#before he left he told me he was wearing the cologne we’d been talking about

[weaveme-into-yoursin]

.

[4joonkookie]

Mirror, Mirror.

➹ Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

➹ Words: 3K

➹ Summary:

(smutty) You tell Jungkook that you don’t want to talk. He makes sure to keep you quiet. OR

(Angsty) Your established, long-distance relationship with Jungkook has reached an impasse. OR

(Angsty & Smutty) Jungkook makes you take a long, hard look at yourself.

➹ Tags/Warnings:

SMUT, Established Relationship, Long Distance Relationship, Public Sex, Car Sex, Clothed Sex, Rushed Sex, Mirror Sex, Unprotected Sex, Creampie, Dubious Consent, Blowjob, Cunnilingus, Oral Sex, (Jungkook literally pulls up a chair to eat you out), Fingering, Rough Sex, Mouth Covering, Shoving, Angry Sex, Drinking, Embarrassment, Spanking, ANGST, Failure to Communicate, Commitment Issues, Avoidant Behavior, Female Character with Fuckboi!Tendancies, Petty!Jungkook, Unresolved Ending, Ending up to Reader Interpretation, Easter Eggs?

**

You’re late on purpose.

You told Jungkook you couldn’t make it until just about when the cars would be leaving to take the boys and their group to the event.

He greets you with a kiss at the door when you rush in, dressed and ready to the hotel room everyone gathers in. You eagerly greet and catch up with the others. Jungkook knowingly raises his eyebrow at you.

He doesn’t deserve this and you’re not proud of it but you aren’t ready to talk about it. Everything was left in the air last you saw each other and there’s a lot to discuss. You managed to get away from work for just 1 night, so, you plan on avoiding it until your next visit, maybe another 2 weeks.

That would give you enough time to think about it, about what you would say. It might give you time to come up with a good reason why he’s completely wrong about this.

So, you settle for getting ready for a formal event in the airport bathroom. That’s how badly you don’t want to talk about it.

A voice announces that the cars are here and people fuss at themselves in the full length mirror before corralling out the door. Soon, it’s just you left, touching up your red lipstick. You almost never wear it but hope It hides your total cowardice.

Jungkook approaches you from behind in the mirror.

Can we talk about it?”, he asks your reflection.

“I’m not sure now is a good time”, you say as casually as possible.

“Well, will there be a good time before you leave tomorrow morning? We never finished talking...”

“We weren’t talking, we were arguing.”, you interrupt and pull his arms around you from behind, hands laced at your waist. “Look, we have one night. And I have to leave for the airport by 7:30 tomorrow.”

He pauses before he speaks. “No you don’t.”, he says plainly. Silence hangs heavy in the air.

You take a breath. “But I will.” You shrug and sigh, still in his arms.

“So, the answer to my question is ‘no’, you plan on avoiding the topic until….”

“...until I come back.”, you finish, trying to sound optimistic.

He pulls his hands from around you and steps away from you.. “In 2 weeks.”, he scoffs. “So, what, you’re here to get fucked and leave?”

You turn to face him and tell the truth. “I miss you, baby.” You plant a soft, closed kiss on his lips. “I'm here to see you.”, you inspect his mouth for any trace of lipstick. “Besides….would it be the worst thing if I came for one night just to get fucked?”, you tease, turning to the mirror again.

He snickers, “...no”. He kisses your neck and shifts his crotch against your ass. “I just worry you think this problem won’t be here when you get back.”

“Please, Jungkook, I just want to be with you, I don’t want to fight. There’s no chance we could solve this in a night anyway.”

Jimin renters the room to gather you. “We need to go_”, he stops when he sees Jungkook’s worried reflection. “Everything ok?”

Jungkook abruptly drops his arms from you. “We’re having an argument,'' he announces. “but we’re not talking about it.” He moves to hold the door open and gestures for you and Jimin to exit before him.

Ugh. Brat.

The back of the private car is your proverbial doghouse as you both sip your cocktails in silence, Jungkook obviously agitated. You sit next to each other, such a big space for just 2 people. A small gap between you feels wider than ever.

“I’m sorry. I’m just not ready”, you finally say, lamely.

“It’s fine,'' he replies quickly. “You don’t want to talk, we won’t.” He finishes one drink and pours another.

You stay quiet, still without the right words. He looks at you and thinks for a long time. You almost ask if he’s ok when he finally speaks.

“You look really good.”, he abruptly spits out and laughs as if he’s missed something that had been in front of him the whole time. “I’m sorry I didn't tell you earlier. I wanted to tell you in the mirror.“

You’re relieved with his light-heartedness and grateful for the effects of alcohol as you close the gap between you, placing your hand on his closest thigh.

The cabin is dimly lit with a bluish light. Jungkook brings his face so close to yours, tingles go down your spine. He smells like a mixture of cologne and liquor.

“I like your pretty red lips.”, he hums, voice deep and low. His eyes, dark in the dim light. “And if you’re not going to use them to talk...”, tracing his thumb over your bottom lip and leaning in to whisper, “...I want them wrapped around my cock.” He moves his hand back and tugs at your hair.

You waste no time. The area of the car is spacious enough that you can get to your knees below him. You work together to pull his trousers down far enough to expose his pretty leaking cock.

You start a long lick with a flat tongue at the base of his shaft and up to the tip. You hollow your cheeks and fully engulf him on the way back down, knowing it’s just a matter of time before you arrive.

He guides your head as you diligently slide up and down, slurping and occasionally stopping to hold the tip at the back of your throat. Soon, his hips lift on every trip down, squirming and unable to hold back the prettiest whines.

“Look at me”, Jungkook urges. You turn your head to the side to look up and run your tongue up a vein on the side of his shaft.

“So good, noona.”, he says with his eyes rolling backward with a smirk. He pushes your head down harder, driving you to increase the pace.

He fills your mouth with a groan. You swallow, eager to take whatever he gives you.

The car comes to a stop and you pull yourself together enough to get to the bathroom inside to check your lipstick.

***

Wherever you are, it’s huge. A massive hall with doors that seemed to go on forever. The party and guests, relegated to one (very big) room.

As the guests and your group get toasted and social, it becomes easier to step away from your unresolved issues than you thought. Jungkook and the boys are laughing and enjoying themselves. Everyone’s guard is down, including you.

That’s why you love these types of events. The ones with no cameras or staff, where boys can bring dates or just be themselves. There’s so many of these things you CAN'T go to; another point of contention between you and Jungkook.

Here, when everyone can just be together without a camera, it seems easy. The last moments of your previous visit begin to replay in your mind, as you watch Jungkook charm the room.

“What are you so afraid of?”, his voice echoes in your mind. Suddenly, the mellow tone of the room fades and it feels stifling and small, heat flooding to your chest.

You make your way to the entry doors. Maybe to get some air, or make an escape, you’re not sure. You calmly peek outside the big room to the empty big hall with endless doors. Before the door can close behind you, Jungkook peeks out, whispering and smiling. “Where are you going?”, worries obviously set aside. His face is comforting and makes it feel like you can breathe again.

“Exploring.”, you whisper back with a wink and extend your hand. He offers a cheeky smile and accepts.

You tipsily giggle down the hall into an empty room. It’s identical to the room the party is in, only this one is empty and one wall is made of full mirrors, like some kind of performance and rehearsal room.

You kiss and stumble into a corner. He takes both of your drink glasses and places them on the floor. He grabs your body so you face away and you’re looking at your reflections again.

“We were like this.” his lips are on your neck again and a hand sneaks up the slit in your dress and inside your thigh. “...when I saw how you looked in the mirror at the hotel.” He lets out a gratified sigh and slips his fingers effortlessly into you.

“Jungkook!”, you scold, doing your best not to sink into his sensation but it’s too late now. Your body is a step ahead of your mind and you’re moving your hips in time with his fingers. You place both hands on the mirror in front of you to brace yourself.

“What?”, he says innocently, still speaking to the mirror. You came here to get fucked and leave right? ”, pushing fingers in and out of your entrance. “Anyway”, he continues, “You know better. You should’ve showed up earlier so I could fuck you before we had to leave. You knew we’d end up like this.”

His skilled fingers stir inside you so delightfully that you close your eyes. He puts a squeezing hand on your shoulder to alert you.

“Keep your eyes on the mirror, baby. I want you to see what I see.” You make an effort to keep your eyes on the mirror but shriek when he lays a hard spank on you, cold rings intensifying the sting. He quickly removes his fingers to unbutton himself, lowering his pants again.

“Jungkook...”, you start, fussing to pull your dress down and yammering in panic about how you ‘can’t do this here’ and ‘what happens if we get caught?’.

He grins arrogantly and uses a hand to cover your mouth and pushes at the small of your back with the other so you're bent in front of him again, your hands propped against the glass. Your heart races when he lines his tip to your core.

“I don’t want to talk about it.” He thrusts himself into without warning. You let out a shocked moan. “Maybe we can talk about it when you come back in 2 weeks”, he taunts as he sets his rhythm.

Petty brat.

All thoughts wash away as you watch him take you in the mirror with punishing thrusts, so heavy, your eyes are closing again as you feel the brunt. He digs his nails into your shoulder.

“Eyes Open.”, he reminds, never breaking stride. Your bodies echo lewdly in the empty room. “You flew a long way for this, I want you to see everything.” His hand is pressed tight to your mouth and using his free hand on your shoulder to steady you, exhibiting you in the mirror.

Your eyes are open but they’re watching Jungkook. Sweat runs down his neck. You’re terrified to be caught but relish watching him take your body for himself, happy to shut up and watch.

“I could fuck you like this everyday if you wanted, noona.”, he menaces. You whimper behind his gripped hand. “Wouldn’t you like it if I could spoil this pussy everyday?”.

You can only nod in the mirror.

“I wish I could do it every day, baby.” Hand tight on your mouth, he pulls back on your body so his teeth can reach your neck. Arms off the mirror, Jungkook marks you.

When he releases your neck, he directs: “Touch yourself, baby. I want you to watch yourself come with my hand wrapped around your pretty mouth.”

You collect the abundant slick from around Jungkook’s cock at your opening to run your fingers to your clit. The other hand props yourself up against the mirror, back arched. You fight to stay focused on the mirror, the sensation on your clit making your legs buckle. Your whimpers are stifled behind his palm.

“That’s it, baby, that’s so good. His eyes are glued at your moving fingers, eyes egging you on. The warmth building at your center takes over you when he whispers.

“I'm gonna make you walk back into that room with my cum still dripping out of you.”

You gasp when he releases his grip on your face to replace your hand and continues to circle fingers around your clit while he thrusts deeper into you, and both of your moans resounding off the walls.

He grunts, slows, and lets himself fall out of you . Cum, already dripping down your thighs.

“I’ll see you in there.” He quickly buttons himself and leaves, his footsteps echoing through the empty room until the door closes.

His intentional coldness hurts but you can’t help

but feel that you deserve it. You clean up as best you can before rejoining the group.

***

You casually approach the group in the full room hoping you appear somewhat put together.

They stand in a circle and Hoseok looks at you from across. One arm around his date, he dabs a finger from the other hand underneath his bottom lip. “You’ve got a little…”

“...lipstick.”,Jimin pipes in from beside you and uses his own thumb to wipe the smeared lipstick.

“And a little…” Yoongi starts and dabs a finger in the same motion as Hoseok, only on the side of his neck.

Jimin pulls long strands of hair over your shoulder to cover the fresh bruise Jungkook marked into your neck.

Taehyung turns to Jungkook who has a shit-eating grin on his face. A few in the crew exchange glances and soon a knowing giggle ripples through the group. Blood hits your cheeks.

“What did I miss?” Seokjin says, looking at Jimin.

“They were fighting but now they’ve made up. Now You’re all caught up.”, Jimin chides.

“We didn’t make up.”, Jungkook corrects, his cheery disposition quickly fading. “She said she’s here for a night to get laid. I’m just making sure she gets what she came for.”

He walks away and leaves you to deal with the silence.

Namjoon expertly changes the attention and subject by asking about your job. He must know it’s your preferred way to avoid any real conversation.

The party winds down, the room slowly empties and guests make their way back to their cars.

The car ride home is silent, buzzes fading and exhaustion setting in. You make it back to his room when Jungkook finally speaks.

“You don’t get to be mad at me, you know.”

“Yes, I do.”, you snap back. “I just know I deserve it.”

“No, you don’t.”, he says, a flash of guilt passing over his face. “I just want you to talk to me. And we don't even need to solve any_.”

You’re relieved when he abruptly stops himself and raises 2 surrendering hands in the air. He mimics zipping his lips and winks.

No talking.

He shoves you so you fall back on the bed and pulls up a nearby chair to the edge, looking more determined than ever. He crawls above you and pushes your long dress up over your hips and opts to keep himself quiet instead of you. Diving in right away, he uses 2 fingers to spread your lips apart to give a straight licks before attaching to your exposed clit. He moans while he sucks, sending little vibrations through your center. He laps at you like he can’t get enough.

You start to squirm so he hooks an arm around one of your thighs in the air and the other hand to pin your 2nd thigh flat to the bed.

Hunched over, he continues work on you. You cover your own mouth with your hands while he flicks and sucks furiously on your clit, refusing to let up until your legs shake and he fights your thighs, eager to clamp shut around him.

Your hands drop from your face and shamelessly scream when you come, hands gripping the sheets.

He crawls up to kiss you, tasting him and yourself. He lays his head on your chest and squeezes your body tight. You stroke his head until he falls asleep. You close your eyes too, and when you open them again, the sun shines through the window and it’s time to leave.

You fuss in the bathroom mirror. Sleepy face Jungkook slides behind you and groans, voice still rough with sleep. He buries his face in your neck then lifts to look at your reflections. You both smile at the familiar position. He takes steps to turn on the shower and finds his way to you again.

He begins: “I know we’re not talking about it now….”, you flinch from his touch at the mention. He gets closer to you anyway, happy to press up against your thorny exterior. He continues, “but in 2 weeks, I’m going to ask you again. He presses his forehead against your temple and you listen, watching the mirror.

“Quit your stupid job. Please. Stay with me. And you don’t need to have an answer. But we have to talk about it.”

You nearly made it through this unscathed but two strokes to midnight, you finally snap.

“And talk about what, Jungkook? How you’ll be gone months at a time?, eyes on your own terrored expression in the mirror. “How I should uproot my life so I can live in random hotels basically alo_”. He turns you to face him and places his index finger over your running lips before you can finish.

“It’s 7:30. You need to leave if you’re going to catch your flight.” He moves his finger to kiss your lips.

He enters the shower without a word, confident you’ll be gone when he gets out.

PART 2/4 HERE

[flannels-and-fannypacks]

Will They Won’t They | Part 1/4 [Reggie Peters]

Pairing: Reggie Peters x fem!reader

Words: 7000

Summary: Reggie and reader were the best of friends up until middle school where they drifted apart and decided never to speak to each other again. What happens when a shared algebra class and a resulting detention force them to spend and increasing amount of time together. Will it be enough to overcome the mutual hate? Or was the relationship doomed from the start.

WARNINGS: swears, spicy dancing, ANGST

A/N: Okay this is the first of hopefully many collabs between Drea and I! We’re both so excited to share out very long baby with you and hope you guys enjoy reading it as much as we enjoyed writing it! - mimi <3

A/N (2): hi babes it’s drea taking over HAHAHA to repeat what mimi said, we are SO EXCITED to collab and work together to create this SUPER ANGSTY but also SUPER FLUFFY AND FUN fic! your feedback is highly appreciated! and if you like our writing, please like, comment, and reblog! we’d love to hear what you have to say! sending my love! - drea :)

                        ◤━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━◥

The night was young in your eyes. All the lights in the (L/N) household were off, aside from the nightlight in your bedroom. Despite it being nearly eleven at night, you and your best friend, Reggie Peters, were far from tired.

The soft humming from the radio was all that could be heard from your room, along with the occasional giggle from you or joke cracked by Reggie. You laid on your bed next to him, your legs tangled in the bedsheets. As much as you loved sleepovers with your best friend, you had to admit that Reggie’s growth spurt did not help your cramped situation.

“Your elbow is jabbing my ribs,” you grumbled, kicking Reggie towards the edge of your bed.

The boy only shoved you back, a playful smirk on his face. “You’re just jealous I’m taller than you now, Cookie,” he said triumphantly.

“I’m jealous you’re taking up all the space on my bed, dork,” you shot back, kicking hard enough to push him over the edge. Reggie let out a yelp before hitting the ground, groaning upon the impact. You fell into a fit of giggles as you peeked over the edge of your bed to see a pair of narrowed blue-green eyes and a scowl. “Sorry, Flicka,” you squeaked.

Reggie glared at you jokingly, rubbing his elbow in pain. “No you’re not,” he whispered back.

“Yeah, I’m not.”

You swung your legs over the edge of your bed, standing up to reach -well almost- Reggie’s height. You frowned at his arm, gingerly taking it into your hands. The boy winced upon first touch, but relaxed in your grasp. “Does it hurt a lot?” you asked in a concerned voice.

Reggie shrugged his shoulders. “It’s whatever,” he responded nonchalantly, but the pain in his voice was visible.

You raised an eyebrow at your best friend. “You don’t have to pretend to be all strong and tough,” you reminded him.

The taller boy sighed, a pout adorning his lips. “I know,” he murmured. “But we’re starting middle school soon. I should be ‘all strong and tough.’”

Snorting, you shook your head. “Who cares about that nonsense?” you exclaimed in a hushed voice. “We all feel pain, that’s not a bad thing. Besides, it’s just me, Flicka. You don’t need to put up an act.”

Reggie’s lips turned upwards as he looked into your eyes. Everything just felt right at the moment. The smile on your face. The redness in his cheeks. The moonlight reached the window and illuminated the room. It was perfect.

The radio, forgotten by the two of you, started to play a new song. Your song.

“You got a fast car

I want a ticket to anywhere”

Glancing up at Reggie, you could both tell you were thinking the exact same thing.

“Dance with me, Flicka?” you asked, giving his hands a squeeze.

Reggie’s face burned in embarrassment as you moved his hand to your waist. “I’m not any good at this, you know that, Cookie,” he muttered, resting his chin on top of your head.

You scoffed, starting to sway along to the music. “Just follow my lead, Reggie. I promise I won’t leave you hanging.”

There, the two of you swayed silently to the music. The moon shined bright from your window, making the blue and green in his eyes shine brighter than usual. Reggie watched as you moved your head so that it laid against his chest. You could hear his heart practically beating out of his chest, making you giggle softly.

“Flicka? you spoke up in a hushed tone. Reggie only hummed in reply. You took a deep breath. “Promise me you’ll never leave me?”

Reggie looked out the window, seeing a glimpse of both of your reflections through the glass. “I’d never leave you, Cookie.”

“You promise?” you whispered.

“I promise.”

That was your first broken promise. The first broken promise upon millions. Reggie told you he’d never leave you, that he’d always be your friend.

Funny how fragile promises can be.

That was nearly seven years ago. The late nights spent doing who knows what, listening to the radio seemed like a distant memory from a past life.

Now your days were spent alone in the library, bent over textbooks determined to ace your classes to get a scholarship and go to a good college. You wouldn’t make your parents pay for that. That was asking too much of them.

You weren’t sure where Reggie was, or what he was doing. Once you both were in middle school, he found himself new friends, and apparently a band, too. Even though you weren’t on speaking terms, you had listened to his music every once in a while. You knew he was destined for big things. Those big things just didn’t include you.

But that was fine. Your entire life wasn’t centred around some boy from your childhood. You had school and your family. So, for you, that meant signing up for all the most challenging classes and studying your ass off for all of them.

You didn’t want to admit it but this class was killing you. Your pride always got in the way. Most of the time, you believed you were capable of passing every class with flying colours. But, there was no denying this class was more difficult than the others. How were you supposed to know what effects the Great Depression had on farmers of that era? You weren’t them and they were all dead.

Your tired eyes drifted over to the clock and you sighed as you realized what time it was. Packing your things, you left the library and dragged your feet to your algebra class.

Sitting patiently in the front row while your teacher explained the lesson plan you barely even registered the faint knock on the door frame, but when you turned your head up your expression changed from one neutral to a scowl.

He hadn’t changed a bit. Aside from the whole outfit -he definitely switched his old sports sweatshirts for leather jackets sometime in freshman year- he was the same old Reggie Peters. The same dark hair, piercing blue-green eyes, and rosy red cheeks.

“Um, sorry I’m supposed to be in algebra with Mr. Milenika, I just got transferred.” the dark hair teen said, running a hand through his hair and shoving his hands in his pockets.

“Yes, Mr. Peters correct?”

Reggie nodded wordlessly. Your heart was beating out of your chest. Not from nerves, but is pure hatred for the boy. He couldn’t be in this class. He just couldn’t. Why would the universe do that to you?

“Very well, take a seat.”

Reggie walked into the class, eyeing where to take a seat when he noticed the only open spot was next to you.

His features hardened and he threw his bag down next to the empty desk, pulling out the chair and sitting in it with a loud thump.

“Flicka,” you spat.

“Cookie,” he nodded with a hiss in return.

“Great, I take it you two know each other?” Mr. Milenika asked, unaware of the drama that was associated with whatever relationship you and Reggie had. It was a stretch to say you even had one.

You and Reggie gave him a bitter “Yes.”

Mr. Milenika, never one who was ever good at differentiating bitterness and normal answers, beamed at the two.

“Good, because even though this is a math class, I will make you work with your partner quite often. So I suggest you get to know whoever is sitting next to you.” Your body stiffened. As if it couldn’t get any worse, Mr. Milenka never failed to disappoint.

Mr. Milenika continued on, explaining the rest of the plan for the class, but you seemed unable to concentrate, entirely focused on the boy who was now sitting next to you. With his stupid face and stupidly strong cologne, you couldn’t focus at all on whatever was on the board. It was as though you were in a haze, and all you could think about was him.

It had been years since you’d last spoken, not to mention you barely saw him in the halls anymore. He was notorious for skipping class to go rehearse with his so-called band while you were quite the opposite. Never missing a day, no matter what it took.

“Never thought you were one for staring,” he whispered under his breath and you scoffed.

“Oh so we don’t talk for seven years and you think now’s a good time to start?”

“Yeah, I do, cause then I could tell you how stupid those shoes look,”

“I’m literally just wearing converse, you are too Reginald,” you spat.

“Shut up!” he said, raising his voice slightly.

“You first!” you said, voice becoming louder. Was it a childish comeback? Perhaps, but you weren’t one to back down, no matter how stupid your comebacks were.

Now the whole class was listening, even Mr. Milenika had stopped teaching to observe what was going on with his students and just as he was about to intervene it seemed the debate had gotten worse.

“Me? shut up? You’re the one who was always bossing me around and telling me what to do! I could never get in a word with you!” Reggie snapped back.

“That’s because you were too thick-skulled to listen to anything I had to say!” you hissed, not realizing the audience you had. “Who knows Flicka maybe if you had you wouldn’t have failed this class last term!”

“That was uncalled for!” Reggie exclaimed, now standing from his chair. “And it’s not my fault the tutor bailed on me because it was a conflict of interest. This isn’t Judge Judy (Y/N)! If anything it’s your fault!”

“You manipulative little asshole!”

“Suck up!”

“Motherf-,”

“That’s enough!” Mr. Milenika yelled over both of you, causing you to shrink and turn to look at the very angry teacher. “Never in my years of teaching have I seen such barbaric behaviour! That’s two months' detention. Both of you! Now go to Mrs. Hillside’s office, immediately.”

Reggie angrily grabbed his bag and slung it over his shoulder, kicking a stray chair on his way out while you followed close behind in a much quieter fashion.

You had no words as you entered the principal’s office, sitting across from her desk while Reggie took the seat next to yours.

It was your first day back from the holiday. Your first day back and you finally had a conversation with your childhood best friend in seven years and got two months of detention with said childhood best friend. Your heart ached at the thought of the big flaw printed on your record. You only had Reggie to blame.

Purposefully, you shuffled away from him and he rolled his eyes as Mrs. Hillside finished her phone conversation with Mr. Milenika.

“Disrupting a class?” The woman exclaimed. “Foul language? Damaging school property?” Your face burned at each accusation.

Mrs. Hillside glared at you. “Ms.(L/N),” she addressed with a frown. “I did not expect such reckless and irresponsible behaviour from a promising student like you. I’m greatly disappointed.”

Tears threatened to fall from your eyes. “Please don’t make it go on my record,” you whimpered, your voice cracking.

The woman pressed her lips together. “You’re lucky this is your first detention, Ms.(L/N).” You released the breath you had no idea you were holding.

“Kiss ass,” Reggie muttered.

You narrowed your eyes at the boy, prepared to shoot back another comeback when your principal had something far better.

“I find that rich from you, Mr. Peters,” she laughed humorlessly. “Remind me, how many detentions did you have last term?” The boy’s cheek flushed, instantly shutting his mouth. You held back a laugh as to not get a snapback of your own from the teacher. “Now as much as this is infuriating, you both do have a class that I believe would be in your best interest not to miss. So we’ll draw up a schedule for these two months of detention and then you can return to your class in an orderly fashion. You understand?”

“Yes ma’am,” you nodded and Reggie just shrugged, if he blew this for you, well let’s just say there wouldn’t be any evidence of the crime.

“So let’s make this three days a week for two months. Thursday, Friday and Saturday and the hours will vary from time to time depending on the tasks you need to complete.”

“Three times a week?” Reggie exclaimed. “Mrs. Hillside, I have band practice-”

“And I’m losing my patience,” she cut him off. “Now go back to class before I make it four detentions a week.”

You squeaked a quiet “Thank you” before picking up your things and leaving the principal’s office. Speeding down the hallways, you didn’t hear Reggie catching up close behind you. When you saw a blur of black and red in the corner of your eye, you fought the urge to turn your head.

“Stupid Reggie Peters,” you muttered under your breath. “Stupid algebra class. Stupid Mr. Milenka and his stupid detention. Stupid-”

“Are you talking to me, Cookie?” Reggie spoke up, making you jump in surprise. By that time, you were already at the door of your algebra class.

You pressed your binder close to your chest, shooting the boy a pointed glare. “I hate you,” you said, opening the door just enough for you to slip through and slam in Reggie’s face.

You didn’t dare speak when you returned back to class, not wanting to try your luck and possibly extend your already long detention.

Reggie seemed to be thinking the same thing, possibly except he didn’t have his record on the line it was that stupid band practice of his. If he had spent as much time studying as he did practicing maybe you wouldn’t be in this situation because he would have passed the class in the first place.

You knew that you’d need to spend time catching up tonight so you didn’t even bother paying attention to the lesson. Anger bubbled in your chest as you mindlessly wrote notes for the class, not processing anything at all. Occasionally, you would notice a pair of blue-green eyes staring at you, only for them to turn back to the board each time you would look back.

You couldn’t even look each other in the eye. How were you supposed to last two months of detention with him?

Finally, the bell rang and allowed you to escape the confinement that was the loud stares of your classmates as you headed to your first assigned detention. Cleaning up the backroom of the library.

Reaching the library, you were met with the librarian, Mr. Mallard. The old man was hunched over a box filled with books, his glasses sliding down the bridge of his nose. It seemed as though he didn’t realize you were right behind him, so you awkwardly cleared your throat.

Mr. Mallard jumped, turned around to see you nervously waving at him. “Oh, Ms. (L/N), I didn’t see you there.” You waved his comment off.

“Not a problem,” you said with a kind smile. You mentally let out a sigh of relief. Good thing Mr. Mallard was nicer than the rest of the teachers here.

“I was just listening to music,” he explained, nodding at the radio playing soft music. He looked back at you. “You know I used to be a dancer back in my day? Now, I got this bad back, so I’m stuck here with you rascals.” You laughed at the man as he tried to snap his fingers and sway his hips to the music. “Ah, I got too carried away, sorry, dear. Now I must be getting old because I could have sworn there were supposed to be two of you here with me.”

You nodded, looking around for the boy in a leather jacket and red flannel, but came up empty. “He must be running late,” you told him.

Mr. Mallard frowned. “Well, I guess we can wait for him,” he settled, sitting down on his desk chair. “Feel free to take a seat over there until he comes in.”

Reggie came in a few minutes later, tossing his bag onto one of the chairs and placing his bass guitar on the table.

“The usual Mr. Mallard?” Reggie asked and the older man gave him a nod. It seemed Reggie had become familiar with the library as you had, just in a different way. “Well what are you waiting for?” he looked at you unimpressed. “The faster we start the faster we leave.”

You didn’t say a word, only followed him into the back room where you’d be organizing some old books, boxes and trophies

You stepped into the room, squinting at the shadows of assorted boxes. It was completely dark.

“Well, come on, Cookie,” Reggie said, giving you a shove. “We don’t have all day.”

You took in a shaky breath. “It’s dark,” you pointed out.

Reggie rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I think we’ve established that,” he said. “Let’s just find the light switch and start cleaning.”

You nodded, blindly searching along the walls for that damn switch. Not noticing the small box on the floor, you kicked it aside, spilling all sorts of books onto the floor. You squeaked in fear, grabbing the first thing in sight. Of course, that had to be Reggie’s hand.

You whipped your head around, face red in embarrassment. Lucky for you the darkness of the room prevented him from seeing that. “Sorry,” you muttered.

Reggie scoffed at you. “Still scared of the dark?” he asked in a teasing voice.

“Still sleep with that horse plushie of yours?” you shot back.

Reggie glared at you but didn’t say anything else. Without letting go of your hand he flicked on the switch and the room filled with a dim orange hue.

“You can let go now,” you said, trying to shimmy your hand away from his, only prompting him to grip harder.

“What are you scared of me now?” he asked with a smirk and you scowled, ripping your hand away from his.

“Let’s just clean, like you said, the faster we get this done the faster we can go home.”

The room was silent aside from the noises of books falling against the floor, making a quiet thud. You made a small area of your own in the back of the room, a stack of boxes hiding your view of Reggie. But from the lack of noises made in his part of the room, you could tell he wasn’t doing anything productive.

You poked your head out of your small space, frowning at the boy. He was sitting on the floor, slouching as he scribbled on a dusty piece of paper.

“Hey!” you called out, throwing an old yearbook in his direction.

Reggie barely ducked in time, sitting up and turning in your area. “What the hell?” he yelled.

“We’re supposed to be working on cleaning this room!” you snapped. “You aren’t doing shit, Flicka.”

“I did clean,” he muttered. “I just had an idea for the band-”

“That stupid band! Why can’t you just stop for once in your life and focus on what’s in front of you,” you scowled, frustrated that even now you were the one stuck doing all the work. Seemed like maybe things hadn’t changed much from seven years ago.

“Maybe if you loosened a screw or two we wouldn’t need to have this conversation,”

“Just shut up Reginald, you have no idea what it means to take responsibility for something. You haven’t changed and you never will.”

Reggie was about to come back with a retort when the door to the backroom swung open and Mr. Mallard came in with a smile on his face.

“Could I get you kids some snacks?” he asked kindly.

“Always, you’re the man Mr. M.” Reggie grinned, completely ignoring you and giving the librarian a high five from where he sat on the ground.

“I’m good Mr. Mallard,” you shook your head and he left you both with a nod of his head and promised to be back with some assortment of fruits and such.

After your first detention, it was safe to say that all hope of fixing your friendship with Reggie went down the drain. It seemed as though every hour you spent with him gave you all the more reasons to throttle him and be glad he stopped talking to you back in middle school.

—

Detentions became just another regular part of your week, integrated with your studying and your part-time job at the cafe. So you were more than happy to take a minute and walk back home where you could take a minute to rest.

Unfortunately, the universe had other plans.

“Reggie!” a voice yelled. You took a deep breath as you tried to make yourself invisible. It was his friends, Luke, Alex, and Bobby. The friends he left you for.

Reggie’s face lit up as he walked past you, running over to his friends. “Hey guys!” he said with a toothy grin. “What are you doing here?”

Luke shrugged his shoulders. “We thought we might as well give you a ride to practice since we were already around here for lunch,” he explained nonchalantly.

Bobby sent his friend a glare. “You mean I gave you a ride,” he corrected, gesturing to the keys in his hand.”

Luke waved his comment off. “Details. Oh, who’s that?” Luke asked pointing over to you and you tried to pick up your pace before he eventually made his way to you.

“That’s just (Y/N),” Reggie shrugged. “We have detention together.” Luke approached you with an overexcited pep in his step. You tried to back away as subtly as possible, but you were stopped by a wall.

“You’re adorable!” he grinned, throwing an arm around your shoulder while you looked at him in a sort of odd confusion. “Your face is so cute and pink, kind of like a bunny! You know, growing up I had this bunny for a pet named Carrot. We’re adopting you, right boys?”

You ducked under his arm, trying to stay as polite as possible. “Oh, I’d love to be your friend and all,” you began nervously. “But um...I just have things to do and-”

“We’re. Adopting. You,” Luke said in a sickly sweet but firm voice. “Right boys?”

As you tried to slip out of his grasp and walk away, Alex, who was also coincidentally your lab partner, called out from the van.

“Hey (N/N), you need a ride?”

“No thanks! I’m fine walking,” you called back, but Luke didn’t want to take no for an answer. He ran up in front of you and scooped you in his arms, throwing you over his shoulder causing you to shriek in surprise.

“We’re taking you with us! Who knows what kind of dangerous types are wandering around LA.”

“At the moment I would think you’re one of them!” you exclaimed, squirming to have him put you down, before finally giving up when he tossed you in the van. “Could this constitute a kidnapping? I feel like it’s a kidnapping. Can I call the police?”

Reggie followed close behind the two of you, clearly not liking this at all. He had already spent enough time with you in detention. Now you’re with his friends? He took the backseat, right behind you. “Dude, come on,” Reggie said as Luke fastened your seatbelt before patting the top of your head. You shot the guitarist a glare. “I really don’t want to be arrested for kidnapping. Especially since it’s her. Lord knows she’ll manage to pin the charges on me.”

Luke rolled his eyes. “Nonsense,” he said. “We’re not kidnapping her. We’re making friends!”

“That’s not how making friends works, Patterson!” you yelled as he slid the van door closed.

While they were making their way to your house Luke seemed to glance at the time on the dash and gasped.

“Shit! Guys turn around we’re gonna be late for practice!”

“Practice, you said you were taking me home!” you exclaimed. “This is actually a kidnapping now! Flicka your friends suck!”

“Sorry Lady Bunny,” Luke shrugged and you whined.

Reggie groaned and banged his head on the seat in front of him while Bobby took a definitely illegal u-turn to go where they normally had their rehearsals.

The car stopped in front of a fairly nice house with a big studio. The boys filed out, leaving you grumbling in the back seat. Luke opened the door, bowing dramatically.

“Lady Bunny,” Luke said, reaching his hand out to you.

You scowled at the boy, crossing your arms on your chest. “I want to go home,” you muttered.

“No can do, Lady Bunny,” Luke said with a shrug of his shoulders. “We have practice to do.”

“Then I’ll walk home,” you whined.

Luke laughed at your frustrated face. “Can’t let you do that either,” he told you. “Besides, you’re too little and innocent to brave the world on your own.” Luke reached for your cheek, patting it softly until you turned your head and bit his finger. “Ouch!”

“Yeah, bunnies bite, dick head. This is holding an innocent party against their will and you will do jail time,”

“(N/N), just stick around this once, I’ll make sure you get home later,” Alex offered and you slouched in your seat and mumbled a “Fine,”

Alex patted your back and led you into the large studio where there was a girl with frizzy brown curly hair, sitting on a couch.

“Finally! What took you guys so long!” she sighed and stood up.

“We adopted a bunny, Rose!” Luke grinned and hugged you from behind tucking your chin in his shoulder. You rolled your eyes and mouthed help me, to the girl and she scrunched her nose as if to say, ‘sorry honey there isn’t anything I can do.’

Luke pulled you to the couch and sat you down. “Now you stay there while we practice, okay bunny?” he said, patting your head.

“If you’re good we might give you snacks,” Bobby added from behind Luke, snickering under his breath.

Rose shot both boys a pointed look. “Cut that out, you two,” she ordered. Rose sat next to you, patting your knee. “Can I get you anything? Water? A snack? You don’t have to do a flip for treats or whatever.”

You laughed in response, nervously playing with the hem of your sweater. “I’m fine, thank you,” you responded politely. “If anything I just want a ride home.”

Rose frowned, leaning against the pillow cushions. “I’d give you a ride but my sister took the car for today,” she explained apologetically. Rose could sense the awkward tension, and wanted to break the ice. “So which one of them is your boyfriend?”

You choked on air, not expecting her question. For once, you were thankful the band was blasting music. “I’m sorry?” you coughed, causing Rose to reach over to grab a water bottle from the table and offer it to you. You took a big gulp, sighing. “What made you think that?”

Rose hummed as she thought of her answer. “Well, you’re way too nervous around me,” she began. “And the boys all keep on looking at you. Alex is not your boyfriend because he’s currently talking to this guy in my English class. Bobby...definitely isn’t your type, now that I look at you. I considered Luke for a moment but he’s way too dedicated to music to date anyone but his six-string, you also just seemed way too annoyed by him, but what’s new. And now that leaves Reggie.” she looked over at the boy playing the bass. Reggie, who apparently was watching the two of you talk, quickly ducked his head, his cheeks visibly red. “You two have history, don’t you?”

You froze, eyes widening. “How did you-”

“I think you forgot we were in the same homeroom since fourth grade,” she laughed. “You and Reggie, you guys were glued at the hip. Don’t you have nicknames for each other or something?”

“I-I guess,” you shrugged, it wasn’t really something you used as a term of endearment anymore, but it was still there. “He was Flicka and I was Cookie,”

“Did you date?” she asked curiously, leaning in closer.

“No,” you shook your head. “Just friends. Used to be.” you corrected and Rose frowned, but before she could ask another question you stopped her. “If I have to sit here and wait for Alex to take me home you think we could talk about something else?”

“Sure,” Rose nodded, “Well in that case I think you should come around here more often,”

“What do you mean?” you nervously chuckled.

“I don’t know, I just think we’d be pretty good friends,” she said with a shrug of her shoulders.

You leaned your head on her shoulder, smiling at the warm feeling bubbling inside you. “Yeah,” you agreed in a quiet voice. “I’m starting to think so, too.”

