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hoe-imaginess · 4 years ago

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vanilla | dabi

very alpha!Dabi x fem omega!Reader

summary: Dabi isn’t aware that the LoV has an omega up for grabs, not until he accidentally comes across you in heat.

word count: 11.7k

contains: dub-con elements, scent kink, humiliation, masturbation, hella dirty talk, mentions of blood/burns, Dabi being an all around bastard

a/n: commissioned by K to share part of my ABO fic. Most ABO stuff makes me squeamish so I leave out token tropes (aka knots) another private fic that I didn’t plan on posting so it’s kinda uhhhhh bad lmao. will possibly post more but idk.

DON'T let the title mislead you ok Dabi is anything but vanilla

⤰

When he found the safehouse, Dabi knocked at the front entrance.

For a long time there was no response, and he tried again, louder this time and with more exasperation.

“Coming,” he heard a shout finally, muffled across the steel door.

Dabi rubbed his eyes to put some pressure behind them, in hopes it might too take that same pressure away from the sting in his nose.

Some heady omega in the area was in heat, and a bad one; the entire neighborhood reeked of the tantalizing aroma.

He groaned, jaw tensing, and with practiced composure put the fire down in his body. He had enough of it running under his skin every second of the day in the form of his quirk. He didn’t need any more. But it was getting worse the longer he waited there with that smell tiding in the air.

He didn’t even know why he was there, doing such a chore, in the first place.

Maybe it was because this League of Villains business was a promising crusade; he’d heard good things and seen for himself some profit in the affiliation, even despite how profusely he disliked the weird hand-guy, or how awkward the black fog in a suit could be.

The other recruit, Toga—who he found as equally disagreeable as the rest—had all but blindsided him that evening as he exited the dainty bar which they called headquarters.

Could you do me a favor, Dabi? she’d entreated with an attempt at innocent, girl-like charm: a tactic which, as it usually did, failed. The manic grin on her face had only made him want to be away from her company all the sooner.

No, he’d said, and pushed past her.

But she’d skipped after him, steadfast.

Tomura had asked her to run an errand in one of the more dangerous parts of the city, she’d said, but she wasn’t sure what to do. She was just a girl, after all. Couldn’t Dabi do her this one favor and take the responsibility off her hands? She was too nervous to take a trip like that, and so late in the night.

Bullshit, he’d said, but instead of protesting in defense of herself, she’d just giggled like a lunatic, dropping her pretense.

Still, when she said it was a delivery which needed to be made to you, the only member of the League he had yet to officially meet, curiosity pinched him.

Indifferent as he was to comradery, he was undeniably interested in unearthing the particulars of this would-be villainous syndicate, which included being at least somewhat familiar with his allies. He knew you had been an original member even before he and the psycho schoolgirl came into the fold; but little else.

You needed a delivery to be made to one of the League’s safehouses? Well, maybe he could oblige, if only to snoop around. Shigaraki was particularly fastidious with the information he willfully shared, and Dabi would take any opportunity to filch information under the boss’s nose in stride.

After all, if Toga, a new—and undoubtedly incompetent—recruit was being tasked with these deliveries, why not Dabi? Why not Kurogiri, who could make the shipment with ease given his quirk?

What was going on behind the scenes that Dabi wasn’t seeing?

Underwhelming as his first task as a newcomer would be, he saw it as an opportunity. He could be a good and useful asset to the League just for the night, he’d decided, when he told Toga he would do it. He was headed to that side of town anyways, he’d said.

So there he found himself, his foot tapping impatiently on the ground as he waited outside the safehouse.

That goddamn scent that wafted around the building... Why did he feel as though he’d smelled it before? And why did it smell so… sickeningly sweet?

He tried to distract himself by musing over what might have solicited these late-night deliveries, for example: what was in this suitcase he was meant to give you.

Toga had handed it to him with such a twisted, giddy smile on her face that he was half-convinced it was a bomb ready to blow and scatter him into pieces for her sick delight. Once he’d found it locked, he’d given up on guessing the contents after he shook the thing and the rattling inside gave no indication of the secrets it held.

More distraction, he entreated himself.

He thought of the itch of his staples, the uncomfortable tingle on his ridged skin when the air brought heavy wind against it. He thought of anything that might take away from the smell of raw heat in the area, but it was an instinctual pull that left him fidgeting where he stood.

He was about ready to leave the suitcase at the door and hit the road, when there was a commotion from across the threshold.

The aroma that burst from the opening door completely smothered him, made every bone in his body feel like smoldering steel; made lightning shoot down his veins and a low breath catch in his lungs.

You blanked when you saw him there, your pupils blowing wide with shock, then, if he read it correctly, fear.

He sniffed hard, his body scrambling for a source to the scent that begged his alpha inclinations to go wild. The inhalation sent pinpricks of warmth down to his feet. The smell was overwhelming now, almost dizzying.

And it was coming from you.

“Fuck,” he spat, and covered his nose with his arm, backing away from the door.

You slammed it shut, your heart racing.

“What are you doing here?!” you demanded.

“Came to give you this goddamn shit,” he snapped, throwing the suitcase at the door. It landed with a violent thud. His limbs jerked with frayed nerves, like the sun was heating his skin and crawling down to his center. “Are you an idiot!? You know I’m an—”

“I do that’s why I wanted Toga to bring it—”

“She had me do it,” he shouted, and backed himself against the opposite alley wall, a hand clenching and unclenching against his clothed thigh.

Goddamn your smell. Goddamn it. Like vanilla. Horribly sweet. So fucking potent.

He threw his head back against the wall, ignoring the throbbing pain it kneaded into his skull, and breathed hard.

He wanted to bust down the door. His legs twitched at the impulse; fingers tensed and flames licked their tips.

It would be easy. Kick it down. Burn it down. Burn the whole goddamn place down if need be. He wanted to force his way in, wanted to claw at your clothes and shove himself inside you—

Instead he took another deep breath, and loosed it on a shaky sigh.

He’d handled omega heats before, why was he like this now? Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. This was too much.

“You need to leave,” you muttered from the other side of the door, so resolute and aggrieved that he would have never guessed you were keeled over on the floor, legs shut tight and body shivering. His alpha smell was nauseating you; it was strong and dominating and demanding that you open yourself to him. “Now.”

“Yeah I’m goin',” he snapped angrily, storming off down the alley once his legs restored their loyalty to his head, and not what was between his legs. “Fuck."

⤰

Dabi stroked himself hard and fast and rough, nose pressed into his sleeve, breathing in the sweet tang of vanilla that lingered between the fibers.

He growled out his next breath, and it sputtered off into a wobbly sigh as he closed his eyes and thought of you: those perfect tits he was sure you were hiding under your clothes; your ass, which would look like nice, he knew, with his handprints burned onto the skin; and then your cunt—fuck, he could almost imagine how tight it was, how hotly it would grip him and milk every last fucking drop of his cum—the mere vision of it pink and twitching and spread out for him was like an explosive punch to his gut.

He came in thick, hot spurts, some rolling over his knuckles as he quickly twisted his fist over the cockhead, others staining the brick wall in front of him with ropey, white streaks.

“Fuck,” he panted, chest heaving, limbs trembling. A hand shot to the wall and braced himself there for balance, kept him upright while his quivering knees threatened to fail him.

When was the last time he’d even had to rub one out like this? In a dirty fucking alley? And least of all because of some stupid omega?

Goddamn you, he thought.

⤰

“Dabi!” Toga squealed when he returned to the bar later in the morning. She sniffed the air, breathed in his smokey scent, and flashed a hungry smile, tongue dipping out to wet her eager lips. “You smell so strong. Are you worked up?” Then her eyes were bright and thrilled. “Oh? Oh?! Did you see _____-chan? Did you?"

“Yeah, you crazy idiot.” Dabi slammed the bar door shut behind him. "You just forget to mention that she was in heat?”

Shigaraki, who’d been previously uninterested in the debacle, now looked up from his game. “What?”

Toga giggled. “Oh yeah, I forgot about that. Did you smell her? Oh, it’s so nice, isn’t it?” The girl’s eyes twitched and rolled back loftily in ravenous remembrance. “_____-chan smells so sweet. So sweet—”

“You caught her in heat?” Shigaraki asked, accusative but curious. “Are you stupid?"

Scowling, Dabi jerked a thumb at Toga. “Dipshit over here had me take some stuff over to that safehouse you got. I didn’t fuckin’ know."

“You dumb girl,” Shigaraki snapped, turning on her now. “Are you brain dead? Or do you really not get why omegas hide from alphas during heats? Why do you think we have a beta like you go do deliveries now?”

“I know what happens!” she contended. “I thought she could use some company. She smells so delicious. Was it fun, Dabi? Was it fun and romantic and—”

“Try infuriating,” Dabi spat, then set his anger on Shigaraki. “You’re no better. Either of you.” He nodded his head at Kurogiri behind the bar. “Would’ve been nice to know you had an unmated omega in your group.”

“Thought you’d noticed by now,” Shigaraki replied, now somewhat subdued, and tending to his game again. “What, your nose doesn’t work?”

“It works fuckin’ fine. Just didn’t realize that scent you got around here all the time was hers.”

In recollection, he put his sleeve over his nose. The sweet smell had vanished, but the memory of it still haunted his senses, made every nerve in his body flutter with excitement. It was driving him fucking insane.

“How the hell do you two work with an omega?” Dabi asked. “That gets heats like that, no less.”

“We’re not animals,” the leader replied. “Some of us can handle it.”

“My ass. Guessin’ that’s the reason she’s never around, huh? You don’t seem very disciplined. Bet you catch one whiff of that slick and go completely ape shit.”

Shigaraki scowled, affronted.

“It was our mistake not warning you,” Kurogiri conciliated the blame, clearly nervous, and possibly displeased by the crass talk. “We were under the impression that you knew. We’ve taken steps to lessen the risk in our years together. We are somewhat… desensitized.”

“Good for you,” Dabi muttered. “I ain’t. A heads up would’ve been nice.”

“Now you know,” Shigaraki said, scratching peevishly at his neck. “Stop complaining. You’ll get used to it.”

Dabi tsked. “Yeah, you better hope I do.” Then he stalked off.

“Did you do that on purpose?” Shigaraki asked Toga once the other alpha had departed.

Toga keened happily, still enamored with Dabi’s untamed scent. Alphas were so delicious when worked up.

“I forgot,” she insisted dreamily. “Honest, I did.”

“That was a very risky mistake,” Kurogiri was saying, black vapors flitting nervously about his frame. “As a beta, you may not be aware of the risks that both alphas and omegas face when it comes to positions of power–”

Toga pouted and whined, like a child whose gleeful imagination had been thwarted. “I don’t get it. I was just doing them both a favor. Alphas are supposed to take of omegas in heat, aren’t they? What’s the big deal?” She had a stupid smile on her face again, rapt with thoughts of desire. “It must be so nice as an alpha, getting to take any little omega you want… they’re so needy.”

“The big deal, you damn idiot,” Shigaraki started, “is that a guy like that is too selfish to put our objectives before his prick. There’s a reason we don’t mess with that heat and rutting crap here. Complicates things. Makes everyone go crazy. Like you.”

She tittered like a lunatic, proud of her indignity. “She smells so good, Tomura. It’s not fair. Not fair at all.”

⤰

After your heat, once you’d returned to the bar, you ignored Dabi to the best of your ability.

At first, he seemed content enough to reciprocate the caution. You both treaded carefully: any eye-contact made would be swiftly curtailed with averted gazes; you cleared a room whenever he entered, and vice versa, he acted as though you were invisible to him.

It would be fine, you’d told yourself. You’d dealt with the ugly dynamics your omega lifestyle wrought countless times. You could do it again. Dabi was a new recruit, after all. Promising—albeit coarse—according to Tomura. His contribution to the team far outweighed the plights of your personal struggles. You would be fine. It would be fine.

But those lofty self-reassurances were short-lived.

You were sitting in one of the bar’s empty rooms when he sought you out. You smelled him before he rounded the corner, and fear gripped you when the alpha bouquet invaded your senses. But then something else came to seek your submission: an instinctual calling on the wisps of his scent, bringing an anxious and conflicting nostalgia back to you.

God his smell had followed you for days: a smokey aroma, but something so fresh underneath it, like cold mint. You’d never been so enthralled by a scent before, never been so tempted to give in to carnal desire and offer yourself to a being nature had designated as your superior: an alpha.

He stood in the doorway of the room, just looking at you; you stared back, frozen, and made yourself small in hopes that you might avoid whatever confrontation was to come.

“Your heats always that stupidly strong?” he asked.

You blanched and took a deep breath to quell your unease. You wished to anything that the world would swallow you and take you away from what was undoubtedly going to be one of the worst, most uncomfortable confrontations of your life.

“Yes,” you said. “That’s why I have to go away.”

“Why? I mean, most omegas do it. Usually to work it out themselves, right? Bet that little delivery I made was a bunch of toys, wasn’t it?”

“No,” you said, feeling embarrassed by the mere speculation. “It was a suppressant. They don’t usually work on me... I’m trying to find the right one.”

The broad smirk that shifted his scarring tissue made you shift uncomfortably. “Suppressants are useless if your heat is too strong. That shit was bad. The smell is ridiculous. You clearly ain't doing somethin' right if it’s always that potent.”

You shivered at the mention of your scent. It was always what they mentioned—the alphas. They always raved about your scent: like sweet candy, some said. Most often, vanilla. The sniff of it on your very nose was nauseating after so long: an inescapable quality that put you in the crosshairs of nearly every alpha you’d met, made you frightfully easy prey to their predator.

“I’ve...” Shit, should you be sharing this with him? Normally you did, with most alphas you were acquainted with. Especially those you trusted. But you didn’t trust him. You barely knew him. “I’ve never... been rutted properly. So, they’re stronger. The heats.”

“Never been rutted through a heat?” he asked, scoffing. “Sounds miserable. You’re all backed up, aren’t ya? That’s why you struggle with your scent so much.”

You were quiet. You met his interrogation more confidently than you previously thought possible, given how successfully he’d intimidated you up until now. But your fear was draining away slowly, giving way to some sense of adeptness.

Memories of his scent had haunted your every bodily cell since the moment you’d first experienced it. Although facing it again now was overwhelming, you’d steeled yourself since then.

It would be okay, you reminded yourself. Conferring with allied alphas was only a necessary tack if you were going to keep the peace.

“I have, obviously,” you answered. “I’ve been rutted through a heat. But, it’s not the same if it’s not with… well—”

“An alpha?” he finished, and couldn’t help the surprise on his face. “You’ve never been with an alpha in your heat?”

You shook your head. And then there it was, the returning frailty so thick that it seized the room. Why were you so humiliated to speak your truths? They were truths, after all, under his harsh gaze or not.

“…I’ve never been with an alpha at all.”

He actually laughed. “Nah. You’re lying.”

“I’m not.”

“Never even fooled around a bit?”

“No."

A wry, callous grin stretched his staples. He tilted his head and hummed curiously. “You afraid? Of alphas?”

“No.”

“Yeah, you are.”

“I’m not.”

“Omegas are normally dyin’ to get laid when they’re in heat. Especially when they’re surrounded by alphas they actually know, like you are. Would be one thing if you were locking yourself up to hide from strangers, but you’re not. Gross as that hand-guy is, he seems like he’d rut for ya."

“I just don’t... want it.”

“Nah. You’re scared. I can tell. Should’ve seen that look on your face the other day, damn near terrified—like I was gonna jump on you any second.”

You bristled with agitation, frustration invited back in full bloom now that your confidence was weakened. “Sorry if I don’t trust you,” you returned with grim sarcasm. “You’re not very… decent, to put it plainly.”

“Decent? Nah, I’m not. Alphas aren’t supposed to be. But that’s why you’re all nervous, right?”

“I don’t…” You shook your head, thoughts tripping over one another. “My quirk makes it difficult,” you admitted, and bit your tongue shortly afterwards.

”Your quirk?”

You swore it was his pheromones making you talk, clouding your judgment and wringing admissions from you. “Alphas and omegas dealing with ruts or heats… it compromises their quirks sometimes, I’m sure you know. Makes them uncontrollable and disorderly. I don’t want that to happen to me. Heats are bad enough on their own. Actually getting rutted through one…” You shrugged, vulnerable to be sharing your fears. “I don’t know. I heard it can go wrong. It would be too much.”

“Oh.” He snickered. “Afraid you’re gonna get too horny and flip out or something?”

Heat primed your cheeks in a blush. “No. I mean… In a way. But, thats not what I really meant–”

“So you just run away whenever you’re in heat? ‘Cause you don’t know how to handle it? That’s sad. Bet you wouldn’t be such a stuck up mess if you just let someone rut you through it, at least once. That’s what you’re supposed to do. Forget suppressants. Not just that,” he snickered, and smirked slyly, “it’s awfully unfair of you to be such a prude when you’ve got a bunch of alphas around."

You shivered, not simply noticing, but feeling his eyes pore over you. “They’re not interested.”

“Fuck that. Don’t know if you heard sweetheart, but omegas are made for us to fuck and breed.”

“No,” you said, almost indignantly, “they aren’t.” To be reduced to something so primitive and incidental put anger in your veins. It was a sore, but inevitable topic you were unfortunate to suffer so often.

“Yeah. They are. Don’t know how that hand-creep hasn’t tried to jump your bones yet. I sure as shit would have, by now.”

Then, considering his words, he made a curious frown. “Unless you hide to keep away from that guy.” As he thought of these depraved illustrations in his head, put pieces of his own mused puzzle together, the grim smile returned. “Yeah. I can see that. Putting your own sanity on the line because you don’t wanna provoke your boss. You’d rather scurry off than deal with that guy. You really are scared of alphas, huh?”

“No,” you spat. “Tomura is…“ God, you hated this, hated how his smell was driving you crazy, making you pliant. “Tomura doesn’t need distractions. He’s not very… well-equipped to handle these sort of things.”

You wouldn’t mention how the visual of Tomura’s hands gripping you with alpha-driven need, unwittingly cursing your skin with his quirk, obliging your flesh to break away under his clutches and slowly split you open was a terror that kept you awake some nights.

“I stay out of the way for both our sakes,” you said, shaking the fearsome thoughts away. “Everything works out fine the way it is. We want it this way. We know how to focus on our mission and that only."

He shrugged, unconvinced. “Sure, gotta keep the peace or whatever. Don’t wanna turn the League into a rut fest. Puttin’ the greater good over their alpha needs, over what’s in their pants."

You frowned at him, displeased with the vulgarity.

He snickered to see it. “Commendable of them and all that. But…” He pushed from the wall he’d leaned against and came towards you. You inched away, heart beating fast at the sudden approach. “I’m a little more radical about this stuff, I guess you could say. I think you’d be much more useful if you weren’t so pent up.”

When he crouched down in front of you, you backed into the wall that you sat against, but there was no room for escape. He wasn’t smiling now, only perusing you with expressionless intensity. You tried to suppress a shiver when his eyes rolled down your body.

“Never really been all that concerned with this sort of stuff, not gonna lie. I’ll rut when I need to. Otherwise shit starts getting complicated and I can’t think straight.” He shrugged. “But in case you haven’t noticed, my body ain’t all that suited for frantic ruts. I try to take it easy, if possible. But… I always thought it was a little dumb that we’re engineered to think with what’s between our legs, most of the time.”

And so saying, his warm had slid between your partially opened thighs, which shivered at his touch and clamped together quickly to deny him.

But he wasn’t deterred, and shoved against the resistance, slipping the invading hand under your skirt.

“Stop,” you demanded, breath automating into nervous pants. In sudden fear of being happened upon by the others, you glanced around feverishly, your feet shuffling on the ground to push you back against the wall.

“Stop, now.” Your hands were on his arm, trying to push him away. “Dabi,” you insisted, trying to sound firm. But it did little to deter him.

“See? Bet if you weren’t so damn skittish you’d be putting up a real fight.” His hand finally broke through the tight resistance of your thighs, and his fingers pressed against your underwear. They were damp to the touch.

He laughed, and stroked over the wetness with his knuckle, making you keen and try to pull away.

“Ridiculous,” he muttered, looking down between your trembling thighs. “Unless you were playing with yourself before I got here, I’m guessin’ this is because of me?”

He took the wet fabric between his two fingers and rubbed together. “And what’d I do for you to get like this? You’re not even in heat. And I’ve barely got a scent on me right now. We’re just talking, ______. You really that hot for me, sweetheart?”

At the sound of your name coming from his mouth, gravelly and low, you shuddered, and put an arm over your mouth to keep in a stammering moan. But his other hand came and pulled the limb away.

“Please,” you stuttered out. “Stop.”

“Am I the first alpha who’s touched you like this?” he asked, ignoring your plea.

Your thighs tightened around him again, and one of your hands went to his collar, squeezing into it in meager resistance.

That too he ignored, and looked at you with plain impatience. “Am I?”

You whimpered and nodded, unable to form words when your lips were stuck harshly bitten between your teeth.

“Yeah, thought so.”

Then his thumb worked its cruel intentions and circled your clit. The pathetic gasp he received in turn made him chuckle.

“Nah. See, this isn’t supposed to happen.” His thumb pressed harder and your head knocked back against the wall. “I’ve seen some pretty slutty omegas, but this is plain stupid.”

“I’m—” You practically hiccuped through a whine, and squeezed your eyes shut, your quirk threatening to reveal itself, answering the calls of your panic and ready to defend against his assault. “I’m not a slut—”

He brushed up on your clit hard and you whimpered, defense all but surmounted.

“Okay, fine. You’re not a slut. You’re just damn sensitive because you’ve never given your body what it needs.” He grinned his wicked grin. “An alpha.”

You shook your head. “No—”

“Yes.”

You shook it vigorously now, and your hands came back to life, pushing at him. “No.”

“Yes, _____,” he breathed, laughing. “I thought you were supposed to be smart. Alpha, omega, whatever—those instincts make your brain all mushy if you don’t get it under control. You’ve got some dissonance going on in your head. You’re really letting yourself go because of it. You wanna be a good ally for your boss, but you can’t, because you’re too scared to—"

“I’m not,” you insisted, eyes wrenching themselves open to look at him. He was amused, depravedly amused, but still remarkably composed for how ruthlessly he was teasing you. “I just don’t want it–”

He snorted loudly, and you were sure the sound would echo and bring someone upon the spectacle. “You don’t want it? Seriously? Now you’re just in denial.”

His fingers coiled around your panties and shoved against your bare skin; your pussy was wet and warm to the touch.

“I can smell your slick, holy fuck,” he muttered. For the first time, though everything up until this point had been cruelly entertaining but not entirely stimulating, he felt his cock twitch, and his mouth water. He hummed. “Bet you taste like vanilla, too, don’t you?”

“St-stop,” you stuttered, face going hot with embarrassment, hiding it against your shoulder as if it would help mitigate the fluster.

He let go of the arm he’d been restraining, put a hand on your knee, and tried to push your legs open. He was surprised when met with resistance; you kept your thighs locked together like a vice, making it substantially more difficult to move his fingers on your clit the way he wanted.

He scoffed.

“Open your legs,” he demanded of you, and felt your body twitch at the command.

He looked at you, and was pleased to find you staring back, wide-eyed and jolted. His blue eyes narrowed autocratically.

He spoke his command slower, but with more authority, “Open them. Now."

And when you did, he let out a breathy laugh of satisfaction, and admired the mess of wetness between your thighs. “See? See how easy that was?”

One hand gripped the soft flesh of your thigh—shit, the skin was practically begging for his teeth to sink in, to make you bleed, to mark you—while the occupied continued its ministrations, fingers jerking quickly over your pink clit.

"What if I were some enemy tryin’ to get some information out of you, huh? You’d probably spill everything about the League to another alpha the second he gave your pussy any attention. Shit,” he laughed, head cocking curiously as he played with the folds of your cunt, “I’m just teasin' you a little and you’re already dripping, for one. For two, following my every command like a good little whore.”

You shook your head, wordless in your denial. You thought you could taste blood in your mouth from your own lips, teeth digging in harshly to give your body any sensation to distract from the burgeoning pleasure. Your nerves were trampling over one another, all of them somehow alight with fire, but numb all the same.

“Imagine what I, or any other alpha, really, could get you to do with a cock inside you. Ever think of that? And if you were in heat?” He scoffed. “Forget it. You’re pretty much a liability at this point. Don’t know why the hell your boss keeps you around. It’s pathetic.”

Bracing both hands on his shoulders, you loosed a strangled moan of frustration, fingers biting into his clothes, pressing against the lean muscle beneath. He didn’t seem to care, too focused on the pink, twitching flesh now turning red from his fingers' abuse. He swiped his pointer and middle across your clit in a dizzying pace, until the tendons in his wrists burned and his knuckles ached. But your scent… fuck, the fucking scent—

He prided himself on his practiced fortitude against alpha instincts; his body, wracked by the toll of his quirk, was vulnerable as it was. Willpower was necessary to stave off the feral hunger that often made him forget his own fragility and indulge the fierceness of ruts and heats. It always ended with loose staples and bloody rivulets along his skin. Self-aware as he was of his own limitations, he so rarely let himself indulge his body’s desires.

But fuck if you weren’t testing him.

You were close, you knew, your body spasming and breath catching in every interval. You panicked, tried to fight it, but it was as though his fingers had caged your volition somewhere in the back of your mind, and instead propagated all senses to pleasure.

