coming back home for a while.” You shook your head, making eye contact with Kie.

“Excuse me? Yes you are. I will send the cops after you if I have to.” She responded, now raising her voice yet again.

“I cannot believe how disrespectful you are right now, mom. No, I am not coming home. You have given me so many reasons to not come home. I am going to stay here where I am more loved. Fuck off.” You yelled and ended the call, not caring about what she had to respond with.

“God, Y/N, I am so sorry you have to deal with her. That’s horrible.” Kiara walked up to you and gave you a hug. You hugged her back, resting your head on her shoulder.

The rest of the Pogues soon surrounded you and hugged you. You smiled as everyone hugged you.

-

About 30 minutes later, everyone was standing around a large fire that had started to burn all the twigs and branches scattered across the yard, when a Range Rover pulled up next to John B’s van.

You were not surprised when you saw Rafe get out of the car. “Oh hell no..” John B scoffed, walking over to Rafe.

“John B.. John B. Relax. I’m just here for Y/N.” Rafe smirked as he looked over at you, holding his hand out to stop John B.

“Rafe. Get out of here.” You told him, staying near JJ just in case he tries to do something.

“I got you, I got you.” JJ whispered in your ear, placing his hands on your hips as he held you close.

“It was your mom again.” Rafe’s voice got louder as he started to walk closer to you.

“I don’t care about her. Now leave.” Your heartbeat began to rise as he got closer and closer.

“Nah, I don’t think I will do that.” Rafe was now four feet in front of you.

“Hey, buddy, back it up!!” JJ yelled, staring at Rafe to make sure he doesn’t make any sudden movements.

“Aw look, you have a bodyguard. How adorable. You know, Y/N, me and you had history. I used to be your bodyguard. Isn’t that right?” Rafe smirked at you.

Before anyone could react, Rafe grabbed you by the arm and pulled you towards him. He held you close to his back, his arm locked across your chest.

“You dickhead!” JJ screamed and ran over to grab you.

Suddenly, Rafe pulled out a gun, causing everyone to stop in their tracks.

He clocked the gun at you, the barrel sitting right on your head. You gasped, tears trickling down your face.

“Tell them, Y/N. Tell them what we were.” Rafe said, smirking as he looked around at the group.

“Put down the gun and I will!!” You yelled, only causing Rafe to push the gun onto your head more. You let out a yell.

“Oh, I don’t know about that. I think you just better tell them now.” Rafe looked down at you, smirking.

“Me and Rafe,” you sniffled, looking down at the ground. “we had.. history. More than what I have told you. We… we dated.” You let out a choked sob.

Rafe slowly moved the gun away from your head. “See? Wasn’t so hard, was it?” He grinned, stilling holding you close to his body.

All of the Pogues looked at you in disbelief. You couldn’t even find it in you to look at JJ.

“Cmon, Y/N. Let’s go.” Rafe gave your friends a little wave before he walked over to his car with you and shoved you into the passenger seat.

You were unable to fight him. You gave up, just staring at the floor of the car.

As Rafe started the car up, your friends started to run after you. Rafe quickly backed up out of his spot and peeled away. The last thing you saw out of the passenger side window was JJ, looking scared and very upset.

[kilibaggins]

Knight In Shining Armor

Request: Can you do murphy/reader set after the hanging? You can decide if he gets banished or not but hurt/comfort please? Maybe they run away together or reader yells at Bellamy or something? (I know you said to wait but we all know I have no self control at this point, oops. Love ya, good luck!) ~ @ultimatereyesstan

A/N: AH! Thank you for this request! I had so much fun with it! I love comfort fics!

Setting: post-hanging.

Warnings: Hanging, Blood, Wounds, uh... Please tell me if anything else?