—

“And then he told me I was annoying!” you hissed, angrily scribbling the data of your experiment onto your notebook. “Can you believe that? Him!”

Alex anxiously watched you as you reached for a pipette, squeezing the poor thing like it stole your money. “Really?” Alex only said in a shaky voice.

You nodded furiously, taking the indicator, not even caring to count out your drops and just pouring the purple liquid haphazardly into the Erlenmeyer flask.

“He’s-He’s just a… argh! I can’t stand him!” you waved your hands almost knocking over the whole buret and ring stand with a very strong molarity composition of hydrochloric acid in it causing Alex to let out a strangled yelp from the back of his throat.

“C-can you please at least stay ten feet away from the table?” he requested. “You’re going to either break something or send me to the hospital with an acid burn and I really would prefer if that didn’t happen.”

You placed your materials down, glaring at the blond boy. “What are you talking about?” you snapped, not meaning to take your anger out on your friend (and chemistry experiment, at that).

Alex placed his hands up in the air in defence. “Just-” he swallowed loudly, trying to think of the right words. “Maybe take a deep breath? I know Reggie gets you all angry and stuff, but please don’t put our lives and chemistry grade on the line.”

“Makes me mad is a fucking understatement,” you grumbled.

“Okay, we can start there,” Alex began, slowly moving the materials far away from you. “I think it’s reasonable and incredibly understandable that you dislike him. But do you really hate him?”

You scowled. “Yes, Alexander,” you said in a scarily calm voice. “As a matter of fact, I do. He’s a fucking pain in my ass and can go fuck himself for all I care. He’s rude, inconsiderate, and selfish beyond belief.”

“And why do you think that?”

“Alex, you’re not my therapist, stop acting like you have every right to be in my business when you don’t know a single thing about me!”

Alex didn’t respond to that comment, fearing what you might say next. You paused, noticing Alex’s uneasiness. “I’m sorry,” you only mumbled.

He nodded wordlessly, gently placing his hand over yours. “Don’t worry about it, (N/N),” he reassured you.

Silence followed, aside from the quiet mumbling of instructions for the experiment. Minutes in, you finally decided to break the silence.

“Because he left me,” you whispered in a broken voice.

Alex raised an eyebrow. “I’m sorry?” he said, genuinely not hearing you.

You sighed, placing your pencil and notebook down. “He left me for your stupid band. He got friends and I got nothing,” you explained further. You removed your glasses, wiping away a stray tear. “I probably shouldn’t even be mad at him, at this point. He’s moved on...and got popular and actually has something going on for himself. And me?” You laughed humorlessly at yourself. “I work a job to help mom and dad pay the bills and work my ass off so I can go to school and make a life for myself. No one told me trying for success would be so lonely.”

“(Y/N),” Alex said, frowning slightly.

You shook your head. “But he’s happy, isn’t he?” you asked. “Reggie. He’s smiling wider than I’ve ever seen before. Singing and playing the bass, dancing his heart out on stage. He never used to do those things with me.” You looked away from Alex, unable to take his pitiful gaze. “He’s changed while I’ve stayed the same. I’m stuck here, still moping about my past. Maybe he’s right. Maybe he is better off without me.”

“He’s not,” Alex said without even thinking.

“How could you say that? He’s clearly happier. It’s not like you can pretend you don’t see that,”

“But he’s not. He just replaced what he had, his friendship with you, with music. I might not know him as well as you, but it’s his coping mechanism. It hides all the bad things in life that he chooses not to deal with,”

“Reggie’s not like that,” you shook your head, refusing to believe what Alex was saying.

Alex, starting to get frustrated, slammed his hands on the edge of the table. “Dammit, (Y/N) can you just realize for one second that you don’t hate Reggie and that Reggie doesn’t hate you?” Your mouth remained closed, so Alex took it as an opportunity to push further. “You two talk my ears off about each other more than you realize. It’s always “Reggie did this” or “(Y/N) did that” can’t you two get your heads out of your asses and see that?”

“C-Can you take care of this, I’m just going to run to the washroom,” you murmured, not waiting for a response. You took off your goggles, gloves and lab coat, making your way to the courtyard, contrary to where you said you were going. Pulling your MP3 player out of your pocket you threw on a pair of battered headphones and turned the volume all the way up clicking on the familiar track of Fast Car maybe you couldn’t run away physically, but right now, your heart sure needed a break.

—

“You two will be with Mrs. Leona today in the dance room,”

“What does she need?” you asked with much confusion. Normally Saturdays were used for either sitting in silence or cleaning up some area of the school.

“She needs help choreographing the dance she’s going to use for the sophomore class next semester,” Mrs. Hillside explained. “Now go on, get dressed and meet her in the dance room.”

You and Reggie walked away to the locker rooms. A scowl was plastered on the boy’s face. “These detentions are getting more and more ridiculous each day,” he muttered.

Scoffing, you crossed your arms on your chest. “Well, that’s something we both can agree on.”

You parted ways for a short time to get changed before meeting back up again in the dance room where Mrs. Leona was already setting up and waiting for you both.

“Perfect! So glad you guys could make it,” she grinned.

“We have detention,” Reggie noted. “Not really much of a choice,” You shot the boy a glare, elbowing him roughly in the ribs.

“Right,” she chuckled. “Well, I’m working on a routine for my sophomores. Apparently, they think we’re doing the same thing over and over again so I’m going to give them something new for a change. I was thinking a partner assignment would work best.”

You and Reggie nodded as Mrs. Leona walked over to the stereo, popping in a CD and playing All That She Wants in the background on repeat while she would lead the stretches.

“Isn’t this song a little inappropriate to have sophomores dancing to? Or like even just to play in school?” you asked as you followed along.

Reggie rolled his eyes. “Of course that’s what you ask,” he muttered.

Mrs. Leona waved off your comment. “It’s fine,” she insisted. “It’s an upbeat song, and it’s “in,” so might as well give the kids a fun assignment.”

“Mrs. Leona, what kind of dance moves are you thinking?” Reggie asked curiously. “Because I’m not that good of a dancer and (Y/N) is practically so old she could break her hip by breathing.”

“I’m not old,” you snapped, crossing your arms on your chest.

“You sure act like it,” he shot back.

“You bit-”

“Enough talking!” Mrs. Leona cut you both off. “More dancing. Now I have a couple of ideas for you two, so make sure you’re really stretched out so you don’t pull something.”

You groaned, looking up at the ceiling. “What did I get myself into?”

—

“It’s a simple concept!” Mrs. Leona insisted after the millionth attempt. “You two are just so awkward with each other.”

You fought the urge to roll your eyes. “Can you just explain it again, please?” you requested.

Mrs. Leona sighed, standing up to show you the dance sequence. “Reggie, take her hand and bring it to your lips. Step away, and (Y/N) you pull him back. Then Reggie turn so that you and (Y/N) are facing each other. At that point, you grab him by the shirt while he takes your waist, then he twirls you and goes in to dip you. Simple enough!”

Simple to maybe a Rockette, but not to a bassist and an awkward bookworm.

“Let’s take it from there, okay guys?”

You grumbled to yourself, positioning yourself in front of the boy. “This is way too much,” you muttered, mostly to yourself.

“Just shut up and do what she says,” Reggie hissed. “I don’t want to be any closer to you than I have to.”

When the music started playing, you felt Reggie’s fingertips trace down your arm to your hand, unknowingly creating a trail of goosebumps. Weaving his fingers with yours, he brought your intertwined hands up to his face, his lips ever so gently grazing your hand.

On beat, Reggie started to walk away from you, only for you to pull him back. His eyes met yours as you brought your other hand to his chest, balling the fabric of his shirt in your fist. You watched as he dropped his hand to your waist before pulling away to twirl you. The moment he pulled you back into his chest, you saw his cheeks redden. You were so close, close enough to smell that stupidly distracting cologne of his. You knew Reggie was just as flustered. His hand was getting clammy in yours. Before you could even process it, he dipped you down, making you gasp in surprise.

You didn’t even notice the music had stopped. All that was on your mind at that moment was Reggie. His eyes flicked down to yours, and you could have sworn you saw a hint of a smile on his lips.

The loud clapping coming from Mrs. Leona had snapped you out of your trance. Immediately regaining his composure, Reggie loosened his grip on you. You fell to the ground, hitting your elbow upon impact.

“Ass,” you muttered, rubbing your elbow in pain.

“If you’re saying I’ve got a good one then I agree,” he smirked and you scoffed loudly.

Mrs. Leona walked up to the two of you. “That was probably the best dancing I’ve seen from the two of you all morning,” she applauded. “And for that, you can take a five-minute break,”

“Oh thank God,” you whispered and flopped onto the ground, trying to relax your muscles. You tried to pull one leg over the other, stretching it out, but unable to turn properly in order to pull the tension out of your muscle.

Your eyes were closed so you didn’t notice Reggie coming closer and kneeling toward you, placing a hand on your thigh and pushing it down for you, causing you to open your eyes and see him practically leaning over top of you.

“Ow! Fuck! Too much,” you hissed and he loosened his grip. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Helping you stretch, you’re ancient so I thought I might be able to lend a hand,”

“Get your hand off me,” you said seriously.

“What,” he grinned, lifting his hand higher and causing your breath to hitch and slap his hand away and sit up, scooching back.

“Fuck off Flicka,” you said, the words barely able to leave your mouth, throat turning dry.

“Only trying to help, Cookie,” he said, shrugging his shoulders. He looked over at your arm, seeing as you winced with every movement. “Does it hurt a lot?”

You cradled your elbow. “It’s whatever,” you mumbled in response, unconsciously mimicking his answer.

Reggie scoffed, leaning back on his hands. “Say what you want, Cookie, but I know when you’re lying. You can’t pretend around me.” You paused, vaguely remembering that night with the radio.

“I said I’m fine, Reggie,” you insisted firmly.

“Just let me see it,” he asked, crawling over to you, prompting you to scoot all the way back until you hit the mirror. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he frowned.

“That’s what you said seven years ago but I’ve learnt the hard way to take promises from you with a grain of salt,” you said venomously.

Reggie paused, moving back to his spot, far away from you. “Fine,” he simply said. “But don’t act like you were the only victim. I got hurt, too.”

You opened your mouth to respond when Mrs. Leona walked back into the room with three water bottles. “Well, I’m back. Are you two rested enough to continue?”

You shook your head. “Mrs. Leona, um I think it’s probably time we head back to Mrs. Hillside’s office,” you suggested. “It’s erm, late and I hurt my elbow, so…”

Mrs. Leona nodded understandingly. “Yes, of course, I forgot how much time had passed. You two work so well together, I might as well keep you guys in my class!” You laughed nervously before grabbing your things and waving goodbye. You didn’t bother looking back at Reggie. There was nothing left to say.

[heartofsnark]

I Wanna Ruin Our Friendship (Misty/Fem!V/Jackie) Smut

Notes: Sooooo, this isn't really canon to my V's like story, as far as like her actual series goes (which you should look at if you want plot with your porn ayyy) but more of a fun what if, that I was possessed to write at 8am and am now publishing at 2:40 am cause I've lost control of my life and wanna see these three fuck. 

Warnings: Vaginal sex, cunnilingus, creampies, unprotected sex (fucking wrap it before you tap it, fucking hell Jackie) blowjobs, oral sex, licking cum out of a vagina, just porn, so much porn.

Summary: V has a problem, many problems, but we're focusing on the one for today. Her, Jackie, and Misty are friends; really good friends. Completely platonic and chill friends. They're her best friends in fact, the closest friends she's ever had. So, why does she want to fuck them so bad? 

*Also, the V in this is my own, she is a cis woman and also deaf. 

V has a problem, multiple problems if she’s being honest, but one in particular has been overwhelming her as of late. She doesn’t do romantic love, she’s told herself time and time again. A misguided crush as a child and a ‘what could have been’ when she was a slightly older child. Times when she thought she was in love or could have ended up there, but her hopes were dashed with cruel words or chance. And every other encounter since has been either platonic or just sex. You can be V’s friend or you can fuck her; no room for romance or muddy waters in the merc’s heart. 

At least that’s what she says. 

At least that’s what she thought. 

Then she met Jackie and Misty. The Heywood boy who took her in. His sweetheart of a girlfriend. Her feelings are platonic, she tells herself. Friends, practically family, a platonic sort of love she’s so rarely found. And that’s more than enough, her feelings and desires don’t go  beyond that, she tells herself. 

She watches Jackie workout at times, meant to spot him.  His muscle corded arms strained as he lifts weights, veins prominent and sweat tracing patterns down his skin. Freckled face flushed with exertion and V’s mouth dry at the thought of tasting the salt of his skin. 

But, they’re friends. 

V will catch herself staring at Misty from time to time when she visits the older woman’s Esoterica shop, getting tarot card readings and helping sort any new inventory that’s come in. Never missing the way Misty’s skirt rides up her thighs, showing a peek of soft thighs wrapped in fishnet stockings. 

But they’re friends. 

It's purely platonic when Jackie ruffles her hair, a big warm hand the size of her head, a grin wider than a canyon and sun glinting off his gold cyberware. The butterflies in her stomach and the flush on her face mean nothing more, they’re friends. 

And it's strictly platonic when she and Misty bleach their hair together, legs practically entangled when they wait on the couch together. The way V’s breath catches at the press of skin and the sound of Misty laughing is just…  They’re friends, really, just friends. 

They’re just friends, her mind screams when she’s sharing a bed with Jackie, pressed close to his warm body and inhaling the smell of his cologne. His large arms wrapped around her and thoughts flickering to if he’d let his hands move lover. 

Just friends, she tries to beat into her own head, when she’s reminded of Misty’s hands gently holding her bruised chin after a bad gig. Close enough V could nearly kiss her black painted lips, what would it feel like having dark lipstick smeared across her neck? 

They’re just friends, but sometimes she wishes they weren’t; she tells herself in shame after a night spent thinking of them in Jackie’s bed, him out on a date with Misty. V’s hand wet with her own slick after hours imagining she was pressed between them, the smell of her sweat sticking to his sheets. 

Moving out will help, she decides. A little more space, a few more boundaries will keep those lines from blurring so easily. Her friends, just friends, are there to help her move in and set up her new megabuilding apartment. 

Once everything is settled in, V orders them all takeout for dinner, the least she can do. The trio sits on the floor around her table, the holoprojector showing advertisements above their head. The curved built-in sofa is behind them, but its too far from the table to comfortably eat, plus it doesn’t afford the comfort of being closer to each other. Misty and Jackie sitting, nearly on top of each other across the table from V.  Trying not to stare at the way his fingers toy with Misty’s sweater. 

“Can’t believe you’re actually moving out, chica,” Jackie comments after swallowing down a mouthful of dumplings. She swears she hears a hint of melancholy in his voice, but maybe it’s wishful thinking. 

“Can’t mooch off of you and Mama Welles forever,” she signs and talks, comfortable talking when it's just them. The words flow easier, her throat less raw and blocked off. 

“For the billionth time, you ain’t no fuckin’ mooch, V.” 

“So you say.” V rolls her eyes and takes a drink of Nicola. 

“Personally, I’m happy about it,” Misty states and that soda suddenly feels like cement in V’s throat. One of her worst fears potentially realized, that Misty or Jackie see her as an interloper, an intrusion on their relationship. That Misty is sick of some random woman sleeping in her boyfriend’s bed.

“Why’s that?” Jackie asks, half of an eggroll in his mouth.

“‘Cause now I don’t have to sneak around Mama Welles to see V, too.” 

“Oh,” V swallows hard, feeling the air return to her lungs, “that’s right, I’ll never understand that whole thing. ”  

Misty is one of the sweetest people in the world and V’s always considered Jackie’s mom just as nice, but for some reason the two can’t seem to see eye to eye. Mama Welles hung up on Jackie getting back with one of his ex’s. 

“She’ll come around eventually, Ma just takes a while to warm up to people.” 

“Me, not people, just me. Pretty sure, she’d jump for joy if you and V were dating,” 

V chokes on her noodles, heat flushing up to her hairline at the thought. Not helping, Misty, not helping. Misty laughs at her, V trying to recompose herself. 

“Why would you say that?” 

“Uh, ‘cause it’s true!~ She adores you, V. Not that I can blame her.” 

“Pfft,” V rolls her eyes, scoffing, “trust me, she’d turn on me in a heartbeat if I tried to steal away her precious baby boy.”  

V teases Jackie, reaching across the table to squeeze at his cheek, he smacks away her hand, grinning and a flush of red across his cheeks. 

“Fuck off!” 

“True, she is so protective of her precious, Jaquito~” Misty joins in, giggling and scratching her nails along his chin. 

“I didn’t sign up to be harassed today,” he pretends to complain. 

“No sign up necessary, my harassment comes free and unsolicited~,” V reaches for an eggroll and accidentally knocks an open can of cola into Jackie’s lap, “shit!” 

“Ah, fuck,” Jackie flinches a bit as cold soda hits his crotch. 

“Sorry, sorry,” V blurts out, grabbing up napkins and starting to reach over the table to dry him. 

“I, uh, got it! It’s fine!” Jackie quickly stops her and she realizes she was a fraction of an inch away from trying to rub his dick dry. 

“Uh, right, sorry, I, sorry.” V falls back on her but, trying to pretend she isn’t embarrassed by the instinct. 

“Its okay, V,” Jackie insists, trying to dry his pants, “what’s a wet sticky dick between friends?”

“Jackie!” V yells at his innuendo, the audacity of this man, meanwhile Misty is giggling behind her hand.

“It shouldn’t stain,” Misty says when she stops giggling, rubbing Jackie’s shoulder, “I think you left some clothes at my place, you can change there, so you don’t have to wear wet pants all the way back to Heywood.”

And that’s right, they’ll be leaving at some point. She’ll be having her first night alone in her apartment, just her…  She taps her fingers against the floor, staring at a seam on her couch. She’s an adult, she reminds herself, she can handle being alone. 

“Yeah, we’ll go ahead and get out of your hair, V.” 

“Yeah, yeah, appreciate the help,” she hopes her signing and voice don’t give away her discomfort. Then there’s a gentle hand over her own, neatly painted black fingernails on her skin, warm and smooth skin compared to V’s more calloused flesh. Misty having shifted closer to the side of the table, so she could reach V. 

“Unless, you don’t want us to go?” 

“Uhh,” what kind of adult can’t be alone in her own apartment, V admonishes herself, “I-” 

“You still have trouble sleeping alone, right?” Jackie asks, raising an eyebrow, eyes concerned. 

“I mean… I don’t expect anyone to coddle me, I-” 

“It's not coddling, V, we care about you. Adjusting is hard and if us sleeping here tonight helps, we’re happy to do it.” 

“You know we’d do anything for you, chica.” 

“Uh, okay then, I can sleep on the couch and you two can have the bed-” 

“Pffft,” Jackie scoffs, “don’t be stupid,  we’ve been sharing a bed half that size for the past three months, V. The last thing I expect is for you to sleep on the couch.” 

“Okay, if you’re both cool with it.” 

And that’s how she ends up in her new bed with her two friends. Misty wearing a set of V’s sleep clothes, the shorts and shirt riding up slightly on the older woman just a few inches taller than the merc. Jackie stripped down to just his boxer briefs and V is accustomed to that she reminds herself, her partner in crime, sleeping in his underwear next to her more times than she can count. But, lately everything feels...muddier. 

V faces the wall, on her side, Misty and Jackie cuddling behind her. They nearly pulled her between them, but she stopped them, insisting she sleep fine so long as there’s just someone near her. And that’s true, the warmth and knowledge that she’s not alone helps plenty, but more so she’s just not sure she would have survived the night pressed between them. Even like this… she struggles to sleep, feeling their bodies radiating warmth behind her.  She stares at the wall and tries to name stars, her go to trick for sleeping. 

Then there’s shifting movement behind her, the feeling of the bed shifting a bit, and Misty’s foot slightly nudging V’s ankle. The little merc twists around onto her other side to see what’s going on, if Misty or Jackie need something and her breath catches in her throat. 

Misty is pressed tight to Jackie’s chest, the couple spooning with her back to his front. His face is pressed into her neck, V can’t hear his face nor read his lip, but she can see them moving against Misty’s skin. Jackie’s large hands are toying with Misty’s body,  one hand down between her thighs and the other pushing her shirt up to grope her breast. Misty’s eyes are shut, head arched back just slightly, mouth slightly open as her boyfriend teases her. 

V can’t help but stare, face a sharp shade of crimson, at the sight of the shirt being pushed up to reveal the underside of Misty’s breast, the muscles in Jackie’s forearm tightening as he fingers her.  Its a lot to take in, the sight, the feelings; the knowledge that they’d do this just inches from V. Desire and heat build in her center, her cunt getting wet at watching her friends fool around, finding herself imagining what it’d be like to have Jackie’s thick calloused fingers pushing inside of her or how soft Misty’s breast would feel in her hand. Then Jackie pushes the shirt all the way up above Misty’s chest, plump breasts and stiffening nipples on full display. 

V shouldn’t be seeing this; shame and humiliation mix with her arousal. 

Friends. They’re friends, damn it!

The speed at which V turns away from the sight, sends her half into the wall; knee and hands hitting it. She can feel Misty and Jackie shooting up behind her, mattress shifting, V tries to burrow down into her pillow hoping the two will somehow be convinced she just moved in her sleep. But the hand rubbing over her shoulder tells her that’s not the case. She forces herself to sit up and face her friends, just friends… 

Misty and Jackie are sitting up more in the bed, Misty’s clothes back in place. Their faces are both flushed, Jackie isn’t making eye contact with V.  Misty hands V her hearing aid case, a gentle unspoken request for her to put them in so it’s easier to talk. And V doesn’t want to talk about it, doesn’t want to deal with this, doesn’t want to ruin this. But she can’t deny the soft look in Misty’s emerald green eyes, sliding her hearing aids in. 

“Sorry, chica…” Jackie awkwardly apologizes the second V can hear.

“Okay…night... ” Is all V can manage, hoping this will be the end of it, hoping she doesn’t have to confront everything swelling up inside of her. V reaches up to take out her hearing aids, intent on just quickly pulling them out and rolling back over, to pretend this never happened. 

Misty’s hand reaches her face first, cupping V’s chin and forcing the merc to make eye contact. Though her eyes do drift back and forth between Misty’s lips and eyes. The closeness makes it all the  more tempting to just kiss her… 

But Misty beats her to it, nothing but tender press of their lips together. And V never in a million years believed of the three that Misty would be the one to break first.  Yet here they are, a soft kiss that lasts all of a moment before Misty starts to pull away, a quick peck meant to test the waters, but V chases after it, capturing the older woman’s lips again.  Her kiss is a far cry from Misty’s, hungrier, deeper and anything but chaste as she pushes her tongue into the blonde’s mouth. 

“Shit,” Jackie curses, voice low and hungry as he watches his girlfriend and best friend makeout. V smiles into the kiss, finally breaking away. 

“We’re a pair of  Catholic school girl uniforms away from acting out Jackie’s favorite BD, aren’t we?” V can’t help but tease remembering a few… select pieces from her friends collection. 

“Hey!” 

V falls back against the bed laughing, that sort of tension and fear melting away. Misty and Jackie laugh too; the sound music to V’s ears, the merc suddenly thankful she kept the hearing aids in.  They kissed and the world didn’t end. There’s no irreparable damage and if they wanted maybe they could all leave it there, a weird exchange that ended in laughter. Nothing has to change. One kiss between friends, no big deal. 

Then Misty is climbing over her, moving to be on the other side of V, pressing against that side as Jackie moves in closer; placing her between them. 

“Hello, can I he-” she starts to tease, then Jackie’s lips are on hers. His large warm hand on her chin, keeping her in place as he pushes his tongue into her mouth. She works to meet his movement, to give as good as she gets, kissing him back with the same passing. A moan leaving the back of her throat and dying on Jackie’s tongue when he shifts the angle to kiss her deeper. She grabs his bicep, feeling his muscles to anchor herself. 

And, okay, it’s two kisses now. What’s two kisses between friends?

Jackie pulls away, pressing his forehead against hers, rubbing his thumb over her chin. 

“Been wanting to do that for a while, mija,” he admits tenderly. 

And that’s it, it's all too far gone and she’s done caring. 

“Need you, both of you,” V finally says it, puts the words out into the world and prepares herself for what comes next. 

Then Jackie pulls her shirt off over her head, leaving V’s breasts exposed, her nipple piercings glinting in the lowlight of the room.  Delicate fingers push past the waistband of V’s shorts, Misty finding and stroking V’s clit as Jackie dips his head to suck at the merc’s breast. She whimpers at the treatment, overwhelmed and squirming as the couple plays with her body. Slick coats Misty’s fingers and V’s thighs, the merc’s cunt clenching with every rub of her clit. Jackie’s tongue teases and licks at her piercing, he sucks at her breast, feeling her nipple stiffen on his tongue. Misty’s fingers slip lower, pushing inside of V. Its all too much, V’s pleasure building higher and higher inside of her. Jackie gives a little nip, not a true bite just the slight pressure of his teeth on her breast just as Misty adds a third finger. And it snaps, V crying out as she cums on Misty’s hand, 

Jackie pulls off of V’s breast and Misty pulls slick coated fingers out of her cunt, the merc panting. 

“Didn’t realize you were that sensitive, V,” Jackie teases, breath hot on her ear. 

“Shut up.” 

“It’s cute,” Misty assures her, kissing softly across V’s cheek and neck. 

“So, cute,” Jackie says, but his voice with that edge of condescension before he bites her neck. She whines but responds by rubbing a hand over his cock, grinning when he jumps. 

“Yeah, let's see how well you handle it,” she taunts, pushing him back flat against the bed as she straddles him. 

His hard cock rubs against her, her shorts and his boxers the only thing between them. She kisses across his chest. Tracing her tongue along his tattoos and freckles, sliding her hand between them to palm his dick, feeling the warmth of it through the fabric. She trails her kisses down, watching his head dip back against the pillow, cursing under his breath as she makes her way lower and lower down his torso and stomach. She pulls her mouth away when it hits fabric, as much as she’d love to settle between his legs and tease him through his boxers, She’s not about to forget about Misty. 

V pulls away to press closer to Jackie’s side, looking up to see Misty, staring at them, enraptured. The merc stretches over Jackie’s lap to catch the back of Misty’s head, tangling her fingers in the short layers of hair, bringing the older woman in for another kiss. She uses this to gently pull and encourage Misty over closer, until they’re both pressed tight against one side of Jackie’s legs, making out just above his erection. They break apart, with V giving a soft bite to Misty’s lower lip before hooking her fingers into the bottom of Misty’s shirt pulling it off over her head. She can’t help but get another eyeful of Misty’s chest, before turning her attention back to Jackie, intent on showing why having two people play with you tends to make a person more sensitive. 

V slips her fingers into the top of Jackie’s boxer briefs, starting to pull them down, Misty helping her as Jackie raises his hips for them. The girls quickly getting the boxers off; V swallows hard at the sight of his dick. He’s big, something she always figured considering he’s nearly a giant towering over both Misty and V.  Its flushed red at the head, thick with prominent veins, and leaking precum on his lower stomach. Misty and V get their tongues on him, making Jackie curse aloud. V lapping the head of his cock to taste his precum, teasing her tongue piercing along the flushed sensitive skin. Misty, tracing the underside, licking along the veins and shaft of his cock. 

V pulls away for a moment as Misty licks up Jackie’s cock. The merc watches as Misty takes the length of Jackie’s dick into mouth, inch after inch pushing past her kiss-swollen lips. V takes to licking the places where Misty’s mouth can reach, the part of his cock she can’t force down her throat without risk of gagging, V’s tongue chases after Misty’s mouth as she pulls up, tasting Misty’s spit on his cock, until she’s pulling off his dick with a pop. Before V can follow suit, taking her turn to feel his dick in her throat, he stops them. Large thick fingers tangling in bleached hair. 

“Stop, fuck, fuck, gonna-fuck,” he groans out, nearly choking on his words. 

“Aww, feeling sensitive?” V teases, biting at his thigh. 

“Not helping, V.” 

“I don’t think she was trying to help, Jackie,” Misty jokes, sharing a sly smile with V as they watch Jackie try to keep from blowing his load right there. Jackie reaches down and squeezes Misty’s ass, making her yelp at the sudden attention. 

“Wanna feel you, carina,” he tells Misty, teasing her cunt through her shorts.  

V helps Misty pull off her shorts, leaving her completely naked. The young merc can see the slick sticking to the inside of Misty’s inner thighs and all she wants to do is lap it up. But Jackie is already manhandling Misty, helping her move to straddle his lap, with her back towards him and facing V; reverse cowgirl style.  Misty puts her hands back on Jackie’s chest, leaning her weight back on him as he holds her hips, his fingers squeezing the soft plush flesh. 

Slowly, Jackie pulls Misty down on his cock, making her moan out as he fills her. He bounces Misty on his cock, fucking up into her. V watches agape, not sure where she wants to focus, from where the two meet, his cock pumping into Misty’s tight cunt. Or to Misty as a whole, the woman put on full display for V to watch as her breasts bounce with every thrust and she cries out with every slap of flesh hitting flesh. 

She settles for doing much more than just watching, V dipping her head between their thighs and licking where Jackie and Misty connect. Its a sloppy mess, trying to keep up with Jackie’s pace as he pound into Misty. V laps and licks at his cock where she can, tasting Misty’s slick on him, kissing where Misty’s cunt takes in Jackie’s cock. She sucks and teases Misty’s clit, her own cunt clenching at the way the added pleasure makes Misty scream out. V’s mouth and tongue are everywhere they can be, desperate and sloppy in her rush to taste the couple, to add to their pleasure. 

Misty grabs the back of V’s hair when she cums, pinning the merc in one spot as she screams out her release. V’s left to drool and keep her tongue out as Misty’s cunt and Jackie’s cock rub against her. She tastes the rush of Misty’s slick first, gushing and twitching as her pussy is overwhelmed.  Then V tastes the bitter salt of Jackie’s cum, him cursing as he fills Misty and then keeps cumming, thick white spilling out and dripping back down his cock. The couple still, both panting heavily and Misty relaxing, letting V’s hair go as the young merc continues to lick up the mess. Misty collapses, practically boneless laying on Jackie’s chest. 

Jackie gets his hands under her thighs and starts to bring them back, Misty whimpering as he’s able to hold her legs up, nearly bringing her knees to her chest. The shift in position causes his cock to slip out of her, his cum now spilling freely from Misty’s cunt, a wet messy show for V. 

“Clean her up for me, V?” He asks it as casually as he’d ask V to lend her car. And V is just as happy to oblige. 

V buries her tongue inside of Misty, moaning softly when Misty squeals at the feeling. Its a mess of Jackie’s cum and Misty’s, mingling on V’s tongue as she licks it up like she’s starved for it. Misty is a sensitive mess, being eaten out so soon after being fucked to pieces, but V doesn’t hold back; rubbing a thumb over the woman’s swollen clit while she laps up every drop of Jackie’s cum. There’s a shake in Misty’s thighs, instinct telling her to clench them shut, to trap V between her legs, but Jackie keeps her spread wide; only able to whimper and whine as the mess is licked up as her twitching wet clit is teased alongside every stroke of V’s tongue. 

With each lick V tastes less and less of Jackie’s mess, cleaning up the creampie he’d left inside of Misty. And she doesn’t know what it is that sends Misty over the edge, one too many rubs of V’s thumb over her clit or particularly deep lick, V desperate to truly swallow down every drop of seed. But something does and Misty’s sent into a second orgasm, trembling and gushing against V’s tongue, screaming out as the pleasure consumes her.  The merc slows down gently,steadily  easing Misty through the aftershocks, until she’s done trembling.  

Jackie lets go of Misty’s legs, letting her body relax as she gently moves to lay against his side. His cock is still half hard and there’s an itch inside of V that hasn’t quite been scratched, still wet and twitching between her thighs, the crotch of her thin shorts sticky with slick. But she doesn’t want to push it, she thinks as she goes to lay down on his other side. But, he has different ideas it seems, an idea catching in his mind as V’s in the midst of moving, on her hands and knees about to drop down onto the mattress. Despite his size he moves fast, grabbing at V’s hips and making her freeze, on his knees behind her as he pulls her ass back against his cock. She whines at the friction, as he grinds against her, quickly getting his cock fully hard again. Misty laying against the pillows next to them, satiated and content to watch the V and Jackie chase another orgasm. 

And he yanks her shorts down as far as he can without changing the position, exposing her slick needy cunt. 

“Fuck,” the low hungry curse sends a chill along V’s spine, the head of his cock leaving wet across her ass, before he rubs it over her sex. 

There's a part of her that thinks they shouldn’t, that this is the step too far, a line that can’t be uncrossed; as if she hadn’t just had her face buried in Misty’s pussy. But, she needs this and by the tight hold Jackie has on her hips, he does too. A line that needs to be crossed even if it can’t be undone. An experience that has to be had, just to know what it’s like. 

Then he’s sinking into her, pulling her back onto his cock, filling her. V’s eyes roll back, a silent cry on her tongue as she’s stretched and stuffed. Too much, too much; but exactly what she needs. Despite his size, he fills her easily, her body too needy to resist the push of him into her. He doesn’t give her time to adjust, not that she needs or truly wants it. They’re both at their limit, just needing this, to know what it’s like to be connected this way; to feel his cock pounding into her, to feel her cunt clenching around him. 

She lets him set the pace, too overwhelmed to do anything, whimpering as he brutally fucks her; pulling her back against him as he thrusts forward. Both too far gone and desperate for this to be softer. The skin slapping together, sound ringing out through the apartment, a wet squelch everytime he sinks inside of her. Jackie uses her like a toy, like a human sized fleshlight to chase his own end with. And she knows she means more than that, in the moment it feels good to just be used, to be manhandled and fucked apart, to be a pillow princess taking his dick however he sees fit to give it. Each thrust sending her spiraling deeper and deeper into her pleasure, fucked stupid and mindless, unable to think of anything but how it feels to be fucked by him. 

And that pleasure overwhelms quicker than she expects, bubbling over and orgasm hitting her before she even truly realized she was close. Mind going completely blank and throat raw as she screams out, cumming on his cock, toes clenching. And he fucks her through it, draws it out until he’s cursing under his breath and spilling inside of her. His second load, a little lighter than the creampie he left Misty with, but still thick and too much for V’s cunt to hold; the mess leaking down her thighs as she comes down from her high. 

She whimpers when he pulls out, suddenly empty and more of his cum spilling from inside of her. Jackie collapses, in the middle of the bed, between Misty and V, sweaty and panting. V can’t help but laugh, throwing her shorts completely off, as Misty curls up close to his side. Jackie wraps an arm around Misty’s  hip. His other hand skims V’s back as she leans over them to take her hearing aids out, putting them on the side table, then she’s pulled down to lay against his chest. V nuzzles in, looking at Misty’s face across the expanse of Jackie’s chest, V being held just as tightly to his side. Misty’s hand is on his chest and V reaches up, intertwining their fingers, earning her a soft serene smile from the older woman. 

And there’s a lot that’ll need to be talked about. So many questions as to what this all means; what does V even want this to mean? A one time thing they don’t talk about, don’t deal with. A friendship ruiner, the start of something… new.  So many possibilities and each one brings with it a different sort of anxiety. But for now, she’s content to sleep curled up under the sheets with her friends. 

[prurientpuddlejumper]

You’re a Mean One, Mr. Kneef (Part 2)

<- Part 1 | Part 3 ->

For @thatesqcrush​’s Naughty or Nice Holiday Bingo! Filling the Fake Relationship When Visiting Family square. 

Bryan Kneef x Female Reader

Warnings: Language. Holiday fluff. Bryan being the worst... but also hot? Horrible pet names. Nothing nsfw happens this chapter except Bryan’s mouth. 

2,900 words

The bluish LED headlights of Bryan Kneef’s BMW blinded other drivers as they cut through the dark on the drive to his parents’ suburban house. You ascertained from the hands-free call he was making the family hadn’t started dinner yet. Christmas was close to the winter solstice, so it wasn’t as late as the sky suggested, although you’d heard a hungry child screaming impatiently about having to wait for Uncle Bry.

“Uncle Bry,” you teased as the call ended.

He chuckled. “That would be my brother’s kid, Finn. My brother’s name is Timothy. The CEO of LogicFinance. You will say you’ve ‘heard so much about them.’ Let’s review.”

“Jesus.”

Sitting next to Bryan while his attention wasn’t on you, you lost yourself noticing things. The clean smell of his cologne. How sexy he looked—in a rich douchey way—in his tailored suit and expensive car. His long fingers wrapped around the steering wheel. That beard that made you want to scream, “Daddy!”

You could almost forget he was the asshole who held every paralegal at STR Laurie hostage with busywork unless you pretended to be the woman who dumped him. 

Until he started barking at you to memorize facts about his life.

“First, what do I have to know about this woman I’m supposed to be?”

He stared straight ahead at the road. “Her name is Sydney. So you’re Syd from now on.”

“Oh joy. Being called your ex’s name all night won’t be weird or anything.”

“You were the one who wanted to get out of work.”

“Whatever. I bet you already forgot my real name, anyway.”

He didn’t contradict you. The engine roared to life as he changed lanes before signaling and cut off the SUV he’d been tailgating for the last mile.

Your arms crossed over your chest. “How much did you tell your family about Sydney? I hope you didn’t send them any pictures.”

“Not much, and obviously not. I’m not stupid.”

“Just pathetic.”

He scowled. Before he could think of a searing response to take back control of the conversation, you asked another question that knocked him off balance.

“What made this one so different? We’ve been working together for what, a year? And I’ve never seen you upset over a breakup.”

“The sex was fantastic,” he answered too loudly.

“Uh-huh.”

“Oh yeah. I’ve never had a woman who could keep up with me—”

“Because you finish too quickly?”

“Cute. Keep it up.” He stepped on the gas again and your stomach lurched as he pulled off another aggressive passing maneuver in the right lane. “No one walks away from my bed unsatisfied. You could find out. A little reward for helping me out tonight?”

“Not in a million years,” you clipped, shutting him down, even though your wild, lonely, horny side that noticed his beard and fingers was beating at the inside of your skull. “You are going to keep it decent and chaste. Ground rules: holding hands. Kisses on the cheek. Moderate cuddling as the situation calls for it. That should be plenty to sell that we’re involved.”