“Fucking tease,” he muttered under his breath, but you barely heard him above the frenzied din in your brain.

Just as you felt something in you stirring irrevocably, both his hands left you, and he stood to his feet.

You nearly toppled over, and spilt over yourself awkwardly to try and catch yourself on the ground. The wet slide between your thighs was horribly palpable, and horribly embarrassing.

You panted as you gathered yourself, looking up at him in flustered awe as you shut your thighs and protectively shoved your skirt back into place.

He was admiring his fingers, the wetness coating them, and when he noticed your gaze, waved them at you teasingly. “See this?”

So wet, you thought, humiliated, as a sticky strand started to spill from his finger. You shivered, your face sweltering and flushed.

“This is your body’s way of telling you that it’s beggin’ to be filled.”

You shuddered, and held yourself miserably, trying to fight the unsatisfied heat in your veins with calming breaths. “You’re horrible,” you whispered, your mouth dry.

“Nah. I’m being a nice guy. The only smart one around here, too, looks like.”

He licked at his fingers, a shudder going down his spine when he tasted the sweetness. It was unreal. “This is ridiculous. You wouldn’t have to worry so much about scurrying away from alphas if your smell wasn’t so strong. If you’re heat wasn’t so strong. And none of it would be, if you just did what you were made to do. You’re repressed. Backed up as hell—”

“I wasn’t made to do anything,” you argued, frustration returning.

“You can keep sayin’ it, but it doesn’t make it any less true. You’re more trouble than you’re worth, honestly. Got everyone jumpin’ through hoops for you because you’re so damn sensitive. I ain’t gonna do that.”

You sat there in a heap, fidgeting uncomfortably and fighting for any sense of self-determination you could. He’d said his scent was scant, but you swore it was filling the room, pulping your thoughts and dizzying your nauseous head.

“Clearly you’ve been stuck with some pretty underwhelming alphas until now,” he said. “So I’m gonna do you a favor. Next time you’re in heat, find me, and I’ll do something about it.”

He wiped his dirtied fingers on his shirt, then left you there.

⤰

A month later, Dabi got a call.

“What?” he answered curtly, thinking it was Shigaraki from a burner number. The boss did that sometimes, despite there being little need for throwaways. It was theatrical and annoying.

“It’s me.”

After a pause of non-recognition, you sighed, “It’s ______.”

“Oh?” You could hear the smile in his voice.

In the alley, Dabi admired the burning body he’d just finished off, the corpse kindling his blue flames nicely as it crumbled to ash.

He laughed lowly. “Yeah. Been about a month, hasn’t it. You had some time to think sweetheart?”

From the other end, you bit your lip. “I have rules.”

Something seeped into his blood and swelled within him. Like a breeze carried from somewhere far off, he got a whiff of your sweet scent, just a ghost of it, and licked his lips.

“Seems a little over the top,” he said. “But I’m listening.”

There was a sound in the alley behind him, and he glanced over his shoulder.

You took a deep breath on the other end, nervously playing with the hem of your shirt. “I’ll be at a different place tonight. Another safehouse, down by the docks. The first rule is that when you get here, you have to—”

Dabi heard the cocking of a gun. The disdainful comrade of the dead, scorched man had the weapon raised and trained on him, spouting some threatening nonsense of vengeance. The flame-wielder huffed in annoyance.

“Can’t really talk right now,” he spoke into the receiver, his hands brightening with his quirk. “I’ll find the place. Better not get cold feet.”

“Dabi—”

But he hung up before you could say more.

⤰

You waited for the better half of the evening shot to pieces with doubt.

You’d gone over the situation a dozen times, and twice that number decided the uncontrollable confusions weren’t worth second-guessing; dictating right and wrong left you light-headed when your body was already a frenzied playground of sensation thanks to your heat.

You started to text him the address when midnight rolled around, just in case he’d gotten lost—then thought better of it. The uncertain doublet came again: You couldn’t do this. It was dangerous. You hadn’t witnessed Dabi’s brutality firsthand, but the hearsay was worrisome enough. He would break you. It would end horribly. Your quirk, or even his, would lash out—

Then the other half of the fretful analysis: Yes. You could do this. It was natural. It was true what he’d said, about you neglecting your body’s desires, and in turn leaving room only for self-sabotage. The thought of him drove you wild with uncertainty, but so did the notion of not doing this; your body was raging at the absence of touch. One which he was apparently willing to give.

Finally you called him, nerves scattered and patience thinned, deciding that whatever he had to say to you on the other line would determine whether or not you should carry on with your plans.

Almost as soon as you heard the ringing from the other line, so too did a chirpy noise come from right outside the safehouse door: a phone.

You blanched. Before you could make toward the door, the metal lever twisted with a creak and opened. He was there on the other side with his phone in hand, and lifted it teasingly when his eyes found you in the dim room.

“If you’re callin’ to give me directions, waste of time,” he said as he slunk inside. “I can smell you across the damn street.”

You shivered, smelling him, too: he radiated a warm scent, then that icy undertone which always perplexed you in the most enticing way.

He shut the door behind him, locked it, and inspected you. He huffed in amusement to see how nervous you were.

“You said you had some rules,” he started, coming towards you. Your heart started skipping. “Sounds like a lot of bullshit, so I wasn’t gonna remind you. But I guess if it’ll stop you from chickening out halfway…”

His hands were on you in an instant, at your sides, squeezing and kneading the flesh underneath your shirt. You froze. The dumbfounded look on your face had him smirking.

“Not that you’ll be able to once I get started,” he went on. “Or even want to. Probably gonna forget you even had rules once I stick it in you.”

The hands went down, gripped your ass, and brought your bodies together. You braced yourself against his forearms, stuttering when he wasted no time and pressed his face into your jaw, licking, kissing, teasing you with teeth.

Your eyes fluttered closed, mouth hanging open as he traveled down. At his touch, your mind slowed to blind submission. The excitement was stroking a fire in you that you hadn’t even known was there.

Fuck, it was too much. Already, too much.

“You gonna tell me?” he asked between kisses. "Or you already forgot?”

As he moved to your neck, he inhaled sharply through his nose. The sweet scent stirred a frenzy in his gut.

“Fuck.” The hands at your ass squeezed so hard that you gasped. “Goddamn girl,” he laughed breathily, grinding against you. “That shit’s good.”

“I—" You choked on your next words when he spread your thighs apart from behind, fingers curling under your skirt to feel for your panties. “The rules, I—”

“You better spit it out,” he warned, coming up to look at you, eyes fixed with hunger. “I’m not a patient guy. I’m really gonna pounce on you in a second if you don’t get on with it.”

It struck apprehension into you. You breathed out the words hurriedly, “Don’t mate me. Don’t give me a mating mark—”

He laughed in your face, making you blush, then went back to kissing at your neck.

“Didn’t plan on it. Don’t want a mate. Probably never will.” He kissed hard at your neck, breathed in your scent again with a hum. “Besides, even if I did, you’re not bad looking and I know your cunt’s gonna be nice and tight, but you’re not worth mating. You’re high-strung. It’s annoying.”

You bristled with anger, but his warmth was making every other sense dull to you. When his teeth teased the skin at your shoulder, you were wrangled back to focus.

“No marks,” you warned, just as his teeth sank in, and nudged away gently to dissuade him. “Don’t leave any. Kurogiri and Tomura can’t see–”

“I don’t give a fuck who sees,” he replied harshly, coming up to look at you. “Who cares? They were dumb enough to leave you unmated and practically dyin’ for a fuck, so forget them. I’m doing you a favor here, remember that. You can have some rules, but I’m doing whatever the hell I need to do.”

His fingers rubbed hard at your panties; they were wet to the touch. "Not like you’re gonna run out now. You’re fucking soaked.” With a pleased growl he went to your neck again, biting hard.

You squealed, but before he could start sucking at the skin, you reeled back and moved away from him. You pushed at his forehead with a hand, and he smacked it away.

“Then no,” you sighed out shakily once you’d gotten his attention. "We’re done here.”

You spoke it with such confidence that it actually earned you his consideration. He stared at you, half-impressed, but mostly, furious.

“If you can’t listen to me,” you muttered, braving his piercing eyes willingly, "then… then fuck off.”

He was scowling at you now, and without warning his fingers pinched your clit.

You gasped sharply and raggedly at the feeling, melting into his touch with weak legs. He had to hold you upright to prevent you from collapsing, and against your ear, he huffed angrily.

“That’s what I fucking thought, stupid slut.”

He shoved you down onto the mattress at your feet.

You were too dizzy to make a protest when he climbed over you, and had no voice on which to loose it when he ripped—literally ripped—your shirt apart and attacked your chest with harsh bites and licks. Your nipples got the worst of it: he went for them with a growl in his throat, claiming the peaks between his teeth, biting down so hard you squealed and kicked.

“You really don’t have a goddamn clue how this works, do you?” he was breathing out harshly. “What an alpha does to an omega?” He looked up at you. Your eyes were watery and trembling as they gawked down at him. “What I can do to you?”

His lips went down, and he shoved your skirt off of your legs, the panties going too. You had enough sense in you to shut your thighs, which made him scoff, and yank them apart painfully.

“Don’t you fuckin’ try it. This is mine right now. You and your little cunt, mine. Like it’s supposed to be.”

He knew even as the words came from his mouth like venom, that your scent, coupled with his long-unreleased pheromones, were pushing him to a point of brutality. He’d never been so prone to complete and utter dominance like this. And now looking between your thighs at the pink, swollen, shaven pussy twitching for him, he knew there was no chance you’d be getting any mercy.

“Look at this shit,” he muttered, dropping to his knees, and as a protest died on your lips, his own pressed against your wetness, breathing in your scent as he did, growling loud and wildly in his throat.

His hands went to your thighs and pulled, bringing you closer against him, ignoring the fingers in his hair that feebly tugged. A shaky whimper came on every one of your breaths, your mouth sputtering through frail pleas he didn’t understand and didn’t bother trying to.

He indulged one harsh, long, angry suck on your clit, and released with a wet smack. You cried, actually cried when he went back in and dug his tongue harshly against you.

“Dabi, Dabi—no, please–”

Your scent made him light-headed, made him forget for a split second where he was, made him forget the constant and residual pain from his quirk, the itch of his staples—made him forget it all.

You came on his tongue without warning, a loud screech dying in your throat as you arched off the mattress. He was too shocked to lick up the sweet cum that received him. His eyes shot open and he looked up at you; you were an absolute wreck: flushed, sweating, shaking, and seized with pleasure.

He tried to count in his head. How long had it been? A minute? Barely? Fucking ridiculous.

He sucked and sucked until you were writhing. He wanted to punish you, wanted you to see how fucking weak you were, how badly you needed this.

“Dabi—” you sobbed out, tears itching your eyes and rushing down your face.

He pulled off finally with a loud breath, smacking his lips, then went back down to lick up your pussy one more time to clean you with his tongue. You jerked and twisted miserably. Then he was climbing over you again, forcing you to face him.

“You see?” he panted. "See what I just did to you? See how fuckin’ quick you were to cum for me? That’s what you’ve been missing. You’re not in the position to be making demands or rules here, _____. This is what you deserve. This is what you need. You need an alpha, you need me, you need this—”

He took your hand and forced it to rub between his legs. You stuttered a pitiful breath when you felt the bulge there, so hot, so inhumanly hot, waiting for you. Under your touch it twitched, greedy to be inside you.

You shook your head, unable to keep your eyes open; the blinding pleasure made a transit to numbing warmth, and your lids were heavy with drowsiness.

Your lip trembled. “Please, I need a minute, please—"

“No. Fuck no.”

He shred his clothes quickly, pulling his jacket off, kicking his shoes off, clawing at his belt and throwing that off too—but getting no further than shoving his pants down his hips so his eager cock could spring free. He didn’t have the time for anything else. He didn’t have the fucking time.

“I was gonna go easy on you,” he muttered. "Just a little."

Manhandling you to a spread position beneath him, he was almost ready to shove into you—then he had an exhilarating idea, and flipped you over, slapping your ass hard and making you yell in surprise. He wanted to take you like this: dominating, and utterly primal.

He forced your hips up, ass out, pussy spreading for him. He took his cock, flicked the head mercilessly against your clit until you were keening. A firm hand on your hip prevented you from squirming away.

“Please,” you sobbed again, gasping, body trembling. The heat. The heat. It was too much. Your skin crawled with euphoric pinpricks of fire. You needed it. You needed it. “Please, Dabi—”

“Please what?” he snapped, fire in his veins, vanilla flooding his head. “There’s no way in hell you want me to stop, so you’re beggin’ me for more. Use your words then. Say it.”

Your shook your head, mouth dry and gaping. “I can’t—”

He smacked your ass again and you jolted, unable to stop from curling into yourself as you orgasmed; the scent of your slick invaded his nose and he realized what you’d done. A dangerous, slow, ragged laugh bubbled from his throat.

“My god you’re so fucking pathetic. Look at that.” He kneaded his hand hard into your ass, pulling and stretching the skin, keeping your pussy fleshed out for him. “Look at this shit. It’s dripping. I want you to admit how pathetic you are.” He started to jerk himself hard, precum spilling over his fingers in messy streams. “Say it.”

You shook your head, pressing it hard into the mattress below. His hand went for your hair, yanked it backwards, and a tight yell tore out of your throat.

“Say it right now or you’re not getting my dick. I can shove it in your throat and get off just fine.” Oh, but how fucking badly he needed to put it in your cunt... “Say it. Say you’re pathetic, and that you need an alpha cock. Say it.”

“Dabi, please—“ Your hips arched upwards, begging, completely overrun with need. He shoved you back down, dismantling your sanity with every second went without feeling him inside of you.

“Say it now or I swear I’m gonna leave you here, _____.” He yanked your hair tighter, his hand flying on his cock. Everything felt so good. Too good. Too fucking hazy. “I’m gonna use your mouth or these tits to get off, and then I’m gonna leave you here, dripping and fucking pathetic and alone. Alone in your heat like you always are, you stupid whore.”

The thought made you whimper despairingly; in turn, he groaned loudly as he worked precum out in rapid strokes.

“Say it. Now. Now.”

“I’m—” Needy sobs wracked your voice, your hands clutching the mattress. “I’m a—I’m pathetic, I’m pathetic—”

“Fuck,“ he moaned loud and heavy, pinching the base of his cock to hold off release, then going back to stroking again, unable to go without stimulus. “What else? What else, _____?”

“I’m pathetic and I need your cock!” you cried out, too desperate for pride, too desperate for anything else. “I need an alpha cock, I need it—Dabi, damn it, please!—”

You practically screamed when he rammed into you, a loud shout tensing out of him as he let go of your hair. He put both hands at your hips to hold you in place for his violent thrusts.

Your mouth was open in vacant stupor, eyes rolling, feeling another orgasm ripping through you almost instantaneously.

“Fuck… fuck,” he breathed, feeling you tighten around him. He growled angrily, biting his lip until the burnt, abused skin swelled and bled. “You fucking—fuck—” Your slickness was in such abundance that little specks flew with every one of his thrusts, making his cock spear in and out perfectly and without restraint.

Every muscle in his body screamed for release, so soon, so quickly. His balls ached for it, spittle flew from his mouth with every ragged breath he took. Your back arched so nicely underneath him. You were such a perfect fucking omega he almost couldn’t stand it.

He shut his eyes tight, hand going to fist back into your hair and wrench upwards. You didn’t protest, didn’t even let a sound leave your throat despite the pain it brought. It didn’t take away the pleasure; nothing could. Nothing could ever take this away: the stretch of his thick, long cock pounding into you, hitting that spot over and over again until you came once more, then twice, then a third time.

He was breathing so raggedly that it branched pain into his lungs; his fingers dug into your hip so harshly that blood spilled from beneath his nails.

“Fuck,” he breathed, almost like a whisper: an angry, desperate, hissing whisper. “Oh fuck, _____...”

Everything was too much: your scent, the sight of you, your perfect cunt gripping mercilessly with every thrust. He bent forward, stuttering his hips into you as his orgasm approached. Copper met his tongue when he bit harshly into your back.

Beyond his control, his quirk joined the fray of pleasure, blue flame flickering faintly along his palms and burning you. But fuck, it didn’t matter. Nothing fucking mattered but the wet slap of his hips ramming into you, the painful bite of his belt at your thighs, his teeth at your back, sharp alpha canines digging in.

He felt the flames on his face rising; along his jaw, in his hair, they had a mind of their own. He had the sense, just a sliver of it, to back away from you, saving you from the heat that licked parts of his face, even as his hand burned char into your hip.

His rhythm was going; he was close. It hurt. It fucking hurt. He needed to let go. Needed to give you his cum. Needed to pump it in your eager little omega cunt.

“I’m—shit,” he choked, swallowing the dryness in his mouth and moaning long and low. “Tell me you want it baby girl,” he panted. “Tell me you want this cum. Tell me.”

“I—” You coughed miserably, body beyond your muscles’ command. “I want it—”

“What? What do you want? Say it, sweetheart—fuck, tell me—Tell me you want my cum and I’ll fucking give it to you—” You squeezed him tight, too tight, and he keeled over with a grunt. "You feel so damn good. Fuck I’m gonna give it to you, gonna fill this tight pussy come on, come on—”

“I want your cum!” you sobbed, tightening around him as if on instinct. He grabbed your hips with both hands, fucked into you primally now, an angry, seething growl in his throat that was far from human.

Flames on his back, on his arms, on his neck. The skin where his hands held you steamed and you moaned in agony, or maybe pleasure—maybe both. He didn’t care. Neither did you.

“Fuck!” he shouted, just as his hips stuttered and fire shot up his spine. He threw his head back, tendons on his neck flaring, arms and legs shaking as he came inside. “Fucking shit—”

He panted for air, felt staples pulling in places all over him, felt his balls burning with pleasure and heard your mangled cry as he gave you what your body needed, what it had always fucking needed.

He didn’t stop fucking into you until his body couldn’t physically answer his brutal needs, and he bent over you, one last and hard thrust sending you flat against the mattress. His searing body pressed flush against you, met your nipped skin in an overwhelming contrast and forced a whimper from your throat.

He bit into you wherever his mouth could reach, claimed you in any way he could without irrevocably mating you. Lost in the heat of it all, in the pleasure that burned up his spine and gave him vertigo, he wanted nothing else but you: to dominate you, make you submissive, fucking own you until you knew nothing else but him and his cock and his seed inside you—but he couldn’t mate you. Wouldn’t.

Maybe not yet.

His flames subsided on their own, leaving smoke to rise all over his skin like overworked geysers; a steaming form on top of yours. The pungency of the expelled fumes would have surely made you nauseous any other time, but your senses were dulled to discomforts and pains alike.

You panted heavily beneath him, quivering under his weight. He lay his head against your back and breathed.

Wanting to push himself upright he twisted a hand into the cushion next to your head, tried to work himself up, but unable to with the debility of his worn muscles.

“Goddamnit,” he rasped, then, forcing strength into his limp limbs, pushed up on a shaky arm and righted himself dizzily. He had to close his eyes, reclaim his vision from the black spots encompassing it, then blinked the room back into focus.

You made some mousy noise beneath him. Then you squirmed, tightening around his oversensitive dick and making him grunt.

He pulled out of you carefully, slowly, every inch dissuaded by the tight squeeze. Wetness made a sleek mess of it all, slick streaks down to your knees, on his own skin, too; splattered against his pelvis, dripping down his balls and his thighs. He shivered. All of this, all of this mess for him, because of him.

His seed spilled out of you when his cockhead, red and twitching, released itself. His cum was hotter than what should have been normal. As it dripped down your thighs it felt like a simmering stream.

The mess, primal though flattering as it was, was quickly something of an agitation on his sweltering skin, and he wanted to be rid of it. A hand was at your back to steady himself, and he pushed at it again to keep his balance—that was when he noticed the full scope of the burns he’d left on you. The burns, the bruises, the blood. He looked upon the violence he’d done with careful regard. He knew from a simple glance, and from experience, that the burns were so severe they would be beyond full healing. You’d have them there forever. A token of his brutality, of his lust.

He closed his eyes and breathed out a sigh to steady himself.

“Oi.”

He pushed at you, and your limp body moved jointlessly beneath him. He wet his mouth to alleviate some of the dryness. His heart raced and his ears felt stuffed by warmth.

“Oi, you bring a towel? Something to wipe this mess up?” Your cum on his skin was cooling uncomfortably. “Oi.” He shook you a little harder when you kept to your silence, and a quiet whine answered him. “C'mon.”

There was a tiny movement: you attempting to push on your arms. But they were utterly useless to the command of your body. A raspy sound came from your throat, like you were trying to speak in murmurs.

He leaned in. “What?”

You tried again, to little betterment. He tsked, impatience entering his body again despite how languid it felt, and smacked your ass lightly, making you jump.

“I can’t hear you dummy, speak up."

You gave up, and trying to muster what little forte you could, moved a shaking arm and pointed to a bag off to your left. He understood, reached for it, his muscles screaming at him in ache, and set about cleaning himself with a towel he found inside.

He thought better of doing the same for you, but was again drawn to the wounds he’d left on you. Provoking an alpha-like possessiveness in him as they did, they were unsightly, and some far away part of him regretted what he’d done. He cleaned you carefully, in the smallest form of apology he was capable of evoking.

When the rough towel wiped over your sensitive clit you shivered miserably, and he huffed a quiet, weak laugh, his eyes heavy-lidded.

“Such an omega.”

He tugged his pants back up his waist and sunk down into the mattress at your side. He’d mastered his breathing again, though there was a heat in his lungs, like smoke, which made every breath feel powerful and choking. The smoke had all but gone from his skin, however, extinguished by his mind returning to lucidness.

But there was still a trace of the ferocious alpha in him there, his legs and depleted cock twitching when he breathed in and smelled you, a warmer vanilla now: something changed and unpure now that you’d been rutted. And he knew, possessively, with a shot of primal instinct going down his spine and making fire roll through him, that he’d forever changed you.

He looked over at you, realizing for the first time that you’d been completely inanimate. You barely looked to be breathing; your inhales came in irregular, heavy intervals, as if each breath taken succeeded a reminder that you were still alive, awake.

He knew it was the adrenaline still rushing in his veins that made him do it, but he reached out, pushed at your head gently so you would look his way, and brushed the matted hair from your face.

Your skin was flushed with sweat. A damp spot in the mattress must have been tears, and probably drool. It wasn’t particularly nice to look at, but it stirred something in him nevertheless. You were a mess. An utter mess. His mess.

Your eyes were closed, pupils fluttering beneath the lids like shaking leaves.

“Open your eyes,” he said, for no particular reason.

But they shut tight at the command, and your breathing picked up, as if you were debating between obeying or not.

“Open them,” he told you again, no firmer, but apparently, it was persuasive all the same. Tears slipped from your ducts when you complied, eyes shining and trembling.

He ignored the part of him that ached to fall into his greedy impulses again. It was alluring. Not just because you were an omega, but because you were you. And he’d fucked you. He’d taken you. He was your first alpha.

Without further instruction to do otherwise, your eyes started to close again, and the hand that still held your hair from your forehead tugged lightly, entreating your eyes to stay trained on him.

“Nuh uh, wake up. Talk to me a little, before you pass out.”

You hummed groggily in response, your mouth open but too dry to form around words. You sealed your lips together, swallowed the dryness.

“Can’t move,” you managed raspily, staring at him, looking exhaustedly vulnerable and knowing you did, too.

He watched you, debating leniency, and decided he’d give you some, just for good measure.

You made an uncomfortable whine when he took your forearm and dragged you to him. He didn’t try to hold you, or keep you against him. Instead when you curled into your little ball against his side, moaning as you did at having to stretch your body’s abused muscles, he let you. What he didn’t deny of intimacy, however, was the arm he draped over you leisurely, just to feel you as he lay on his back and stared at the ceiling.

His thumb brushed over the flesh of your hip, and felt the corrugated, slowly cooling flesh there. The sensation made him grimace. It was so like the gnarly, repulsive texture of his own skin. Not as severe by a long shot, but nevertheless, unpleasant to the touch.

“Hurt?” he asked.

You blinked lazily, his voice sounding like a waning echo to your numb ears. “What...?”

“Your hips. Look at them.”

You forced your eyes open; they rolled themselves into nausea when you shifted to look. When you noticed the pinkish, creased wound on your burned skin, you froze, then started to shiver in your dismay.

“You… I…” Your unsteady hand moved, a finger traced over the rough, still raw skin. Clearly, the pain was lost on you, lust granted. But the sight had your stomach twisting, its emptiness sloshing uncomfortably at the sight of your own damaged flesh; you could even smell it, strong and sickening like cooking meat.

“You’re lucky that’s all I did,” he muttered, selfishly flippant. “And you’re lucky I did it there.”

You took a shaky breath, and shut your eyes, resigned to your body’s lethargy. “Asshole.”

He humphed. “It’ll heal,” he lied. “I’ve had worse, clearly. Done worse, too. It won't get infected.”

You were quiet afterwards, volitionally so, barely keeping your hostility in check. He was more than aware of your chagrin, and didn’t particularly care. If you started feeling it later, he’d go get you meds for the pain. But he’d known omegas to be particularly resilient in their heats. There was very little that registered above the natural pleasure of being filled by an alpha.