Word Count: 1,910

~~~

Murphy was scared. You know this, while everyone thinks he's angry and violent and that's all there is to him, you know that's wrong. You know that the anger, the hate, the everything is a facade. A mask he slips on every morning because he feels that if he shows the real him, he'll get hurt.

You know it's fake, you've seen him in his soft moments. You saw him take care of his mother at late hours of the night when she couldn't take care of herself. You saw him sobbing after his mothers death, no matter how much before then he said he wouldn't care if she died. You've seen him in the late hours of the night when he would cry about how horrible the Ark was, and how bad he felt for the people who suffered at the hands of the chancellor and his goons.

So, you know that when he gets up after being hung, this is yet another facade. A disguise to hide his pain and hide his fear. You walk up to him as he yells at Bellamy, his body tight with anger. You put your hand on his arm and softly pull at it, gaining his attention.

"Don't do this. Don't do something you'll regret." You say, and Murphy looks at you for a minute, seeming to think listen. "How does this end Murphy? What? You think you can go and get revenge and it'll turn out alright? How did you getting revenge last time turn out? With you in a locked cell. And now what happens when there's no cells." You continue and you see him thinking.

"Y/N I-" Murphy says and you can see his anger fading already.

"No. You need to stop. You think this is going to do anything other than hurt you more? I know you've got to be in pain, probably a nasty headache." You say, and you see hsi breathing become more shallow. He nods softly and you sigh. "Bellamy, go take Charlotte somewhere, she killed someone, she can;t just get away with it."

"What makes you think you can tell me what to do?" He demands, and you step up to him.

"Because I actually have a brain. Unlike you who just hung an innocent boy because you didn't think." You say, and step back again, grabbing Murphy's hand, and throwing his arm around your shoulders, helping him to the dropship. You help him to the hammock, and by now his energy is gone, all of the adrenaline that was coursing through him has dropped. He looks up at you with pain on his face and you frown.

“No, there’s no room here.” He mumbles, his words barely making it out. You look at him puzzled, and when he moves to get up and you softly push him back down.

“John, what’s going on? No room for what?” You ask. He frowns harder, and you suppress a smile and how adorable he looks. He always tries to look intimidating, but to you he has always been adorable. Someone who could never hurt you.

“You.” He whimpers, closing his eyes, probably from his headache. You smile softly and move his hair from his face.

“Okay, then do you want me to move you to the floor? On the blankets?” You ask and he nods softly, making sure not to hurt his head more. His head must be pounding, you used to help Abby in the med-bay before getting in trouble, there you learned a lot of stuff about medical things, especially injuries. Hanging, which cuts off the blood flow, usually causes intense headaches if the person doesn’t die from it. You know it most hurt right now, that plus the pain on other parts of his body, would be overwhelming. You softly grab his arm again, and help him to sit up.

“Ow.” He whimpers and you wince. “Hurts.”

“I know, sweetheart, I know.” You say, helping him off of the hammock. You help him over to a pile of blankets on the ground. “Alright, I’m going to help you down now, okay?” You ask, not really expecting an answer. You softly help him down and once he’s laying down, you see his muscles relax. You kneel down next to him, and gingerly cup his face. He opens his eyes and looks at you.

“It’s darker down here.” He says, and you nod. “It’s better. Doesn’t hurt.” He says. You smile and softly move his hair out of his face.

“I’m glad.” You say, your fingers running through his hair. “I’m going to get the bucket of water and cloth from over there, and bring it over to wash you up, okay?” You ask and he nods this time. You walk away to grab the bucket and he tries to watch you but he can’t move much. You grab the bucket and walk back.

“First, your amazing face.” You state, bringing the wet cloth up and washing his face. He smiles softly, before letting his eyes close and letting you do what you need to do. He trusts you with his life, and he will continue to trust you for a long time. He shakily brings his hand forward to rest it on your knee so he can feel you here with him. “You know, as much as revenge sounds fun, I’m happy I could stop you.” You say, now cleaning a wound. He mumbles something and you pull back enough to listen.

“Y- you didn’t do shit.” He pauses to chuckle. “I did that on my own.”

“Oh really? So you're telling me you gave up on your own?” You ask looking down a thim with a smile.

Murphy nods and smiles, “Yup.” He says, and then when he doesn’t talk anymore you bring the cloth down to his lips and wipe them clean of the mud staining them. You then softly move on to his neck. When you first put the cloth to him he flinches back, and you pull away, not wanting to scare him.

“Murphy, I’m not going to hurt you. But it looks like you’re bleeding, and you’ve got mud near it too, I need to wash it so you don’t get infected. That would be a horrible spot to get an infection.” You say softly, and he looks up at you. He opens his mouth to say something before he shakes his head and licks his lips. “What is it?” You ask.

He sighs softly, his breath shuddering. “Just… Be careful with me, okay? Please.” He asks, and you smile.

“Of course.” You say, and you let him relax again before softly washing his neck. Murphy has a hard time asking for things, especially for people to be nice or soft with him. The first time he did it it was when you were younger and he had accidentally cut his hand with a knife he had been laying with. He had come to the med-bay, but instead of waiting his turn or being taken care of by anyone else, he had come straight to you. “I’ll always be careful with you, Murph.” You say, and you remember saying it that day too. In a soft voice as he sat on one of the cots in front of you, looking at you like you held up the moon. You look at his face now, and see the same look.

“Thank you.” He says, and you smile softly. You both remember the conversation that day well, since it had been the first time you really saw him vulnerable. He never had even been this way after a bad day with his mother. He always hid those feelings up. You notice that Murphy’s neck is indeed bleeding, and you patch him up. “Sleepy.” He suddenly says, and you jump, not used to the sound in the quiet room.

“You can sleep, you know. I won’t hurt you.” You promise, and he nods up at you.

“I know you won��t.” He says, putting emphasis on the word ‘you’. You take a deep breath and you nod, understanding. Murphy’s scared of everyone else. You grab your knife, pulling it out and showing him it.

“I won’t let anybody hurt you.” You say, turning the knife in your hand. He smiles and laughs.

“You? Protecting me? Yeah, let’s see how that works out.” He snarks, but he closes his eyes and lets himself relax against the blankets. You softly undo his jacket, but keep his shirt on. You don’t want to do anything anywhere like that until he gets back to his normal self. You know he doesn’t like you seeing him that way. You’ve never really understood why, especially since you two are so close, but you assume it’s some type of self worth issues. You finish washing him up, first his arms, then his legs. He only stirs a few times, like if you’re cleaning a wound and it hurts him. When he does this, you shush him, softly petting his face until his eyes close once again.

“Do you need any help?” a voice asks behind you, and you jump, surprised that it doesn’t wake up Murphy. You put down your cloth and look behind you to see Clarke. You can tell she’s flustered, probably worried about Murphy.

“I don't need your help.” You say, your voice darker than it usually is. You know it might be irrational, but you can’t help but feel protective over Murphy. You see Clarke’s face fall and you sigh.

“I know I caused this, but I want to help. He didn’t deserve this.” She says, and you look down at the ground. “Please, let me help.” She says, walking forward. You sigh softly and look at Murphy’s sleeping face.

“I love him.” You say, grabbing his hand.

“Yeah, I assumed so.” She says, a small smile on her face. You look at her and smile.

“There’s not much to help with anymore, I cleaned him up and made sure his wounds were covered. I think you should.” You say, running your thumb over the back of his hand. “I just don't want him seeing you when he wakes up.” You admit.

“That makes sense.” Clarke responds and you nod. “I’ll be out there dealing with the others.” Clarke walks away, and leaves the dropship, leaving you and Murphy alone. You watch as Murphy wakes up once again.

“Y/N?” He asks, his eyes opening and looking up at you. You smile softly and pet his hair back again.

“Hey, baby. Go back to sleep okay?” You say, and he shakes his head. You look down at him in confusion. “Why not?” You ask.

“Want you- Want you to hold me.” He says softly, and you feel your heart break. He never asks to be held, not unless something is really wrong.

“Okay, baby, I will. Just relax okay?” You say, moving so that you’re behind him. You wrap your arm around him, and you feel him turn around in your arms. He buries his face in your shoulder and you sigh saldy, bringing your hand up to play with his hair. “I’ve got you. You’re okay.” You say, and Murphy nods softly.

“My Knight in Shining Armor.” Murphy jokes, and you smile softly, kissing the top of his head. You’re happy to help him. Hopefully from here on out, everything will be okay.

[petite-ely]

Afraid // JJ Maybank

five - but what if?

Pairing: JJ Maybank x fem routledge! reader

Warnings: bad language (don’t swear kids), mention of drowning, mention of death, nightmares, mention of guns, mention of fight, did I miss something.

Description: after his reckless actions at the party, JJ is unable to sleep but he isn’t the only one still awake.

A/n : I don’t want to make this longer than it already is, I think I’ve talked enough lol. If for some reason you want to know why I’ve been gone for so long I’ve written a post regarding it. Sorry again for not posting in so long. If you want to chat, feel free to reach out. I’m friendly. :) please kindly tell me if I’ve made some mistakes, I’ve reread this like a hundred times but its possible some mistakes slipped.

Previously next

Afraid masterlist

Gif by @cobrazkai

Song recommendation

JJ Maybank was 14 years old when he first realized that he had feelings for one of his best friends. The thing is he didn’t know what the hell those feelings were. He had always thought that y/n was really pretty and he considered her to be one of her closest friends and that was it. Friends- that’s what they were.

But after years of friendship and wild adventures and basically hanging out 24/7, something felt different. And boy, did that scare him.

JJ was not the kind of person to be really in touch with his emotions. Being abandoned by his own mother and living with an abusive alcoholic father didn’t really help either. If anything, his past traumas only made him more disconnected from his emotions and feelings.

He might’ve been hot headed and impulsive but that didn’t stop him from feeling things, often even too deeply. The issue was naming the emotions he was feeling. He didn’t know what he was feeling like half of the time. So when it came to y/n, his feelings for her were so intense and unknown. He had never felt this way for anyone before. He was so confused.

Being around her felt weirdly homely and yet, he never really had a real home to come to. For him, it was only a house. It was a building with things he wasn’t really attached to and a man he couldn’t really call a father, despite DNA saying otherwise. Being with her felt warm and golden and it was like a drug he couldn’t say no to. He was constantly looking for ways to feel this specific way. It was euphoric. But he only felt this way when he was around her. And it felt like home.

She was the home he wanted to come to every freaking night. And he wanted to dance with her and have night long discussion and caress her cheeks tenderly. He wanted to kiss her more than anything else, his lips on hers staying that way until one of them needed to take a breath - oh what heavenly feeling that must be. He wanted to proclaim his feelings to the entire island - the entire world even.

Only he couldn’t. There was this rule, and he couldn’t break it. Usually, he wasn’t the kind of person to let rules determine what he should and shouldn’t do. But it was the pogue rules, he couldn’t break them. He couldn’t do that to his friends, regardless of his own feelings.

Love. That’s what his feelings were. It took him some time to realize it, but yeah, it was love. He was certain of it (which was rare for JJ). A first love, innocent, deep and one sided. At least that’s what he thought. How could she love him? How could anyone love him when even his own father didn’t? Who would want him?

Now, JJ had messed, big time.

He was sitting beneath a tree, at the edge of the yard whims the château, a few feet away from where the water started. His gaze was turned towards the sunrise though he wasn’t really looking at the magnificent show of colours that nature was offering him. He was thinking or more like regretting.

He kept replaying the event that had happened just a few hours ago on the boneyard again and again in his mind. The arrogance on John B’s face while he taunted the kooks, the empty, psychotic look on Topper’s face while he was holding J.B’s head underwater, his own hand holding the gun against Topper’s head. It felt so powerful at the moment and yet in retrospect he felt so stupid. What would he have done if something had actually happened, if someone had gotten hurt because of him?

In the spur of the moment, he hadn’t thought about it really much. How crazy it actually was. He saw his friend in a situation where he could actually die and only thought about helping him. He had this thing with him that could help save him, an object that take could take someone’s life in the matter of seconds. So he used it at his advantage. He had only wanted to help, but at what cost.

He kept picturing the expression on y/n’s face when he got the gun out. It wasn’t anger, no it was much worse, she was terrified. She had actually been scared of him. How could he ever make up for that. How he could he ever admit what he was feeling for her after he had brought her such terror. He had ruined everything.

What if she never forgot that moment? What if she never forgave him?

A branch cracked somewhere in the distance, and JJ turned to face whoever, or whatever, was lurking in the dark. He was blinded by the bright artificial light of a flashlight. “JJ?” A voice spoke and the blond immediately recognized it. Y/n.

“Can you please turn it off, I don’t think it’s necessary,” he responded, motioning to the clarity that brought the sunrise. It was light enough for them to fully see one another.

“Oh, yeah, sorry, “-she sat down beside him- “Couldn’t sleep?” JJ stared at her for a moment before taking his eyes away.

“Yeah, you could say that. What about you? John B snoring too loud?” Y/n gave a small laugh.

“Um, no, not this time.” Her smile went down. “I had a nightmare.” JJ’s brows furrowed.

“Not about um, not about tonight right?” He asked, guilt hidden in the tremors of his voice.

Images of the past night filled y/n’s mind. Her brother being held under water, JJ pulling the gun out, the loud echoing sound of the firearm as it shot in the air. She could still hear it ringing slightly in her ears.

A small moment went by before she finally shook her head in denial, earning a small sigh of relief from the blond (at least that wasn’t his fault, he already felt guilty for so many things). “No, uh, no it wasn’t that,” she said, her voice barely audible.

JJ stared at her face in the golden light of this early morning. He noticed the blank stare in her eyes and frowned. Nightmares, although worrying for most people, were pretty common for y/n. JJ of course knew this, yet something felt odd.

He rested his hand on the small part of her back between her shoulder blades. “Do you want to talk about it?” She turned her head to meet his eyes, the feeling of his skin, warm and soft against hers sending small tingles at the base of her neck.

She didn’t want to bother him with her problems, she knew how horrible his home life was compared to what she was living. She didn’t want to remind him of this not make him feel bad about her small problems when he was facing such violence on a daily basis. Still, she knew JJ and talking about his dad was the last thing he wanted to do. And his eyes, his beautiful ocean blue eyes, it’s like they could see through her. How could she lie to him?

“I, uh I-I-“ his hand went to her shoulder and he squeezed it reassuringly. “You don’t have to tell me, if you don’t want to.” Y/n felt her cheeks burning (hopefully he didn’t notice it). She took a moment to breathe in deeply the fresh air, calming herself slightly before putting her hand on his.

“No, I-I want to. I think it’ll help, in a way.” JJ cracked a sweet smile. “Alright then.”

“I keep having this one dream about my dad and I see him on his boat wandering. He’s lost in the middle of the ocean and he’s calling my name.” Saying those words, she really felt as though she could hear her father calling her name in the far distance, as if he was right beside her. Sadly, it was only her imagination playing tricks on her.

“And it keeps turning to this nightmare, where he dies in various horrible ways. Either drowned or starved or eaten by sharks.” JJ’s gaze softened, his eyes admiring her lips forming each words one after the other. “But tonight-“ she let go of his hand, shifting her body to face him completely, “-tonight, for a reason, I didn’t see him.”

“The boat was empty.”

Flashes of her nightmare came back to her like waves crashing on the beach. Her dad on his boat, a smile sketched on his lips. The sky is clear blue, not a cloud is in sight. There’s a warm breeze, she can almost feel it on her skin, and the sun is shining. It’s almost utopian, the perfect day to spend out in the sea.

Then the scene changes. The sky darkens to a deeper shade of blue, grey clouds towering the ocean. The wind is stronger, much stronger. It whistles as it makes its way in the crevices between each tree and threatens to tear the sails down. And the boat, she can see it floating hauntingly on the wild waves the same way a ghost would in abandoned castle. And there’s no trace of her father. Not even a feeling, that would tell her he’s there, trying to survive this storm.

“What if he really is gone J? What if my dad-“ she stopped her sentence to look at the horizon, somehow hoping to see a sign that would prove she was wrong. “I’m trying so hard to be positive and optimistic, but it’s been so long. What if he never comes back?”

The look in her eyes was heart-wrenching. JJ didn’t know what to say or do. He never really thought about it. What would happen if Big John was gone. To be honest he didn’t want to, that man was more of father to him than his own ever was. And losing him would be... he preferred not to think about it.

“I disagree,” he finally said. “What?” “Your dad is like one of the smartest person I’ve ever known. I think that, he, of all people would know how to get out of any situation, especially if it seems impossible to everyone else. I don’t think that you should give up on him yet.”

“You really think so?”

“Yes, I do,” he smiled. “So fuck everyone who tells you otherwise,“ y/n giggled. “Fuck all of them! You’re allowed to have hope, y/n, even after this much time. They can’t take that from you.”

“In the meantime, we’ll there’s us,” us, “the pogues, our own family. We can get through anything, right?”

“Yeah, we can.” Y/n’s head fell on his shoulder. “We’re the pogues.”

JJ admired her carefully. How her face looked, basked in the golden rays of the sun, looking so terribly tired and yet so beautiful. He could stay like this forever, losing himself completely in her smile. God she was so wonderful.

“Hey y/n/n?” “Yeah?” “Are you mad at me?” “Huh?”

“Why would I be ma- oh, oh.” The gun. He thought she was mad at him for what he did. Though he saved her brother, didn’t he? So, she didn’t understand why he would think she could hate him.

“It’s just that you looked so terrified when-” “You saved him JJ, that’s what matters most.” Y/n interrupted the boy mid sentence, placing her hand on his arm in gratitude. “If you hadn’t done anything, he could have...” she didn’t finish her sentence.

When she saw JJ holding the firearm against Topper’s head just a few hours ago, she had first been incredibly shocked. She didn’t recognize the JJ she knew. But now, she completely understood. It was his way of protecting his friends, his way of showing he cared. And that, she admired him for it. Though he could’ve shown it in a less dangerous way.

“I admit,” she added, “it was dangerous and a bit scary to see and we’re probably gonna get some kind of revenge from the kooks soon, but no one got hurt. And J.B, well he’s okay! We’re all okay!”

“Also, I’m pretty sure I did some very, very stupid things last night, so I can’t really be mad at you,” she cringed remembering the amount of alcohol influenced things she had said and done during the party. “God, I must have looked so ridiculous.”

JJ laughed at her comment. “Yes, yes you did.” “Man, John B was right, I can’t believe I’m saying this.”

“Can you just promise me something?” Asked y/n, once their laughter had died. “Depends what?”

“Promise me you’ll never hurt yourself with that thing, or anyone else for that matter.”

“I promise, y/n. ”

“Thank you.”

Taglist

@deionswannabegirl @kaelyn-lobrutto24 @poguestyle17 @im-a-stranger-thing @lasnaro @thoughtsofthestars @briandaflores19 @lunaposey @allycat449-blog @ifilwtmfc @kitty084 @coloradogirl07 @ponyboys-sunsets @chaoticbisous @p0gue420 @sloaneemily

If I forgot you or if you wanna be added/removed just tell me! Also I’m sorry if your name didn’t work :/

[inevitably-johnlocked]

Hey Steph, got any good old (maybe new?) bedsharing fics for a fanfic obsessed lurker?

Thanks 😘

Hey Nonny!!

Hahha! I actually just did a list recently of my old ones, but I just double-checked my offline lists and I actually DO have some fics on my next Bed Sharing list, so GUESS WHAT? Your ask is the one to start the next Bed Sharing one, LOL.

As usual, if anyone has any they’d like to add, especially if they’re brand new fics, let us know! <3

BEDSHARING Pt. 5

See also:

The Speckled Blonde / BedSharing

BedSharing Pt. 2 and Insecure Sherlock

Bed Sharing Pt. 3

Bed Sharing Pt. 4

Bed Sharing “Just Happens”

Soft. Happy. Content. by inevitably_johnlocked (G, 223 w., 1 Ch. || Sleepy Cuddles, Bed Sharing, Slice of Life, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Spooning, Morning After, Sherlock POV) – Sherlock reflects on his state of mind.

And When The Night Is Over by Simply Isnt On (K, 329 w., 1 Ch. || Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Platonic Bed Sharing / Not Slash) – Sherlock and John sleep together.

I Knew You Loved Me by inevitably_johnlocked (T, 743 w., 1 Ch. || Morning Cuddles, Fluff, Clingy Sherlock, Idiots in Love, Slice of Life, Morning After, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Declarations of Love, Pet Name, Bed Sharing, Snuggles) – John and Sherlock share a lie-in the morning after their first time. So fluffy and gross your teeth will fall out. Part 4 of I-J's Tumblr Ficlet Collection

Sleep Tonight by Jenn1984 (T, 1,220 w, 1 Ch. || Hurt/Comfort, Bed Sharing, Worried Sherlock, Sick John, Hugs/Cuddles, Touch Neediness) – Fingers begin prying open his jacket looking for a wound and John would really like to swat at them. No, he's not hit anywhere, he's just damn sick.- John Watson has a fever.

Loved. by inevitably_johnlocked (G, 1,231 w., 1 Ch. || First Sherlock POV, Slice of Life, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Nose Kisses, Morning After, Love Confessions, Morning Cuddles, Emotional Sherlock, Sentiment, Bed Sharing) – Sherlock reflects on his relationship with John. Part 5 of I-J's Tumblr Ficlet Collection

Here to Stay by MockJayPhoenix12 (K, 1,574 w., 1 Ch. || Post Reunion, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Headache, Bed Sharing, Care Taker Sherlock, Hand Holding, Fluff) – On Sherlock's first day home, John wakes with a migraine.

The Perfect Place by SilverSmile (K+, 1,955 w., 1 Ch. || Humour, Romance, 5 and Ones, Fluff, Experiments, Bed Sharing) – Sherlock attempts to find the perfect place to sleep, but his little experiment proves to be far more difficult than expected.

Insomnia by TheSingingGirl (K+, 2,635 w., 1 Ch. || Friendship, Humour, Bed Sharing, Sleepy Sherlock) – Sleep is merely the next frontier in what has become the battle to keep Sherlock alive. It's because of this that John ends up in bed with a sociopath.

Human Body Pillow by Lunavere (K, 4,122 w., 1 Ch. || Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Five and Ones, Sleepy Johnlock, Bed Sharing) – A story about the five times John fell asleep on Sherlock, and the one time Sherlock fell asleep on him.

The Myth by AGirloftheSouth (M, 4,329 w., 1 Ch || Sex Toys / Anal Beads, PWP, Romance, Bottom John, Prostate Stimulation) – Sherlock believes something to be a myth. John proves him wrong.

When We Sleep by PrincessNala (K+, 6,660 w., 1 Ch || Post-TGG,  Alternating POV, Bed Sharing, Anxious/Worried Sherlock, Hurt/Comfort, Hugs) – Sherlock needed to feel every beat of his heart, every rise and fall of his chest as he breathed. It was the only way to completely assure himself that John was alive and right there next to him, and not dead, no, never dead…

To be loved by Strange_johnlock (E, 12,436 w., 8 Ch. || Post S3, Established Relationship, First Person POV Sherlock, Pet Names, Soft Sherlock, Mild ADHD, Protective John, Captain Watson, Body Appreciation, Bottomlock, Rough Sex, Travelling for Holidays, Introspection, Sherlock Loves John So Much It Hurts) – John is so deeply integrated into the work, both as my conductor of light, and as a great shot with a vicious right hook who tackles men -and women- no matter their size all in my defense. He protects me with all he can without question, and this loyalty is surely more than I deserve. Or: Sherlock is counting his blessings.

There's So Much Labour Just in Breathing Lately by Susan (E, 12,708 w., 1 Ch. || Post-TRF / Mentions of S3 Events, Romance, Angst, Grief/Mourning, Grieving John, Mutual Pining, Meddling Mycroft, Therapy, Ambiguous Hopeful Ending, Infidelity) – The dreams he hated most – the ones that left him a sweating, shaking mess when he woke – were the ones in which Sherlock was just Sherlock. Laughing or drinking tea. Sitting across the table from him at Angelo’s eating pasta. Trailing his open hand behind him on the way to the bedroom. “C’mon, John. I’m about to have my way with you.”

Kintsugi by distantstarlight (E, 14,772 w., 1 Ch. || Post S4, Emotional Hurt / Comfort, Regret / Remorse, Loneliness, Separation, Drug Use, Healing, Protective John, Sad Sherlock, Dev. Rel., Complicated Relationships, Love, Angst With Happy Ending, Sherlock is Called Freak, John’s Penance, Voyeurism, Doctor/Caretaker John, Guilty John, Detox, Fingering, Love Confessions, Cuddling, Slight Non-Con Turns Enthusiastic Consent, Virgin Sherlock) – Sherlock Holmes becomes estranged from the man he had once considered his best friend after John lets him down horribly in public. It seems that the world's only consulting detective will be on his own once again...or will he?

The Burning of the Leaves by blueink3 (M, 15,915 w., 3 Ch. || Post S4, Angst, Reichenbach, Parentlock, Past Jolto, Idiot John, Sherlock’s a Mess, Puppies, Fluff, Possessive / Jealous Sherlock, Pining Sherlock, Sherlock POV, Matchmaker Sholto, Melancholic Feelings, Emotional Sherlock, Domesticity, Love Confessions in the Rain, Kissing in the Rain, Pet Names, Panic Attack) – After the events of series 4, Major Sholto invites John and Sherlock to lunch one day. It nearly proves to be too much for their tenuous relationship as the past haunts the present, putting the future that Sherlock so desperately wants at risk.

A Silver Sixpence by _doodle (NC-17, 16,400 w., 2 Ch. || LJ Fic || For a Case / Case Fic, Fake Relationship, Humour, Romance, Marriage Proposal, Awkward Idiots, Cuddling, Touching, Kissing, Love Confessions, Bed Sharing, Friends to Lovers, Fake Until It’s Not, Schmoop and Fluff, Bottomlock) �� “John, we need to get married. It’s for a case, not any romantic notions on my part pertaining to our partnership,” Sherlock said, with brutal honesty, and without even looking up.

Division by MrsNoggin (E, 19,542 w., 11 Ch. || Coffee Shop AU || First Kiss/Time, Fluff, Barista Sherlock, Clingy Sherlock, POV John, John’s Limp, Bed Sharing, Fluff, Sleepy Cuddles, Sensuality, Touching, Virgin Sherlock, Insecure John) – John likes mysteries. And every morning he dips into the local independent coffee bar with his newspaper and ponders another... one Sherlock Holmes.

Out of the Woods by SilentAuror (E, 20,471 w., 1 Ch. || Post S4, Romance, Slow Burn, Flirting, Drunk Sex, Practical Jokes, POV Sherlock, Bottomlock, Possessive John, Pining Sherlock, Frustrated Wanking, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Blow Jobs, First Kiss/Time, Virgin Sherlock, Love Confessions, Soft Sherlock, Dancing, Bum Appreciation, Hanging out with the Yard) – Sherlock is fairly certain that John has taken to flirting with him of late, but can't be entirely certain of it. At least, not until a case takes them into a forest, along with Lestrade's team and something happens that will change everything about their lives...

Insanity in the Middle by DotyTakeThisDown (E, 28,010 w., 8 Ch. || Equestrian Sports AU || Alternate First Meeting, POV John, Pining John, Bottomlock, Clueless Sherlock, First Kiss/Time, Passionate Kisses, Hand Holding, Caught Making Out, Bed Sharing, Spooning, Blow Job) – John is a world-class eventing rider with a gold medal and several four-star wins to his credit, but he's never won at Rolex. Sherlock is an up-and-coming rider taking the sport by storm.

A Home for Us by sussexbound (M, 30,581 w., 12 Ch. || Scars, Bedsharing, Grief, Doctor John, Hurt/Comfort, Post-TRF, Implied/Referenced Torture, Sherlock POV, Pining Sherlock, Suicidal Ideation, Heavy Emotions, Clingy Sherlock, Hallucinations, Disassociation, Emotional Turmoil) – He has been on the road for two years, and he is exhausted. He’s almost accepted that he will never see London (John) again—almost. But then there are nights like tonight, where he is weak, and all he can think of is the warmth of the flat they once shared, the crackle of the fire in the hearth, the teasing smile playing at the corner of John’s lips, the boxes of half-eaten Chinese takeaway balanced precariously in their laps. He aches at the memory of it, at the realisation that it is something he may never experience again.

Anchor Point by trickybonmot (E, 49,856 w., 80 Ch. || Truman Show AU || Psychological Drama, Suspense, Slow Burn, Dark Characters / Fic, Alternating First/Third Person, Protective John, Anxious/Worried Sherlock, Tender Moments, Love Confessions, Hand/Blow Jobs, Cuddling, Jealous John, First Kiss/Time) – The world tunes in nightly for Sherlock, the ultimate in reality TV: Sherlock Holmes, a real person with a legendary name, unknowingly lives out his life in a staged setting contrived by his brother. Things get complicated when a retired army doctor joins the show to play the part of Sherlock's closest friend. This fic borrows its concept from the 1998 film, the Truman Show. However, you don't need to have any knowledge of the movie to enjoy this story.

The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse by SilentAuror (E, 50,635 w., 1 Ch. || Post-S4/S4 Divergence, Case Fic, For a Case / Reverse Fake-Relationship, Conferences, Marriage Equality, Travelling / New York, Pride, Homophobia, Bottomlock, Marriage Proposal, John POV, Sexuality, Love Confessions, Emotional Love Making, Public Hand Jobs, Blow Jobs, Passionate Kissing, Needy/Clingy Sherlock, Virgin Sherlock, Touching / Hand Holding, Bed Sharing, Little Spoon Sherlock, Intense Orgasms) – John and Sherlock go to New York to attend a conference run by the National Defence of Traditional Marriage Coalition in order to investigate the potential bombing of the annual Manhattan Pride parade. As the conference unfolds, John finds himself repulsed by the toxic ideology being presented, which becomes relevent to his own unacknowledged issues and his friendship with Sherlock...

A Goose Quill Dipped in Venom by Polyphony (M, 52,748 w., 16 Ch. || Celebrity John AU || Alternate First Meeting, TV Host John, Supermodel Mary, Character Death, Mystery, Romance, Case Fic, First Kiss/Time, Meddling Mycroft, Drug Abuse, Doctor John, PDA, Deductions, POV Sherlock, Toplock, Sexual Tension, Angry/Rough Sex, Hopeful Ending, Asperger’s Sherlock) – Sherlock Holmes, consulting detective, is called in to a very ordinary although brutal murder. Something is badly out of tune with the whole scenario and Sherlock finds himself becoming more and more obsessed with the crime - and also with the victim.

Isosceles by SilentAuror (E, 56,609 w., 7 Ch. || Post-S4, POV John, Original Male Character / Sherlock Dates Another Man, Love Triangle, Jealous John, Virgin Sherlock, Sexual Coaching, Angst, Romance, Domesticity, Unrequited Feelings, Miscommunication, First Kiss/Time, For a Case, Friends With Benefits, Bottomlock, Love Confessions, Spooning) – After solving a case for a major celebrity, Sherlock gets himself asked out. When John asks, he discovers that Sherlock has no intention of going, at least not until John agrees to coach him through whatever he might need to know for his date...

Lunar Landscapes by J_Baillier (M, 57,046 w., 21 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || S3/TAB Fix-It, Slow Burn Angst, Drama, Hurt/Comfort, Confessions, Drugs, Pain, Medical, Injury, Sherlock Whump, Mental Health Issues, Panic Attacks, Romance, Secrets, Tragedy, Trauma, BAMF John, Doctor!John, Drug Addict Sherlock, Injured Sherlock, Grieving John, Idiots In Love,  Protective John, POV John Watson, PTSD Sherlock, Sherlock is a Mess, Medical Realism) – An accident forces John to face the fact that Sherlock's downward spiral had started long before his flight to exile even left the tarmac.

Repairing the Broken Things by BakerTumblings (M, 75,252 w., 15 Ch. || S4 Compliant, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Medical Trauma, Hospitals, Big Brother Mycroft, Misunderstandings, Realizations, Severe Accident, John Whump, Pneumonia, Medical Procedures, Bed Sharing, First Time, Healing, Happy Ending) – "I'm calling today to notify you that there's been an accident."