“You haven’t seen me around women I’m involved with,” he smirked with a suggestive glint in the side of his eye.

“And I’m sure your parents haven’t seen you with a partner who isn’t just some bimbo you’re screwing, either. Cop a feel, and I end the charade right there.”

That comment, which was more insightful than you knew, silenced him. His suggestive side-glance returned forward to focus on the road. That look was back on his face again—the look when he ran out of swaggering bullshit to spew. Sadness. Genuine human sadness.

“She wasn’t clingy,” he said, voice a soft rumble. “Didn’t expect me to be her fucking boyfriend—she was the one who told me no strings.”

“You loved her because she was distant?”

“No. I don’t know. She did nice things, too—like ask how my day was, and bring me coffee. She remembered the way I like it.”

“That’s just basic human kindness, Bryan.” You sighed. “That’s actually… really sad.”

“Fuck you.”

“I mean it. You call women clingy for wanting to be close to you, and now you’re so starved for connection you think remembering your coffee order is a huge deal. Your secretary knows your coffee order. Hell, I know your damned coffee order you’ve sent me out for it enough times, even though—as I often remind you—that’s not my job. I’m sorry. Really. But maybe this is a lesson? That you actually have a heart and might want to try opening it sometime?”

“How the fuck is that the lesson? I open my heart, I get hurt. From now on, I’m only dating broads who disgust me.” His eyes lingered on you for a dangerously long time until you got the point and gave an annoyed grunt. His eyes returned to the road, corners crinkled in satisfaction.

***

Dinner was already starting when Bryan’s BMW finally pulled into the driveway of a large house on a private cul-de-sac. The porch was glowing with tasteful white lights and a wreath on the door. Silhouettes were moving behind the decorative glass set into the front door, waiting for you to get out of the car. As soon as you approached, the door flew open and you were hit with the smell of roast turkey.

“Bry-Bry! We were worried you wouldn’t make it!” His silver-haired mother threw her arms around Bryan’s neck while he grumbled with reluctant affection, hugging her back.

A rich oaken voice of the man who must have been his father said, “And this must be the famous Sydney. We thought we’d never get to meet you.” He shook your hand warmly.

Both of them were wearing hideous red and green Christmas sweaters straight out of a Hallmark movie.

“I can’t believe this one hasn’t driven you away!” Bryan’s mom teased, pinching his pink cheek as she did so. “We’re so happy you put up with our little monster.” She hugged you.

“Come, come on in. Let me take your coat. We were just starting dinner—you’re right on time.” His dad helped you shrug your winter coat off and hung it up in the entryway closet for you.

This was… bizarre. How the hell did people this friendly churn out a Bryan?

More shocking still was when you felt warm, long fingers twine between yours, and you nearly tore your hand away before remembering you had a “boyfriend” tonight. Bryan smiled at you sweetly, eyes soft and affectionate.

Yep. You’d fallen into some kind of Bizarro World.

Martha, his mother, led you both through the spacious house toward the dining room. “What do you think of our humble home?” she asked, pausing in the living room. “I keep thinking I should move that chair to the other side of the fireplace. What do you think? Would it flow better?”

“Uh, I’m not really—”

“Mom! We’re hungry,” Bryan snapped.

“Oh, come on, honey, let me pick her brain! It’s not every day we have an interior designer in here.”

“Bryan told you I’m an interior designer?” Your mouth smiled pleasantly at Bryan while your eyes stabbed daggers into his stupid handsome face.

“Obviously I forgot I mentioned it,” he smiled back.

You batted your eyes. Now the daggers were on fire.

“Well, what do you think? Chair on the left, or the right?”

“Well,” you said, “the symmetry with the fireplace is… balanced with the rich tones in the leather”—Martha nodded along attentively—“You know, I’ve been working all day, maybe we can talk shop later?”

“Oh! Of course! I’m sorry—Bryan’s mean old mom ambushing you the minute you walk in the door!” She flexed her hand into vampire-claws and playfully attacked your shoulder. “Aw, are the stuffy old adults embarrassing you, peanut?”

Bryan’s cheeks turned the brightest pink you had ever seen them. And this was a man who didn’t blush when telling a roomful of attorneys to go fuck themselves. You let out the first genuine laugh you’d made in his presence. You squeezed his hand.

“Honey-bear, I love your parents!”

***

The table was crowded with Kneef siblings, cousins, and their children and spouses. Finn, you guessed, was the youngest boy. And that would make the silver fox next to him Timothy. His older brother had the same bluntness as Bryan, but none of the cruelty. In fact, his entire family was so… normal.

Bryan’s hard edges were hardly softened in their presence, but unlike in the office where his cranky moods inspired fear, here they were met with boos and hisses and his cousin throwing a bread roll at him. The youngest kids mimicked this exciting behavior, and soon it was raining whole-wheat on Bryan Kneef.

You smiled and patted his hand and called him “dear” and made sure your mouth was full of turkey the moment anyone asked you about yourself.

Over the evening, you learned that Mrs. Martha Kneef put herself through nursing school after having her first child to support the family while her husband piddled around with his low-paying hobby in computers. By the time Bryan was born, his father was programming for a growing company, working his way up the ranks—back in the days when one could do that. By the time Bryan was ten, dad was the Chief Information Officer of one of the largest corporations in the country.

And so Bryan, the youngest, grew up with a silver spoon in his mouth, handed all the things his parents had worked hard for in the hopes that he would have a better life.

“All the child-rearing books at the time said encouragement was important,” said Martha, who was a little drunk on red wine at this point. She let out an exasperated groan. “This is what happens when you encourage too much. We created a monster. Didn’t we?” Her voice went higher as she pinched Bryan’s cheek again.

“Martha and I are so happy to see him finally settling down with someone.”

“Yeah, how’d you manage to find a girl who’ll put up with you?” Tim teased, punching Bryan’s arm.

Bryan stared back. Locked eyes with his brother. He took a deep breath. “How’d you manage to—”

Bryan then asked something too obscene to be repeated, which set the entire table screaming, and parents’ hands clamping over children’s ears (though not before an adorable curly-haired niece asked, “mommy, what’s a prolapsed rectum?”).

You should have been offended, or embarrassed to be attached to the guy wrecking Christmas without even needing to be drunk. But oddly, as hot as your cheeks were, you found yourself laughing. You were dating the most interesting guy at the table. He was so overwhelmingly charismatic—not necessarily in a positive way, but in a way that made him the center of attention in any room he walked into. And he was charming enough for people to keep wanting him around, even when he said things that... were probably going to scar those children for life. Not to mention the adults.

Reaching over, you cupped the opposite side of his cheek and forced him to turn his head to you. “You’re so bad, Bry. How do I put up with you?” You began affectionately scratching his beard like it was something you’d done to him a hundred times. “He’s just so cute, I can’t resist. Settle down now, baby.”

His mom gave a loud, “Aww” and Bryan side-eyed his brother, who snorted.

You were getting into it, mussing up his perfect beard in a way that was sure to annoy him later—but it wasn’t annoying him that was on your mind. It was more the feeling of that coarse but soft hair under your fingertips, the shape of his jawline… the way he was staring back at you, eyelids drooping…

“It’s really the beard I’m dating—if he ever shaves, we’re breaking up,” you joked, suddenly needing to crush the romantic mood. It worked. His family laughed, and Bryan scowled, catching your wrist to make you stop.

***

Bryan wanted to leave right after dinner, but his mother wheedled him to stay.

“We’ve still got your bedroom set up if you want to sleep here. Think of it—we could have Christmas morning together just like when you and Timmy were babies!”

“Ma! I couldn’t impose on Syd. She… has a cat.”

Great. More backstory to remember. You surreptitiously elbowed him in the side.

Bryan got his dominating instincts from somewhere, though. The big ask to stay the night was a tactic to make him give in to the smaller ask of staying for hot cocoa and holiday movies.

Bryan had yet to recover from your crack about breaking up with him and forgot to play the part of the affectionate boyfriend. While her husband was explaining the intricacies of a particular wireless security device to whichever cousins would listen, Martha casually sidled up and whispered, “You don’t have to be shy about PDA in front of us old people. We’ve seen everything.”

“Oh! Uh...” Your mouth gaped, unsure how the fuck to respond to that.

Bryan overheard it and rolled his eyes with a groan. “Ma!”

He looked so grumpy and annoyed, something about it made you kiss him on the cheek. Just to put to rest his mother’s suspicions! That must have been it.

Then Bryan was all fire again, his eyes glittering above a wicked smirk. He grabbed your waist and pulled you roughly against his arousingly solid body, covering your neck with wet, open-mouthed kisses. Oh god, hot. He was definitely only doing this to make his mom uncomfortable, and if you knew Bryan, he wouldn’t stop until she regretted meddling or he was fucking you on the stack of presents under the tree. So why was your skin too hot? Why did it prickle everywhere his hand wandered? Palming your curves, sliding down to your hips, lowering over the swell of—

You leaned close until your lips brushed the shell of his ear. “Watch your hands, or HR is hearing all about this,” you warned, then pulled away smiling.

Bryan smiled back. “Of course, babycakes.”

“You lovebirds! Keep it PG.”

He warned you in the car that no one would buy him keeping things chaste, didn’t he? Well, you weren’t going to be the one to blow your cover.

When you filed into the living room where the kids were already watching A Christmas Story, there was only one spot left on the couch, and an empty armchair. Bryan flopped down on the recliner, and you sat on his lap. His chest vibrated as he gave an encouraging growl, cocking an eyebrow at you.

“You didn’t expect me to sit alone, did you, honey-bear?” you cooed.

His hand moved to support your hip, cradling you close to him. The other hand covered yours, which was resting on your knee. It was just a performance, but god, his hands were so big and warm, and the gesture so remarkably soft. You let yourself recline back against his chest, and turned your head to inspect his profile—the greying at his temple, a strong, square brow that shaded such lively green eyes.

A fire danced in the fireplace, stockings hung up neatly above it. A tree in the opposite corner filled the room with a piny balsam scent. The whole scene felt so domestic. Bryan’s beard scratched the side of your face, the soft cashmere of the sweater he’d thrown on over his dress shirt making him a comfortable cuddle partner. Suddenly you could imagine perfectly well why someone might put up with him.

“So, Sydney, how did you meet Bryan?” his father asked. A few other prying relatives leaned forward, and you began to sweat.

“Oh… I’m sure Bryan’s already told this story,” you deflected, glancing at him for assistance. Bryan frowned.

“It was through a case.” His evasive answer only made everyone more curious.

“What kind of case?”

“A divorce case.”

A bark of laughter leaped from your throat before you could hold it in, and you had to quickly disguise it as the kind of nostalgic laugh you get from an inside joke. “It’s true”—you stroked Bryan’s beard—“I think he only slept with me as part of the victory, you know? Took my ex’s money, took his wife. You know our Bryan,” you giggled. You would bet money that was exactly how it happened, too. “It’s a major rebound for me. But it’s been working out. Bryan has this whole other side to him that people don’t see.”

He looked at you. The clarity of his green eyes caught you off guard, and you felt a burning heat creeping up the side of your neck toward your ears.

“Well, we’re so happy to meet you!”

“You dog, Bry.”

“Want to see baby pictures?”

The last voice was Martha’s.

“No.” Bryan said. “She doesn’t.”

Of your asshole boss? Why yes. Yes, you did.

“He used to be such a sweet little peanut.” His mother always seemed eager to stir trouble for her brat of a son. “Just wait until you see how cute he was in diapers.”

“No!” Bryan groaned, but couldn’t stop you from following Martha to the family photo albums.

He had no power here.

• ● • ━━━━━─ ••●•• ─━━━━━ • ● •

Tagged: @beccabarba​ / @caked-crusader​ / @itsjustmyfantasyroom​ / @thatesqcrush​ / @dianilaws​ / @permanentlydizzy​ / @mrsrafaelbarba​ / @madamsnape921​ / @astrangegirlsmind​ / @neely1177​ / @onerestein​ / @welcometothemadxxhouse​ / @stardust-fray​ / @dreila03​ / @tropes-and-tales​ / @the-baby-bookworm​ / @ireadfanfictionontheweekends​ 

(I also just tagged everyone who commented/reblogged the last chapter even if u didn’t ask so uhhh >_> lmk if you hate that?)

[bellafarallones2]

Please, consider writing a fic where the residents of Amnesty Lodge and the Pine Guard go to the WV Ren Faire. Sylphs don’t wear their disguises? Your choice of ships. Thank you so much for your writing!!!

thank you so much for the prompt!! this is kind of... ot4 adjacent? t rated. i also haven't been to a ren faire since i was a little kid so there's that

Going to a renaissance faire had been Joseph’s idea, and Duck had been happy to go along with it, because even if the faire itself turned out to be boring he’d at least get to enjoy looking at his boyfriend in shorts. They were walking hand-in-hand past the row of artists when Joseph stopped stock still.

“What?” said Duck, and followed Joseph’s gaze to a booth whose calligraphied sign read

INDRID COLD

FORTUNES TOLD

PORTRAITS PAINTED

The inner walls of the booth were hung with art, presumably the work of the pale-haired, dark-skinned man standing there.

Joseph dragged Duck over by the hand. “Is that Hercules fighting the hydra?” he said to the artist, gesturing to one of the larger paintings. Duck looked at it. The musculature of Hercules’s back was depicted a little too lovingly to be entirely heterosexual, but then again, you could say the same about Michelangelo. A seven headed-serpent loomed over him, iridescent scales and fangs dripping with venom. Another man held out a torch. A tiny brown crab crept towards Hercules’ heel.

“Good eye, my lord,” said the artist. “Yes, I’ve done quite a few mythological scenes.” Duck spotted a painting of Andromeda being rescued from the sea monster by Perseus, the water boiling at her feet, and a portrait of a beautiful, cruel-eyed Medusa. Some of the other art in the booth appeared to have been inspired by medieval illuminated manuscripts, like an epic battle between tiny knights and giant snails.

“Oh, God, I can’t pick which one I like the most,” muttered Joseph.

“Perhaps you’d be interested in a portrait of the two of you? It would be an honor to draw gentlemen as handsome as yourselves.”

Joseph looked to Duck for permission, and Duck shrugged. “It’d make a good souvenir.”

“Do you take card?” Joseph inquired.

“I don’t know the medieval way to say it, but yes.”

“Great! We’d like one of the full-color ones.”

He’d bought the most expensive kind, and Indrid gestured them to a couple of folding chairs. “Make yourselves comfortable however you like.”

“Can I be leaning against him?” said Stern.

“Sure.” Indrid arranged a pencil and a set of pastels at his side and sat down behind the easel.

Duck put his arm around Stern’s shoulder and took the opportunity to study the artist. He was quite good looking, and his eyes were clever on Joseph and Duck’s faces.

“Is this your first time at the faire?” Indrid asked politely.

“Yeah,” said Duck.

“My first time at this one,” said Joseph. “I used to go to one every year in Illinois, but I just moved to Virginia.”

“Well, welcome. I thought it might be your first time, I’d certainly remember seeing you before.”

When he finally turned the canvas around Joseph gasped. He’d done an excellent job. Captured, in fact, the features that he himself liked best about Duck. Strength and softness, dark brown hair barely streaked with gray, eyes that were just slightly different colors and a good-natured grin.

Duck, for his part, was looking at how Indrid had drawn Stern: capturing his uprightness perfectly, the way he looked slightly out-of-place in a t shirt. His perfectly combed hair and the intelligent gleam in his dark eyes. “Damn,” he said, and Indrid glowed from the praise.

“I’d like to buy the Hercules as well,” Joseph said. “It’d fit perfectly right above my desk.”

Indrid wrapped up the portrait and the Hercules painting, put them in a paper bag, and handed it over to Joseph, who immediately handed it to Duck to carry.

They said good-bye to Indrid and wandered on, though none of the other booths in the art section caught their attention. Then they watched the joust, livened up significantly by Joseph leaning down to whisper “that is not how people behave when they get stabbed” in Duck’s ear.

The area where the food stalls were was a cauldron of delicious smells, and after the joust Duck beelined towards a booth promising french onion soup. Only when he got close, Joseph on his heels, did he notice a familiar figure: Indrid was leaning on the counter talking to the man behind it. He smiled when Duck and Joseph came up next to him. “Oh, hello! I had the pleasure of painting these two’s portrait earlier,” he said to the man at the soup stall, whose name tag read BARCLAY.

“If you like Indrid’s art you must have good taste,” said Barclay.

“Thank you,” said Joseph, trying not to stare. Barclay had auburn hair and a beard that did nothing to conceal the handsomeness of the face beneath it, and he wore a sleeveless leather doublet that showed off his broad chest and beefy arms.

“What can I get for you?” Barclay said pleasantly.

“French onion soup in a bread bowl, please,” said Duck, already pulling out his wallet.

“Good choice!” said Barclay. “It’ll take me a minute to melt the cheese on top, but I think it’s worth it, don’t you?”

“Always,” said Duck, delighted to meet a fellow man of taste.

The soup, needless to say, was delicious despite, the heat of the day.

--

Indrid Cold, seer and artist extraordinaire, was bent over the sink in an Olive Garden bathroom, scrubbing at his shirt with the hand soap. Working ren faires wasn’t enough to pay the bills, so he was also a busboy, and today he’d tripped while carrying a full tray of plates. He’d managed to stop any of the plates from shattering, but someone’s half-eaten ravioli with marinara sauce had slid down his whole front.

Finally Indrid gave up and pulled his shirt off to clean it more effectively, and of course it was at that moment, with his shirt half over his head, that the door to the men’s room opened.

When he got the shirt all the way off his face went hot with humiliation. It was one half of the hot couple from the ren faire, the ones he’d almost given his number to, now dressed in a suit jacket and white button-down. And Indrid was standing there shirtless and smelling like garlic.

“Oh, hi!” the hottie said. “Indrid, right? From the ren faire?”

“Yes,” said Indrid miserably, trying to hide his skinny chest with his shirt.

“You’re having dinner here too?”

“No, I work here.”

“Oh, cool! Duck and I come here for date night sometimes. Uh, I’m Joseph by the way.”

Indrid perked up a little, since Joseph didn’t seem to be laughing at him. “It’s nice to meet you again!”

One of the waiters opened the door and leaned inside. “Indrid! Table seven needs clearing, and a wet shirt won’t kill you.”

Indrid looked sadly down at the shirt in his hand. It wouldn’t kill him, but it would make him miserable, and there were still four hours left in his shift.

“Want to switch shirts?” said Joseph. “We’re about the same size.”

“I can’t take your fancy shirt,” Indrid said.

“Sure you can. Duck will understand. And I’ll give you my number so we can trade back tomorrow.” He was already unbuttoning his shirt.

“Oh - okay!” said Indrid, and tried to squeeze as much of the water out of his own shirt as he could before handing it over. The fabric of Joseph’s shirt felt amazing against his skin, and it smelled like expensive cologne, and when he got it buttoned he realized it was a little too wide in the shoulders for him, even though he was taller. “I don’t have my phone on me,” he said. He usually left it in his locker while he was working.

Joseph pulled his phone out of his pocket. “Here, just put your number in mine. I’ll text you.”

Indrid took the extra second to add a spaghetti emoji next to his name before handing the phone back. “Thank you so much. I owe you one, seriously,” he said on his way back out the door.

Duck raised his eyebrows when Joseph came back to the table wearing a damp t shirt (he’d spent several minutes squeezing the rest of the water out of it) underneath his suit jacket. “I was starting to wonder if you’d fallen in,” Duck said.

“Nope! And you’ll never guess whose number I just got.”

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

I Could Be Your Sometimes Part Eight

Previous Part | Next Part | Masterlist Rating: Explicit - 18+ Only Notes: Set before the series. Texts with times in front of them and no name or initials in front of them indicate reader’s texts Thank you to everyone that’s liked and read this!! Pairing: Andy Barber x Reader Warnings: Infidelity and sexual content. If you dislike this, please don’t read. Thank you.

Chapter-specific warnings: Cursing; kissing; oral sex; handjobs Summary: I didn’t need this. I didn’t need this now, I didn’t need it later, but I really didn’t need it after working for five hours. I wasn’t even done, I was just stepping out for lunch. 

I should’ve woken up alone. However, when my alarm went off, an arm flung itself over my middle and a voice groaned, “Shut it off.” Fear not-- this arm and that voice were not disembodied. Worse! They belonged to Neal Loguidice. I reached out, grabbing my phone and shutting the alarm off. Neal snuggled closer, pressing his face into the back of my neck (I hadn’t figured the guy for a cuddler, and he’d kept his distance when I was falling asleep the night before, which was why I’d figured he’d ditch. I hadn’t stayed up to make sure, I mean, fuck, he’d come through the front door, he knew where it was). “What time is it?” He mumbled. “6:30,” I answered. “Why the hell is your alarm set for 6:30 on a Saturday?” Neal grumbled. “I’m going into work, remember?” I reminded him. I reached down, removing his arm from where it had wrapped around me and sitting up, raking a hand through my hair as I yawned. I got out of bed, grabbing my bathrobe from where it was flung over the back of the chair at my vanity and pulling it on before heading into the bathroom. I looked like hell. I felt like it, too. I showered, brushed my teeth quickly, then hurried into my bedroom to get dressed. “You weren’t kidding about going in, huh?” Why was he still in my bed! “Nope,” I said, opening my drawers and rifling through them for something to wear. I heard him sigh, followed by the rustling of sheets. I was an inch away from making a solid sweater selection when I felt Neal kissing my shoulder. “You sure I can’t get you to change your mind?” He murmured. I rolled my eyes, knowing he couldn’t see my face. The sex hadn’t been bad, it just hadn’t managed to be as hot as the four minutes of... contact that Andy and I had had in his office. And Andy and I had been fully clothed the entire time. “As tempting as that sounds,” I said, coating my tone with as much honey as I could muster, “I really do have to go in.” -- “Can we talk?” I didn’t need this. I didn’t need this now, I didn’t need it later, but I really didn’t need it after working for five hours. I wasn’t even done, I was just stepping out for lunch. It was like a punch, seeing Andy leaning against my car. I hadn’t bothered to stealth-park it like I had for the last few weeks; I had other things on my mind. “...Laurie told you that I was working today, didn’t she,” I said, folding my arms over my chest. Andy nodded and I scoffed, shaking my head, muttering, “Unbelievable.” “If anything’s unbelievable here, sweetheart, it’s you working on a Saturday.” “Don’t,” I said sharply. Andy closed his mouth, nodding and muttering, “Alright,” Before meeting my eye. “We should talk,” He insisted. “Somehow I don’t think that’s a good idea.” “Come on, please, I just... I wanna clear the air.” Andy stared me down, imploring, and it only took seconds for my resolve to crack. I huffed, turning and waving my ID at the keypad before I opened the door, waving him inside. His brow furrowed. “You wanna do it here?” He asked, coming closer. “Would you rather we do this at your house?” I sniped, batting my eyelashes. Andy didn’t answer, just pursed his lips and stepped inside ahead of me. -- There was no one else in our office, and I knew none of the cleaning staff would be sweeping through for a while, but I still led Andy into a conference room on the off-chance someone else decided to come in and get some work done. I flicked the lights on and closed the window’ blinds before I shrugged my coat off. “Fucking 800 degrees in here,” I mumbled, tossing it over the back of a chair. Andy hummed in agreement, pulling his own coat off. I leaned against a window, watching him. It was almost odd to see him in something that wasn’t a suit. He looked cozy, in a navy blue sweater and a pair of jeans. My eyes darted to the chain on his neck, my mind flashing back to the feeling of it under my palm. I rubbed my hands together, trying to push the thought away again before I regarded Andy. “So?” I asked. “So,” He nodded, resting his hands on the back of a chair and leaning against it, “Last night, uh... Last night was unexpected. Especially considering the fact that you’ve been actively trying to avoid me.” “Is that really all you came up here for?” I asked, unable to keep irritation from seeping into my tone, “What, are you going to say it was all a big mistake and that we were drunk?” “No, I’m not gonna make an excuse like that--” “Then what?” I snapped. Andy’s head dropped forward, and I felt my stomach curdle. I hated this. I should’ve left my Barber contact to Laurie, god knows this never would’ve happened with Laurie. “There is...Something about you,” Andy said quietly, lifting his head to look at me, “I lose my head when I’m around you. I don’t know what it is.” “Well figure it out.” Andy’s jaw tightened with irritation, white-knuckling the back of the chair as he straightened to stare me down. “I’m not blameless here, you know,” He pointed out. I huffed a humorless laugh, nodding. “Trust me, I know that.” “So what is it for you? Do you already have it figured out?” “What it is for me shouldn’t matter to you.” “Does.” “Shouldn’t.” “Does.” “Stop that.” Andy’s lips quirked with an amused smile - one that made his face look incredibly hot and stupidly punchable. He drew himself to his full height, rounding the table slowly, a calm, stalking stroll. His fingertips trailed over the tabletop, and I tried not to think about them bunching up the skirt of my dress just hours before. “You wanted me,” He reminded me as he grew closer, “You wanted to touch me, and you wanted me to touch you.” “Watch it, Barber,” I warned. That stopped him in his tracks, just a couple of feet from me. “We’re back to that?” he asked, unimpressed, “I think I liked it better when I had you squirming and moaning my name.” I bit the inside of my cheek, flushing hot at the reminder. “’Moaning’ is an exaggeration,” I said indignantly. “But squirming is accurate?” Andy teased. He took a few steps closer, eyes drifting over my face, lingering on my lips before he met my eye again. “Did you think about me?” He asked. I frowned, confused. “...What?” I asked. “Neal let me know on his way out that he was heading to yours for a drink.” I turned my head away from Andy, looking somewhere, anywhere else. Of course that had been some stupid power play on Loguidice’s part. Andy had humiliated him in front of me and Neal had made it a point to let Andy know that he’d gotten to me anyway. “I put two and two together,” Andy added. “Well, you’re not an Assistant DA for nothing,” I grumbled through clenched teeth. “You gonna deny it?” Andy pressed. “Why would I?” I asked, lifting my eyes to his again, “Who I fuck is my business.” Andy’s jaw clenched at that, and I watched him take in a deep breath before he crowded closer, bringing his hands up to bracket either side of my head. “Did you think about me?” He murmured. This was not good-- maybe there was something to Andy saying he lost his head around me. I seemed to lose any and all semblance of rational thought when Andy was this close. I could smell the sharp, earthy sent of his cologne, see his chest rise and fall under his sweater. I swallowed thickly, lowering my eyes to wear the light was glinting off of his chain. “You should go,” I whispered. “Do you want me to?” Andy asked, “Be honest. You tell me to leave, I will. Just say the word, sweetheart. Do you want me to go?” I hesitated before I shook my head. Andy’s hand gripped my chin, tipping it up to meet his eyes. “You used to squirm back when you babysat for us, too. You think I didn’t notice? You think I didn’t see you watching me?” He murmured. His words sent shock shooting through me; I couldn’t bring myself to look away from him, but his gaze was so heavy it felt like it might break me down. I managed to shake my head a little again, sucking my lip in between my teeth and he cooed. “Of course I noticed you, sweetheart. Blushing and biting your lip all the goddamn time.” He reached up, running the tip of his thumb along the seam before he tenderly pulled my lower lip from between my teeth. “Last night--” I tried weakly. “I wanted to ruin you,” Andy groaned, resting his forehead against mine, “Right there, on my desk--” “I would’ve let you,” I admitted, tipping my head back to rest against the window; my head felt like it was buzzing, like I couldn’t keep it up any longer. My nose nudged against his as I moved, and Andy pushed out a short, sharp breath. “Yeah?” He asked. I nodded. “Did you think about me when you were with him?” Andy smoothed his thumb over my cheekbone, and I melted. “Yes.” When I was younger, I had imagined this a thousand times. I had an idea of these chaste kisses that Andy would give, cradling my cheeks, like I was something small and fragile. My fantasies were innocent; Andy and I would regard one another softly, come together sweetly, and part ways with gentle, but sensible smiles, knowing it was the right thing to do.  There was nothing soft or sensible about us now. Andy’s lips crushed against mine as he finally closed the space between us. I allowed my hesitance and nerves to give way to hunger and I reached up, hooking an arm around his neck and keeping him close. Some part of me was worried we’d both come to our senses at any second, and I wanted to hold onto this brief insanity for as long as possible. But it didn’t end. Andy didn’t reel away like I expected, and I didn’t reach up with the intention of pushing him away as I had the night before. There was no lingering specter of his family nearby, of what we were betraying. I didn’t even flinch as I felt the cool of his wedding ring slip over my heated skin, his hand sliding under my shirt to skim over my side. I slid my hands down to Andy’s waist, steering him back toward the conference table. I never let my lips separate from his, not wanting him to get the wrong impression. He went easily, taking steady steps back until his thighs hit the table. He settled against it then, spreading his legs and wrapping his arms around me to draw me closer. I leaned away from Andy for a moment, taking in the pink tinge that had bloomed on the apples of his cheeks, the pupils blown wide with want, his bruised lips and mussed hair. Pride rolled through me. I had done that.  I dipped my head, sucking Andy’s plump lower lip between my lips. I traced my tongue over it before tugging at it with my teeth. Andy moaned, and I grinned as I let go of his lip, dipping my tongue into his mouth. I reached down, working my fingers under the hem of his shirt. I broke our kiss again only to tug it up and off, dropping it onto the conference table beside us. Before I could lean in for another kiss, Andy worked at tugging my shirt off as well, mumbling, “Wanna see you, too, sweetheart.” I obliged him, letting my shirt follow suit and leaning into his chest before he could really take me in. The displeased hum he began to make gave way to a stuttered groan as I kissed and sucked warm, wet kisses down his chest. His fingers wound into my hair, taking hold and giving gentle, encouraging tugs. I was careful not to let my teeth dig in too deep, or to linger on any one spot for too long. My hands settled on the buckle of his belt, making short work of it. Andy made a questioning sound above me, and I squeezed him through his jeans. He let out a shaky laugh, a mumbled, “Ah.” “What’d you think I was going to do down there?” I asked as I straightened up, “Ask where you got these jeans?” “They are my favorite pair,” Andy informed me as I undid the fastenings. “And you wore them just for me?” I teased as I dipped my hand under the waistband of his underwear. Andy chuckled, tugging the cups of my bra down before he bent his head, tonguing at one of my nipples. He lapped at it delicately before taking it into his mouth. I moaned softly at the feeling, arching up into the heat. I shivered as he leaned away, blowing cool air over the wetted skin. He turned his head, mouthing over the side of my other breast before teasing the nipple. I couldn’t help my wriggling in place, squeezing my thighs together as I thumbed the head of his cock. He groaned into my skin before he leaned away to watch me. I made a move to kneel down, but he stopped me, hand steadying on my hip. “Not here,” He said softly. For the first time since we started this, fear shot through me. It must’ve shown in my face, because Andy quickly added, “The floor’s gonna be too hard on your knees, angel, I don’t want them to hurt.” I pouted, leaning in and kissing Andy warmly as I pulled his cock out. “But I wanna get my mouth on you,” I murmured, palming the shaft, “Please?” I added in the sweetest whine I could muster. Andy barely managed to stifle a desperate sound in his throat, yielding and nodding. He watched me sink to my knees, fingers still wound in my hair as I took my place on my knees. As badly as I wanted to savor the moment, I was also acutely aware of the fact that I was in my office, in a conference room with a door that didn’t lock. I cursed myself for not bringing him back to my apartment, and felt a thrill as the dangerous thought of, ‘Next time’, crossed my mind. I leaned in, teasing the head with the tip of my tongue, repeating the tender touches Andy had treated me to moments before. I peered up at him from under my lashes, relishing in the sight of him watching me through hooded lids. I bobbed my head slowly, taking a little more of him into my mouth each time, swiping my tongue around the head and along the glans on every third pass. Now and again he’d tighten his hold on my hair, apply a little more pressure, and I’d let him steer me where he wanted before I’d lightly scrape my teeth over him - a warning, a reminder of who was in charge right now. I brought my hand up from where I’d steadied myself against his thighs, gripping the shaft as I lapped at the head like a lollipop. Andy hissed. “If you keep that up, it’s gonna be over, angel,” he warned. I leaned away, raising a brow. “Did you have other plans?” I asked. Andy’s lusty satisfaction melted to a grin as he reached down, gripping me by my arms and pulling me up. “Of course I have other plans,” he chuckled, leaning in and sweeping his tongue into my mouth. I sighed, leaning against him as his arms wound around me. “Were you...Going to clue me in... At any point?” I mumbled between kisses. Andy hummed thoughtfully. “'m cluing you in now,” He pointed out. I grinned as his hands drifted over my ass, giving it a squeeze.

“What are these other plans, then?” I pressed. I couldn’t help the squeak that I let out as Andy swatted my ass. “So impatient,” He grumbled. He gave my ass another squeeze before he brought one hand around, slipping under the band of my leggings. He tutted when he felt my thighs clenched together. “Open up for me, angel,” he urged. I obliged, relaxing a bit and shuddering as his fingers prodded me through my underwear. I whimpered, pressing my face into his neck as he tapped his fingers over my cloth-covered clit. “Andy,” I mumbled. He hummed, applying a little more pressure. “I want you to fuck me,” I spoke against his skin, chasing the words with desperate little kisses.  “Not here,” Andy shook his head. I fought the urge to bite down in retaliation -- I could only be so stupid about this. “Why.” Andy’s touches became more insistent then, slipping his fingers under the band of my panties and rubbing tight, fast circles over my clit. Andy turned his head, murmuring into my ear, “Because when we do this for the first time, I’m going to do it right. It’s not going to be a quick fuck in a conference room, sweetheart. I’m going to take my time with you.” I closed my eyes, lips parting to pant stupidly against his skin. “You want that, don’t you? Want me to take care of you?” He murmured, “Want me to take you apart? You’re barely gonna remember your own fuckin’ name sweetheart, just mine.” “Andy--” I gasped. I reached down, gripping his cock where it was still resting hard against his thigh. He let out a growl, latching onto my neck and biting down. I let out a shocked shout, unable to help it, but it didn’t stop either of us. I didn’t give a damn if Nora walked in at this point and fucking fired me. Andy and I kept working one another, egging the other on with our whines and moans. I spilled over the edge first, managing to muffle my desperate cry against his shoulder. Andy followed a moment later, his release spilling over my fist and onto his abs as he mouthed over the hot, wet mark he’d made. Neither of us moved for a moment. Andy was the first to extract himself, gently moving his hand. He gave my pussy a pat before pulling his hand from my underwear. I shivered, the both of us looking down at his glistening fingers. My stomach jumped as I loosed my grip on his softening cock. What the hell did we just do? I turned away him to grab a few tissues from the corner. I cleaned my hand first, then pulled up the cups of my bra. I grabbed a couple of tissues to give to Andy. I turned back to pass them to him and froze at the sight of him sucking on the fingers he’d been teasing me with. I blinked at him, stunned, and he shot me a look of indignant amusement. “You literally had my dick in your mouth,” He pointed out. “I... Yeah. Valid.” I held the tissues out to him regardless. He took them, cleaning himself up before tucking himself away. I reached out, grabbing my shirt from his and pulling it on. I suddenly felt a bit cold, and kinda sleepy, and I vaguely remembered that this fucking fiasco had started with my plan to go and get lunch. My blood sugar was probably through the floor. Andy didn’t hurry to put his shirt on, tossing the tissues into the nearby trashcan before he reached out, bringing me back into his chest. I felt a pleased smile bloom on my face. I had been expecting him to retreat, and quickly. I rested my hands on his shoulders, eyes settled on his chest. “You goin’ all shy on me two minutes after you were writhing on my fingers?” He teased. “It’s been three minutes,” I retorted, and he laughed, leaning up and mouthing over the hollow of my throat. I closed my eyes, tipping my chin up to give him more room. “Andy?” I murmured. He hummed. “Did you mean it?” I asked. “Mean what, angel?” I swallowed thickly. “About, you know,” I mumbled. He chuckled, reveling in my bashfulness. “Not sure I do, beautiful,” He shook his head slowly, stubble scraping harshly over the mark he’d made on me, and I tightened my grip on his shoulders. “About... Taking your time with me,” I explained. Andy turned his head, pressing a tender kiss over the abused skin before he leaned back to meet my eyes. “Every fucking word.” Tag list: @fanficadddddict69 ; @nina-sj​; @rosalynshields ; @what-is-your-wish​

[vampiregirl1797]

When You Need to Escape to Your Happy Place

Spencer Reid x Reader

GIF Not Mine.

Click Here For Masterlist.

Word Count: 2,621

Warnings: talk of a toxic relationship, but otherwise SO MUCH FLUFF.

Summary: A fight with your father leads to you seeking out Spencer’s calming presence.

‘Can I come over?’ I said, speaking quietly in an attempt to keep my voice from cracking due to all the tears I’d shed in the past hour.

‘Of course you can.’ Spencer’s voice was soft, but I could hear the concern in his tone— he knew me well enough to know that a call past 11pm followed by me asking to come over meant one of two things: I was drunk, or I’d had a fight with my dad again and I needed to get out of the house. In this case, it was the latter.

‘Great, I’ll be up in a few minutes.’ I murmured, hanging up the phone and wiping the moisture from my cheeks with the sleeve of the oversized hoodie I was wearing.

Spence had become my safe place, somewhere I could escape and feel content and free. My dad and I didn’t get along, and honestly it had been that way for as long as I could remember. I’d given up hope that we ever would, but that revelation didn’t help when I was still living at home and was faced with his presence more often than not. The relationship was complicated, but honestly I couldn’t wait for the day I could afford to move out and never have to live through forced conversations again. The thing with my dad was... he was a bully. An emotionally manipulative bully. Maybe it was harsh, and a few years ago I would have felt awful for even thinking it, never mind saying it aloud, but it was the truth. Our opinions differed, and when they did he would scream at me and tell me I was childish for not respecting his opinion, when in actuality I had no problem respecting that his views were different from mine. What I did have an issue with was him being blatantly ignorant to the information I tried to bring to his attention, especially if that would lead to him questioning his own opinions. 