“I’m…”

He glanced down at you, saw your mouth opening and closing in determined hesitation.

“I’m not a whore,” you managed croakily, and irritably.

He started laughing. “You gonna hold that against me?”

“I’m not a whore.” You scowled, resentful of his carefree ribbing. “And I’m not”—you sputtered, breathing hard through a phlegm-choked cough–“a slut.”

His laugh subsided into a low chuckle in his chest. You didn’t see the wry grin on his face, but heard it.

He shrugged. “I say shit when I’m high on fucking. Don’t take it so personally.” But he couldn’t stop now that the warmth of craftiness was twisting in him. “Besides…” The arm draped over you shifted, found your ass, and gave a generous squeeze. You whimpered in objection. “You basically are my whore, now.”

You shivered with frustration. Despite the wild—incredibly wild and earth-shattering sex, you were conceiving a poorer and poorer image of him the more he gloated. With renewed strength, you rose on your arm and pushed his hand off.

“I’m not,” you insisted testily.

“I get you don’t know how this shit works,” he started, “so guess I’ll explain it to you.”

There it was again: the possessive, ravenous wildfire in his veins that coaxed his arm to reclaim its spot at your back, bring you closer to him. Adjusting his position, he let your head rest on his stomach; your legs curled comfortably around his own for comfort. He watched your head rise and fall as he breathed steadily.

“May not have mated you,” he went on, anticipating your griping, "but I’m your alpha now.”

You tensed at the declaration, he noticed, but no more than that.

“And it’s gonna stay that way unless you let some other one take you in a heat, which I don’t see you doing. Unless you’re just so dick hungry after this that you let any guy fuck you.”

One of your feet dug opposedly into his calf and he snickered. “Didn’t think so. To the last part, I mean. Trust me…” His hand smoothed over your ass again, and he smirked when you moaned quietly. “You’re gonna be hungry for it.”

“I can’t handle anymore,” you muttered, breath puffing against his stomach. Even those giddy times you’d imagined your first alpha taking you, envisioned a night of passion that would end in ardent nurturing, wrapped under your dominant’s embrace, protected and warm and wanted—you now balked the indulgent, cherished ideal of it. This was not what you had expected. Dabi was not what you had expected.

“I can’t,” you started, lacking the confident breath to loose your doubts on. “I don’t even… feel it. It’s gone.”

“You’re still in heat. It’ll pop back up when your body’s ready. I’m hoping you don’t need a biology lesson for this shit, but point of a heat is to get you knocked up. You get that, right?”

“Obviously.”

“Obviously,” he mocked. “And obviously since I’m not tryin’ to make you a mother, I didn’t do that. Your body’s gonna keep beggin’ for it until I give it to you, and I won’t. So you’ll get your heat back once your junk down there realizes it’s empty and wants to try again, except it’s gonna be a lot crazier this time, since you’ve finally had a taste. Told you that you were only hurting yourself by holding out this long."

You started to follow the logic. It wasn’t anything you hadn’t heard before. But to hear it fleshed out like this, by the alpha who had taken you, felt somewhat like a hazardous warning.

“I just… “ You shook your head against him. “We did it. You said that would be enough. That it wouldn’t be so bad, now…”

“You thought one fuck would fix it?” he asked, condescension taking an amusing slope in his tone.

You didn’t answer, and he grinned.

“You got a lot to learn, sweetheart. Gotta get you through the whole heat, first. Life would be easy for you omegas if one fuck could take care of your problems.” He hummed. “No, you’re gonna be dyin’ to get bred up until your heat is over. I’m not gonna do that, but I’ll fill you up for a little relief.” Something about his own words made him twitch in anticipation, and he put a hand on your head, pinched a handful of hair gently in his fist. “Until you need it again. And again.”

You heart was beating fast. He felt it against his side. “We don’t have to,” you said.

“Don’t have to what?”

“I’m too tired,” you insisted, feeling your body lag into the mattress. “I won’t want it anymore. I’m done. This will be fine. I don’t need you.”

He laughed with such smugness that your cheeks went hot.

“Now you’re just being dumb… But fine. Think what you want. Give it a couple hours. You’ll be clawing at my dick before morning.” He picked idly at the drying blood under his nails, frowning to see it, but too amused by the prospect of your ignorance to regret his violence anymore. “And now, I’m gonna make you work for it.”

“I won’t. You got what you wanted. And I… you made your point.” You shoved off of his body, pushed away from him scornfully on limbs that were seconds from giving out, and sat yourself upright.

Your spine curled and straightened enticingly as you arched up; he watched with covetous appreciation, then saw the red blood drying on your back. He tried not to put out a spiteful laugh.

Let you find the mess he’d made later, he decided. For now, a more urgent matter was making sure his dick didn’t get too hard before you were ready to go again. But you stretched so nicely like that, reminding him of how your body had dipped so obediently for him when he’d bent you over and fucked you cross-eyed.

“You need to leave,” you said.

Snorting, he went back to picking at his nails. “I’m stayin’ right here. Even if I didn’t still have a job to do, this is a nice bed. Better than the couches at the bar, ya know. Nice little nest you’ve made for yourself."

“Then… I’m leaving.” You tried to stand, and failed, legs sliding out from under you and giving your body back to the mattress beneath.

“No you ain’t,” he snickered. “Even if you could find another place to wait off the heat before it came back again, you’re gonna run back to me.”

“I don’t need you,” you insisted decisively, angrier now.

“Yeah, you do. I’m your alpha now, remember?” He saw your shoulders rise with a heavy, angry breath. “You said it yourself. You’re pathetic, and you need an alpha cock. And right now, that’s mine."

“…Fuck you.”

He cackled patronizingly, like it was the funniest thing he’d ever heard, giving no stock to your anger at all.

Indignation compelled you to your feet, wobbling, a hand going between your thighs to feel the hot throbbing there.

That was when you noticed the blood, and some of the bruises. You shook your head, infuriated with yourself, and with him.

“You’re… sick,” you muttered. “I can’t believe I let you… You’re a sick bastard."

He chuckled dismissively, and stopped himself from reaching out to grab you like he wanted to—that attitude of yours made you really fuckable.

Instead he rested back into the mattress, forcing his hands to keep busy on his nails, on his staples.

“Keep it up sweetheart,” he muttered. "When you’re wet for me again in a few hours, I’m gonna remember you said that."

“Fuck you,” you said again, too disillusioned to think carefully on the foreboding, and found your clothes.

Then, forgetting he’d torn them, you threw the tattered garb at him.

He ignored you, unfazed, flicking the ineffectual shirt off his chest as you rummaged through your bag for a new one.

You pulled it over your head, then, with a final glare of indignant reproval, walked off.

He didn’t bother asking where you were going. He knew you would be back.

#dabi x reader #bnha #dabi shtuff #dabi

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bucksfucks · 4 years ago

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amorosa // steve rogers

chapter five: paris, france

chapter one // chapter two // chapter three

chapter four // chapter five

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

main masterlist

series masterlist

summary || steve takes you to paris to accompany him to a business gala where you meet an old friend and partner, discovering some secrets about your steven.

pairing || sugar daddy!steve x reader

word count || 2,023 words

warnings || financial struggles, sugar daddy dynamics, daddy kink, undefined age gap, minor panic attack, angst — 18+ ONLY//MINORS DNI

When Steve said that the private jet was learning first thing in the morning, he meant it. It was three in the morning, the sun not even close to being up as you rode through the empty and dimly lit New York streets with Steve's hand on your thigh.

He decided to drive, sometimes you thought he was superhuman, running off of only a few hours of sleep, yet wide awake and alert.

You envied him as your head lolled to the side as drowsiness washed over you. You yawned, big and loud as Steve chuckled.

"You can sleep on the plane, Princess. I know early mornings aren't your thing." He teased as you shot him a tired look, but smiled as you placed your hand over his.

When you opened your eyes next the car had stopped in the middle of the runway, a sleek private jet in front of you as your eyes went wide with excitement. You'd never gotten anywhere close to a private jet, the closest thing being bumped up to business class on accident.

"Is this it?" You asked, sitting up as Steve opened his door, "sure is, buttercup." He winks, coming around to open your door and help you up. The air was cold, the smell of frost faint in the air as Steve wraps his arm around you.

"I've never been on a private jet," you mumble, more so to yourself as Steve laughs in response. He takes your hand, leading you up the stairs of the jet until you're entering the lavish cabin.

"Then by all means, Princess, let me be the first to introduce you to them." He purrs from behind you, arms snaking around your waist as you take in the clean leather and polished surfaces.

"Steve this is…" you're at a loss for words, mouth agape as you spin around to plant your lips on his. You're standing on your toes, arms hastily thrown around his neck as Steve lets out a surprised grunt before catching his balance on the nearby wall.

"All for you." Steve finishes your sentence and you just about melt in his arms.

He chuckles when you explore the rest of the jet, taking the time to talk with his pilot, Léon, about the flight plan. Their voices are hushed as you enter the back of the plane, walking into the bathroom to take a moment for yourself.

It's a lot, overwhelmingly so and you start to feel your heart racing when you think of Steve.

You've loved before, but have you been in love? The realization causes your breathing to become shallower as you wonder if these past few months have been a whirlwind romance destined to burn out like the brightest flame?

Or perhaps this bubbling feeling deep in the pit of your stomach has been blossoming, nearly blooming into what so many people refer to as love?

You gasp when you hear soft knocking on the door, "are you all right, buttercup?" It's Steve, and the nickname causes butterflies to flock to your chest as you swallow your feelings.

"Just checking out the bathroom," you giggle and well, it wasn't a lie.

He smiles, taking your hand, "pick a seat, Princess, we take-off soon." Steve says before you're sliding into one of the comfortable, almost too comfortable seats and buckling into it. Steve's hand is in yours, thumb rubbing soothing circles against your knuckles as you feel the same swell in your chest.

Paris, France.

You'd never been, although you don't think you'll ever want to leave.

When you arrive it's late in the evening, the bustling city life is alive and well as the car drives from one end of the city to the other and you still can't believe your eyes as you pass by the lit up Eiffel Tower.

The hotel room is nothing but lavish, with tall windows, balconies, gold and champagne detailing and the largest bed you'd ever seen. The sheets are soft and clean and you want nothing more than to collapse into bed with Steve.

The bathroom has a claw-foot tub, a full shower, and four sinks along with a velvet chaise.

"How about a shower, Princess?" Steve asks, sitting on the bed as you fall back onto it. His voice is coarse and rough, no doubt tired from the many hours of travelling as your tired eyes meet him as you nod.

"Here," Steve stops you when your fingers hook under your shirt, "let me," he offers before slowly undressing you.

The bathroom is quiet, nothing but the sound of running water heard as Steve removes your clothing before shedding his. The moment is soft, gentle and caring as his touches are featherlight.

Once the water hits your tired body, you let out a sigh of relief. It's warm, your muscles relaxing under the stream as Steve steps behind you. The glass door fogs up, encasing you in your own world as Steve's hands knead over your tight shoulders.

"Just relax, Princess. Let Daddy take care of you tonight." He whispers in your ear, it's not sultry, but instead washes an overwhelming wave of relief over you as you let Steve take care of washing your body.

A fluffy towel is wrapped around your body before the cold air even has time to hit your body. By then the water has lulled you into a state where all you want is for your head to hit the bed, engulfed by the covers as Steve's steady heartbeat soothes you to sleep.

You aren't really aware of when you get into bed, all you know is Steve is telling you goodnight, pressing a kiss to your forehead before you're thrust into a state of comatose.

The sound of quiet voices is what wakes you, bright sunlight streaming through the nearly translucent curtains making you squint as you let out a groan. You aren't sure how long you've been asleep, but it's probably far too long.

You roll over, the alarm clock reading 11:37 and yup, you've definitely overslept.

Who cares, you're in fucking Paris.

"There's my girl," Steve beams, walking into the bedroom dressed in a casual, yet professional attire. Simple fitted slacks and a tight button down that's not done up all the way with the sleeves rolled up.

You smile as he presses his lips to yours.

"I've got some business to take care of this morning, okay? I shouldn't be more than a few hours." He explains as you give him a small pout. "I've ordered breakfast to the room, take your time gettin' ready. Tonight's the big gala so your dresses should be here soon, along with hair and makeup."

Your eyes nearly bug out at the sound of his words, hair and makeup? Multiple dresses?

"Don't act so surprised, buttercup. You know Daddy takes care of his girl," he smirks before standing up to his full height.

"Guess I'll just have to find the best pastries alone," you playfully retort, "I love croissants, remember that." Steve winks before he's giving you one last kiss and disappearing out into the Parisian streets.

Paris was breathtaking, beautiful, and everything you could've dreamed of.

Yet you couldn't help feel out of place as you walked through the streets alone, soft music playing through your headphones as you tried to scout out the best café in the city.

You felt stares on you as you tried to keep your head down, people stopping as they looked at you. Maybe you were in your own head, but you could've sworn you saw people take out their phones to… take pictures of you?

No, you had to be in your own head.

The hotel was in your sights as you bolted in its direction, a text message from Steve prompting you that everything would be arriving at the hotel soon and that he was on his way back to get ready.

Your heart hammered, thumping as you realized that you would be on Steve's arm as he introduces you as… his girlfriend.

"You okay, Princess? You've been quiet this entire ride." Steve asks, fingers lacing with yours as you look down at the gold satin dress you've chosen for the night. It compliments all your best aspects, the colour great on you as you nod your head.

"Just nervous." You mumble, it was the truth as you felt your stomach churning as you approached the banquet hall. It was gorgeous, lavish from the outside and you couldn't imagine how much nicer it would be on the inside.

"You've got nothin' to worry about. I won't leave your side, promise." Steve says softly, holding out his pinky for you to hook yours against it. You giggle, doing it as your worries vanish for a split second.

When you walk into the hall it's littered with people wearing their most expensive gowns, suits, and jewellery as Steve grabs to flutes of champagne.

"For the nerves," he jokes and you take it, the bubbly alcohol running down your throat distracting you for a second before Steve's hand is on your lower back, leading you through the people.

"Hey Punk!" The voice that shouts it is low and deep, hearty and boisterous as Steve whips around with the biggest grin on his face.

"You Jerk," Steve replies playfully, the two embracing in a hug as you take a good look at the other man.

He's slightly shorter than Steve, dark brown hair in a loose messy bun paired in an all-black suit. If that didn't make him look intimidating enough, he's got a black and gold prosthetic to match his aesthetic.

"So this the dame that's captured your heart?" The man smirks, casting his eyes on you as you can't help but feel your body flush.

"Sure is, this is James." He introduced you, your name squeaking past your lips as you shake his hand. James rolls his eyes at Steve, pressing a kiss to your hand as you admire the cool shade of blue his eyes are.

"Call me Bucky, Doll." He comments as Steve claps his hand over his shoulder, shaking his body as you're thrown into conversation with the two men.

It's a strange sight, seeing Steve being thrown around by whom you learned to be his childhood best friend turned business partner some years ago. Though you must admit that you like Bucky, he seems like a good influence on Steve.

"Here, I'll go grab up some more drinks," Steve offers, standing up to press a kiss to your cheek before striding off to the bar leaving you and Bucky alone.

"You know I gotta admit Doll, I'm real surprised that Steve's found someone." Bucky muses, fixing his collar before turning to you. Your expression is full of confusion as you silently press him to explain himself.

"After Peggy, I really didn't think the kid had it in him to love again, but here we are." He smiles, it's not malicious or venomous, it's a genuine smile but your heart has dropped into your stomach and all you can hear is the ringing in your ears.

"Peggy?" Is all you can manage to ask as your heart begins to hammer in your chest.

"Steve's ex-wife, he didn't tell you about her?" Bucky asks and suddenly he's got a remorseful, regretful look on his face as you shake your head, "no."

"Paris has the best champagne," Steve breaks the conversation as you look up to meet his eyes, trying to hide your hurt as you take the delicate flute between your fingers.

"I'm gonna go to the bathroom," you say with a tight-lipped smile. You don't wait a response, quickly seeking out the nearest bathroom before you're holding yourself over the sink, trying to calm your breathing.

Bucky's words continue to replay in your mind, an ex-wife, an ex-wife that he chose to keep secret? You felt tears brimming your eyes and you wanted to scold yourself for thinking a man of his power had no dirty secrets.

How ironic to have your heart broken in the city of love.

any and all feedback is always appreciated! <3

#steve rogers x reader smut #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers smut #steve rogers au #sugar daddy!steve #steve rogers oneshots #steve rogers one shots #steve rogers headcanons #steve rogers headcanon #steve rogers blurbs #steve rogers blurb #steve rogers series

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tsukishumai · 4 years ago

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First Kiss - Tsukishima, Kageyama, Hinata, Yamaguchi (Karasuno First Year edition!)

Aoba Johsai Edition

It’s a little long, I have zero self control

Can you tell I love Tsukishima (｡◕‿◕｡)

TSUKISHIMA -

Before, you used to spend your days in school with your cousin, Yamaguchi, and his less-than-pleasant-but-ridiculously-good-looking best friend, Tsukishima.

He was a jerk, to put it lightly, but hey, you can be a jerk too.

“Your hair looks like a damn bird’s nest, and your bow’s all crooked. Did anyone even teach you how to be a girl?” “Did anyone teach you not to be such an insufferable asshole?” “Do you even know what ‘insufferable’ means?” “Uh, yeah, it means Tsukishima Kei.”

Yamaguchi regrets ever introducing you two.

Things may have started like that, but it wasn’t long before the biting tone in Tsukishima’s words was replaced by something more playful, each remark followed by a smile. He started walking you to your classes, saving you a seat next to him during lunch, even going so far as to share music with you. (He’ll never show you the playlist he’s made of all the songs you’ve recommended.)

But that was before. Now, you were doing your best not to melt under Tsukishima’s heated gaze, paying no attention to the golden brown eyes that have followed you around for days.

The bell rang to signal the end of class, and you quickly gathered all your things, throwing them haphazardly into your bag, and running out before Tsukishima could get to your desk.

You got to your locker in record time, quickly changing out of your school shoes so you could start your trek home. Usually, you would wait for Yamaguchi and Tsukki to get out of practice but… this was better for you.

“You’re avoiding me.”

You jumped at the voice that was suddenly right behind you, knowing exactly who would be there if you turned around, so you didn’t.

“Don’t you have volleyball practice?” “That’s beside the point.” “Avoiding you? I haven’t been –“ “I’m not a dumbass, so don’t play games with me. You’re avoiding me. Why?”

You gulped, gripping the school bag that hung off your shoulder until your knuckles turned white. You wanted to lie, but there’s no point. Tsukishima was always able to see right through you.

“I heard you tell Tadashi that you liked someone…” “… So?”

You tried to pretend that your heart didn’t just crumple up like a piece of paper. “SO! I didn’t want to ruin your chances; she might get the wrong idea if she sees us together all the time.”

He scoffed. “That is the single most idiotic thing I’ve seriously ever heard. Did you hit your head as a kid?”

You could feel your face turn red, anger beginning to bubble in your throat. You finally turn around to face Tsukishima, ready to give him a snarky comment. “No, YOU’RE the single most idiotic thing –“

The words died on your tongue, muffled by Tsukishima leaning down and pressing his own lips onto yours.

He pulled back, and couldn’t help but smirk at your flushed appearance.

“I was talking about you. Stupid.”

KAGEYAMA –

You had always found it extremely fun to mess with Kageyama Tobio

The boy was a genius when it came to volleyball; but maybe that’s where his genius ends.

It didn’t escape your attention that he would get flustered every time you smiled at him, or that his friends would tease him whenever you walked by, or that it was him dropping off a juice box and melon bread on your desk every morning with a note that says “have a good day.”

You enjoyed it; the way you could make him short circuit just by giving him a hug, the crimson on his face when he catches your eye from the court, and the deer-in-headlights look he gave you when you confessed your feelings.

You were never one to make the first move, sometimes wondering why you did it for Karasuno’s genius setter, but you’re reminded when you feel the shiver in his body as you slide your hand into his, and you see the sweet look in his eyes when you ask him to walk you to class.

You didn’t mind that you had to initiate most of the affection if it meant you got to see the blush that Kageyama always tried to hide.

Today, you found yourself in the perfect position to mess with him. The two of you were having a movie night, and even though you shared the same blanket, Kageyama was sitting on the other end of the couch like a perfect gentleman.

“Tobio,” you whined, “I want to cuddle.”

You didn’t even give the poor guy a chance to reply before crawling from your side of the couch, and situating yourself on his lap, arms reaching up around him as you buried your face into his neck.

You could feel Kageyama’s entire body stiffen, steam practically beginning to come out of his ears.

Laughter threatened to spill from your lips, so you decided you’ve done enough to the guy, and started to make your way off until you felt two strong arms snake around your waist.

You lifted your head to face Kageyama in surprise, but your breath was caught in your throat when you noticed the look he was giving you.

It was like slow motion – Kageyama’s head lowered and your eyes fluttered close before you felt the velvety soft pressure of his lips against yours.

Omg d-did he just kiss you?!

Now it was your turn to be flustered. The corner of Kageyama’s mouth turned upwards ever so slightly, and his hold around you tightened, causing the pink tint of your cheeks to deepen into crimson.

“Let’s stay like this for a while.”

HINATA –

Everything. Was. Going. Wrong.

This was not how Hinata imagined your first date together would go!

Do you have any idea how long Hinata has been waiting to ask you out? Ever since he met you at National’s last year, he’s been planning this day.

You were beautiful, funny, and you could teach him (more than) a thing or two about volleyball? *Chef’s Kiss*

When you finally agreed to go on a date with him, he thought he was dreaming. He knew he had to make it the best date ever.

He definitely didn’t go to the bathroom six times the morning of.

There was a summer festival that weekend, and he figured it would be the perfect place to take you on your first date.

Ten minutes in, Hinata had spilled Kakigori all over his Yukata. He had been in the middle of beating himself up about it when you reached over and dabbed at the stain with a napkin, laughing at his clumsiness.

An hour in, Hinata had spent nearly all his money trying to win you a stuffed animal to no avail. (You got it yourself in one try.)

Two hours in, Hinata had accidentally stepped on your obi, ripping the delicate material. He wanted to die right then and there, but you insisted it was old, and you were planning to get a new one anyway.

Just as Hinata thought he would redeem himself by taking you on the Ferris wheel, he found out that he got motion sickness, and you ended up having to rub his back, while he fought the urge to hurl the whole time.

“I’m so sorry,” he apologized once the two of you exited the metal death trap, sitting him on a bench, “I swear I had planned for this day to be much better.”

“What do you mean? I had a great time,” you said, and Hinata gave you a look that clearly said he didn’t believe you. You just laughed. “Hinata, when we first met, you threw up on my shoes. Today was a big improvement.”

He laughed. “Still – I wanted you to have a cooler memory of me.”

“You don’t have to try so hard,” you giggled, “I came here because I like you.”

Just then, the sky lit up with different colors of reds, greens, and blues; dancing together to create a pattern that illuminated your face in a way that made Hinata’s heart race.

You smiled then, sitting beside him on the bench and laying your head on his shoulder. “At least we have these fireworks.”

It was there, on a random bench under the glow of summer time, that you shared your first sweet kiss with Hinata Shoyo.

YAMAGUCHI -

Enter Yamaguchi Tadashi; Captain of Karasuno Volleyball Club, Pinch Server, and all-around good guy.

He’d like to think he was a completely different person now; no longer the shy, timid first year that was stuck on the bench while his classmates shone on the court.

Now, he was in charge, and one needed to have all the confidence in the world if they had to keep his demon classmates in line.

But all that confidence just went down the drain whenever you were around.

“Good morning, Yamaguchi-kun!” “Oh, hey! Hi, yeah, it’s a good morning right? Aha, the homework last night was pretty hard, right? Haha..ha.”

“I watched your game last night, Yamaguchi-kun! You were amazing, I couldn’t take my eyes off you!” “Wha - Ah - Haha, that was nothing, just - it was, uhm, the team they helped ahaha, I – Thank you?”

“Dude…” Tsukki would say, “What the hell just happened to you?”

Naturally, his friends got sick and tired of seeing him turn into a dumbass around you, so they decided to take matters into their own hands.

Yamaguchi should have known what the boys were up to when they decided they wanted to throw a party after the game. As captain, he probably should have spoken against it, but he was also feeling pretty high from the win, and wanted to let loose.

How they managed to trap him in this closet with you was beyond him. He thinks he heard the words “7 minutes in heaven” but the beers were making everything move too fast, and your proximity was more intoxicating than anything he drank that night.

You looked at him with glossy eyes, and he felt like he was drowning. More than a few minutes passed, neither of you moving. The tension was rising, and Yamaguchi didn’t want to make you feel like you had to do anything you didn’t want to.

“Y/N-san, you don’t have to –“ “Yamaguchi-kun, I like you.”

He froze, mouth hanging open. He watched as your gaze lowered, fiddling with your thumbs as you took a step back, and he instantly missed the closeness.

“I’m sorry, this was stupid. Tsukishima-san told me this would be a good idea, but I can see that I’m making you uncomfortable, I’m just going to –“

You felt Yamagachi’s warm hands on either side of your face, catching you off guard before he pulled you in and locked his lips onto yours. Your hands instantly moved up to wrap around his middle, and you lost yourself in the softness of his movements.