Just To Hold You Close by sussexbound (E, 70,841 w., 18 Ch. || Alternate First Meeting, Sherlock POV, ASD Sherlock, PTSD John, Demisexual Sherlock, Bisexual John, Cuddling/Snuggling, Platonic Cuddling, Enthusiastic Consent, Bed Sharing, Love Confessions, First Kiss/Time, Sexual Tension, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Cuddle Negotiations, For a Case Until It Isn’t, Hair Petting, Sexual Negotiation, Anxiety, Trust Issues, Slow Burn, Panic Attacks, Frottage, Hand/Blow Jobs, Referenced Self Harm / Abuse / Suicidal Ideation, First Kiss/Time, Anal) – When a woman is murdered and the last person to see her alive is recently invalided army vet turned reluctant (and prickly) professional cuddler, John Watson, Sherlock Holmes is pulled into a world of intimacy and intrigue he never could have imagined. John is a conundrum and mystery: frank yet reserved, tender yet angry, open yet afraid. Sherlock is instantly drawn into his orbit, and begins to feel and desire things he never has before.

Gold Rush by ShirleyCarlton (E, 71,783 w., 17 Ch. || Post S3 / No Mary, Friends to Lovers, Mentions of Past Sexual Abuse, First Kiss, Case Fic, Slow Burn, Alternating POV, Switchlock, Angst with Happy Ending, Marriage Proposal, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Abduction, Anxious/Insecure Sherlock, Miscommunication, Emotional Lovemaking) – John has divorced Mary and pops round to 221B one evening to find Sherlock in the middle of a case. As Sherlock tries to find the identity of a young woman’s stalker, John realises he can no longer deny his feelings for Sherlock – which then, to their befuddlement, turn out to be mutual. Shy kisses and tentative embraces ensue. But will Sherlock be able to cast off a shadow from his past that he thinks might prevent John from wanting to stay?

Thermocline by J_Baillier (M, 83,557 w., 14 Ch. || Scuba Diving AU || Adventure, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Marine Archaeology, Asexual Sherlock, Horny John, Relationship Drama, Technical/Scuba/Wreck Diving, Slow Burn, Underwater /  Medical Peril, Doctor John, Hurt Sherlock, Anxious Sherlock, John POV, Protective John, Body Appreciation) – John "Five Oceans" Watson — technical dive instructor, dive accident analyst and weapon of mass seduction — meets recluse professor of maritime archaeology Holmes. As they head out to a remote archipelago off the coast of Guatemala to study and film its shipwrecks for a documentary, will sparks fly or fizzle out?

Kintsukuroi by sussexbound (E, 91,823 w., 20 Ch. || S4 Compliant / Post-TLD, Grief / Mourning, PTSD, Internalized Homophobia, Therapy, Past Abuse, Alcohol Abuse, Nightmares, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Depression, Anxiety, Bed Sharing, Love Confessions, Cuddling, Suicidal Ideation, Masturbation, Minor Character Death, Sexting, Frottage, Inexperienced Sherlock, Rimming / Anal / BJ’s, Emotional Turmoil, Finding Each Other) – “I love you.” Sherlock sees the words hit John with almost physical force. He reels back a little, jaw twitching and eyes filling. “I love you,” he repeats, a little softer, a little more gentle, as earnest as he possibly can. Because they’ve been teetering on the brink of this thing for years, and it had become painfully obvious over the last few months that they were at a tipping point. This had to happen. Now it has. Now they can see where they end up. The tears in John’s eyes spill over, and he wipes at them angrily. “Do you even know what that means?”  

The Summer Boy by khorazir (T, 94,706 w., 6 Ch. || Post S3/Post TAB/Alternate S4, Friends to Lovers, Flashbacks, Sussex, Bullying, 1980′s Kid Sherlock, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Inexperienced Sherlock, Grief/Mourning, Pining Sherlock, Background Case Fic) – About half a year after the fateful events at Appledore, Sherlock and John embark on a private case in Sussex. For Sherlock, it’s a journey into his past, bringing up memories both happy and sad that he has locked away for almost thirty years. For John, it means coming to terms with the present – and a potential future with Sherlock. Part 1 of the The Summer Boy series

Northwest Passage by Kryptaria (E, 95,157 w., 27 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Canadian AU ||  BAMF!John, Canadian John, PTSD, Anal / Oral Sex, Rimming, Emotional Hurt / Comfort, Drug Rehab, Falling in Love, Pining Sherlock, Love Confessions, Sherlock’s Violin, Panic Attacks, Switching, Anxious / Protective Sherlock, Hugs for Comfort, Suicide Mentions, Healing Each Other) – Seven years ago, Captain John Watson of the Canadian Forces Medical Service withdrew from society, seeking a simple, isolated life in the distant northern wilderness of Canada. Though he survives from one day to the next, he doesn't truly live until someone from his dark past calls in a favor and turns his world upside-down with the introduction of Sherlock Holmes." Part 1 of Tales from the Northwest

The Bang and the Clatter by earlgreytea68 (M, 137,049 w., 37 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Baseball AU || Slow Burn / Dev. Rel., Possessive/Obsessive Sherlock, Jealous Sherlock, Mutual Pining, Body Appreciation, Depression, Closeted Sexuality, Family, Sherlock’s Mind Palace, Ogling Each Other, Anxious Sherlock, Panic Attack, Drunkenness, Talk of Forever, Big Feelings™) – Sherlock Holmes is a pitcher and John Watson is a catcher. No, no, no, it's a baseball AU. Part 1 of Baseball

Against the Rest of the World by SilentAuror (E, 151,714 w., 20 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Post-TRF, Hiatus Fic, POV First Person Sherlock, Present Tense, First Kiss/Time, Big Brother Mycroft, Escaping from Capture, Soft Sherlock, Toplock, Insecurity, Infidelity, Travelling, Introspection, Pining Sherlock, Depression, Fantasies, Yearning for the Past, PTSD Sherlock, Suicidal Ideation) – Sherlock has been away from London for nine hundred and twelve days and counting, and has no idea what sort of reception to expect when he finally returns.

Proving A Point by elldotsee & J_Baillier (E, 186,270 w., 28 Ch. || Me Before You Fusion || Medical Realism, Insecure John, Depression, Romance, Angst, POV John, Sherlock Whump, Serious Illness, Doctor John, Injury Recovery, Assisted Suicide, Sherlock’s Violin, Awkward Sexual Situations, Alcoholism, Drugs, Idiots in Love, Slow Burn, Body Image, Friends to Lovers, Hurt / Comfort, Pain, Big Brother Mycroft, Intimacy, Anxiety, PTSD, Family Issues, Psychological Trauma, John Whump, Case Fics, Loneliness, Pain) – Invalided home from Afghanistan, running out of funds and convinced that his surgical career is over, John Watson accepts a mysterious job offer to provide care and companionship for a disabled person. Little does he know how much hangs in the balance of his performance as he settles into his new life at Musgrave Court.

[ironlime]

60 Years After

So somebody in the tumblrverse posted about their headcannon in which Ned Coats was Sam Vimes' kid having traveled through time. I am a fan of this. It explains a lot. So when I read it back in... April? I then sat down and wrote up this little fanfic thing. And assumed that I could not only get it posted today, but also edit it so that it's not filled with so many of my own headcannons. And is closer to the original material. But L-Space is my job, and it really does do crazy things to time (and space.) On top of that I was really hoping I could post this to that original headcannon post but... I can't find it. So, OP, if you come across this... Well, I'm sorry. I'm more sorry to Sir Terry (GNU), though.

Quick note: my friends and I have found it easier to call Vimes' kid "Wee Sam" than "Young Sam" because "Young Sam" is one of the names (along with Vimesy and Lance Constable Vimes) that Vimes calls his younger self and... yeah. We find it confusing when nerding out about a single series with two different characters called 'Young Sam'. So we Feegle it up. Even though I wouldn't be surprised if 'Wee Sam' is actually a bit taller than his dad.

~ ~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~

“What happened just then, Sarge? You blurred.” Wee Sam said, while he thought Oh so that’s what that looks like.

“You only get one question, Ned,” The man who would be his father looked a little seasick, and Wee Sam knew exactly how he felt. “Now, let’s show Snapcase where the line’s drawn, shall we? Let’s finish it--”

To the majority of people there that day, Sergeant-At-Arms John Keel stood, turned towards the enemy, and charged. To two people, Commander Sam Vimes ran towards Carcer, ready to drag him kicking and screaming into the past. Or the future. Depending on who you asked.

That was what gave Wee Sam his frame of reference, actually. He remembered hearing stories about Carcer, about how his dad had arrested the bastard the day Wee Sam was born. But was this actually May 25th for his dad? Was this weeks before the arrest? Hours? He couldn’t ask. Not yet.

“Glad to see you’ve joined us and are getting along with the Sarge, Coats.” Fred Colon said, touching him on the shoulder as they ran towards the fight.

“Yeah, Fred.” Oh, Fred. Fred Colon had died a few years ago, happy and surrounded by great-grandchildren. But here and now he was young and actually capable of running. And he was running towards the fray.

Sweeper had told Wee Sam to stay away from the center of the fight, and to try not to actually kill anybody, so he stayed on the edge near the unconscious Lance-Constable Sam Vimes who had been hidden by his older, more cynical self. Three men in a battle with the same name, and two of them were the same person. Good thing Wee Sam was the only one who had to really keep track of which of them was where. He certainly didn’t trust anybody else to.

So he fought, in a very curbed way, knocking his adversaries unconscious when he could and doing his best not to step on Nobby Nobbs, who was doing his best to very slowly inch away from the battle while simultaneously pretending to be a corpse. Over by the Watch House, Reg Shoe was doing a much better impersonation of a corpse, seeing as how he was one, but in a couple of hours he’d discover that it just didn’t work for him.

“You’re nicked, my ol’ chum.” It was probably because he had been listening for it, but his father’s whisper carried. Nobody else seemed to hear it, and nobody but Wee Sam turned in time to see the two men vanish. In the same instant, a single body appeared on the ground near where they had been. So, now that he had seen that through, there was one more…

A dark grey-green shadow passed by his shoulder, and his mind registered Uncle Havelock before adding the word Young.

Havelock Vetinari ran into the fight, cutting down Carcer’s men much more brazenly than the Assassin's Guild would like, a lilac bud between his teeth. Even in Wee Sam’s time, when Vetinari’s wardrobe consisted entirely of black and everything he did was in moderation, the Patrician indulged in a little drama on a regular basis.

He chose to have Commander Sam Vimes in his life, after all.

There was a sound to Wee Sam’s left, which he recognized though his mind didn’t associate any words with it. It was a sound any human would recognize, even those who first approached the Delta where the Ankh River met the Circle sea thousands of years ago. If Wee Sam had to find Morporkain words for it, and as a Vimes he did like to use his vocabulary, they were Confused, followed by Hurt followed by… wait for it… there it was. Anger.

Wee Sam could make that noise, though he rarely did. His father’s upbringing, on the other hand, had been considerably less balanced. The kid who was the source of the sound ran into the center of the fight, and Wee Sam deftly stepped out of his way while pushing an adversary in his way. The boy chopped down the Unmentionable with one graceful movement, and Wee Sam felt that he could safely say that he hadn’t been the one to kill the bastard. And nobody had been so foolish as to tell him to prevent his father from killing anybody.

Vetinari didn’t pause, but he did turn to look at this vengeful newcomer. Vetinari hadn’t been there when young Sam Vimes participated in the first part of the battle, and Wee Sam recognized the young assassin’s look of interest.

Tell me, Uncle Havelock, will you recognize him in 15 years? Or will you need to get him well and truly angry to realize you’ve found him?

Wee Sam knew this wasn’t the first time Havelock Vetinari saw Sam Vimes, but this was probably the first time he saw the potential. That he was more than just That Kid Who Follows Keel Everywhere. I bet you didn’t actually expect him to be so damned smart. His father still didn’t think of himself as intelligent. It was infuriating, especially when he and his father were having a disagreement. A drawn out, decade-long, disagreement.

Young Sam Vimes sent a lot of the Unmentionables running, and Wee Sam cut down any of them which could be seen as ‘coming towards him with a drawn weapon’. Since they were escaping a fight, that was anyone who came within reach not wearing a lilac.

Time travel really can get to a man. He thought, feeling a little cold. There would be no arrests here, just death and fleeing and at the end of the day Sam Vimes, Havelock Vetinari, Fred Colon, Gaskin, and, less literally, Nobby Nobbs and Reg Shoe would all be left standing. That was all that mattered.

He saw Vetinari turn away from young Sam Vimes, who then spun, and for the briefest moment they had their backs to each other, and Wee Sam wished he had his paints. It was a gods awful place to paint, there was a reason battles were always ‘immortalized’ after the fact, but the color and everything was just perfect--

And then the color faded.

“You should have fallen by now.” Sweeper observed from behind him.

“I wanted to see them fight together.” Wee Sam admitted, not turning. He had a notebook on him, and a pencil, but he knew that even with Time paused he didn’t really have it. Not to sit down and do a proper preliminary sketch. He was just going to have to remember.

Vetinari had a stiletto, an assassin’s weapon used to kill up-close. Young Sam Vimes hadn’t learned to dual-wield yet, but he had good instincts for the sword. Wait until you discover the axe.

Sweeper sighed. “Fine, and now you’ve seen it. I’m going to put the time back on and you had better be prepared to drop.”

“Yes yes alright.” Wee Sam shifted slightly, so he could seriously inconvenience the man who he was blocking before he dropped.

“Oh and stop killing people.”

“I’m a Vimes. You knew that when you hired me.”

“Indeed.” Sweeper said, and it took Wee Sam a moment to realize it was an attempt at a Vetinari impression. Before Wee Sam could reply, the color came back, and his adversary frowned in confusion.

“Oi, you blurred!” The man cried.

“This just isn’t your day.” Wee Sam gave the man a wound which might heal, if somebody tended to it within the next 10 minutes, and then fell over in a needlessly complicated way, specifically so he wouldn’t hit Nobby Nobbs.

And when he landed, the boy was looking right at him, frowning. Damn, Nobby was always the brains of Colon & Nobbs.

“You ain’t injured.” The boy hissed at him.

“Try to pick my pockets and you’ll regret it.” Wee Sam whispered back. Of course he wouldn’t dream of hurting Nobby, but the kid didn’t know that. Besides, picking the contents of his pockets back would be a relaxing way to end the day.

Nobby was still frowning at him. “You got eyes like the Sarge...”

“Nobby, get out of here before you get stepped on.” Wee Sam growled in his best imitation of his father, the Sergeant, within the past three days. The kid’s eyes went wide, and he took off running. Wee Sam glanced over to where Vimes and Vetinari were taking care of the last of Carcer’s men, and the color faded once more.

“I hope you are pleased with yourself.” Sweeper said, which Wee Sam took to mean he could stand up and dust himself off.

“Young Vimes and Vetinari live to grow up and become two of the most powerful men in Ankh-Morpork history, Carcer went back to his time more or less accompanied by my my dad so the one can be arrested by the other, your rogue ‘Time Vigilantes’ have been sorted out, oh and I don’t cease to exist either. My work here is d--” He stopped, and watched as Q and some other Technical Monks lay down a man about the same age, size and coloring as Wee Sam. “Wait, so there really was a Ned Coats?”

Sweeper had walked off without him, and Wee Sam jogged to catch up. The old monk didn’t turn to look at him when they were side-by-side, but he did start talking. “Of course there was. He was also from Psudopolis and knew the real Keel.”

“How’d he die?”

“The Agony Aunts, on his first day here. He was the real reason the real Keel accepted a job in Ankh-Morpork. The real Ned Coats was not a good man.”

“Keel... left his home to track down a criminal…” Wee Sam slowed. “That’s what my dad did! As Keel! Only, it was Carcer he had to catch.”

“Time likes continuity.” Sweeper nodded, and thanked Wee Sam quietly for holding the door open as they entered the monastery. Once in the building, color returned, with motion and sounds and smells. They were back in the Present.

The walk through the building was in relative silence, the rumbling of the procrastinators keeping it from ever becoming truly quiet here. Wee Sam could sleep almost anywhere, but the rumbling reminded him of the steam engines back home and Susan’s offer to help him find a job in Sto Lat ‘if he really couldn’t stay in Ankh-Morpork’.

Not long after his parents first met his dad had gotten fired for a couple of days, and his mom had offered to get him a job working for Susan’s parents. Susan had been young then, and sometimes he wondered what kind of person she would have grown up to be with his dad as part of her household staff.

Of course, with his parents living in two different cities, he would have never been born.

His mother would have never left Ankh-Morpork.

Then again, his father had chosen not to leave. He had stayed on the case. He… sorted it out, more or less. He kept Vetinari from getting killed. Had he done that during the battle? Young Sam and Vetinari had been facing opposite directions, had Vimesy blocked any blows aimed at the future patrician?

There was the crunch of stones under his feet, and Wee Sam consciously acknowledged they had arrived at the Garden of Inner-City Tranquility. His eyes swept the space, falling on and acknowledging the Cigarette Pack of Air, the Cat Doings of Disharmony, the Sonkie of Organic Harmony, the Cabbage Stalks of Dim Comprehension, the Discarded Fish-And-Chip Wrapper of Infinity, the Beer Bottle of Pissing Off Sweeper, and….

“The Cigar of Capriciousness is still here.” Wee Sam said, stopping between the door and the bench Sweeper always went to. He tilted his head slightly. “Or… Another cigar. Same brand, same style, smoked the same amount, probably by the same man, at the same angle... but it’s wrapped just a little differently.”

“Is it? I’ve stopped noticing.”

“You haven’t noticed the cigar that’s been smouldering here for the past month?” Wee Sam turned to Sweeper in disbelief. “I understand not paying attention to the condoms and cat doings, but time passes in here!”

Sweeper shrugged. “There is always a cigar. Even if we get rid of it, a new one shows up. If the new one lands closer to the wall, the garden always pushes it to the center.”

“Always? Since, what, the dawn of time?”

“Oh no. Since the day you were born. Or thirty years before. It’s hard to say.” Sweeper was looking at him evenly, and Wee Sam suddenly realized his reaction was being gauged.

“My dad. But…” Wee Sam looked at the cigar. “He doesn’t smoke them anymore.”

“He does. On special occasions.”

“Like what?”

“Your birthday. And when he pays certain visits.”

“He talked you into not keeping me on?” His gaze moved swiftly from the old man to the cigar, and with purpose he stalked into the middle of the garden and brought his foot back, prepared to give the thing a swift kick.

“You did that just fine without his help.” Sweeper’s voice was quiet, but it froze Wee Sam where he stood. “Corporal, we both know you don’t want to do this.”

“The mission is over. Coats is dead. I’m not a corporal anymore.” His foot fell heavily, not coming into contact with the cigar but still sending a spray of stones ahead of them. He scowled as they came sliding back towards him, settling where they had been around his foot. “This job is the closest I’ve ever gotten to what I was made to do.”

“I realize that. I’m sorry.”

There was some silence as the last of the stones slid into place. The procrastinators here were small, used only for the bathrooms in the far right corner, even though the city’s sewer pipe system now meant that they were just inconveniencing themselves in exchange for saving very little money. Wee Sam had done the math.

“Did you tell Susan?” Wee Sam didn’t want to be the one to tell her, but he also didn’t want anybody else to explain that he had squandered this opportunity.

“No. That is your problem, my boy.”

“Good.” Wee Sam squatted down, getting a closer look at his father’s cigar. The smell brought him back to his childhood, and it was comforting if not at all healthy. His mother had never allowed them in the house, but his father smoked them all the time outside and in his office, so the scent clung to his uniform like… Well like Wee Sam had back then. “Please don’t hold… me... against her. She was just looking out for me. She does that. Wish I knew why.”

“She is aware of your potential.” Sweeper said, and Wee Sam was so surprised he looked over his shoulder at the old man. “You’re good at investigating and putting the pieces together. And, some day, you will once again make a very good cop.”

“Someplace other than Ankh-Morpork.” Wee Sam grunted, but the old man shrugged, and he asked, hopefully “In Ankh-Morpork but in the future?”

“That is not for me to say.”

“No, it’s for my father to say.” He glared at the cigar, and then pushed himself to a standing position.

“You know, I didn’t just take you on because Susan asked and there happened to be another Vimes-shaped opening.” Sweeper said as Wee Sam turned towards the door.

“No?”

“I wanted to get to know the man the Theives Guild deemed ‘too dangerous’ for membership.” Sweeper sounded amused, and Wee Sam turned to look at him.

“I keep killing people. Assassin's school graduate, and all.” Wee Sam reminded him, but Sweeper waved the comment away.

“We both know neither of those things are relevant to today’s theive’s guild.” Sweeper shook his head. “Your father is afraid of you becoming him; and, well, so is everyone else. Vimeses walk in and take control. Especially under Vetinari’s influence.”

“And how do you know what my father is afraid of?” Wee Sam asked, narrowing his eyes. He was choosing to ignore the comment about Vetinari’s influence because it was true. After 300 years of cops and / or drunks it took Havelock Vetinari telling his father ‘not’ to investigate three deaths to bring his family name back to the list of the city’s gentry.

“You should ask him.” Sweeper did not ignore the narrowed eyes, but he did meet them evenly. “What he’s afraid of.”

Wee Sam turned towards the door, intending to stalk out, then thought better of it and spun so he was completely facing the old man. “You know what? I think I will.”

Then he ran, took a leap to place one foot on the bench beside Sweeper and jumped so his hands easily grasped the top of the wall. His own momentum brought him sideways, and he hurtled over the top. There was an alley on the other side, and he landed lightly. He was exactly where he expected to be, of course, and took off at a run towards the Cemetery of Small Gods.

And slowed to a walk before he reached the gates. It would not do for him to be out of breath when he arrived at the graves.

Twilight was falling, so his dad would be there, but so would Uncle Havelock and maybe Reg Shoe. Wee Sam was less concerned about how Reg saw him, especially now that he had seen Reg alive, but as far as his family was concerned he wanted to take steps towards appearing dignified. Even though they had known him his whole life, and knew better.

Sure enough, he passed Reg first. The Zombie was carrying a long-handled shovel over his left shoulder, and nodded in acknowledgement. Wee Sam managed to nod back before they passed each other.

He had expected Reg to recognize him. Reg had never noticed him behind the barricade, his father never noticed him behind the barricade, but Wee Sam had been playing Ned Coats for a full month before Sam Vimes had shown up as John Keel. Maybe Reg had never noticed that his father was Keel? How did Zombie memories work, anyway? Their brains certainly weren’t making new pathways… Did vampyre brains make new pathways?

This train of thought kept him pretty well occupied, along with the question of how he could politely go about getting some answers, when he noticed Uncle Havelock and his ‘cane’ striding silently towards him. A simple nod wouldn’t do.

“Good evening, Uncle Havelock.” Wee Sam called, since his mother had drummed into his head that you always greeted your superiors first. Admittedly, this sometimes meant that he approached his uncle with a question about what he would call the color of the sunset above a specific building at that exact moment, or if there was a poison which exploded in a particularly satisfactory fashion, but the patrician never complained. Nor did he complain if Wee Sam wandered in his office and started talking about alternative methods for coding clax messages or an unusual bird he had noticed riding the thermals above the University. And, thank gods, Havelock Vetinari knew that a formal greeting from Wee Sam Vimes meant that he didn’t want to talk.

“Happy Birthday, Wee Sam.” His uncle replied, “I trust you’ll be on time for dinner?”

Oh. That was a reminder. And a warning. “Thank you. Yes, we won’t be long.”

“Good. See you then.” The Patrician nodded, and then passed him.

“Yes.” Wee Sam muttered, and then reached for his pocket watch. When he pulled it out, he saw the time was all wrong and swore quietly. Well, from the graves he would be able to see the Tower of Art, and set his watch to the present. The battle of the lilac boys had been in the mid-morning, and it was most definitely not a quarter to noon.

John Keel’s grave marker was wood, and though it had been replaced often it had never been strong enough to support the weight of an average-sized man. Reg’s, on the other hand, was granite, and he apparently didn’t mind that Commander Sam Vimes leaned against it more and more every year.

Wee Sam didn’t make any noise, he never made any noise, but he could never sneak around his father. Commander Sam Vimes turned his head ever so slightly, and Wee Sam tooka good look at him.

Oh gods, he was so old. When had that happened? True, the last time he had seen his father he must have been about 50, but before that Wee Sam had spent three decades watching his father age and yet… It had never struck him so hard. He never could quite reconcile his memories of young Sam Vimes, that kid who had joined The Watch for three square meals a day and a little extra cash for his family. But he hadn’t thought his father had changed so much.

The old man looked him up and down. “How’d the battle go? After I left?”

Wee Sam stopped abruptly, and looked down at his outfit. He had forgotten to change into the clothes he had left at the monastery. This outfit was a uniform the Monks had given him, so he wouldn’t have the problems ‘accidental’ time travelers experienced with their clothes and meals and things staying in the time they came from. He even still had his lilac, somehow, even though that had come from the past.

“Don’t you remember?” You kicked ass.

His father shook his head. “I remember the original timeline, when Keel died at the barricade. I was pretty sure Coats wasn’t there.”

“Yeah, I don’t think he was, either.”

“I guess Vetinari showed up?” His father smirked. “Had a lilac in his teeth and everything?”

“I thought you didn’t remember it.” Wee Sam frowned.

“I don’t, but he tells me about it sometimes. I think he’s waiting for me to remember, or maybe now he’s wondering why I don’t.”

“Because time travel is a mess.” Wee Sam turned away from his father and looked across the city. He could see his family’s house from here.

“So Sweeper explained it to you?” The interest in his voice was practically tactile.

“No, but I had to run around for a month foiling somebody who had been sent to kill Havelock Vetinari. And it gave me time to wonder.”

“Why it was different the first time around?”

Wee Sam shook his head. “Would I have survived being born if you didn’t go back and meet Lawn?”

There was absolute silence between them, until Commander Sam Vimes quietly swore.

“Sweeper told me you have to think of things as one event in front of another, which is fine, except if you hadn’t gone back in time you wouldn’t have known Lawn was competent. You had heard of him, sure, but he would have never crossed your mind.”

“So we owe your existence to the damn time monks?” There was an angry edge to his father’s voice, but Wee Sam already knew his father was protective as hell. That was how he had gotten into this mess. Sort of.

“No. As far as I can tell, we owe it to some modern young idiots who thought they could go back and kill Vetinari. Time tries to fix things, and so you were sent back in time, to meet Lawn and Carcer went with you and killed Keel so there was a place for you to be and when you were done my life got saved and the monks were able to send me back to save Vetinari’s life and… Time is what it should be. Go us.” There was something about owing his life to terrorists that made him feel sarcastic.

“For all we know Vetinari or Rosie Palm might have recommended Lawn.” His father pointed out, which wasn’t a bad alternative. But it wasn’t what had happened, and there wasn’t really anybody they could ask. At least, nobody who they could ask who would give them a meaningful answer. They both knew Vetinari was a capable doctor, but apparently neither of them could imagine Vetinari getting involved in a problematic birth when there were other competent people around to do it.

More silence. Wee Sam noticed the time on the Tower of Art, and pulled his watch back out. If they were going to avoid talking about the massive argument they had that morning, he may as well take the time to re-set his watch.

“There was the sound of dice.” His father said so quietly that it didn’t initially register.

“Hm?” Wee Sam pushed the pin in, and watched with satisfaction as his watch and the tower struck the time at the exact same minute.

“Before the Library got struck by lightning. There was the sound of dice. Were the people who wanted to kill Havelock associated with a specific god?”

“I… Don’t know. They didn’t say anything about one.” He shut the watch, and shoved it in his pocket. ‘Havelock’ meant his dad was worried. “But there was a thunderstorm, right? Was the sound of dice rolling at the exact moment as the thunder?’

“Yes.”

“Io!” They both said it at the same moment, and Wee Sam felt his heart fall to his stomach. The self-proclaimed King of the Gods had been trying to subjugate their family for a long time. The only reason he had eased up lately was because Wee Sam had trained with the witches in Lancre. And so, to a lesser extent, had his father. It made them harder targets. But Io was still The Thunder God because he had murdered all the others. And then there was the question of who he would be forced to answer to. And how. Neither of the Vimes men had an axe sharp enough for that.

“Damn, why didn’t I realize that?” His father asked the night at large.

“The gods are always playing games. And besides, you had no reason to think Io was responsible for… Well he’s probably not responsible for the Dragon Incident, at least. Or the Goblin Incident.”

“Yeah, but we’ve been operating under the assumption that he was involved in that Dam Slam.” He was rubbing his thumb thoughtfully over the inside of his left wrist, where the Mark of the Summoning Dark had been. When Wee Sam was 8 it had changed, to a symbol generally called the Guarding Dark by anyone who cared to reference it. His father never talked about either Mark, but Wee Sam didn’t blame him. The Marks were indicative of 7 year period which did a number on his view of magic, and his identity.

Speaking of.

“I haven’t told Susan yet, but the monks kicked me out.” He tapped his toe against the grass, bringing it down as softly as he could so it wouldn’t damage the grass. Leggy would be so mad if he damaged his precious ‘terf’.

“Do you want to be a Monk?” His father asked quietly.

“No, I want to be a Watchman.” He whispered. Today was his 30th birthday, though technically he was a month older than that. He felt so much older than that. “But you’re apparently so terrified of me getting myself hurt that you’ve been doing Every Damned Thing you can think of to get between me and that and so I went ahead and tried to join almost any guild in the city and quite a few refused me and I’ve been kicked out of Each. And. Every. One. which would take me and now the only thing I can think of is taking Susan up on her offer to put in a good word for me with the Sto Lat Watch unless you’re going to step in and mess that up too and I wish you would knock it the hells off because as much as I love mum and her dragons I cannot spend the rest of my life working at the damn dragon sanctuary so--”

“Corporal.” His father’s voice was conversational, and somebody who had spent less time listening for the Commander’s voice probably wouldn’t have heard it.

“I’m not finished! Will you--” Wee Sam stopped abruptly. “Is that why you made me a Corporal? You couldn’t have recognized me. I hadn’t been born yet!”

“I recognized potential. And I was right, though you didn’t have as much control as I originally thought. Was all that sparring really necessary?”

“You’ve been standing between me and what I’ve been made to do!”

“And how would 50 year old me have known that?”

“It was easier to fight… him… than you.” Wee Sam grumbled, then realized he was starting to dig up the sod with his toe. Feeling bad about the grass, he brought his toe down in the other direction, to flatten it back down.

“Easier? I kicked your ass. I’d probably have a harder time of it now.”

“I never wondered if I should hold back.” Wee Sam admitted.

“Ah.” The 80 year old nodded. “I know that feeling. I’ve often wondered what it would be like if Vetinari and I had a proper fight when we were young.”

“You could sell tickets and solve all the city’s financial problems.” Wee Sam shifted his gaze to his father. “Actually you probably still could--”

“No. Your mother would have a conniption.”

“Oh right. Yeah, she would. Shame.”

“Do I want to know who you think would win?”