Aside from that, he also didn’t respect my personal space, or my right to have control over my own body. I’ve never been close with my dad, perhaps due to our differing personalities, but either way I’ve never felt comfortable around him. Whenever he’s in a room, I’m hyper aware of his presence, unable to completely relax. If he’s on the same sofa, I’m focused on making sure he stays out of my space, the prospect of him accidentally touching me putting me on edge. I’m less chatty, partly because I know he most likely won’t respond to anything I say to him anyway, but also because I minimise my talking to avoid saying something that may lead to an argument. Occasionally, he’d demand a hug, or some form of affection. He wouldn’t ask, he would demand: ‘give me a cuddle’ or ‘give me a hug.’ Now for me, this would be equivalent to a stranger walking up to me and demanding physical affection like I owe it to them. When I say no, he pulls his face and makes snide comments intended to make me feel guilty or to earn my mum’s attention to get her in on the guilt trip too. I don’t understand how he thinks I’d feel comfortable enough around him to casually give him a hug, especially since we’ve never been close, and we don’t get along. It’s as if he feels he’s owed affection from me because I’m his daughter, and that’s not the case. 

Due to our distant relationship in close living quarters, I was unable to act like I wasn’t uncomfortable around him, it was apparent in my tone whenever he spoke to me and I answered him, it was obvious in my behaviour whenever he ‘told’ me to do something (he never asked) and as a result, we argued a lot over my “attitude” towards him. And believe me, I’d beaten myself up over my tone when I speak to him more than a hundred times, and I’ve actively tried not to do it, but it’s instinctive and because I simply cannot pretend to be something I’m not. I just can’t do it. 

This was why we’d argued tonight. He’d told me to clean the living-room, I’d put some Ariana Grande on over the Alexa, he’d yelled at me for putting it on too loudly because of the dog, I’d pointed out that mum had it the same volume whenever she cleaned the house and it was never a problem then. I’d tried turning it down but I couldn’t hear it loudly enough to get into the proper groove of cleaning, I’d stormed to my room to grab my headphones, he’d lectured me and told me my attitude stinks and ordered me out of his sight. So after throwing on some sweats and an oversized hoodie I’d stolen from Spencer a few weeks prior, I’d left. I ended up driving around for a while and when I stopped I found myself in front of Spencer’s apartment building. 

‘Hey honey,’ Spence greeted after he’d opened the door. He waited until I’d stepped inside before he asked the question that made my already brittle defences crumble, ‘are you okay?’

Just like that, the tears returned and I found myself instinctually nuzzling into his chest as his arms wrapped around me. I loved being in Spencer’s arms, he was so tall that being hugged by him was guaranteed to make me feel safe and content as I was surrounded by his scent and warmth. I don’t know how long he held me for, but by the time my sobs had subsided, my throat felt raw and my head hurt from all the tears I’d shed. When I pulled back, his usually cinnamon eyes were dark with concern, but he didn’t speak, knowing by now that if I wanted to share then I would in my own time. Instead, he took my hand and led me over to his sofa, and when I saw the blankets and two cups of still steaming hot chocolate he must have prepared for my arrival, I nearly broke down in tears again. He was such an amazing, kind, considerate man and honestly I’d been in love with him from the moment we met six months ago. I’d wanted to tell him, but the timing never seemed right, with him getting called away at a moments notice because of his job, and also because I was a chicken who was afraid of him rejecting me, and then me losing him altogether. 

‘I’ve bought all of your favourite movies on Prime,’ he murmured, wrapping his arm around my shoulders and allowing me to snuggle into his side, ‘what do you feel like watching?’

‘Hmm... I would love to watch Moana, but I’m intruding on you so—.’ I never got to finish as he shushed me and played the movie I’d requested. 

A small but genuine smile broke out on my face and I rested my head on his chest to hide it, knowing he’d want to know the reason for the goofy expression on my face. The truth was, whenever Spencer took care of me, or did something for the simple reason that it would make me happy... it made me all warm and gooey inside. And that happiness, that warmth, often found a way to make itself known, whether it was through a blush or a goofy grin. Either way, I always attempted to hide my reaction from Spencer, afraid he would want to know the reasoning behind it. 

I felt my eyes flutter closed as Spence settled a grey fluffy blanket around the both of us; the comforting warmth and the smell of him was enough to relax me down to my bones, and to allow the emotionally taxing day to catch up with me. The last thing I remembered was hearing Spence humming along to “You’re Welcome” as Mowi sang to Moana. 

//

Waking up was disorientating when I found myself in a bed that wasn’t my own and surrounded by furniture that certainly didn’t belong in my bedroom. But then Spence’s arms tightened around my waist and I figured out where I was, relaxing again immediately. I turned to face him, my arm wrapping around his middle and my leg settling over his hip as I got as close as physically possible. A contented noise fell from my throat as I inhaled the scent of him: he smelled like citrus from his shampoo, faintly woodsy from his cologne and like soap from his fabric softener. It was heaven and I swear if I could somehow bottle it up, I’d never leave the house without it. 

I didn’t realise that Spence was already awake as I rearranged myself around him, but he didn’t mind, in fact he was delighted at her willingness to snuggle back up to him once she’d remembered where she was. He’d felt her stiffen when she’d woken up, which was why he’d pulled her closer a subtle way of reminding her of his presence. Now here he was, fully rested, more comfortable than he’d ever been and able to observe Y/N’s beauty closer than he ever had without her catching him staring. If he believed in such a thing, he’d swear he’d woken up in heaven.

Despite how comfortable I was, I couldn’t fall back asleep. So after I took a few moments to appreciate the tranquility of the moment, because honestly, I’d never felt this content in well, ever, I reluctantly shuffled out of bed, careful not to wake the sleeping genius. I shrugged off the hoodie I was still wearing, leaving myself in a tank top as I made my way to his kitchen, deciding to make him his favourite breakfast as a thank you for looking after me last night. I was familiar enough that pulling out the necessary appliances to make him some chocolate chip pancakes didn’t take me long, and pretty soon I was pouring his coffee and adding the obscene amount of sugar. Once that was done I was about to yell for him, but he surprised me by wrapping his arms around my waist. I squealed and almost dropped my cup of coffee, but I couldn’t deny how good it felt to have him holding me again. If he wasn’t careful, I was going to get addicted. 

‘Good morning.’ He murmured against my shoulder. I shivered at the feel of his warm breath against my skin and the sound of his voice husky with sleep. God, how was it possible for me to be so attracted to him? 

I cleared my throat before I answered with a, ‘good morning. I made you breakfast.’ 

‘You didn’t have to do that, but thank you. I love your pancakes,’ He smiled brightly as I turned to hand him his plate. He seemed reluctant to release his hold on me, much to my delight, but he did and he made his way over to the breakfast bar to eat. 

I slid into the stool next to him and we ate in comfortable silence for a few minutes, both enjoying the food and waiting for the caffeine to kick in to allow us to wake up properly. After a while, I decided to share with him my reason for needing him last night, he deserved it and honestly, there was no one easier to open up to than Spencer.

‘Thank you for looking after me last night, Spence.’ I murmured, his warm cinnamon eyes were soft with understanding and another emotion that evaded me, ‘I got into a fight with my dad again, about something stupid as always, but the result was the same.’

‘I’m sorry, honey.’ He murmured, his hand enveloping my free one, the warmth from his touch radiating throughout my body, ‘you know, if you wanted, you could always move in here.’

I blinked at him, surprised at his offer, I knew how much he appreciated his space and I couldn’t believe he was offering me the opportunity to invade it, ‘Spence that’s really sweet of you to offer, and I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it but I can’t afford to pay rent. That’s one of the reasons I’m still at home, it’s one less expense when I start at university.’

‘You wouldn’t have to pay rent,’ he assured me, continuing before I could protest, ‘think of it as helping me out, okay? I’m gone on cases more often than not, sometimes the apartment can be empty for days at a time. If you’re here, you can look after the place for me, keep food in the fridge, and make me feel more secure knowing that someone is watching over everything. Think of that instead of rent, okay?’

I took a deep breath and thought it through instead of immediately dismissing the idea, like my instincts were telling me to— I didn’t want to take advantage of him. It would be nice to get out of my parents house, to find myself in a warm environment absent of my father’s toxic presence. Plus, living with Spencer would be like a dream come true— one I’d admittedly had a few times— but what if I got too lost in my own feelings and it ruined everything? But he would be on cases more often than not, so that limited the time I could potentially jeopardise our friendship. But I feel like I would be taking advantage of his generosity— living here rent free, only having to keep the place tidy and the fridge stocked, was that a fair exchange?

‘Just know that I wouldn’t be offering if I wasn’t completely happy and comfortable with my proposal.’ His soft voice broke me out of my thoughts, and I felt a sheepish smile on my face as I processed his words. He never failed to amaze me at how in tune he was with my thoughts.

‘Honestly, Spence, it sounds perfect, but I just worry that it’s not a fair exchange for you.’ I bit my lip, worried he’d realise I was right and take the offer off the table.

‘It would be, Y/N.’ His eyes softened to chocolate and shone with nothing but reassurance, ‘Honestly, more than the cleaning and grocery shopping, it would be nice to have someone here. I feel so alone when I return from a case that more often than not I’m eager to go back to escape the emptiness of my apartment. But if you’re here, it won’t feel so cold, it’ll be warm and welcoming.’

I swear to god my heart melted to a puddle of blood and goo in my chest from his words. The sincerity in his eyes told me he meant it, and what kind of heartless monster would I be to argue with him after that admission?

‘I’d love to move in with you, Spence.’ I whispered.

His smile lit up his entire face, his cinnamon eyes glittering with happiness as he wrapped me in a tight hug. I was powerless to resist his excitement and a delighted chuckle fell from my lips as he stood and span me around in a circle. A part of me couldn’t believe that this was happening, that I was finally going to be able to escape the prison I was starting to think I’d be trapped in forever, to move in with the only man I felt truly comfortable around. But one thing was for sure, in that moment, I was happier than I’d ever been in my entire life, and I knew that as long as Spencer was in my life, I’d never feel any different.

A/N: I know, I know all I’m writing is Spencer Reid imagines lately, but I can’t stop!! I hope you liked this one, even there was no declarations of love like in my previous Spencer one-shots, I kinda love how this turned out. 

[peeterparkr]

limits of desire⤳t.h.||18

chapter 18: the vows

story summary: you met Tom a night he was trying to sleep with you, it didn’t work and you became best of friends. Wedding bells might be ringing for when you both realize what you really feel.

summary: the one with the questions and the answers

pairing: fuckboy!tom holland x best friend!reader

warnings: swearing, angsty, didn’t proof read

word count: 4K

song I recommend to listen while reading: 

falling Harry Styles

Put a Little Love on Me-Niall Horan

With or without you-U2

Back to you-Selena Gomez

Just Another Girl-The Killers

She-Elvis Costello

 previous chapter next chapter series masterlist wanna be tagged?

Quiet. That’s how she had been. 

But that’s not something new with y/n. She was reserved, kept her thoughts to herself. She hadn’t gone out yet. She didn’t want to. 

Y/N would sit by the window and stare, and the foggy and grey light would gently dance on her cheeks. She’d let the tears dry, never wiping them off. Lights off, open doors. A cold cup of tea was always in between her hands. Her stare was blank. And she hadn’t said a thing. She didn’t want to. 

She would wear old sweatshirts, and ignore her phone. She didn’t even want to listen to music. She didn’t want to read. She didn’t even watch tv. She didn’t want to. 

That’s the consequence of a decision. And she wondered what he was doing. Did he dress up? Was he also letting tears fall down his face? Did he try to reach up for her? Did he get to sleep at night? She didn’t want to. 

He’d come in dreams and nightmares. So no, she didn’t want to. 

Not yet, at least. 

Why did they push each other to the limits? This was yet another way to avoid him. To ignore the fact that it had been on her this time. And maybe all the times. 

She was staying at Lizzie’s. Her mother had insisted on bringing y/n back to her hometown but y/n had convinced her that London would heal her, because London loved her. And she loved London. 

And Lizzie had tried to make y/n talk. She didn’t. She didn’t want to.

And it worried Lizzie, because y/n was always all about words. Y/N was enamoured by words and books and poetry, and y/n loved to read between the lines. But how could one read between no lines? 

Silence was her way of speaking. 

And Lizzie had seen y/n and compared to what she’d seen on Tom. 

Tom exploded. Tom’s room had been messy and he was showing it everywhere, he had yelled, and he had shown it. Whilst y/n barely showed she was there. Y/N was invisible. 

Tom was loud and y/n was quiet. 

And that explained a lot, Lizzie thought. Because Tom was always loud about everything else when he should’ve stayed still to see that y/n loved him, whilst y/n had to speak up. 

But there she was. Staying still.

“How are you feeling?” Asked Lizzie as she approached y/n, who was sitting down by Lizzie’s porch watching as the rain dripped down. The rain soothing her. 

Y/N didn’t turn to look at her but shrugged. 

Lizzie sighed as she joined her, she had brought a bottle of champagne, strawberry juice and two glasses, she waved the glass to y/n but she didn’t take it. 

“I’m gonna pour you one anyway,” Lizzie said as she poured the champagne and the strawberry juice. “Pink mimosas, your favourite.” 

Y/N showed a slight smile as she took the glass, not looking at her. They clicked their glasses together and y/n took a sip. 

There was a long silence. 

“You made the right choice, y/n,” Lizzie said.

Y/N gulped and kept staring at the rain. 

“I—I—Miguel sent you your stuff back,” Lizzie continued. “If you want to take a look at it.” 

Y/N shook her head. 

Lizzie nodded as she watched her. Y/N’s eyes were glazed again and she thought she might let out a sob. She didn’t. 

“I—Went to talk to…”Lizzie wasn’t sure how to tell her.

Y/N finally looked at her, there was shut of hope. Her cheeks turned slightly pink. 

“I went to Tom’s place yesterday,” Lizzie admitted. “To see if he could help us fix the whole social media hate.” 

Y/N pursed her lips. 

“He didn’t know about it,” Lizzie explained. “He didn’t know the video had taken place.” 

Y/N nodded, understandingly. “Tom,” she whispered. 

“And he will hold a press conference tomorrow, at the Savoy,” Lizzie continued. “He needs to clear up not only his name but yours, too.” 

Y/N looked away. “No.” 

Lizzie blinked. “No? What do you mean by-“

��He shouldn’t do that, clear my name. I hurt him,” y/n sentenced and Lizzie didn’t want to say anything because this was the first time y/n had spoken since they were back. “I should be apologizing.” 

“Will you?” 

“Maybe,” y/n sighed. “I feel like I would need to do something incredible for him to forgive me.” 

Lizzie frowned. “Why?”

“He was the one who... I don’t know.” 

Lizzie stayed quiet, waiting for an explanation. Y/N didn’t give her one. “Why...If you love him, I just… need to understand this, why did you reject him?” 

“Honestly? I was overwhelmed,” y/n said. “I guess it was the idea of him asking me finally to be his forever that… I don’t know, the night before he had the choice, I asked him to stay. I didn’t want him to leave me the choice, I’ve never been good at choosing. I had told him about it, be my tomorrow, let’s run away….but he was so insistent on wanting me to choose Miguel,” y/n continued. “And then he left in the morning, gave me a note, and you saw me, didn’t you? I was… Defeated. I gave up on him. And I realized… We wouldn’t be us, anymore, you know? We’re both too damaged. We’d only be ghosts.” 

“Well, why don’t you look up for him?” Lizzie suggested. 

“I… it’s hard,” y/n admitted. 

“You always run away,” Liz pointed out. 

“I know,” Y/N sighed. 

“Especially when it comes to Tom.” 

“My point, exactly… I don’t know how not to do that, you know? I was fine before all of this, staying quiet.” 

“Sometimes, y/n, you should be loud,” Lizzie shrugged. “Face your fears and not run to another country.” 

Y/N frowned and then took a sip of the mimosa. “I wanted… I wanted to choose myself, too,” y/n said. “Because I didn’t mean it.” 

“I know,” Lizzie stood up.

“It’s weird, I replay everything he last wrote to me, and…I don’t know if it’s true, because maybe he meant it” 

“What?” 

“Maybe he’s right, we can’t be with each other…” Y/N admitted. “I don’t wanna cry anymore because I can’t stand the sound, and maybe… I wonder, yes, choosing myself means a lot but maybe he’s someone I can’t live without, even if I don’t want him around, and I know I don’t want… Just listening to his name makes me remember about 7 months ago when I ran out of reasons to stay.” 

“Y/N.”

“And I know that after everything we won’t… We won’t simply heal, you know? And now even if I dared to apologize, I know we would be scarred, and it’d bring us to that moment, to each and every moment we broke each other’s hearts. And… I would get it, you know? If he told me he never wanted to see me again, I can’t stand myself either, even my own crying has bothered me.” 

Lizzie listened. 

“Maybe becoming strangers would be fine, even if it’s hard at the beginning, maybe we’ll just be a part of each other’s story. But right now? We’ve run out of things to say, and after a while, we’ll be fine. He will be, and after a while, he won’t need me and I hope that day comes soon, because I hurt him.” 

Lizzie watched her friend and realized that her words were the reason as to why y/n had been quiet. Because she had to think, and y/n worded everything, unlike Tom who had been messy and not thinking about it. Y/N took her time. 

But at the end, their speech and their feelings were mutual. They both knew this was the end. 

“And maybe I won’t need him,” y/n sighed. “But I do, right now. But I need… I need to be by myself, for a while. Miss him a little. Choose myself.” 

 “And that should’ve happened a long time ago, but we both know that choosing yourself also means loving him, and choosing yourself, y/n, also means living up to the consequences, and choosing yourself also means speaking up.” 

Y/N looked away. “Maybe I will.” 

----

Tom had showered with cold water that morning and he had sprayed a nice cologne. He hadn’t slept at all, and he just waited to walk in. He was dressed up,but he didn’t have a nice face. He looked tired and drained. He didn’t want to step in. 

His parents were there to support him, but he knew that it didn’t matter. He had to face this alone. His agent had come, too. She’d be up there with him. He heard it, the room was full. And there was that chair waiting for him, a bottle of water and a microphone. He knew he’d have to speak up first. First say everything he had to say, say everything everyone thought he should say. The speech he had rehearsed countless times in front of his mirror, as he had heard his voice cracking. 

“Ready?” His agent asked him. 

His mom squeezed his hand and he only gave a nod. He felt dizzy. His brothers watched him, and his friends gave him a reassuring nod. This felt like being stabbed. 

Tom closed his eyes and finally walked into the room, and the room moved, Tom felt. It moved, and it roared. People already throwing questions and people snapping pictures. Cameras everywhere. Phones. Mics pointed at him. 

The crowd seemed like only a blind spot, he didn’t stare at them. He didn’t want to see their faces. 

He sat down, opened his water bottle and then fixed the mic for him. 

He took a deep breath as he finally cleared his throat to get everyone’s attention. The room shushed. 

“Good morning,” Tom said, looking down at the table but then finally up. “I… I thank you all for coming and I thank you for giving me a chance to speak up for myself.” 

He sighed. “We… We all know why we’re here,” he smiled cynically, looking down at the notes his agent had left for him to read. “I did something stupid… And I’m here to talk about it, because… I don’t want anyone assuming stuff and I don’t want to face this through the coldness of social media, I think that this is something I should face because if I was stupid enough to put her on the spot like that, I feel like I should be put on the spot as well.” 

Tom looked up and there was a gentle chuckle coming from the crowd.  “Well,” Tom sighed as he stared the notes. “In the past few days, we’ve all seen it, a video of me was going around. Video where I swam back in Mexico to interrupt a wedding and…a video  where I’m rejected.” He looked away, uncomfortably. It was so hard saying it out loud.

“Y/N, that’s… That’s her name. She’s...She’s my best friend, I...I feel like I’ve been friends with her for forever, and I was stupid enough to jeopardize that relationship for a momentary impulsive decision,” Tom said. “I do not blame her at all, for her reaction. And I assume full responsibility,” Tom explained, and then pushed away the notes. “I think it’s fair enough to say I didn’t think it through whenever I did it. I was selfish, I was incredibly stupid and I… was very inopportune. Given the situation, choosing the last moment was very much inadequate. But we’re not here to talk about how long it took me to realize I had feelings for this incredible woman,” he chuckled, dryly to himself. “Which gives me no excuse to ruin her wedding. We were friends first and always, and un-promptly crashing her wedding to tell her what I should’ve told her in private years ago was such an asshole move for me to do.” 

His agent widened her eyes but let him speak. 

 “Friends don’t ruin each other’s weddings,” Tom said. “That’s just simply what it is. It’s the shittiest move one can do, try to stop someone’s happiness. And I think,” Tom rubbed his face. “I think that’s what everyone should understand, I… deliberately stopped it, and put her on the spot and I shouldn’t have. Especially when I know her. I know she’s someone who’d rather get lost through the crowds… Even if, even if she’ll never get lost through it,” Tom whispered. “Y/N is this amazing human being and she’s been judged for something I did. And I ask you all, is it her fault? Was it really her fault that I was an idiot? I beg everyone to stay out of her life. Me? I’m an actor, I know I’m putting myself out there and that’s the price I’m paying, but not her. Because…”Tom took a deep breath. “Because she didn’t do anything wrong. Besides,” Tom turned to see his family and then back at the crowd. “A part of me knew she was going to say no, because that’s… That’s what’s expected,” Tom said. “You don’t expect someone who’s about to get married to ditch their wedding,” Tom rambled, it seemed like he was mostly telling this to himself. “I just want the world to understand this, to see past all of this, I don’t want them thinking she did something wrong. I want the world to know that she’s this incredible woman, whom, yes I happened to fall in love with and whom I was stupid enough to let go in the first place, but who deserves all good things, you know? I guess all I’m trying to say is… Please don’t come and attack her, because if you do, then I know I lost her forever…” He looked at his hands, he chuckled dryly. “She’s not perfect,” Tom admitted. “I know that, none of us are, but she’s… She brought colour to my life, you know? She made my life have a certain sense to it, and I was  the luckiest person alive to have her as a friend, and I am the luckiest person to have his heart broken by her…” He closed his eyes. “In a way, and losing her means losing my sanity for now. And I don’t want that, so with all my heart I beg you, don’t blame her, don’t dare blame the woman I’ve loved the most because I’ve lost her once because sometimes we’re stupid to become unaware that the best thing to happen in your life was sitting right next beside you, and it took me way too long to realize it, and look where it brought me? Talking to people whom I don’t even know about something that I should be keeping to myself.” Tom laughed, cynically. 

“And I know, this is my life,” Tom continued, “But this isn’t her life, she deserves the right to be angry at me, she deserves the right to cry, to be happy, to be whatever she wants to be without being involved in this mess,” Tom said. “I don’t want you guys taking that from her.” 

He finally sat back, defeated. 

His agent took a deep breath as she looked at him, she nodded her head and Tom whispered a yes. 

“I guess I’ll be answering questions now, I…” Tom rubbed his eyes. He pointed at the first person he saw 

“Why did you do it, then?” Someone who was at the front row asked. 

“I’m stupid,” Tom chuckled but then shook his head. “Love makes us do wild things.” 

“You love her, then?” The same reporter asked. 

“I…” Tom laughed. “You think I would’ve done something that stupid if I wasn’t in love with her?” 

A chuckle around the room was heard. 

Tom pointed at another one. 

“Do you hate her?” The reporter asked. 

“I…” Tom shook his head. “How could I, though? She’s been my best friend for years now, besides… I don’t think I could ever hate her.” 

“Even after she broke your heart?” 

“I love her and I respect her decision and I respect her reaction, no, I mean, I’m not jumping for joy for what she did but I understand it and… That doesn’t mean I’m going to hate her. I could never hate her. No matter where she is, who she’s with, what she’s doing I will always truly love her.”

“How long have you been in love with her?” Another reporter asked. 

Tom looked away. “That’s a secret I shall keep to myself. 

“Is she pregnant?” asked a reporter. “There were rumours that y/n is pregnant with your baby sir.” 

Tom felt his stomach jolt, and his whole family was in shock too. The reporters started mumbling. 

“That would… be impossible,” Tom lied as he blushed. “So no, she’s not pregnant with any of my babies. Besides, I think that question very much affects her and I’m not here to talk about her.” 

The room went dense. 

“Were you under the influence of anything? Alcohol… drugs.” 

“No, but it would’ve been easier to explain all of this had I been,” Tom sassed. “Wouldn’t it? Only saying yes, I was very drunk, I’m English I like to drink in the afternoon, sorry.” 

A laugh was heard across the room. 

“Our sources informed us she didn’t get married, were you aware of that?” 

Tom was very aware of that and the thought had been around his head since he knew. Because there was that stupid part of him that still had hope, that wanted to show up to wherever she was and kiss her. 

He cleared his throat. “I was aware.” 

“How do you feel with that?” 

“I’d rather not answer that,” Tom admitted. 

“Have you heard from her fiancé?” Another one asked. 

“I haven’t.” And he didn’t want to hear from him. Tom assumed he was going through hell as well. 

“We reached out for him to give a statement and he said that he saw all of this coming, but that he wished you hadn’t gone to the wedding at all.”

“Did he now?” Tom sassed. He calmed down. “I… I also want to publicly apologize to him,” he corrected himself. “I am very sorry for causing this to him. I… At the end, I think him and me are very alike,” Tom cleared his throat. “Same taste, I guess,” he joked.

The crowd laughed, again. 

“No, but… Um, I’m very very sorry, I was a prick I shouldn’t have said that, no, I am very sorry because if it’s true and they didn’t… I’m very sorry because I also know how it feels to lose her.” 

They turned dense. 

“Have you heard from her?” 

And that question stung. 

“I have yet to hear from her but I assume that she’s taking her time and I do not expect her to reach out for me because I was a jerk,” Tom said. “ I will try to reach for her when things are calmed.” 

“So, Tom, let me get this straight,  you don’t blame her for saying no?”

Tom shook his head. “No, I don't, and I want you guys to understand that,” he sentenced. “Had it been the other way around, you would still be criticizing her. You see it’s—it’s fucked up. Because I know that had it been me the one who had his wedding interrupted, she’d still be the bitch. And she isn’t. She had all the right to say no, because who tries to stop a bloody wedding?” Tom ran a hand through his hair. 

“Well, why did you?” The follow-up question hit Tom.

“I—as I said before. It was a momentary stupid decision,” Tom emphasised.

“Do you regret it?” The reporter continued. 

“I do.”

“Why?”

“Because I lost my friend forever.”

“Were you guys only friends?”

“Yes.” 

“Are you still  in love with her?” The reporter snaked. 

“I’d rather keep that to myself.” 

“At this point you can’t”

“Look, I—Can you blame me?” Tom exploded.  “I’m just a guy, alright? Sure I’m— I’m Tom Holland and sure I am a celebrity... but I’m also a person. I made a mistake and I know it was a big one. I fell in love with my best friend, and I should… I wish I could be able to do that without it being a big deal and having to give explanations. This should be a matter of me and her and no one else.” 

His agent watched him and then pointed at someone in the crowd.

“Mr Holland, even though she acted like an idiot, an asshole and will probably be remembered as—”The reporter started, her voice was familiar to Tom, probably from another press conference. 

“She’s none of those things,” Tom snapped. “Next question.” 

“Oh but she is, Mr Holland, she also has to yet apologize to you, she dragged you to such a mess-” 

“My personal relationship with her shall remain private for now. Y/N has always been someone very private and I have no right on invading that privacy, and you have no right on calling her any names,” Tom was looking down at his table not wanting to look up. 

“Mr Holland, what would she need to do in order for you to forgive her?” The same reporter asked. 

“I don’t have to forgive her, she didn’t do anything wrong,” Tom said and wondered why it was still the same reporter. He didn’t want to look at the girl asking the questions. 

“But, she does want to apologize, for all the pain she’s caused,” The reporter said. “Because she also made the biggest mistake of her life on running away from the love of her life,” The reporter said. 

“Did you guys also reach out for her? Because that seems to be all you guys have been doing,” Tom kept playing with his water bottle. 

“Would you do it again?” The same voice asked, and it tingled Tom. 

“I… what?” Tom looked up to the crowd trying to see where the voice was coming from. 

“Because the right person turned out to be the wrong one, and love turned out to be very very complicated,” The voice continued, Tom tried searching for her in the room because he was sure he was hallucinating. Probably from the lack of sleep. “But this should’ve been easier, and you shouldn’t have come up with this entire mess.” 

Tom couldn’t believe his eyes as they landed on the owner of the voice. 

“Would you stop another wedding to finally be the right choice?  ” The girl asked, her voice was cracking. “Even if she turned out to be the wrong one?” 

Tom couldn’t quite believe his eyes as he stared at her, he felt his whole heart shattering on his chest. He was confused. She was standing right there, with her little notepad, and her tired eyes. He knew that she hadn’t been sleeping and he could tell that she was shaking.

“Yes,” He admitted, looking into her.

“Will she ever be able to read her favourite quote again?” She asked, as her eyes were glazed. 

“Only if she runs away with me right now,” Tom asked. 

And it was with that answer that the whole crowd realized it, y/n was the reporter behind all those questions.

previous chapter next chapter series masterlist wanna be tagged?

tag list   @clairesrainbow @underoosmarvel​​​ @wronglanemendes​​​  @itsvianny​​​   @jake-and-amy-are-married​​​ @starlightfound​​​  @harleenqueenofgotham​​​  @kill-the-stereo​​​ @originalpinkpowerranger​​​ @spidxrparkxr​​​ @mukesnugget​​​ @anxiousdesignerdancerbandlover​​​ @organicpurplepants​​​ @happywolves81​​​  @nedthegay​​ @skylar-mendes​​  @sentimentalquackson  @savannah0111​​​ @spidermansmj14 @soccerstud004​​​ @marinaabernardii​​​ @applenter​​​ @silver-winter-wolf​​​    @dark-infernal-instruments​​​ @claredolphinbear24​​​ @bookgirlunicorn​​​  @tomshufflepuff​​​ @avengersgirllorianna​​​ @nevertoofarfromivar​​​ @saintlavrents​​​ @herofiennestiffinashardinscott​​​.  @tomzfrog​​ @tohollandback​​ @morganhoran1671 @awkwardfangirl2014​​​ @spideysimpossiblegirl​​​  @everythingbooknerd​​​  @xapham​ @xapham​​​ @xxtomxo​​​ @tomhollandisagod​​​ @danicarosaline​​​ @laurfangirl424​​​ @vintageroses1014516​​​ @cinnamon-roll-peter​​​   @the-lost-fairy-tale​​​ @lala-florez​​​ @fufaation15 @healthyassdonut​​​    @ilcveyou3000 @xxtomxo​​​ @socorroann​​ @muffinmari25   @cassindeansass  @rogers-obsessed-barnes-curious​​​ @southsidespidey​​​ @nathaliabakes​​ @nathaliabakes​​​ @marvelstuck​​ @embrace-themagic​​​ @bradfordbantams​​​ @sanniegirl1214​​​ @gioandreolli​​  @peterpandco​​ @fairytaleparker​​​ @underooling​​​ @griff1ndor​​​ @chubby-cheek-calum​​​ @thatweirdomimic​​ @avengersgirllorianna​​​ @reginalaufeyson-holmes @better-daisy​​​ @yeahimcrying​​ @allmonstersxarehuman​​​ @spider-manholland​​​ @clairesrainbow @georiaang @sebxstianbarnes​​ @kissingtrutharchives​​​  @snoopy3000​​​ @prettymessygurl​​​ @spideyparkerstark​​​ @fanfic-4-you​​​ @lexshead​​​ @officiallyunofficialperson​​​ @mannien​​ @stretchkingblog97​​​ @melodiclovesong​​​ @bizzlepotter​​​ @localfangirlx​​​  @xxpeachyxo​​​ @acceptance07​​​ @mendes-fan​ @mendes-fan​​​ @swaggyspiderman​​​ @localfangirlx​​​  @queengemsworld @liberty01​​​ @stiles-banshees​​​ @itsjusttor​​​ @stretchkingblog97​​​ @annathesillyfriend​​ @dangerousluv1​​​ @tomshufflepuff​​​ @thewayilookatbacon​​ @petersdiaries​​​ @emjaywrites​​​ @swaggyspiderman​​​ @infamousmany​​​ @jungeunave​​ @bullshitstars23​​​ @ispiderdudei​​​ @calhtlland​​ @literalfsngirltrash​ @quacksonhq​ 

[emilyplaysotome]

One Year

I don’t know who is still active on here or who follows me, but I felt like I wanted to write something and this is what I wrote. Semi-autobiographical.

Hope you like it.

I open the door to the bar where we said we’d meet. Beyond just running late, I’m not dressed for a first date and instead wear jeans and sneakers and a t-shirt I bought for myself on a trip that has bold letters with the name of the city I was in.

To be honest, I didn’t want to go on this first date. 

It’s not because of you but because there’s too much going on. I’m about to leave again for work and I know how these things go. Even if we like each other I will quickly be forgotten. We will say things like, “This was fun, we should do this when you get back” but in the end the days will pass and we will live our lives exactly as we did without so much as a thought of this night.

Despite knowing this, I tell myself to go because I have nothing to lose and I have said I want to meet someone new. 

I argue with myself that I’ve met plenty of new people the past couple of years, and that it’s unlikely that this one is the one that will be so different but in the end I go out of obligation.

I said yes and I don’t want to go back on my word.

I open the door to the bar where we said we’d meet and I see you. 

To be honest, you take my breath away. 

You are much, much, much hotter than your pictures gave you credit for and you smile at me. I think I must be mistaken because there is no way that my jeans and sneakers and t-shirt and makeup-less face is good enough for you. I turn to see if perhaps there is someone behind me - someone taller and thinner and more objectively beautiful.

But there is not. 

You are smiling at me, and so I smile back and push down the little voice that tells me you are out of my league and join you at the bar.

I am intimidated by your looks and then I find out you are smart, kind, and empathetic.

The conversation flows easily and you reveal yourself to me rather quickly. I feel in control in this regard, as I am quite good at getting people to show themselves. The problem I have with you is that everything I pull out of you is better than the last and I continue to wonder who or what you’re looking for that can possibly meet you at your level.

I worry I am not good enough.

I drink my first drink with my climbing shoes in my tote thinking about the promise I made to my friends. I order another drink with you because you asked and I know that they will understand it if I show up late. I wonder if you’re asking me to have another drink to be polite or if you feel a fraction of what I feel for you.

You seem interested but I have a hard time believing it.

Behind the counter there is a barkeep who keeps interrupting our conversation. We are both friendly to him and in the moments when it’s just us, laugh together, wondering if he knows this is a first date and if he’s playing with us both a bit. You find a way to dazzle me with your intellect, and I feel self-conscious as I take big gulps of my beer wondering if you’ll realize how simple I am.

You speak about the intricacies of how the world works having studied the science that holds it together. I don’t know what to say as I am an artist who grapples with ability to move people with my work. 

You seem to know exactly what to say while I am left wondering if my voice is worth anything these days.

You open the door to the bar where we met and hold it for me as we exit. 

We say goodbye in the subway and I feel disappointed you don’t kiss me but I figure that I will never see you again and make peace with the suspicion I have that you were just being nice to me.

I meet up with my friends who forgive my tardiness and I climb trying not to think anything of our meeting.

That night I think about the day that my old relationship died.

I think about how I was sitting on the couch and how I closed my laptop when he came in. I think about how stunned I was by his ramblings and how I had to ask, “Are you breaking up with me?” before I fully understood what was happening.

I thought about the days that passed, where I couldn’t eat and could barely work and how quickly I lost weight as a result.

I thought about how frightened I was to go on a date on an app and how much fun I ended up having with a man I should have never met. Born on the other side of the world who crashed into my life for three passionate months before disappearing as quickly as he arrived, occasionally letting me know he missed me.

He doesn’t write me anymore.

I thought about the one that followed, who I wanted so badly and who gave me so little. I thought about how he seemed to know when it was I was finally over him and how happy I was to finally be rid of those feelings.

He doesn’t write to me either.

I thought about the man I fell for without his knowledge a few months ago, and who reminded me too much of the others. I thought about how brave I was to break things off, recognizing that he would not be able to give me what I wanted.

I never gave him the chance to write me again.

You send me a text message the next day and I find myself both skeptical and elated.

Looking back I realize how hard it was for you to carve out time for me, but back then I was just happy that you wanted to see me before I left.

I calm myself down before we meet by googling your name. I see a picture of you from a linked in and I tell myself that my memory made you hotter than you are and that you are not some untouchable human that is out of my league.

I remind myself of how far I’ve come and how I will not allow the little voice that questions my worth to ruin our date.

I ask myself what will make me feel strong and powerful and worthy and I don’t wear a t-shirt with letters on it. I put makeup on and do my hair and wear a top that shows my stomach if I raise my arms.

I like the way my stomach looks these days.

I open the door to the bar where we said we’d meet.

You’re not there, so I take a seat at the counter and I make small talk with the bartender. It’s hot and I feel sweaty and annoyed at NYC summer for making it impossible to stay cute.

When you arrive, you are sweatier than I am but you are also much hotter than the picture I found that helped me pretend you were in my league.

“Fuck.” 

I say it to myself when you go to the bathroom and I am alone at the counter with an empty beer, having ordered a second round. I like you so much and I want you to like me and I’m starting to believe that I might have a chance. The conversation this time is lighter and quicker and I can tell I’m still somewhat in control of it. We bounce around and I think, “See. I can keep up with you.” and I hope you like that I can.

At some point I discover your feet are comically wide, and I tease you as if I am a fifth grade boy.

At some point you kiss me and I realize that I actually have a chance with you.

I leave the city for ten days and you write me every single day.

What starts as short, simple texts becomes long letters back and forth. I write them after working for 10 hours each day and they take me about an hour to write, but writing them is my favorite part of the day.

In time, I will find out that they took you just as long to write and that you were talking to another girl at the same time you were talking to me. You had the chance to go out with her but decided you didn’t want to, and I will wonder how it is possible that I found someone who is as wonderful as you.

I will think about all the men I dated who spoke with and slept with and saw other women as they told me how much they liked me and think about how much better you are in every way to them.

When I return you will invite me over and I will go to your place, surprisingly unafraid despite having only seen you twice. I will wonder if we will sleep together and I am surprised when you tell me about your past.

You were married once.

I don’t care.

I was in an eight year relationship once, I tell you.