He pulled away, making a mental note to thank his idiot friends when you beamed up at him with a smile that blew him away. “I… I like you, too.”

A/N - This one is for @valiantrevolt !

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farfromharry · 4 years ago

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Can you write a prince!tom imagine about reader being a maid in the palace and prince tom, who had snuck out, tries to climb up to his room, but accidentally ends up in reader's room while she is alseep as his window is locked, so he spends the night in her room on the floor and she wakes up and sees him shirtless on the floor, and as he is seen walking out of her room early in morning and everyone thinks she slept with him, and he invites her to his ball that his parents hosted and he gets her an extravagant dress made and as they dance she asks him why is doing this and he teasingly asks her " is it every girl's dream to be dancing with the prince while wearing an expensive dress?"

summary: the day the prince falls into a room is a the day the young maid thinks she’ll be unable to forget

prince!tom x reader

w/c 1.8k

blurb week!

a/n - i got a little bit carried away :)

tom had snuck out of the castle plenty of times, that was one of the downsides to being the prince, he could never go out and go where he wanted, so he had to do it secretly.

he wasn’t sure what he’d done wrong this time. there were guards outside of his main window, the one he had climbed out of only a few hours earlier, so he had to find another way into the castle without being detected.

the only other open and accessible window he could find was a little way down, and with a bit of poor judgement, he assumed that it was also attached to his room.

he cursed himself as soon as he hit the cold stone floor of the room, noticing that this was most definitely not his chambers.

he rose from the ground, rubbing the sore spot on his arm where he’d landed on the floor. that’s when he noticed you in the small bed.

he didn’t recognise you at all, but from the size of the room and the lack of decoration and warmth, led him to believe you must’ve been one of the maids.

he knew he should leave, and stop staring, but right now he was captivated by you. he thought you were absolutely gorgeous and he made a mental note to look for you in the castle more often.

in his defense, he did try and leave the room, but he noticed the swarm of guards outside and had to decide against it. he promised himself that he’d be up and out of your room before you even knew he’d ever been there.

so, he made himself comfortable on the floor, using his jacket as a pillow and stealing a folded blanket he found on a random chair to keep him warm.

tom was incredibly uncomfortable all night. anyone would be while laying on a stone floor in a random room, when he could be in his large comfy bed.

a shrill scream woke him up from his restless sleep, the male shooting up from his spot and noticing you, the girl who’s room he had snuck into. he was quick to place his hand over your mouth, silencing you from making any other noise that could alert someone in the castle.

“i need you to stay quiet,” he said, hesitantly removing his hand from your mouth. your eyes were still wide as you stared at him, your hands shaking at the idea of the prince being in your room.

“why are you- what are you-“ you couldn’t get your words out quick enough, tom taking pity on the scare he’d given you.

“i climbed into the wrong window last night, and i couldn’t get out,” he explained. you nodded, slowing your breaths until your heart was back beating at a regular pace.

only in the silence did you realise he was shirtless, his toned abdomen on full display for you to gawk at.

“i- um,” he laughed at your stuttering, noticing your eyes locked on his body.

“what’s your name, i haven’t seen you around here before.”

you gulped, finally letting your eyes drift back to his, seeing an amused twinge.

“i’m y/n.”

you explained to tom that your role in the castle was simply a maid, but you spent most of your time down in the kitchen with the older ladies. when he asked why he didn’t get an answer he wanted, but rather an upsetting one.

“they’re older, so they want to protect me from the guards’ punishments.”

tom’s heart sank, a frown etching its way onto his face. he was never aware of the way the guards would treat the staff, hoping that his own personal ones would never, unless they wanted a scolding.

“i’m so sorry, i didn’t know they did that.” you shrugged, playing with a loose thread on your nightgown. you were grateful that the night before you’d chosen a more modest one, just so you didn’t have another reason to be nervous in front of the handsome prince.

“you should go,” you said, not missing the slight look of offense that crossed his face. “we were told the king and your family had a trip today, at 10?”

tom’s eyes widened, a quiet curse mumbled under his breath.

“i’m sorry again, for falling into your room,” he reiterated, gathering his discarded clothes into a pile in his arms.

“it’s okay,” you giggled, opening the door for him because of his full hands.

“i’ll see you soon, y/n,” he pressed a parting kiss to your cheek, noting the slight tint of red that arose.

the princes attempts at being sneaky had failed once again, after being spotted sneaking out of your room, clothes in hand, by one of his beat soldiers.

the blonde man snickered, raising his eyebrows at the young prince, who simply punched him in the arm and made his journey back to his room.

tom did as he said he would, he searched for you in the castle more and more often. the two of you were now having more frequent conversations, in the breaks between you both working.

due to your conversation a few days ago, tom knew exactly where to look for you when he wanted to ask something.

there were murmurs and squeals from the maids just slightly older than you when tom entered the kitchen, strutting right over to your side.

“hi,” he greeted, stopping in place next to you. you and a few of the cooks furrowed their eyebrows, the royals almost never stepped foot in the kitchen.

“your highness,” you responded, politely tilting your skirt in acknowledgment, “what are you doing in here?”

he took your hand from where it rested on the table, running his thumb over your knuckles and flashing you a smile.

“come to my parents' ball with me,” he said. your eyes widened at how it sounded like a demand. he realised how it sounded and shook his head. “you don’t have to, i-“

he laughed at himself, finding it hard to believe he was getting nervous while talking to a girl.

“please will you come to the ball with me, as my date?” you heard a few synchronized gasps from the older women in the room. heart beginning to race in your chest.

you grasped his hand, and much to the women’s dismay, you dragged him out of the room and into a quieter area, where you could be sure no one was listening in.

“are you serious?” you asked, trying to find out if he was joking.

he pouted, squeezing your hand gently. “i’m completely serious, i want you to come with me.”

a smile broke out onto your face, making the prince’s heart beat slightly faster.

“okay, i’d be honoured.”

the next few days were filled with unexpected chaos. feeling as though he had to get you the most extravagant dress he could pay for, tom had you getting measured by the queen’s seamstress.

the dress was made in no time, tom standing right by your side as you were given the chance to admire it on your body for the first time.

“what do you think?” you asked, motioning to the dress with your arms. tom was in awe. you took his silence as a negative, laughing painfully and trying to ignore the way the dress made you feel.

“you don’t like it, i-it’s okay, neither do i-“ you rambled.

“you look incredible, you’re so beautiful y/n,” he gushed. your eyes widened and your body grew hot. nerves flooded your body and you suddenly became a rambling, but shy mess. tom of course found it adorable.

“this is the one, mary,” he confirmed, noticing your small smile when you looked at the flowy material in the mirror. tom shuffled over to you, placing his hands on your waist and his chin on your shoulder, looking at you through the mirror.

“you’re going to be the prettiest lady at the ball.” he pressed a soft kiss to your shoulder, your heart fluttering as you made eye contact.

“thank you, your highness.” he shook his head, rolling his eyes.

“you don’t have to call me that, how many times do i need to tell you?” he teased, poking your stomach to tickle you.

“force of habit,” you defended. you didn’t even notice the adoring looks that mary was sending your way, watching how the prince interacted with you. she’d never seen him this happy since he was a small boy, and she was glad he’d found his happiness again.

the ball felt like it was months away, but it came all too soon, and now here you were, decked out in a gorgeous, expensive, gown, looking like the rest of the royalty in the room.

“care to dance, m’lady?” you giggled at tom’s formalities, but nevertheless nodded, taking his outstretched hand and letting him guide you into the correct position for the dance.

you and tom had grown much closer since the time he fell into your room accidentally, finding more and more time to spend with each other. however, as of late you’d been getting more and more insecure. wondering why someone with tom’s status would want to spend time with someone of yours.

“your hig-“ tom gave her a look, warning her about finishing his title, something he’d been doing for weeks with you. “sorry, tom, why are you doing this?” his brow furrowed, cocking his head in confusion.

“isn’t it every girl's dream to be dancing with the prince while wearing an expensive dress?” he teased. except you didn’t pick up on the teasing tone, instead believing that he was just being cocky. he noticed your face fall and he was quick to apologise. “i was kidding, i’m really not that full of myself.”

guilt instantly took over and you frowned, looking into his eyes to try and decipher any emotion you could, scared you’d hurt his feelings.

“i’m sorry, i shouldn’t have-“ he smiled, pulling you impossibly closer to him while you danced.

“it’s okay,” he promised. “i really like you, that’s why i’ve been around so much.”

you sighed, a small smile creeping onto your face. leaning forward, you rested your forehead against his, the close proximity making you both grin.

“what about your parents?” you asked. you had a rough idea on the king and queens opinion on the ‘servants.’ the queen being more lenient than the king.

“i don’t care what they think, if my mother knows i’m happy with you, she won’t interfere.”

he lifted his hand from yours, coming to stroke your cheekbone with his thumb. “ignore my title, and let’s just try this.”

he didn’t let your silence scare him, but he let you have a chance to think it through.

“okay, my prince.” he rolled his eyes, ignoring the prying eyes of the towns people, kissing you softly.

“just think, all of this because i fell into your room.”

you giggled, pecking his lips again. “feel free to do it again, anytime.”

tom holland taglist - @seutarose @lmaotshollandd @photoshopart15 @hopelessly-harry @drie-the-derp @bvttercupbby @call-me-baby-gir1 @fallinfortom @iwearheadphones @kerrswriting @geminiparkers @blossomparkers @siriuslyslyslytherin @musicalkeys @itstaskeen @icyhollands @tpwk-grande @zspideyy @chrisosterfield @starkweasley @givebuckyhisplumsnow @lowkey-holland @hollandcrush @wizkiddx @sannie-san-shine @sonnydoesrandomshit @hopeless-romantic-baby @dummiesshort

#tom holland #tom holland fluff #tom holland imagine #tom holland imagines #tom holland oneshot #prince!tom

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tatooedlaura-blog · 4 years ago

Text

End of the Road

post-Redux/Redux 2

... their moments ... from now on ... Our Moments: Chapter 1: Five Words (post-Leonard Betts) Chapter 2: Sidebar Nonsense (post-Memento Mori) Chapter 3: Interim (floating somewhere around Unrequited) Chapter 4: Max 2.0 (post-Tempus Fugit/Max) Chapter 5: Shadowed Grey Eyes Chapter 6: The Warmest Thing I Own Chapter 7: Fancy Paper Napkins Chapter 8: End of the Road (post-Redux/Redux 2)

@today-in-fic

&&&&&&&&&&

He put her through hell the next two weeks and finally, seeing her on the other side of the hospital window, he splintered, leaning forward, unable to breath, overwhelming sorrow manifesting in yelled demands of people who couldn’t answer his pleas.

He thought he was quiet at her bedside that night, the world bearing down on both of them, but as he sobbed into her sheets, he felt her hand drift though his hair, nails lightly scratching scalp, “it might be a little tight, but I think we’ll both fit if we try.”

Mess that he was, he stood, dragged his hands over his face to clear away at least some of the nonsense before disappearing to blow his nose on some toilet paper from the bathroom. Coming back in, he shuffled towards her, whispering, “I snuck in. What if I fall asleep and can’t sneak back out?”

“I’m dying, Mulder. I can do what I want and right now, I want you in here with me.”

Deep breath of acceptance at her now-undeniable retort, he did as ordered, wedging himself behind her, back to front, arm hesitant over her belly, full length curl around her. He could feel her ribs against his forearm, her bony hip under his elbow, sharp shoulder blades pressing his chest, “we need to get you a milkshake.”

“If I could keep one down, I’d send you right now but puking up ice cream will just ruin it.”

“I see your point.” Sniffing latent snot back up his nose, he apologized, then, “I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

Soaking up his warmth like a sponge, “I’m not sleeping that well these days anyway, and …” running off into oblivion, she finished the sentence a moment later, “well, I’d rather spend all the time I can with you, even if it’s at whatever the hell time it is and in a hospital bed.”

“A good cuddle does have its merits.”

That got a smile from her, “thank you.”

“For what?”

This time she found the words she couldn’t after he made her dinner, “for doing all those things that a partner would do; that a husband, a best friend, that family would do.”

Well, that made his heart break for the hundredth time that day, and mouth to neck yet again, his words rustled her hair and vibrated her soul, “well, you are my partner and my best friend, which makes us family and I think I fit the category of work husband so I’ve got all the bases covered.”

Reaching for his hand, she pulled it up to her face, kissing his knuckles before tucking it under her cheek, “we need to talk about a few things.”

“No, we really don’t.”

“Yes, we do. Let me take the fall, please? I need to know you’re okay once I’m gone.”

Stop it! Stop it! Stop it!

“We can have that argument tomorrow. Right now, just let me enjoy this, all right?”

She heard his mental screams of ‘Stop It!’ and she did, nodding against his hand, “all right but tomorrow, you’re listening to me.”

Wanting to cocoon her, tuck her inside himself, hide her away so the cancer and the fear and the reality of it all couldn’t find her, he hugged her closer, spooned behind her tight, “maybe.” That’s as good as she would get tonight and accepting it, she did her best to forget everything but the moment. A pleasant ‘hmm’ purred out a minute later and, hearing it as well as feeling it against his chest, “what was that for?”

Not realizing she’d made the sound until it was too late, “living in my moment, Mulder.”

“Our moment.”

For half a second, she wanted to cry, “You’re right. Our moment.”

&&&&&&&&&

He was gone when she woke up, the nurse checking on her telling her quietly, “he snuck out about 20 minutes ago.” Seeing her still sleepy look of disappointment, she smiled, “I’ve seen the way he looks at you; he’ll be back.”

Alone a moment later, she tried to work herself into a rage because he left without saying good-bye and without talking to her like she’d asked but, in the end, it was Mulder and she really should have expected it. Returning to her side, facing the door, she shut her eyes, imagining he was still behind her.

&&&&&&&&&&

He appeared the next day, glass vial offering a last-ditch effort in his fight to save her. He watched her argue with her family, fight her doctors, grasp onto a fading hope without which, she would be forced to make him sit, discuss funeral arrangements, ask him to give up while holding her hand.

&&&&&&&&&&

First Skinner left her room, then her brother, then, finally, Maggie, who gave him a hug and told him, without words but the slightest of head nods, that Scully was inside waiting for him. He gave it another minute, still processing, still gripping the bloody picture, still marveling at the news that was, indeed, real.

Opening her door slowly, the first thing he saw was not a smile but her piercing gaze that ranged in interpretation, over the years, from raging irritation to unbridled happiness. Todays was more of a confused relief bordering on reserved elation, “Mom says you’ve been sitting in the hallway.”

“Your mother deserved the first hug.”

“Are you going to be my third?”

“Patience, woman. I give you a hug now, we’ll both be crying for the next hour.” Shooting her his first mischievous grin in months, “I am breaking all kinds of rules still being here. Three people have asked me to leave already.”

She’d been prepared to talk for a few minutes, then go to sleep but suddenly, that wasn’t cutting it anymore, “You want to go for a drive?”

Finally approaching her, he pressed his thighs against the edge of the bed, leaning just enough forward but keeping his hands in his pockets, schoolboy asking a question of his favorite girl, “your place or mine?”

She hadn’t even thought that far ahead in the discussion but now that it was out there, hanging in the air, she gave him a smile, “your place. We haven’t been there in awhile.”

“Luckily I just changed the sheets a few days ago.”

Holding eye contact, swearing for one second she could actually see into his soul, she found herself moving her legs, bumping into Mulder as she sat upright, slid off the bed, “go find me my clothes.”

They didn’t so much sneak from the hospital as walk out, quietly, Scully’s bag in Mulder’s one hand, Mulder’s other on her back, pressed to muscle and bone, fingers loose-gripping the back of her shirt. No one said a word, elevator their immediate destination, anywhere else in the world their quest. The air was balmy, the breeze light, and Scully stopped the moment the automatic doors shut behind her, inhaling deep.

Mulder, nearly knocking her over, suddenly panicked, “what? What’s wrong?”

Her head spun, giddy and light, “just … overwhelmed for a minute.”

“Do you need to go back inside?”

Shaking her head vehemently, “no … no, I just … your place, please.”

“Food first?”

“No. I … that’s too much right now.” Looking up at her partner, suddenly exhausted, “a bed would be nice and some drugs when we get to your place.”

“Home it is, then.” He valeted the car, tucked her inside, and drove away, aiming towards his apartment. She was dozing by the second turn and fully asleep by the time he pulled up to the curb. Crouching beside her open passenger door, hand on thigh, voice low, he began coaxing her in a soft voice reserved for just such occasions, “hey, Scully? Wake up. We’re here and you’ve gotta stay awake long enough to deal with the front steps and the elevator.”

Blinking her eyes open, they rolled around for a moment before focusing, “okay. Don’t let me fall down.”

“Never.”

He wanted to laugh at her swaying walk, likening it to her drunken trek a year ago at her mother’s surprise birthday party. Not saying that aloud, however, he steered her to his door then inside.

He set her bag down, then took her coat, hanging it before heading toward the kitchen for a glass of water so she could take her meds and lay down. Asking over his shoulder what type of pain killer she wanted, he glanced back when she didn’t answer. Finding her still rooted to her spot beside the hat rack, he stopped, took in the tears already rolling, then held out his hand, waving her towards him, “come here.” She did, shuffling, leaving shoes behind and walking into him, the collision backing him up a few steps. Accepting the momentum, he continued moving, sitting down on the arm of the couch, level with her now, arms tight around her neck, her face hidden in his shirt, “what’s wrong?”

“It can’t be real, Mulder. It can’t. It shouldn’t have worked.”

“But it did. You saw the scans.”

“But what if I go to sleep tonight and wake up tomorrow and it’s back?”

Shifting her away, he settled hands on cheeks, thumbs against eyebrows, painting over them lightly, absently, as he tilted her head to meet her tear-y gaze, “it won’t be but if it is, but it won’t be, we will figure it out … together … all right? We got here once and we can do it again … but we won’t have to, so don’t worry about it.”

Her hands were around his wrists, “I think you just gave me a headache.”

“I’ve been giving you headaches for four years now. What’s new?”

“This.” Leaning in, she kissed him, barely brushing his lips but setting his world on fire in the process, “I’ve got, to sound trite, a new lease on life and I’m not wasting it.” Kissing him again, before swaying dangerously to one side, “but I am going to ask that we sleep through a little bit of it because if I don’t lay down soon, I’m going to end up on your floor.”

He wiped the few remaining tears from her cheeks before he kissed her back, light but claiming, “do you mind some company?”

“I have never minded your company.” Yawning, she turned white, an immediate sweat beading on her upper lip, “but I need to lay down … now.”

Walking her to the bed, he gave her a shirt and some shorts, some drugs and a glass of water, then, “I’ll be back in a minute.”

Returning with a second blanket, he found her curled, body imprint stamped on ‘her’ side of the bed forevermore. His giddiness in the moment nearly made him laugh but containing it, he settled beside her, spare blanket at their feet. His hand went to her forehead, thumb in gentle circles between her eyebrows.

It was gone.

He had her back.

And he wasn’t going to waste a minute of the time they had left.

Which was a lot longer than they’d had mere hours earlier.

He didn’t fall asleep for hours.

Watching her breathe.

&&&&&&&&&&

Neither should have been awake but when Mulder opened his eyes, he found himself staring at an empty pillow and equally empty bed. Squinting towards the dawn-grey living room and the darkened bathroom, he looked over his shoulder, finding his target standing by the open window, leaning on the frame.

Rolling over, he tucked the pillow under his head, yawning, then watching her for a minute before she felt his eyes on her and turned towards him, quiet.

His mind was open and slow, filters off, walls down, and in that very moment, the only thing he had left in the world to say was “I love you.”

Her slow spreading smile lit up the darkening room, thunder rumbling as a storm moved in. It stopped just shy of a full-on grin, then dropped back to slightly upturn lip curl, sigh deep, eyes closing for a moment to collect the proper words from the universe, before sending them drifting across to him slow and steady, “and I … finally have the time … to love you back.”

Mulder’s smile spread at the same speed hers did, pushing into the pillow, squashing face glowing, “is this another one of our moments?”

“They are all our moments from now on, Mulder. All of them.”

#msr #my writing #Our Moments series #post-Redux #cancer arc #xfiles #xf fanfic #xfiles fanfic #and i finally have time #for all our moments

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spencessmile · 4 years ago

Text

This Isn’t Who You Are

Pairing - Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Summary - Spencer gets involved when some not so friendly touches are made from a stranger.

Warnings - Swearing & Angst

Word Count - 1,698 words

And all imagines/fanfics/blurbs are written solely by me so please don’t steal my work and post it without my consent.

Feedback and Comments are welcome. Happy reading!

Requests are CLOSED!

“She bolted for the door and I never saw her again,” The whole team laughs at your story.

“This is my favorite story you’ve told so far,” JJ said. “How do you find yourself in these situations?”

“Honestly I have no idea.”

“Alright, I need more tequila! Anyone else?” Emily said, getting up.

“Yeah, sure,” You smile. “You want anything, Spence?”

“Sure,” He replies as Emily walks off.

“Hey,” You reach for Spencer’s cheek. “Try to let loose tonight, alright?”

“Yeah,”

Emily comes back in no time with shot glasses, Garcia hands them out as everyone downs them in seconds.

“Let’s get the party started!” Garcia cheered, squeezing lime into her mouth.

After another hour, six rounds of playing darts you noticed Spencer starting to get clingy. You pulled him away and sat him down.

“Spencer, you okay?” You ask, as his eyes were looking around the bar.

“Yeah, yeah, totally fine,” He mumbles. He tried to reach for a glass on the table but you immediately stopped him.

“Maybe we should get you some water, how does that sound?” You ask, but Spencer shook his head.

“I don’t want water, I want more Vodka! I totally understand why Emily likes to get drunk! This stuff is amazing!” He yells over the loud music playing.

You laugh at his response. “Babe, you’ve had enough to drink. Maybe drink some water then we can ge-”

“Can I drink more vodka after?” Spencer’s eyes were wide.

“Sure,” You lied.

You wanted Spencer to let loose and have fun tonight but in all the years you’ve been with Spencer you’ve never seen Spencer drink so much. It sort of worried you.

“Sit tight for a minute and I’ll be right back,” Spencer pulled at your arm.

“Don’t leave me all alone,” He pouted.

“The team is right here babe, I’ll be back,” You pointed to them as Emily and Derek were fighting over the dartboard.

“You have 60 seconds to come back and your time starts now,” He holds up his watch. “I’m counting.”

“Okay.”

You made your way around people dancing and the gaming section. You got the bar and asked for a glass of water. Once you got the glass of water you started to make your way back to the table as someone got pushed into you with force, letting the glass slip from your hand and break.

“Watch the hell out!” The guy raised his voice at you.

“Maybe you should watch your surroundings,” You mutter, slightly annoyed. You start to make your way through the crowd when you feel someone grab your arm; harshly.

You turned around to see the same guy from seconds ago, you tried to pull your arm back but his grip was tight.

“What the hell did you say to me?” He said with clenched teeth.

“Let go of my arm,” You tugged at your arm but he pulled you close enough to where you could smell nothing but alcohol on him.

“Not a chance honey, you have to apologize!”

“You bumped into me not the other way around so therefore you should be apologizing to me.” You try to step back but he wouldn’t let you. “I’m not kidding, let go of me.”

“I’m pretty sure she said to let go,” You hear someone say from behind you.

Spencer.

“Back off, will you?” The guy pushes Spencer as he tumbles back a bit.

“Did you touch me?” You don’t know what you saw in Spencer but something flipped the switch as you saw him get angry.

“Spencer it’s okay,” You place a hand on his shoulder.

“It’s not okay! He grabbed you,” Spencer yells.

“It’s not my damn fault that your clumsy ass girlfriend can’t see for shit!” This guy was trying to piss Spencer off and as far as you could see, it was working.

“Spencer please don’t, it’s not worth it,” Spencer wasn’t even looking at you. “Come on.”

“Better listen to your girl.”

“Spencer turns around, please,” You continue to say as Spencer turns around with you.

“That’s right walk away! Your skinny ass looking like a pipe cleaner wouldn’t have the guts to fight me anyway!” As you walk past the guy, he sticks out his foot causing you to stumble and fall.

As you fell, you felt your head hit something, hard.

“Did you not hear me when I said not to touch her!” You hear Spencer yell as everything is blurry to you. Before you could even process what was happening, Spencer’s fist was in the guys’ face.

“Spencer!”

But it was too late. The guy swung back, hitting Spencer in the cheek.

“Morgan! Morgan! Hotch!” You yelled, still on the ground. You felt something seeping down the side of your forehead; blood.

Spencer and the guy continued to yell at each other, no matter how loudly you screamed, neither of them stopped. You have never seen Spencer like this and you didn’t like what you were seeing. Spencer isn’t a violent person. He’s soft and caring.

You’re trying to get up as you start to feel light-headed until you see blurry figures running towards you.

“Reid, knock it off!” You hear Morgan’s voice.

“That’s enough!” You hear Hotch.

“Y/n, are you okay?” You hear Emily’s voice. “Y/n, look at me,” You’re finding it hard to concentrate as you feel someone wrap their arms around your shoulder. “I’m right here. You’re okay.”