“No.”

“Your faith in me is staggering.”

“Well I figure either it would be a draw or he’d kick your--”

“Yes I understood your answer to my question, thank you.” But he was smiling ever so slightly.

And then the city’s clocks started chiming 9 in the evening. His father pushed himself slowly to his feet, and Wee Sam offered his arm. Cheery had offered to get his father an axe to use as a cane, but Commander Vimes would not hear of it. He did touch Wee Sam’s arm briefly, but once he was standing straight he let go, and the pair of them headed towards the exit.

They didn’t bother to try talking until the clocks had stopped, about five minutes after Wee Sam’s watch struck the hour.

“Did those people who tried to kill young Vetinari have any friends who stayed in our time?”

“I believe so.” They were walking slowly, and Wee Sam waited a full block before he added. “You want me to turn all my information over to anyone in particular?”

“I’m not afraid of you getting hurt.” It didn’t seem like a related response, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t. “I mean, of course I am, but that’s not why I’ve been saying no.”

“Really?”

“I don't want people treating you like a target for their hate for me. If you could join the way Carrot or Angua or Cheery did, that would be fine. But it’s gotten so big since they joined up.”

“Ah.” He didn’t know what else to say.

“I don’t think it would be any better if you joined anywhere else within the Clacks network.”

“Which is pretty much the whole world at this point.”

“And there’s all this scrying now.”

“Which doesn’t need towers.”

His father glared at him, but didn’t tell him to knock it off. “So I suspect your joining a Watch anywhere would ultimately be just as risky.”

“Which is your reasoning for why I shouldn’t bother with Sto Lat.”

“No, my reasoning for why you shouldn’t bother with Sto Lat is that we pay better and have the best medical benefits on the Sto Plains.”

Wee Sam stopped abruptly. “What.”

“You survived the Watch I started out in. As far as I’m concerned, you can handle today’s watch.” The old man stopped and looked back at him. “You’re going to be the oldest cadet though. Because I’m not going to let you jump straight to Corporal. We’re not at war.”

“Right. Yeah. That’s fine.”

“We’re going to be late if you don’t get moving.”

“Right.” Wee Sam managed to keep himself from skipping, so the pent up energy became a jog to his father’s side. They walked in silence, Wee Sam’s mind racing as he wondered if there was some way for him to accidentally mess this up.

“You should give your mother two week’s notice though. It’s only fair.”

“You didn’t run this by her first?” Wee Sam turned to him, shocked.

“Oh we’ve been talking about this for years.” The unspoken word ‘decades’ hung in the air between them. “Her, Vetinari, Carrot, Angua, Cheery--”

“Cheery?”

“She and Igor think you should be in forensics. I mean, it’s your choice of course-- after you pass the tests.”

“Forensics would be great.” He agreed, and thought about how fun it could be to put his Medical and Alchemical and Assassin training to something useful for once. Which reminded him “You know, there is a smouldering cigar in the center of The Garden of Inner City Tranquility at the Monastery.”

“Yeah, it hit me after you left. I had called you ‘sunshine’ during our fight, and Vetinari basically asked how you were handling turning 30, and seeing him standing there with the lilac pinned to his shirt it hit me.” He paused for a moment. “He wore it in the original timeline too, you know. I wish I had asked, but we didn’t get along as well then.”

Wee Sam felt his mouth tug into a half-smile. For his father and the patrician, ‘getting along as well’ involved an increased number of arguments. Also, he remembered ‘Keel’ using that ironic term of endearment during their spar. “You realized I was Ned Coats.”

“So I… walked as fast as I could… to the Monastery and… knocked on the damned door… And threatened to make one hell of a scene if Sweeper didn’t let me in.”

“So of course he did.”

“Of course.”

“And he took you to the garden. And… you told him what you worked out?”

“Actually I just told him that if anything happened to you I was holding him personally responsible. I knew Ned Coats died. I just didn’t know if he died the way John Keel died. I hadn’t stayed long enough to find out.”

“And what did he say?”

“He asked if my holding him responsible was more or less lethal than Susan Sto Helit holding him responsible.”

Wee Sam laughed. “Sweeper hasn’t met mum.”

“Yeah, that’s true.” His father chuckled quietly. “Anyway, Susan will be at dinner so you can tell her all about how the monks kicked you out with an audience. Your mother will find it interesting, I’m sure.”

“Does mum know about you going back...”

“Oh yes. Vetinari can’t keep a secret from her.” And neither could her husband.

“Will there be anybody at the dinner who doesn’t know?”

“Hm, no. I don’t think so. You were the only one who wasn’t in a position to make conversation then, and while Susan wasn’t involved in my adventure as far as I can tell…”

“But with Susan who knows. In any case, I think I’ll wait until we can get some privacy.”

“Suit yourself, but be warned. Everyone knows I told you I was ok with you joining the Watch. They’ll make a big deal about it. You know how they are.”

Wee Sam looked up at the big, brightly-lit, house as they waited for his dad to fully get his breath back. “I’ll try to be strong.”

Commander Sam Vimes snorted. Wee Sam opened the door, held it while his father entered the house, and followed right behind him.

[electronicgrowth]

Can’t Get Enough Part 8

The two most stubborn people in Knockemstiff, Ohio have eyes for only each other. Lee Bodecker is determined to become the town’s next sheriff. He knows that image is everything. Billie Dechswaan doesn’t care about her image at all. All she wants is to leave Knockemstiff and never come back. But Lee has other plans for her. Both are far too stubborn to give up their own plans. What happens when they can’t get enough of each other? 

A/N: So, this is a long one. If I’m honest, I’ve lost a lot of my vigor for this story. I still have quite a bit of story written, so maybe I’ll find the inspiration again. But if I’m totally honest.... I’m wildly depressed. Like barely functioning. I’m going to keep posting what I already have written, but I’m not sure if I’ll finish what I had initially planned out. 

That day started like any other for Lee Bodecker. He awoke with a headache. A consequence of drinking too much the night before. He peeled himself out of his bed, before stumbling to the bathroom for a shower. He was disappointed. Nearly a week since John passed and Billie had yet to show her face. Maybe she didn’t care. Maybe she really had cut off all contact with her family. Maybe she even found a new guy and had already given him a whole bunch of babies. 

The last thought made Lee feel nauseous. And not in the hangover kind of way. 

After the shower, Lee shaved. He may feel like a mess but he couldn’t show it. Then he proceeded to pick up the beer bottles from the counter and dispose of them. He liked the house clean when he got home. Even if he just proceeded to make the same mess all over again. 

He made his way to work. Nobody at the station greeted him. It was a well-known fact that Sheriff Bodecker was not a morning person. Lee was able to enjoy two cups of coffee while he did some paperwork. The morning passed without incident. Miss Edna, the receptionist came in at exactly noon with more paperwork for Lee, a fresh cup of coffee and a sandwich. She’d worked at the station for 30 years. And no matter who the sheriff was, she always made him a sandwich for lunch. Edna was the glue that kept the station running. No one dared talk back to her, not even Lee.

After lunch, Tim Mitchell rushed into Lee’s office. Not even stopping at his desk. 

“You alright, Mitchell?” Lee asked the deputy. 

“Yes sir,” he responded, “Thought you’d wanna know I dropped Sylvie and the baby off at her mama’s house this morning.”

“Why would I need to know that?” Lee hissed. 

“Joy had a vistor. One I think you would be very interested in seeing.” 

“Billie?” Could it be? Lee didn’t dare let himself hope.

“Yes, but I think the person with her might be of more interest to you.” 

A husband? A boyfriend?

“Just spit it out,” Lee groaned in annoyance. 

“Billie had a little girl with her,” Tim answered, “She’s probably about four. Thought you’d wanna know.” 

Lee was shocked. So, that letter Billie had sent him about losing the baby wasn’t true after all. A four-year-old. She had to be Lee’s. That meant that Lee was a father. Of a child. Not a baby. He was utterly gobsmacked. 

“Thank you, Mitchell,” he dismissed. Mitchell nodded before exiting the office. Lee took a moment, not to collect his thoughts, no. A moment to collect his jacket and run out the door to tell the undersheriff that he was leaving and not to disturb him. Lee sped to the Dechswaan farm. He broke every traffic law. It was a good thing that he was sheriff. 

He practically ran from his car to the door. Lee proceeded to pound on the door with his fist four times. Not caring if he was rude. He was here for something that belonged to him. 

She opened the door as Lee resumed his pounding. He looked shocked that she’d open the door. Almost like he didn’t believe she was really here. He was dressed in his sheriff’s uniform. He’d gained a bit of weight since she last saw him, he was still handsome though. And Lee surveyed how much curvier Billie was too. She really looked like a woman.

“Let’s go for a walk, Lee,” she said before he could speak. She closed the door and walked down the porch. She marched through the yard, arms crossed. He followed silently, he was fuming. And yet, he couldn’t take his eyes off of her. The way she swayed as she walked. Lee let her lead him all the way to the barn before saying anything. 

“Okay, talk,” he commanded. 

“What do you want me to say?” Billie asked, turning to him but keeping her distance from him.

“Tim said you had a little girl with ya,” Lee accused. 

“I do. My daughter.”

“How old is she?”

“Four.” 

Lee nodded and tenses his jaw, “So, she’s mine then?” 

“Yeah,” Billie conceded, no emotion on her beautiful face. 

“Why? Why didn’t you tell me? You said you miscarried,” Lee muttered, feeling betrayed. 

“Because you are a steamroller. And heaven help anyone who gets in your way, Lee. I wasn’t about to let you take away all my options. I owed it to myself to try my hand in New York.” Her face was scrunching up in angry. 

“And you owed it to me to tell me about my kid!” 

“You think I don’t know that? I regret it everyday, but I can’t take back the past now!” She shouted. 

“That’s it? That’s all you regret?” Lee countered, stepping closer to her.

“Of course not,” Billie scoffs, rolling her eyes and turning away from Lee. But he was quick to grab her, pull her back towards him. 

“What then? What do you regret,” he growls, his face just inches from hers. Her eyes flicked down to his lips. She swayed closer. Lee thought, for just a moment, that she might try to kiss him. But she regained her composure and met his eyes once again.

“Alright, you listen here Lee Bodecker. I’m only gonna say this once,” she begins quietly, “I was wrong. And you were right. I should never have left. And I’m sorry.” 

“Oh, sugar,” Lee laughs bitterly, releasing his grip on her arm, “I’m definitely gonna make you say that all again.” 

Billie crosses her arms, and smirks at him. 

“I knew you’d say that,” she says, “Good thing I’m prepared to beg.” He’s shocked at her tone, she’s toying with him. She knows just what buttons to push to get him right where she wants him. He knows he’ll be putty in her hands soon enough, he’ll give her anything she asks for. But she deserves a little punishment for all the years he was forced to live without her.

“And why was it a mistake, sugar?” He coaxes. 

“There are a lot of reasons it was a mistake,” she counters, looking at her hands, picking at her cuticles. 

“Tell me,” Lee demands. 

“Well, no one in New York wants some hick with an accent teaching their kids. I got a useless degree. And I surely know how to pick my men. The first boy I ever went on a date with tried to rape me months later with his buddies. You got me pregnant on purpose. And the one I dated to try and forget you used me as his personal punching bag.”

“He hit you?” 

“It’s been awful, Lee. I-I can’t do anything right. I always think I’m making the right decision, but it’s always the wrong one. And if you want me to say it then I will. I’m at rock bottom. And I shouldn’t have left you,” she murmurs. 

“Why?” Lee challenges. 

“You know why.” 

“No, tell me.”

“The biggest mistake was thinking I could stay away from you. But don’t think for one minute that it’s because I need you.”

“Then why can’t you stay away if you don’t need me,” Lee narrows his eyes. 

“B-because I love you,” she mutters the sentence so quietly Lee almost couldn’t hear her. 

“You love me?” He smirks. 

“Yeah,” she shakes her head. 

“Alright darlin’. I’m gonna tell you how this will go.”

“Alright.” 

“We’re going to the courthouse tonight and making this official. I don’t care if I have to haul the judge in myself. When people ask, we’ll say we reconnected recently and decided to keep it small given the circumstances.” 

“Just like I said, you’re a steamroller,” Billie chuckled, “You think you have all the power. But I know what you’ve been doing here.”

“Oh yeah,” Lee challenged, “What have I been doing?”

“I heard all about Sandy and Carl, and you killing Leroy Brown and you taking bribes,” Billie spat. 

“Well, we’ve both made mistakes. I’ve only done what I’ve done for you. To provide for you. I take those bribes because it makes me more money,” Lee yelled. 

“And you got yourself in some hot water in the process. I heard you even fucking got shot. Do you know what that was like for me? I nearly came home when I heard that, I thought you were going to die. You need to be more careful Lee,” Billie shot back.

Billie realized that she had Lee right where she wanted him. He was her ticket away from Larry. He was more than capable of protecting her from that bastard. And she’d be lying if she said she didn’t want him. Billie walked forward to Lee and pushed him up against the side of the barn. She looked up at him with her big doe eyes. 

“Do you love me, Lee?” She asked, pressing her body against his. 

“Do you love me?” He countered, suspicious of her. 

“I do. I really love you,” she whispered, her hands rubbing down his chest and stomach until she cupped his cock through his pants, “So, let me tell you how this is gonna go. We’ll go to the courthouse when I’m ready. You’re not going to punish me for leaving even though I know you really want to.” She undoes his belt and pants, her hand slips into his underwear and she grips his cock, slowly jacking him off. His head lolls back to hit the barn wall. “You are going to be more careful going forward. No fights that involve guns. You are not getting shot again. Because you’re gonna have a wife and a baby that need you.” Lee groans, eyes shut, enjoying her hands on him for the first time in five years. “I’ll let you fuck me raw. Let you get me pregnant again. I’ll give you all the babies you want. I bet you would like that wouldn’t you, honey?” Lee nods pathetically. Her hand is moving up and down his length at a brutal pace, Lee jerks his hips, chasing the pleasure. “But you have to protect me. And you’re going to give me anything I want.” Billie leans up and licks Lee’s neck. “You’ll give me a nice house and pretty dresses. And I’ll just be at home all day, dripping for you. Waiting for you to come home and fuck me so good. Keep me full of you. Don’t you wanna be inside me, Lee?” Lee groans loudly. Billie sucks a hickey into Lee’s neck, and forces his lips down to meet hers. “I’m gonna help you become mayor one day, so just tell me you love me. And I can make all that happen for ya.” 

“Shit, baby. I love you so fucking much,” Lee grunts, his arms locking Billie against him, “Don’t leave me again.” 

“I promise I won’t,” she gasped, as she started to get down on her knees, but Lee grabbed her elbow and kept her upright. He grabbed her and slammed her against the barn. He caged her in and caught her lips. He holds onto her waist like he may never let her go. Her tongue is everywhere. It’s becomes clear to Lee that Billie is just as desperate for him as he is for her. Billie pulls away, panting for air and stares into Lee’s eyes. All he can see is how much she loves him, and he wonders if she sees the same thing in his eyes. He bends down to pick her up, her legs wrap around him. With one arm he holds her up, with the other he moves her panties to the side and grips his cock, preparing to plunge inside her. He rubs his length against her slit for a moment. Then rapidly shoves himself inside. He’s brutally fucking into her and she’s a mess. Desperate for anything he’ll give her. 

“Lee,” she whined. He smirked. 

“You like that baby?” he teased. She nodded. 

“You feel so good,” she cried, her head lolled back to hit the wall of the barn. Lee can see in her eyes that she’s totally lost in pleasure. Her eyes are unfocused and glazed over. He continues to pummel in and out of her.

“Did he fuck you like this?” He growled into her neck.

“He never fucked me,” she moaned, “I wouldn’t let him.”

“Why?” He teased.

“B-because….” 

“Because why?” He was just being cruel trying to get coherent answers at of her at this moment.

“Because I only ever wanted you.” If there was one sentence that ever made Lee’s cock so hard and warmed his heart so much it was that sentence. 

“Honey,” he murmured forcing her to pay attention to him, slowing his thrusts, “tell me that you love me.” 

“I love you so much, Lee,” she sobbed. 

“You gonna cum, honey?” He asked. 

“Yes.” 

“Play with your clit,” he demands. Billie is quick to comply. Her fingers skate down between them to find her clit and she rubs circles against herself. Lee speeds up again. 

“What do you want, baby?” 

“I want your cum, Lee. Please give it to me.” Lee wasn’t about to leave his girl hanging, as soon as she begins to tighten around him, he lets himself go. He comes inside her with a grunt of her name. She’s quick to follow, letting out a high pitched shriek. 

He pants against her lips, before taking out a handkerchief from his back pocket. He wipes off his cock and cleans between her legs and shoves the handkerchief into his back pocket. Billie leaned up against the side of the barn, desperately trying to catch her breath. 

“You want to meet your daughter?” Billie asked, as Lee tucked himself back into his pants. 

“Really?” Lee looked shocked at the offer. 

“Yeah, of course,” Billie scoffed. 

“What if she doesn’t like me?” 

“She will. She likes most people,” Billie promised. 

“Most people?” He questioned. 

“She only ever dislikes people that give her a reason,” Billie answered. She grabbed Lee’s hand and pulled him back to the house. His thumb dragged across her knuckles. He didn’t know if he’d ever let go of her hand. 

“Just grab a seat,” Billie said, gesturing towards the couch in the living room, “She’s just napping.” Billie sat down next to Lee. She kicked her shoes off, and draped her legs across his lap. 

“So, what’s it like to be sheriff?” she smirked, the way her eyes lit up was the same as when she was eighteen. When she used to tease him in the front seat of his car. 

“It’d be better if I had less idiot deputies,” Lee chuckles. 

“Well, you better get on that Sheriff,” Billie teased, “But you like it?”

“I do. It’s nice to be in charge,” Lee responded. Billie hummed. She knew that he liked to be in charge. 

“Sheriff Bodecker,” Joy sighed, as she entered the front sitting room, “How are you doing?” 

“I’m good. How are you holding up, Joy?” Lee asked. He allowed concern to flash across his face. Even though he knew of his role in her grief. 

“Much better now that my Billie is home,” she answered, petting Billie’s hair. 

“I feel the same way,” Lee smiled dreamily. 

“You gonna make an honest woman outta my daughter then?” Joy joked. 

“I think I will,” Lee laughed. 

“Good, good. We could use the happiness of a wedding around here. Or more babies,” Joy beamed as she went back to the kitchen. 

Lee smirked down at Billie after the baby comment from her mother. Billie toyed with Lee’s hands, avoiding his gaze, and intense blush colored her cheeks, despite the fact that Lee had been balls deep inside her ten minutes ago, coaxing her to promise him more babies.

“Mama,” called a small voice. 

“I’m right here, baby,” Billie answered getting up from the couch and going to the stairs. Beth took each step down slowly. Her hair and dress were rumpled. When Beth reached Billie, she attempted to smooth her daughters hair and clothes. 

“I have someone I want you to meet,” Billie cooed. Picking her daughter up. Billie went back to the couch and sat down with Beth in her lap. 

“Lee, this is Beth,” Billie said. Lee smiles down at the little girl. Beth decides to take the opportunity to lean as far forward as she can to see Lee. He’s surprised that she’s not shy. He’s a stranger after all. She reaches out to touch his badge. Seemingly intrigued by the star-like plaque. 

“Are you a policeman?” She asks him. 

“Yeah, I’m a sheriff,” he tells her. 

“What’s that?” She asks. 

“That means he’s in charge of all the other policemen around here. Uncle Tim is a policeman and this is his boss,” Billie says patiently. 

“Do you catch the bad guys?” Beth quizzes, looking up from his badge to his eyes.

“Yeah, I guess you could say that,” Lee chuckles. Beth wriggles out of Billie’s lap and closes the very small distance between her and Lee. She climbs onto his lap and continues to play with the edges of his badge. 

“I have a bad guy for you to get,” she tried to whisper, it comes out less quiet and more like a stage whisper. 

“Sure thing, peanut,” he said affectionately. He’s expecting her to tell him about the monster under her bed. Or a criminal in a story. 

“It’s mama’s boyfriend. He’s mean and he hurts her,” the little girl told him. Lee attempted to keep his features schooled. He doesn’t want to scare the little girl. For a moment he considers hunting down the bastard and strangling him with his bare hands. He wants to make him suffer, and be the reason that asshole would never see the light of day again. But he needs to take care of the little girl in his arms for the moment.

“Well, I want nothing more than to keep your mama safe,” he placates the small child. He looks at Billie and she looks guilty. 

“Baby,” Billie scolds, “You know that we’re here because mama isn’t with Mr. Larry anymore, because he’s a bad man. We’re moving back where all of our family is.” Beth slowly nods, but continues to play with Lee’s badge, small fingers skating over the edges.

“Beth,” he says as he directs his attention back to the little girl on his lap, “do you want to color?” Beth looked up excitedly at Lee. She hurried Billie out to the car to get her favorite coloring books. Billie, Lee and Beth sit at the mismatched dining room table and color together. Beth talks Lee’s ear off. She spends that time telling him everything about herself. Her favorite book, her favorite animal, her favorite color, all the information she deems the most important. Lee just soaks in everything she tells him. He’s ecstatic to be learning about his daughter.

That evening, Billie digs out her old apron. She and Sylvie make dinner while Lee and Joy occupy Beth and Rose. After having dinner and cleaning the kitchen Beth looks almost dead on her feet. But she returned to the table with after dinner coffee. She sat down next to Lee. He was quick to rest his hand on her thigh. 

“You look exhausted, honey,” he observed. 

“I am,” she sighed, “I should probably get Bethie ready for bed.” 

Upon hearing this Beth shrieks, “Noooo. I want to stay up and keep coloring with him!” Crocodile tears began welling up in Beth’s eyes. 

“Baby it’s okay,” Billie tried to placate. But Beth was not having it, she looked like she was about to start wailing. Lee stood up and picked Beth up from her chair and then sat right back down with Beth in his lap, she was far more content there.

“Beth,” he began, hesitantly, “How do you feel about you and mama living with me? And me being your daddy?” 

Beth’s tears dry up quickly and her eyes light up, “Really?” She asks excitedly, “Can we mama?” Lee catches Billie in a dreamy daze. He only ever saw that look every once in a while. 

“Of course, sweetpea,” she smiles. 

“Can we go now?” Beth begs.

“We probably should be getting this one home,” Lee said, petting Beth’s hair soothingly. 

“Home?” Billie questioned. 

“What? You thought that I wouldn’t have you two come home with me tonight?” Lee chuckled. 

“Isn’t that inappropriate for the sheriff to let an unmarried woman stay at his house?”

“I was just re-elected. So, I’m not too worried about what people say. As someone in law enforcement, only I can speak to where is safe for a young woman to stay at night.” 

“Alright,” she says, amused, “You still live in the same place?”

“I do.”

“I’ll drive my car over there then,” she smiles, standing from her seat, “Beth, it’s time to go. Hug Grandma goodbye.” Beth slowly gets up and hugs Joy. Billie kisses her sister and mother on the cheek. 

“Do you need anything before Wednesday, mom?” She asked Joy quietly. 

“No, the funeral home did want us to come early. They said 2:00, I believe,” Joy sighed. 

“Alright, well if you think of anything just call me at Lee’s, okay?” Billie commanded. 

“I will, honey,” Joy promised. Beth is standing close to her mom, while Lee waits for them at the door. 

“Mama, up,” Beth demands making grabby hands. 

“Baby, you’re getting too big for mama to carry,” Billie tries to reason. Beth’s bottom lip quivers and Lee can see that she’s about to cry again. 

“Beth, why don’t you let daddy carry you,” he offers. Beth beams up at him, rushing over so he can pick her up. Billie mouths “Thank you” to him. Lee grabbed Billie’s hand and led her out of the house with his daughter in his arms. He’s on top of the world. 

Billie follows Lee to his house. He lives in a simple ranch style house. It looks the same as the last time Billie saw it. Lee always said that this was just a first home. That he wanted to live there until he’d had a couple of kids. Then when the third baby was on its way, he would buy a bigger house. 

Lee is quick to help Billie with the bags. She doesn’t have many. And she’d sold her furniture to a young couple down the hall. They enter into the living room and it’s just the same. Same furniture, just a little more worn down. Lee locked the door and led them towards the bedrooms. He set the suitcases down in the hall, between the master room and one of the spare rooms. Lee had furnished both the spare rooms with items he’d inherited when his mother died. 

“Beth can sleep in this room,” he said pointing to the room next door to the master, “I’ve got some sheets for that bed in the closet. I don’t keep them on the bed unless I have company.” Billie nodded. 

“It’s getting close to her bedtime. Do you mind getting her bed ready, while I give her a bath?” She asks, gesturing towards Beth, who is tiredly leaning against the doorway. 

“Of course,” Lee says eagerly. Billie takes one case and begins digging through it. He can see that it’s Beth’s clothes. Billie is quick to find a small little night dress for Beth, before picking up another bag and finding Beth’s shampoo and toothbrush. She leads Beth to the bathroom where she fills the tub and starts directing Beth into the tub. Lee smiles to himself at how right this feels.

After her bath, Beth demands a bedtime story. Billie sits in the rocking chair in the corner, Beth in her lap, gently rocking as she reads the story. Lee watches from the doorway. He’s not paying attention to what she’s saying. He’s enthralled by how maternal she looks. She looks like she was made to be a mother. She happily makes a new voice for each character, Beth fights to keep her eyes open. She, too, is captivated by her mother. But the exhaustion of the day wins, and her breathing evens out as she falls asleep. Billie carefully tucks Beth in with a gentle kiss of her forehead. She turns to Lee, shooing him from the room. She quietly closes the bedroom door. 

Lee stares at Billie. Her baby blue dress brings out the blue in her eyes. Her hair is starting to fall from its perfect style. She looks as beautiful as always, but Lee knows her well enough to see that she’s completely exhausted.

“Let’s wash up and get to bed,” he coaxed. She nodded in agreement. Lee went to the bathroom first, quickly splashing water onto his face and washing up. Billie went next. She removed her makeup and brushed out her hair. She hated the way she looked without makeup. She knew she wasn’t nearly as pretty. But she also knew it was just better for her to take it off. She changed into a nightie, as well, before she exited the bathroom and went back to the bedroom. Lee was already in bed, and Billie was quick to crawl in next to him. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into him. 

“I have something for you,” he hummed. 

“Lee, I swear to God if you pull out your cock—“ Billie threatened. Lee laughed heartily and as quietly as he could with Beth in the next room. 

“No, something else that I think you’ll like,” he smirked. Billie rolled her eyes playfully and shook her head. Lee got out of bed and went to the closet. Billie could see that he was looking for something. She saw him pull a shoebox from the top shelf, he quickly took what he needed from the box and put it back where he had found it. Whatever it was that he got from the box, he hid it behind his back. His eyes glinted mischievously as he approached the bed. 

“So, I got this for you a while ago. And I kept it because I always hoped you would come back and I could give it to you,” Lee murmured as he kneeled down next to the bed. Finally, he revealed a small box. Billie had a feeling she knew what this was. 

He opened the box, and revealed a beautiful ring. It was set on a thick gold band. In the center was a diamond that sparkled impossibly, an asscher cut. It wasn’t as large as the diamonds all the women in Hollywood got, but it was far larger than anything in this region of Ohio.

“Lee,” Billie gasped, “How long have you had this?” 

“I got it a couple of weeks before you told me that you were pregnant,” he answered, smiling bashfully. 

“I can’t let you give me this. It’s so extravagant,” she protested. 

“Sugar, I’ve been dying to give you this ring for five years. So, marry me, let me give you this ring, and make me the happiest man alive,” Lee smiled, “Please.” 

“Of course,” she whispered, tears welling up in her eyes. Lee slid the ring up her finger. It fit perfectly. Lee got up from the floor and got back onto the bed. He crawled over Billie before kissing her deeply. When she cupped his cheek he could feel the extra weight of the ring. It spurred him on, his bit down on her bottom lip before kissing down to her neck. Her hands raked through his short hair. His fingers went to the apex of her thighs, he slid her panties to the side and plunged two fingers into her. He was shocked that she was already quite wet. He kissed her neck, as the room filled with obscene noise from her pussy. 

“Lee, please. I need you inside me,” she begged. 

“I am inside you, baby,” he teased. 

“Your cock. I need your cock,” she mewled, “I need to feel you inside me.” Lee wasn’t about to argue with a beautiful woman in his bed. He helped her out of her nightdress and underwear. She yanked on his boxers until he helped her get them off. He settled himself between her thighs. He lazily rubbed his cock over her slit, wetting his length. He pushed just the head of his cock in before removing it again. Billie pouted up at him. 

“I think you may owe me a little something, darlin’,” he teased. 

“Please, please,” she pled, clawing her fingers into his ass. 

“Aww, look at my little baby. So desperate for my cock,” he mocked, he continued to rub himself against her pussy lips. “What would you do for my cock right now?” 

“Lee,” she groaned. Billie was not interested in this game at the moment. Maybe a different night, but she just needed him to fuck her into the mattress. “Just tell me what you want and I’ll do it.” 

“I wanna make another baby with you, right now,” Lee growled in her ear. 

Seriously? That was all he wanted. From how he was playing it, she thought he might want anal. 

“Well,” she began as she moved her hips up and down, forcing him to take more friction, “then you better get to work, daddy.” She whispered the last word directly into his ear, before licking the shell of it. That was all it took for Lee to push into her abruptly. He stilled and looked down at her. 

“Tell me you want me to get you pregnant,” he demanded. 

“I want you to get me pregnant,” she whimpered. 

“What?” He goaded. 

“I want you to get me pregnant, daddy.” Lee began pumping in and out of Billie brutally, hitting that sweet place inside her that made her gush all over him. 

“Fuck, did you get tighter?” He groaned. His hands palmed her breasts. Lee was sure it wasn’t just the five years of separation, but he was enthralled by how beautiful she was. She was perfect. His hands couldn’t grip all of her breasts, her hips flared out in delicious curves. Her tummy was soft, softer than before, it was an aftereffect of having his baby, Lee was sure. Her thighs were thick, he couldn’t help but imagine those wrapped around his face as he fucked her with his tongue. But that was a task for another day, or maybe just later. 

His hands skated down her figure to grabs her hips. He held onto her so tight, he knew it would leave bruises but he used his grip as leverage to fuck her harder. Her legs locked around him, as he thrust in so hard it pushed her farther up the bed, until her head hit the headboard. Billie threw one hand up to stop her head from slamming harder into the headboard, but that action just forced the headboard to slam into the wall. 

“Lee,” she moaned, “We have to be quiet.” They had a little one to worry about now. Lee slowed, but the headboard kept hitting the wall. He pulled out and stood next to the bed. Billie immediately pouted at the loss of him inside her. 

“Come here,” he cooed. She crawled over to him and began to lay back before he stopped her. 

“No, back to me, feet on the floor,” he commanded. She followed his directions and stood so her back was pressed to his front. He held her tightly to him. Kissing her neck, as one hand held her hip and the other ran over her belly. 