You don’t care.

We don’t sleep together, and I wonder if it’s because you like me or because you don’t like me enough.

I freak out before our fourth date.

The long messages that bring us closer together suddenly feel oppressive and I find myself scared to reply. I don’t know what to say and I change the subject entirely, trying to restart the thread, removing some of the seriousness of what’s happening.

We’re not “officially” together and yet you’re starting to feel like someone I need around.

I’ve been hurt before.

When I meet you in front of the restaurant, you are a little stiff. It takes a moment or two before we start talking like normal. You tell me that you told your friend about me, and I learn that you don’t like many people but you like me.

I want to be with you.

I invite you back to my place and we drink more. I want to hook up. We do, but nerves get in the way. 

I worry it’s not nerves, but it’s me.

I worry I’m not good enough.

A month has gone by since I met you.

I’ve returned from another job away and you spent the night. I like waking up with you, but I hide my bashfulness by teasing you about your morning routine. I roll out of bed and throw on some clothes whereas you do your hair and put on cologne, etc. etc.

I don’t want you to date anyone else.

I don’t want to date anyone else.

I think this as we walk together in the park with our coffee and I think about how I want to say this. I think about how I want to make space for you to say no because I don’t want to be with someone who doesn’t want to be with me.

In the end the words “relationship”, “boyfriend, and “girlfriend” are completely unsaid and somehow the catalyst for us becoming official is my awkward muttering of, “I’m down if you’re down.”

“I’m down,” you say, taking my hand and laughing at how I’ve managed to make everything clear in the least romantic way possible.

I tease you back but it will take weeks for me to say that you are my boyfriend.

It is not because I am embarrassed.

It is because I am in disbelief that someone like you could actually like me.

Time marches on.

I discover how competitive you are when you play board games.

Your face is a little red, and you are a little drunk when you look at me and ask, “Is it too much?”

“No,” I say, realizing that I love you but not saying it. “It’s not.”

I learn that you prefer the cold and never turn the heat on in your apartment. You are always ordering new gadgets and shirts and things whereas I can’t remember the last thing I purchased.

For a month I bite my tongue, because I know that I love you but I also know that you have not loved anyone and I do not want you to feel pressure if I say it.

You say it one day before you leave to go home for the holiday.

I am so happy you did, because I know that you mean what you say.

I know that love is a big deal to you, and that you are not just being nice.

You mean it.

It has been one year since I opened that door to the bar where we said we’d meet.

I have walked to your place countless times and you to mine as we survived a pandemic together. I have seen you at your best and at your worst, and I love you more now than I did that night when I said it back the first time.

There are still moments when I’m dazzled by your intellect, and moments when I wonder if I’m enough for you.

In those moments I think about the fact that you love me.

Because I know you do.

I believe you do.

The thought makes me I hold my head up high because if you believe I am enough for you, I should be better at loving who I am too.

And as much as I love you, I think I love myself more these days and I love you for that.

[imaginingsoftly]

Begin Again pt 4 - Mackenzie Weegar

Type: friends to enemies to lovers, series

Requested: No

Warnings: standard swearing, angst, drinking

A/N: This series ends here... As always, my requests are open for any one-shots or series’ you guys would like to see!

The house was really too large for just Mack. Becca shook her head as she stepped up to the door, and it opened before she had a chance to knock. “Becs!” Mack smiled widely at her, a gray towel sitting on his shoulder over a black t-shirt. He looked domestic, the picture of a cuddly boyfriend. For just a second, the future that could have been flashed through her mind. Becca shook away that thought as quickly as it arrived and smiled back at Mack. His eyes ran up and down her body once, taking in the snug tank dress she’d slipped on, then her sneakered feet, and then ran back up to where her hair sat loose under an old baseball hat. A small wow slipped out of his mouth, and Becca stifled a giggle. Same old Mack.

He held the door open as she slipped inside, and she smiled inwardly when his hand twitched like he was going to hug her. He held back, probably in an attempt to respect her space. “Foods almost done,” Mack said, turning back towards the kitchen. “You want a drink?” She tried not to stare at his ass as he walked ahead of her, she really did, but he was wearing her favorite jeans of his. They were the jeans she’d insisted he buy that day at the mall, citing something about girls not being able to leave him alone at the bars if he wore them. She wondered if he remembered that conversation, or the ‘I told you so’ she’d thrown at him when two friends competed for his attention the next night. 

“I’d love a beer, if you have it.” Mack shot a smile over his shoulder. Of course he did. He probably had the bourbon-laced stuff that Keith Yandle had gotten him hooked on that one cookout. They’d split cases of that stuff on more than one occasion, and she knew he usually kept some on hand. 

That was indeed the beer he had, and Becca took an appreciative sip as she took in the disaster scene of a kitchen. Mack had tried his hand at ravioli and meat sauce, and there was sauce everywhere. Multiple saucepan lids littered the counters, as well as two different- and smaller- pots and several stirring tools. Yeah, so they’d completed those cooking lessons, but that didn’t mean they were actually good cooks. “So my cooking skills have only gotten a little bit better over the last couple of years.” Mack’s cheeks were red, and he rubbed a hand on the back of his neck while he talked. It was cute, how clearly nervous he was, and Becca took pity on him. 

She shook her head. “It smells amazing, Mack.” It really did. Like the sauce his mother made, actually. Mack smiled as she stepped closer. After his texts, she wasn’t really left with much anger. Just an intense need to be near him. “Can I hug you?” Her request was soft, but he heard it nonetheless. Mack’s eyes widened slightly, like he couldn’t believe she’d asked, but he quickly nodded. Two steps covered the distance between them, and then Mack was right there.

For the first time in two years, Becca felt normal again. Being wrapped in Mack’s arms felt like a comfort even the best chicken noodle soup couldn’t rival. His arms were bigger now, but he still hugged her just tight enough. He still covered one of her shoulders with his hand, squeezing slightly. His other arm still wrapped around her middle like he was trying to meld them together. Becca stood on her tiptoes to bury her face in Mack’s neck, and he pulled the hat off her head so he could do the same to her hair. She breathed in the smell of his aftershave and cologne. The scents were the same as they had been for years, gifts in a boxed set she’d gotten him for Christmas one year. There was no way he still had that set, so he must have gotten more. That thought made her smile.

“I missed you sweetheart. Every day.” Mack’s words, whispered into her hair, broke the spell. She stepped back, and his arms loosened reluctantly. He didn’t let her go completely, though, and his large hands settled on her shoulders. “I’ll plate the food, and then we can talk?” Mack bit his lip, clearly anxious she would storm out again, so she smiled when she nodded. She wasn’t running, not this time, even if listening got tough. 

He took the time to plate the pasta nicely, even garnishing the top with a little bit of parsley. Becca bit her lip to keep from laughing when he did it, though she released the laugh when Mack met her eyes. It felt like old times, only this time Mack wasn’t feeding her a badly burnt grilled cheese with canned Campbell’s tomato soup. “I got my mom to send me the recipe for her pasta sauce. I know how much you love it.” No wonder the smell was so familiar. He sat down in front of Becca at his ridiculously large dinner table and waited for her to take the first bite. 

She tried not to spit it out. He must have misread the instructions for salt, because she was pretty sure the sauce in her mouth was more salty than a mouthful of the ocean. It took an effort, but she swallowed it, though she wasn’t fast enough to stop Mack from putting a bite in his mouth. His eyes bugged as the salt hit his tongue, and that was it. Becca laughed harder than she had in a long time, a wheezing-for-breath, hand-slamming-the-table kind of laughter. Mack spat out the bite, and she laughed even harder. He joined in, and tears streamed down her face. They must have laughed for several minutes, and every time they almost stopped they made eye contact and started all over again. 

Finally, they calmed down enough for Mack to choke out a sentence. “I’ll clean this up. Order pizza?” Becca nodded, not quite trusting herself to talk yet. Mack took the plates into the kitchen, returning with a takeout menu. “The usual?” Becca smiled, and began to dial her phone. The pair had bonded over a mutual love of specific pizza toppings that day in the coffee shop, and it had led to more than one pizza party over the years. She ordered a large pizza from the kid who answered the phone, asking them to pile it high with pineapple, bacon, pepperoni, and olives, just like always. 

Mack was cleaning the kitchen when she got off the phone, and she wordlessly began helping him. They worked well as a team, they always had, and all of the dishes were washed and put away by the time the pizza arrived. Becca settled at the table with the pizza and fresh beers while Mack paid the delivery guy. “You know,” she joked as Mack came back into the room, “you could have just ordered a pizza to begin with and I would have been content.” 

“I wanted to impress you.” Mack’s eyes were sincere when she jerked her head up to meet them, and she softened. Well when he put it that way, she wasn’t going to argue. “So,” he started, “you wanted to talk.” He looked a little scared, and she supposed he had reason to; if she said the word, any semblance of a relationship was over. Mack was honorable enough to leave her alone if she told him to.

Becca took a deep breath. She had been planning this in her head since Mack had sent those texts. “I hate that you didn’t tell me.” Mack began to open his mouth, and she held up a hand. “I’m not going to pretend that I’m not still a little hurt, either. You were my person, Mack. Trying to figure out how to navigate adulthood without you there to lean on was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do.” Mack sat frozen, and Becca wasn’t sure that he was breathing. She looked away, putting her eyes anywhere but on him. 

“The worst part, though? I get it. When I read your texts, I realized you were right. It wouldn’t have been fair of you to ask for me to go with you, and I think if you’d asked I would have. That scares me, Mack. I would have dropped everything and moved across the country if you’d asked me to.” That was the hardest thing to realize. She may have been angry, but if he had asked her to go she would have. “I think if we had gone to LA together I would have resented you eventually, especially if I’d had to stop school, and after experiencing that once I don’t want to think about what could have happened if we’d started something and our relationship went bad later.”

“You went about it really badly, don’t get me wrong, and I’m still pissed you didn’t at least say goodbye.” She paused to gather her thoughts. He couldn’t take all the blame here, not really. “I handled things badly too. I could tell something was wrong when you walked in the door, and I jumped you without a second thought. I should have let you speak.” Mack reached for her hands, and she gripped his gratefully. “Mack, I am so so sorry for not just listening.” 

She stared into his eyes intently, willing her tears to stay hidden and for Mack to see just how apologetic she really was. He stared back, and all she saw was intense love. Their pizza was getting cold from where it sat almost forgotten in the box, but she didn’t care. This talk was a long time coming, and they were both finally in the right state of mind to have it honestly and without malice. 

Mack surprised her by surging across the table to kiss her deeply. One of his hands slipped out of hers to cup her cheek, and Becca leaned into his touch with a small groan. He broke off the kiss just as suddenly as he’d started it, and his eyes were wide as he leaned back. “Shit, I’m sorry. I was gonna ask you before I did that.” His eyes were still wide when she leaned forward, meeting their lips again. Mack stiffened for a half a second before deepening the kiss, and Becca fought a smile. 

“I was hoping you would do that.” Mack grinned when Becca spoke, and she felt a small smile turn up the corners of her mouth. “I’d like to keep kissing you, if you’d be open to it.”

She giggled at the look of bewilderment on Mack’s face. They had a lot to work on, for sure, starting with rebuilding their trust in each other. It would work though, it had to. They’d been moving towards each other for longer than either of them had realized. At some point the universe was going to win. 

“If we do this,” Mack said seriously, “I want it all. I want to date you, for real. I want you to meet my parents again as my girlfriend. I want to finally meet you mom. Everything, sweetheart.” Becca’s heart soared. She nodded in response, and Mack let out a whispered “yeah?” She repeated it back, and his grin was blinding. 

He scooped them out a slice of pizza each, and it was thankfully still warm. Becca groaned at the pull of the cheese as Mack slid a piece onto her plate. This was going to be a good piece of pizza. They hadn’t skimped on the toppings, either. It wasn’t Dominos or Pizza Hut, where you had to ask for extra toppings to get a normal amount. It was a local place, and clearly they knew how to make a good pizza. Mack picked up her plate before she could take a bite, nodding towards the couch. “Peaky Blinders?” It was their show. She probably had most of the script memorized by now, the number of times they’d rewatched the series. Now was a fitting time to begin re-watching it; the beginning of a new chapter, but a return to something established as well. 

They settled into their old routines just as easily as if they’d never stopped, though now Becca leaned a little heavier into Mack’s side and he kept leaning down to kiss her in between scenes. It felt completely normal, but also new. Mack mumbled along with the script in a poorly-faked English accent, and Becca mouthed the words right alongside him. She had the better fake accent, they both knew it, but it was more fun to listen to him butcher it. Mack squeezed Becca’s shoulders when Grace began singing in the bar, and she snuggled deeper into his side.

They watched the entirety of season one that night, and the pizza gave way to Oreos and milk by the time the fourth episode came on. It took almost no convincing for Becca to stay overnight, and she smiled when Mack produced a pair of her sweatpants and one of his old minors t-shirts. He had a spare toothbrush and miniatures of her face care routine sitting in his bathroom as well, and Becca smiled at his memory. They got ready for bed together, settling next to each other over the twin sinks in his master bathroom. 

It wasn’t until they settled under the covers that Becca registered how weird it was that none of that felt strange. This was their friendship before the trade, and honestly? It had always been a little bit more than a friendship. They had been working their way towards this for years. 

Mack pulled her back into his chest with a heavy sigh. “I love you, sweetheart,” he whispered into her hair.

Hearing him say that would never get old. Becca settled into his chest, squeezing the arm wrapped around her middle gently. “I love you too, Mack. Always.”

Normalcy would probably slap them in the face come morning, when it would be time to explain to friends and family what had happened, and Becca almost groaned at the idea of telling John, but that was a thought for the morning. For now, she reveled in the feeling of having Mack’s arms around her again. 

Real life was an issue for tomorrow.

[noladyme]

Skip To My Lou, My Darling - Chapter 5, Bloody Demons II

The road so far…

Lulu is reunited with Dean, when he, Sam and Castiel needs the journal Bobby left her. She lets Dean know that this will be the last time she will see him, as being in his presence hurts her too much. When a phone call from what she thinks is a friend in need, brings her face to face with The King of Hell himself, will she finally have a chance to break her bond with Dean?

Our story continues in season 8

Tag list (Let me know if you want to be added)

@edonaspanca​ @wonderlandfandomkingdom​

II

I made it to Pittsburg in a little over two hours. The bar I’d agreed to meet Tamara at was bustling with people; and I found my friend at the bar, wearing a very skintight dress and leather jacket; and fisting a pint of Guinness. “Drinking on the job, Tamara?”, I grinned. “Not like you!”. She turned around to face me, and her smile was broader than I’d ever seen it. “Lulu! You came!”, she smiled. “Told you I would”, I laughed, and gave her a hug. “So, what’s the deal here? Are we hunting, or drinking?”. “Bit of both, love”, she said. She leaned in close. “Vamps have been picking up girls from this place for a while”. I narrowed my eyes. “So we’re here to…”. “Pick up dates!”, Tamara grinned.

I groaned internally. The last thing I wanted was to play the part of wanton woman on the prowl for man-meat. Tamara caught darkness ghosting my face. “What’s wrong, Lulu?”, she asked. “Nothing… I’m just…”. I couldn’t finish the sentence. “On the rebound?”, she smirked. “Only one cure for that. Drinks!”. She ordered a round of shots, and I took a deep breath; downing the vile – and probably very cheap – tequila in one go.

“Let’s just get this over with”, I sighed. Tamara’s eyes lit up. “Oh! I almost forgot. Brought you something…”. She took my hand, and dragged me towards the restrooms. Once inside, she handed me a piece of flimsy fabric. “What’s this?”, I asked. “A dress…”, Tamara smirked.

I held up the garment in front of me. It looked more like a tank top with a little length to it. “What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?”, I muttered. She raised a brow at me. “You look like a lumberjack”, she said. “Just put it on. Live a little”. I shook my head. “This is supposed to be a job…”. “These bloodsuckers have been going for the easy prey. Girls asking for it”. I winced at her words. The Tamara I knew was strong headed and feminist. “Asking for it?”, I grunted. She shrugged. “Sorry. It’s the alcohol talking”, she smiled. “But you know what I mean. Now come on!”. I slipped in to a booth, and shed my layers; before pulling the dress over my head. “I’m not changing my shoes”, I called out. “Fine, whatever. Combat boots it is”, Tamara laughed. “It’ll give you a rock star quality”.

Stepping back outside of the booth, I put my own clothes into my new bag. Tamara looked over my shoulder. “New equipment?”, she muttered. “Yeah”, I said. “Guess I have a guardian angel”. “Huh…”, she said. “Set me up with one of those, will you?”. I chuckled. “I’m not sure you’d like angels any more than demons”, I said, and closed my backpack; looking at her. Something dark ghosted her face. “Sorry… I didn’t mean to bring up…”. “Forget it, love”, she smiled.

I went to look in the mirror. I looked the part of a woman in desperate need of attention. My breasts were on display, and a small slit on the side of the red “dress”, made it so I could at least walk; in spite of the constricting fabric. “How am I supposed to hide a machete in this?”, I complained. Tamara lifted my hair, and put it in a knot on my head, with a hairband. “You’re not”, she smiled; and opened her jacket to reveal a large knife. “You’re the decoy”. I rolled my eyes. “Great. Thanks for the learning experience, Tammy!”, I sneered.

Tamara pulled out a red lipstick, and turned me to face her; so she could apply it to my lips. “It’ll be just like Ohio. Walk before you can run, love”, she said, wiped a stray smudge of lipstick from the side of my lip. She turned me to face the mirror again. “There we go!”.

The woman looking back at me reminded me of someone I hadn’t seen in a long time. She was myself, before the maren; before countess Erzebet – before hunting. I’d missed her, I admitted to myself.

“What’s this?”, Tamara asked, running a finger down my shoulder blade. I twisted my torso, and looked at where she was pointing. “My tattoo?”, I smiled. “Would have thought you had one… it’s an anti-possession tattoo”. Tamara pulled her hand away from the symbol. “Oh… yeah, I should think about getting one of those”, she smiled. “Let’s go! Leave your bag in here”. I put my phone and the car keys into my bra – along with Sam’s number, for reasons I wasn’t sure of yet. It just felt right. We left the restrooms, and went to sit down by the bar. “Now?”, I muttered. “Now, we wait”, Tamara said; scanning the room.

A short man wearing way too much cologne came sauntering over to us. “Hey…”, he smirked, bobbing his head to the song coming from the speakers. “I’m…”. “Not interested”, Tamara said. I sent her a look. She shook her head. I looked at the guy. “What she said”, I shrugged. He walked away, tail between his legs. “Can you tell me what I’m supposed to look for?”, I said. “Someone colder”, my friend said. “Vamps are usually paler, and don’t smell like the cheap aisles of a drugstore”. “Okie dokie”, I muttered.

We sat for a while longer, before suddenly, Tamara pushed me between my shoulders. “Plump up the puppies”, she muttered. “We got one”. A tall, dark man had stepped into the bar. If ever I’d seen a vampire tv-show; this guy looked like he’d stepped right out of the screen. Tamara pushed at me. “Go chat him up!”, she hissed. “Tammy!”, I almost whimpered. “I’m not gonna…”. She patted my bottom. “Yes you are. Go!”.

I took a deep breath, and began walking towards the man. His eyes narrowed, and he seemed to be scanning the room; before his eyes fell on me. His lip twitched into a sly smile, and – swallowing hard – I returned the gesture. He walked over to me, and grabbed my hand. “Hi…”, he said with a deep voice. “What’s your name?”. “Uhm… whatever you wanna call me”, I tweeted. He leaned in close, to whisper in my ear. “Guess I’ll call you Honey then. How does that sound?”. I felt bile rise in my throat. “That sounds… hot”, I smiled. “What’s your name?”

The stranger pulled me out onto the floor, and slipped his hand behind my back; holding me against him, and swaying back and forth. His hand was so cold; and I shivered when it touched the bare skin on my back. “Does it matter?”, he smirked. “I like to know who I’m dancing with”, I said. I looked back at Tamara, who was giving me the thumbs up. She grabbed her phone from her pocket, and called up a number. She hadn’t told me we’d have partners, but at the moment, I was very happy we wouldn’t be alone. This guy gave me all sorts of creepy feelings. “Call me… Patrick”, he said, and dipped me. “Swayze?”, I fake giggled. He pulled me back up. “Sure”, he smirked.

We swayed back and forth a while longer, until suddenly the song changed. God, please not this one, I thought; when a sad guitar began playing. “Lying on your arms, so close together. Didn’t know just what I had…”. I cleared my throat. “I really hate this song”, I croaked. Patrick leant down again, and put his mouth dangerously close to my neck. “Do you want to get out of here?”, he said. “Sure?”, I said; my voice breaking. “I should probably tell my friend I’m leaving”. He looked into my eyes. “Go ahead, honey”, he smirked.

Prying myself from his grasp, I walked back to Tamara. “He wants me to leave with him”, I said. “Good!”, she smiled. “Go on. I’ll be right behind you”. “What? Are you crazy? I’m not leaving with him without my weapons!”. Tamara grabbed my shoulders. “You’re doing great, Lulu. I’ve got you, ok? Trust me!”. I blew out a deep breath. “If I die, I’m coming back to haunt you!”, I sneered. She rolled her eyes, and pushed me back towards Patrick.

Hooking my arm into his, we left the bar. Once outside, the chilly air hit me; and I shivered. “You cold, honey?”, Patrick asked. “A bit”, I said. “Should we take my car?”. “Sure”, he winked at me, and I led him over to the rusty Dodge. I got behind the wheel, and Patrick entered beside me. “I got a place a few miles out”, he said; his face suddenly dark. “Ok”, I said.

I looked out the rearview mirror, and saw Tamara exiting the bar, and halting to speak with a man I hadn’t noticed before. He was only a little taller than her, and seemed a bit to well dressed for a hunter. Tamara seemed perfectly at peace with his appearance though, and simply smiled in my direction; pointing at my car. The well-dressed man looked towards me; and his lips drew back in a large grin.

“Let’s go, honey”, Patrick said; and I started the car, driving us off the lot, and down the street.

---

We made it to a house a way outside town. The windows where dark; and when I stopped the car, my hands where shaking. “You look good enough to eat”, Patrick smirked. His hand found my knee, and squeezed it. “We should… go inside”, I said; and quickly got out of the car.

Where are you, Tamara?, I thought to myself. Patrick put his hands on my hips, and led my up to the front door. He turned the knob, and we stepped inside. In an instant, I was pressed against the wall, and Patrick slammed the door shut. He nuzzled my neck with his nose. “Smell so good”, he growled. “That’s nice”, I croaked; regretting every move I’d made since the moment I stepped out of bed the morning before.

Grabbing my arm, Patrick pulled me into what seemed to be a living room; though decked out like a ridiculous boudoir. I looked around, desperate for anything I could use as a weapon. Patrick smiled menacingly at me; before his lips drew back, and he revealed a second set of teeth. “Oh, crap”, I choked.

Suddenly, the door flew open, and Tamara came running in. “Lulu!”, she yelled. Patrick was distracted by the sudden change in his plans, and as he looked at her, I kicked him in the groin; making him topple over. “Kill him!”, I yelped. “Not yet!”, she said. “Where are your friends?”, she hissed at the groaning vampire.

There was a slamming of doors, and the sound of feet running throughout the house, and suddenly we were surrounded by five more hissing vampires. “All part of the plan?”, I snarled at Tamara; as we took a stance, back to back. “Please tell me you brought my stuff!”.

“She brought something better”, a gravelly voice said. The well-dressed man stepped into the room. He looked at the vampires. “One, two, three, four, five… six. Perfect!”, he counted, and clapped his hands together. He snapped his fingers, and what looked like black smoke filled the room – separating into six parts, and entering the mouths of the vampires.

The vamps all shook themselves, and Patrick got up from the floor. “What’s happening?”, I muttered. “What’s happening, is my best invention to date!”, the man laughed. “Vampire-demons. I can’t believe I never thought of this before… Thank you, Tamara”. I turned around, and looked at my friend. Her eyes where charcoal black. “You’re welcome, my lord”, she smiled.

I took a step back; falling into the arms of Patrick. “Tsk, pet. Where are you going?”, the man said. “We’re not done here”. Patrick pulled my head back, and leaned towards my neck. “Hungry…”, he hissed against my exposed skin. He was much to strong for me to get away from; and I was sure this was the end. “Hold up, Pat”, the man said. “I’ll serve you a nice dinner later. For now, me and this lovely lady need to have a conversation”. Patrick pushed me forward with a snarl, making me jump.

“Who are you?”, I croaked. “What are you?”. “Right… you’ve never actually faced one of us before”, the man said. “Name is Crowley. I am a demon”. I swallowed hard. “What did you do to Tamara?”. Crowley stroked my friend’s cheek. “Tamara is still in there. Struggling something fierce”. He slapped her hard, but Tamara didn’t wince. “I had one of my favorites possess her”. “She’s too strong for that”, I croaked. “Fight it, Tamara!”. “Cute”, Crowley smiled. “Not convincing”.

I slowly walked towards Tamara, and stroked her cheek. Her black eyes widened, and she grinned at me. “Oh, that feels nice, love. Keep going”. I sighed deeply, and let my lips tremble, as if I was about to cry. Demon-Tamara tilted her head and pouted – distracted just long enough for me to grab the knife from the inside of her jacket. “What do you think you’re going to do with that, pet?”, Crowley asked. I elbowed Tamara in the face; and shoved the knife into his chest; taking a step back, when he didn’t even flinch. “Rude!”, he growled. “This is Armani!”. He pulled the knife out. “You can have this back, when you behave”.

“What do you want with me?”, I asked, my heart in my throat. He smiled again. “It’s nothing, really. A mere trifle”, he said. “The Winchester’s have something of mine. I want it back”. I sighed. “Let me guess; you’re gonna use me to get to them”. Crowley laughed. “Sounds like you’ve been here before, hmm? I’ve heard they have a tendency to drop everything and come running, whenever you have a hangnail. What does Dean see in you?”. He gave me a once over, pausing at my chest. “Right… that”. He met my eyes with a slight smirk.

I decided to play his game, and rolled my eyes. “Ok. Tie me up, poke me with something sharp; whatever it is you guys do”, I said. “Well, you’re no fun”, Crowley frowned. “Couldn’t you at least… scream a little? Plead for your life? I mean, I made all these vampire-demons...”. I shook my head. “Too much effort”, I said. “I mean, I’m shaking in my boots, don’t get me wrong – but I know how this ends”. “And how is that?”. “Well, you torture me for a while – then Dean and Sam show up and fight you…”.

Crowley laughed. “It’s like you read my mind!”, he said. “Ok, let’s call them”, I croaked. “Just like that?”, the demon asked. “No Please Mr. Crowley, don’t kill my sweetheart?”. I swallowed hard, and looked down. “No? You two aren’t…?”. “It’s not like that”, I whispered. Crowley raised his brows. “Well, if I had a heart, it’d be breaking for you right now… What happened? Really, tell your uncle Crowley, pet…”. My façade broke, and I slapped him across the face. Crowley simply raised a brow at me. “That tickled”.

Suddenly I was on the ground, Crowley’s hand on my throat – squeezing hard. The demon-vampires all looked down at me; baring their extra set of teeth. “Now, you call Moose and Squirrel, and tell them to bring back my tablet; or I’ll snap this pretty neck faster than they can say where’s my flannel”. I nodded as fiercely as I could under his grasp, and reached slowly for my phone, and the note with Sam’s number. I dialed it up.

“Sam’s phone. Who’s this?”. It was Dean’s voice. “Dean…”, I rasped. “Lulu… What’s wrong?”, he demanded. I almost laughed. “Take a wild guess…”, I said. Crowley was starring into my eyes intently. “You’re in trouble”, Dean growled. “Surprise…”, I muttered. “What is it?”, he said. I looked at Crowley. “Hi, Dean!”, he said cheerily. “You’re friggin’ kidding me!” “You have my tablet. I have your girlfriend. Let’s make a deal”. “Now you listen to me, you son of a…”. “He’s not on speaker”, I said. “Too busy strangling me… and possibly serving up as dinner for a group of vampires”. I heard things being thrown around. Dean was pissed. “This isn’t the time for jokes! You’ve got the King of Hell with his hands around your neck!”. My jaw dropped. “The crossroads demon?”, I whispered. My eyes began flickering. Crossroad demons made deals.

Crowley’s eyes widened, and his lips drew back in a wide grin. He snatched the phone from my hand, and got off me. “Hello, Dean…? Yes, yes, I’m a son of a bitch, I know. I’ve met my mother. Now listen… No… Stop talking. I’ve reconsidered. Kevin, the tablet; I’ll have those soon enough. I have something much more fun in mind for now… Yes, exactly… Why? Because it’ll piss you off!”. I stood up from the floor, and began backing away. Patrick grabbed a hold of me again; putting his teeth to my neck. “Hold that thought”, he said into the phone, before putting it to his chest. “Lulu, love. Don’t go anywhere. We’re not done”. He lifted the phone to his ear again. “Yes, I’m still here… No. She’s fine. She’ll stay fine. At least the next 10 years. Don’t worry… Yes, you can have her back”. He handed me the phone. “His voice is so deep when he’s angry”, he winked at me.

I put the phone to my ear. “Lou, don’t do this”, Dean pleaded. “I don’t… Maybe he can end it”, I croaked. The teeth of the vampire were scratching at my skin. “He can’t!”. “If he can’t, the deal will be off. I’ll be fine”. I looked at Crowley, who nodded in agreement. “This isn’t the way. We’ll figure it out. Please!”. Dean was almost whimpering. I blew out a deep breath. “When this is done, you won’t care if I did it”, I said. “I won’t matter to you anymore”. Crowley narrowed his eyes at me. “I can’t live like this”, I whispered. Crowley pouted in mock sympathy. “Where are you?”, Dean asked. “I’m… I’ll see you soon”. I hung up.

Crowley clapped his hands together. “Right! What is it?”, he asked. “Pat, let the lady go. She’s not a meal… yet”. Patrick pushed me forward with a growl. “An std? A few more inches for Squirrel…?”. I frowned. “Oh, is he impotent?”, the demon said, grimacing. “No…”, I said. “I want…”. “Yes, yes, come on. I don’t have all day!”, Crowley sneered. “I want you to break our bond”, I said. Crowley looked confused. “What’s that supposed to mean?”. I swallowed hard. “I was made for Dean… To be his. Angels put me on earth for him”.

The demon suddenly let out a roaring laugh. “You think you were put on this planet to be with Dean?”. “Yes…?”, I whispered. “It’s too… perfect. I’m his perfect companion. Our feelings aren’t real”. Crowley rolled his eyes. “Well you are perfect for him. You’re just as daft as he is! Give me that…”. He stepped over to me, and snatched the phone from my hand; hitting redial.

“Come one, come on… Yes, Deano! It’s Crowley again… Could you stop cursing and turn down your car radio, I can hardly hear my own thoughts… Right, deal’s off. She asked. Can’t help. Get me my stuff, or I’ll kill her… Pittsburg… Yes, exactly… Toodles!”. He hung up, and handed me back my phone. “Now, we wait”.

---

I was tied to a chair. Tamara was filing her nails on a couch against the wall; and the vampires were spread throughout the house – waiting for Sam and Dean to show up. Crowley paced the floor in front of me; taking phone calls from who I guessed were his minions.

Suddenly the door flew open, and the brothers ran inside; guns at the ready. Dean’s face was locked in rage; but when he stepped into the room, he wasn’t looking at Crowley with said expression – he was looking at me. Tamara sprang from her seat. “Hi lads!”, she grinned. “Long time, no see”. “She’s a demon”, I croaked. “Still alive inside”.

“Let them go!”, Dean roared. “No”, Crowley said; hanging up on yet another bloody wanker. He put a hand on my shoulder. “First; my things”. “You think we’d bring it here?”, Sam said. “Well, it’s simple. Then I kill the girl”, the demon said, and put a hand on the top of my head, and the other on my chin; as if to break my neck. My heart jumped into my throat. “Crowley!”, Dean snarled. Crowley leaned in to whisper in my ear. “Almost makes my knickers slide right off when he uses that voice”, he smirked. “Now, where is my tablet?”, he roared.

Patrick and his friends entered the room, and surrounded us. “I’m done waiting, boys. And so are my lads here”. The vampires bared their teeth, and let their eyes turn black. “What the hell is this?”, Sam yelled. “My best idea yet!”, Crowley snickered; letting go of me. “Vampire-demons! Aren’t they just the cutest thing…”.

The Winchesters both looked flabbergasted. “Oh, come on!”, Dean growled. “Vamp-demons?”. Crowley almost giggled. “I know. Sometimes my wit even surprises myself”, he said. “Now… my tablet. Give it over, and I’ll let it be quick”.

I knew I’d be dead within seconds if I didn’t act. “I know where it is”, I said. Dean narrowed his eyes at me. “It’s in a bunker”. Crowley let go of me. “Atta girl! Where’s this bunker?” “Lou!”, Dean growled. I shook my head. “It’s over, Dean”, I said. “I’m not dying for your cause”.

Crowley went to stand in front of me, narrowing his eyes. “Where, pet?”. “I’ll take you. But you have to promise to let me go afterwards”, I croaked. “You have my solemn word as a gentleman… or, whatever”, Crowley said. “Patrick. Untie her”. Patrick loosened my restraints, and I stood up. “There’s a good girl”, Crowley smiled. “Lads, you hold down the fort here. But no dinner until I return. I want to watch”. “We’ll take my car”, I muttered.

Dean’s eyes met mine. His gaze was pained. “You can’t do this, Lulu”, Sam said. “Sam… don’t. This is my decision”. “Please, Lou…”, Dean pleaded. I looked at him with hard eyes. “I have to let him get in that driver’s seat”. It was a strange sentence, but I hoped Dean would let it lie. He looked at me questioningly. “Bye, boys”, Crowley called over his shoulder.

Once outside, I opened the door to the driver’s seat for Crowley, and he got in front of the wheel. “Ugh, I hate driving lefty… Keys?”. I took a step back. “I have them”, I said. “Well, get in and give them to me”, the demon demanded. “No…”, I responded. “No…? What are you talking about? Get in the bloody car, or I’ll drag…”. He tried to step out of the car again, but couldn’t. I crouched, and pointed at the ceiling of the Dodge. The devils trap I’d made with a marker over the driver’s seat, was still there. “I hope you know how to hotwire a car; because that’s the only way you’re getting anywhere…”, I said; and closed the door on the cursing Crowley. Grabbing a bottle of water from the trunk, I went back to the house. Crowley was banging the window; the demonic seal apparently making him unable to break it.

I went back into the house, and into the living room. Sam and Dean where in the process of being tied up by the vamp-demons. Tamara looked at me. “What?”, she snarled. “Crowley wants you to come”, I said quietly; sending Dean a look. He narrowed his eyes at me. Tamara rolled her black eyes, and followed me to the porch.

“That’s a really ugly car”, she grunted, and began walking down the steps from the porch. I opened the bottle of water; and poured it over her. “Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio infernalis adversarii, omnis legio, omnis congregatio et secta diabolica. Ergo, omnis legio diabolica, adiuramus te”, I said as quickly as I could, and black smoke left Tamara’s body; making her slump to the ground. I crouched over her, patting her cheek. “Please, Tammy. I need your help. Wake up!”, I whispered.

Tamara’s eyes blinked, and she looked at me. “Is it gone?”, she rasped. I let out a relieved sigh, and pulled her into my arms, hugging her tightly. “It’s gone”, I croaked. “But we’re gonna have to fight. Are you up for it?”. Tamara’s lips drew back in a snarl. “Hell yeah!”, she said. “Weapons?”. My eyes searched the area; and I smiled, when I saw a black Chevy Impala parked a little way down the road. “I know where to get some…”.

We ran to the Impala, and I opened the trunk, lifting the false bottom. “Bloody jackpot!”, Tamara smiled. We each grabbed a machete along with some bottles of water. I picked up a knife as well. “What’s that for?”, Tamara asked. “You’ll see”, I muttered. She grimaced in confusion.

I walked back to the Dodge, and opened the door to the driver’s seat. “Let me out of here you sodding… Ow!”, Crowley snarled, as I stabbed him again; before pulling the knife back out. “What was that for?”. I looked at the bloody blade. “Your vessel. He’s dead, right?”, I asked. “Of course he is!”, Crowley hissed. “Great. Bye, your majesty”. I slammed the door in his face. “Let’s go”.

We snuck back to the door. “Remember the exorcism I used?”, I whispered. “I taught it to you, love”, Tamara smirked. “On three…”. I put my hand on the doorknob. “One… two… three!”. We sprang into the house, threw water at the monsters holding the Winchesters captive; and chanted in unison.

“Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio infernalis adversarii, omnis legio, omnis congregatio et secta diabolica. Ergo, omnis legio diabolica, adiuramus te!”

Black smoke poured out of the vampires. The beasts all looked confusedly at each other, before snapping their necks in Tamara’s and my direction. “Dinnertime, boys”, Patrick yelled.

One of the vampires sprang at me, and I slashed the machete across his torso. He instantly toppled over, rattling in pain; and I cut his head off. Narrowly escaping being taken down by another vamp, I threw myself towards Sam and Dean. “Lou, what are you doing?”, Dean yelled. “Saving your ass!”, I snarled, and cut the ropes holding him to the chair. “Here”. I handed him the knife, and slashed at another vampire trying to get me from behind. He grabbed my ankle, and pulled me to the ground; but Tamara cut his head clean off – spraying me with blood in the process. “Thanks”, I gasped. Dean cut Sam free, and they joined us in our fight. “Get out of here!”, Dean growled. “Hell no!”, I yelled, and got on my feet.

“Four left!”, Tamara yelled. One of the vamps was heading for the door, but I made it over to him just in time to cut the back of his knee; making him fall to the ground. The last thing he saw, was my face as I hacked his head off. “That’s two for me”, I grinned. “Leave some for me, Lulu! I only got the one”, Tamara laughed. I heard a crash as Sam pushed one of the vamps to the ground. He held the snarling monster down. “A little help?”, Sam yelled. “All yours”, I said to Tamara; who ran over, and cut the thing’s head off. Dean snatched the machete from Tamara, and quickly decapitated a vamp coming at him from a dark corner.