“Reid, that’s enough!” Hotch shouts, gripping his arm. You blink a couple of times until Morgan comes into vision as he pushes the other guy away from Spencer. “Stop it!” Spencer is heavily panting as Hotch stands in front of him, keeping him away.

You see Rossi rush over to the bar and tell the bartender something.

Spencer pushes Hotch away as he walks towards you but Emily stands in front of you.

“Go,” She points to the door. “Get some air, now.”

Spencer sighs, leaving the room.

Garcia rushes to your side. “Y/n, your bleeding.”

You sat on the back of the ambulance, letting the EMT patch your forehead. You watched Spencer as he sat on the curb with his head in his head.

What on earth was going on with him?

You thanked the EMT as you got off the ambulance, the team was all gathered by the door, just watching Spencer as well.

“Hey, you doing okay?” JJ speaks up softly, rubbing your shoulder as you nod.

You all stood there for a couple of minutes, not saying anything. Morgan starts to move towards him but you stop him.

You walk up to Spencer and sit down beside him. You both didn’t say anything but now Spencer was rubbing his knuckles. You softly grabbed his hand and ran your thumb over his knuckles as Spencer winced in pain.

“Sorry.”

Spencer looked at your wrist and grabbed it, pushing up your sleeve. “He felt marks on you,” It was like Spencer was telling himself more than you.

You looked down and noticed a small blue and purple bruise starting to form.

“You shouldn’t have hit him.”

“But he hurt you.”

“But that doesn’t mean you hurt people,” You slightly raise your voice as Spencer looks into your eyes.

“I know.”

“I don’t know who that was inside,” You whisper honestly. “I don’t know the person who was beating up that guy. You don’t do this type of stuff.”

“I didn’t mean to,” Spencer’s words seemed so sincere.

You ran your thumb over his cheek and he slightly pushed away from your touch.

“Is it bad?”

Spencer shrugs “I’ll live.” It was just then Spencer realized you had a bandage on your forehead and you could tell he instantly got tense.

He leaned in and kissed your forehead.

“Does it hurt?”

“I’ll live.”

“Babe, I’m sorry I never wanted things to get so bad. I just don’t know what came over me.”

“I know, but you did let your temper get the best of you tonight.”

“I’m aware and I’m sorry.”

“I know you were just trying to protect me. I love that you stand up for me and that you don’t let people treat me that way. But you could have really got hurt.”

“We hunt serial killers every day and you think a bar fight would have killed me?” Spencer raised his eyebrow.

“You know what I mean,” He nods. “What happened tonight? I’ve never seen you this angry, ever. You’re good at sharing your problems with me instead of going around and punching random people in the face,” Spencer laughs.

“I guess I’ve just been a little stressed with this job,” You know there was more than that to it. You nod as you encourage him to continue “and my mom.”

You rested your head against his shoulder as Spencer grabbed your hand, lacing it with his.

“Then please talk to me. I’m always here.”

“Thank you.”

“For what?” You look at him.

“For always being there,” You smile.

“So, does this mean your planning on getting into more bar fights, or was this your first and last?”

“I think I’m done.”

“Good,” You reply.

“For now,” He said as you rolled your eyes at him. “Are we okay?” Spencer asked, kissing your hand.

“Do I have to worry about you?” You ask honestly.

“No, I’m fine.”

“Then we’re good.” Spencer leans in and you lightly kiss him. “Does this mean that you’ll leave the fighting to the professional actors then?”

Spencer laughs at your question. “You really think your funny, don’t you?”

“I do but trust me when I say you’re going to hear about this for years to come,” You reply.

“I’m okay with that,” He said leaning in to kiss you again.

I think I love you a little bit more every day - Unknown

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid angst #spencer reid x fluff #BAU #bau x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds masterlist

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whenimaunicorn · 4 years ago

Text

Playing House - Part 8

In which we find out what Ivar’s “long night” entails... the warnings list also spoils the surprises, but do read it if you need to. This part is over 5k words, and the next post will finish the scene with almost 5k more. Ivar takes his time!!!

Warnings for: D/s dynamics including in-scene negotiation (always talk BEFORE you play folks) bondage with ropes, fear play, knife play. if you’re not ok with those last two, you can stop reading when that part of the scene begins and skip right to the next chapter. I’ve separated the sections at just the right spot so that you won’t miss anything else.

Many thanks and credits to @that-was-not-supposed-to-happen for this GORGEOUS moodboard!!!!

Catch up: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12

Ivar’s room is warmer than the kitchen. Which is good, because your body has already started entering that keyed-up state that makes you shiver and tremble.

You’re ready for a night of heavy play, really you are, but as you watch Ivar settle onto his bed, setting his crutches to the side, you’re hit by a burst of softer, warmer feelings too. Ivar Lothbrok has always been a closed book. Controlled, distant, keeping everyone at arm’s reach with his sarcasm and wit even as these exact traits draw you to him like a moth to a flame. But now, he’s finally letting you in. Even if it is only a little bit at a time.

He’s been so attentive to your desires. He’s created the most amazing scenes, the most tantalizing games, to set your body and soul on fire in ways you had thought were only ever going to happen in your fantasies. And yet, is he getting what he wants? You still haven’t seen him come. He’s never even let you try. You’d hardly noticed that at first, given all the wild new experiences he’s been putting you through, but at this moment you are almost overwhelmed by your need to give something back to him now.

You approach him softly. You would kneel at his feet but then you couldn’t embrace him like you want. So you leave the games behind and sit down at his side, take his hand between your own.

His gaze is locked onto yours. Watching indulgently, waiting to see what you’ll do. Maybe he doesn’t always need to be in charge. Although there’s a weight behind those eyes as he lets you massage his hand softly, as you lay kisses on each of his knuckles, that makes you feel like all the control is still his. What’s that term that horseback riders use? Letting you have your head. His grip on the reins is loose, but they are still in his hands.

You want to show him your gratitude. That’s what this moment feels like, this almost-intolerably warm bubble that’s bursting up behind your chest. You’ve lost track of how many shimmering, mind-blowing orgasms you’ve had since this game began, and Ivar has not even once asked you to pleasure him. You have to give him that now. It’s not even guilt, it’s a craving. An imperative coming from the deepest part of yourself.

You lean in to kiss him on the lips. Still he watches, tipping his chin far enough to receive your affections, not moving enough to influence what you’re going to do next. Your lips travel to his cheekbone, his temple, his jawline. There is a part of you that can still hardly believe you are allowed to touch this perfect, angel’s face.

When your lips pluck at his again he opens to you, and when he kisses back he can’t help but do it his way, sucking at your bottom lip, meeting your tongue with his own. His hand comes up to the back of your head, fingers carding through your hair.

You lean into his body, letting your hands travel over his shoulders and chest, slipping under his arms to embrace the broad expanse of his back. You still can’t shake the feeling that you’re getting away with something, somehow, just by touching him this freely. It’s not that he’s reluctant, he’s just . . . still. Allowing himself to be caressed.

He pulls you in tighter, responding with more life the longer you two keep making out. You were almost worried you were doing something wrong, or maybe he was bored by something as simple as kissing, but now his body is writhing along with yours and you’re falling together into the sheets.

His fingers trace over your skin. The scalloped edging of the garter belt’s lace, overlapping the row of thin ribbons that form the side straps of your panties, give him plenty of textural interest to play with while you slip your hands up under his shirt.

His skin is smooth and warm, his abs springing up into your hand as he lifts his upper body high enough to pull his shirt over his head. Several locks of hair cascade down around his face in the shirt’s wake; you reach up to play with them immediately.

“Will you let your hair down?” you ask shyly. For months you’ve dreamed of what it would feel like to run your fingers along his scalp, through his long, thick hair.

He thinks about it, smiles, and tugs the elastic out of his little bun. The dark, silky strands slide between your fingers, and Ivar closes his eyes in bliss as you scratch softly along his scalp.

He finally seems to be relaxing. With your hands wrapped around his head you kiss him again, and he responds eagerly, his fingertips dancing along your ribs.

You want to be his good girl. You want to make him feel even better. Without breaking the kiss, you run your hand down over his tattooed pecs, skimming along his abs and sliding your fingertips just beneath his belt. Dipping under just a little, in a slow side-to-side; not so much teasing as asking permission. Your mouth goes dry just thinking about getting your hands on Ivar’s cock.

His abs tense. He’s pulling away. Oh no, a voice in your head says. What did you do wrong.

“Don’t you want to know what I’ve planned for tonight?” There’s mischief in his eyes.

You roll your body against him. “What if I have plans, too?”

Something drops out behind his smile. That’s not what he wanted to hear you say. Still, his smile is indulgent. “Do you.”

You’re committed. You run your hand down his belly, the direction of travel obvious. “I want to make you feel . . . as good as you’ve been making me.”

Ivar leans in, smirking. “It’s a good plan.” He nips at your lip. “Mine’s better.”

And just like that, he’s rolling away from you, reaching down to tug something out from under the bed.

“Are you very familiar with shibari?”

You sit up beside him. Ivar hauls a duffle bag up onto the bed, filled with neat coils of rope. They’re in several colors: black, teal, natural hemp brown. Ivar lifts two braided twists of brilliant crimson. You reach out to touch one; it’s as smooth and silky as it looks. “I’ve seen it. Never got to experience.”

Ivar taps one bundle of rope against your hip. “Would you like to try?”

The pictures you’ve seen online mostly feature blissed-out looking women bound elaborately from head to toe, wrapped in knots and open twisting weaves that turn their bodies into works of savagely sexual art. You look at the scarlet rope in Ivar’s hands, imagine it embracing your curves, binding and supporting your limbs, serving your body up to him while taking away all of your control. You find yourself nodding, vigorously.

Ivar is nodding too, his smile thick and broad.

“I’m not sure if I’m flexible enough.” You’re thinking of some of the contortions you’ve seen the models pulling off, seemingly effortlessly.

He shakes his head, bemused. “We will start with something simple. And comfortable.” He strokes your cheek with his thumb. “Sit up here, at the edge of the bed.” He unfurls a length of rope, holding it doubled in his hand. The first loop goes over your head, loosely. “Stand in front of me,” he orders softly.

His fingers brush down the center of your body as he straightens and smooths the two cords descending from the knot at the center of your chest.

“Your job, aside from following my directions, is to tell me immediately if any part of this does not feel completely comfortable. Do you understand?”

You nod, but he waits for you to give a full vocal answer. “Yes.”

He ties a knot into the doubled rope, about a hand’s-length below the first. Unintentionally, his knuckles brush against the bottoms of your breasts. “Something that feels a little bit too tight at first can become a major problem as time goes on. So you must tell me right away if any wrap is too tight.”

“Ok.”

Another knot, even with your belly. The small, accidental touches that come with his work are maddeningly tantalizing. Probably because you’re not used to standing in full lingerie in front of a guy while he concentrates on something other than tearing you apart. Ivar’s ability to delay his gratification is truly legendary. “I don’t plan on putting you in any stressful positions tonight. But if any part of your body starts tingling or going numb, I also need to know that as soon as you even think you feel it.”

“I understand.”

His knuckles brush the fronts of your thighs as he creates the next knot. Then he reaches up to trace the scalloped black edge of your bra. “We can do this naked next time,” he suggests, “but since you have never done this before, I want us to see how you react while you feel less…exposed. It can be surprisingly intense to have your whole body bound.” He presses the rest of the rope between your legs, reaching around to pull the whole length of it through to the other side. You step your legs a little further apart to let him work, enjoying the feel of the smooth hemp dragging softly across your inner thighs. “Which is what I would like to do, if this first section feels alright.”

You nod.

“Turn around.”

You’re disappointed not to be able to keep looking at Ivar’s face, but at the same time it’s freeing to be unobserved for a time, free to go inward and just feel everything about this strange and exciting new experience. He’s pulling the long ends of the rope up through the loop behind your neck now. Stopping before it gets tight, he coaxes you to step back closer to him. You feel his breath on your shoulder as he reaches around to check the level of the first knot he placed against your upper chest.

You start to realize what he’s creating with this rope when one strand comes around either side, under your arms, and loops through the ropes hanging between each knot, separating them out to form a diamond shape. It’s that lovely interlocking pattern you’ve seen in pictures before, wrapping the body in a net-like harness.

The first pass tightens the cords above your breasts, the second below.

“Breathe for me.” Ivar takes a deep inhale behind you, demonstrating what he wants. “Too tight?”

You are certainly aware of the ropes around your ribcage, and while they constrict just a little when you take a deep breath, it’s not restrictive, or scary. “No. It’s still easy to breathe.”

“Good.”

The pattern continues around your waist, taking all the slack out of the line so that by the time he has opened up the diamond beneath your navel, the rope between your legs is cinching against your vulva. You shift on your feet a little, testing the angles your movement can get on the tantalizing pressure there.

Ivar’s fingers follow the rope down, checking exactly what you’re doing. His chuckle is dark, and your breath catches at the pleasure of even the edges of his fingers sliding across your labia, through the panties. “I have heard that a knot can be placed in the rope down here, too. An experienced Dom can determine just the right spot.”

‘H-have you done this a lot?”

Ivar makes a musing noise. “Here and there. It is not always easy to find someone to practice on. I like to think that I have mastered the basics.”

You make an appreciative noise, rolling your body against the ropes that now beautifully and snugly encase you from chest to hips. “I don’t know who would turn this down. It feels amazing.” You feel, in fact, just a little bit like you’re on drugs. Grounded in the minute sensations of your body, and yet your mood is soaring, floating and ephemeral.

Ivar’s hands envelop your waist from behind and you almost swoon. They are so large, and so warm, stroking each diamond-shaped island of skin between the ropes. “Then you would like to continue?” He’s feeling it too; his tone is deeper and lighter both at once, as ultra-focused as you are.

“Yes.”

“Can I bind your arms?”

Oh yeah. All this, and you’re not even technically tied up yet. You take a deep breath, turning to look at Ivar sitting on the edge of his bed and staring up at you with dazzled eyes. “Yes.”

His gaze slips lower, and you turn more fully to show off his completed work. “Wow, you look…so good.”

You have to agree. The knotted bands of crimson both bind and enhance your every curve, stacking onto the effect of the silver-embroidered lingerie to make you look like a stolen treasure, the richest captive prize.

“I’m glad I chose the red,” Ivar says. “This shade compliments your skin tone so well.”

You look down at yourself, just reveling in the obscene glory he’s created of you. And rock your hips against that lower rope again. The interconnected tightness of the full harness is fascinating, erotic. The cords pull across your shoulders, around your breasts, encircling your navel.

And Ivar is not even done. “Can you stack your wrists behind your back?”

You turn around, showing him that you can.

“Do you think you could stay that way for . . . twenty minutes?”

You roll your shoulders, testing your muscles. “I think so.”

You feel him start to slide the ropes around. “I can release this quickly if your arms start to ache.”

Something else starts aching as Ivar continues to restrain you. The snugness around your wrists is enticing, and oddly comforting. As are the deft movements of his fingers as he lines up the wraps around your forearms. It feels like he’s sheathing them in several rows, and you let your hands go limp. They don’t need to do anything right now. They can rest.

Ivar’s fingertips dance up your arms when he is done. He draws you to face him again, and you do so, almost feeling like he’s put you into a trance. Normally you would feel awkward with someone just looking at you, like he is, saying nothing. But all nestled up in the embrace of the ropes, you’re happy just to stare back at him. His wide eyes show you that you look just as lovely on the outside as you feel on the inside.

His hands run over your upper body, in admiration of his work. He follows a similar pattern he had traced with the pinwheel earlier. You wonder if he’s going to bring that out again, now that you are bound and cannot escape. Your nipples harden at the thought of how vulnerable you are. And yet, you feel so safe here in Ivar’s room.

“I would like to bind your legs, if you think you could lay on the bed. It may be less comfortable on your arms, though.”

“Let’s try.”

You end up sitting up against the head of the bed, propped with a few pillows while he starts at your ankles, binding them together with a little knot in between. “Do you want to leave your shoes on?” he asks. “I love the heels, but if they are distracting you I’ll take them off.”

“They look cute,” you say. Luckily, they are not the kind that pinch you anywhere. “Leave them on.”

Ivar smiles and continues wrapping the rope upwards, creating a ladder pattern of staggered twists up and over your knees. Watching the precise movements of his arms as he places the cords just so, pulling the tail ends up and between your legs with slow, controlled motions so that they never slap against your skin, you find yourself hypnotized, dissolving on the inside into a warm and cared-for goo.

In no time at all, your legs have been constricted down to a mermaid’s tail.

“How do you feel,” Ivar asks, his breath edging on a whisper.

“Mmm,” you reply. He runs his hand up the side of your leg, skimming the skin between the rectangular windows sectioned off by the rope. You watch his hand dreamily until he bends to insert his face into your line of sight.

He says your name, gently urging you to focus. His eyes are careful and curious. “Are you with me?”

You smile for him, pushing through the trance to focus on being a little bit more of yourself again. “Yes. I feel . . . spaced out, that’s all. Not scared.” You shift against your bonds, just to feel how your arms and legs can’t go anywhere. “I like it.” You feel snug, safe, and somehow calm and excited both at once.

Ivar’s answering smile is indulgent. You can see how much pride he feels, having brought you to this state. His fingers slide along the edge of the binding just below your hips, the wrap that cuts a line across your bare skin above the lace top of your stockings.

“What now?” you ask.

Ivar dips his head, looking at you from under his brows as his cheek pulls into a crooked smile. “Now, we play.” His fingers rake around the sides of your hips, just intense enough to make you squirm.

Squirming is an interesting experience in these ropes. They tighten in unexpected places, calling your attention to various sections of your body, leaving you no room for any thoughts outside of the purely sensory. Ivar’s fingers trace up your sides, and he bends his head to lavish kisses inside the diamond at the center of your abdomen.

It’s a tender spot, made more vulnerable by the fact that your arms are locked behind your back. Tingles buzz through your whole body as the instinctive, survival parts of your brain try to make sense of what is happening. Ivar’s touch is loving, however, strong yet safe, and you melt happily into the buzzing confusion he’s made of your nervous system.

The constant snugness around your limbs makes you feel free, paradoxically. The obvious, concrete reminder that you are fully controlled gives you permission to let go, to stop monitoring yourself or holding anything back. As Ivar’s hands and lips travel across your body, you tell him, in a series of gasps, little moans, and even more primal noises, exactly how he’s making you feel. There’s no way you could hold any of it back. Every inch of your skin, every muscle in your body belongs to him now, and answers to his call.

Ivar makes his own growling sort of sound. “I’m going to move you,” he warns, voice thready like he too is overcome by something deeper than normal words. His strong arms grasp you about the legs and pull you further down the bed. Then he lifts you onto your side, grasping hands eager to explore more regions of your body.

There’s not an inch of you that you don’t want to give to him. The pattern of the ropes has locked your body into something that makes you feel beautiful from head to toe, and you’re not surprised that Ivar wants to explore you from every angle. You can just feel that everything from your ankles to the breadth of your shoulders has been enhanced into an erotic offering.

And yet, you are more than just an object for his use. Ivar remembers to readjust the pillows, to make certain that you are settled into a comfortable configuration as you lay trussed-up on your side across the bed. He kisses your cheek, then his lips ghost across your own in a tantalizing almost-kiss that awakens your desire for him immediately.

But Ivar’s lips are gone before you can kiss him back and keep him there, trailing down your shoulder and the outside of your arm as he moves to admire the ropes that crisscross your back. You are reminded of your longing to take his cock into your mouth. You wonder if he really realized that was what you were offering, before he took out the ropes. Although perhaps he just wanted to get you this way first.

You want to tell him of your wish, to offer this to him again. The need inside of you to give back something, anything to this tantalizing devil of a man is growing enough to choke you. And yet, the trancelike effect of the ropes is robbing you of your ability to speak. The need to direct anything, to choose anything, fades away under the constant sensory input reminding you of Ivar’s control.

His hands across your ass are heavenly. There’s not much ropework there: two strands emerge from between your legs, lining your crack like a thong before separating out to form the diamond harness that wraps your torso. Your leg binding ends well below the swell of your butt muscles. All that sensitive flesh is open and free, aside from the thinnest satin of your panties. You try to imagine how the red rope looks where it cuts across the center of the detailed pattern of silver embroidery on black.

Ivar’s fingers find the edge of your underwear, sliding along and lifting the scalloped hem from the top of your hip along the full curve of your glutes. He pauses halfway down, and pushes the fabric back a little farther. He chuckles. “Are you aware that Ubbe left a bite mark on your ass?”

Breath rushes into your lungs, waking you up a little. “No,” you answer simply.

Ivar only sounds amused. “Sloppy.” He has only ever seemed amused by the whole arrangement, but it’s only natural that you feel just a bit apprehensive when this topic comes up. After all, the whole thing has been framed as an excuse for Ivar to threaten you with punishment. There might be one coming now.

“I am reminded,” he smirks, “that you wanted a little pain tonight.”

Your body curls in a little, your bound knees pulling up closer toward your chest. Which doesn’t do much to protect your ass. Ivar gives it a little slap; not a painful one, but it makes you jump anyway. Your senses are so heightened right now.

“While I did enjoy giving you that spanking”—his hand soothes over you bottom—“now is not the right time to do something like that again. Impact play while you’re already in the ropes… I’m not going to overwhelm you like that tonight.” His fingers lift, dragging circles in your skin lightly enough to tickle. “Rope bondage is more suited for the more subtle kinds of sensation.”

Indeed, those light tickling strokes are sending tingles through your entire backside. You relax the tightness in your abs, letting your hips swell back softly, your core awakening to Ivar’s playful exploration of your hindquarters.

Maybe it’s your imagination, but his fingers seem to return often to where he had pointed out that bite mark. It makes you wonder how Ubbe would react to seeing you now, like this. Would he treat you with as much care as Ivar has?

It’s hard to picture it. More likely he’d use the rope around your wrists as a handle, just to sink in balls-deep and fuck you harder.

Ivar’s fingertips swirl down to your inner thighs, taunting you with the idea that he might start taking advantage of your position now too. Since he has literally tied your legs together, it might take a little creativity to get at your clitoris, but with your knees bent like this it wouldn’t be too hard to slide anything up into your pussy. Just the thought makes your body tingle, swell, and open to him.

Ivar shifts toward the edge of the bed. Your eyes had been closed, enjoying every tiny sensation, but the sound of his crutches against the floor causes them to open.

He doesn’t go far, crossing the room to his computer desk. You remain completely motionless, so blissed out from the trance of the scene that you barely even have the focus to wonder what he might be getting. You could crane your neck, look up far enough to see what he’s doing, but why? Whatever he’s going to do, he’s going to do. Ivar is in complete control here, and it feels so good just to trust him to take care of you.

He opens a drawer, then closes it. It’s easy to identify that sound. You let your eyes drift shut. He comes back, sits down beside you on the bed. And then, an even more distinctive sound: the “shink” noise of his switchblade knife springing open.

“I only meant to introduce shibari tonight,” Ivar says as your eyes land on the naked blade in his hand, “but since you had such a big reaction to the knives today…” he flips it a few times and smirks down at you.

It’s hard to describe the way your body responds to that knife. Your heart starts to race, your skin breaks out in prickles. Your breathing probably stops. Your pussy, in particular, clenches up and then floods with warmth.

Ivar watches it all. You have no idea what kind of expression he can read in your face. He ceases the casual flipping and holds the knife up in the space between you. “Is looking at it enough,” he muses, “or would you like me to touch you with this?”

Every bare part of your skin tingles. Here you are now, his perfect victim. There’s nothing you can do to protect yourself from that cold blade. He leans in just a little closer, but otherwise just watches your face. And waits.

That was a serious question, it seems. He’s really going to make you ask for it. You’re not going to be able to get away with just playing the silent victim here if you want a taste of that thing. It’s a hard decision to make, though. When your survival instincts are this keyed up, can you really say yes? But you don’t want to say no either. Not when one of your secret, darkest kinks is staring you in the face. An opportunity you can’t dare to turn away from. But no words come.

Ivar seems to understand your predicament. “Shake your head if you want to say no,” he says quietly. “Nod if you’re saying yes.” With the hand that is not holding the knife, he gives your arm a reassuring pet. “It doesn’t have to be tonight.”

It takes effort to take your eyes away from the knife, to focus on Ivar’s face again. He looks patient, and totally accepting.

You nod your head.

You might call the smile that breaks over Ivar’s face “gleeful,” but it runs darker than that. He pokes his tongue into his cheek and brings the blade closer to your skin.

He pauses. “What are your safewords?”

You have lick your lips before you can answer. “Yellow if I need a break. Red to stop.”

Ivar nods. “If you say ‘red’ I will put the knife away and take your arms out of the rope immediately. If you say ‘yellow’ we’ll talk, and figure out what you need so you can keep enjoying yourself.”

You nod, and the knife moves toward you again.

You expect him to start somewhere simple, and not too threatening, like your arm. He’s been so kind all night. Building you up so gradually through all these new experiences. But that knife is coming right toward your face. A dozen different muscles tense across your body. You would plead with him with your eyes, but you can’t look away from that blade. You hold your breath as Ivar lays it flat against your cheek.

It’s cold, and unyielding. You freeze, afraid to move wrong lest it slice you accidentally, although you know that deep down you still trust him completely.