“Can’t wait til you’re all swollen with me,” he hummed in her ear. He pushed her forward onto the bed, before pushing back inside her. Billie turned her face so she could moan into the bedspread. Lee used this new position to fuck her deeper. And as hard as he could. His hands held her hips tightly, and he bent over her, kissing her neck and back. She got wetter and wetter the more attention he paid to her back. That was something he’d never discovered and he loved it. He started sucking bruises between her shoulder blades and the curve where her neck met her shoulder. 

“Oh, fuck,” she gasped. Her juices were starting to trickle down her thighs. 

“So wet,” he smirked, one hand curving around her body to rub her clit. Lee could feel her legs starting to shake. 

“You gonna come for me, baby?” He teased. She nodded desperately, not able to speak. Her hands went to the bedspread and gripped it tightly. Lee kissed the back of her neck, and felt her clench a bit tighter around him. He laved his tongue over the same area, before sucking a bruise in the same section. Billie’s eyes rolled back and she came with a shout. It took all of Lee’s self control not to follow her. He slowed his thrusts as she came down. He pulled out, very pleased to see her dripping as he did. 

He rolled Billie onto her back. He wanted to look at her when he came. He cupped her face, she was still in a daze, but she looked up at him dreamily. He pushed back into her, and she moaned, quietly. 

“I love you,” she whimpered. 

“I love you, baby,” he told her. Tears sprang to her eyes, as he rolled his hips slowly against her. 

“I’m sorry,” she murmured, “I wish I never left.” 

“Shh, it’s okay,” he reassured. She reached up to touch his face. 

“You need to know, I missed you everyday. I regretted it everyday,” she sobbed, “I was so stupid. You are the only man I ever could’ve loved and I left you.” Lee stopped moving, but stayed inside her. 

“Honey,” he said, “It’s okay. I promise. I’m never gonna stop loving you. Not even you leaving could change that. Just be with me now. We don’t have to worry about anything else but the future, okay?”

“Okay,” she whispered. He kissed her forehead. 

“Do you want to stop? We can just go to sleep if you want.”

“No, I want to keep going.” 

“You sure?” He asked. 

“Yeah, please,” she begged, “I want you to feel good.” She leaned up to kiss him. Her hands lightly scratched over his back, encouraging him to keep going. Lee hesitated but picked his movements back up, he was going slow. Slower than Billie wanted. 

“Faster,” she commanded. Lee complied, slamming into her. 

“Say my name,” he growled. 

“Lee,” she breathed in a high pitch voice. 

“Tell me what you want, honey,” he grunted. 

“I want you. I want you to cum inside me,” she gasped. 

“Are you mine?”

“Yes, yours. All yours.” Lee was pummeling into her now, chasing his orgasm. 

“I love you, Lee,” she whimpered. And those words sent Lee careening over the edge of the cliff. His hips stuttered into her, as he came. Rope after rope of hot cum painted her walls. Billie fluttered around him. Lee panted above her, but leaned down to capture her mouth all the same. His tongue tangled with hers. 

When they broke apart, Lee pulled out. Billie started to sit up, but Lee pushed her back down. 

“Stay on your back,” he ordered, “I want it to take.”

“Honey, we have all the time in the world to try again,” she laughed. Lee didn’t care. He picked her up from the edge of the bed, and set her down, so she could lay against the pillows. He helped her get under the sheets before joining her. He thought about pushing inside her again so none of his cum could leak out. Billie turned onto her side so she could lay across his chest. He scowled at her for ignoring his directions. 

“Don’t worry. I’ll let you fuck your cum back into me in the morning,” she sighed, burrowing her face into the crook of his neck. Lee chuckled, and wrapped one arm around her. He was dragging his hand up and down her back when he felt it. He wasn’t sure what it was, but it was a bumpy spot on her back. It didn’t feel like the rest of her soft skin. He peered down and saw several dots. They were in clusters all over her back. He hadn’t noticed them before, he’d been too preoccupied.

“What are these?” He asked her. Billie stiffened. She was like a board in his arms. 

“It’s nothing Lee. Let’s just get to sleep,” she hummed. 

“Tell me,” Lee said sternly. 

“Just… just don’t freak out, okay?��� She murmured, pulling away to look at his face. “They’re healed cigarette burns. Larry was an angry drunk.” Lee felt a murderous rage race through his blood. He had half a mind to get dressed and go find that bastard that very instant. “Honey, please just stay calm.” 

“Stay calm? How do you expect me to stay fucking calm?” Lee hissed through gritted teeth, trying to stay quiet for Beth’s sake. 

“It’s okay. It’s over. I’m here and he’s back in New York,” she soothed. 

“I could just kill him,” Lee growled. 

“I’m okay,” she promised, “Let’s just go to sleep. Please.” Lee nodded begrudgingly. He pulled Billie back into him. She quickly fell asleep, but Lee was content to just hold Billie for a moment. Happy that after so long she was back in his arms. 

@greeneyedblondie44 @bxnnywriting @kitty4860

[jawritter]

Born Under The Wrong Sign

Part 2

Summary: Dean Winchester, hunter, killer of Gods, demons, and monster, was born as an Omega. It never felt right, and he wants a change of biology. After all, just cause it’s what we’re assigned, it shouldn’t identify who we are…

Pairing: Omega!Dean Winchester x Alpha!Reader

Written For: @spnkinkbingo​​

Square field: Total Power Exchange

Word Count: 2511

Beta’d By: @miss-nerd95​​! Thanks again hun!

Dividers by: @firefly-graphics​​

Rating: Explicit

Warning: Identity Crisis? ABO Dynamics, smut, unprotected smut, mention of past abusive parents. John’s A+ parenting,  knotting, dirty talk, language, talk of sex change and presentation changes. Some self hate. Claiming, knotting, mating, hint of a possible breeding kink. I think that’s about it.

A/N: This is the first fic I’ve ever written like this one, even for ABO, and even though I’m sure they’re out there I’ve never read one quite like it. So, that being said, I’m pretty nervous about throwing this one out there for you guys! So I really do hope you enjoy it! Feedback is golden! Please do not copy my work! This is part 1, part 2 will drop later this week!!

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A lot had taken place since Dean’s heat ended three days ago. 

Step one of your plan to find a way to switch your biological presentations started with you contacting Sam at the men of letter’s bunker, and setting him to work researching to see if there was any lore that could help you both in your pursuit. 

Dean was worried that Sam wouldn’t be supportive or understanding of his current predicament, but Sam was more than willing to help his brother in whatever he chose to be. John still had Dean repressed a little to this day, it was a deep rooted fear of Dean’s that his family would be ashamed of him or reject him for feeling what he felt. Still, Sam set to work right away. 

Now it was just getting back to the younger Winchester at the Bunker and seeing what he found. You had taken a few days to make sure Dean recovered from his heat before traveling with him. This one had been bad, and he was still pretty tired, but he was also anxious to get back to his brother and see what he’d dug up. 

Dean was in his post heat, clingy phase as well, which added to traveling difficulty. Instinct was telling him to nest down and cuddle with you, and that was hard to do and drive, so it put you behind the wheel of Baby while he lay curled the best he could across the seat with his head in your lap. 

You subconsciously stroked his hair with your free hand as the miles rolled underneath you both and carried you closer to home. You would occasionally glance down at Dean, and you did note that he looked uncomfortable in this position, but what other choice did you have? You had to get to the Bunker as soon as possible if you were going to find an answer to this problem at all. 

Dean had fought against his biology for so long, that when the Omega side of him was more prevalent around his heats it looked odd to you. You were so used to Dean carrying himself as an Alpha would, that it almost looked as unnatural to you as it felt to him, and you could clearly see that he was not meant to be an Omega. This was clearly a mistake of biology. 

The same stood for you. 

You didn’t really carry yourself like an Alpha, even in private when it wasn’t needed that you held to the act to protect your Omega from being killed by other hunters who called Male Omega’s 'Genetic Freaks'. 

You loved to be close to Dean, almost as much as he liked to be close to you, and you were surprisingly submissive to him on the every day occasion. You even often let him have the upper hand in the bedroom, something he really enjoyed, and man you loved it when he took control. It felt more natural to you, it felt right, and you would be a liar if you said you hadn’t fantasized about Dean calling you his Omega just as much as he did. 

Your small frame even contradicted your Alpha status. It made protecting your Omega harder, because if someone was attracted by his unmistakable Omega scent when you weren't around to claim it as yours, especially another male, they could probably overpower you. That scared you a lot, especially in bars where the threat could turn real, real fast. 

You were relieved when you pulled up to the bunker, and didn’t have to stop the whole way. Dean being on the heels of his heat made his scent more prominent, even under suppressants, and you didn’t want to fight with another Alpha at a gas station. 

As the two of you made your way down the iron staircase of the Bunker, you could hear voices echoing through the walls of the place, one of which you recognized right away. Rowena MacLeod. That meant Sam must have found something.  Or, you thought sorrowfully, he found nothing, and he called for backup. 

You exchanged a look with your mate before entering the library where Sam, Rowena, and Cas were all gathered probably waiting for you.

You dropped your duffle bag to the floor with a thud as Dean looked to his little brother with a look of almost desperation. 

“Sammy, please tell me all these people here means you found something,” Dean pleaded, and Rowena guided the slightly trembling Omega to a seat in front of a bowl full of ingredients for a spell, and you took the one next to Dean; taking his hand in yours to give him a sense of security as much as you could. 

“Well, we think we have found something that can be tried,” Sam said, moving to the spell book that was open at the end of the table as Rowena grabbed your laced hands, and placed a twine of what looked to be rope laced with lavender around both of your wrists. 

“Apparently, you two aren’t the first to feel like you were born with the wrong presentations,” Rowena explained, adding a few more ingredients to the bowl before plucking a piece of hair from each of your heads. 

“So this spell is going to virtually swap our presentations?” you questioned, looking between the three other people in the room. 

“That’s the idea,” Cas answered, folding his arms over his chest. "I’m here just in case anything goes south and you guys need a quick healing.”

“The spell is painless,” Rowena interjected, seeing Dean’s worried expression as his gaze shifted between you and Cas. “But the spell will change you on a molecular level, so Castiel’s presence is just a precaution, really.” 

“You ready for this,” Sam asked his brother, who then looked at you with worry swimming in the green depths of his eyes. 

“You sure you want to do this with me. That you won't regret it?” Dean asked, and you tightened your grip on his hand in assurance. 

“I told you, Dean, I want to do this as much as you do,” you assured him and he leaned his forehead against yours. 

“Okay, do it,” Dean said to the room, and as if on cue Rowena began chanting over the bowl, her eyes glowing a bright purple before she struck a flame to the contents and a warm feeling rushed through your body as the twine around your wrist disintegrated in a flash of light. 

For just a moment, it seemed as if the world stood still as the whole room watched the two of you, and for a moment you were afraid nothing had changed. That was until you caught Dean’s scent. It was stronger, more potent than you had ever smelled it. Warm sandalwood and whiskey with just a hint of mint, and your mouth literally watered at the scent. 

You opened your eyes just in time to see the yellow glow of the Alpha now residing in your mate’s eyes fade as his gaze locked with your own, and a deep rumble growl erupted from his chest as he pulled you into his lap like he was scenting you for the first time. 

“Fuck, you smell amazing, Omega,” he said, rooting around your mating gland with his nose before lapping at where your claiming mark would very soon reside. Slick was already gathering in your panties just from him touching you, and everything was so intense it was almost breathtaking. This is what you had always been missing. It felt right, and for the first time in his arms, you felt like you were finally home as you purred against him.

Sam clearing his throat loudly reminded you both that you had an audience, and Dean reluctantly pulled away from you to glare at his little brother with annoyance. 

“Well, I take it the spell worked,” Rowena chuckled before grabbing Sam by the arm. “Come on you two, let’s leave them to it. They need to get reacquainted with each other.” 

They made a quick exit, and you and Dean watched as they retreated up the stairs and completely out of the bunker, leaving you alone with your Alpha. 

“Well, looks like we have to get 'reacquainted',” you told Dean, looking up at him and finding his lust-filled gaze staring down darkly at you. 

You noticed he was sitting a lot straighter and looked all together more stronger. It suited him. You also noticed that your old claiming mark was gone as you ran your fingers over the empty space over where it used to lay over his now smooth skin, and a shiver ripped through his body. 

“Don’t have to tell me twice, baby girl,” he rumbled, lifting you with ease and carrying you towards your shared room. 

It was as if your body was already in tune with your new Alpha, and every step Dean took towards his room, the wetter you became.  The light cramps of your first heat were already licking at your abdomen, making you whimper and nuzzle closer to him and his scent. 

Once you were in his room and the door kicked closed behind the both of you, Dean made quick work of the clothes that were covering both of your bodies and was now hovering over you, exploring your body as if he was seeing it for the first time again. His lips making trails, memorizing what makes you tick all over once more, taking your breast into his warm mouth, sucking and lapping at your body until you were all but begging him for his knot. 

“Hang on Omega, I got to warm you up first,” he murmured against your lips and you shivered as his fingers descended on your slick folds, running through them before breaching your entrance with ease. He pumped and curled them, adding a second finger, then a third; pressing his thumb against your throbbing clit as your body fell apart around his fingers and he scissored you open, preparing you for his knot as he kissed you drunk, swallowing your moans as pure pleasure washed over your body. 

You whined at the loss of his fingers when he finally removed them from your body, and he chucked against your lips, pecking them softly, and nibbling along your lower lip.

“Please, Alpha,” you beg him. “I need you to knot me, stop teasing.” 

Dean grunts lowly in his throat, licking at your mating gland and rutting his already leaking cock through your folds, making your body arch off the bed to meet him in a silent plea to be fully filled by him.

“God you have no idea how long I’ve dreamed of you calling me Alpha, sweetheart,” he admitted kissing you deeply. “Gonna take such good care of you Omega.”

You shivered at the mention of your new presentation while nipping at the skin of his throat. 

“Turn over and present for your Alpha, pretty girl, let me see what’s mine,” he commanded, and before the words were all the way out of his mouth you were on all fours, presenting for him. The deep approving growl that fell out of his mouth had slick literally siding down your thighs. 

“So fucking beautilful, baby girl,” he praised as he slowly pressed the tip of his cock into your waiting heat. “This pussy mine baby girl, all this slick because of me?”

“It’s all yours, Alpha, all for you,” you told him with a keen as he snapped his hips forward and seated himself fully inside your heat with a deep groan. 

All thought process, all words, everything flew right out the window as humanity faded away and pure animalistic instinct took over as Dean pounded relentlessly into you, driving you higher and higher until you could feel his cock swelling further and his knot starting to catch with every thrust. His fingers slipped from your hips to your clit and he began to rub furiously in time with his pace until you were screaming his name and coming around his knot as it locked the two of you place as he lifted you body against his, his teeth latching deep in your throat, calling you as his as he spilled into you, filling you with his cum. 

When you finally came down from your high, Dean was licking at your new claiming mark, healing it only the way an Alpha could, and he was lowering you both so that now you were on your sides. 

“You okay, Omega?” He asked, purring as he nuzzled into your hair, reveling in your scent that was mixed with his own. 

“Perfect, Alpha,” you said, slipping down deeper into his hold.

For a long time no words were said, no words were needed. The unexplainable peace that was between you was enough. For the first time, everything was as it should have been all along.

Dean always knew, he just knew he was never meant to be born as an Omega. It was something deep down inside of him that just was always there from the moment he presented, and the same was for you. For the first time. Everything felt right. 

“You know, maybe we can try to have pups now,” you said after a while and Dean’s body had already been detached from your own. 

“What?” Dean asked, sitting up on his elbow and tucking the strand of your hair away from your face that had fallen. 

“Maybe we can have pups now. I mean, It’s not as dangerous for me to carry them, and now that I’m an Omega we don't hide my heats away. I could stay here at the Bunker and raise the pup and help with research...I don’t know. It’s just something I want with you now.”

Dean thought for a moment before bringing his lips to yours in a slow kiss, one that made your toes curl. 

“You know what sweetheart, I think I like that idea. A lot.” Dean admitted. 

This was the first day of the rest of your new lives together, and now there was a chance to have a family, and Dean knew then. He was really and truly finally at home in his own skin for the first time. 

“I love you, ya know,” he told you, slipping your leg over his hips and sliding his already hardening length into your still slick center. “My pretty Omega.”

“I love you too, Alpha,” you  purred as he slowly started to rock his hips into you, dragging his cock through your heat and sending waves of deep pleasure through your body. “Now fuck a pup into me baby. You know how impatient I am,” you teased him. 

“Yes, ma’am,” he laughed. There was a promise laced in that chuckle that sent a shiver down your spine. It was the first of many promises he intended to make good on, and you couldn’t wait to start a family with him. Your Dean, your Alpha.

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[jinxedpanda4life]

Criminal Investigator AU HC

I would first like to start off by saying thank you to everyone. 

I honestly did not expect the response I got to my Damirae Hospital AU HC list. 

When I first woke up and checked tumblr ~13 hours after posting I had a holy shit moment. 

I felt powerful, should I? Probably not. 

But! Since I am noticing a lack of AUs in the fandom, whether on Tumblr, AO3 or FanFiction.net, whatever AU comes to my mind I shall jot down some hcs for! 

Thank you all once again!

(Also trying format changes for easy reading)

(Also Also, I am thinking the story is less fluid but more episodic)

Let’s get started:

- So I’m thinking this is some FBI, SVU, and FBI BAU mixture or whatever. Basically all the great shows we know in love shoved together. From Bones to Criminal Minds and everything in between.

- Special Agent (Dr.) Raven Roth is a lead interrogator and is the resident psych consult. 

She’s been educated in interrogation, behavioral science, psychology, forensic pathology, and criminology. 

She has combat training (hand to hand), she carries (for her job) a gun and at all times has a knife/dagger on her person (people have stopped trying to figure out where she keeps them). 

Her father was/is crime boss T. Trigon who is currently imprisoned. 

Was born in the states but fled with her mother to Romania when she was a newborn.

When Trigon found them he killed Arella and took Raven, she was abut 9 - 10 years old.

She took her mother’s last name when she turned 18. 

Knows two languages besides English; French, Romanian, Romani (various dialects but knows multiple), Greek and Latin

On more than one occasion some goon of her father’s tries to recruit her, every time she kicks their ass. (Damian was there for the most recent (he was still green though))

Lives by herself in a decent sized apartment, has a gun safe (gun safety is important!), a cat (Nevermore), and is a regular at a 24/7 bookstore &/ cafe

Can usually be found wearing some kind of jacket, sweater, cardigan

She once helped save some kids (Melvin, Tommy & Teether) and is now their surrogate aunt, she has photos of them at her desk @ work. (Damian assumes/ed that they were her kids)

She also, when she can, hangs out and babysits them on occasion.

Raven is part of a team consisting of Dick Grayson (unit leader), Kori Anders, Garfield Logan, Jaime Reyes, and very recently Damian Wayne 

- Special Agent Damian Wayne is a lead investigator (he is still a bit fresh to the unit), translator, sniper and combat coordinator

He’s been educated in martial arts, explosives, hand to hand combat, close range combat, and combat (basically he knows how to kill you 9 ways to Sunday), also, behavioral science, computer science, criminology, linguistics and language. 

He can easily translate (into English): Arabic, Mandarin Chinese, Russian, Hindi, Bengali, French, Polish, German, Spanish, Portuguese, he can also learn any language you put in front of him and know the basics within a day

(Having lived in many places around the world he needed to be able to speak and understand in order to survive) (wow dramatic much?)

His father is currently the director (or deputy director, whatever floats ya boat) of the FBI.

His mother was essentially a secret agent who worked for various agencies around the globe. (deceased)

His grandfather was the leader of a, um, well to be honest, terrorist agency. (deceased)

Was sent to live with his father when he was 15 (when his mother died) and has been in the states ever since

Lives alone, he has an upscale apartment that he truthfully spends little time in, has multiple locations in the home where various weapons are stored, his place has a very cold atmosphere

Is either in proper work attire or in work out clothing, there is no in between

Tries and fails not to take work home with him

He sees a therapist (who says he should probably try investing in relationships with the people at his job)

His only “friend” (he hates calling him that, more like close acquaintance) is Jonathan Kent who was in his class at the FBI Academy, Jon works in a white collar crime department in Metropolis

The only person he actually kind of sort of doesn’t dislike is in fact Raven Roth, she’s a no bull shit person, he likes that

He may know Grayson because of how he’s Bruce’s kind of son but it does not mean he likes him

He finds Logan annoying as all hell, even if he is somewhat useful

He picked a fight with Reyes first day and regretted it (he will never admit that), he respects him

Anders is overly friendly in his opinion, kind of acts like a secretary with all that positivity and grates his nerves, he tolerates her

(Unlike last time I am not going in detail about the rest of the team, this will be brief)

- Supervisory Special Agent Dick Grayson (Unit Chief) is basically Dick Grayson with a big fancy title but all the same skills

He is also obsessed with Slade Wilson and Red X (who is Jason in this)

- Supervisory Special Agent Kori Anders is a lead investigator and is also a go to for undercover work

- Special Agent Garfield Logan is a lead interrogator, is head of the unit’s K-9 unit and kind of has a thing for Roth (which she does not reciprocate) 

- Special Agent Jaime Reyes is a tactical analyst, tech analyst and is head of the unit’s SWAT team, he does not do well with talking with people, or change

The Scarab is a computing program that Jaime created himself

STORY START:

- When Damian first joins the team there is another member, Special Agent Terra Markov, she is revealed as a sleeper agent but she aligns herself with the team and sadly is shot and killed in a fire fight

- A couple weeks after Agent Markov’s death everyone is talking about what they are doing for an upcoming holiday, Damian says probably nothing, Raven invites him to spend it with her and her “niece” and “nephews,” he declines

- About a day after the holiday Damian is home looking through case files when someone knocks on his door

-- It is Raven. He asks how she knew where he lived, she says she asked Dick, she also says that she knows how it feels to be alone and that he may be insufferable but it doesn’t mean he can’t have a friend

-- His response is saying he isn’t the kind to make friends with co workers

-- “I’m not asking to be your friend Damian, I am asking you to be his,” She reveals a small black great dane puppy “I know that other people aren’t really your thing, but having someone in your corner and waiting for you is always nice, even if it isn’t human.”

-- Damian invites her in, names the dog Titus and thanks her

-- “Just make sure no one tries to kidnap and kill you, we don’t need you to go full blown John Wick.” Damian has no idea who that is. Raven tells him it is an action movie series that he should watch. She leaves. He does watch them that night with Titus on his lap. (after having gone to the local pet supply store to get everything he needs) The action is inaccurate but he enjoyed the movies none the less, and decides that he probably would go into John Wick mode if someone hurt Titus.

- SA Roth and SA Wayne are sent to a high security federal prison to interrogate a prisoner, who refuses to speak

-- When they get into the interview room the prisoner does start to speak, but not in English and not in a language Damian is fluent in

-- Raven on the other hand immediately responds to the prisoner (shocking the prisoner and Damian) “He is speaking Romani though not the dialect of those overseas, he learned it here.” 

-- Damian is fascinated by it and they are essentially switching roles the entire time

-- They leave having successfully interviewing the prisoner, and Raven leaves behind a written list of common words in Romani so that they can possibly communicate with the prisoner better

-- As soon as they are on the plane back Damian asks her a myriad of questions from “How many languages do you know?” to “When did you learn that?” and even “Are you a spy? Sleeper agent? Part of a terrorist cell?”

-- “Not as many as you, when I was a child, if I was part of any of that you wouldn’t be asking.” The rest of the trip is spent with her teaching him Romani and even some Romanian

- Dick & Kori eventually get together and after a while they break up. Kori takes some vacation time. At the same Dick has been temporarily reassigned to another unit.

-- Chaos ensues

-- Garfield thinks he should be the interim unit chief, Jaime thinks the same, as does, you guessed it, Damian (Raven doesn’t want to she is comfortable with her role on the team)

-- In the end they are assigned an interim unit chief, SSA Jason Todd, who usually works overseas on covert op missions (not gonna lie this could easily flow into a Jayrae thing)

-- Everyone kind of falls into line, except Damian, Damian doesn’t like him for two reasons

1) He doesn’t act serious about the job 24/7

2) He has been flirting and hitting on Raven the moment he stepped into their sector 

-- Damian hates the names he gives her; “Little Bird,” “Sunshine,” “Princess,” “Rae,” (no one calls her Rae, not even Garfield, at least not after the incident) etc.

-- (Little does Damian know, Jason and Raven have worked together before and are actually friends)

-- This all comes to a head when Damian and Jason are the only ones still in the office after a tiring case.

          “You shouldn’t do that you know.”

           “Do what? All I am doing right now is contemplating where Grayson                    keeps the liquor.”

           “Call Raven all those names, she doesn’t like it.”

           “Really? Because if you haven’t noticed she hasn’t exactly asked me to                stop.”

           “She gets uncomfortable, maybe not to the extent of asking you to stop,              but she tenses up and her body language becomes slightly more                        agitated.”

          “You seem to pay a lot of attention in how she reacts to thinks baby brat.             Seems to me that you like her.”

           “Of course I like her, she is a good friend and reliable teammate.”

           “No, you like like her.”

           “That presumption is juvenile.”

           “But you don’t deny it.”

           “Tch.”

-- If anything after that conversation Jason seems to doubled his advances. Which confuses both Damian and Raven. Damian because it is inappropriate and HR will be hearing about this. Raven because she was under the assumption that she and Jason were just friends. (Jason actually does have genuine intentions but is like 60% just egging Damian on)

-- Eventually (far too long for Damian’s tastes), both Dick and Kori return. At first it is sooooooo awkward. Like mom and dad divorced have shared custody but don’t hate each other but also cannot look each other in the eye. ((Was that a mouthful? Good)) No one can really look at each other the same? Though they do have a meeting to sort it out, get everything out in the open.

- Raven’s annual kidnapping/attempt to convert her/torture comes almost exactly one year after Damian joined the team (this is his 2nd time dealing with this)

-- This time Damian is prepared. By prepared I mean Raven doesn’t even leave her apartment before she is taken to safety. 

    “Damian what is going on?”

    “Christmas came early this year that’s what.”

    “Christmas? What in gods name are you talking about.”

    “God has no dealings in this matter.”

    “You do realize you are sounding like a bad action movie? It is not even 6 am and I am in your car going somewhere, I have had little to no sleep and I am barely dressed. What is going on?” Damian hadn’t payed attention to what clothing Raven was wearing. His mind was on one goal. Find Raven, keep Raven safe. His eyes glanced off the road enough to realize she was indeed not properly dressed. Her body was merely adorned with an oversized tee-shirt, tiny barely there shorts and a pair of fluffy socks.

    “I apologize, it appears in my haste I did not leave you time to properly clothe yourself. As to why you are here, it seems your father and his people have shortened their waiting time this year from one year to a little more than ten months.” Ravens hands fisted her shirt. “This time I was prepared,” last time he was still new to everything, last time he made mistakes, this time there will be no mistakes. “Since our last encounter with your demon, so to speak, I have been setting in place precautions and safety measures to ensure Nevermore and yours’ safety. I have also been tracking the movements of his big players. If any came close I would mark it down. Multiple are entering the city at this moment. Seeing as you we taken last time I have made plans to ensure that will not happen again.” The car made a snap turn down an unfamiliar street pulling Raven from her clouded gaze.

    “So I am going to be okay this time?” Her voice was faint and restraining against hope.

    “You’re going to be okay.” His hand lightly held hers. Only to stop the shaking, they told themselves, only to make everything better. “Nevermore is with Titus at my place being watched by a friend of mine. I have already walked Grayson through everything we will not be expected at work this week, but we can work remotely.”

     “We?”

     “I’m not going to leave you. Ever.”

-- ((Sorry for the blocks of text))

-- As Raven finds out they are at one of Damian’s safe houses. The one least likely to be tied to her. It is fully stocked with food, has security cameras and if needed weapons. The only problem is that the only clothes there are Damians.

    “Thought of everything huh?”

     “I was following their pattern, I expected to have more time to acquire clothing for you.” (he was looking away and blushing, you cannot tell me he wasn’t)

-- Raven just resigns herself to wearing Damian’s clothes, yes his brain does stop working for a hot second when he sees her in only his clothes.

-- All attempts to try and retrieve codename: Gem of Scath are foiled (like some good math)

-- So many bonding moments happen. Cuddling (pure accident *rolls eyes*), eating together, inside jokes, etc. At one point Damian answers her phone (he disabled and disconnected the tracer) to one of the mob guys after them.

    “Hello?”

     “You can hide the gem but we will find her.”

     “I’m sorry, is there a jewel you are looking for? I don’t think I have and any jewels that I am coveting.”

     “We know you are with her! It is but a matter of time until we collect her.”

     “I hope you do eventually find whatever you are looking for sir, but I haven’t the slightest idea the gem you speak of. If you could give me a physical description? Is it a ruby, diamond, onyx? Is it round or more of a pear shape?”

    “...”

    “Well, I will look for it here, but I do not believe I possess what you speak of. Will you give me your number so I can call you back?” (The line cuts dead, and Raven can be seen laughing in the background, the phone was on speaker)

-- Once the team tracks down, arrests and interrogates all of the parties working for Trigon; Raven and Nevermore can go home. Though both are reluctant in their own way. Nevermore has grown attached to Titus, and Raven well Raven has feelings. Sadly, as Raven knows, feelings are dangerous to have in their line of work. 

-- Look at Dick and Kori they were together and then they fell apart and the team almost imploded.