The house was silent. I looked around. “There was six of them”, I said. Dean looked at me; his eyes suddenly widening. “Lou, behind you!”. I twirled around; only to be caught by the neck, by none other than Patrick. “Hi, honey”, he smirked; before pulling me into his arms, and biting into my neck. The pain was excruciating, and I yelped out in pain - dropping my machete on the floor.

“No!”, Dean roared, and ran towards us. Patrick pulled his head back, and turned me around to face my friends. “Don’t!”, he snarled; my blood dripping from his mouth. “I’ll kill her”, he warned. Tamara went to step forward; but Sam held her back. I looked at the knife in Dean’s hand, and then at Tamara. She nodded, and snatched it from him – throwing it into the air. I caught it by the blade – feeling it cut into my stitched-up hand – before pushing it into Patrick’s side. The vampire laughed. “That won’t kill me, honey”, he said. “No, but the dead man’s blood on it will”, I rasped.

Patrick began letting out choking sounds, and loosened his grasp on me. I put my hand on my bleeding neck, and stumbled forward – Dean catching me in his arms. Sam walked up to Patrick, and cut his head off.

I let out a deep breath. “Ok… It’s over”. Dean gave me an angry look. “Try that again…”. I looked down, and pulled myself from his arms.

“Are you ok, Lulu?”, Tamara asked; and came over to examine my wound. “You did great, love!”. I smiled blushingly. “Thanks… I guess my vampire cherry is popped”. “Sure is”, she smiled. She looked up at the brothers. “Good to see you two again”. “Thanks for the rescue, Tamara”, Sam half smiled. Dean nodded at her with an insincere smile. “Yeah. Thanks for that, Tamara”. He made a point of shoving the brit his gratitude – not me. “Let’s get out of here”.

We went back outside. I was exhausted, and almost stumbled down the stairs. The door to the Dodge was open, and the seal on the ceiling of it was scratched at. Somehow, Crowley had gotten away. “Crap”, I muttered. Sam crouched down, and looked into the car. “Good thinking, though”. “Sam!”, Dean growled. “Lulu, get in the car”. I sighed, and went for the front seat of the Dodge. “Not that car”.

Tamara frowned at him. “Who do you think you’re talking to, Winchester? This girl just killed three vampires on her first hunt for those bloodsucking buggers!”. “I’m talking to the girl who almost sold her soul to the king of Hell!”, Dean snarled. “Stay out of it”. Tamara laughed sarcastically, and began rolling up the sleeves of her jacket. “Oh, I should…”. “It’s fine, Tammy”, I sighed. “I can fight my own battles… but thanks”. “You’re gonna let some boy talk to you like that?”, she sneered. I shook my head. “No, I’m not. But he has something of mine, and I want it back”, I said. “I’ll tear him a new one afterwards”. “If you don’t, I will”, she snapped.

I pulled her in for a hug. “I need to go back with them”, I muttered. “Thanks. For everything”. “No, thank you! Call me”, Tamara said. I handed her the keys to the Dodge. “Thanks. Might even make it back to my own car in it. The thing looks like it’s falling apart”. I kissed her cheek, and she got into the driver’s seat; turning on the engine, and driving away.

---

“What the hell were you thinking?”, Dean roared at me. “Demon vampires?”, Sam snarled. “You’re lucky Tamara was there!”. “She was a demon too, remember?”, I muttered. “I saved her ass, just like I did yours”.

The whole drive back had been quiet; and I felt like a teenager who’d missed curfew. We’d gone by the bar, and Sam has slipped into the ladies room to grab my bag for me; as I was covered in blood, and might freak people out. I was now seated – freshly showered, and once again stitched up and bandaged – in the library in the bunker; getting a verbal ass-whooping from both the Winchesters; while Castiel stood in the archway – sending me chiding eyes.

“You could have died!”, Sam yelled. “Worse; you could have gone to Hell!”, Dean growled. “Your soul, Lou? Do you have any idea…?”. “It’s my soul to do with as I want”, I said. Dean looked at me with enraged eyes. Sam’s gaze softened. “Lulu, you’re family… This wouldn’t just affect you”. “I’m sorry…”, I whispered. Sam sighed. “I’m gonna get back to Bobby’s journal; so you can get it back”, he said; and disappeared down a hallway.

I sighed, and shook my head. “I just wanted…”, I began “To get rid of me?”, Dean croaked. “Do you really hate me that much?”. “You know I don’t… that’s the problem”, I said quietly. “You know what? Cut the crap, Lou!”, Dean snapped. “This thing between us, angelic intervention or… whatever! You don’t make deals with demons”.

“What do you mean, angelic intervention?”, Castiel interrupted. I looked at him indignantly. “Cass, you know what we’re talking about”, I said. “This bond between Dean and me. It’s crap!”.

I stood up, and went to leave the room. “I’m gonna go get some rest. Let you finish your research”. Dean grabbed my shoulders, and held me in place. His eyes were welling up, and I felt my own tears approaching. “Listen… I’m letting you go”, he croaked. “Even though everything inside me is screaming for me, to hold on to you; because you’re mine. I’m letting you walk, because that’s what you want…”. “It’s not!”, I whispered. “I want to be here. I want to stay with you… But it’s not real!”.

Castiel walked over to us. “I don’t understand why you both keep saying that”, he smiled. Dean looked over his shoulder at the angel. “Stay out of this, Cass. You already said you couldn’t help, so just… don’t. Your kind has done enough to mess up this thing”. Castiel sighed. “I can’t help; because what’s between you has nothing to do with angels. I don’t even think a cupid hit you”. I looked at him, my breath bated. “W-what do you mean?”, I stammered. Cass raised his brows. “I didn’t understand before just now… You think Lulu was created for you”. Dean let go of me, and turned around. “She was… wasn’t she?”. I heard the angel chuckle. “Angels didn’t put you two together, Dean”, Castiel said. “Happenstance and probably lust did that. Maybe even love”. “So you’re telling me what we had… was real?”, Dean asked. “I think what you have is real”, Cass responded.

A jolt went through my body, and I suddenly felt cold. Dean turned to look at me; his eyes wide. “It’s real”, he breathed. I stumbled backwards, and ran out of the room, and down the hall. “Lou!”, Dean called after me.

My heart was beating so hard, I was convinced I could see my chest jump. It was real. All this time, I’d wasted it. This was why Crowley wouldn’t make a deal with me. “Lou, please, stop!”. I turned to face Dean’s pained face. “I’m… This is my fault… All this time…”. I shook my head. “Dean, I can’t…”, I whispered; tears streaming from my eyes. “Please… I did this to you. To us. I filled your head with lies that I made up myself, because I was arrogant…”. He let out a defeated breath. “I’m so, so sorry, baby…”.

“Years…”, I whimpered. “I wasted years I could have had, being happy…”. “Without me in your head, having a real life. I know”, Dean croaked. “No”, I shook my head. “With you, Dean”. I took a step forward. “I wanted you, all along. And it was real”. “You shouldn’t…”, he began. “But I do. Me – my own decisions, no manipulation – I want you”. Dean looked down; and my heart fell into my stomach. “But… You don’t want…”. Dean almost ran over to me. “I do, baby. I do”, he said; and his arms were around me.

I began sobbing for real. “Please, Lou. Don’t leave me. Don’t walk out of my life again”, Dean whispered into my ear. I turned my head, and looked into his eyes. “Give me a reason to stay…”, I said.

Suddenly, Dean’s lips were on mine. All that pent-up emotion – those intense feelings – they were all ok to have, because they were my own. And I let go; allowed myself to feel them, as my lips parted, and I breathed in the man in front of me. The scent of him overtook me, and my knees almost gave in, when Dean suckled at my lower lip. He tore himself from our kiss, and looked at me with pleading eyes. “Can I please take you to my room, now?”. I couldn’t answer; so I just nodded.

Dean grabbed my hand, and led me down the hall, to room 11. As soon as we were inside, he slammed the door closed; and his lips were on mine again. “God, I’ve missed you”, he breathed against my mouth. He shed his shirt, and I stepped backwards; suddenly strangely self-aware. Dean was about to lift the hem of his t-shirt, but stopped himself, when he saw my face. “I… We don’t have to”. “No. I’m just…”. I swallowed hard. “What if I’m not that girl you first met anymore? I’m different, now…”. “So am I”, he smiled softly. “Hell. Purgatory… all that crap. It changed me. I think the thought of you was part of what pulled me through…”.

I sat down at the foot of the bed. “That’s just it”, I said. “You’ve been remembering that first-grade teacher, who danced on a table to the Ramones. Who didn’t know anything about vampires or ghosts… And who didn’t hunt”. Dean blew out a deep breath. “I’m… I know things are different for you”, he said. “And that’s my fault. I got you into all of this stuff”. “No… I’m in this life, because I want it. You’re so dead set on me living a normal life”, I sighed. “That’s the girl you want. But this is the woman I am”. I gestured towards the bandage on my neck, covering the wound from the vampire’s bite.

Dean stood for a while, seemingly having an internal conversation with himself. “Well, I guess that’s the woman I’m going to have to get to know”, he concluded. “But that amazing girl, who sassed me even when she thought I was a fed… The one who got drunk, poked my ass, and called it firm”, he chuckled. “The girl who danced with me to a song that’s become kind of a guilty pleasure to me… That’s still you as well. And I think the woman is just an improvement on her”.

I blushed, and looked down. “Well, it was firm. Your jeans were tighter then, so I don’t know about now”. Dean laughed. “And there’s that smart-ass mouth again. She’s still there”. I stood back up, and walked over to him; putting my hand on his cheek. I narrowed my eyes, and looked into his. “And you still have nice eyes”, I whispered; before getting on my toes, and putting my lips to his again. Deans arm slid around me; holding me flush against him. I ran my hand up his chest, and relished in the shivers I could feel going through his body.

With a firm hand on my hip, Dean backed me towards the bed; and as it hit the back of my knees, I fell backwards. Dean leaned over me; but before our lips could meet, I tugged at his t-shirt – wanting it off. Dean obliged with a smile. His body was more toned than I remembered it being. Years of hunting and fighting had made Dean leaner – with sharper edges, and more scars – but no less gorgeous.

Sitting up on the bed – my feet still on the floor – I let my fingers trace over a slight scar down Dean’s abdomen. “Lamia”, he muttered. I traced another, down his forearm. “A friend… in Purgatory”. I pulled myself backwards on the bed; and Dean followed. With a knee between my legs, he was once again over me, kissing my lips softly; and pulling at my tank-top. I lifted my arms, and let him take it off. His eyes glinted from the sight of my mostly bare torso; up until he saw the tulpa scar again.

Dean ran his thumb down the mark; and while I was delighting in the sensation of him touching me again, I saw darkness ghost his face. “I’m ok”, I smiled. “I hate that you go out there unprepared… You don’t know what you’re doing”, he grunted. “Tell that to the three vampires I killed last night…”, I said. “Now, do you want to fight, or do you wanna take my pants off?”. Dean couldn’t help but smirk. “Well, that’s an offer I can’t refuse…”, he muttered.

Running his hand from my ribs, to the waistline of my jeans; he opened the button, and pulled down the zipper – instantly sending electricity through my warmth from his mere proximity to it. I let out a short breath, as his fingers hooked into the fabric, and he pulled my pants down – stopping, when he realized I was still wearing boots. I laughed as I kicked them off; and Dean smilingly completed his task – getting rid of my socks while he was at it. Then his face darkened again.

“What’s that?”, he said, and gestured towards a ragged scar on my thigh. “The leviathan…”, I muttered. His eyes widened. “The Pete leviathan?”, he almost growled. “He did this to you?”. “Yeah, right before I cut his head off”, I whispered; feeling a bit exposed in my undress, with an angry looking hunter towering over me. “Dean, you’re starring… and not in a way that makes me feel very sexy…”. His gaze softened. “Sorry”, he muttered, and sat down on the bed next to me. “How did you get out of that alive?”. I smirked. “Dumb luck”, I said. “I was washing the floors of the bar, when Pete came in; asking me to come back to Kansas with him… Then, his feet started melting, and I ran up the stairs, for my sword. When he finally came up after me, his feet were halfway gone, and he wasn’t moving very fast – so I just slashed, and his head came off… Adrenaline, I guess”. Dean grunted. “But he still got you”, he said. “Just the one cut”, I smiled. “I had a local vet stitch it up”. Dean let his index finger graze the mark. “They did a bum ass job out of it”, he muttered. I rolled my eyes. “Considering getting a tattoo to cover it up”, I said. “Yeah, you need one of these”, Dean retorted, and pointed towards his own anti possession tattoo. I grinned, and turned around – showing him the small tattoo just next to my bra strap. “This one?”, I jeered. Dean ran a hand down his face, and shook his head in defeat. “You’re something else”, he smiled.

I grabbed his hand, and pulled him down to lay with me. Dean put his one thigh between mine; and the friction between his jeans clad leg against my core, made me gasp slightly. He smirked at my reaction, and grabbed my thigh gently; pulling it around his hip – and pressed against me. I whimpered softly, and put my hand behind Deans head, to pull him in for another kiss. I ran my tongue over his upper lip, while he suckled at my lower one. I felt Deans beginning erection press against my thigh, under his jeans; and slid my hand down his back – over his taught muscles – and hooked my thumb into his waistband; pushing down. Dean got the message, and lifted himself off me; opening his jeans, and taking them off.

Hooking my leg around Deans, I invited him back between my thighs; and he returned to his former position – pressing his thigh against my core. With his face in the crook of my neck, he began nibbling at my neck on the opposite side of the bite-wound – probably leaving hickeys. “Marking your territory? What are you, 16?”, I giggled. “You taste nice”, Dean breathed against my neck. “And that vamp got to bite you. Why shouldn’t I?” He grinded his thigh against me, and I whimpered again. He let his lips, teeth and tongue travel down my neck, and across my collarbone. I swayed my hips to rub against his leg, and he chuckled softly. “I like that I can still do this to you”, he muttered. “And I love that it’s because you really want to”, I breathed; and pulled his face up to kiss him again.

Our almost naked bodies entangled in this manner, was heavenly. Deans soft skin covering his firm muscles, so close to mine – it was as if we were built specifically to lay like this, together. But we weren’t built for it; which just made it so much better. It was just perfect all on its own.

Kissing Dean deeply; my tongue demanded access to his. Dean didn’t take much convincing, and with a stifled moan, he brushed it against mine. I tried to pull him all the way on top of me, but Dean shook his head – continuing to press his thigh against my covered folds. It was as if he knew something I didn’t. Putting his hand on my breast, he squeezed it for a moment, before pulling down the cup under it – giving him access to my nipple. He rolled it gently between two fingers, sending shivers down my spine, and pulsating jolts straight from it, to my core.

I used all my strength to move my one leg, so that Dean would be all the way on top of me, between my thighs; but once again, he shook his head – and tweezed my nipple a little harder. “Please…”, I pleaded against Dean’s lips. He used his free hand to hold my leg in place. “Not yet”, he breathed. “Like this. I wanna see you…”.

He pressed is flexed thigh even harder against me; and began moving back and forth. He wanted me to come undone on his leg – without any skin to skin contact on my folds. The sensation was frustrating, and yet amazingly pleasurable. I wanted to feel him inside me, but all I got was this rubbing; this intense and hot friction.

Dean’s lips left mine, and he looked at me intently, as my breath grew ragged; and the warmth in my vagina grew into a pulsating fire. He put one hand around my back – grabbing on to my shoulder to keep me from pulling away from his leg – and the other dug into my thigh; forcing it to stay around his hip. “Move, baby. Don’t stop”, he demanded in a soft voice. I ground my hips back and forth, desperately – and suddenly the coil in my lower abdomen snapped; and I came against his thigh, with breathy moans and squeals.

Coming down from my high, my whole body almost shivering from the orgasm along with the frustration of not feeling like I actually finished properly; I looked pleadingly at Dean. “That wasn’t fair…”, I whimpered. He looked at me confusedly. “You didn’t…?”. I was still shaking. “Obviously, I did… But I wanted you inside”, I said quietly. Dean chuckled. “Baby, you think I’m done with you? I’m making up for lost time, here”, he smirked. “That was just prep-work…”.

I attacked his lips with a fervor, pushing him to lay on his back. Straddling his waist, I opened my bra, and took it off – throwing it over my shoulder – and earning a pleased smile from the man between my legs. “Touch me”, I breathed. Deans eyes widened, and his hands found my breasts – pushing them together, and massaging them. He looked at me like I was a delicious piece of pie he couldn’t wait to chow down on. As he ran his thumbs over my nipples, I carefully moved my bottom backwards; and felt his hardness against me again.

Dean drew in a short breath, when I began moving my hips back and forth on top of him – grinding against his penis, over his boxers. He moved his hands down to my hips, and tried to get me off him, so he could take off his underwear; but I just smirked, and shook my head. “Not so fun, when the tables are turned, is it?”, I said. “Lou…”, Dean said warningly, as he raised a brow at me. “You’re playing with fire here…”. “Am I? I thought I was playing with your…”.

Suddenly I was on my back again; and Dean pulled off my panties, and his own boxers. He laid down between my legs, and looked at me intently. “I don’t wanna play anymore. I just want you”, he breathed. I smiled, and nodded.

With a hand around his member, he positioned himself against my entrance; and pushed himself inside me with a muffled moan. For a moment we just laid there; looking into each other’s eyes. “Can I say it now?”, Dean breathed. I swallowed hard. “Only if you mean it”, I croaked. His brows furrowed, and he put his hand on my cheek, stroking my cheekbone with his thumb.

“I love you”, he said. My breath hitched. “I love you too”, I whispered; and our lips met in a soft kiss.

---

[anubislover]

Welcome to the Heart Pirates, Nami-ya chapter 11: Dinner with Dr. Heart Stealer

As the clock struck seven, Nami critiqued her outfit in the mirror; a strapless little black dress that hugged her curves like a glove, gold stiletto heels, black thigh-high stockings, and the tourmaline jewelry she’d bought from the seller in Tokken. She even used the hairpins Law had gotten her to clip back the left side of her hair. She finished off the look with some dark red lipstick and gold smokey eyeshadow, giving herself an elegant but sensual look.

“Getting all dressed up for the captain?” Ikkaku teased from her bed. The engineer was thumbing through the romance novel she’d caught Nami with, and though it wasn’t her usual thing, had decided to give it a shot. After all, it had managed to entrance the usually energetic navigator for hours, and she had some time to kill before Ladies Night.

Brushing some gold highlighter over her cheekbones, Nami scoffed. “Please, I’m getting dressed up for you. Law’s just a lucky bastard who benefits due to scheduling.”

“I’m flattered,” she said with a wink. “Though I’ll understand if you ditch me to take him back to the nearest inn so he can rock your world. I mean, I won’t be happy, but I’ll understand.”

“Ok, I gotta ask—have you ever slept with Law? Because you’re always vouching for his sexual prowess…”

Ikkaku immediately made fake gagging sounds. “Oh, hell no! That’d be like fucking one of my brothers! But I have talked to some of his past lovers, and they all seemed pretty damn satisfied. Something a girl like you deserves to be.”

Hip jutting out and eyebrow raised in challenge, Nami replied, “How do you know they aren’t lying? Maybe he’s terrible in bed but they’re all too scared to speak ill of the Surgeon of Death, especially to one of his fearsome subordinates.”

The grin said subordinate graced her with was nothing short of salacious. “Because if he were bad, Drake wouldn’t keep coming back for more, even though Law pisses him off so much.”

Nami bit her lip to hide her grin. “Ok, fair point. Also, I want the inside scoop on that relationship.”

“If Law doesn’t give you the dirty details himself, I’ll happily fill you in,” she replied, sniggering. “Bet they’ll give you better fantasies than whatever’s in your books!”

Pink rose to the redhead’s cheeks as her eyes briefly darted to the space under her bed. Nami had shoved Ikkaku’s scandalous box to the very back corner to hopefully never see the light of day again. She dared not throw them out; she doubted Ikkaku would take kindly to it, and knowing her, would probably present her with something even more embarrassing in retaliation. “By the way, as much as I hate your stupid ‘gift’, thanks for not spilling that to everyone. At least, not directly.”

“I thought about it but figured the sex toys would be just as funny without the guys prying into your hobbies. Most of them have enough tact to keep them from teasing you about a dildo, but I doubt they’d show the same restraint if they found out you were into erotic novels.”

“You just want to lord my guilty pleasure over me, don’t you?”

“How’d you know?”

“I have a sister, remember?”

“Ha! Good point. I’m guessing she teases you about this stuff?” she asked, pointing to the book.

Chocolate eyes rolled in exasperated fondness as she played with her bracelet. “All the time. It was annoying, but I guess I appreciated it, in a way. It was one of the more normal things we could talk about, given how screwed up our situation was.”

“Because of the pirates holding your town hostage?”

“Yeah,” she replied, debating on whether she should elaborate. Finally, she added, “I was kind of an outcast among the townsfolk because I made sea charts for the captain. My sister was the only one who knew it was against my will, and that I had made a deal to raise money to buy the village back. Or at least, they all pretended not to know so if I ever decided to give up and run away, I wouldn’t feel guilty.”

“You know, I’m beginning to understand why you have so many trust issues,” Ikkaku quipped, though her eyes were sympathetic.

“Believe me, it was way worse before Luffy came into my life. If we’d met a year ago, I would have already betrayed you and stolen the ship and all the treasure on board.”

“You could try, but the Boss would kill you. He loves this ship and he does not take threats to his crew lightly.”

“I’ve noticed,” Nami deadpanned, adjusting her bodice. It was a sweetheart neckline, which nicely accented her generous bust, had enough support to keep her from spilling out. Such a thing was extremely necessary, given the low back of the dress. Not long ago, she would have been nervous wearing something so daring around Law, but she was still leaning on the theory that he had a weird fetish for modest clothing. If she was right, showing this much skin would act as a repellant.

“He wasn’t too rough with you, was he?” Ikkaku asked, genuinely concerned. “I mean, he can get intense—”

“Oh, he was absolutely terrifying, and I’m pretty sure he was ready to start removing body parts if I hadn’t been having a panic attack, but honestly? I’d still choose him over Arlong.”

Before Ikkaku could ask any questions, there was a firm knock on the door. Grabbing her new purse and slipping into a leopard print, fur-trimmed coat, Nami nodded at her roommate. “Promise me a 9pm rescue?”

“Hmmm, only if I don’t get too caught up in this book,” she teased, cracking it open. “I mean, you did say there was some pretty intense eye contact to look forward to.”

Blushing, she shot back, “You laugh, but chemistry like that can be more intense than any make-out scene.”

“Says the virgin.”

Choosing to ignore the jab, Nami yanked open the door and was met by Law’s cocky smirk. To her surprise, he wore a tailored white suit with a black dress shirt, which brought out that extra little bit of olive in his skin tone. His polished black dress shoes gleamed as brightly as his earrings and the thick, gold chain around his neck. A heady, musky scent tempted Nami’s nose, and she realized Law’d chosen to wear some kind of cologne. Oddly enough, his white fur hat and tattoos didn’t seem as out of place as when he’d dressed up on Tokken Island; perhaps it was because this wasn’t a disguise, or the color was just far more complimentary to his trademark accessories. He looked slick and dangerous, but also at ease—a criminal on a night off.

Damn it, he looked even better than he had at the gala.

Leaning against the doorframe, Law’s grin widened at her perusal. “Do I pass inspection, Nami-ya?” he purred, giving her his own approving once-over.

Gold eyes locked with hazelnut as Nami cocked her hip. “Considering how you haven’t told me where we’re going, it’s a bit hard to judge. For all I know, you’re underdressed.”

“We’re going to a jazz club I frequent, so even if I showed up in jeans, they’d let me in—especially if I have a beautiful woman on my arm.”

“Flatter all you like, Law—you’re not getting out of footing the bill.”

Never breaking eye contact, he gave a little mock bow. “Of course not. A gentleman always treats on the first date.”

“I don’t know you’re more wrong about; that you think this is a date, that there’ll be more than one, or that you’re anything even close to a gentleman.”

“I think I proved myself at the gala. I was on my best behavior, wasn’t I?”

“Maybe in public, but the second we were alone, you went right back to being a bastard.”

A low whistle interrupted their banter, and Nami turned to see Ikkaku wiggling her eyebrows suggestively as she meaningfully glanced between them. “You know what, Nami? You may have a point with that ‘intense eye contact’ thing.”

Cheeks inflamed, Nami grabbed Law by the arm and dragged him down the hallway before Ikkaku could say anything else. As she felt the captain’s intense gaze burning into the back of her head, she silently wondered if a free dinner was worth it.

XXX

The outside of the jazz club was far from impressive—in fact, the entrance was a nondescript wooden door against a plain brick wall, its only ornamentation a faded bronze knocker and a number “8” nailed at the top. Nami was positive she would have walked straight past if Law hadn’t led her to it, pausing to quickly rap three times with his knuckles, then four with the knocker.

After a moment, the door opened, and they were greeted by a young woman dressed in a short skirt and tailored red vest. “Captain Trafalgar. So glad you could join us tonight.”

Law gave a lazy, familiar grin as he wrapped his arm around Nami’s waist. “Always a pleasure, Akari. Is my usual booth ready?”

“Of course, sir,” she replied, ushering them inside and leading them down a narrow, winding staircase.

As they stepped into the lounge, Nami’s eyes widened in surprise. The bland building façade hid a much more elaborate interior; everything from the bar to the floor to the wall panels were made of mahogany or cherry wood, with ruby red cushions, upholstery, and carpets. Red and gold lamps provided just enough light to see by while giving the place a sensual, mysterious ambiance.

At the far end of the room, low couches formed a semi-circle around the small dance floor in front of the stage, where various instruments and music stands awaited performers. Currently, the stage’s sole occupant was an older gentleman playing a soothing tune on the piano. There were a few larger tables scattered about, but most of the seating appeared to be small booths in the walls, their openings framed by red velvet curtains. Several were occupied by canoodling couples, and it didn’t escape Nami’s notice that a few even had the curtains drawn.

Akrai led them to an empty booth, and Law graciously helped Nami out of her coat, handing it to their hostess to hang up before sliding comfortably into his seat.

“Wow,” Nami said, taking it all in. Their seating arrangement was cozy but not claustrophobic, the velvet cushions that padded the crescent bench wonderfully plush. A gold lamp hung above the round table, allowing her to more easily peruse the embossed menu. Appetizers ranged from shrimp cocktail to deviled quail eggs, while entrees featured grilled seafood, roast duck, and steak. The drink list was extensive with an assortment of sparkling wines, cocktails, hard liquor, and even absinthe.

“I figured you’d approve,” Law replied smugly, lounging back in his seat. “And I told you I wasn’t underdressed.”

“I guess not. How’d you hear about this place?”

“It’s an establishment that first started in the North Blue—Prohibition Island decided it wanted to outlaw alcohol, among other ‘sinful’ things. The club’s owner was an entrepreneur from the West Blue, so she knew a thing or two about setting up businesses under the government’s nose. The original club became successful enough to branch out to other islands, and eventually made its way down the Grand Line.”

“I wouldn’t expect Grimm to ban alcohol,” Nami replied, brow furrowing in confusion. An archipelago that catered to pirates and other scum, which had a thriving black market and a brothel on every corner, but outlawed alcohol? The very idea was baffling.

Head shaking, Law chuckled, “Oh, it doesn’t, but Haiko-ya felt the atmosphere suited the clandestine aesthetic. This just happens to be a place where you can get quality booze and not worry about someone spiking your drink. She’s a criminal, but she has standards far higher than most of the island’s establishments.”

“You sound like you know her personally.”

He shrugged but gave a mysterious smile. “She’s Kimo-ya’s wife, actually. Considering all the business I do with her husband, she was happy to give me a lifetime VIP membership.”

A wave of paranoia sent a shiver down Nami’s spine. “What if she sells us out to Jinzo?”

“She won’t. She hates the man’s guts to an impressive extent. Hell, if she’s here tonight, she’ll probably give you special perks for ending up on his shit list.”

By that point, a young man in a red satin waistcoat appeared, smiling at the pair pleasantly. “Welcome back to Ruby 8, Captain Trafalgar. My name is Hansuke, and it’s my pleasure to serve you tonight. What can I get you to drink?” he asked, flipping open his notepad.

“I’ll have a neat whiskey,” Law said easily.

“A Sour Sunrise for me, please,” Nami said, pleased to find an orange juice-based cocktail. She flashed Law a catlike grin as she added, “And a bottle of your best champagne.”

“One glass or two?” the waiter asked, glancing at Law for confirmation.

“Two,” Law replied, smirking at Nami. “In fact, make sure there’s another bottle ready for when we finish the first one. We’re celebrating, after all, and I intend on giving my woman an unforgettable evening.”

“I’m not your woman,” she growled, but was ignored by both men.

“Of course, Captain Trafalgar,” Hansuke said with an eager nod. Men looking to impress were men who spent a lot of money, and if he did well, he might just earn himself a hefty tip. “Are you ready to order your meals as well, or do you need more time?”

“I know what I want,” said Law, barely glancing at the menu. “I’ll take the grilled salmon with the house salad.”

“I’ll have the orange duck, and can we also get a basket of rolls for the table, please?” Nami asked the waiter sweetly, fluttering her eyelashes for extra measure.

The young man nervously glanced between her and the scowling Supernova, clearly debating which one was better to please.

“I…let me check with the chef—I think he said something about running out,” he squeaked out before sprinting off.

“That was cruel of you, Nami-ya,” Law rumbled, fixing her with an annoyed glare, though sadistic humor twinkled in his eyes. “I told you, I’m a regular here. They know I despise bread and will decapitate anyone stupid enough to bring it to my table.”

With a huff, she crossed her long legs and flipped her hair haughtily. “Killing a waiter isn’t a great way to impress a girl and will definitely get you banned from any self-respecting restaurant—VIP or not.”

“I wouldn’t kill him—you forget, my powers allow me to cut a man to pieces and still keep him alive.”

“You should seriously still be banned.”

“They’ve served far worse patrons than me, and they know I’ll be on my best behavior and fill their pockets with plenty of belli so long as they don’t intentionally piss me off.” Lips turning up in an amused grin, he continued, “I’d say it’s a lesson you could stand to learn, sweetheart, but half the time I find your petty acts of defiance charming.”

“Does that include the sunburn I gave you?”

“No, though I did enjoy everything you did to distract me from it.”

The waiter returned to their booth with their drinks and a small tray of assorted meat and cheeses, smiling at Nami apologetically even as a drop of sweat trickled down his face. “I’m so sorry, miss, but it seems we’re out of bread this evening. Not so much as a crumb can be found. Please accept this complimentary charcuterie board with the house’s sincerest apologies.”

Annoying as it was that Law had the staff wrapped around his finger, she took pity on the poor man and gave an understanding smile. If the Surgeon of Death really was a regular at this place, she couldn’t blame him for not going along with her game. “Oh, this is just lovely! Thank you so much!”

Hansuke’s relief was palatable as he set down the tray and their drinks before running off to fetch the champagne.

“See? It’s things like this that keep me from getting too mad at you,” Law chuckled, popping a cube of cheese into his mouth. “I haven’t gotten a free appetizer since that time a new waiter insisted I’d ordered breadcrumbs on my salmon.”

“So, you tolerate me so long as I get you free stuff?” Nami quipped, taking a dainty bite of a slice of ham. It had a surprising fruity note and practically melted in her mouth. She’d have to tell Sanji about it. Hell, even Luffy might appreciate it, assuming he took the time to chew.

She swallowed a bit more harshly than she’d intended when Law leaned across the table, long fingers lightly stroking her elbow as he murmured, “I put up with your antics so long as you make it worth my while, Nami-ya. Keep that in mind next time you’re tempted to pull one of your little pranks.”

Despite pulling his hand away to pick up his drink, Nami could still feel tingling sparks dance across her skin. It really was ridiculous how a brush of his hand invoked that reaction. She was supposed to be more composed than that—a wily thief that didn’t mix business with pleasure—but while his overt come-ons could be annoying, his subtle touches and inviting glances still managed to tempt her. “Fine, but the fact that you’re willing to literally take someone’s head off over bread is way more childish than my ‘little pranks’,” she grumbled into her cocktail.

Whether Law heard her snarky comment or not, their conversation was briefly interrupted as the waiter appeared with the champagne, popping the cork and carefully pouring the bubbly liquid into a pair of elegant crystal flutes. “The sous chef has received your order and will of course be making it himself, Captain Trafalgar,” he said. “If you need anything else in the meantime, please, don’t hesitate to ask.”

“Thanks,” he said breezily, sipping his whiskey. “What time is the band scheduled to start up?”

“In less than a half-hour, sir. They’re currently on their dinner break, but I can ask—”

He waved him off. “I’m in no rush, and I’d rather they be at peak condition while performing. I don’t need my evening ruined because one of them fainted onstage from hunger.”

“Of course, sir. Regardless, I’ll inform them you’re in the audience. Anything else?”

“Time alone with my date would be ideal,” he replied in a clipped tone, raising an eyebrow meaningfully.

Nami could see the way the young man shivered at Law’s glare, and he skittered like a mouse back to the kitchen, wisely leaving the bottle behind.

“And you call me cruel,” she stated blandly as she savored another piece of ham.

“I’m all for attentive servers, but the constant sucking up was getting old.” Trying some of the meat for himself, he glanced at her appraisingly. “But enough about him. You’re a far more interesting subject.”

She frowned, brow furrowing suspiciously. “Am I?”

Linking his fingers and leaning his elbows on the table, he smirked. “Of course. Despite being on my ship for nearly three months, you’re still a mystery. A puzzle with so many missing pieces that I can’t yet visualize the total picture.”

“I could say the same about you,” she said, remembering the confusion she felt as he ran off the day before. “We’re both complex people who play their cards close to the chest.”

“That we are, but yesterday proved that a lack of communication between us can be detrimental to our working relationship, not to mention your health. I promise not to pry too much, and you don’t need to give me all the details, but I expect honest answers.”

Much as she wanted to argue, Penguin’s advice stopped her. The first mate was right; everyone had baggage, but how were people supposed to know her bugbears if she didn’t tell them? As worried as she was that a man like Law would be willing to exploit her weaknesses, he also had a point regarding how their communication issues had nearly gotten her killed. Even if it drudged up unpleasant memories, this was a necessary talk for the sake of side-stepping further unpleasantness. “Fine. I’ll open up—just a little—if you will.”

Resting his chin on his knuckles, Law took a minute to mull over his first question. “Tell me, Nami-ya, how’d you get the name ‘Cat Thief’, anyway? Rumor has it it’s been your moniker since well before the World Government issued your bounty.”

Taking a deep breath and a steadying swallow of her Sour Sunrise, she replied, “My…first captain was always comparing me to a kitten. Guess it was his way of praising me despite my species, since he saw humans as the lowest of the low.”

“Odd opinion.”

“Not for a Fishman.”

Leaning back against the plush velvet cushions, Law unlinked his fingers and munched on another piece of cheese. “Ah. A backhanded compliment. Better than a human, but still little more than a pet.”

“That about sums it up,” she said, pushing down the image of Arlong’s patronizing smile. God, some days she’d hated his condescending approval more than his disgusting hatred for her species. It made her feel dirty, being someone that a monster like him could admire.

Law rubbed his goatee thoughtfully. “No wonder you had such an extreme reaction to me calling you ‘kitten’. I’ll try to avoid it in the future. Still odd you’d adopt a feline signature, though.”

Shaking off her former captor’s vindictive smile, Nami shrugged, buying time before replying by nibbling on some cheese, even though she barely tasted it. “Guess it was a little out of spite; I wanted to take the word back and feel like I had just a shred of power. Didn’t really work, but it was still a good nickname for a thief.”

Perhaps he sensed her discomfort, but Law gently nudged the topic towards safer waters. “Fair. Shachi was the one who came up with ‘The Surgeon of Death’. Bit over-the-top, but I like it. Iconic, and definitely strikes fear into the hearts of my enemies.”

“Sounds like something from a comic book,” she scoffed as she finished her cocktail, moving on to the champagne. She knew she wouldn’t get drunk, but the bubbles tickling her palette would be a pleasant way to keep her mind from slipping into the past. Even without the meds in her system driving her towards panic attacks, she knew nothing good could come from dwelling too long on what Arlong had put her through.

“Like I said, it was Shachi’s idea. He was worried the Marines would give me something lame, so he and the crew went out of their way to mention it in every port we stopped in until they had no choice but to put it on my wanted poster.”

“I’m sure Drake had his own suggestions on what to call you.”

Law chuckled smugly, looking far too proud of himself. “Oh, I’m sure he did, but those posters are seen by the general public, so anything he’d propose would have to be censored. It’s probably why Eustass’ moniker is just ‘Captain’; either that or it’s a lame form of overcompensation.” His grin grew even more devious as he added, “First time we met, I deliberately acted like Killer was the captain, just to piss him off.”

Despite herself, Nami had to giggle. She’d only met Eustass Kid briefly, but he’d seemed the type to not take an insult lightly. With the highest bounty of the rookies, he was certainly someone she wouldn’t want to mess with. “You’re an asshole with a death wish, aren’t you?”

Law shrugged, knocking back the rest of his whiskey. The humor in his eyes dimmed. “Perhaps I do, just a little bit. I didn’t expect to live past the age of thirteen.”

“Why?” she asked curiously before she could catch herself. “If you don’t mind me asking.”

Face cast in shadow by the brim of his hat, he tersely replied, “I was a sickly child. My father was the best doctor in the providence, but even he couldn’t come up with a cure. Didn’t help that the world believed it was a contagious disease, so we had no outside help. I only survived because of the Ope Ope no Mi.”

“Your father must have been happy about that, at least.”

“He was killed years before I got my hands on it.”

“Oh. I’m so sorry.” Her heart clenched at the thought. A dead parent before the age of thirteen. Wasn’t that a painfully familiar story? “Well, I’m sure he’d still be happy you survived.”

He shrugged again, watching the bubbles in his champagne flute pop to avoid meeting her sympathetic gaze. “He’d be disappointed that I became a pirate instead of following in his footsteps.”

“Maybe, but I think he’d accept it so long as you’re alive and happy. Bellemere was a Marine, but while she wouldn’t approve of her daughter becoming a pirate, she’d support my decision because I’m free and working towards my dream of drawing a map of the world.”