“My gorgeous, helpless thing.” The knife drags slowly, a millimeter at a time. “What have you gotten yourself into.” It’s only the flat side, nothing sharp, but your body wants to shudder anyway. “Is this what you’ve been craving?”

He lifts it away from your skin, showing you the wicked edge. A weird sob comes out of your mouth when you try to answer. What a word choice, ‘craving.’ You feel desperate and not in control, although you know that you could end the scene the second that you want to. You are, in fact, enjoying freaking out.

Ivar gives you a condescending little smile like he understands this completely. “I can give you what you need, little one.” He leans in closer, steadying himself with one hand on the mattress, and the flat of the knife comes back to your face. “You only have to tell me your every desire.”

You trust him, but it’s impossible not to flinch when that blade trails off the edge of your jaw and you can feel the scratch of the tip. Except, your reflexes are afraid that flinching will make it worse, and so you clench up instead, the extra tension coming out in a high-pitched little cry.

Ivar watches your face carefully, but when no safeword comes he moves that sharp sharp tip to the swell of your shoulder. “You’re so responsive,” he muses, and drags the point along your arm.

You gasp, you can’t help yourself. You have no idea how much pressure would leave a mark, how much more might leave little beaded drops of red in its wake. You lift your head to look more closely at what he’s done.

He hasn’t done anything, yet. It’s all in your head, and you try to loosen up a little. “No marks on your arms, I remember,” he reassures.

The knife lifts, and hovers lower.

You can’t really see the skin of your flank. Ivar turns his hand, brushing you first with the back of his knuckles, inside one of the diamond openings over your ribs. Warning you where the knife is about to come. It’s soothing and sadistic both at once, isn’t it. The blade is cold as it settles upon your skin, and when he rocks it onto one edge, your breath becomes more and more shallow. He might actually hurt you here. You had only said ‘no marks’ where someone would see.

You whine between your teeth.

Ivar tips his head so that it’s even with yours, checking in. When you don’t give him a safeword he looks back to his work.

The knife lifts, then returns in a slightly different place. He tilts it up to its point, just as he did on your arm, and drags it in a short, slow line. It doesn’t feel the same as it did on your arm. The sensation is so much sharper, setting off much louder warning bells inside your head. If you don’t stop him, will Ivar let it cut your skin? Your breath is catching in little gasps, and there’s a pressure starting to build behind your eyes.

Ivar takes the knife away. “What are you feeling?” he asks softly.

“Um,” you start, struggling to control your breath well enough to give a coherent answer. “Um, I know that you won’t hurt me, but this is just scarier than I thought it would be.”

He nods, listening, and holding the knife well away from your body. “Are you having fun?”

“Yes,” you say immediately. “Yes, and,” you force yourself to be assertive, just as Ivar wants you to be, “I’m not sure that I’m ready to actually be cut today.”

Ivar’s smile is reassuring, his blue eyes blazing just for you. “And it’s ok if you’re never ready to go that far.” He flourishes the knife a little. “I’m enjoying every second of what your body does every time I even bring this thing near you.”

He moves down a little more, and puts his free hand on your hip. The simple touch is so reassuring, so warm, that those tears start brimming up against your eyelids.

You can tell that Ivar sees them. You remember he had said he wanted to see you cry. But he had probably meant from pain, not from tender emotion like this. You attempt to blink them back. Ivar squeezes your hip. “Breathe with me, y/n.” He takes a deep inhale, coaching you to do the same.

You pull the air deep into your lungs, expanding your ribs against his bondage. You keep your eyes locked on his.

“Good,” he exhales. “I need you to keep breathing. And don’t be afraid to tell me when you’ve had enough.”

You take one more full, deep breath. “I haven’t,” you say in a sultry voice that sounds a little more like your own. “Not yet.”

“Good.” Ivar lifts the knife again, setting it against the swell of your hip in the wake of his retreating hand.

Your breathy cry is a little closer to a moan this time. It feels much better there, a bit more sexy and a bit less terrifying. As he scratches a few slow lines across your skin, you focus on breathing deeply and watching his hand control the blade deftly upon your skin, fine-tuning the pressure to give you exactly what you asked for. The sensation of threat, without any real injury.

“If this were a movie, I would cut your panties off.” He slides the blade along their edge, setting off goosebumps everywhere and reawakening your core with fresh tingles. “But these are much too wonderful to damage.” He cocks his head the other way. “Although, I suppose that I paid for them, and I could always buy you more…”

He slips the blade underneath the lacy, scalloped edge, fingertips of the other hand sneaking under too, to hold the fabric taut. When you don’t try and stop him, you feel pressure and then a ripping noise begins.

The sudden looseness in the fabric floods your pussy with arousal. You’re exposed to him now, and his teasing fingers are quick to take advantage of that as he completes his work. It takes a second cut to free the garment from your body fully, and even the simple sensations of him sliding the remnants out from under the ropes and fully off you are distinctly turning you on.

You hear him close the knife, put it away. Then both his hands are on you, soothing over every spot his blade had threatened. He starts at your hip, bending down to press kisses into your skin, his firm hands running over the expanse of your cheeks. He drags himself up the bed behind you, until he can kiss that diamond window over your ribs where you almost lost it.

Next Part Here

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#ivar x reader #ivar imagine #ivar/reader #dom!ivar #ivar the boneless #playing house fic

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amiwritesthings · 3 years ago

Text

title: should have known better

pairing/characters: demon!dean winchester/claire novak

rating: 18+

Tags/Warnings/Advertising: extremely dubious consent, smut, age difference, size difference, size kink, fighting, a little blood, mild choking, spanking, vaginal fingering, vaginal sex, name-calling/degradation, biting, comeplay, multiple orgasms

Word Count: 4,675

Created for: @j3bingo - Square "Fuck off."

link to ao3

The bar is almost empty when Claire enters which suits her just fine. If the demon is here, it’ll be so much easier to lure it outside without an audience.

She scans the room, and she huffs a laugh when her eyes land on the lone figure at the bar, broad back, dirty blond hair, red shirt. Figures one, if not both, of them would be involved in this hunt.

She walks over, slides onto the empty barstool next to him. “Little past your bed time, isn’t it, old man?” she quips by way of greeting as she bumps her shoulder against Dean’s.

Dean takes another deliberate pull from his beer before setting the bottle down and slowly turning his head to look at her. His eyes rove over her face, dip down to the tight fit of her tank top for a second.

“Could say the same for you, little girl,” he finally drawls when he brings his gaze back up, tongue darting out to flick over his lips. “Whatcha doin’ here, Claire?”

She shrugs, leans in to steal his beer. He just raises an eyebrow at her, but she can feel his eyes on her, burning a hot trail down her throat when she tips her head back to empty the bottle. Her skin prickles, with what she’s not sure.

“Hunting,” she answers as she pointedly slides the empty bottle back to him.

“Oh yeah?” Dean sounds amused, eyes glinting with humor and something else she can’t quite place, and part of her bristles.

“Yeah,” she says, “a demon. Real nasty son of a bitch, too.”

Dean hums in response, takes a moment to give her another once-over. She crosses her arms over her chest on instinct, pulls the flannel tighter around herself.

“So I’ve heard,” Dean says, shaking his head at the bartender when he asks if they want another round. He jerks his chin at the guy, and the bartender glances at her before giving a nod and disappearing out of the side door at the end of the bar. There’s no one left but them.

“So whatcha gonna do when you find this demon, huh?” Dean turns in his seat, straightens, faces her fully, and even seated Claire can’t help but feel small. She shrugs, nonchalant.

“Exorcise it. Send the thing back to where it came from. I’m surprised you haven’t managed to yet. Really losing a step there, Dean.”

There’s a smirk pulling at his lips, eyes dancing dangerously. She startles, just a bit, when his hand suddenly comes up to brush a strand of hair out of her face with the index finger. His eyes are burning into hers and she swallows nervously, shifts in her seat.

There’s something off about the intensity in his face, that expression that looks like he wants to have her for breakfast, lunch and dinner.

She’s about to move, get to her feet, when his fingers take hold of her chin, digging in hard enough to hurt, forcing her to look at him.

“Where do you think you’re going, princess?”

She opens her mouth for a sassy retort but all that comes out is a gasp as she watches Dean’s eyes go black, demon black.

“Get out of him,” she manages to get out through the vice-like grip he still has on her jaw, and she hates herself for how weak and fearful it sounds, the tremor in her voice that betrays the determination in her eyes.

He smiles, all teeth and unfamiliar snarl of his lips, tilts his head to the side, considering. “You got it all wrong, darling. I’m not possessed, this is all me,” he drawls, deliberate, leaning in so close that she can smell the sour stench of beer on his breath, gets an intimate view of the endless black of his eyes.

It can’t be, Claire thinks, he’s lying. Demons lie.

The grip on her face eases and she flexes her jaw a couple of times to ease the pain, watches warily as Dean pushes to his feet, towering over her.

It’s Dean, in there somewhere, she reassures herself, even as her heart skips in her chest, pulse rabbiting loudly in her ears, the black of his eyes still haunting her, he’s not going to hurt her.

“The things I wanna do to you, princess, you can’t even imagine.” He rubs his hand down his jaw, drags a thumb over his own lip. “Tried to be appropriate before, you know? ‘Be a mentor, don’t take advantage’,” the demon mimics – Dean, himself, she doesn’t even know at this point.

Her blood runs cold when he steps close to her again, right into her space, lifts her chin with a single finger to make her look into his eyes. They are back to green now, but still dancing with sadistic joy, and she shivers when they drop to focus on her mouth.

“But now-,” he says, quietly, and she can feel his hot breath on her skin with how close he is. She tries to turn her away, but he won’t let her, fingers digging in either side of her chin again. “-nothing’s stopping me.”

His head dips and there’s a surge of panic, pure adrenaline flooding her system. He reels back when her forehead connects hard with the bridge of his nose and Claire uses the little space it creates to slide out of her seat and run, throbbing in her head be damned.

She can hear him laugh behind her as she weaves between the tables and she almost makes it to the door before he cuts her off, his big frame blocking her way.

“Feisty,” he says, a little nasally, his hand going to his nose. “I like it. It’s just gonna make me enjoy this so much more.”

She glances at the door again, calculating her chances and quickly realizing the odds are against her. She has to take two, if not three, steps to match one of his, and there’s no way he’s going to let her get anywhere close to the exit if the black of his eyes is any indication.

Claire grounds herself into her stance, like Dean had taught her, and he barks a laugh, rolls his shoulders back as he bounces on his heels.

“You wanna fight, little one? Come on then.” He crooks two fingers in a come-hither motion and Claire can’t help a snarl, her lip curling, as anger surges.

She takes a couple of steps around the table between them, keeping light on her feet, her mind racing a mile a minute to try to figure out the best plan of attack.

He’s loose, not even bothering to get his hands all the way up to block anything, grins at her with glee, and she bristles. She might be small, but she’s still taken out her fair share of monsters, alone, without help. She keeps carefully out of his reaching distance, hands up.

“What? All bark, no bite?” he taunts, and when he swings at her, it’s sloppy, telegraphing from miles away and it’s almost too easy for her to duck and get in close for a sucker punch to his kidney, get away behind him.

He doubles over, sucks in a breath and Claire quickly scans her surrounding, grabs for the nearest chair. She puts all her strength behind it, swings for Dean with the chair and it hits his side, shoulder, just as he turns. It splinters into pieces and Dean- Claire growls in frustration when Dean laughs, like it didn’t even hurt, like this is fun.

He brushes splintered wood off his sleeve, and Claire uses the opportunity to dash back to the bar, grab for the empty bottle, smash it against the edge of the counter. He’s almost at her back when she turns, broken bottle out in front of her and he backs up, if only a step or two, smirk still on his face, arms out to his sides. “Alright, princess. Come one. Go for it, free shot.”

Claire is shaking, with nerves and adrenaline, her knuckles going white around the neck of the bottle. He’s just watching her, waiting, raising an eyebrow at her when she doesn’t move and her muscles curl tight. Dean doesn’t even flinch when she lunges, sharp edges ahead.

Don’t lunge at a taller opponent, her mind screams, too late, in a voice that sounds too much like Dean’s.

He catches her wrist easily, twists cruelly, and she loses her grip on the bottle before she’s even close enough to hurt him. She bites her lip to stifle the cry that wants to escape, struggles with everything she has when he easily spins her and pulls her into his body, arms like a vice around her.

“You know what, it’s your lucky day, Claire,” he says, right against her ear and she stiffens at the closeness. “You admit to me you’re afraid and that you want me let you go, I’ll let you go, free pass.”

She squirms when his teeth nip at her earlobe, stubble rasps against her neck. The words are at the tip of her tongue, begging to be said, her heart racing.

“Hm?” he prompts again, and she kicks at him, gets him squarely in the shin, can’t help a grin when he hisses.

“Guess that’s a no then, huh, princess? Too proud to admit you’re scared, baby girl?”

She tries to kick again but they’re flush by now, so close together there’s no room, and she freezes when he grinds up against her. He’s- Dean- no, not Dean, the demon- he’s hard against her back, and she renews her struggles but all it gets her is a dark chuckle against the shell of her ear.

“C’mon now, Claire, don’t tell me you haven’t thought about it,” he breathes, and she shivers, just as much from the words as the ghost of his breath over her skin.

“You may act tough, little huntress,” his lips brush her temple, and she tries to turn her face away to no avail, “but beneath it all you’re just a slut looking to be fucked like all the others.”

She swallows against the panic rising in her throat, tries to think of a clever comeback, but all she does is shudder, from fear, from- no, it’s fear, she’s pretty sure.

“Ain’t that right, princess? Look at you already shaking in your boots.”

He groans softly in her ear when she tries to struggle again and inadvertently pushes back into his hard dick. “Bet you’re already dripping for me, huh? Just waiting for me to-”

Claire interrupts him with a frustrated cry of his name, her body finally going slack against Dean’s.

“You don’t have to do this, please, Dean-,” she tries, pleading, already knowing the answer.

“You know the magic words, princess, just say them and you can go.”

It’s tempting, right about now, but she’d be damned if she admitted defeat now. For all she knows, he’d just go and do whatever he pleases anyway. Demons lie. And she’s not going to give him the satisfaction.

“Yeah, I didn’t think so.” His arms around her loosen but she doesn’t have the chance to break away before she’s manhandled to face him, her back digging into the edge of the counter, his body looming over hers, hands either side of her.

“Just do what you gotta do, get this over with,” she spits, sounding way more confident than she feels, as she rubs her wrists, finally free of his bruising grip.

It’s unsettling, the way he just looks at her, hungry, silent. Her body vibrates with the awareness of how his eyes keep dipping to her mouth and she steels herself for what she knows is about to happen.

She can handle this, it’s just Dean, underneath it all, and she trustsDean, with her body, with her life, with- she makes a soft noise in the back of her throat when his mouth presses to hers, hot, demanding, biting at her lip, nipping his way inside.

And suddenly she finds she doesn’t know what to do with her hands, curls and uncurls her fingers at her side, then brings them up to his chest on instinct, to push him away, but he doesn’t budge, not an inch.

His fingers tangle in her hair, tug none-too-gently, and it makes her scalp sting. She bites the tip of his tongue in retaliation, and he draws away with a small hiss, leaving her with the metallic taste of blood in her mouth.

Dean’s eyes go black as he growls and that spike of fear is back again, making her body shake when he hauls her in, till they’re flush, the bulge of his erection pressing into her lower belly. He licks a sticky-wet stripe up her neck, whispers “naughty, Claire,” into her ear, low and dirty, grinds into her with a groan.

And as much as Claire hates it, her thighs still clench in response, fear and adrenaline mixing in her blood to a low thrum of something she refuses to name, even as she turns her face away to avoid his lips on hers again.

She gasps when his hand closes over her neck, long fingers spanning over the vulnerable expanse of her throat, fingertips digging into her jaw, forcing her to look at him.

“I’m going to wreck you, little one,” he promises as his fingers squeeze lightly, making it just a bit harder to breathe. And God knows, she should try to struggle, get away, but she looks Dean straight in the eye instead, presses her hips forward into him.

“Do it, then, Dean,” she breathes out against the resistance of his hand, defiance in her eyes. He’s not going to kill her, she’s ninety percent sure.

He cocks his head, considering, and she trembles when his fingers flex against her throat, anticipation mixing with the trepidation.

She exhales sharply when his other hand skirts down from her shoulder, trails the edge of her tank top, teasingly, before Dean palms her breast, thumbing at her nipple through the soft cotton. He chuckles when it pebbles under his touch, a smug sound that makes her hackles rise.

Still, Claire arches into the sensation, bows her back as much as she can, her head tipping back, makes it look good.

“Just a little slut after all,” he muses, more to himself than to her, his fingers tightening on her jaw when he brings her back in for a kiss. She lets him this time, lets his tongue plunder her mouth, trace her teeth. He tastes like beer and whiskey and still a little like blood and Claire wishes the little whimper that escapes her when he pulls away was just for show.

She can feel him smile, smirk, against her skin where he’s trailing wet-hot kisses down her neck, his hand finally dropping away from her throat to curve over her hip, run down to cup her ass.

Her hands fly to his shoulders when he lifts her without warning, both hands on her ass now, palming her, pressing her closer into his body. She bites her lip when he settles her right against his hard dick, grinding up into her once, twice with a pleasured groan.

It’s going to be a tight fit, Claire thinks, half-worried, half- no, she’s not giving him the satisfaction.

She twists her hands sharply into his hair, the strands longer and easier to grip than usual, dips her head to lick the swell of his lower lip, until he opens, lets her take what she wants.

She’s dimly aware that he’s moving, walking them somewhere, fingers kneading her ass, and she feels light-headed when they separate and Dean drops her onto – she blinks through the haze on her brain, licks her lips – the edge of the pool table, the felt rough underneath her palms.

He’s grinning again, eyes green now, but pupils blown wide, and she realizes only belatedly that he’s undoing her jeans, button, zipper, fingertips ghosting over the cotton panties underneath.

Part of her wants to stop him, the part that makes her squirm, tense her thighs.

He clucks his tongue in disapproval, one big hand coming down on her inner thigh to keep her leg splayed to the side.

“No going back now, princess,” he says lowly, and Claire shivers but straightens and drops her hands to the buckle of his belt anyway. The metal clinks as she undoes it with unsteady hands, and he draws in a sharp breath above her when she cups him through the denim.

“Wasn’t planning to,” she says, breathlessly, as she starts to work on the button. A groan rumbles up in his chest, and he stills her a moment later, makes her lean back so she has to put her hands back on the table to support herself.

“Up,” he orders as he hooks his fingers into the waistband of her jeans and she barely manages to lift her hips before he’s tugging, sliding the jeans down her legs, taking her panties right with them. They tangle around her ankles and Dean growls in frustration when it stops him from spreading her thighs.

He roughly pulls off one boot, laces barely undone, frees one leg, a satisfied grin pulling his lips wide when his hands return to her thighs.

She feels exposed, nerves fluttering like butterflies in her stomach at how dark his eyes are, how hungry when he looks at her. She jerks, in surprise and pleasure, when he brushes her clit, softly at first and then with more pressure. “So sensitive, princess,” he goads and God, she wants to say something snarky, she really does, but all she manages is a breathy whine.

Her world shifts again, suddenly, as he lifts and turns her, gets her belly down on the table, his hand running appreciatively down her back. He pushes at her flannel and tank top, rucks them up to expose more skin.

Her body tenses when he palms her ass again, uses his grip to pull her wide, enjoying the view. “Get on with it,” she grits out and he smacks her ass for it, flat palm stinging against her skin.

“So impatient,” he chuckles, and she jumps when a finger trails down into her folds without warning. The pad of a finger presses against her opening, slick, despite the situation, and he teases, for long, long moments, before he finally dips one finger into her.

And Claire, she’s not a virgin, but she quickly realizes that one of Dean’s fingers feels almost as thick as two of her previous boyfriend did.

She bites her lip to hold back a moan when his finger curls inside her with precision, making her hips jerk back into him.

The finger is gone a moment later, and Dean hums, lips smacking with a pleased groan. “Taste so sweet, princess.”

She feels her cheeks heat at the words, at the realization that he- she never gets to finish her thought when two fingers sink into her without preamble, pumping steadily, and she tries to hide her face, the flaming blush that comes with the obscene squelch of his fingers through her slick.

“Mmmh, so wet for me, aren’t you? How long you been thinking about this, huh? Thinking about me fucking you like the good, little slut you are?”

Claire grits her teeth, can’t keep her hips from pushing back. She makes an indignant noise when the finger suddenly still, resting just inside her opening.

“How long, Claire?” he prompts, and Claire mewls softly; she can feel the flush spreading down her neck and chest. She clenches around his fingers, gets a smack to her ass in return. “Answer me.”

She wets her lips, the felt of the pool table rough against her cheek.

“Long enough,” she finally bites out and is rewarded with the deep plunge of his fingers, the pleasure curling low in her belly at the fullness.

The peak of pleasure hits her out of nowhere, body going taut with an airless gasp as she clenches around his fingers, and he groans, low and throaty, sending her shivering through an aftershock when his fingers curl up into her once more.

Something close to a sob escapes her lips when he pulls out, and she can feel herself clenching on nothing. There’s the clink of the belt buckle and then only the rustling of denim.

She can feel her heartbeat in her throat, can taste the blend of anticipation and still the slightest hint of fear in her mouth.

He groans softly, and then comes the sound of skin against skin, wet, and she trembles with mortification when she realizes he’s spreading her slick all over himself.

She pushes up onto her elbows, the curiosity, the urge to see too strong, but he unceremoniously pushes her back down with a hand between her shoulder blades.

She expects him to say something, to snark at her about being a slut, but he remains silent, the only noise a rush of air when he finally presses into her.

“Holy shit,” Claire gasps, scrambling up onto her toes, at the pressure, the feeling of the thick head splitting her open. “Dean,” she breathes, almost a plea, “oh my god, I can’t-”

He’s unrelenting, coaxing her soft and open to accept him with little thrusts, impatient, the slick slide of flesh echoing loudly in the empty room. “C’mon, princess, just a little more,” Dean cajoles, groaning loudly when her body gives and he finally sinks in further, “there we go.”

Claire thinks she maybe forgets how to breathe for a second when he slides in to the hilt, the fullness and the stretch almost too much, muscles fluttering against the intrusion.

Dean churns his hips, grinds in impossibly deeper, and Claire moans brokenly when she feels his finger trace where she’s stretched open around him.

“Look at that,” he laughs breathlessly, pulling out just an inch before fucking back in a snap of his hips that sends her all the way up onto her tip toes, her feet almost leaving the ground, “the little slut that could.”

“Shut up,” Claire says weakly, her back arching when he drags almost all the way out just to sink back in without missing a beat.

She scrambles for purchase on the pool table, finds none. Dean’s fingers are digging into her hips bruisingly tight, pushing and pulling her to his liking, as he strokes into her long and deep – so fucking deep – and Claire whimpers as he bottoms out again.

She clenches around him, on purpose, as much as the stretched muscles allow, feels his rhythm falter for a moment. He fucks up into her that much harder on the next stroke, his body bending over hers. He brushes her hair out of her face, out of his way, mouths hotly down her neck, with the slightest hint of teeth. “So tight, Claire,” he growls into her ear, “gonna feel me for days.”

There’s no doubt in her mind that she will.

“C’mon,” she urges, voice thin, and when she tightens around him again, his teeth dig sharply into the nape of her neck as he sets a punishing pace.

She cries out, from the sting of teeth, the building pressure in her abdomen, curling tighter and tighter with every snap of his hips.

She’s going to come like this, she realizes, hanging off Dean's dick like a ragdoll, with his teeth in her shoulder and his filthy whispers in her ear.

She feels her toes curl, the pleasure building and building until she pulses around him, lips parting in a gasp as she trembles through her orgasm, vision going white for a few moments.

“That’s it, princess,” he praises, letting her orgasm ripple over him before he starts moving again, and Claire groans weakly, exhausted, oversensitive and still so full.

His pace is slower now, dragging all up inside her with every stroke and she shivers against him, tries to clench, get him to hurry up.

“Think you can give me one more?” Dean asks, all sweet and soft, like he cares, but when Claire turns her head, his eyes are black, demon black, a nasty grin on his face. She shakes her head weakly, hides her face into the crook of her elbow with a soft whine.

She jerks when a calloused finger circles her clit, and Dean groans above her. “C’mon princess, one more.”

He’s merciless, dick stroking, finger rubbing, and Claire thinks, this is it, fucked to death by a demon and I don’t even hate it, as the tension keeps building, coiling her body tighter and tighter, and finally Dean’s hips stutter into her, rhythm shot, as the tension in her snaps like a rubber band, sending her tumbling over the edge again. He pulls out with a curse, and she feels her insides flutter at the sudden emptiness, her hipbones digging into the edge of the table now that her feet touch the floor again.

The wet slide of flesh-on-flesh echoes loudly in her ears, and God, how is he still not done.

She tries to move, rubbery legs and all, but finds herself pushed back down almost immediately, Dean’s hand pushing her clothes further up her back. Dean’s breath hitches, and the wet noises stop, start again, like it’s too much for him, too, and Claire wiggles her ass with the last strength she can muster.