-- What about Trigon if he finds out about Damian and how she feels towards him? What kind of danger will he be in then?

-- Like all of her feelings Raven puts them in a box and locks the box away. Not just figuratively, in her safe there is a box with: post its, torn papers, journals, etc. That box has a lock on it. Whenever she has a new feeling that she cannot ignore, like her feelings towards Special Agent Wayne, she takes out the box and writes her feelings down. They can range from a single sentence to pages worth. (Her feelings towards Damian fill a small notebook she has on hand). Once she has written all of her feelings out she places them in the box, locks said box and then places the locked box in her safe, which she then locks.

-- Is this a healthy way to cope with her feelings? Maybe not. But, it is way better than how Damian deals with his. Violence. Also art but violence comes first.

- At this point both Damian and Raven have caught the feelings (highly contagious I hear), which makes this a little awkward and a little not awkward. For one everyone but Raven knows how Damian feels towards her. He does things for her and with her that no one else gets the privilege to.

-- To list a few:

--- He brings her tea whenever he gets himself coffee or tea

--- He talks to her about what he does outside of work, even about his kind of friend definitely not enemy, Jon.

--- They socialize outside of work. Watching bad movies (some of them are not that bad), going to the park with Titus (they once got Nevermore in a leash and walked her), meeting each other before and after work to get breakfast or dinner.

--- He doesn’t glare at her

--- He allows physical contact between the two

--- He worries about her (hello he created an entire plan so that she wouldn’t get kidnapped, with contingencies and everything, garfield would be lucky to get a plan)

--- His eyes light up when she talks, or enters a room, or you know exists in his vicinity

--- He actually smiles around her (Dick caught him smiling once at Raven and he though Damian was having a stroke)

-- Even though everyone knows Damian likes Raven, very few know that Raven likes Damian back. (this only includes; Kori, Dick, Jason, Titus, Nevermore, and Melvin) She does do certain things that give herself away just like Damian.

--The list:

--- When Damian gets frustrated or angry she puts a hand on his arm, or holds his hand

--- She laughs at things he does (light chuckles, or little giggles)

--- She will talk to him about his interests and actively tries to have conversations with him about things unrelated to work.

--- She blushes when he does something unexpected (like a compliment)((Mostly she tries to hide it until he isn’t looking at her))(((Kori has caught the blush before)))

-- Luckily for them it does not take some cliche ‘One suddenly becomes in danger and the other one saves them only to be close to death and then they admit their love for one another and promise to go on a date when the other is healed’ situation. 

-- Damian actually asks Raven out after being tipped of by Jason and Dick that she may like him back. Damian finds out when they have days off at the same time and asks her while leaving work.

   “Raven, you have this weekend off correct?”

   “Yeah I do. I wasn’t planning on doing anything though. Did you have something in mind?”

    “Um, yeah, heh, I was wondering if you would do me the pleasure of going to dinner with me tomorrow.” *Awkwardly rubs back of neck*

    “Like a date or two friends going to dinner?” *Thinks she sounds harsh* “I am honestly fine with either since we are friends.” *nervous smile*

     “Like a date if that is okay with you of course.”

     “Yeah, yeah totally that is totally okay with me.” *Starts sounding like a teenage girl who only knows about 10 words, because she’s nervous*

      “Good, I’ll be by your place around 1830, if that is okay?” *nerve central, the central nervous system could never*

       “Yup that is totally fine with me.”

       “Great.”

       “Good.” The elevator opens in the knick of time.

       “See you tomorrow evening Agent Roth. Have a good night.”

        “You too, Agent Wayne, you too.”

-- When Damian does pick her up he feels like his brain is going to explode. She looks absolutely breathtaking. This is just like all the other times they’ve gone to dinner, except this restaurant is slightly fancier and they are on a date.

-- Raven feels as though all her emotions are leaking out at once, she has no idea what she is doing.

-- In the end they have a good time and decide to do it again. Damian does bring up that all of the breakfasts and dinners they regularly do could now be considered dates. Raven does not oppose that switch at all.

- Fast forward a handful of years (like 3?), Damian and Raven are moved in together (Nevermore and Titus are happy about this, they even allow the humans to adopt another pet, a cat named Alfred). Damian is now Supervisory Special Agent Wayne and is in charge of their unit. Raven has retired from field work and now works at the FBI academy and at Virginia State University. In about 6 months Damian is going to propose and Raven will say yes. Their wedding will be small but happy and full of life.

Once again I would like to thank everyone and all the support the previous post got.

Like last time if anything is disjointed, out of place or seems wrong, please go ahead and tell me. I have been working on this since the last one, but have finally had the time to finish it.

I hope the new year will bring us all some good. Possibly more head canons to come.

[fangirl-ramblings]

Soft asks number 3 for john and Abigail

Pairing: John Marston x Abigail Marston

Words: 1040

Summary: John thinks back on what a terrible husband and father he's been over the years… only to realise something very important 

Prompt Requested: "You're comfier than my pillow"

Notes: Fluff, Post Epilogue, Possible Spoilers for key points in the game [CW: mentions of pregnancy]

I'm so sorry this request has been sitting in my askbox for over a year 👀🙈 But your constant support and inspiration motivated me to finally finish this. So much so, what was originally planned to be around 100 word drabble turned into over 1k words. (This is also a giant thank you for putting up with my radio silences these last few weeks 😘)

Requested tags for: @redeadepression a.k.a. John and Abigail's biggest fan and defender.

~* Tumblr Masterlist | Stories on AO3 *~

Finally Found What I've Been Looking For

1908, Beecher's Hope

A thudding sound filled the air of the master bedroom in Beecher's Hope as Abigail punched her pillow in frustration. It was the third time this week that sleep had eluded her.

     "What's the matter, darlin'?" John asked, half asleep, moving his arm out towards her in an open invitation for her to come closer to him.

     "What's the matter? What's… the… matter?" She growled, emphasising every word he had just said to her back to him through gritted teeth. "I can't sleep because I'm so damn uncomfortable. And there's your damn snoring, John Marston… all of this is your fault, you know." Throwing his arm back towards him, she flopped back down in the empty space next to him.

   "So you keep tellin' me," he chuckled lightly, ignoring her earlier protests, and wrapped his arm around her, pulling her towards him. "And while I may have played a small part in makin' you feel this way, I think you'll find that it's this one here who is causin' all the trouble," he grinned, placing a protective hand on Abigail's ever-growing baby bump.

Not being able to resist a chance to swipe at her husband she muttered, "Small part indeed," under her breath, causing John to shoot her a pretend hurt look. Taking a second to steady her thoughts, Abigail apologised, placing a hand on John's chest. "I'm sorry. I'm just fed up of bein' pregnant now. I just wanna meet our daughter."

   "Daughter?" John raised a quizzical eyebrow towards her. "How can you be certain it's a girl?"

   "I'm not, but this time feels completely different to when I was carryin' Jack… so I've just got it into my head it's a girl this time."

John kissed the top of his wife's head, feeling her instantly relax into his body. "Well, I can't wait to meet them either, no matter if they're a boy or a girl, but you need to get some rest before they get here. You're cranky enough as it is without sleep; throw in a newborn awake all hours of the night, and I reckon you'll kill us all," he teased, rubbing her back.

Abigail nodded with heavy eyes, "I know… I know. But I think I might be able to sleep now - you're far comfier than my pillow is… even if you are still quite boney." 

John playfully rolled his eyes at her insistence to always get a dig in at him. He knew that while her barbed comments may seem uncaring to an outsider; he used to think the same thing himself when she'd make comments whilst living in camp together, he came to realise that her callous words were just a way of hiding how scared she was of saying how she really felt about him out loud. While John might have appreciated Abigail telling him that she loved him out loud, he already knew that she did and would smile to himself when she tried to hide the fact once more under an insult to his face.

Brushing a loose hair from her angelic like features, trying not to laugh as she swatted his hand away, John grinned, watching her finally fall asleep. He couldn't help but internally kick himself that he never wanted to do any of this all that time ago when she was carrying Jack and was never really around for them both in the years following his birth. 

He'd always held a soft spot for Abigail, ever since she first walked into camp all those years ago, the sting of her sharp witted tongue dulled by her outstanding beauty. But within a few months of meeting her, she'd fallen pregnant and told him he was the father and it suddenly felt it was like someone had placed a giant millstone around his neck. Back then John just wanted to drink and be merry with his campmates and had thought his life was to have a greater meaning than being a sole provider to two of his campmates. He even ran away from his responsibilities for a whole year to try and find out what it was he really wanted from life, but that hadn't helped him find what it was that he was looking for. No, it had just left him with a feeling of guilt and regret he'd left his chance of having a proper family behind. He'd come back with his tail between his legs, but still couldn’t summon the courage to be a proper father to little Jack, let alone be a good partner to Abigail.

He had tried though, in the years that followed, especially after they finally got Jack back from the clutches of Angelo Bronte, and later on in the aftermath of the gang's demise, John had tried to give Abigail and Jack what they needed from him; but it never seemed enough. They'd rent a room somewhere while they both looked for good, honest work… and within a few weeks, or months if they were lucky, they'd be moving on again. Abigail nagging once more at him that it was because John couldn’t help but get himself in trouble for trying to protect them.

But watching his wife sleep soundly carrying their second child and knowing their eldest was safe in a bed of his own, with a roof over his head, it suddenly dawned on John that this right here was what he'd been looking for for all that time; stability and safety for his family. He'd spent years looking over his shoulder making sure no-one could hurt the two things he loved most in this life, and only now with Arthur's death avenged and Micah laying dead up on that mountain, the unbearable weight had been lifted from John's shoulders. For the first time in a long time, it felt like they could live the life Arthur had sacrificed himself for and John could  finally breathe again.

Closing his own eyes he started to dream of all the good things that could be waiting for his ever growing family in this new chapter of their lives… only to be rudely awoken by Abigail sleeply hitting his chest.

   "Damnit John, quit with the snorin' will ya?"

[florbelles]

13~17 for Lyra and John?

thank you legend, i am once again sorry for my response time on this rip

xiii. what is their go-to for making a partner feel loved?

— this is something that's actually incredibly difficult for her; the enormity of it is something that nothing feels adequate to express. while she's very physically demonstrative, one of her greatest fears — particularly after he's gone — is that she never expressed it the right way, that he never understood, not really. she desperately hopes he does. she tells him, a thousand times, she is sorry for the way she is, even knowing that he loves her for it, even knowing that he knows what he chose. ( he did, of course, he tells her as much, but it still haunts her ).

she tries to makes him feel loved by what makes her feel loved; making sure he knows she sees him, understands him, accepts him completely and unconditionally. he doesn't need to be anyone else for her; he doesn't need to prove anything to her. she shows him she loves him by letting him simply be, by proving with time that she isn’t going anywhere, that she’s all in.

she shows him love the only ways she knows how. she's most comfortable expressing herself with her body, that she can give him, that she can do and do well ( sexually, yes, of course, but perhaps more pertinently — neither of them have an uncomplicated relationship or history with sex, elaborated on below under xv — with nonsexual signs of affection — running her thumb over his, nuzzling him when she comes up behind him, pressing her lips to his neck ). she’s always touching him if she’s near him. she’s extremely affectionate, both physically and verbally, especially in the mornings and at night when they’re lying limbs-twined.

the simplest answer is, however, synonymous with the answer to xv below; she expresses her love through her trust and willingness to render herself wholly vulnerable. she expresses it through quiet, subtle intimacies that might not be immediately evident to anyone who doesn’t know her ( it’s been stated many times before, but to lyra, the use of a first name and familiar language is the greatest sign of intimacy she can verbally give — her enemies are darling, her husband is john ). “hi, john” is her “i love you;” “i’m so glad it’s you” is her “i love you.”

xiv. what makes them feel loved? would they build up the courage to ask for it?

— the small efforts he makes to meet her at her level. when he says “you love me.” when he manages to drag his ass out of bed for her in the morning to watch the sunrise even though they’re on two hours and he needs his beauty sleep. she doesn't expect accommodation. she doesn't expect anything. one of her most prevailing thoughts early in their relationship is that it would have been enough for him to simply see and understand her; she would not have asked him not to hate her, she does not ask him not to forsake her, but he chose not to. he gave her acceptance. he gave her love. she would never in a thousand years ask for it.

for john, it’s that she lights up when she's around him — is truly simply that happy just to see him and be near him without needing or expecting anything from him, which isn’t something he’s necessarily had in his life from figures who aren’t obligated either by familial bonds or being his subordinates. she could not disguise it even if she wished. he will always make her flush. he will always make her stomach drop and her teeth flash and her eyes gleam. it is simply the way it is: it is incredibly fortunate they are not seen together by anyone outside of the project, because they would have known immediately. ( they do know immediately, when the time comes, before the end of everything ).

xv. what, for them, constitutes a level of intimacy that they would only rarely share with someone? this can be physical, emotional, etc.

— vulnerability, both emotional and physical.* quite literally, he is the only partner she's ever had that she has slept with, excepting some of her earliest girlfriends, generally bunkmates at school ( “i have never slept with a man in all my life!” is a favored gag of hers ). he is also the only partner with whom she hasn't kept her shoes or knives or some means of defense on her person ( john would argue the post-coital teeth and scratch marks he permanently wears make her true defenselessness sat any given time debatable, but it's the thought that counts! ).

( * for the sake of simplicity, this excludes all intimacy in relation to the project; while it’s obviously a major part of their relationship and a shared cause/belief system that deepens their bond, it’s complicated by the fact she would have joined the project and undergone those processes with or without him, whether or not they were lovers )

physical intimacy is, at first glance, something that is decisively not something only rarely shared, given that they both have hundreds of past sexual partners; they both have a complicated past with sex and their own respective baggage. john obviously has a history of self-medication and addiction that’s bound up with his demons and self-loathing; for lyra it's never been a particular vice — she has absolutely also used it to self-medicate in the past, usually as a way to blow off steam when her blood is running hot in a potentially more lethal direction, but it’s never been an instrument of self-destruction — an d is instead primarily is burdened with the fact that she used her sexuality to seduce targets; it's something she weaponized and exploited, so there are always going to be certain situations or circumstances she dislikes seeing john in ( she's reluctant to the prospect of restraining or binding him, for example, since she would use restraints on men she seduced with the intention of intimidating or killing them ). they both have associations they don't want to spill over onto the other.

having said that, the fact of that allows them a type of intimacy that might not be immediately evident to anyone else; she makes sure he knows he doesn't have to fuck her to hold her, he doesn't need to use his body to have that familiarity with her ( given that this is previously unexplored territory for the both of them, her saying so goes over about as well as can be expected — pardon him, he didn’t realize sex with him was such a fucking chore, sorry he is so sexually revolting, don’t do him any favors! — but they get there ).

sex is obviously still a big part of their relationship, and not one that john particularly feels the need to repent, since they’re married in all but name almost immediately and are married in fact within six weeks and otherwise has little difficulty john-justifying ( johnstifying, if you will ) it to himself ( she’s been entrusted to me, i’m bringing her closer to the project, she’s meant for me anyway, god brought her to me, this isn’t lust, she said so herself, this is a sanctioned union ), and she immediately casts off any notions of seducing or manipulating him as means of insinuating herself into the project’s protection ( it’s for this reason she stalls joining; she intends to right away, she believes joseph and desperately wants to believe that this is the reason and purpose for everything in her life up to this point, done both by and to her, but she flatly refuses until she can prove her complete commitment and good faith upfront, an opportunity afforded to her by the camera crew’s fortuitous arrival ) — this is also why she cuts off their first encounter and flees the ranch. she will never use her sexuality against him. in that sense, sex as a form of intimacy is reserved for each other.

( this is, in fact, how she knows she loves him; for all of her extensive sexual history, she has never actually wanted someone — not just release with them, not just a physical attraction to them — she is in fact unsettled on whether or not she is attracted to john physically; he's the most beautiful creature alive to her, but that's because he's him, she loves his nose because it's his nose, she loves his eyes because they're his eyes, his skin because it’s his skin — but actually him. she knew she had to have him. )

xvi. if they had the ability to just spend free time with their partner, what would they do? would they go out or stay inside?

— stay in ( not necessarily literally within the confines of their home, but within their own space ). lyra will probably coax him outside at some point because she doesn't feel right if she's indoors all day, regardless of the weather — no, the first seven years of the collapse are not looking well for her, thank you — but they won't necessarily stray from each other's companionship. if it's a day off, joseph is probably giving them space ( this is also his day off from their shared existence, how wonderful to be able to attend to the rest of the flock without worrying about what problems they're causing on purpose ), so while they'll occasionally have the company of one of their family members, it's more likely to simply be the two of them, possibly with the company of some of their closest inner-circle ( shaggy, holly, shaggy’s brother matthew, a few of their select chosen who are assigned to the ranch ) in the evening if lyra decides she wants a bonfire. otherwise, they take full advantage of their ability to absolutely nothing but laze around and talk and make love.

xvii. under what circumstances would they want to be left alone by their partner?

— this almost never happens, since they’re more inclined towards separation anxiety than a need for space, but lyra is the most likely to want it when she needs to sort out her mental state or let her fuse burn down ( like the time she locked herself in the shower to cry for an hour because he loved her or if they’re in an especially heated argument and she needs to clear her head before she says or does something she’ll regret). she rarely does so, however; she’s aware that from his perspective her walking out on him, no matter how temporary or how rationally he knows she’s coming back, exacerbates his angst and triggers his insecurities.

[inevitably-johnlocked]

Hello! I wanted to ask, could you reccommend any fics with really innocent bottom Sherlock being nervous before his first time with John? And John of course being understanding and gentle with him. Thank you!

Hi Nonny!!

Check out my bottomlock recs, they’re 80% this request :) AND I’m using this opportunity to update that list, it’s been a couple years, LOL <3 Here’s some newer fics I’ve read!

BOTTOMLOCK Pt. 2

See Also: 

Bottomlock Pt. 1 (April 2019)

Toplock (Mar 2020)

Erotic Beyond Belief by bloodsoakedleather (E, 748 w., 1 Ch. || Autofellatio, Masturbation, PWP, Anal Fingering, Shameless Smut, Establish Relationship) – John watches as Sherlock demonstrates a particular talent. Part 1 of Johnlock Porny Ficlets

My First, My Only, and My Forever by vintagelilacs (E, 6,220 w., 1 Ch. || Post-ASiB, Virgin Sherlock, Pining Sherlock, Sherlock’s Bum, John’s Scar, Sherlock POV, Body Worship, Fingering, Bottomlock, Promise of Forever / Proposals, Misunderstanding, First Kiss/Time, Loss of Virginity, Virginity Kink, Seduction) – Sherlock narrowed his eyes. He was missing a vital piece of data, he was sure. John had been looking at him oddly ever since they left Buckingham Palace, and the ensuing incident with Irene Adler had only exacerbated his erratic behaviour. What was it? Why would he care that Sherlock was a virgin? There was nothing reminiscent of mockery or pity in his gaze. And then it hit him. John Watson was aroused.

An Interpretation of Viewing Habits by akitsuko (E, 6,653 w., 1 Ch. || Porn Watching, Masturbation, Anal, Friends to Lovers, First Kiss / Time, Declarations of Love, Jealous Sherlock, Fantasizing, John in Denial / Internalized Homophobia, Bottomlock, Pining Idiots, Sherlock Has No Boundaries, Cockblocking Sherlock) – John watches porn. It's a perfectly normal thing to do.If every video he watches happens to feature actors with remarkable physical similarities to his flatmate, well, that's no one's business but his own. Or: John is in denial, until his infatuation with Sherlock is impossible to deny anymore.

To be loved by Strange_johnlock (E, 12,436 w., 8 Ch. || Post S3, Established Relationship, First Person POV Sherlock, Pet Names, Soft Sherlock, Mild ADHD, Protective John, Captain Watson, Body Appreciation, Bottomlock, Rough Sex, Travelling for Holidays, Introspection, Sherlock Loves John So Much It Hurts) – John is so deeply integrated into the work, both as my conductor of light, and as a great shot with a vicious right hook who tackles men -and women- no matter their size all in my defense. He protects me with all he can without question, and this loyalty is surely more than I deserve. Or: Sherlock is counting his blessings.

Kintsugi by distantstarlight (E, 14,772 w., 1 Ch. || Post S4, Emotional Hurt / Comfort, Regret / Remorse, Loneliness, Separation, Drug Use, Healing, Protective John, Sad Sherlock, Dev. Rel., Complicated Relationships, Love, Angst With Happy Ending, Sherlock is Called Freak, John’s Penance, Voyeurism, Doctor/Caretaker John, Guilty John, Detox, Fingering, Love Confessions, Cuddling, Slight Non-Con Turns Enthusiastic Consent, Virgin Sherlock) – Sherlock Holmes becomes estranged from the man he had once considered his best friend after John lets him down horribly in public. It seems that the world's only consulting detective will be on his own once again...or will he?

The shape of the world around us by Salambo06 (E, 15,058 w., 5 Ch. || Lumberjack John / Botanist Sherlock, Different First Meeting, John Has a Beard, Light Case Fic, Flirting, First Kiss / Time, Masturbation, Love at First Sight, Horny Sherlock, John’s Bum, Bottomlock, Tenderness, Virgin Sherlock, Pining Sherlock, Shy Sherlock, Sexual Fantasies) – Looking through the bush, Sherlock felt his heartbeat quicken as a man passed in front of him. Sherlock frowned, trying to get a closer look despite the bush. The man was wearing a red plaid shirt rolled up to his elbows, and Sherlock couldn't take his eyes off the man’s arms. Muscular, slightly tanned with golden hairs along his forearms. For some unknown reason, Sherlock found himself imagining them around his waist, holding him tightly. Closing his eyes for the briefest second, Sherlock shook his head. Opening his eyes and looking back to where the man stood only a moment prior, he found himself alone. Great, now his only chance to find his way back to town was gone. “Why are you wearing a suit?”

The Invocation of Saint Margaret by Ewebie (E, 15,831 w., 1 Ch. || POV John,  Crossing Timelines, Light Angst, Fluff, Series 3 John / Series 1 Sherlock, The Matchbox, Mushy Romance, First Time, Bisexual John, Pining John, Bottomlock, Love Confessions, Sensuality, Emotional Love Making, Snippets of Time) – When Sherlock Holmes opens the matchbox from The Sign of Three and John finds himself years in the past, back to that first dinner at Angelo's with a much younger Sherlock Holmes. Is he dreaming?

A Silver Sixpence by _doodle (NC-17, 16,400 w., 2 Ch. || LJ Fic || For a Case / Case Fic, Fake Relationship, Humour, Romance, Marriage Proposal, Awkward Idiots, Cuddling, Touching, Kissing, Love Confessions, Bed Sharing, Friends to Lovers, Fake Until It’s Not, Schmoop and Fluff, Bottomlock) – “John, we need to get married. It’s for a case, not any romantic notions on my part pertaining to our partnership,” Sherlock said, with brutal honesty, and without even looking up.

Traitor's Gate by roane (E, 17,714 w., 6 Ch. || Post-TRF, Case Fic, Mystery, Bets and Wagers, Undercover for a Case, BAMF John, Scientist Sherlock, Teasing, Established Relationship, Military Base, Sexting/Texting, Military/Uniform Kink, Frottage, Dirty Sex, Anal, Bottomlock) – John and Sherlock go undercover at a top secret government lab to find out who is selling research. John is back in uniform and Sherlock is back in a laboratory, but they have to pose as strangers. Sherlock thinks he'll have an easy time of it, but John has his doubts. It's up to them to find out who is responsible for putting a dangerous weapon in the wrong hands, and try to keep their hands off each other at the same time.

Out of the Woods by SilentAuror (E, 20,471 w., 1 Ch. || Post S4, Romance, Slow Burn, Flirting, Drunk Sex, Practical Jokes, POV Sherlock, Bottomlock, Possessive John, Pining Sherlock, Frustrated Wanking, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Blow Jobs, First Kiss/Time, Virgin Sherlock, Love Confessions, Soft Sherlock, Dancing, Bum Appreciation, Hanging out with the Yard) – Sherlock is fairly certain that John has taken to flirting with him of late, but can't be entirely certain of it. At least, not until a case takes them into a forest, along with Lestrade's team and something happens that will change everything about their lives...

Insanity in the Middle by DotyTakeThisDown (E, 28,010 w., 8 Ch. || Equestrian Sports AU || Alternate First Meeting, POV John, Pining John, Bottomlock, Clueless Sherlock, First Kiss/Time, Passionate Kisses, Hand Holding, Caught Making Out, Bed Sharing, Spooning, Blow Job) – John is a world-class eventing rider with a gold medal and several four-star wins to his credit, but he's never won at Rolex. Sherlock is an up-and-coming rider taking the sport by storm.

The Case of the Vanishing Pants by SwissMiss (E, 44,025 w., 6 Ch. || Five and Ones, Post-TRF, Case Fic, UST, Homophobia, Friends to Lovers, Pining John, Showering Together, Couple for a Case, Sherlock’s Bum, Fantasies, Jealous Sherlock) – Five times John and Sherlock lost their pants in the course of a case.

Anchor Point by trickybonmot (E, 49,856 w., 80 Ch. || Truman Show AU || Psychological Drama, Suspense, Slow Burn, Dark Characters / Fic, Alternating First/Third Person, Protective John, Anxious/Worried Sherlock, Tender Moments, Love Confessions, Hand/Blow Jobs, Cuddling, Jealous John, First Kiss/Time) – The world tunes in nightly for Sherlock, the ultimate in reality TV: Sherlock Holmes, a real person with a legendary name, unknowingly lives out his life in a staged setting contrived by his brother. Things get complicated when a retired army doctor joins the show to play the part of Sherlock's closest friend. This fic borrows its concept from the 1998 film, the Truman Show. However, you don't need to have any knowledge of the movie to enjoy this story.

The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse by SilentAuror (E, 50,635 w., 1 Ch. || Post-S4/S4 Divergence, Case Fic, For a Case / Reverse Fake-Relationship, Conferences, Marriage Equality, Travelling / New York, Pride, Homophobia, Bottomlock, Marriage Proposal, John POV, Sexuality, Love Confessions, Emotional Love Making, Public Hand Jobs, Blow Jobs, Passionate Kissing, Needy/Clingy Sherlock, Virgin Sherlock, Touching / Hand Holding, Bed Sharing, Little Spoon Sherlock, Intense Orgasms) – John and Sherlock go to New York to attend a conference run by the National Defence of Traditional Marriage Coalition in order to investigate the potential bombing of the annual Manhattan Pride parade. As the conference unfolds, John finds himself repulsed by the toxic ideology being presented, which becomes relevent to his own unacknowledged issues and his friendship with Sherlock...

Perdition's Flames by i_ship_an_armada (E, 63,435 w., 21 Ch. || Treklock AU, Est. Rel, Genetic Engineering, Angst & Fluff, BAMF!John) – Sherlock would do anything to save him. Risk anything. Give anything. His money, his life. His soul. What he does, though, is change both of their destinies forever. Genetic re-engineering is the only option left. It turns out researchers underestimated the life expectancy and potential abilities of genetically re-engineered subjects. The British government and what would eventually become the United Federation of Planets, however, had not. Part 1 of PF Universe

Not Broken, Just Bent by Schmiezi (E, 87,585 w., 43 Ch. || Pining, Love Confessions, Rape/Sexual Assault, Torture, Hurt/Comfort, Heavy Angst, Villain!Mary, Suicidal Ideations, Main Character Death, Sherlock First Person POV, Parentlock, Sherlock’s Mind Palace, Grief/Mourning, Emotional Love Making, Possessiveness, Depression, PTSD, Kidnapping, Virgin Sherlock, Eventual Happy Ending) – "For a second, I allow myself to remember teaching John how to waltz. There is a special room in my mind palace for it. A big one, with a proper parquet dance floor. For a second, I go there. I remember holding him, closer than the World Dance Council asks for, excusing it with the fact that we are training for a wedding, not for a competition. For a second, I feel his hand on mine again, smell his sweat, hear the song we used. For a second, I allow myself to love him deeply. For a second, only a second, that love reflects on my face." Fix-it for S3, starting at the end of TSoT. Evil Mary.

[sparklingchan]

Dancing with a Stranger || Lee Minho (Stray Kids)

Pairing :  Reader (fem.) x Lee Know

Word count: 6k+

Warnings: Cuss words, mentions of alcohol, mentions of a break up, slight violence and blood (its nothing intense, I swear) ,suggestive towards the end, not proof read.

Genre: Angst , fluff, boyfriend AU , break up - make up AU.

Description : Lee Minho is the best boyfriend you could have ever asked for but when you end up doing the only thing he had begged you not to do, things start going downhill.

Author’s Note: I KNOW I SAID I’LL POST THIS ON MY BIRTHDAY but I am an impatient person and I really wanted everyone to read this asap :( This imagine is one of my personal favorites and like Boyfriend!Minho really hits different, won’t you agree? (Reposting because tumblr decided to be a bitch and not show up my fic in the tags? It’s 2 AM and I’m legit crying?? I was so excited about this) Yeh le @chogiwow​ !

Please do reblog, like and send in your views about this fic. I’m always happy to receive DMs and asks!

Enjoy!

It is really funny how a crowded, happening place like your college corridor turns into a cold ,eerie location of some prospective gruesome crimes by sun down. But then again , if you really think about it , maybe it’s not much of a ‘prospect’ at all.

Your knuckles start stinging first ,spreading then to your palm and the rest of your arm.

And the horrifying yet unavoidable realization finally dawns on you - you shouldn’t have punched your professor’s daughter.

“Y-you! You bitch! How dare you touch me?” She has this annoyingly loud voice that pierces through the tense air like a bullet. The prettiest girl on campus , the nicest of them all, the most desirable , but anyone who sees her right now, would be convinced she is neither of those things. Excluding you , of course , because you always knew how double faced and rude she was behind the mask of a pure princess.

“You should have kept your mouth shut then, Anya.” You say , hoping that the girl in front of you doesn’t notice the sudden fear in your voice that has replaced your authoritative tone from before.

But you can’t back off now.