As he finally looked at her, Nami caught Law’s lips briefly twitch upwards. “I suppose we’ll never know, but it’s a pleasant fantasy, at least.” He gave a mock toast. “To the parents who wanted better for us.”

With a wry smile, Nami clinked her glass to his, the pair gulping down the sparkling wine just as their food arrived. Digging into her meal, she appreciated both the delicious flavor of the duck and the blessed break in the heavy conversation eating allowed.

Talking to Law about her past was far different from Luffy. Nojiko had informed her before they left Cocoyashi that her stubborn captain had opted out of hearing her backstory when she’d offered to reveal it. At first, Nami’d been offended—what, had he thought her reasons for betraying the crew and faking Usopp’s death didn’t matter? But then she realized that, even without knowing who Arlong was or what he’d done to her and the villagers, Luffy had still gone after him.

All because that bastard had made his navigator cry.

As they’d sailed for Loguetown afterwards, Nami had pulled Luffy aside one night, sat him down, and told him everything. Not because he needed to know, but because a man like that was someone who deserved to know. Deserved to know the awful things she’d endured and done to survive. Why he’d found her mutilating her shoulder, cutting off that awful tattoo. Why she was so grateful he’d destroyed that room and all of the charts she’d toiled over for eight years. Why his refusal to give up on her had meant the world to the distrustful thief.

For his part, Luffy had listened quietly, occasionally nodding his head to show he was paying attention, an unusually patient and serious expression on his face. When she was finished, he’d clapped her shoulder, gave her that carefree, goofy grin, and simply said, “Now I’m really glad I punched that jerk!”

Law wasn’t like that. While he didn’t pry, he did ask questions, clearly seeking those missing puzzle pieces he spoke of and not taking her answers at face-value. Admittedly, they had been pretty bare-boned, but it highlighted the difference between the two captains—Law sought to understand because he didn’t fully trust her. Luffy didn’t need to understand, because he trusted her from the moment she’d refused to fire a cannonball at him.

Looking at Law’s nearly-finished plate, she had to suppress a giggle as another difference between him and Luffy hit her—his chewing habits might have left something to be desired, but at least he knew not to eat the fish’s skeleton.

Noticing his companion’s attention had returned to him, Law took a sip of champagne as he considered her. “You mentioned your ‘first captain’. I’m assuming this wasn’t Mugiwara?”

Nami sighed, setting down her fork to drink from her own glass, hoping the sharp beverage would wash away the foul taste talking more about Arlong would inevitably bring. “No. Before Luffy, I served as the cartographer for another pirate crew for eight years.” She deliberately didn’t mention she was an officer—it was easier for people to accept she was a prisoner when it didn’t sound like she was in a position of authority. Perhaps that was why Arlong had “promoted” her, even though she had no real power among the Fishmen. “He…his crew invaded my village when I was ten and made everyone pay for the right to live. Bellemere only had enough money to save her own life, or mine and Nojiko’s.”

“And, of course, she sacrificed herself to protect her children.” Law shook his head, and for a moment, Nami swore she saw a wince of pain, but the amber light made it hard to tell. “Eight years…I know captains who recruit kids so they can brainwash them into loyal subordinates, but he killed your mother. I doubt you joined him willingly, after something like that?”

“Believe me, I didn’t,” she growled. Hands shaking slightly, she instinctively grabbed her knife, holding it like the dagger she’d used to fake Usopp’s death and destroy her tattoo. “Working for my mother’s murderer was nothing short of torture. Day and night I drew maps for him until my hands bled, barely allowed to sleep or eat. And all the while he acted like he was doing me a favor, since cartography was what I loved most in the world.”

The word DEATH entered her field of vision as Law covered her trembling hand with his own. The warmth was comfortingly familiar at this point, and she felt her white-knuckled grip on the cutlery slacken. “Don’t worry; I do believe you,” he said softly, catching her gaze with his own. His expression was soft and concerned—similar to the way he’d looked at her last night in the infirmary. “You’ve shown yourself to be loyal to those you care about, and we’ve all done awful, painful things for the sake of survival. And I have to say, you may actually have a stronger will than me—I doubt I would have lasted a week serving the captain who murdered someone I held dear.”

“Yeah,” she said, breathing deeply, willing herself to calm down. Law’s thumb rubbing little circles across her knuckles was surprisingly helpful with that. It gave her something to focus on; to ground herself instead of letting the memories take over. Rough as the callouses from his swordsmanship and hard life at sea were, they were still so much smoother than the sandpaper-like skin of a shark Fishman. So blessedly human. “I guess…I guess you were right, though; if you’re not strong enough to protect yourself, you’re the property of someone who was strong enough to claim you.”

“I know I’m right, but I wish I weren’t. I’m assuming this first captain of yours has something to do with your dislike of my uniform?”

“You could say that.” She sighed, jerking her chin towards her left shoulder, the faint scars beneath her swirling tattoo barely visible in the dim light, but neither had to see them to know they were there. “One of the first things he did was have me branded with his Jolly Roger to make sure I couldn’t run off. So the whole world would know I was his property.”

Much like Penguin, Nami could see the dots connecting in Law’s mind. He’d recognized right away that the scars were self-inflicted, but now that he knew what had once been in their place, he could deduct why she’d caused herself such grievous harm. She felt his fingers tighten around her own, first in anger, before easing into a comforting squeeze. With forced calm, he said, “Considering how often Fishmen and Mermaids are sold as slaves, it was probably just as much a petty form of revenge. Still, I guess that explains your objection.” Frowning, he rubbed his forehead beneath his hat with his free hand. “Look, I can’t promise you’ll never have to wear the uniform again. Like it or not, it really is the easiest way to keep you safe.”

Deep down, she appreciated his apology and understanding, even as she inwardly groaned at the thought of wearing the beige jumpsuit. “It also made me a target,” she argued. “Drake wouldn’t have looked twice at me if I’d been in my normal clothes.”

“Please, Drake-ya reads the news and would have gone after you regardless of what you were wearing. He’s smart enough to recognize a dangerous alliance when he sees one, or at least an opportunity to get a leg up. Pitiful as your bounty is, getting his hands on a lone Straw Hat, especially one who was able to rob a former Marine Intelligence officer’s mansion, would be quite tempting.” A wide, predatory grin stretched across his face as he leaned forward, resting his chin on his fist as he leered at her. “Though, personally, I think he was jealous that I’d found a new redhead to play with.”

Nami snorted, the tension in her back loosening. Creepy as he was, Law was smart, steering the conversation away from the past and the world’s speculation on their partnership to something they could casually fight about. “Are you kidding? I think he was relieved; with me around, he doesn’t have to deal with you bothering him anymore.”

“If that were the case, he wouldn’t have tried to abduct you.”

“In case you’ve forgotten, he was trying to ‘rescue’ me; Drake’s a real gentleman, unlike you,” she quipped, taking a condescending sip of her drink.

“Oh, yes, a real gentleman who kidnaps and threatens to sell off unwilling women,” Law replied sarcastically.

“Better than a pervert who makes a girl wear an ugly uniform to indulge his weird sexual fetish.”

“…my what now?”

Confident that she’d just played a winning hand, she leaned forward, bending her chest slightly over the table. “Please, I see right through your little act. Sure, you flirt and tease, but only if I’m fully dressed.” The tip of a manicured finger teasingly traced along the swell of her cleavage. “When I’m wearing next to nothing, you show no interest in my incredibly sexy body. Given your proclivities, I’m surprised you even helped me out of my coat.”

Blinking owlishly, Law replied, “I’m sorry, you think I’m attracted to you…when you’re wearing more clothes?”

“Yeah!” she insisted, not caring for his disbelieving tone.

He covered his face with one large, tattooed hand, but through his splayed fingers Nami could still see yellow eyes light up with amusement. As she glared, they only shone brighter, and his shoulders slowly began to shake. Gradually, low chuckles slipped from his lips, finally morphing into full-on laughter, his palm failing to muffle the sound.

An irritated vein throbbed in Nami’s forehead as Law continued to cackle. “Don’t think you can fool me by treating this like a joke! You have a clothing kink! During my initial check-up, you didn’t give a damn that I was strutting around in my underwear. At the mansion, you were all over me when I was in that gown, but once it’s off, woosh, I’m as attractive as a lamp! Even after the mission, you barely even acknowledged what a hot piece of ass I am. Then you insist I wear that freaking jumpsuit…”

“Nami-ya,” he chortled as his hand dropped back to the table, managing to calm down enough during her rant to formulate a reply, “I don’t have a clothing kink—I’m just good at compartmentalizing and know there’s a time and place. When we were in the infirmary, not only was I acting as your doctor, but it was clear you were too nervous to be receptive to any blatant advances. As for the mansion, yes you looked absolutely delicious in that bodysuit, but we were there to do a job; there was simply no time to indulge myself. And when I treated your wounds,” his smile fell a bit, “you’d just been through a potentially traumatizing event. You were flinching just from me touching your calf. I know I can be an asshole, but did you really expect me to come onto you when you were acting like I was Harpin?”

For a moment, Nami just sat there, jaw hanging uselessly as she realized just how far off her theory had been, and most importantly, just how badly she’d managed to embarrass herself. Her own vanity had blinded her to the obvious answer. She could justify it with the fact that most of the guys she knew were either perverts or barely acknowledged that she was a woman, so she wasn’t used to a man who could both flirt and control himself, but she wouldn’t lie to herself.

“So…the uniform isn’t some weird sexual thing?” she asked, trying to cover her humiliation by finishing her glass of champagne. Times like these made her really wish she could get drunk; it would be the perfect excuse for her ridiculous accusation.

“I mean, I won’t lie and say I don’t like you in it, but it really is just for your own protection.” Law’s returning grin was smoldering and devilish as he purred, “I’m curious, though, about what bothered you more; that I might have a strange fetish for fully-clothed women, or that I wasn’t giving your incredibly sexy body the attention you felt it deserved?”

“I…”

He shuffled closer, sliding across the booth to close the distance between them, resting his right arm across the back of her seat and teasingly trailing the fingers of his left land along the soft skin of her jaw to cup her chin. “Because if it’s the latter, I’m happy to show you just how much I appreciate it when you run around my ship in crop tops and booty shorts.”

Nami blushed, realizing she’d played directly into his hands.

“You know, one of the reasons I like redheads so much is how vibrantly they blush,” he chuckled, leaning down so his breath danced across her sensitive neck and ear. The way she’d pinned her hair meant she had no shield from it, and she shivered at the sensation. “It’s so cute, watching the capillaries that carry your blood widen as adrenaline rushes through you. No matter how good a person’s poker face is, the body doesn’t lie. Lets me know my target’s receptive to my flirting, even when they stubbornly refuse to admit it.”

“You base it all on a blush?” she countered, defiantly poking him in the chest. “People blush in anger and embarrassment. You can’t assume someone wants you just because their face gets a little red.”

Like a leopard sizing up his prey, Law loomed above her, gaze analytical and hungry as he studied her. “No, you’re right; good thing, as a doctor, I know all the other physical indicators of arousal.” Tilting her head up, he stated, “Dilated pupils.”

His hand dropped from her chin to carefully brush along the flesh of her arm. “Goosebumps.”

Long fingers encircled her wrist, thumb resting over her pulse. “Increased heartrate.”

Honey eyes dropped to Nami’s mouth as the tip of her pink tongue peeked out to moisten her suddenly dry lips. “Unconsciously licking one’s lips.”

Releasing her wrist, Law’s touch traveled back up her arm to gently stroke the ends of her mikan hair. “And the fact that you haven’t even tried to move or push me away. In fact, I’d say you’re leaning into my touch.”

Nami’s face warmed further as she realized he was right. Mentally she berated herself, but deep down, she was beginning to accept that, even if she refused to act on it for pride and professionalism’s sake, she was slightly addicted to his attentions. She was never short on male admirers, but Law challenged her, the push-and-pull giving her a thrill the way heart-eyed fools like Sanji failed to. There was something about Law that drew her in like a moth to a flame—she knew it was fatal to get too close, but damn it, she couldn’t help but dance with danger.

Winding a short, orange lock of hair around a long finger, Law declared confidently, “All this says you find me sexually attractive.”

Before she could confirm or deny this claim, an excited voice bellowed, “As I live and breathe, Trafalgar Law graces us with his exalted presence once again!”

Said captain’s seductive grin shifted into his trademark smirk as he turned to greet the newcomer. “Are you living and breathing, Hiroshi-ya?”

The man chuckled, grabbing Law’s hand in a firm shake. Beneath a silver fedora his graying hair was cut close to his scalp. His skin was dark but sported prominent laugh-lines, a pair of oval sunglasses rested on the end of his large nose, and his brilliant grin could have replaced one of the stage’s spotlights. “If I’m not, you’d probably know before I did, doc.”

“Because I’m that good, or because you’d be too focused on performing to realize you’d dropped dead?”

The two shared a laugh before the man turned to introduce himself to Nami. “Hope I wasn’t interrupting a moment, here, darlin’, but I simply had to come over and say hello. The name’s ‘Devil’s Fingers’ Hiroshi, and your boy Law here is one of my favorite patrons. Tips well, and he saved my life.”

“I only fixed your hands.”

“Considerin’ how they’d been crushed beyond recognition and I need those to make a living, I think that counts.”

Nami gaped in shock as Hiroshi held up his hands, showing that while they were clearly in working order, they were littered with tiny surgical scars.

Law shrugged, though he seemed pleased with the praise. “It was a fun operation—not every day you get to remove someone’s finger bones one-by one to rebuild your favorite musician’s hands.”

“You put someone else’s bones into him?” Nami asked the surgeon, astounded.

“Of course,” Law said casually. “His own were absolutely pulverized, so a transplant was necessary if he ever wanted to play the saxophone again.”

Part of her was horrified at the mental image, but beneath that, something niggled at her. This was the second time she’d heard someone sing Law’s praises as a legitimate doctor, and unlike Reginald, Hiroshi seemed perfectly aware of the Surgeon of Death’s criminal activities and sadistic reputation. What reason did Law have for helping this man? Was it just because he liked his music?

“Well, I’d best get ready for the show, and I’m sure you want some more alone time with your girl, eh, Law?” Hiroshi teased, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

“I’d certainly appreciate a little mood music,” he said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a few large bills.

“You got it,” the sax player sniggered, winking at Nami. “Hope you don’t mind, but we’ll be stroking your boy’s ego a bit. After the surgery, I wrote a little ditty about him as thanks, and it’s become pretty popular with the crowd. Plus, it’s the only time Oscar lets me take over as the lead singer.”

“Law strokes his own ego plenty,” Nami groused, eyes rolling heavenward. “And if you want to write about him, go for his flaws; there’s enough of those to fill an opera.”

“Oooo, she’s feisty! Have fun with that, doc!” he chuckled as he strolled off towards the stage.

“I plan to,” Law purred, turning back towards the woman beside him. “I just can’t resist a fiery ginger.”

“Speaking of,” Nami deflected, hoping to keep the conversation from returning to their original topic, “you and Drake, huh?”

He chuckled at her obvious ploy but proceeded to go along with it. “Ah, one of my favorite playmates. What do you want to know?”

“I mean, let’s start with how the hell that happened?”

“You mean, how did the golden boy of the Navy find himself thoroughly seduced by the North Blue’s most notorious rookie pirate?”

“Yeah. Mainly because Drake seems smart enough not to fall for your sleazy tricks. Or at the very least, composed enough to ignore them until you lose interest.”

Refreshing their glasses of champagne, he gave a wolfish smile. “So you’d think, but Drake-ya’s got an instinctual, animalistic side that’s just so much fun to rile up. Besides that, I observed his physical reactions whenever we crossed paths, and wouldn’t you know it? They were damningly similar to yours.”

Picking at the remains of the charcuterie board, she munched on a piece of cheese to keep her body’s natural responses under control. Keep it together, she thought stubbornly. Even if I did mix business with pleasure, there’s no way I’m letting him win. “Pretty sure the heat of battle elicits similar responses. I think you were just looking for clues that weren’t there in a desperate attempt justify a hopeless crush.”

Her sass received a sharp laugh in reply. Handing Nami her glass, Law brushed the tips of his fingers over hers as he stated, “Maybe, but my theory was undeniably proven when Penguin, Ikkaku and I snuck onto his ship and found him moaning my name while jerking off in the shower.”

Nami nearly choked on her drink, the bubbly wine burning as it tried to make its way up her nose. No wonder Penguin wanted to repress that, she thought, mortified for the poor first mate. She’d probably feel the same way if she’d overheard someone masturbating to the thought of Luffy. “Oh my god.”

“You should have heard the things he was saying—fuck, harder Law! Put that dirty mouth to good use, you bastard!” Law moaned in her ear, mimicking his rival’s deep, guttural growl.

“M-maybe he had a hard-on for justice. You know, the actual law,” she argued weakly. She didn’t even really know why she bothered—it was clear he’d been right, considering how he and Drake had fucked at least once, but she just felt a need to try to knock him down a few pegs and keep his ego in check.

“Mmm, do you really believe that?” he hummed, honey eyes regarding her with amusement as he took a sip of his drink. “I think you’re just looking for clues that aren’t there in a desperate attempt to justify your need to be contrary.”

“Oh, shut up,” she grumbled, downing her drink and pouring the last of the bottle into her glass. “Fine, so Drake was utterly repressed from his time in the Navy and you were able to use that to get him into bed.” A thought came to her, and she raised her eyebrow curiously. “Wait, he didn’t leave the Marines because he fell in love with you or something, right?” That…would be kind of tragic, actually. Despite the sexual tension, the two Supernova hadn’t seemed to be on the friendliest of terms, so if Drake had defected for Law only for their relationship to sour…

“God, no,” he laughed, finishing off his own glass of champagne. “Drake-ya was dishonorably discharged not long after he massacred a village rumored to be sheltering pirates. He may seem honorable and composed, and I’ll admit he usually tried to avoid senseless cruelty, but when situations called for violence, he was cold-blooded and bloodthirsty. I think his family history also played a role; his father had defected and turned pirate, so I imagine there was a bit of a glass ceiling Drake-ya knew he’d never overcome.”

“And you know this how?”

“Pillow talk.”

Nami mulled his words over carefully. “Was Drake close to his father?”

“From what he told me while completely shitfaced, Diez Barrels had once been a Marine Drake-ya wanted to emulate, but when he switched sides, he was nothing short of an abusive monster.”

Pity welled up in Nami’s heart at the implications. “Poor guy.”

“You do remember this is the same man who tried to kidnap you, right?”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean it must not have sucked for him; looking up to someone, wanting to be just like them, only to be let down in spectacular fashion.”

For a brief moment, Law tilted his head, the brim of his hat casting a shadow across his face, but his voice was tight as he replied, “Enough about Drake-ya.” Clearing his throat, he turned to catch their waiter’s eye, pointing to the empty bottle of champagne. When his gaze returned to Nami, his tone was back to normal. “I’m getting a little jealous with all this talk about another man.”

She frowned. Nami could tell she’d hit a bit close to home there. Had Law once looked up to someone? Part of her wanted to pry; the man was uncharted waters, and the cartographer in her itched to discover his secrets and map them out.

But more than anyone, she respected wanting to keep a painful history private. “Then what do you want to talk about? Because if you want any more of my past, you’re going to need to buy me more than another bottle of champagne,” she replied before knocking back the final sip.

He raised an eyebrow, impressed. “You drank quite a bit of that, Nami-ya, and yet I’m not noticing any signs of inebriation. It seems Mugiwara wasn’t exaggerating when he bragged about your tolerance.”

“Please, this is nothing—Zoro and I could drink whole taverns dry and still walk a straight line. Hell, it was one of my favorite ways to swindle pirates; get in good with the crew, outdrink them, then swipe their treasure while they were all passed out.”

“Interesting. You may be physically weak, but your liver sounds formidable.”

The lights, dimmed, and Nami glanced around curiously. Law chuckled, drawing her closer and pointing towards the stage. “Looks like the show’s about to start,” he murmured in her ear as he settled in, the arm around her waist telling her that she wasn’t moving for at least the duration of the song.

The band played a low, steady beat as a handsome man in a white silk blazer escorted a curvaceous woman with bold red hair wearing a silver dress onto the stage, the spotlights hitting the sequins in a way that nearly distracted from the daring slit and sexy black garters underneath. Turning her back to the crowd, she swayed her hips to the rhythm as the man took the microphone.

“Good evening, Ladies and Gentlemen,” he drawled, tossing the crowd a smirk that could give Law’s a run for its money. “We’ve got a great night in store for you. I see a lot of new faces out there—as well as some familiar ones—so I’m not gonna yammer on too long. I want you to sit back, enjoy the service, the scenery, but most of all, enjoy the show.”

As he finished, he signaled to the band, who immediately transitioned into a smooth but lively tune, Hiroshi’s saxophone front-and-center, and the red-haired woman turned around, sensually dancing with the emcee as he began to sing.

It ain’t no big thing to wait for the bell to ring It ain’t no big thing The toll of the bell

Aggravated, spare for days I troll downtown the red-light place

Jump up bubble up - what’s in store? Love is the drug and I need to score

Enthralled, Nami watched as the pair performed, the song turning into a duet as they moved, the woman’s low, husky voice sending a thrill down her back. Or perhaps it was Law’s fingers stroking idly along her side—far from his groping in the alley, but the light touch was just as hot. Thighs clenched as the male singer bent the woman over suggestively, and she hoped Law was too focused on the show to notice her aroused blush. She didn’t want to imagine herself and the Supernova next to her in their place, but with the woman’s red hair and the man’s cocky smirk, it was really difficult not to picture the sensual scene the song suggested—her and Law stumbling around a dark room, locked in a passionate embrace, until finally they made it to the bed…

God, she joked about Drake being repressed to give in to an asshole like Law, but clearly, she was just as pent-up.

When the song ended, Nami let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding, quickly going for her refilled champagne, gulping it down to wet her suddenly dry mouth. She hadn’t even realized Hansuke had refreshed their drinks as she hadn’t been able to pry her eyes from the stage, too lost in the song and her fantasy.

Out of the corner of her eye she noticed Law smirking in an all-too-knowing manner, but before he could comment, they were once more interrupted, only this time by the gorgeous singer who had left the stage to visit their table.

“Captain Trafalgar,” the red-haired woman purred, voice husky with an edge of a rough accent that somehow made her even more glamourous, “I heard you were back in town.”

“Excellent opening act, Haiko-ya, as usual,” Law replied, standing up to gallantly kiss her hand. “Oscar may be your prized vocalist, but everyone knows you’re the real star up there.”

“You charmer. Still sure you don’t want to quit piracy and come work for me?” she asked with an inviting smile. “I could use a man of your talents.”

“I’m sure you could, but as much as I like this club, staying in one place just doesn’t appeal to me. I like to wander, you know.”

“Pity, but you can’t blame a woman for trying. After all, who wouldn’t want a skilled doctor and enforcer on her payroll? Especially with my husband’s…accident,” she replied, tone suddenly going sour.

“I assume Jinzo’s challenging your claim to Kimo-ya’s share of the business?”

“Oh, he’s doing more than that—he’s trying to compete against my business. Opening his own club and even a few brothels so he can steal my clientele—rumor has it that’s why he’s being so stingy with his black market clients. His recent investments have put him in the red, and he he’s going to have to do something drastic to recoup the cost.”

For a brief moment Law frowned, though his lips soon turned back up into his calculating, sadistic grin. “Until then, his broken promises could earn him quite a few enemies.”

“Oh yes. I hear X Drake in particular was extremely pissed that Jinzo didn’t have his money today.”

“He was even more so when I told him that there’s no way he’d planned on paying his asking price.”

Haiko tsked. “Oh dear. It would be such a shame if some frustrated client were to cross Jinzo’s path before his latest business venture can properly take off.”

Behind them, Nami swallowed audibly, catching onto their intentions. Law glanced at her over his shoulder before returning his attention to Haiko. “Now’s not a great time to talk business, but perhaps we could continue our chat after the show. Jinzo’s trying to screw over a lot of treacherous people, myself included, and while I’m not interested in your job offer, I’d be happy to negotiate a deal that could benefit us both greatly.”

Her blood red lips curled upwards, eyes alight with interest. “Meet me in my office at nine-thirty sharp—it would be a pleasure doing business with you.”

“Before you go, I want to introduce you to my date,” he drawled, gently tugging Nami out of her seat. “Haiko-ya, this is Cat Thief Nami.”

“Ah, the woman who swindled Jinzo out of a lot of money,” the businesswoman replied, pleased smile fixated on the younger woman as she shook her hand.

“Does everybody know about that?” Nami squeaked.

“Oh, darling, it was the best piece of news I’ve heard all day. And not everyone knows—yet. I just happen to have a few eyes and ears stationed close to him so he doesn’t try to do to me what he did to my darling Kimo. I may not be able to prove he was involved, but it never hurts to be ready for anything.”

“Very true,” Law agreed. “So, I’ll see you at nine-thirty?”

Haiko blew him a kiss as she sauntered off. “Absolutely. And as thanks for embarrassing that piece of shit, your drinks are on me tonight. Keep it up, Miss Cat Thief, and you might just earn a VIP membership here, too.”

Nami couldn’t keep herself from staring as the woman left. Beautiful and glamourous though she was, she totally believed Haiko was the sort who would slit a man’s throat with a smile. She had a dangerous aura about her, and given how casually she and Law spoke, Nami was certain an ill wind was blowing.

“You two are going to do something to Jinzo, aren’t you?” she asked, sweat prickling at the back of her neck. She had no sympathy for the man, but she hoped whatever Law was planning didn’t involve her; the last thing she wanted was to get caught in the middle of an underworld power struggle.

“Mmmm, don’t worry your pretty little head over that, sweetheart,” Law purred as he tugged her towards the stage. His eyes were half-lidded and inviting, and Nami’s breath caught in her throat as her heart stuttered. Maybe it was just the aftereffects of Haiko’s performance, but the heat between her legs begged her not to resist him. “Ikkaku’s due to steal you away from me soon, so I’m not wasting another second.”

“What are you doing?” she asked, voice barely more than a whisper.

One hand clasped hers as the other wrapped around her lower back. “It dawned on me that, with how busy you were pick-pocketing rich assholes at the gala, I never got a dance with you. We’re going to remedy that. And wouldn’t you know it?” he rasped, leaning in so close his lips ever-so-slightly brushed her ear. “They’re about to play my song.”

Though initially thrown by his sudden change of tone and forwardness, Nami quickly realized from the feeling of hard wood beneath their feet that he’d led them onto the dancefloor. Before she could protest or break away, Hiroshi noticed them, tossing a wink and pointing them out to the male singer from earlier. Oscar quietly chuckled as he handed over the microphone, even giving a playful bow before stepping over to a xylophone.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, we are graced with the presence of the man who inspired this next song, the one and only Dr. Heart Stealer!”

As the music began, Law swept her into a dance, easily leading her in time to the lively beat.

Why is everyone so impatient? Recklessly jumping into things Crushing backstabbing

To achieve your goal Sometimes you just need to dive deep, hide yourself Scan the situation, that’s all

Welcome to Trafalgar’s ROOM Look into the mirror and see Are you who you really are? Welcome to Trafalgar’s ROOM Shall I steal what’s most precious to you?

Dr. Heart Stealer

Once you’re addicted, you can never escape…

As Hiroshi crooned the lyrics, Nami forced herself to focus on keeping pace with Law, and not on the surprising suggestiveness of the lyrics or the heat of the doctor’s palm on her exposed back. There were mere inches between them—enough space to properly move, but still so close that their breaths and body heat mingled. He was a surprisingly good dancer, too, gently guiding her across the polished floor in time to the beat, giving the occasional spin and dip, all while those golden, hungry eyes never left hers.

If something’s important, hide it away Once you shout about it out loud It’s just too naive, so sickening

Waiting is not a futile thing With enough clinical data You won’t make a mistake, there’ll be no trouble

Welcome to Trafalgar’s ROOM It’ll be over once your space’s safety is breached Welcome to Trafalgar’s ROOM Because I know what’s most precious to you

Dr. Heart Stealer

Once I set my target, I’ll definitely get it

Don’t run away, come join me Show me how you dance

Welcome to Trafalgar’s ROOM Look into the mirror and see Are you who you really are? Welcome to Trafalgar’s ROOM Shall I steal what’s most precious to you?

Dr. Heart Stealer

Once you’re addicted, you can never escape…

At last the song came to an end, and while Nami wanted to blame her breathlessness on the dancing, she knew at least a little of it had to do with the way Law was looking at her. His intense stare sizzled her skin pleasantly, and she had no choice but to admit that, as much as she wanted to fight it, the song was right.

If she let herself get addicted to him, she’d never escape.

[hellas-himself]

Crack Ship Holidays

Halloween Pt. 1- Cassian x Feyre 

.

.

.

My cellphone falls to the floor and I groan, blindly reaching for it in the dark. Was it really five-thirty already? I tap the screen until the cursed alarm goes silent. I slide out of bed, taking the pillow and blanket with me and once my bare legs hit the cold floor, I shoot to my feet and toss my phone on the bed.

It was only October and the damned apartment was a freezer. But I have to shower; I have mascara and eye liner smeared on my face, my hair looks like a rat’s nest after all the hairspray I’d used and this dress- god this stupid dress. It belongs to Mor, but I haven’t done laundry in over a week and I needed something decent to meet them all in at the bar. It was beautiful, but it was so snug that it left marks all over my skin. And that wasn’t even counting what the strapless bra did to me.

Cursing, I shower quickly, washing my hair under cold water until it turns hot enough that I stop shivering. I blow dry my hair and pass the flat iron over it quickly before hurrying to get dressed. Mindful of where I will be today, I slide into skinny jeans and a black t-shirt. No one is going to see my Halloween socks, which is a tragedy, but at least I have my sweater. I know Mor and Nesta would look at me with disgust if they knew I hadn’t washed this sweater since the last time I’d worn it but it still had Cassian’s cologne. As did his leather jacket that he so conveniently left here after everyone had come over to play cards. 

My car takes way too long to start but luckily, I still have enough time to stop for coffee and a bagel before driving to the school. One of Cassian’s friends, another tattoo artist, has a girlfriend that teaches music there. He had mentioned to Cas that they needed an art teacher and my best friend gave them my number. I had been so nervous when he’d told me, to the point that I almost puked. But he had talked me back down to earth and drove me to meet the principal last week.  And for now, it’s just volunteering, and I can live with that.

I mentally go down the list of all I have to do when I get there. I have to find and park in the visitor’s section. Go to the front office and hand in my ID and get signed in. Scope out the supplies readily available and set up shop before 9am.

The security guard eyes my bag of art supplies with amusement.

“Carrying a body in there?” he asks in a pathetic attempt at teasing. I force a laugh. If I say what I really want to say, I will ruin this and I cannot fuck this up.  

“Good morning, you must be Ms. Archeron,” the secretary says cheerfully. She wasn’t here when I came in last week.

“Is it that obvious?” I ask, reaching into my back pocket for my wallet.

She stands and leans over, as though sharing a secret. “You’ve got a bit of paint on your jeans.”

I look down. “Oh… That happens a lot.”

I set the bag down, taking my license out and sliding it towards her.

“Perfect,” she says. “I’m Briar, by the way.”

I nod, doing my best not to shove my hands into my pockets- a habit I developed thanks to Rhys.

“So, I know we asked for an hour,” Briar says, typing away at the computer. “But some parents handed their forms in late. Do you think you could stay until… eleven?”

“Uh… Yeah. Definitely.”

Briar hands me back my license and then holds out a name badge.

“I’m trying to convince the principal to do something like lanyards but for now, this is what we have.”

I put the sticker on my sweater, mindful of the sparkly bats on my chest. Then, she guides me out of the office and through several hallways until she unlocks the door to a room bigger than my apartment.

“The previous art teacher left it just like this… We’d hoped so much for her to come back, but her husband got deployed and she needed help with her kids. She moved out of state over the summer.”

I set my bag down on a table and start walking around. There was the teacher’s desk with the projector beside it. A shelf that housed various kinds of paints and two enormous paint-stained sinks. The brushes were stored in cups of all kinds, ceramic mugs and plastic cups, glass mason jars. This was heaven.

“So… I’ll leave you to it. The first class begins at 9.”

“Is there an attendance sheet or something?” I ask, suddenly remembering that there was more to this than painting.

Briar giggles, her cheeks flushing pink.

“There’s a book. But don’t worry about that today. I’ll send someone up with a sign in sheet for the kids.”

I nod, taking the leather jacket off.

“Thank you,” I say and she smiles, leaving me to my own devices.

*

The smell of barbecue is doing nothing to help how hungry I am. I step into the diner and go to my usual seat, waving at the owner who is already telling the cook that I’m here. I sit down with a long sigh, pulling my phone out and checking my messages. Two missed calls from Nesta. A text from Elain in our group chat. 57 messages in the group chat with Rhys, Lucien, Az and Cassian. I roll my eyes and ignore that. Then, there are the calls from unknown numbers, all of them within minutes of each other. I lock my phone and set it down, looking up when the bell at the door rang. My heart does leaps in my chest as Cassian looks my way, breaking into a smile as he walks over.

“Well, if it isn’t the new art teacher,” he says by way of greeting, pulling me in for a bear hug when I get to my feet.

“It was just today,” I remind him, “And hello to you, too.”

He flicks my nose before sitting down across from me. He smirks when he notices that I’m wearing his jacket. He takes off his own and rolls up the sleeves to his shirt.  

“How did it go?” he asks, adjusting his watch.

“It was… terrifying.” He raises a brow but I smile. “Kids are fucking scary, Cas… And being responsible for 20 of them at once is just…”

“A nightmare?”

“A dream.”

Cas snorts.

“It’s been too long, Cas. I feel out of practice… But I started them with color theory and having them paint their own wheels… The second class was even bigger and it was just so much fun.”

Cassian is still smiling and I blush, grateful that our food is being placed before us.

“I haven’t seen you smile this much in a while, bunny.”

“I was smiling last night,” I quip, and happily reach for my strawberry milkshake.

“You were drunk.”

“All the same.”

Cassian would normally push the subject, I know, but he only has an hour and a half before he has to go back to the shop. And between proving a point and eating lunch, food will win every time.  

“This isn’t over,” he says, stuffing fries into his mouth.

*

I toss my keys on the little table in the entrance hallway, kicking off my boots as I walk into the apartment. I set my bag down on the floor before I walk across the carpet to open the blinds. I look around the living room and internally kick myself for forgetting that my sisters are coming over today. Last weekend’s beer cans and empty boxes of pizza are still littering the floor and coffee table. Someone’s bra is hanging over the arm rest. Rhys managed to leave his socks under my couch, and as I pick them up, I make a mental note to bring up a ‘strip poker laundry basket’ for them to deposit their clothes when we play. I grab the bra and realize that it’s mine.

I start a load of laundry and wash all the dishes in the sink and around the apartment. Once I finish with that, I take out the trash which required two trips. When I get back to my apartment, I wash my hand and burn incense- dragon’s blood, Cassian’s favorite. I vacuum the carpet and sweep the entrance hall and kitchen but don’t bother mopping. The bathroom is miraculously clean, but my bed is a disaster. The fitted sheet is beginning to come off but I hear the doorbell and leave it alone, tying up my hair as I go to answer it.

“I thought you stopped smoking,” Nesta says as I kiss her cheek.

“I did.”

“Then what’s with the incense.”

“The neighbor was cooking fish again,” I lie, but it’s happened enough that Nesta easily believes me.

“Elain is stopping to bring dinner after she leaves work.”

“Are you thirsty?”

Nesta sets her purse and keys on the counter, shrugging off her trench coat. She looks as flawless as always.

“Feyre, we know that you haven’t gone for groceries in weeks.”

“But I have water.” I sound pathetic, but I am not going to tell her that I went food shopping and brought everything to Cassian’s house. He’s the better cook and I would rather drive to see him every night than burn dinner at home. I was never here as it was.

“We had a luncheon meeting, I’m alright for now.”

She sits down on the barstool and looks me up and down. I have paint on my jeans and shirt, and I’m still wearing my purple sweater with the bats tied around my waist. When I see her eye my socks, I start walking.

“I taught at the school this morning,” I say as I grab my bag off the floor. I bring it to the kitchen and start pulling out the palettes and brushes I want to thoroughly clean.

“Did you like it?”

“I did, honestly.”

For once, she doesn’t roll her eyes when I set the palettes in the sink. I turn on the water, grabbing the sponge set aside for my art supplies and the soap.

“And what did the school think?”

I blush at this. Nesta doesn’t do well with unknowns.

“Briar, the secretary, she says she’ll call me once she hears something,” I say, and before she can scowl, I add, “But the principal seemed really happy with what we did. They asked me to stay an extra hour… It was a lot of fun.”

“And if they ask you to come back, will you take the job?”

“It’s not a job, Nes… But I mean, if it came to that, of course.”

“You turned down teaching jobs to work at that bar and look how that turned out.”

“I was depressed, Nesta. Cut me some fucking slack.”

“You can’t expect Cassian to keep saving your ass, Feyre.”

“I don’t expect anything from anyone. Least of all Cassian.”

“It’s almost been a year –”

I set the palette in the drying rack a little harder than I mean to.

“Did you write that down in your calendar so you can remind me that Tamlin left? I know how long it’s been Nesta.”

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it. You can’t depend on Cassian forever.”

“Why do you hate him so much? He is always there for me- something you can’t say. Honestly, sometimes I have no idea what he saw in you.”

“I told him I was sorry.”

“You broke his heart and have the nerve to bitch about what he does for me. I love you, Nesta, but give me a fucking break.”

*

I am almost glad that Elain cancelled dinner. Nesta had left once I refused to listen to her empty apologies. But now, I’m hungry. And alone. You can’t expect Cassian to keep saving your ass, Feyre. I laugh at myself; my thumb is hovering over the voice call button under Cassian’s name. My eyes burn with tears and my throat feels like it is closing up. Did Nesta not understand how much I hated the fact that I’ve had to ask any of them for help?

I toss my phone across the sofa, hating that I am crying. Hating that almost a year has passed and my life is no better than it was when Tamlin left. Hating that Nesta seems to forget that she was able to finish college because I was the one working my ass off to keep us afloat. Hating that I’d let Tamlin convince me to leave my job- my career- just to leave me.