Dean groans, low and guttural, and Claire feels the first warm spurt of come on her skin, on her lower back, another, and more on her ass. She can feel it pool where spine dips, trickle down from her ass to where’s she soft and broken open. Dean hums contently behind her, a blissed-out sound, and then his fingers are on her again, rubbing the mess he's made into her skin.

And if she had any strength left, Claire would complain, make some smartass comment. As is, she lets Dean touch her, do as he pleases.

Now that the last waves of bliss are slowly dissipating, she can feel the aches set it, her sore muscles, the sting of the bite mark on her shoulder, the bruises she’s sure will be blossoming in dark blues and purples on her hips come morning.

She startles when he slaps her ass, and she pushes to her elbows. Her legs are shaking, as she tries to stand, and she steadies herself on the table. Claire grimaces when her shirts fall down her back, over the sticky-wet mess on her skin. Behind her, there’s the clink of a belt buckle and she slowly turns, watches as Dean rights his red shirt, runs a hand through his sweaty hair.

He lets his eyes travel down her body, from her messy hair right down to her panties and jeans still twisted inelegantly around one ankle. Dean smirks, wipes his thumb over his lip. “Been a pleasure, princess. You know where to find me if you want more.”

Her thighs clench, involuntary, and she narrows her eyes at him.

“Just fuck off, demon.”

It comes out only half as pissed-off as intended and Dean laughs, throws his head back with it, but turns to leave just the same, his hand coming up in a mockery of a wave.

Claire releases a shaky breath when the door falls shut behind him, wobbles on one foot to get back into her pants. She’s going to be so sore tomorrow; she can already feel it.

She fishes out her phone from the front pocket of her jeans, the screen cracked but still functional. She scrolls through her contacts; hits dial as she settles gingerly against the edge of the pool table.

It only takes a few rings for her call to be answered and she tries to keep her voice as steady as possible as she says “Sam, we need to talk about Dean.”

#ami writes #j3bingo #deanclaire #PLEASE HEED THE TAGS #i beg you #also i am 100% blaming decadent-prince for this #demon!dean x claire #writing #i did a thing

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cordeliafoxxe · 4 years ago

Text

✨SP Secret Santa✨

I hope you’ve had a wonderful holiday @goodeday2u !! I apologize that it’s a bit late, I had some technical difficulties. I haven’t written anything in a long time, but I hope you enjoy what I’ve written for you ☺️

(Credit to @grilledcheeseandguavajelly for the gif. Hopefully you don’t mind xx)

It was Christmas morning, but the warm weather or New Orleans made it feel like anything but that. You spent the morning with your nose in books about concealment spells and weather, a plan brewing in your head. A few hours later you stumbled upon one that you think would do the trick and you made your way to Cordelia’s office. Tucking the spellbooks under your arm, you knocked on the door.

“Come in,” you heard her say from inside. You gently opened the door to see your girlfriend sitting at her desk. Her glasses were perched on her nose as she busied herself with work. She hardly ever took a break from her Supremely duties. Even on Christmas when she should be relaxing (spending time with you, you thought) she still managed to find something to do. It was a quality you admired, her commitment to help as many young witches as she could, but you knew she deserved a break.

She had been extra hard on herself lately, believing that the rise of the Antichrist was causing her powers to diminish. She tried her hardest to hide it from the other girls, but one night in particular she had stumbled on the stairs and Zoe had to rush to catch her. It was Zoe that suggested you ask Cordelia for help with a spell so she’d realize how powerful she still was. Plus it would get her out of the office and hopefully take her mind off of the threat from the warlocks.

“Hey Delia,” you said.

She looked up. A smile spreading across her face as soon as she you. “Hi sweetheart.”

“So I want to surprise the girls with something for Christmas, but I don’t think my powers are strong enough on my own. Do you think you could help me?”

You carried the ancient textbooks to her desk and laid one down with a thud. You pointed to a section of the page that said circulus abscondito. Cordelia peered over the top of her glasses at the page. “And what do you intend on doing with that spell dear?” You carefully placed another book on top of the opened one. Cordelia’s eyes followed your hands as they trailed around, struggling to read from upside down. Her eyes scanned the page before settling on what you had been searching for. She placed her work aside on the desk and scooped up the books.

“You had better bundle up sweet girl,” she said with a wink as she walked past you. Grinning, you rushed to follow her outside, grabbing your coat on the way.

---

You watched in awe as Cordelia finished casting a spell around the coven. “That should do it.” She had made it look so effortless. You were hardly surprised though; she was the Supreme after all. You took a minute to watch her. She was smiling slightly, happy at the new spell she accomplished, the sun turning her hair a brilliant gold. She looked like an angel. She turned her attention toward you, making you blush at being caught staring.

“Okay, so this next part should be interesting,” you said. Cordelia came to stand next to you. Her knuckles grazed your side as she peered over your shoulder and studied the incantation.

After a few minutes, she took the book from you and set it aside. “This spell will need both of our powers.” She took your hand softly. “Focus on the sky and repeat after me okay?” You nodded.

“Frigidam aquam deducere,” she chanted. She furrowed her brows slightly and lifted her hands into the air. Following her lead you focused on the invisible water droplets in the atmosphere.

“Frigidam aquam deducere.” You could feel the air begin to tingle as the two of you continued to chant, loosing focus momentarily as you admired Cordelia as she concentrated on casting the spell. Suddenly you noticed a flicker of white in front of your face, then another, and another. You stopped chanting and tipped your head back to look at the sky that was now filled with softly falling snowflakes.

“We did it Delia!” You exclaimed as you turned to face her. She lowered her hands to clasp yours and pull you closer.

“Oh my sweet girl, I knew we could.” She grinned and wrapped her arms around your waist. “You are more powerful than you think.”

“As are you, Miss Supreme,” you countered. Her fingers gripped your shirt for a split second as the doubt crept back into her mind. She hoped you hadn’t noticed, but you did. You had been together long enough for you to recognize the smallest of signs. The tears collecting in her eyes gave her emotions away. “You are the strongest person I know Delia. I know you might not feel like it right now, but there’s not another witch on this planet more fit to be in charge of this coven. I trust you with my life, and my heart. There’s no one else I’d rather have as my Supreme.”

The tears had escaped their prison and were trickling down her face. You lifted a hand and gently cupped her cheek, wiping a tear away with your thumb.

“What did I do to deserve you?”

“I don’t know, but you’re stuck with me,” you giggled leaning in to brush your nose against hers. Cordelia lifted a hand from your waist and threaded her fingers through the hair at the base of you neck. She tugged ever so softly and pulled you in to a kiss. You savored the warmth of Cordelia’s lips on yours: a stark contrast to the cold snowflakes that surrounded you.

---

The girls were told that after breakfast together, they were to meet outside.

“Honestly what’s the big surprise about?” Madison groaned as she walked down the stairs with a few of the other girls. “If it’s not the hot neighbor next door or a bottle of booze big enough to drown myself in, then I don’t want it.”

Coco playfully slapped her arm. “Come on Madison. Y/N and Cordelia spent a lot of time working on whatever it is. I’m sure it’ll be great.”

Madison opened her mouth, ready to comment that you and Cordelia probably spent a lot of time doing something else when she reached the back door and the words died in her throat.

The entire backyard was blanketed in fresh snow. An igloo had been constructed (with the help of some magic) by the greenhouse, and lights were strung in the trees.

You and Cordelia had been waiting outside for the girls to arrive. You were met by the excited squeals and cheers from the girls. Their reaction made you grin, looking at Cordelia triumphantly. You stood to the side watching as the young witches clambered around to find suitable outfits, others simply braving the cold.

Mallory approached the two of you. “This is amazing, but won’t the neighbors see and come after us?” She was always worrying over something, never allowing herself to fully let go until she knew that she was safe to.

“We enchanted the area around the whole coven,” Cordelia said. “From the outside, it looks like every other day here. Now go enjoy yourself. Coco looks like she needs a teammate.” You followed Cordelia’s gaze and burst out laughing when it landed on Coco being pelted with snow by some of the younger girls. Mallory quickly sped off to aid her friend.

A snowball fight soon broke out and filled the air with hastily made projectiles. “You know Delia, not to toot my own horn or anything, but this was one of the best ideas I’ve had.” You grinned her way. She tucked a fallen strand of hair behind your ear.

“The girls do seem to be enjoying themselves.” You held your breath as she leaned in to whisper in your ear. “And I must say, watching you perform that spell with me got me quite flustered baby girl. You obeyed me so well.” Despite the cold, heat rushed to your cheeks. Cordelia’s teeth tugged at your earlobe as she pulled away, a groan leaving your lips.

You were conducting a plan to tease Cordelia back when a giant snowball erupted on your shoulder. Turning around, you faced Zoe and Madison bent over with laughter. With a flick of your wrist the branches above their heads released the snow that they were holding, covering the pair from head to toe in the cold powder.

“I might have stumbled upon that spell earlier today too,” you said with a smirk toward Cordelia who was laughing softly. There was a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Cordelia, don’t you dare,” you warned. She smirked and you knew there was no escaping, so you took off running with her hot on your heels.

The pair of you ended up dominating the snowball fight for a few hours before the girls surrendered and decided it was time to go inside and exchange gifts.

Cordelia had seemed to be in better spirits and not once did she feel her powers wane. You gazed at her by the fireplace from across the room. You weren’t sure if it was from spending time with her girls, but she was glowing. Her brown eyes met yours and she smiled softly. She retrieved a neatly wrapped package from under the tree and beckoned you over.

“Merry Christmas darling,” she said. You admired the green wrapping for a moment. “To Y/N, Love Cordelia” was written delicately next to a stem from a white orchid. You peeled the tape off of the edges not wanting to destroy the beautiful gift. Inside was a velvet box. Your heart sped up with anticipation. A dainty silver bracelet studded with emeralds and diamonds lay inside.

“It’s gorgeous Cordelia.” She picked up the bracelet and helped fasten it around your wrist.

“Only the best for you darling. I love you so much Y/N,” she said reaching a hand up to cup your face. She leaned in for another kiss and you couldn’t imagine a better end to Christmas.

“I love you too Delia.”

#spsecretsanta #cordelia x reader #cordelia goode #cordelia foxx #cordelia goode x reader #cordelia foxx x reader #ahs #american horror story #ahs coven

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thewalkingdead-imagines · 4 years ago

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Negan Imagine ~ “Exile”

Summary: After months of surviving the apocalypse together in the wilderness and finally taking the next step in their relationship, the Reader wakes up to find Negan gone, only a note of him left...

Request: Imagine inspired by “Exile” by Taylor Swift (lyrics can be found at the end!) Enjoy!

Night was slowly but surely falling over the campsite, only the flickering light of the campfire nearby enlightening the darkness. From afar, you could see the guard sitting at the flames, poking into the coal while some more sparks flew into the air, lightning up for a moment until they melted into one with the dark. You shifted over the makeshift bed in the large car that served as your bedroom for now, cuddling into the couple pillows you’d been able to get a hold on in the cabin, where some of the others were sleeping. It had been about three days since this place was your newest home, equipped with the small cabin by a calm river, some abandoned cars, overgrown beets that must’ve once been used for vegetables and an old but functioning outdoor shower that only an hour ago splattered clear water onto your skin and had reminded you of those little daily luxuries from before that you were truly missing. A rustling sound echoed through the night, loud enough for your instincts to kick in and let you jolt up, just to see a tall figure rounding the car, his silhouette enlightening for a moment in the warm light of the camp fire before he got to the lid of the car. A click sounded through the air before the lid slowly opened and Negan glimpsed right at you, a grin spreading over his face while his still slightly wet hair was falling into his face. “Welcome back to our luxurious suite”, you chuckled as you shuffled a little to the side, making enough room for him to crawl inside. “Good to be back”, he grinned with a wink as he climbed into the car, closing the lid behind him before he moved to your side. “Oh this is so fuckin’ comfy”, Negan groaned as he let himself fall next to you into the sheets, sleepily grinning at you as he cuddled into one of the pillows „Mhmm“, you mumbled, moving to lay on your side to face him in the dim light,“You think we can stay here a little longer?“ “I hope so, I’m digging that shower!”, he laughed, grasping the edge of the large blanket that was hugging you to tuck himself in as well. “Me too”, you mumbled with a chuckle as a wider grin formed on Negan’s lips. “Yeah I could tell, you took forever”, he said, tease swinging through his deep voice, provoking you just enough to shove his chest playfully. “Wow, says the right guy”, you laughed, grinning at him while he moved to take your hand that had just landed on his body into his hand to give it a small squeeze, ”how long have you just been there?” He just shook his head, still keeping your hand in his, enough to let a wave of warmth wash over you before a good bit of roguishness started to mix into his glance.“Y’know to save some water we could just shower together next time.” “Oh god”, you called out with a groan, a laugh rumbling through you as you glimpsed at him,”Your pick up lines have been more creative before, that’s some fuckboy shit.” “‘Cause that was no pick up line that was a serious offer!”, he defended himself, though the grin he was temporarily trying to suppress kept tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Sure”, you snickered with a nod, still feeling how the warmth was lulling you more in the longer he held onto you. “You should come here”, Negan mumbled as he tugged softly on you hand and glimpsed at the spot right next to him with another grin,”Unless you wanna hop under the shower together after all.” “Guess Martin’s there now, bet he wouldn’t find that so funny”, you responded with a chuckle, trying to keep the heat that was rushing into your body as well as your mind under control that would be too happy to imagine Negan under the shower now, while you scooted over to him into your usual sleeping spot. “Oh he’d get one hell of a show, can’t imagine he’d complain about that”, Negan rasped against your skin as soon as you cuddled against him, feeling him wrapping his arms around you and giving your waist a soft but teasing squeeze. You chuckled once more, part of you trying to cover up how much effect his voice and his words had on you while you hooked your leg over his hip, cuddling a little closer to his side while a deep, content growl tumbled through Negan’s chest. It took seconds for this warm, comfy feeling to set in, allowing you to feel safe right there in his arms. He had that ability to make you feel safe like no other and you couldn’t even pinpoint why, he just needed to put his arms around you and you felt safe, just like now, even though you were sleeping in a car in the middle of the woods. You’d known when he’d joined the groups nearly a half year ago that he surely was someone special, with that very specific kind of humor and the colorful language of his but you hadn’t thought that he’d become to you what he was now; one of the very most important people to ever step into your life. You’d barely been able to open up to anyone after losing all your loved ones right at the start of the shit show, after having to helplessly see them being torn apart, but Negan had been able to help you get some of the parts back you’d thought you’d lost forever. You could trust again, you could belly laugh again, you could truly bond again and feel pure happiness stream through your body. He’d become your homeland, your best friend, your very own safe haven and you knew that you were his too. You could feel Negan pressing a soft kiss against your temple, letting a warm wave wash over your back while you leaned a little into his touch, enjoying the softness of his lips and the roughness of his stubbly beard. That’s how far you’d gone until now, cuddling, teasing and kisses to your forehead. You wanted more, fuck you wanted way more but there was a small part of you that had told you to go slow for the longest time, though it was becoming smaller and smaller with each touch of Negan and by now, it was barely existent anymore. You moved in, feeling how Negan’s hand grasped yours and caressed it softly, taking it fully into his as your eyes dropped down to the back of his hand and his knuckles where small, nearly faded scars, that had been boasting wounds months ago covered his skin. “They’re almost gone”, you mumbled, gently rubbing your thumb over the light scars remembering the night he got them vividly. It was shortly after he had joined and while you’d felt drawn to him from the beginning, this night had given you a first true possibility to feel safe with someone again. It had stormed so badly back then, leaving your group running through the dark forest in hope to find shelter from the dead and the forces of nature. You could still remember being split off with Negan from the rest as a group of walkers approached, could see yourself tripping in the dark, wet underwood on a hillside that left you tumbling down to its foot, with sprained ankles that didn’t allow you to run from the dead. He’d stayed with you, even though he’d barely known you at this point, knowing very well that he’d had to fight the dead alone if he wouldn’t leave you, and risk his own life. He’d killed them all, one by one with his bat that was all wet from the rain that let it slip more than just once in his hands, slitting parts of his hands with the barbed wire that was covering it, leaving his knuckles bloody. He hadn’t stopped once, hadn’t attempted to flee once and leave you alone regardless of how risky it got and once they were all laying dead on the muddy ground, he’d propped you and helped the both of you get back to the rest. You sure had to deal with the sprained ankles for longer than you liked and the agony they had given you had been a pain in the ass, but besides that, this night had given you the chance to finally feel like you could fully start to count on someone again and be sure that they wouldn’t leave you, regardless of how tricky the situation got. Negan was there, he’d always been there after that night, growing your trust until the both of you were as good as inseparable. “Hmm”, you could hear him mumble, squeezing your hand softly back while you still glimpsed at his large hand around yours. “Y’know I know you can take care of yourself“, he started, keeping your hand in his as he spoke back up, ”But hell, if another situation like that would come up, I’d do it all over again. Even if those damn scars wouldn’t fade”, He mumbled, just before another chuckle left his lips “I guess they actually make me look like the dangerous motherfucker I am huh?“ „Very dangerous“, you laughed, though a wide smile was pressing into the corners of your lips while you moved a little up, enough to glimpse at him in the dim light. “I meant it though“,he said, moving his hand from yours to stroke some loose strands of your hair back while some more heat began to rise in your body the longer his eyes stayed fixed on yours, a smirk growing on his face once more,“Always gonna be there, ready to fuck anybody up who wants to mess with my girl.“ “I know”, you mumbled, trying to not show too much what these last two words were doing to you when they slipped out of his lips,”I’m always gonna be there for you too. We’re a team.“ Negan nodded slowly, his fingers still caressing slightly through your hair while the small grin stayed stuck on his lips. "We‘re gettin‘ sappy now, huh?“, he grinned, a rough laugh falling from his lips while you could tell that your body was responding more and more to his touch, to the feeling of his body pressing against yours and the feelings of how his rough fingertips stroke slowly through your hair. „I don’t mind it“, you mumbled, your eyes still staying fixed on his as his hand moved down to caress his thumb along your jaw before it traveled to the back of your neck, curling his palm around it while his fingertips kept circling over your skin. Slowly but surely he started to let your heart pump faster as nearly instinctively your hand started to move from the spot on his warm chest up to his jaw, almost mirroring his movements earlier as your fingertips teased over the short salt and pepper stubble. You could feel yourself holding your breath as both of your gazes were fixed on one another and the tension that had lingered for the longest between you started to sky rocket. Your body started to tingle, the longing of more of him started to become even stronger as his eyes started to drop to your lips, letting your heart jump as you could feel him putting a gentle pressure onto the back of your neck, careful and just enough to slowly guide you down to him. You let him, moved almost instinctively closer as his warm breath started to softly hit your skin, giving you the feeling that right now, right here was the perfect time to finally take things further. Your mind shut down, handing you over to your instincts and the longing within you as you closed your eyes and could finally feel Negan’s lips brushing against yours, soft at first, as if part of him was trying to make sure that you were fully on board. And like hell you were. You hummed into him as you first felt his lips against yours, their softness combining perfectly with the roughness of his stubbly beard while heat streamed through your body, allowing you to dive deeper into the beautiful trance Negan’s lips were putting you into. He groaned against you as his kisses grew hungrier, going from soft and careful to longing and more demanding while you moved closer, caressing your fingers over his jaw. He was leading you, taking all possible insecurities away as he was kissing you loving and rough at the very same time intensifying the excited tingle all over your body until you were out of breath. You were shivering, laying still half on top of him as your foreheads rested against one another, trying to catch your breath again while Negan’s fingers still caressed over your skin and you still couldn’t fully believe what had happened. “Shit, I’ve wanted to do this for so long”, Negan mumbled still heavily breathing against your skin as soon as he got his speech back, already slowly pulling you back down to him, enough to caress his lips over yours again, hungrier with every passing second. You immediately melted back against him as he kept you in this little bubble of happiness and tightened his embrace while he slowly started to roll you on your back, underneath him. You hummed as soon as you felt his weight pressing in on you, felt his hand moving to your jaw, his thumb brushing over your cheek while your fingers entangled in his dark curls. You were filled with pure happiness, felt so unbelievable comfortable and excited while his caresses felt so new and familiar at the very same time. For a second, Negan’s lips left yours, still hovering over them as the urge within you moved up to get some more of his intoxicating kisses. “Someone wants some more”, Negan groaned against your lips as you let out a chuckle. “Mhmm”, you mumbled, already feeling his lips pressing against yours again as you let out another hum,”Is that bad?” “You’re kidding me? It’s the fuckin’ opposite of bad”, he halted for a moment, moving away just enough to glimpse roguishly at you, licking his lips before he winked at you. “Looks like my pick up lines worked after all, Sweetheart”, he chuckled, squeezing your waist teasingly,”Creative or not.” “Oh don’t get too cocky”, you mumbled back, shaking your head with a small laugh as you leaned back in, a bit more confident now as Negan dipped his head back down to you and met your lips with another kiss. Just then you fully understood that this was real, that you were actually kissing Negan, that this wasn’t a dream. As soon as you felt his lips back on yours you allowed him to wrap you up in his scent and touch while you let yourself completely fall, more and more with each kiss. You were in love with him, there really was no way to deny it anymore. You were utterly and deeply in love with him and all these kisses only made you realize it more and more with each further touch. You stayed like this, entangled with one another, kissing and relishing in each other, releasing all the tension that had build up during this whole last time until you found yourself wrapped up in his arms, with his lips brushing against your forehead and his fingers caressing over your skin. You could barely think of any other moment you’d felt so at ease and happy, almost overwhelmed with positive emotions that kept you in some kind of hazy high. And slowly, you started to fall asleep in his arms, cozied up to him and relaxed, as if you weren’t laying in the back of a car in the middle of the woods but the safest place on earth.

Your sleep was calm and deep as it could be until Negan’s softly shifting body started to wake you up, feeling the tension that was laying over him that was usually only present when yet another nightmare had struck either of you. You shifted a bit, still half asleep as you slowly opened your eyes and could hear him letting out a tense breath. “You’re okay?”, you mumbled drowsily, cuddling a little closer up to him while a small yawn slipped out of your lips. “Yeah”, he mumbled, nodding slowly before he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead,”Just woke up for a moment.” “Nightmare again?”, you asked, glimpsing a little up at him as you could feel him shaking his head a little. “Nah, not this time”,his drowsy voice mumbled back before he brushed his lips against your skin again and pulled you a little closer ,”It’s all good, bet I’m gonna fall right back asleep. Just need ya to c’mere” “Alright, that’s doable”, you mumbled with a small, sleepy chuckle back, leaning a little in to press a kiss against his stubbly jaw before you nuzzled your nose back into the warm curve of his neck, and huddling closer up to him. “Sleep tight, Sweetheart”, you heard him mumble lowly, his warmth and scent already getting you back to this comfy bubble that allowed the sleep to slowly wash back over you. For another moment, you waited, assuring yourself that he didn’t have something to talk about after all before you could feel him smoothing your body against his once more, while let your hand caress softly over the center of his broad chest, figuring that simply staying cuddled up to him would be the best way to help him right now. “You too”, you only mumbled then, your voice a bit muffled as you got lulled into the comforting darkness of sleep, little by little until it had fully wrapped itself around you and pulled you into its depths.

Soft sunlight was falling through the windows of the car as you started to drift out of your sleep, shifting uncomfortably over the sheets, irritated by the lack of Negan’s warmth around you. Tensing your brows confusedly you opened your eyes, slowly getting used to the early morning light while a yawn left your lips. “Negan?”, you mumbled drowsily, still not completely conscious as your sleepy glance started to search for him only to find yourself alone in the car. Grumbling irritatedly to yourself you slowly started to sit up, glimpsed around you and outside of the car, spotting part of your group, about four of the others, who were already sitting around the now extinguished campfire, eating some breakfast while the rest was likely still sleeping in the tents and the cabin. Negan wasn’t among them, which just let you assume that he’d simply made a trip to the makeshift-bathroom and had tried to not wake you up in the process. Shrugging and guessing that he was likely about to come back to you in a little you rubbed your eyes and let yourself sink back into the pillows, deciding to get some more sleep as long as you had the chance before your eyes caught a small piece of folded paper laying on his side of the mattress. Furrowing your brows confusedly you reached towards the sheet, grabbing it as another yawn slipped out of your lips. You folded it open, not thinking much of it before your eyes wandered over the words in its middle, and from one moment to another, those words turned your world upside down.