Anya stumbles back with her mouth wide open , clutching her jaw as she curses under her breath , “My mother will hear about this ! I will get you expelled !”

“Oh yeah? Try me and the only thing your mother will hear about is what you and our lovely class president John do in the basement when she isn’t home.” You shoot back. You mentally want to slap yourself for that sharp tongue of yours that refuses to stop any time sooner. You had always wished that you’d gotten your father’s gentleness but sadly , you were the fateful heir of your mother’s roughness.

Anya doesn’t reply , instead , she throws herself at you , pushing you harshly against the lockers .And it is not long before her balled fists find a way to your nose , punching so hard that you literally feel the blood dripping down your face. You are so glad that all the students and staff have already gone home , you’d have hated for anyone to witness this.

“You will never lay your filthy hands on me again, y/l/n. ” she wraps her left hand around your throat while the other one pulls your hair with the strength of a bull. You scream in pain. Your body goes limp for a second - not from pain but from fear , but you realise it’s too late now. You should have thought about your fears before punching Anya.

Now all you can do is save yourself and escape.

The numbing pain from your scalp spreads through your head , going down your face and then attacking your throat. It gets harder to breathe.

“I’ll tell you what , Anya , you deserved it. You deserved all of it. ” you croak , “I told you to stop spreading filthy rumours about my cousin but you didn’t stop , I told you to stop bothering me but you didn’t listen. And now you’ve gone as far as spreading bullshit about my boyfriend who you’ve never even met ! I hate to break this to you but all of this is not going to make your trash personality any cooler. ”

Anya yelps with anger , increasing the grip on your throat and hair as you kick your legs helplessly, coughing .

“Shut up, y/l/n .” She growls , “ and as a matter of fact, Your boyfriend is just a mere dancer , how funny. An A-grade college student dating a poor street dancer. What happened , y/n, ran out of good guys for yourself?”

You want to yell at her and tell her that Minho is anything but a mere street dancer . He’s an amazingly talented artist who loves expressing himself through dancing , he’s a hardworking and honest person who is part of the country’s biggest dancing crew , and he’s your safe place , your home , your everything and god save anyone who dare hurt him.

But you bite your tongue this time.

“What now? Afraid ?” Anya raises her eyebrow, her lips curving into an ugly, sadistic smile.

You hate that smile.

You use one of your free hands to grab her hair while the other one slams hard against her jaw.

“Shit.” She mutters , falling back into the hallway.

But you’re not done yet.

You walk toward her with furious eyes and balled fists , and it isn’t long before she lands on the floor on her butt with a bloody nose and a black eye.

“Keep your mouth shut or you’ll end up on a hospital bed next time. In a coma. ” you spit out those words while she holds her tears back, face caked with humiliation.

Then you turn on your heels and walk out of the stupid college campus which would yet again be filled with more bullies by tomorrow morning, just like it has for centuries.

The dorm in which Minho lives almost always smells like freshly baked cookies ( courtesy: Lee Felix) and on rare occasions, it smells like burnt pancakes ( also courtesy: Lee Felix). Today , it smells like the former and you sigh in relief.

“Oh , my god ,y/n. What happened?” Changbin opens the door after you knock thrice , “Minho, dude, Come out , y/n is here!”

You shuffle into their big living room , head hanging low and eyes avoiding all sorts of confrontation , afraid of having to explain your stupid behavior.

“Y/n?” Minho sucks in a deep breath at your sorry sight , his eyes glazed with dread and fear as he walks toward you, ”Oh god, what happened?”

He swiftly takes out a handkerchief from his pockets , pressing it against your bleeding nose. His eyes are glossy with fear.

“I-it’s nothing. I fell down the stairs.” You lie. Can he please shut up and hug you already? You hate his questions so much , especially when you just can’t answer him.

“Y/n , that is not what a fall looks like. I’m not stupid. Whom did you beat up this time?” He asks , crossing his arms across his chest. And you really do almost blurt out the truth because it’s that easy for you to open up to him and because he knows you like no one else does. You’ve dated him long enough for him to know you like the back of his own hand. And that sometimes gets you in so much trouble. Lying to him is a near impossible task.

“Y/n, look at me!” He says , slightly annoyed now. He touches your chin gently, coaxing you to look at him but you’re too afraid to face him right now. Too guilty. So you shrug him off and walk into his shared room with Hyunjin, a homely feeling enveloping you almost instantly.

“Y/n, don’t you dare ignore me.”

Ugh. He can be so nosy at times.

“I came here for comfort , not for an interrogation. ” you pout , plopping down on the bed.

Minho scoffs , closing the door behind him. He wears a loose black t-shirt with a pair of shorts , and he smells like the expensive shampoo you had bought for him a few months ago ,which he initially refused to take but now loves it. He looks so good and smells so good and suddenly all you want to do is cuddle him and talk about his day, with his Winnie The Pooh blanket draped around your bodies.

“You aren’t getting any comfort till you tell me what happened.” He says . He stands with his back against the door , and stares at you as if you were a criminal. Maybe you were one ,but that doesn’t mean he’ll hate you or something ,right?

“Did you hit the professor’s daughter?” He asks when you don’t answer even after two whole minutes. Your stomach does a somersault, adrenaline coursing through your veins. You regret telling him about Anya a few weeks ago and you specifically saying that you’d one day ’ punch her brains out ’. You wish you’d shut up sometimes.

You play with your fingers, staring at your feet. You can’t look him in the eye anymore , not when you did the exact (and only) thing he had asked you not to do. You feel horribly guilty.

“Well in my defense, she was being a bitch ,okay? She was calling you a good for nothing dancer and ugly and underqualified and - ” you sigh , “ My point is, I couldn’t bear listening to all that, okay?” You admit , cheeks burning with embarrassment.

Minho doesn’t answer, very unusual of him by the way, and you snap your head to look at him.

The eyes that had once held concern and fear for your well being now are clouded with disappointment . He’s mad at you.

“She’s not wrong though. I am a good for nothing dancer, I go to a stupid cyber college. Nothing worth fighting over. Why the fuck did you put yourself in danger like that!” And he’s yelling now , his relaxed posture from before now replaced with a tensed one. You notice his clenched fists and teeth ,and you shudder with fear. He is furious. But at what? You don’t really know.

“Are you seriously justifying her actions? Minho, she can’t talk shit about you. I will not let her do that! ” You yell back ,getting up from the bed , “She doesn’t even know you!”

“Which is exactly why her opinions on my lifestyle do not matter ! And you don’t have to just go around acting like my bodyguard all the time!” He says.

Your heart drops, brows furrowed in confusion at his words that feel like a dagger is plunged into your heart.

You walk up to him, trying to take his hand in yours but he extracts it right back. “I’m sorry, okay? I wasn’t thinking. You know how crazy I get when I’m angry.”

“A ’ sorry ’ doesn’t suffice it. The damage is already done. And if tomorrow, you are thrown out of the university, who’s fault would it be? ” he presses his hand to his face, trying to calm himself down , “I can’t believe I am dating such an immature woman ,y /n. Grow the fuck up, will you?” He says , his anger filled eyes staring right into your soul . Your heart breaks into millions of small pieces , as your breath hitches in your throat. He had never said something so harsh to you in the many years that you’ve dated him and you really wish he hadn’t done it today either because you realise you’re not very good at handling hurtful words, especially from Minho. At all.

“Minho , I know you’re angry - ”

“Leave.” The world stops spinning for a second , your eyes widening with shock, “Go home. Don’t come back again.”

You want to cry but tears seemed to have given up on you too , his words striking you harder than any of Anya’s punches ever did. All your feelings seem to have converted into a much worse state of numbness when those words leave his mouth.

“Y-you are not breaking up with me, right?” Your usually loud voice comes out as a whisper.

“I am. Go, please. I don’t want to see you right now.” He opens the room door for you to exit, his eyes never meeting yours. His lower lip is caught between his teeth, a sign that he’s about to tear up yet you don’t know if he wants too be comforted by you right now, or ever. So picking up the remaining pieces of your damaged heart , you walk out of the room , stopping only to glance over at him one last time , in hopes that he’d change his mind. But no, his angry demeanor is still there , strong and tough and unbreakable.

And when you finally leave , Minho is grateful that Hyunjin wasn’t home - for he would have hated to cry in front of his roommate.

The bright neon sign with ’ Kim’s Restaurant ’ written on it shines in the distance , blurred only by the tears in your eyes and not by the tiny droplets of water slowly falling from the sky.

You feel a soft blanket of comfort draping over you when you walk toward the familiar building.

Your aunt and uncle have worked hard to build a proper business from a small shop that had once just sold fried chicken and cold drinks ; and it makes you so happy to see their new restaurant still packed with people this late in the evening.

“Oh , y/n. I was just about to call you. Did you not go to your dorm yet? ” your aunt asks from the reception desk , chewing her favorite gum and typing aggressively into the computer.

“I stayed back today. Project work.” You lie. Your aunt lifts up her head , her eyebrows knitted together and a suspicious scowl gracing her face , almost mimicking your mother. Your mom and your aunt are twin sisters , born just three minutes apart , and since then it has become your mom’s life mission to remind your aunt of the whooping three minute gap every chance she gets. It’s hilarious, really.

“Don’t make that face at me. You look exactly like mom.” You mutter , leaning against the wooden desk.

“I do look exactly like your mom , y/n. ” she replies with a chuckle, “Anyway, what’s going on? You look tired.”

Honestly, you’d love to talk about Minho and the impulsive breakup and the aching in your heart with your aunt because there’s no better person to seek advice from, but you don’t feel it right to burden her when she’s working plus a part of you doesn’t really trust your aunt to keep all the secrets to herself.

“No, I’m okay. Just mid college crisis.” you say.

Your aunt hums in response, probably not buying it but you’re happy she doesn’t push it anymore, “ Are you hungry? Want something to eat?”

A bag of fries with a bucket full of chicken wings sounds terribly tempting right now but you’ve lost all your appetite for the day the moment Minho closed the door behind you. Now all you feel is drained, tired, sad. Moreover, that is not what you were here for, “Nah, I’m good. Is Yugyeom home though?”

The door to your aunt’s house opens only after you ring the stupid bell at least three times , as you stand on the porch, judging the loud music that blasts from within the walls. “Wow , you look like shit.” Yugyeom always has some snarky comments up his sleeve but you are in no mood to be playing word games with him right now. You barge into the house , pushing past your cousin who you smells like donuts and Axe.

“Shut up.” You say, plopping down on his bed . You really want to cry right now but Yugyeom has never been big on consoling so you try to hold it in .

“What’s wrong? I’m not joking.” He sits beside you, putting down his gaming console on the table by the bed.

You play with your fingers , breathing in and out to calm your nerves. Yugyeom, out of all the people in the world , is the easiest to talk to but today , you find yourself on the edge , trying to be very careful with your choice of words. Maybe you were afraid of angering him as well.

“I..I kind of beat Anya up.” You confess ,swallowing the lump in your throat.

Yugyeom becomes still for a moment , staring at you with his mouth gaping and then his face breaks into the widest grin in the world.

“You really beat that bitch up? Like for real?” He asks , excitedly bro fisting the air like an athlete after winning an important match.

You nod , “And then I went to see Minho. He obviously didn’t react the way you did. He was very angry and then he broke up with me. ”

Yugyeom’s celebrations are short lived as you continue to tell him the details of what had happened earlier, his smile slowly dissolving into a frown.

“Y/n, first of all you really need to learn how to break news to other people. It’s always the bad one first and then the good one. Noob.” Yugyeom bumps his shoulder softly to yours. You would otherwise have argued with him and told him why the happy news should always be first and why the bad news should be last but you feel too exhausted to speak anymore. Your shoulders slump as you put your hands on either side of your head.

“How could he just break up with me like that? He had no logical reason to! He’s so selfish.” You mutter , tears gathering up in your eyes. You try to blink them away before your cousin notices them.

“I don’t think he did it for himself , y/n. You told him that you hit Anya because she was speaking trash about him. Of course he’d distance himself from you so you wouldn’t want to fight his fights for him.” Yugyeom says.

“I wasn’t fighting his fights! She trash talks about you and me and him and everyone else. It was the last straw for me. I didn’t do anything wrong. ” you explain , your heart hammering against your chest.

“I didn’t say what you did was wrong ,y/n. You have a right to be angry with her. But what we’re talking about is Minho. Think about this from his point of view,” Yugyeom replies, his hands on your shoulders , “You beat Anya up , got hurt and possibly put yourself in trouble with her mother all because of him. He feels guilty.” Yugyeom is speaking to you like he’s speaking in one of those debates that he does at college. You love seeing him speak, mostly because he is so manipulative yet subtle , smart yet observant and he can convince you so easily. He could easily pass as the best debater in your college - too bad you’d already taken that place.

“Or it could be because he doesn’t want more trouble in his account. Maybe he’s ashamed of me. ” you whisper, “ And I told you, I didn’t do it just for him. I did it for me and you too and all those people she bullies and makes fun of. Why is he the only one reacting like this? ”

Yugyeom sighs, “Yes , I appreciate your concern for my well being, y/n. But he might not be thinking the same way as I am. I was happy that you beat Anya up , but he was worried about you. He obviously doesn’t want you to get badly hurt.”

You rub the tears that flow down your face with the heel of your hand then place your head on Yugyeom ’s shoulder.

“He might have fallen out of love with me. Maybe he just needed an excuse to call it off.” You mutter.

“You know Minho’s better than that, y/n.”

He’s right . Minho really is better than that.

Break ups suck. In the truest sense. But what you now realize is that break ups don’t hurt that much immediately, but slowly , as the days go by and the memories start flashing in front of your eyes every waking moment , you feel like nothing more than a sack of meat and bones, drained of all emotions.

“For this unit of organic chemistry, I need all of you to memorise the reaction mechanisms over the weekend.” Your professor’s voice feels distant to you , as if there were a wall in between the two of you , even though he stands just a few steps away.

Your classmates start murmuring among themselves, fixing study dates that almost always are unsuccessful and gathering notes they hadn’t bothered to complete until now. But you remain seated in your chair , staring out the window, not bothering to talk to anyone.

It is a bright sunny afternoon and you see all the happy faces out on the field - couples, friends , classmates. You feel jealous. You clearly remember planning a weekend trip with Minho a few days ago and If you hadn’t decided to mess things up so bad, he’d have already been at your college gate by now , waiting in his father’s old car. You clearly remember how excited he was about the trip.

The dismissal bell rings not long after and as you walk out of the college gate, surrounded by thousands of students, you feel lonelier as ever. And your mind imagines his car below the tall banyan tree , his lean frame leaning against the door with a silly grin. You could almost see him there. Even though its just in your mind.

You miss him so much that it gets hard for you to even breathe properly.

“Okay , how long are we going to stay here? I have better things to do than stalk your girlfriend, Lee.” Changbin’s whiny voice breaks the silence in Minho’s car, much to his annoyance.

“Just a few more minutes. Till she reaches the dorm.” Minho replies , his hand limp on the steering wheel and his lips pressed in a tense line.

His eyes are focused on you , your slump shoulders and your unusually slow walk and the dark circles under your eyes. It is obvious that Minho wasn’t the only one having sleepless nights .

“Dude , why don’t you just talk to her? I’m sure she would listen.” Hyunjin says from the backseat , munching on peanuts, “ Plus I think she saw us.”

Minho watches as you turn around a corner and walk toward your dorm building , away from him. He almost wishes you’d seen him.

“It’s not that easy.” Minho mutters, turning the engine on.

At least he knows you’re okay, and safe. That’s enough reassurance for him to try and move on but he somehow always ends up driving to your college gates during dismissal,  the brief view of your face still making the worst of his days better.

“It’s not that easy.” He repeats to reassure himself .

“Guess what.” Yugyeom chimes in early one morning, leaning against the locker door beside yours.

“What?” You ask , not sparing him a glance. Your hands busy themselves in flipping over the pages of your notebook ; last minute revisions before tests are more important than the actual studying.

“I saw Anya this morning. She was running late , I think, and she bumped into a junior near the gate. I was sure all hell was about to break loose but she just apologized and left!” Yugyeom says , laughing.

You turn to look at him, a look of surprise plastered on your face. Anya actually did that? Instead of being her usual, defensive, violent self she actually chose to apologize? It’s hard to digest but you’re sure Yugyeom wouldn’t be making all that up. He’s not that creative.

“The sun must have risen from West today.” You reply with a chuckle.

The morning bell rings throughout the corridor, indicating the commencement of your classes. Throwing in your notebook ,you close your locker and heave a sigh. Its just a small quiz but you find yourself stressing over every single thing these days.

“Oh and by the way , it’s Jackson Wang’s birthday party tomorrow.” Yugyeom adds as the two of you start making your way towards the chemistry lab , coats hanging by your arms.

“And we’re going?” You question ,cocking your eyebrow.

Yugyeom is not really into parties , especially the over-the-top , spectacular , rich-kid parties that Jackson Wang often finds himself throwing, yet Yugyeom always goes because a) Jackson is his best friend and b) Who doesn’t like to feel like a rich man even if it’s just for one night?

“Yes. Both of us.” He says. You shrug your shoulders. You have always liked going to Jackson ’s parties and fawning over his huge mansion and the various cuisines placed in front of you that you can’t even name properly and watching other rich kids like himself play golf in the living room. It was pretty entertaining . Even with your post break up gloominess, you wouldn’t want to miss all of that.

“Okay.”

“And one more thing,” he starts ,“I saw Lee Minho outside our college gate yesterday. You might want to do something about that.”

No, unlike what was expected of you, you didn’t really do anything about it but Yugyeom’s words stick to you like a piece of gum throughout the whole day ,consuming every thought and pulling out all those thoughts that you’d stacked up and thrown away into the top most drawers of your mind. You were convinced that the day he broke up with you , he was done. He didn’t want to look back or reconsider. He wasn’t coming back to you. And you’ve been trying to move on as best as you could ,keeping your mind occupied and busy all the time. Yet you had to accept that in the wee hours of the night , staring at the ceiling ,you would often find yourself reminiscing him and whatever you two had. The gentle touches , the late night walks, shy smiles and endless talks ; you missed them.

But his presence outside the college changes the whole game, doesn’t it?

Later that day, you kind of regret agreeing to go to Jackson’s party because you soon realised that both Minho and Jackson went to the same dancing school at one point of time , and Minho probably (like a 99.9% probability because Jackson Wang never leaves anyone uninvited) was invited too.

You dread every second in Yugyeom’s stupid car that brings you one more step closer to seeing Lee Minho again. And although you would never dare say it out loud , a part of you was a little excited too.

“Dude , y/n , I have never felt so underdressed in my entire life.” Yugyeom breathes in as the car stops in front of the huge metal gates of Jackson’s mansion.

“Me neither.” You agree, your eyes glued to the people walking in and out of the doors, wearing tuxedos and dresses and sparkly jewelry. You feel horribly out of place all of a sudden, like a fish flying in the sky and a bird swimming deep under the water- you feel like you don’t belong here.

You look down at your black converse , tightly laced and washed for this very party and your loose ,dark green tshirt and ripped jeans .

“Why didn’t you tell me this was a fucking masquerade ball or soemthing?"you hiss at your cousin.

"Shut up, y/n , you’re not the only one feeling odd. ” Yugyeom shoots back

But all of that discomfort is gone the moment you see Jackson Wang sitting on the huge sofa in the living room , wearing nothing but a pair of boxer shorts and a white tank top , drunk and wasted and blabbering.

“Let’s go before he sees us.” Yugyeom says , pushing you through the crowds of people clad in silks and pure cotton , “Drunk Jackson is difficult to handle.”

“Oh , I beg to differ , All Jacksons are difficult to handle.”

The garden behind the mansion is filled with even more people than your brain was accustomed to seeing while the DJ stands at the top of a platform , headphones on and screaming into the mic every once in a while to hype up the crowd in front of him , but you realise it’s hardly needed. People are already way too hyped up in here.

“Y/n?” You hear a voice say and you immediately turn around to face Hwang Hyunjin standing under the wonderful night sky, looking as gorgeous as ever. But then again ,when does he not look pretty?

“Hey, Hyunjin. How have you been?” You ask with a smile. Your awkward hand movements do not go unnoticed by him but he thankfully doesn’t comment on it.

“I’ve been good. How have you been ?” He replies , inching closer to you. From the corner of your eye, you see Yugyeom slowing disappearing into the crowds, leaving you all alone to deal with your ex boyfriend’s best friend. You make a mental note to never lend your Netflix account to him again.

“I’m okay, too.” You say.

Hyunjin nods, his eyes staring at you curiously, “Tell me , y/n , how have you really been? I know what happened between you and Minho.”

You gulp , heat creeping up to your cheeks.

“I’m fine, really. Don’t worry about it.” You say, biting the inside of your cheeks nervously.

“If you say so.” he grins , putting an arm around you , “But I’ll be real honest with you , Minho - ”

The words are cut off when the DJ suddenly blasts a new song through the speakers , simultaneously yelling into the mic. The sweaty, wasted , hopeless crowd around you yell a few ’ Let’s GO! ’s and ’ Fuck It Up ’s in response.

“What were you saying?” You yell over the music , pinching Hyunjin’s t-shirt to get his attention. He glances at back you then points toward his left , “That.”

You turn your head in that direction , your heart skipping a beat the moment your eyes meet Minho’s nervous ones. You see him walk towards you in long strides ,his handsome features painted with anxiousness and worry and a foreign sense of guilt. You were angry at him ,yes ,but as he makes his way to you , his silky hair bouncing softly ,his pink lips slightly parted, his starry eyes locked on you ,he looks…Brilliant? Breathtaking? Gorgeous? Stunning? All of these?

He wears a blue tshirt with black pants and has a jacket tied around his waist. He looks beautiful- even though you are mad at him. He looks way too beautiful to not acknowledge it.

And just a few seconds before he reaches you , you break away from Hyunjin’s hold and run away into the crowd.

“Y/n, wait!” You hear the both of them yell at the same time. But only one of them follows behind you and you don’t even have to look back to know who it is.

Fear and anger creep into your body , slow but painful like poison. You remember the last few days and how horrible it had been for you , all because of Minho and his lack of understanding in a moment when it was needed the most. Over the past few weeks, your ex boyfriend had made no attempts to contact you whatsoever and if he thinks he could just pop out of nowhere and start talking to you again, then he’s gravely mistaken. You might still love him and want nothing more than to hold him close , but that doesn’t mean you aren’t angry anymore . You are not ready to face him. At all.

Your feet burn as you run further away from Minho, jogging up the stairs inside the mansion with your hand tightly gripping the cold metal railing.

“Y/n, please, just listen to me once.” He yells, still not giving up.

You scoff , “Why should I? You didn’t listen to me that day either!”

You find a door at the end of the staircase, your hands pushing it to reach the empty terrace that you’d heard Jackson bragging about during your English classes when everyone was too bored to listen to the professor. The terrace really was beautiful, with all kinds of flowers blooming and a fountain with lights , you would have almost been breath taken if not for the man closing up behind you.

“Y/n, damnit, ” Minho huffs, reaching his hand out toward you, panting, “Stop, okay? Just listen to me , please.”

Not like you have an option anyway. You sigh in defeat , walking toward the fountain, the carpet grass rustling under your feet. “What?” You demand, your voice bitter with anger.

Minho stands in front of you , his brown unkempt hair and firey eyes reminding you of the night you guys had kissed for the first time. He stands at an arm’s distance, giving you enough space to think things through. He would never want to force you to do something you wouldn’t want to. And even if everything turned out to be not in his favor tonight, he’d gladly accept it because he deserved it after treating you so badly.

“I’m sorry.” He whispers after a few seconds.

You roll your eyes, “For what? What did you do? As far as I know, THE Lee Minho never makes mistakes!”

He hangs his head low with shame ; he didn’t mean a single word he’d said that night. He was worried, yes, he was very worried about your bashful attitude but he was also very grateful to you for always having his back. It physically hurt him to see you bleeding and completely worn out that day.

“Well, I did make a mistake this time. I said some words that I didn’t mean at all and I’m afraid the girl I intended those words at hates me.” He says , pressing his lips in a line.

“Damn right , she does.” You can’t even look into his eyes anymore because you’re too afraid of laying your true feelings bare in front of him.

“I’m really, really sorry, baby. I know I’m an asshole and I hurt you. I have no excuses to offer but I just want you to know that a single second more away from you will drive me crazy. ”

You process his sentences slowly - letter by letter, inking those words permanently into your memories. “Why?” You ask. What a silly question ,y/n, do you really want to torment this man so much ?

Minho gulps, his Adam’s apple bobbing with the movement, “Because you’re quite literally my everything.”

Minho only dares to grin a little when you no longer throw virtual daggers from your eyes at him. “I hate you , you know?” You say.

“I know ,y/n. I don’t even blame you. I shouldn’t have said all that. I was just so, so mad. But that really wasn’t an excuse to be so rude to you or break up. I should have talked it out instead . I deserve the hate.” He admits.

The frown on your lips dissipates slowly ,making way for a sad, small smile.

“It was so hard, Minho. You don’t even know. I had never felt so lonely in my entire life.” You say.

“Believe me, y/n, I know.” He whispers as your hands find their way to his cheeks, rubbing them ever so gently.

You scan his face, absorbing in the fact that he was actually in front of you and this wasn’t one of your unrealistic imaginations.

Minho takes not more than a half step towards you and you automatically wrap your arms around his neck , like the millions of times you’d already done before. Everything about him is so familiar yet so new. Like layers and layers to discover and only one goddamn lifetime.

He nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck , mumbling soft apologies against your skin, his arms tightening around your waist with every passing second.

“I missed you so much.” You admit, playing with his beautiful brown locks, taking in the smell of his (your) favorite body wash.

“I missed you too.” He replies , “So goddamn much. I almost wanted to cuddle Hwang Hyunjin at night.”

You laugh ,as he admires the way your noes scrunches up when you giggle and the way your eyes bend into crescent moons. In that moment, Minho realises how much he loves seeing you laugh ,especially when he’s the reason behind it. It fills him up with so much pride.

You hear the DJ change the song into a slow , romantic one as his voice booms through the speakers once again , “Ladies and gentlemen, grab the person next to you, with consent of course, and hold them close for this one because tonight is all about dancing with strangers!”

The crowd goes feral.

Minho raises an eyebrow at the DJ’s words , a sly smile playing on his lips , “Shall we?”

He pulls away from the embrace, gently bowing toward you and offering you his hand like some gentleman right out of a fairytale.

“He said dancing with a stranger, not girlfriend.” You deadpan but you take his hand anyway.

He chuckles, leaning closer to rest his forehead on yours, “Technically, we’re still broken up. That makes us strangers.”

You have to give in - not because of his weird reasoning but because of how terribly cute he looks when he smiles like that at you. He holds you close, swaying slowly to the music and grinning like there’s no tomorrow.

“What’s so funny, Lee Minho?” You ask , raising your eyebrow.

He shakes his head, still grinning, “I just realised how rare it is to find a woman who would quite literally declare war for you.”

“Now, you’re exaggerating a little bit with the war thing but yes, that’s the essence of it.” You reply with a proud smile.

He laughs, as you put your hand on his cheek once again and press your lips softly to his. You’d missed this so much - not just kissing him but also this feeling of intimacy you share with him everytime you’re in a closed space, sharing the same air. You missed his teasing, his stupidly sweet laughter, the warmth of his embrace. You missed Lee Minho - your safe place, your best friend, your world.

And even after everything, you both know for sure that you would fight the world for Minho if need be, and he’d do the exact same thing for you. Every single time.

[cheekysos]

Between Hate and Lust Part Two

 Ashton Irwin x Plus Size Reader

Author’s Note:  I’m sorry this took awhile for me to post. Thank you for the feedback on part one, I hope you enjoy part two and I plan on writing a part three! I’m not writing this series to exclude any body type, shape, or size because everyone’s bodies should be accepted and celebrated. So I am very sorry if this in any way excludes anyone, that is not my intention. If there’s anything you’d like to read please leave a request in my asks and I will try my best to do it justice. If you have any feedback or ideas for part three please let me know.  

Summary: Y/N is doing her best to ignore Ashton and his stupid dumb face at the wedding but he’s making it damn near impossible.

Warnings: Very brief mentions of masturbation, sexual thoughts, mutual pining, light swearing

  Y/N’s POV

The morning of the wedding was a little bit of a blur to you. You barely got any sleep last night, your thoughts completely consumed with Ashton. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t give in after hours of tossing and turning in bed and reached for your purple vibrator in your nightstand. Ashton’s words from earlier playing over in your head, “Unless you need some help keeping that pretty mouth shut.” Did he really think your mouth was pretty and what exactly would he have done if you didn’t keep quiet? You kicked yourself for not pushing him.

  The next morning you were getting your makeup and hair done, drinking mimosas with the rest of the bridesmaids and the bride to be. Your hair and makeup was simple but elegant, subtle smokey eye with loose curls half up. You were grateful that all the bridesmaids were able to choose different styles of a dress all in the same mauve color. Your dress had a fitted bodice with a halter neckline and cut right at the knee.  You were trying your best to enjoy the moment and not think about how in an hour you’d be walking down the aisle next to Ashton. 

Ashton’s POV