I breathe in deeply, letting it out as I press my fingers against my eyes. I know that I can’t drive like this. With a sniffle, I get my jacket and boots on. The more I move, the less I cry, and by the time I make it down the stairs, I only have a stuffy nose.

The owner of the corner store gives me a sympathetic smile when they see me walk in. I can’t return it, but I wave, going right to the fridge. I grab a beer, ignoring Nesta’s voice in my head, telling me how irresponsible this was. I grab another one just to shut her up.

“Your usual?” he asks as I near the counter.

“Uh… No. Surprise me.”

Tamlin and I would come here every few nights, always getting the same thing. I’m not sure what’s for dinner tonight, but I see him throw a soda and bag of chips in the bag and decide that I’m perfectly fine with that. I pay in cash and wish him a good night, hurrying back to my apartment.

I put on a game show and sit down on the sofa, taking everything out of the bag. Before I open the Styrofoam container, someone starts knocking on my door. I don’t have to ask who it is, but I am still caught off guard to find Cassian standing outside, holding a bag of take out.

“Cas… Hey.”

“Your phone dead?” he asks as I give him a quick kiss on the cheek and let him in.

“No… I went up the street.”

He sets his bag next to my food and sits down, taking off his jacket and tossing it.

“Az told me Ellie had to cancel dinner with you,” he says as he starts to take his food out of the bag. He grabs one of my beers and opens it. “Iliana got sent home sick from school.”

“Oh… What about Val?”

“I dropped him off at Rhysand’s before coming here.”

I make a face. “Stupid apartment and its stupid dog rules.”

“What’s for dinner?” he asks as I sit beside him.

“I don’t really know,” I reply. “I told him to surprise me.”

Cassian takes a drink of his beer and chuckles.

“Well. I’ve got Chinese.”

It’s a sandwich, that much I know. A sandwich Cassian tries to take the moment I hold it out to him.

“Bunny, please.”

“What is it?” I ask again, holding the sandwich up and away from him.

“It’s a tripleta. Chicken, beef, and pork with cheese and those potato chip fries. And the mayo-ketchup. I haven’t had one in forever! I’ll give you anything!”

I start laughing, as if I would ever say no to him.

“We’ll split it,” I say, laughing some more when he hugs me tight.

Cassian changes the channel to watch one of our favorite crime shows. I take my boots off and sit cross legged. He smiles when he sees the little ghosts on my socks and reaches down to pull his jeans up to show me that he’s wearing the exact same ones.

After we eat, I bring the empty containers to the garbage and come back to find Cassian sprawled out on the sofa. When he sees me, he holds out his arms to me and I walk over, letting him pull me into his arms. I rest my head against his chest, closing my eyes.

“Rhys says hello… He misses you.”

I giggle. “As if he didn’t freeze my phone texting us so many times.”

Cassian holds me a little tighter as he chuckles.

“You know how he gets when he thinks he’s being ignored.”

“He’s a brat.”

He laughs. “You’re telling me.”

I stretch out a bit and Cassian places one hand on the small of my back, the other on my arm where he begins to trace his fingers up and down bare skin.

“You alright?” he asks quietly. I don’t say anything at first but then I shake my head.

“I’m stuck,” I whisper. “What is wrong with me, Cas?”

“Nothing is wrong with you.”

The way he says it makes me want to believe him.

“What did Nesta say to you?” he asks and I sigh. “You only ever get like this when you talk to her.”

I cross my arms, resting my head against them to be able to look at him.

“She just… It’s been almost a year. And nothing has changed.”

“You really believe that?”

When I don’t answer, Cassian sighs.  

“Last November, you couldn’t leave your bed. You didn’t eat. You didn’t even talk. You taught classes today, Feyre- you would have never let yourself even think of such a thing before.”

He’s right- I know that he’s right, but it doesn’t stop me from crying again. When I get up, Cassian follows suit and simply pulls me into his lap, cradling me against him.

“Things like this take time,” he says. “And I’m going to be there, for as long as it takes. You know that, right?”

“I can’t expect that of you,” I say before I can stop myself and Cas goes still.

“What do you mean?” he asks.

“I’m sorry… She just really got to me.”

“What did she say?”

Once I repeat her words, I feel completely ashamed of myself. I want the earth to swallow me whole when Cassian curls a finger under my chin and makes me look up at him.

“I love you, Feyre Archeron. And I don’t give a fuck what your sister thinks. You are my best friend, just because she refuses to lend you a hand, doesn’t mean that everyone else has to.” He brushes the tears away and tucks an errant lock of hair behind my ear.

“I love you, too.”

He presses a kiss to my forehead and I close my eyes, letting out a sigh.  

“I’m always gonna be here for you, bunny.”

When he kisses me, I practically melt in his arms, but I still pull away.

“Cassian, you know I’m no good for you,” I say.

“If you weren’t good for me,” he says as his hands slide to my waist. “I wouldn’t be here.”

It’s a lie, we both know. So I kiss him, adjusting myself to straddle his lap.  

“If we’re going to hurt… might as well be with each other, right?” I say, and he chuckles.

“Don’t use my own words against me.”

I kiss him, reaching back to untie his hair.

“Just this once,” I say in a terrible imitation of his voice. I run my fingers through his hair and he closes his eyes. He sighs, and the smile that blossoms on his face gives me butterflies.

When he opens his eyes, he smirks; he’s caught me staring.

“Hey, the second time was your doing,” he quips, tugging on the hem of my shirt and pulling up. I lift my arms and laugh as he tries to mimic me. “This time and no more.”

“What can I say? You make me feel alive,” I declare, blushing suddenly. I did not mean to say that out loud. Cassian pauses his attempt at undoing the hooks of my bra. I have no idea how to turn my words into a joke.  

“Alive, huh?” he says softly. “That makes two of us.”

I don’t believe either of us are ready to unpack any of that. So I put my hands on his face and kiss him, and Cassian abandons my bra to slide his hands down to grab my ass. I shriek when he stands up, taking me with him.

“Asshole!” I shout, Cassian laughing as he walks towards my bedroom. He tosses me on the bed, walking over to turn a light on. When he turns to come back to me, I toss a pillow at him.

“Don’t start,” he warns, trying not to smile.

“Make me.”

Cassian chuckles at that and climbs on the bed, grabbing my ankle and pulling to him. He starts tickling me, and I have no strength to grab the other pillow and hit him with it.

“Stop it!” I managed to say through laughter.

“Make me,” Cassian says, mimicking me. But he still stops, grabbing me by the waist as he moves to lay on his back. My heart tightens in my chest at how light his eyes are. I reach out to brush his hair away from his eyes, then to trace the contours of his face.

“Plan on painting me?” he asks, smiling.

“Do you want me to?” I am out of breath.

Cassian traces his fingers up my spine and unhooks my bra.

“Not yet,” he replies and I laugh, leaning down to kiss him.

.

.

.

I had meant to put this out on like... Tuesday so by yesterday (actual Halloween) the fic would line up but fuck it. 

Cassian and Feyre are my #1 crack ship (that isn’t Sesshomaru and Kagome). I might try to do the next few holidays as well. But for now, it’s based around Halloween. It was supposed to be a one off based off a song BUT it turned into this fluff fest. Also, the “bunny” nickname came from another thing I wrote and never posted in which when they were like fresh out of highschool, Feyre went on a trip with Cassian and the guys, their dad. She wanted to try out hunting and shot a rabbit and cried so much about it Cassian started calling her bunny cuz it made her mad. Then it stuck. 

And then I couldn’t stop using it. I mean... he COULD call her Fey but no. Bunny. Also, remember how in my Elriel fic our Illyrians were basically like me and my family? Puerto Ricans from the mountains? We’re sticking with that. 

I do have to separate it into like 4 parts because it’s like 30 Word pages long and I can’t imagine how terrible that would translate on Tumblr. <3 

also, if you have a pairing request or whatever, I got you. 

[antiquecompass]

It’d been close to a year since he’d started dating Aidan. A wonderful year. A year that had brought him more joy than he thought possible. But Christmas and Aidan’s birthday on the 27th were looming at him now, along with that one-year anniversary. He had no clue what to get him for either day and this was one time his sisters couldn’t help him.

So he decided to go to Aidan’s sisters, well, one sister in particular.  

The entire Delaney clan had come to Lenox for Thanksgiving. Wen Ning had survived the weekend solely because Aidan made sure he could easily escape to have time to himself. Wen Ning just needed the alone time to recharge before heading back out to be social. The Delaneys were very loud and very affectionate and, honestly, very welcoming. Too welcoming sometimes which is why Wen Ning had a few moments where the room felt too small and too enclosed. And yet, somehow, Aidan or Aisling or Finn or Una were always there to get him to a quiet, empty space. 

He really did love them. All of them. Even the ones he’d just met for the first time this weekend.

He’d just wished they’d all collectively stopped trying to shove food at him. He didn’t have the heart to refuse any of them and was beyond full. He’d never been so thankful that Wen Qing had come to Aidan’s house and personally made sure he had a Wen Qing approved first aid and medicine cabinet. The economy sized bottle of Tums had become his best friend.

Cate was the sibling closest to Aidan in age. The eldest of ten siblings, her oldest daughter was the same age as Finn. She’d been the first of the non-Lenox Delaneys to meet him and of the grown-siblings was the one he’d grown closest to. Cate was going to be the next head of Delaney Detailing and Repair and she knew more about car specs and how to rebuild an engine block from scrap than anyone he’d ever met. 

She was also Aidan’s best friend, and therefore, the logical place to start.

“No clue what to get him for his birthday, right?” she asked as Wen Ning approached her in the finally cleared-out kitchen.

“And Christmas,” he admitted. 

Cate sighed. “Yeah, Aidan’s one of those. ‘Oh, I don’t need anything! Just get me a gift card! Or make a donation in my name!’ assholes.” She shook her head. “Bullshit, I say. Like, yeah, that’s fine for people like Great Aunt Betty who still thinks we’re teenagers, but it’s different when you’re dating the guy.”

“Yes,” Wen Ning agreed. “And I’ve done the donations, and an entire round of gift cards for the station’s favorite restaurants and for the grocery store for their in-house meals. And, of course, I have a collection of little things I’ve bought over the year. Just tiny things that reminded me of him. I figured I’d give him that for our anniversary, but for the other two. I’m at a loss. He doesn’t like fancy watches because he can’t use them for work and they’ll get ruined. He only wears the one cologne, and everyone gives that to him.”

“Guilty,” Cate admitted.

“He just upgraded the tv for this weekend, so that’s out.”

“And he’d have an actual heart attack if you bought him something so pricey,” Cate said.

“And ties, cuff links, those are out. He never wears them. Your mother and the Trio have him covered on loungewear. He doesn’t play video games because that’s not how he spends his free time. Your father is buying him a new Kindle.”

“Yeah, Pop called dibs on that one,” Cate agreed.

“So the only ideas I’m left with are a new Bruins jersey, the throwback ones that just came out, and a new pair of Jordans because he refuses to buy them for himself even though he stares them down every time we’re near a Footlocker.”

Cate pointed at him with a stalk of celery. “Those are both perfect ideas! There you go! Get them before anyone else can. I’ll update the group chat.”

Wen Ning shook his head. “They’re not special enough,” he said.

Cate patted his shoulder. “Look, you’re never going to out-sentimental Aidan when it comes to gifts. I swear to god, he learned how to do that stupid wood engraving just to shows us all up in the gift-giving department. Everyone thinks he’s this sweet little angel, but he’s got a competitive streak a mile wide when it comes to the family.”

Wen Ning had seen it, in person, during game nights. He quite liked it, if he was being completely honest. Aidan’s eyes shone with the thrill of victory, even over something as small as winning at-home Jeopardy!

“And honestly, Ning, he’s stupidly in love with you. Like, you could give him a friggin’ plate of cookies alone and he’d start sending texts to the entire family about how amazing and talented you are. He’ll love anything you give him, so no pressure. Really. He’d hate to think you’re agonizing over it.”

They were kind words, especially from Cate who rivaled his own sister at No Bullshit, but he still couldn’t help but worry. 

“Seriously, you could give him a coupon for Free Hugs and he’d kiss you and thank you and insist the coupon never expired. You. Have. Got. This.”

**********

Wen Ning didn’t like driving the Expedition. It was just <i>too</i> big, but it was the only vehicle that could easily and safely transport the Trio between Aidan, his cousin Chris, and Wen Ning. And it did have the rearview camera, which helped, along with Wen Ning’s supportive group of backseat drivers. 

They all wanted to go shopping for presents, and since Aidan had taken the weekend day shifts, Wen Ning had offered to take the Trio. 

“So, when are you moving in?” Una asked.

“Una, not while he’s driving,” Finn said. “Do you want us all to die?”

“What?” she asked. “He’s always at our house anyway.”

“Yeah, because of us, dumbass,” Finn said.

“Don’t call your sister that,” Wen Ning said, looking at them in the rearview mirror.

“Sorry,” Finn muttered.

“I’m not the one you need to apologize to,” Wen Ning said.

Finn rolled his eyes, but he still turned to Una. “I’m sorry.”

“Whatever,” Una said. “My point stands.”

Aisling remained quiet, but she met his eyes in the rearview mirror and shrugged.

“It’s a little soon,” Wen Ning said. “Maybe if we’re still together in a few years, we’ll talk about it.”

“If?” Aisling asked.

“Years?” Finn followed.

“It’s not something to take lightly,” he explained as he headed towards the mall. “Especially in our situation. We’d need to find a bigger house. We’d need to find a place that allowed cats and hamsters, if we decide to rent instead of own. I need somewhere with a big enough yard or basement for practice. And then there’s all the financial stuff. Rents or mortgages and utilities. Not to mention discussions such as what furniture you keep, give away, or buy.” He gave them a sad smile. “It’s not very romantic, I know.”

“Don’t you love Aidan?” Una asked.

That was enough to make him pull over to the side of the road, put it in park, and turn around to stare at the three of them.

“Of course I do,” he said. “I’ve never loved anyone the way I love your brother, but we both have other obligations and not unending sources of wealth like the Lans or the Jiangs. We have to be a little more cautious.”

Wen Ning didn’t say that he’d been waiting for the other shoe to drop for months. That he was waiting for Aidan to decided that hey, maybe a former pro-athlete and current gym teacher--a Wen--wasn’t the best place to lay his love and affection. 

He also knew if Aidan ever found out he was thinking that he’d see either one or all of the three faces of Aidan he couldn’t stomach: 1) rare anger 2) disappointment and 3) heartbreakingly sad.

But they hadn’t talked about the future, not in any great detail. They hadn’t talked about the reality of combining their lives, even if they were already so intertwined. And Wen Ning really didn’t want to have that conversation via proxy of the Trio. 

“Whenever you decide it’s time, you have our approval,” Aisling said.

“Totally,” Finn agreed.

“And our support,” Una said.

“Thanks, kiddos,” he said. “That means a lot.”

**********

Find your stance. Relax your grip. Notch the arrow. Place your fingers. Draw. Aim. Release. Over and over and over again. Some people had meditation. Some had yoga. Wen Ning had archery. 

The reason he’d invested in this house was because of the large basement, long enough and wide enough for a small in-home range. When he’d bought it, he had no real future in mind. It was just him then. He didn’t even have Mr. Tumnus.

Stance. Grip. Notch. Place. Draw. Aim. Release. Repeat. 

He had a vision of a future now. A husband. Kids. A place for Chris to work on his art. Guest rooms for their family. A backyard range. No dogs, of course. Maybe more cats. Maybe something else like a ferret. 

Stance. Grip. Notch. Place. Draw. Aim. Release. Repeat.

Aidan. His vision for that future was Aidan.

“Hold your fire, Hawkeye.”

Wen Ning dropped his stance. Aidan?

“Aidan?” he said, turning around in surprise.

Aidan grinned at him, still in his uniform.

“The Trio?” he asked.

Aidan shrugged. “Ma’s staying in town a few extra days. So, mind if I crash here for a bit?”

Wen Ning carefully placed his bow and arrow to the side then bound over to Aidan who laughed and caught him.

It was so rare for them to have time completely to themselves.

“I’m taking this as a yes,” Aidan said.

“Mmmhnn,” Wen Ning hummed into his mouth.

Aidan laughed, carefully walking them over to the old, battered couch.

“So, what’s this I hear about if we’re still together in a few years?”

Wen Ning buried his head in the safe space between Aidan’s neck and shoulder.

“Sweetheart,” Aidan said in his distinctive Southie accent. “You get this deer in the headlights look when I try to talk about the future, so I didn’t want to spook you. But I’m here. For you. For it all. Okay? River deep, mountain high, remember?”

“I remember,” Wen Ning said, Those words and that song, the first time Aidan told him he loved him. “It’s still too soon.”

“I know you think that and I respect it,” Aidan said. “So you take your time. I’ll still be right here. Right next to you.”

“You only have a binder full of listings, don’t you?” Wen Ning asked.

“You can’t prove nothing,” Aidan said. 

[lolabean1998]

This Better Work Part 5

Sweet Pea X OC

Summery; Hey guys, not sure how well this is going to go but I originally put it on Wattpad so its way long, but hopefully its not horrendous. Let me know what you think! So, it follows the story line kind of, it’s not exact but I have tried and it follows my OC Ali as she navigates through the hell that is Riverdale. Whilst struggling with financial, social and romantic difficulties, she has the added pressure of keeping up with school work and bonus of being thrown into the frightening world of the criminal underground.

Side Note; None of the gifs or pictures I use are mine, I’m not talented or smart enough to even begin an attempt at making my own. Thank you to those who have such abilities and if you don’t want me using them then please let me know so I can remove them for you. 

Word Count; 4,392 (Give or Take)

Ali woke earlier than usual the next morning, when her phone began frantically buzzing on the night stand. A message from an unknown number lighting up the screen that read; 'Rise and shine princess, gotta look your best when we win the race... and you!' Ali scowled at her phone in disgust.

"The fuck is going on here. Since when did I become someone's prize?!" She demanded to the empty room. 

"So much for my lie in! I'm awake now, may as well get up and ready." Ali complained climbing out of bed and making her way over to her closet to choose an outfit for the drag race. 

"Unbelievable, they have the audacity to label me as an object but don't have the courtesy to tell me who they are! Great now I'm thinking about it!" Ali muttered to herself.

"And talking to yourself like a crazy person." Izzy added casually from the doorway. Sending Ali cat leaping into her wardrobe.

"Dear god! IZZY WHAT THE FUCK?! You scared the crap out of me!" Ali cried climbing back out of her wardrobe placing the coat hanger she had grabbed as a weapon back on its rail making Izzy laugh.

"Were you going to attack me with a coat hanger?" Izzy howled, tears rolling down her cheeks as she buckled over laughing to the point where she was struggling to breath.

"I will Hang You like a Coat!" Ali claimed confidently, doing her best knight of the round table pose, holding her coat hanger high with pride making Izzy laugh even more. 

Ali chuckled at her sister turning back to pull out a pair of navy blue high waisted shorts with 6 brass buttons leading up the front in 2 parallel lines of three. Grabbing a sleeveless white shirt tying it just below the wire of her bra so her stomach was on show. Pairing it off with a red bandana and black suede heels that finished just above her ankles. Letting Izzy put her hair in two fishtail braids whilst she did her makeup. Adding a touch of mascara and putting on her favourite red lipstick to match the bandana wrapped neatly around her head. 

"Aliii." Izzy dragged out. She wanted something. Ali was sure of it. "Is there a REASON you're getting all dressed up for a turf war drag race? Say perhaps to impress a particular person." Izzy hinted finishing off the last braid.

"Eew gross why would I try to impress Reggie he's a creep." Ali cringed looking at her sister in disgusted confusion. Izzy was a little taken a back at Ali's reaction. She couldn't possibly be that oblivious.

"Eew what makes you think I'm talking about HIM?" Izzy questioned, now staring heavily at her sister in utter disbelief.

"Well he's the only possible candidate. It's obviously going to be a guy because as hot as Cheryl is. I don't do girls. Believe me I've tried. Jug and Arch are taken. Kev and Fangs are gay, obviously. The other Bulldogs are all too scared of me to bother. I don't know any other Serpents well enough to judge. Malachi and the Ghoulies are self-explanatory and Sweet Pea has the emotional range of a self-absorbed teaspoon with a temper. The only guy left is Reggie who hits on me relentlessly but is basically a walking STD so that’s a no." Ali listed off as they made their way down stairs and into the kitchen for family breakfast. 

"Mum Ali's being stupid again!" Izzy whined as they entered.

"You mean there was a point she stopped? Why didn't you call me Isabelle I would've grabbed my camera!" Rosie exclaimed. Her tone was serious, but her face was playful.

"I hate you both!" Ali scowled poking her tongue out playfully at the pair.

"When you made the deal, you didn't offer up any Serpent territory did you?" Ali questioned keeping her voice low so others wouldn't hear.

"The Wyrm and Sunnyside, I had no choice why?" He answered looking at Ali worriedly.

"Doesn't matter, just don't you dare lose. I'm not sharing the bar with a bunch of cannibalistic junkies with an attitude problem." Ali blew it off like it was nothing. She didn't want to put Jughead under any more stress. Jughead nodded moving back to continue his conversation with Archie. 

"Something tells me these were the wrong shoes to wear today!" Ali muttered making her way over to Toni and Fangs.

"Why's that princess?" The blonde-haired serpent that had grabbed Ali the night of the open house drawled. His gaze wandering all over Ali's body like she was a piece of meat.

"Because if I get blood on them when I turn you into a snake skin purse, It's going to take forever to get out." Ali spat, glaring coldly at the boy before her. 

"HEY! What did I tell you?! WHAT DID I FUCKING SAY!" Sweet Pea bellowed scowling menacingly at the Serpent. 

"Looks like I'm not the only one you pissed off." Ali sneered, chuckling when the boy shuffled uneasily on the spot avoiding looking at Ali all together. Ali's phone pinged with a new message that read; 'You did as you're told that’s a good girl. Time to finish what I started!' Ali's stomach churned when she realized who the messages were from. Malachi's second in command. 

"That weasel!" Ali hissed to herself spinning on her heels and strolling casually over to Malachi who was laughing and joking with one of his Muppets. 

"You lying rat! You sold me out! What the fuck Malachi?!" Ali hissed trying to hide the fear creeping up her throat.

"You really think I'd actually protect you? You're dumber than you look, good job you're cute otherwise we'd have messed up that pretty face of yours a long time ago." Malachi sneered turning to face Ali. A terrifying, bone shaking grin plastered on his pale face. "And this time, I'm coming to play too." 

"Over my dead body!" Ali spat stepping backwards and moving back to the safety of her friends. Unaware of the pair of eyes that had been glued to her since she arrived.

"Dude if you stare any harder your eyes will explode!" Toni muttered to Sweet Pea.

"What was she talking to HIM about and why does she look like she's about to throw up or pass out!" Sweet Pea quizzed just as Tall Boy strolled over calling for the race to start.

"If it bothers you That much, ask her." Toni instructed making her way over to start the race. Sweet Pea shook his head at his friends instructions. There's no way she'd talk to me. He thought turning to Fangs.

"Whatever it is I'm not doing it. You and Ali use me for your dirty work all the time. I'm putting my foot Down." Fangs insisted putting his hand up to silence Sweet Pea before he said anything.

"You get replaced Cha Cha?" Ali teased catching up with Toni as Cheryl took her place to start the race.

"She's a preppy snob but DAMN she's hot!" Toni replied cheering as the race began. The blood thirsty roars of engines that filled the air disappearing rapidly as the cars charged down the road.

"I know. If Only she liked girls too." Ali sighed sarcastically, winking at Toni as they walked over to where the other Serpents were gathering again. The girls stopped by Sweet Pea leaning either side of him for a moment before Ali decided she wanted to sit on the bonnet of the truck. 

"Watch yourself Fangs I'm swinging up." Ali warned giving Fangs enough time to move out the way before jumping up effortlessly and settling comfortably on the hood of the truck. Unaware that Sweet Pea had used this as an opportunity to swipe her phone from her pocket and start going through it. Guessing her password in one try. Izzy's birthday, how predictable. Sweet Pea thought as he began reading the messages from the unknown number.

"For Fuck Sakes Jones." Sweet Pea growled under his breath, but he wasn't quiet enough. He had attracted the attention of Ali who was now leaning forwards. Intrigued by what Jughead had done this time to rattle the tall Serpent.

"What's up Buttercup?" Ali chirped resting her head on Sweet Pea's shoulder, biting her lip when a waft of his cologne filled her nostrils. This is stupid since when did we notice things like peoples smell? Come on Ali pull yourself together! She thought frowning at herself. Turning her attention back to the familiar phone in front of her. Pausing a moment before realizing that it was her own phone she was looking at. 

"Um, Sweet Pea. Why do you have my phone? And why are you reading through my messages?" She questioned tilting her head to the side and frowning a little.

"Why didn't you tell him?" Sweet Pea growled turning to face Ali his face laced with concern and fury.

"I don't know what you're talking about Petal." Ali replied doing her best to sound as sincere as possible.

"Don't play games Ali. Why didn't you tell Jones about the messages?" Sweet Pea growled again his hands holding Ali's knees possessively as his gaze poured into Ali's eyes. Worry and rage turning his eyes a deadly shade of black that Ali was all too familiar with.

"It wouldn't have made a difference. I'm not a Serpent so it's not his concern." Ali shrugged looking warmly into his eye's. Her gaze alone was enough to both calm him down and scare the hell out of him at the same time. He couldn't let something so pure get destroyed by something as cruel and evil as the Ghoulies. 

"You know that's not true. Jones wouldn't have gone through with the race if he knew what was at stake. And what do they mean by that last message? Finish what they started?" Sweet Pea interrogated but they were interrupted before Ali got the chance to answer when a voice shouted from the crowd. Immediately sending the crowd scattering in a mad panic. Ali bolted to her bike throwing on her helmet and leaping onto her trusted Harley.

"Ali, My Trailer!" Fangs commanded flying past her at speed in the passenger seat of Toni's truck. Shortly followed by several Serpents on Bikes. Ali didn't waste any time kicking off and catching up with the group. Turning off to take a different route to Fangs' trailer. 

"Balls! This can't be good." Ali muttered spotting two ghoulies in her mirrors. She knew she couldn't bring them back to the trailer. That would just be utter mayhem. Fuck it! Quarry we go! Ali decided making a sharp U-turn doubling back on herself and tanking it towards the quarry, not noticing the Serpent trailing the ghoulies. 

Ali swiftly hid her bike behind a large tree trunk before two nasty looking Ghoulie cars pulled up blocking her escape. 

"Oh, Bugger and Balls there is a lot more than two of you! Come on lads this is hardly fair. There's like ten of you and these are my favourite heels. I'm hardly dressed for the occasion!" Ali whined, trying to bargain her way out of the inevitable fight that was about unfold. 

"Nice try Princess, we've got orders." A tall blonde snarled stepping menacingly towards Ali.

"Look. The boss is most definitely in a jail cell by now and won't be out for months. So why not just leave it for a bit. At least wait until I'm wearing my scruffs. I really don't want to get blood on my clothes." Ali bargained, a pleading smile resting on her gentle features.

"Why delay the inevitable?" The Ghoulie sneered, smiling wickedly as the boys behind him fell into step.

"Think about it logically. You have your orders yes? But Malachi is going to be far more pissed when he finally gets out, realizing that his opportunity to finish what his goon started, has been taken away because you bunch of myrmidons didn't think ahead. Think how pleased he'll be to be welcomed back with a perfect revenge plan. He's obviously already working on and a bonus prize." Ali continued, slowly trying to persuade the blood thirsty group to change their plans. 

"If you let me go today, I'll continue with my daily routine. Falling straight back into my happy bubble. The bubble dearest darling Malachi so desperately wants to pop, himself." Ali's manipulation technique slowly taking effect.

"She's got a point. As much as it pains me to say it. I agree with the Northsider. Why get her now when you can preserve her in her perfect preppy little Northsider form ready for when the boss gets out. I mean that's what I would do if it were me!" A voice agreed from behind the Ghoulies making everyone jump and turn. Revealing an overly laid-back Sweet Pea leaning against a beaten-up old truck. Clearly stolen by the ghoulies when they ditched their own cars.

"See, I can't believe I'm about to say this but even the snake has a brain and moderate sense of self preservation. All though that could use some improvement." Ali nodded pointing to the smug Serpent in agreement. 

"Please don't tell anyone I said the snake has a brain. It would be so humiliating." She added giving Sweet Pea a cheeky wink, edging towards him slyly. 

"I mean, we all know Serpents are probably one of the top ten dumbest creatures on Earth so to name your gang after them is just shameful really." Ali waffled as she slowly began backing up to Sweet Pea. Watching from the corner of her eye as he prepared himself to make a run to his bike.

"It could be worse I suppose." She paused hoping the blonde-haired boy would take the bait. He did.

"Oh? And how's that Princess?" The boy questioned mockingly.

"They could have called themselves Ghoulies!" She quipped quickly before turning tail and leaping onto the back of Sweet Peas bike. Heaving a sigh of relief as they made a break for it charging straight to Fangs place for back up.

"GOD DAMN IT ALI WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?" Sweet Pea roared the moment they arrived at Fangs' trailer. Scaring the hell out of everyone within a 10-mile radius. Sending Ali flying off the end of the bike. 

"YOU CAN'T KEEP YOUR MOUTH SHUT FOR 1 MINUTE CAN YOU? IF I HADN'T SHOWN UP WHEN I DID, THEY WOULD HAVE KILLED YOU!" Sweet Pea now fuming. His face red with rage and frustration.

"You can shut up! You helped! You AGREED!" Ali retorted scowling at the enraged giant.

"I HELPED YOU TALK YOUR WAY OUT OF IT. I DID NOT HOWEVER, AGREE TO YOU MAKING IT FUCKING WORSE! THAT COMMENT AT THE END ABOUT CALLING THEMSELVES GHOULIES!" Sweet Pea thundered making Ali chuckle. She was proud of that last comment. Which of course only made Sweet Pea even more furious.

"Oh, nip it bean pole. I didn't ask for your help. There's no law saying you have to help me or even be nice to me. So, save yourself the struggle and give it up. Pretending to care is clearly too difficult and painful for you. So stop. No ones buying the act anyway." Ali snapped. 

"I've told you before. I don't need a knight in shining armour and if I did it most definitely would Not. Be. You." Ali spat. How dare he assume she needed saving. 

Fangs and the rest of the troops stood speechless at these words, staring at his best friend. Sweet Pea held his furious glare on Ali, remaining to the outside world the same angry, hot headed, giant he had always appeared to be. But Fangs could see what was happening inside. The shatter of his friends heart. It was like Ali was the Bull and Sweet Pea was the china shop. Whilst the appearance was as stable and solid as always, the inside was a mess of broken shards and splinters. 

"FINE, DON'T COME RUNNING TO ME WHEN YOU GET YOUR ASS HANDED TO YOU!" Sweet Pea barked, glaring down at Ali.

"NEVER HAVE, NEVER WILL." Ali thundered, her voice deep with rage. Her face crumpled into a stone cold, stubborn rage. Suddenly flicking back to her usual happy smile. All signs of rage and aggression gone like the flick of a switch. Blowing away her anger like blowing dust off an old book. 

"After all, where I come from. They don't send boys to do a Woman's job." She smiled brushing past him gently, walking back towards the road. 

"Ali, where are you going?" Fangs called worriedly, it was too soon for her to be wandering around on her own. Especially after her encounter with the Ghoulies.

"Home, I have bread to make!" Ali called before setting off at a jog, disappearing behind a trailer. Fangs leapt forwards to catch up with her, but Sweet Pea stuck his hand out stopping him.

"Leave her. She made her bed, let her sleep in it." He growled coldly, all signs of hope and light that had been slowly growing in his eyes after meeting Ali had gone. Leaving his eyes colder and darker than before. This terrified Fangs. This was not good.

Ali set off at a jog that rapidly turned into a rage fuelled sprint. Her eyes welling up as her legs carried her down the winding roads leading home. The muscles in her legs burnt with a monstrous fire and her lungs felt as though they were about to burst. By the time she arrived home she was dripping head to toe in sweat. Her favourite heels now in desperate need of TLC and her entire body felt as though it was being flooded with Molten Lava. Rosie and Izzy had gone out for the day, running errands and finishing off paperwork so Ali had the house to herself. She quickly threw off her shoes and clothes, jumping in the shower to cool off before throwing on a sports bra and yoga shorts. She made her way into the kitchen throwing her hair up in a lazy plait so she could start making bread without it getting in the way. 

Fangs froze, he knew he needed to be there to comfort his friend. But Ali needed a friend too. He also knew that she was too stubborn to admit it. Jones will know what to do. He thought pulling out his phone and texting a quick message that read; 'Ali nearly got jumped by ghoulies - send BFF'. Turning to look at Sweet Pea once the message had sent. He looked angry and broken. 

"Beer?" Fangs offered in an attempt to raise his spirits. But he was in the mood for something much stronger. Sweet Pea grunted in response swinging back onto his bike and speeding towards the Wyrm. 

"This can't be good." Fangs muttered following in quick pursuit after him on his own bike.

"He's been here an hour and almost drunk us dry. Played practically everyone here and hit on like 3 girls. What the hell happened?" Toni demanded watching as Sweet Pea began making a move on a tall brunette who looked as though she had forgotten to get dressed this morning. 

"Ali snapped and basically told him to fuck off. Said he'd never be her knight in shining armour and that he didn't care about her." Fangs reported watching as his broken friend disappeared out the door followed by the overly flirty brunette. 

"It isn't good Toni, his eyes turned to stone. Its like staring into the abyss." 

"You stare into his eyes a lot then do you Fangs?" Toni asked tilting her head to the side and smirking.

"Shut up Topaz." Fangs scoffed grabbing his beer and making his way to the pool table leaving Toni working behind the bar.

Ali was half way through pummelling her second ball of bread dough, tears threatening to spring from her eyes and turn into a small-scale version on Niagara Falls, when she heard the familiar singing call of her best friend. 

"Honey I'm Home!" Cheryl sang bursting through the door carrying 2 large bottles of wine and a stack of chipped white plates. 

"Thought you could use one these and all of these!" Cheryl smiled pouring Ali a large glass of red wine and dumping the pile of plates on the stand by the back door. 

"I also brought my bow and arrow." She added pouring herself a glass and rolling her sleeves up.

"How in the hell did you know?" Ali asked, a mixture of humour and seriousness in her voice. 

"Hobo and Nancy Drew told me. Come on, lets smash some plates and you can tell me what happened." She smiled dragging Ali away from her station and shoving a very large glass of wine into her hands. 

"He was so condescending and sexist. Do I look like someone who needs to be protected? Like some freaking glass flower that needs to be guarded at all times? How DARE he treat me like a damsel in distress. He acted like I'd break a leg if I was to walk on my own! Misogynistic. Sexist. Condescending. Pig Headed. Serpent Boy Scout!" Ali ranted her voice getting louder with each word until she was practically screaming. Cheryl had never seen one person rattle her so much, except Nick St. Clair of course. Plates smashing left right and centre as Ali vented all her aggression and pent up rage.

"Should've brought more plates!" Cheryl observed as the large pile of china shattered in the space of ten minutes. 

Ali spent the next couple of weeks filling her time with work, cheerleading practice and tutoring. Leaving no time for outside socializing. Her weekends were spent in the garage picking up as many jobs as she could. Izzy would've felt left out if Ali hadn't spent every Sunday teaching her everything she knew.

"Hey Ali, I need to talk to you. It's about Penny Peabody." Uncle Gary called, his voice shaken with worry and shame. His gaze fixed on the ground in front of him as he fiddled with the beanie in his hands.

"The lawyer? What about her?" Ali inquired rolling out from under a black SUV, peering up at her Uncle in concern.

"She pulled us out of a jam a few months back. They said not to go to her, but she was the only one I could trust since not everything is by the book. And now she's calling in on her favour." He admitted sheepishly, shame wearing heavy on his face.

"Oh god! She's already got Juggie under her thumb. It was only yesterday that I had to go and rescue the boys from a flat tire at some unsightly time in the morning." Ali grumbled, but she could see how much it pained her uncle to come to her for help. 

"What am I getting up to tonight then?" She asked brightly.

"I'm sorry to ask this of you Ali but I don't know where else to turn." Uncle Gary began with a heavy sigh. "I need you to break into Penny's office and wipe the computer clean. She has a video of me doing something outside the law-" 

"Dropping off drugs." Ali interrupted casually. 

"Sorry, carry on." Ali added apologetically when her uncle heaved an annoyed sigh at her.

"As I was saying, I need you to get rid of the footage." Gary finished. 

"Sounds like fun. There's a computer virus I've been wanting to try out that is perfect for the job. Simple in and out job, in the lair of a Snake Charming drug pusher. What could go wrong?" Ali replied positively. 

"I'll head over tonight after dark. So much for staying away from sin huh" Ali joked sliding back under the SUV to continue her work.

That night Ali threw on her old all black outfit of, skinny jeans, skin tight hooded jacket, hat, leather gloves, combat boots and a bandana to cover her face. It was scary how prepared she was for breaking and entering. Fastening her thigh knife holsters and grabbing the infected USB stick before creeping down stairs. Only to find Izzy and Rosie stood at the foot of the stairs each holding a pair of throwing knives out for her. 

"Don't. Even. Bother." Rosie said firmly. She was clearly very annoyed with how her brother in law was using his niece like this. But it wasn't the first time Ali had stepped outside the realms of the law.

"Better to be prepared Ali-Cat." Izzy reminded her as Ali slide the knives into their slots in the holster. Smiling when her mum handed her a small pale blue lock picking set. 

"We also think it would be best if you don't break the doors." Izzy added when Ali accepted the set placing it in the breast pocket of her leather jacket.

"I'll be fine mum. I promise. Peabody's out on a drug run so there’s no way she'll catch me." Ali reassured before disappearing out the door into the deadly silence of the night.

"It's not her I'm worried about, it's the Black Hood. Your Uncle would ask this of her tonight of all nights, wouldn't he?" Rosie muttered worriedly, watching as the tail lights of Ali's trusty Harley disappeared into the thick black ocean of uncertainty.