You were nursing your second cup of coffee, hoping it would take the edge off your hangover. You didn’t intend on drinking so much last night but you didn’t want to think about anything or anyone. You understood why Y/N was still upset with you and you didn’t blame her but were definitely hoping that she’d at least give you the chance to apologize. You couldn’t believe you actually said that to her, “unless you need some help keeping that pretty mouth shut.” Your temper regrettably got the better of you, which meant your dominance came out too. You were kind of torn, part of you want to put her pretty mouth to work just completely dominate her but part of you also wanted to whisk her away and worship every inch of her. Your mind was consumed with her, thinking about the way she’d feel pressed against you, how soft and sweet her lips probably are, the way her thighs would feel clenched around your head.

“I’m guessing she didn’t accept your apology?” the groom sat down next to you, interrupting your thoughts. 

“She did not,” you sighed. “Can’t blame her though, I was a twat.” 

He chuckled, “Mate, we’re all twats when we’re fourteen. You admitted you were wrong and apologized, that’s what’s important. Now get your ass up so I can go get married.” 

Y/N’s POV

Most of the guests had arrived and it was almost time for you and the rest of the wedding party to walk down the aisle. You started to think about what Ashton would be wearing, it would be hard for him to top last night but you had a feeling he’d somehow manage to do so and he’d probably do it effortlessly too. He truly was infuriating, he’s so attractive and he damn well knows it too.  

You gave yourself one last glance in the mirror before you hugged your best friend and walked out into the corridor where the rest of the wedding party was gathered. The groomsmen were all wearing traditional black suits, white shirts and black ties and yet somehow it looked different on him. He put everyone else to shame in that suit and you knew you weren’t the only one who thought so. You slowly sauntered over to where Ashton and another bridesmaid were joking around, her hand playfully slapping his arm. You intentionally shot daggers her way. You wish you could say you were surprised that he was flirting with her but you weren’t, she was petite and skinny and everything you weren’t. 

“Everyone’s lining up,” you said her coldly. 

 You could feel Ashton’s body language shift as she said goodbye to him and left the two of you standing alone. Your mouth was dry and a massive lump was stuck in your throat. You had been thinking of what to say to him all day but now that you were here right next to him, nothing seemed right so instead you stood next to him and quietly admired him. He was so handsome, even more so up close. His jawline was so sharp and his Adam's apple was so prominent you desperately wanted to kiss and nip at his neck. He smelled like warmth and citrus, what you imagined sunshine smelled like. He had to have noticed you staring, you were making no attempts to hide it. Ashton startled you when he stuck his arm out for you to link yours in. You inhaled deeply before snaking your arm through his. 

Ashton’s POV

Walking down the aisle with Y/N was tense, at least on your end. Her arm was looped in yours and she smelled sweet like vanilla and not to mention the fact that she looked stunning. She definitely knew how to accentuate all her best assets. The two of you hadn’t said anything to each other since last night but you found the words spewing out of your mouth like word vomit as you reached the end of the aisle. 

“You look beautiful,” you whispered to her as the two of you parted ways. 

God, you felt stupid for saying that. Obviously she didn’t care what you thought. You never struggled this much with women, most of the time it was actually pretty effortless for you; the words just flowed naturally. With Y/N it was completely different, you second guessed everything about yourself and it was driving you mad. You spent most of the ceremony keeping your eyes on the couple or at the ground, occasionally stealing a glance at Y/N. She looked poetic standing there holding a bouquet of flowers. 

Y/N’s POV 

The ceremony was beautiful. You were so happy for your friends and you wanted to make sure that they had an amazing night with no outbursts but Ashton was making it difficult. He told you that you looked beautiful as you were walking down the aisle. Was he trying to make up for all the nasty things that were said about your looks back in school or did he actually mean it? Of course you were hoping that he actually thought you were beautiful but you feared that he was just trying to clear his conscious. You ignored his statement and didn’t plan on addressing it but then you were all getting ready to take pictures of the entire wedding party when he came up behind you and gently placed his hand on your back. You had so many mixed emotions feeling his touch.  You were desperate for it, wanted it so badly but your pessimistic nature got the better of you. 

You flinched feeling his breath on your neck. “How many times am I gonna have to tell ya you’re beautiful before you answer me?” he whispered. 

You stepped away from his touch, “Depends. How many more times before your conscious is clean?” you snapped. You didn’t wait for him to respond, you didn’t want to make a scene. You found your spot next to the bride and continued on like nothing was wrong the best you could.

Ashton’s POV

After your last encounter you figured it was best that you kept your distance from Y/N for the rest of the night and then after that the two of you wouldn’t have to see each other ever again. Obviously that’s not what you wanted but it’s what she wanted and you respected that. 

  You were definitely regretting your offer to sing for the first dance, you were really just ready to get drunk again. You downed the last of your scotch before making your way to the band. After brief introductions you slung the guitar over your shoulder and walked to the microphone. 

“Excuse me everyone, if I could have your attention for a moment,” you projected to the crowd. “Can I have everyone clear the dance floor for the first dance.” 

 Everyone cleared the space and cheered as the bride and groom made their way to the floor in front of you. You quietly counted off to the band behind you as you all started to play.  They chose the song ‘Conversations in the Dark’ by John Legend, it was a perfect wedding song and honestly took quite a while to learn but you were happy to do it for them. 

Y/N’s POV

The second you saw him standing on stage with a guitar you knew it was over, there was no way you’d be able to fight it any longer. His voice was unique and smooth, the way his fingers danced along the neck of the guitar sent shivers down your spine. The song itself was beautiful, you were familiar with it but the way it sounded with his voice was breath taking. The whole situation was overwhelming; your best friend getting married, your ex cheating on you, and the guy you spent most of your childhood hating standing in front of you singing.  You didn’t even realize you started crying until tears ran down your cheeks. You got up from the table and hurried outside for some air. You spent some time composing yourself, wiping your tears and touching up your make-up. 

  You decided you were done being angry and sad for tonight, you were ready to go have a couple of drinks and dance but the universe had other plans. For the second time that weekend you were met with an unwanted face, only this time it wasn’t Ashton.

“Hiya pet,” your ex boyfriend stood there perched against the wall; a cigarette in one hand, a drink in the other and a smug look plastered on his face.

[overheardatthecontinental]

Talk Chapter 17

Chapter 17 on AO3

He only leaves the room for the sake of getting water for each of them. They had torn the rest of the covers off the bed, leaving only a sheet for Helen to lay under. John slips on his pajama pants, forgoing the shirt as he leaves the room.

His cheeks are flushed and he’s grateful that the beard hides most of it as he prepares for whatever comments Marcus is going to have. As he reaches the juncture of the kitchen and the living room, however, the assassin is nowhere to be seen.

He looks around and spots a piece of paper folded in half with his name on it on the counter.

John flips it open.

While I’m thrilled you finally got your head on straight, I have no interest in listening to you do the nasty. Figured I’d give you two some privacy. Be back in a few hours.

PS. Fuck this up and I will kill you myself.

John sets it down, lips twitching into an almost-smile. If he fucked this up, he’d beat Marcus to the punch.

His thoughts drift back to the woman in his bed. The  naked  woman in his bed.

He fills two glasses of water and turns back, unwilling to waste any time. They had wasted enough of that.

In the midst of their afterglow, they had talked a bit. Kissed some more.

"What changed?" She had asked.

"Had a talk with Sofia. She pointed out I was so concerned with what I thought you deserved; I never took into account what you wanted."

"Remind me to send her a thank you card."

And then, Helen had pushed him to his back and climbed on top of him.

Who was he to deny her anything?

Instead he had watched as she guided his length inside her before she began riding his cock. That sight of her moving, his hands on her hips, her breasts bouncing would forever be etched into his head. And after they had both come undone, Helen had collapsed on top of him.

Sweating and gasping, his softening cock still inside her. Helen wrapped her arms around him the best she could manage. She kissed his chest before whispering, again, that she loved him.

And, fuck, but those words did  something to him.

Aside from reducing his refractory period to next to nothing, they made him feel safe.

A feeling as foreign as love, he'd never really felt safe with anybody. The orphanage had been a disastrous experiment in human suffering. Tarkovsky Theater, under the Director, hadn't been any better. 

It had taken him years to trust Winston, Marcus, and Sofia. But it was different. He didn't trust them with his life so much as understand their own sense of loyalty would keep him from betrayal.

And that aside, he had never trusted any of them with his heart.

He's never been so vulnerable as laying naked in bed with her. But he isn't afraid. Despite all assumptions of what it would be like to actually give in, he doesn't feel an ounce of fear.

He has never felt so at peace in all of his life.

John pushes open the door and feels his breath leave his lungs at the sight before him.

The white sheet covers most of her body, tucked around the swell of her breasts. Her dark hair is spread across the pillow, her eyes are closed.

He’s captivated.

He’s always captivated by her but,  fuck . How could one person be so beautiful, so perfect?

Her lips stretch into a smile, “What are you doing, John?”

“Looking at you.”

Helen’s eyes open, taking him in. Softly, she demands, “Come here.”

Helpless to resist, he closes the door behind him and follows her. She’s like a siren.

He sets the glasses on the bedside table before placing a hand on the far side of her. Helen’s hand reaches up, caressing his cheek, as he bends low, bowing his head to brush his lips against hers.

The thought sticks in his head again:  I love you, I love you, I love you .

And as they break apart, as he rests his head against hers, he remembers he doesn’t have to keep it to himself anymore.

“I love you.”

She hums, “I love you, too.”

John kisses her again before reaching for her water. He hands it to her and sits back, giving Helen the space to sit up.

She takes a sip, “Did Marcus give you a hard time?”

He smirks, “Marcus decided to disappear for a few hours.”

“Oh no! I didn’t mean to make him uncomfortable and—”

John leans forward and cuts her off with a kiss, taking great joy in the fact he can do that now. “He’ll be fine.” John assures her, kissing her head before scooting further up the bed so he can rest against the headboard.

“Still…”

Her concern for making Marcus leave is adorable.

“He’s probably out antiquing or hitting up farm stands. I’m sure he’s having the time of his life.”

She inclines her head before leaning into his side, resting her head on his shoulder. His fingers trail across her naked back until his arm is wrapped around her.

It feels so natural to hold her, which is strange, he thinks. He has no experience holding anybody. He can’t quite make sense of it but decides it doesn’t matter.

The only thing that matters is holding on to this feeling.

His heart races at the thought.

He meant what he said to Sofia. He would leave the Underworld, happily, to be with her. If she’d have him.

John swallows, unsure if he should wait to broach the topic until things have settled between them. He had only just told her he loved her and though he was inexperienced in terms of pillow talk, he was fairly certain you weren’t supposed to bring up serious topics.

Helen reaches to the side and sets down her glass before snuggling back against him.

“What are you thinking?” She asks.

He can’t lie to her, but he pauses. If he told her he’d rather not talk about it yet, she would let it go. But a part of him didn’t want to drop it.

“Hels…” He blinks, licking his lips, “If… if I could get out, would you wait for me?”

She seems to take on his meaning immediately. Helen lifts her head from his shoulder, looking up in surprise. Her words are nearly breathless as she asks, “Is that an option?”

“It’s rare. Most people… they don’t want to leave the Underworld and the privileges it affords. But I think I could do it. After DeLuca is taken care of and the contract is dropped, I could…” he nearly stumbles upon the word, “retire.”

The word sends a wave of warmth through his body. The thought of spending his nights with Helen rather than stalking the streets of New York was intoxicating. Dinner ready and on the table when she got home from work, pouring her a glass of wine and talking about her day. Evenings spent with Helen curled up watching tv, or her feet in his lap as she reads on the couch or building a fire out on the deck to sit by.

And when Helen was at work, he could focus on his bookbinding. Or reading. Keeping the house…

“And you could leave… without consequences?”

“I don’t think it would be simple.” He admits, “I’m on retainer for a few organizations but I think I could get out of it.”

Helen licks her lips, almost nervously, “Have you… thought about this? Really thought about this? Not just in a post-sex glow.”

“Yes.” He says with resounding certainty, reminding her, “I’ve talked about wanting a normal life before.”

“In the abstract, yes. But that’s very different.”

She doesn’t sound critical so much as curious, John notes. But the fact she hasn’t answered his question is still burning in his mind.

“A couple weeks ago,” he says softly, “you asked me what it would look like if I got to change my life how I saw fit.”

“You were evasive.” She remembers.

He was. Trapped between lying and making her uncomfortable, he had twisted his words. Prevaricated and told a half-truth to keep her from demolishing his walls.

“I would have you.” He whispers, aware of the way her breath hitches, “It’s you. It’s always you, Hels. You’re all I want.”

Her hand reaches up to touch his face. John turns to kiss her palm.

Helen’s eyes are watery and she swallows, “You know, I’m not always easy to be around. You’re used to me psychoanalyzing you once a week. It would be every day. I can’t turn it off.”

“You’re already in my head every moment of every day.” He takes her hand and presses a kiss to her wrist, her forearm.

“I can be manipulative without even trying.”

John rises to his knees and kisses her shoulder.

“Manipulate me, then.”

He presses an open-mouthed kiss to the crook of her neck, reveling at the soft whimper she rewards him with.

“When I’m stressed, I get really touchy and clingy.”

“Promise?”

A small laugh escapes her as he kisses her way up her neck. “I’m serious!” She sets her hands on his shoulders, leaning back, looking serious again. “You’ve been in this life so long… I don’t want you to make a decision you might regret.”

He won’t, he is certain. But, in a rare moment of emotional clarity, John realizes something: this is about her.

He thinks back a few nights to when they had stayed up late, confessing their sins to one another. To the words she had said in the moments before she had shared her own past with him.

I am utterly terrified of letting you down.

It had broken him then; it breaks him now.

“Hels, I love you.” He meets her eyes, “And without you… I probably would live my entire life in the Underworld, looking over my shoulder. But I don’t want that. I want you.”

Helen swallows, scanning his face or any sign of untruth or uncertainty. When she finally responds, it’s a whisper, “You’re sure?”

His lips twitch, “More sure than I’ve ever been.”

He leans in, capturing her lips once again, before he lowers her to the bed.

…

It comes as a surprise for John that it is not merely the act of sexual congress that satisfies him but the time after the fact. The  afterglow  as Helen had put it, wherein she cuddled just a little bit closer to him and they spoke in soft, hushed tones.

The small, satisfied smile on her face was what he was living for at the moment. That, and the way her fingers traced patterns on his chest.

He catches her hand in his and draws it up to his mouth, pressing a kiss to each fingertip.

She sighs contentedly, leaning back to watch him.

This , he thinks, could be his life.

He’s tempted to never move again but there are still things to be done. Enemies to be eliminated. And it also occurs to him that Helen had been starting to make dinner when he burst through the door hours ago.

“You hungry?” He asks.

“A little.” She admits, “But I don’t want to move.”

He knows the feeling all too well. With a final kiss to her palm, he slips out from under her arm. “Come on. I’ll make you dinner.”

“You’re gonna cook for me?” She sounds pleasantly surprised by the realization. Good, he thinks. He’ll cook for her every day if she lets him.

“Mhmm.” He offers a hand and pulls her to her feet.

“I feel spoiled.” Helen snatches his white button down from the floor, teasing him with a look like she’s daring him to try to take it from her.

John just smirks as she slips it on, walking to his suitcase to pull out a plain t-shirt and a clean pair of sweatpants. He watches as Helen carefully does up the buttons that he already is making plans to undo. Later.

After she’s eaten.

The shirt falls halfway down her thighs and he tries, he really tries, to get the potential image of it hoisted over her hips while he fucks her against the wall out of his head.

Fuck .

She slips her underwear back on and glances up at him.

Her lips twitch, “Food, John.”

“Hmm?” He meets her eyes.

“You have to eat food,” she explains, “Before you can eat me.”

And now he has  that image in his head. Helen, leaning against the wall, her leg hoisted over his shoulder as he eats her out. Or, in a chair, her legs spread enticingly as he falls to his knees and buries his face between her thighs…

She rolls her eyes, “Come on, baby.”

He flushes at the pet name but follows her. Back down the hall and into the kitchen. Despite his haste in departing, Marcus had saved the vegetables Helen had chopped up and placed them back in the fridge.

John grabs the vegetables and the chicken and sets them on the counter.

“Wine?” Helen calls from the living room.

“Sure.”

“Red okay?”

“Yeah.” He finds the microwave rice cooker under the cabinet and pours in half a cup of rice. Helen comes around the corner carrying two glasses of wine.

It’s a sight to behold: Helen, in his button-down, hair-mussed, carrying two glasses of wine.

He puts the cooker in the microwave and hits the button as she reaches him, handing John the slightly less-full glass. John sets it to the side, instead, wrapping an arm around her waist as she laughs, holding her glass up so it doesn’t spill.

“John!”

His name, alone, on her lips makes his heart swell.

It’s so different than the way anyone else says his name.

He presses half a dozen kisses to her face while she laughs, squirming in his arms. With a final kiss to her lips, he lets her go.

Helen smirks, slipping back to lean against the opposite counter as John forces himself to get back to work. He keeps it simple with a chicken and vegetable stir-fry.

“Gotta say, you look pretty good cooking dinner.”

He can’t help the smile as he glances over his shoulder, “Oh yeah?”

“Mhmm.” Helen takes a sip of her wine, “I’m really into the whole housewife thing you got going on.” John rolls his eyes but that just eggs her on. “I’m serious. Make me dinner. Maybe a back rub. I’ll fuck you for ten minutes, then roll over and go to sleep.”

He snorts at that, before turning to walk over to her. She bites her lip as he reaches for her, hands digging into her sides before he hoists her up and sets her on the counter almost effortlessly.

“Just ten minutes?” He teases back.

“Maybe a bit longer. If you’re good.”

“Sweetheart, I can be  very  good.”

Helen reaches around, cupping the back of his head, drawing him in for a kiss. They’re nearly the same height like this and she takes full advantage of the fact that neither one of them are craning their heads.

A part of her is still surprised that it isn’t awkward. New relationships were supposed to be awkward, although she also considers that this isn’t a typical new relationship. Their foundation had been laid months ago. Their friendship built upon that bedrock, tested through implicit trust and unwavering devotion.

And while she felt like she should, she couldn’t bring herself to feel guilty for how they got here. Especially when her misdeed was barely a tremor of a wave in the ocean of the Underworld.

She fell in love with her client; John killed people for a living.

They would figure the rest out, together.

Helen rests her head against his with a gentle sigh, overwhelmingly content.

With a final peck on the lips, John turns back to their dinner as Helen watches.

Transferable skills, she thinks, as he quickly dices up chicken. His skill with a knife was unparalleled. He adds it to the skillet before finishing the vegetables she had been in the middle of when he came home.

She’s more than happy to sit back, drinking her wine, watching him work.

 He’s efficient, quickly pulling together a meal which they eat on the couch, finally taking a moment to catch up on their day. His discussion with Sofia that had led him, as Helen so kindly put it, to getting his head out of his ass. The hours Helen had spent analyzing Santino before he had been picked up and skirted away to the spa.

By the time they hear the sound of tires on gravel, they’re already finished eating, bowls set on the coffee table as Helen sits perched upon his lap, an arm around his shoulders and his wrapped around hers.

The door opens slowly, hesitantly and Helen lets out a little laugh as Marcus calls loudly, “Is everybody decent?”

She resists the urge to quip  not morally , instead taking pity on the assassin who had kindly disappeared to allow them privacy, “Yes. It’s safe to come in.”

They hear the door shut and Marcus rounds the corner, hand a few inches away from his face in case he needs to shield his eyes.

John feels his cheeks heating up and, again, is grateful that his flush is mostly covered by the beard.

“Glad you two finally got your shit sorted.” Marcus says, walking around before falling to sit in his chosen chair, “You came pretty close to losing her to another today.”

John blinks, unsure of what he means. Other than Marcus, Santino was the only other man Helen would have seen and he knew her well enough to know she would  never go for that type.

“Oh, hush.” Helen says with a grin, “It was light flirting at best.”

Marcus shakes his head, “Sweetheart, I don’t understand a lick of ASL, but that wasn’t  light  flirting.”

John blinks again, “ Ares? ” he asks in surprise.

Helen hums, “If I were fifteen years younger, she might have given you a run for your money.”

He’s not quite sure how to process that, shaking his head. He should have fucking guessed Santino’s bodyguard would have no qualms hitting on John Wick’s woman. Hell, it probably made it all the more fun for her.

“I didn’t know you could sign.” John comments.

“Back when I did family counseling, I had several families with deaf kids.”

“All I know was there was a blur of hands and Santino turned red as a tomato watching whatever the two of you were saying.”

“She’s fucking hilarious.”

“Do I want to know?” John asks.

“Probably not,” Helen’s spare hand trails down his chest, “But I can give you the highlights of some of her suggestions later.”

“Agh,” Marcus says, putting up a hand for her to stop, “I take it back. Go back to pining. I’ll gladly take that over suggestive flirting any day.”

“Gotta get used to it.” Helen says. She kisses his cheek once before climbing out of his lap, taking her wine glass from the table and walking over to the liquor cabinet. She grabs an empty glass and raises it towards Marcus in offering.

Marcus shrugs but nods, before turning to look at John, “Sofia knock some sense into you?”

“Figuratively speaking.”

“The fact that you have to distinguish that it was figurative blows my mind.” Helen says as she pours herself a hearty second glass.

“Eh, Sof is great. But she’s got a mean left hook. And a right hook.”

“And no sense of self-preservation.” John adds.

“Fun.”

“Everything went alright with Isabella, though?”

Nodding, John says, “Sofia’s got her in lockdown in a motel just outside the city. If all goes well, we won’t even need her but if DeLuca tries anything…” They still had their leverage.

Helen hands Marcus his glass before she takes a seat next to John. “How likely to do you think that is?”

“DeLuca’s gotta be planning on something. The moment the contract is lifted, he’s got to know he’s dead meat.”

John shakes his head, “He wants a marker.”

“From you?” The surprise in Marcus’s voice is evident.

“I’m not happy with it, but he won’t be able to use it. It’s a catch-22.”

“What’s a marker?” Helen asks.

John thinks of how to best explain it, “It’s a promise for a future favor. One sealed by blood.”

“DeLuca’s making you promise him a favor?”

“Not exactly. There are stipulations associated. Namely, you can’t kill the bearer of your marker.” John says, “So if he were to use the marker, I would be able to kill him.”

She shakes her head, “The Underworld really is built on mutually assured destruction.”

“It’s the only way to make killers play nice.” Marcus quips. “There have to be rules and strict consequences.”

Helen sits back, considering the implications. Looking for loopholes. “ You  can’t kill him because you’ll have given him the marker. Could you have someone else kill him?”

“Conspiring to kill someone with your marker brings the same consequences.” John explains.

“But you haven’t given him the marker yet. So, could you conspire to kill him now?”

He has to resist the urge to smirk at just how fucking adorable she is trying to make sense of their bizarre world.

John shakes his head, “Intent has been expressed to give him a marker, so no. If Marcus were to leave this conversation and go kill DeLuca, someone could claim that I influenced it. It’s called  ‘Willful Interference’ . It’s not quite a death sentence but you can still get in a lot of trouble with the High Table for purposefully interfering with another’s marker.”

She nods slowly, thoughtfully. “I could kill him.”

Marcus chokes on his wine and even John is taken aback at her statement.

It takes John a moment to recover. “ Absolutely not. ”

“Wait a minute…” Marcus says, rubbing his chest, “That’s actually brilliant. Helen isn’t bound by the High Table.”

“No.”

“Just consi—”

“No!” John says again, looking between them incredulously, “This isn’t up for discussion.”

Helen rolls her eyes but drops it. It’s far too easy, John thinks, but he’s not going to address it until they head back to New York.

“I don’t like the idea of you going in to face him alone.” Helen comments, “Promise of a marker or not. DeLuca’s sneaky. And no offense, baby, but picking up social cues is not your strong point.”

“Full offense, John. She’s right.” Marcus adds. Helen shoots him a look and the older assassin shuts up. “Could you leave Isabella tied up and take Sof with you?”

“I think that’s unnecessary,” John shakes his head, “I’m fine with social cues.”

Helen makes a face, like she’s trying to be polite, “You’re really not. And that’s not a judgment, but you don’t always pick up on things.”

John rolls his eyes, “I’ve made it this far.”

“Barely.” Marcus mutters.

“I get that you want to handle this on your own, but I really think Sofia should go with you.”

“You think I’m that bad at picking up on social cues?” John asks, a little offended. No, he wasn’t a political person by nature, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t piece shit together. And he was an expert at picking up behavioral cues from those around him, particularly other killers.

Helen sighs, “John, do you remember the day we met?”

“Of course.” He would never forget it.

“I bought you a coffee and gave you my cell number.”

John nods once.

“Oh, boy.” Marcus says, looking at John almost amused.

“I bought you a coffee,” she repeats, “And gave you my cell number.”

John nods, “Yes. And I called you.”

“Mhmm. You called my office and set up an appointment.”

Again, John nods.

“This is going to be harder than I thought.” Helen says setting down her glass of wine. Marcus grins at her.

“Believe me, sweetheart, it’s harder to  watch .”

“I don’t understand.” John blinks.

“Yeah, I got that.” Helen says, and she tries again, gesturing with her hand, “I wrote my  personal cell phone number on the back of my card.”

“Yes.”

Her shoulders sink, making John wary. She looks to Marcus, who shakes his head, “This is getting painful.”

“Yeah,” she mutters before looking back to John and emphasizing, “I gave you my personal number and bought you a coffee.”

“This has been established.”

Marcus finally takes pity on Helen’s feeble attempts to get John to connect the dots and says, “For fucks’ sake, man, she was  hitting on you.”

John makes a face and shakes his head, “No, she wasn’t.”

Helen arches a brow and stares at John intently.

“No, you weren’t.” John says, suddenly with less certainty.

She nods.

“Oh, god. You were hitting on me?”

“The penny drops.” Mumbles Marcus.

“Yes. And then you called my work line and I figured I had misread things and you just wanted a therapist. I mean, no offense, but after sitting with you for twenty minutes, it was clear you needed someone to talk to.”

“You were hitting on me.” John repeats completely dumbfounded.

“Took me months to realize that you had a thing for me,” she says, glancing to Marcus in amusement before turning back to John, “but by then, you were already my client.”

“Jesus.” John sits, blinking rapidly.

“Think he needs a minute.” Marcus says before finishing his glass of wine. “And I’m making the executive decision. Take Sofia. Find somebody at the Continental to watch Isabella.”

He finds himself nodding in agreement, still a little dazed by the sudden realization that he could have had her seven months ago. All this could have been avoided, but then, he thinks, they might not have ever reached this point.

Would he have been able to be honest with her in a different setting? To open up and tell her the truth about who he was and what he did?

The line between them, which had finally been demolished, was what helped him when he decided to risk it all and tell her the truth. The boundary protected his heart even as he bared his soul, until he was ready for the rest.

He couldn’t be certain that, without it, he would have ever revealed his hand to her.

John glances over to the woman in question. Her teeth are biting into her lower lip bashfully. Shaking his head, he drapes his arm over the back of the couch and Helen scooches closer, leaning into his side. He kisses her head.

“Never thought to bring that up in seven months?” He asks.

She shrugs, reaching up to the hand draped around her. “Wasn’t relevant. I was trying to maintain some semblance of professional boundaries.”

He has to resist the urge to roll his eyes, “And how’d that work for you?”

“All truth is subjective. While I’m feeling pretty great, the American Counseling Association would definitely frown upon my actions of late.”

John snorts, pulling her closer so he can kiss her head.

“They’d probably also frown on how many people John’s killed.” Marcus adds.

“Oh, definitely. Intent to kill is a big one for them. Knowing he’s killing people on a weekly, sometimes daily basis, would  definitely get me in more trouble than sleeping with him.”

Marcus smirks, “Glad to know you’ve given it thought.”

Helen just smiles, resting her head against John’s shoulder. She closes her eyes for a moment, content to just breathe John in.

It had been a good day. A  wonderful  day. But a long one. An exhausting emotionally charged day. One she hadn’t been fully prepared for, especially when John had left for the day.

But he had come back.

And they were still figuring things out. The revelation that John wanted to leave the Underworld had staggered her but filled her with excitement and anticipation all the same. They still needed to talk, but they knew where they both stood now. Together.

She opens her eyes and presses a kiss to his collarbone.

He strokes her hair, lovingly.

Had anything ever felt so right?

“You look tired.” His voice is soft and warm.

“Wonder why that would be.” She smirks when the small visible part of his cheek flushes pink.

“Gross.” Marcus comments but they both ignore him.

John slips his free hand under her legs, drawing her onto his lap before he stands, lifting her with him. She laughs, softly, at the ease which he picks her up.

“Goodnight, Marcus.” She says as John nods his own goodbye.

“Goodnight, sweetheart.”

John carries her back down the hall, to their bedroom. He closes the door behind them and Helen smirks and warns, “Careful, John. Keep carrying me everywhere and I might get used to it.”

“Good.” He tells her, kissing her head before laying her down on her side of the bed. “Get used to it.”

Her own cheeks flush and he feels momentarily victorious.  This impressed her? He hadn’t begun to try.

The world would be hers.

He’d expand the library in his house to make room for her books. He’d make her dinner every night and breakfast each morning. Bring her lunch when she’s working. Take her away on the weekends. She loved the ocean, he knew. He’d buy a house somewhere by the sea for them to escape to on vacations.

Or bring her back here, where they first acted upon their feelings.

Take her back to the café where they met, only this time, he won’t leave without a kiss.

He’ll do whatever she wants so long as she looks at him the way she is right now.

He might never deserve her, but he’ll do whatever it takes for her never to regret it. 

..............

Once again, thank you to @meetmeinthematinee​ for her wonderful editing skills