I’m sorry, I really am But it’s better like this, believe me You’re better off this way

Nausea flooded your body, tightening your ribcage and throat, cutting off your breath as you stared at the sentences and felt an unbearable ache traveling down your arms, letting you shake vehemently as soon as you started to realize what was happening. He was gone. Negan was gone. He had left you. For just another moment you hoped that this was a bad joke, that he would pop up by the car and yell that he was just joking but as you started to tremble harder and looked panicked around the car, you found all his stuff missing, from his beloved bat to his backpack. He was gone. ”No, no...”, you mumbled shaking to yourself, grabbing the paper tighter as the lump in your throat grew bigger, forcing you to wince while only the shock that was stuck in you kept you from breaking out in tears. You started to read his words over and over again, found your glance swaying to the other parts of the paper that had been written onto but had been completely blacked out by uncountable black pen lines, only leaving his final version plastered in the middle. You couldn’t understand what was going on. You couldn’t get it. He’d kissed you last night. Everything had been as perfect as it could be. You’d been happy, right? He couldn’t be gone. He just couldn’t. You both were too close for him to just leave you out of the blue, vanish without any explanation and force you to never be able to see him again. He was your closest confidant, your best friend, the man you’d fallen for, and you’d thought that he felt the same about you. He wouldn’t do this to you, right? He knew how scared you were of losing someone else close to you, he knew how afraid you were of being abandoned. He wouldn’t do this to you, right? But he wasn’t here to prove it, instead, everything around you in these moments forced you to believe the opposite and slowly but surely realize that your worst nightmares were starting to become true. Negan was gone. He had packed his things while you’d slept. He had written this poor excuse of a note in what looked like the matter of a few minutes and then, then he’d left you. You felt like you were stuck in an impuissance, in a bubble of powerlessness, half of you unsure if this all was truly happening as this all rather felt like a bad film while the other half was already drowning in pain. Your head was a total mess, your mind trying to make sense of all the intimate moments you’d shared with Negan in the past, with your growing relationship and the countless moments of closeness, and the situation you were confronted with right in these very moments. How could he just leave you? After everything that had happened between the both of you, how could he just leave you out of the blue? ”Morning”, you suddenly heard a voice sound muffled through the closed lid of the car, letting you flinch up and shoot your eyes towards Tony, who was knocking softly on the window and lowered his head a little to glimpse inside, check if you were already awake. By the confused way he looked you could tell that he was expecting two people instead of just one to sit inside the car, and you could see him shaking his head softly before he reached down to open the lid up.ing ”Morning, where’s Negan?”, he asked, stroking his blonde curls back to keep them from falling right into his face while you stared at him like a deer in headlights, still shaking. “He’s gone”, was all you could get to slip out of your lips, still holding onto the note as if your life depended on it while Tony’s brows started to furrow, as if he couldn’t quite get what was happening either. “What-” A blood-freezing scream cut him right off and spread a whole other tension all over your body within mere seconds. You grabbed your knife and shot outside of the car, only in your sleeping clothes and on bare feet as you followed Tony to the source of the screams and the nervous voices that started to mix with them, only to feel your heart skip another beat as you saw their source. Pam was laying on the ground, clutching her throat as blood kept spewing out of the curve of her neck, turning her whole figure red while Thom dragged his knife out of the dead walker’s skull beside her. “No...no!”, she gasped, her voice rasp and breathy, barely audible while you could see Janice moving in to hold her shaking body and heard the rest storming towards you. You stood there, like glued to the ground while you couldn’t fully get what was happening, could only feel new tears shooting into your eyes as you saw your friend bleeding out, still gasping for air though you knew that each one could be her last. Your dizziness got worse, everything around you became a blur again, the voices, the situation that played out in front of your eyes before loud, deadly growls ripped you out of your trance. From one moment to another you could see walkers coming closer, attracted by the screams as they shuffled through the trees towards you. They ripped the safety lines of wire that were spun around the trees apart with their strength as a group, pushing further and while your head still didn’t get what was happening, your body’s instincts took over and made you react. You couldn’t count how often your knife dug into rotting skulls, one by one until they became too many, pushing further and further into the camp before you heard Janice calling for everyone to grab what you still could and flee. You did, taking everything that felt necessary in these moments, slipping into your boots, grabbing your clothes, backpack and the note before you stormed towards the others only to hear more screams echoing through the air. “Run”, you could hear Thom scream as you turned around and saw walkers closing in on him, burying their teeth into his skin, starting to tear him apart before so many dead surrounded him that he disappeared within them. You could only feel how your legs began to move as soon as you realized that there was no way to save him anymore and a feeling of excruciation pain spread out all over you and only the adrenaline kept you running. You followed the rest that had made it, ran until your feet hurt, until your heavy breathing made it feel like it was cutting crannies into your throat, and until you had left the walkers and the bloody camp-side far behind yourself.

This day felt like a nightmare you were unable to wake up from. No matter how much you tried to get it off, there was still some blood sticking to your hands when the night-sky was covering the firmament again and you found yourself sitting on a tree trunk by the bustling flames. Your new camp was far from the place you’d lost four of your friends, far from the place you’d last seen Negan and still, a piece of him was still there with you, laying in your hands. You were staring at his messy handwriting over and over again, at the blacked out spots and the sentences in the middle, trying to somehow find out what he could mean with them and what could hide behind the thick, black lines. You still hadn’t fully processed that he was gone, still expected him to come out of the woods towards you or stick his head out of one of the tents but with every passing moment and with every bit the stress and shock of this day beat retreat, the reality started to set in more. You looked back at the note, seeing how the flames shed a warm light onto it while your eyes wandered over each word and letter. “It’s better like this”, “You’re better off this way”, what the fuck was this supposed to mean? It didn’t make any sense, not after what you’ve had in the prior night together. Did he actually just act like he enjoyed it and this was his shitty take on “It’s not you, it’s me”? Did he really not feel like you felt for him? Why the hell would he say that you were better off this fucking way? You were miserable, nothing else. “You should just burn it”, you could hear Tony’s voice echoing through the air, letting you flinch a little as your glance shot up to him while he made his way over to you, pointing at the note ,”Try to forget him, he ain’t worth it.” He shook his head with a sigh, letting himself fall next to you onto the tree trunk while he bit a bit off of the stickbread that he was holding in his hand. “I always had the feeling that there was something off with him”, he mumbled, grimacing slightly as he glimpsed at the note, stroking some crumbs out of his blonde beard stubble ,”What a bastard.” You gulped, starting to fold the note, trying to fight the small part in you that hadn’t quite comprehended yet that Negan was someone else than you thought and still wanted to defend him. “Can we not talk about him?”, you asked, shifting uncomfortably as you buried the note back in your pocket, not yet ready to let go of it. Tony nodded, his eyes fixed on your hands as they zipped the pocket shut. “You want some?”, he then asked, holding the bread in his hands for a moment up before he pointed with it to the other side of the campfire,”We still got enough of it.” “Not hungry”, you shook your head, sure that if you’d try to eat something now you’d throw it back up in the very next moment ,”Thanks though.” “No problem”, he said as he got back on his feet and glimpsed to some of the others who were sitting by the tents back to you,”Y’know we got the guard shifts for tonight already sorted out. When you wanna sleep, you can do so, don’t have to wait for us to decide anymore.” “Okay, thanks”, you nodded, seeing how he tried to put a supportive smile on his lips before he reached down to give your shoulder a soft pat and made his way back to the rest, giving you some space. You just wanted this day to be over, so maybe it wasn’t wrong to just go to your tent and try to shut your mind down and fall asleep, or at least try to. Your body was definitely exhausted enough to crave some sleep, all you had to do was get your thoughts under control. You finally got up from your spot on the tree trunk and strolled over to your tent, climbing over the ropes that held the other ones in the ground before you could climb into yours and zip it shut. You had tried to make it as comfortable as you could with the things you had left and tried the same with yourself as you slipped into some more comfortable clothes, hoping that it would somehow trick you into feeling better. You eventually cuddled into your sleeping bag and turned your jacket into a bundle, trying to use it as a provisory pillow. You could hear the note in the jacket’s pocket rustling a little as you shifted, bringing Negan back into your mind even though he’d never really left it. Your throat started to tighten, along with your ribcage that allowed it to spread tension over you that began to seep inside, turning into agony that crawled up your whole body. And now that you were alone, now that everything was quiet around you, the bubble of shock and denial finally bursted, from one moment to another. Tears shot into your eyes as you breath grew heavier and your body started to tremble while your mind got tortured all over again, now as the full truth started to reveal itself and you couldn’t deny what had happened anymore. Negan had exiled you from his life. Just like that. And he’d known it. He’d known how much it had taken you to build trust up and let people in, he’d known how afraid you were of being abandoned or of losing someone else you loved. And he’d still left you while you were sleeping, only leaving this shitty note behind and the only clear question you could form right now was asking for the “why”? Had you really just surmised everything about him? From his feelings for you to everything that made your whole relationship up? Had he really felt different last night and this whole thing had just been an act? Fuck, but he’d told you so much about himself, too much for it all to just be an superficial act, he’d told you basically his whole past and his regrets, he wouldn’t have done this if he hadn’t felt safe with you as well, right? There was this small part in you that tried to soothe your pain and told you that maybe he had only gotten scared after taking the next step with you. But if he had, why hadn’t he talked to you the same way you had talked about everything else, leaving you completely was just too extreme. This all just didn’t match. And with that, the devil on your shoulder started to whisper its painful remarks into your ear, turning all your thoughts even more toxic than they already were. Maybe he have had some feelings for you but the kisses had made him realize after all that you just weren’t it for him. Maybe you’d been completely deceived by him and had seen someone else in him than he actually was. He had to be, somehow at least. The Negan you’d known wouldn’t have left you like this, especially with the consequence that you would never see him again, not after all these months together, not after growing so close. But he had left, he had run away, he had exiled you from his life and he forced you to live with his decision, without any clear answers. Your thoughts were eating into you, tearing you up from the inside while hot tears started to roll down your cheeks, first silently before your small whimpers grew into sobs. Had you done something wrong? Had you repelled him? Were you really that unlovable that he felt like you didn’t even deserve to know why he didn’t want to be with you anymore? Was there something so wrong about you that made him suddenly not want you in his life anymore? Why the fuck had he left you? You were muffling your sobs, hoping that no one would hear you while more and more pain travelled through your body and kept you in a bubble of agony. You couldn’t control your head anymore, it felt like your thoughts were stuck in a storm that raged through your head, strong enough to let you grow dizzy and make you feel like the tent was spinning around you. You tried your best to focus on one spot of its roof, keep you from losing control completely while the spinning got stronger, amplifying the nausea the pain had already elicited. Your heart was hammering in your chest, so loudly that you felt like you could hear it while the nausea started to turn your stomach upside down. The pictures of Negan in your head stared to mix with the ones of your dead friends, of the blood on the forest ground and the metallic scent of it that reeked of death before your body took over and made you rush out of the tent. In the very last second you fell to your knees and felt your ribcage tightening as the bile and the very last bit of your stomach content pushed up your throat and spewed out of your mouth. The bile was biting into the skin of your lips and made you tear up even more while the nausea kept clawing onto your throat until you hung violently shaking over the ground, bile and saliva dripping out of your mouth as your stomach finally stopped to contract. You whimpered, only glad about the fact that no one seemed to have heard you before you forced yourself to slowly move back into the tent, still crying as you got your mouth clean and drunk the very last bit of your water to get the awful taste out of your mouth that would surely have let you throw up again. You ended up sitting in the tent, hugging your legs while the tears didn’t stop falling down your face, making you feel like the pain would never stop coming. You had lost the most important person in your life, and it wasn’t just about the fact that you’d lost the person you’d fallen in love with, you’d lost your best friend too. And maybe, you thought, maybe there would have been a way for you to prevent it, or at least avoid yourself from ending up without answers, making up scenarios in your head that didn’t help you at all but just existed to further torture you. You should have stayed awake when you’d woken up last night, you should have asked further what had actually been wrong with him, maybe you wouldn’t be in this situation now if you had. Maybe. Everything was just a fucking maybe. You would never get clear answers. You would never see Negan again. And you wondered if you would ever be able to cope with that. It didn’t get better after this night, not much at least. Time alone couldn’t heal all wounds, and the vast difference between your previous life and the one Negan forced you to continue now made it only more difficult for you to cope. You were going from sleeping wrapped up in strong arms that made you feel safe and cozy to sleeping completely alone, left to fight your nightmares on your own, left to overthink each night about what you’d done wrong, what could be so unlovable about you that you’d be abandoned. You were going from joking around and walking laughing through the woods to bringing up the caboose, walking silently behind the others when you made your way through forests and fields. You were going from growing comfortable around people to becoming hostile and mistrusting of every act someone else did around you, of everything someone said and asked you. You were growing numb and more sensitive at the very same time. And most obviously, you were going from living back to purely surviving. Back when Negan was around, you had finally felt like you were living again, and now, you were only surviving from one day to another. You were letting the hours pass from dawn until the moon was shining on the firmament and the whole process repeated itself. You were in your own bubble. Surviving, but that was it. Your hunger for answers kept you up most of the nights, now less than in the beginning, but still enough to hurt you. Sometimes you’d hoped to run into him, find exactly these answers to what had made him leave so you could find your peace, other times you hoped you would never have to see his face again and be reminded of the fact of how much he had deceived you. The latter lost most of the times, even if you had struggles to admit that. But the facts spoke a different language: You still flinched when you saw a walker that had his height, stature and mere bodily resemblances, and even though there was a part in you that knew that Negan was someone who would survive almost everything, you had this urge to kill them each time and check that it truly wasn’t him. You still had the note. There were countless times you had wanted to toss it into the flames and see it turn into ashes, but you’d never managed too. You weren’t looking at it as often as in the beginning, trying to figure out what he’d meant or what he’d blacked out, but it still rested in your jacket’s pocket, as your eternal companion. You wished you could free yourself from all of this, wished you could trust, wished you could be open to others, but with leaving, with exiling you from his life from one moment to another, Negan had taken that from you. And there was a part of you that hated him for it more than you were able to put in words. Oddly enough there was this other part in you, this weird tiny part that still felt for him, or rather the image you’ve had of him. He hadn’t been who you thought he was, he hadn’t left if you’d been right about him, but there was this part that no matter how hard you tried, couldn’t comprehend that. There was this part that refused to believe that you were such a bad judge of character. And so, with all these contradictory thoughts and feelings raging through you, with the missing answers that wouldn’t allow your mind to get the peace it desperately needed, you couldn’t get over it, no matter how much you tried, you couldn’t heal and move on from what he’d done to you and you hated it.

You lost more people over the coming months. Others joined here and there while you had to watch others being torn apart until you were the only survivor left of the original group, now surrounded by those who had joined far after Negan had left. You closed yourself more and more off over time, those who still knew you before he left died, and those who joined never got to see more of you than they needed to accept you as a member of the group. You didn’t allow more. There was this part of your brain that had restructured itself, leading you to believe that when the person you’d been so incredibly close to over months was able to abandon you from one moment to another, there was no way you could trust anyone else to not leave you. Moreover, you didn’t trust yourself anymore to judge who had good intentions and who hadn’t, not after you had been so awfully wrong about Negan. And so you were still lonely, even with all these people around you. But being lonely was less painful than having to live with the agony of possibly being abandoned again. It had to be a little over a half year after Negan left when you found yourself sitting on a tree trunk in the woods, watching the campfire while you slung your winter coat tighter around your body, trying to keep yourself warm. You watched two of the other, newer members sitting on the other side, Sarah and Donna who were giggling as they chatted about some story while some of the others were either guarding the camp-side, slept or prepared some food for the coming days. This casual chatting, the laughing at campfires was another thing that wasn’t part of your life anymore, the fear in you to reveal too much to be able to get hurt again was just too much of a risk and you honestly envied those who were able to take it, or who still didn’t see these type of interactions as a risk at all. The only times you loosened a bit up was when the group found some booze that lowered your inhibitions a little and pushed you to be more talkative than you allowed yourself to be any other time, but that was pretty much it. You honestly hated who you had become, a shell of a person who had let her fears started to rule her life, forcing her to become a loner, suspicious of everything and everyone. You wished for something that would give you the chance to turn it all back around, but with each passing day, the probability that you’d ever get this opportunity slimmed more and more. Letting out a shivering breath you tried to move a little closer to the fire, hoping it would get to warm you up some more right before you heard a loud rustling within the underwood and heard Jake’s voice sounding tensely through the night. ”One step further and you’re dead”, he called out, letting you nearly instinctively jump to your feet and look at the other side of the small camp, see him pointing his gun at a small group that was nearly standing in the darkness, with their hands raised while the rest of your group started to draw their weapons and step closer to the possible threat. ”Hold on, hold on”, you could hear one of them say while you stepped closer, your hand wrapped around the handle of your knife as you first saw the man who was standing in front of four others, three men and one woman. A smile was laying on his lips, a dark mustache only intensifying it while he cleared his throat, though still holding a handgun in his raised hands. ”We’re here with some good news.” ”Drop the weapons first”, Jake called out, still pointing his gun at the group,”I mean it.” ”Alright, friend”, the man said, nodding to the others before they slowly lowered their hands and dropped their weapons as your eyes swayed over them, trying to find out whether they were still a treat or if they were simply searching for a group to join in. They had watched your camp-side before for sure, that pretty much was the unwritten 1st rule before approaching others and they must’ve been aware that your group was too big for them to take over on their own. ”We got a big settlement nearby, a factory”, one of the other man, slimmer than the one who had talked until now stepped forwards, careful to not alert you. Your attention peaked up, your instincts immediately trying to figure out if he was being truthful ,”And we’re searching for new people to join, expand our forces.” ”People are the biggest resource we have”, the other one added quickly, nodding towards your group, all while the gun was still pointed at him, though he surprisingly didn’t seem to be all too bothered by it ,”We’re trying to use that.” You looked at them a little closer, stepping a few steps towards them through your group to see them a bit clearer in the light the campfire was throwing at them. They seemed to be well kept, their clothes were only slightly dirty from walking through the woods, but compared to yours they were pretty clean. ”You got proof?”, it sounded out of your group through the night, while the two men in the front quickly nodded. ”Sure”, the slimmer one said, gulping slightly as he glanced at the gun, “I have pictures in my backpack, I’m gonna take it off and toss it towards you, alright?” “Alright”, Jake nodded, while the man took the backpack slowly off, repeatedly eyeing the gun while he was doing so before he carefully tossed it forward. You could see another one of your group, Daniel, reaching down to grab the backpack before he took a few steps back, ending up by your side as he opened it and revealed the pictures that laid on top of a couple cans of food and a cramped up jacket. “If these are fake, you’ll die”, You could hear one of the others say as Daniel fished the polaroid photos out of the backpack, while you tried to get a glimpse at them, curious even though you were still suspicious of them, just like everyone else. “Then we got nothing to fear, they’re real, as real as your chance for a better life.” Daniel started to slowly flip through them, give you and the ones who stood close enough to see them a chance to catch what was displayed on them and it seemed more than promising, almost too good to be true. There definitely was a factory on them, a compound with one giant building and smaller ones attached to it and here and there you could see some people displayed on them. working on the fence that seemed to surround it or walking from one spot to another. There were some pictures from inside too and these were the ones that actually impressed you and nearly made you hold your breath for a moment. There was a big hall of one of them, the photo shot from some kind of high platform to capture the countless people inside of it and the booths they were standing at, probably for food and other supplies. Other pictures showed rooms inside of the building, “We have a new leader for a few weeks now, he’s trying to build this place further up. You got the pics of the apartments now, right? We keep on transforming more and more rooms into those”, the man with the mustache said, pointing towards the photo Daniel had on top right now and you could feel yourself drawn to them, though a large proportion of your mind was still on alert. Having your own bed, being able to shower whenever you wanted, not being scared of not finding enough food anymore, god that sounded almost too good to be true. ”I know how it is to live outside, fight for survival. It’s easier together as a community”, the man added, letting you look up from the photos for another moment before he flashed another grin. ”I’m Simon by the way”, he said before he nodded towards the slimmer man beside him,”This here’s Gavin and-” He turned a little around before pointing to the others, one by one. ”These guys are DJ, Arat and Gary.” You watched them nod before you glanced back at the photos, while you could hear Jake asking them some more questions, testing them a little while you could actually feel a little hope within you rising that this place could actually be something that would give all of you a little brighter future. Your mind was still wrestling with the devil on your shoulder, that was whispering in your ear that you shouldn’t trust your judgement anymore, not after what had happened, while another part of you genuinely hoped that maybe, maybe this could be at least a little bit of a new beginning for you. And what did you have to lose? ”So what do you fine folks say?”

It took a bit of discussing, more questioning and weighing your options until your group eventually agreed to give Simon’s community a try, dismantled your camp and finally followed them through the woods, still alert. Simon kept talking about the place they called the Sanctuary and about the opportunities you’d get as new part of the Saviors as they called themselves. It would’ve sounded a little odd to you if you hadn’t heard all the other weird name groups and communities were giving themselves since the world had gone to shit. Compared to those, the Savior’s Sanctuary almost sounded normal. You finally reached a large truck that was parked at the side of the road, with just enough space to fit all of you into its inside. You were still constantly checking your surroundings, maybe even trying to find something that could make you mistrustful of them but the truck seemed more than fine, just filled with wood benches at either side, and with some blankets and water placed into a box in one of its corners. You settled down onto a spot on the bench next to the others rather in the back of the truck, placing your backpack between your legs while the truck already started to slowly move back onto the road, jerking a little as you got ready for a long drive to what could become your new home.

The sun was already shining brightly when you heard that you were halfway at the Sanctuary, could see Simon moving through the truck as he talked here and there about the rest of the drive to the community. He was steady on his feet before he reached the seat in the front, bracing himself against it before he reached toward’s DJ who sat in the passenger seat, and patted his shoulder roughly. He chuckled, a wide grin plastered on his face that even you could see from your spot in the back before his voice echoed through the truck and let your blood freeze the moment you heard what he was saying. “Negan’s gonna like ‘em”, he proudly called out towards DJ, and the moment his name left Simon’s lips you could feel your body flinching, could feel boiling heat and icy coldness washing over your back within milliseconds while your breath got stuck in your throat. You stared wide eyed at the mustached man in the front, unable to move, unable to say something while thousands of thoughts started to crush in on you before you heard Jake raising his voice quickly. “Who’s that?” “The big man, our boss”, Simon chuckled, grinning back as he leaned himself against the seat and while you could Jake answering with an “okay”, you were already drifting away. This couldn’t be him, right? Negan was a name you hadn’t heard before the world went to shit but that didn’t mean that he was the only one with this name. It could be someone else, right? You could feel your palms starting to grow sweaty, could feel your body starting to tremble while you gripped your fingers into your thighs, hoping that the sensation would help you get yourself under control and sort your thoughts. Negan had always been the leader type, the of man who was able to be the alpha of a group but this didn’t automatically mean that he was the leader of this group. When he’d run from you, he’d probably run as far as possible to not be in risk to run into your group again and that was likely much further than you had travelled by now. This didn’t have to be him. This could be another, completely different man. This didn’t have to be him. You were repeating this, over and over again in your head, until you had yourself fairly under control, though you feared that the others would notice how frozen, yet trembling you were sitting next to them, forcing yourself to stare at a spot on the wooden floor, to fixate it and give your head the opportunity to repeat these sentences over and over again until you felt like you had convinced yourself. And still, regardless how much you tried to suppress it, the possibility that it was actually your Negan was there, and you didn’t know how to handle it. You sat like glued to the bench, hearing and seeing everything else around you in a blur until you felt the truck stop underneath you indefinitely. ”Alrighty folks, we’re there!”, Simon called out, grinning widely as you first snapped out of your trance-like state and could feel your group members starting to stand up around you, waiting for the man in the front to lead them outside. You pushed yourself to stand up too, feeling how wobbly your legs felt while an uncomfortable nausea was settling in your stomach no matter how hard you tried to keep on repeating those sentences in your head. Shivering breaths fell from your lips while you exited the truck, holding tightly onto your backpack finding yourself in the courtyard of the large factory. “Welcome to the Sanctuary”, Simon called out, strutting with open arms towards the large metallic entrance, more than ready to show you your new potential home. You had a hard time taking in what was happening around you, nearly unconsciously strolled into the large building behind the others, trying to keep your attention for your surrounding up as much as you could while you entered the large hall you’d already seen on the pictures, filled with bustling people. “As I said, the boss is still restructuring things but this is our grand hall!”, Simon chuckled as he spread his arms out again, turning around to the group for the moment as he kept on talking,”We got all kinds of things here, food, clothes, shit we even recently got a barber! And we’re building more up, maybe some of y’all get to open up your booth here. Behind this we got the sleeping places for the newbies until everything’s figured out and they get their rooms.” If you hadn’t heard Negan’s name earlier, you’d walk amazed through the hall, would stare at the uncountable booths and the people that were as many as you hadn’t seen for the longest time. But instead, you felt numb and panicked at the same time, stuck in a bubble and hoping that you’d be able to let it break as soon as possible to return back to reality and pay attention to what was truly important right now. ”We’ll get ya’ll some food as soon as possible, but for now, you’ll get to set up your camp over here”, Simon finally said after you’d made yourself through the uncountable food booths that would have made your mouth water if you weren’t so busy with your thoughts and had ended up on the other end of the call, in its edge where cots with some blankets were set up, surrounded by some sheets that were hung onto cloths-lines to separate each little camp from one another. You were nearly drifting back into your little trance as you looked around the cots, glad that you were standing in the back of your group so no one paid attention to your absent behavior while you cursed yourself for not being able to just push these thoughts into the back of your head. You could hear Simon talk some more before he suddenly silenced, letting you first look up again to glimpse past the the others in front of you, only to feel how you froze in your spot as soon as you heard another, way too familiar voice boom through the air. “Well shit, now would you look at that!” It was him. His voice. His laugh. It was him. “Some newbies!”, you could hear him say while you still stood like glued to the cement ground on your spot, with widened eyes and shaking legs while his voice let shiver after shiver run down your spine,”Glad to get some more saviors into our ranks.” This had to be another one of your nightmares. This couldn’t be real. What were the odds that you’d see him again under these circumstances? It took just another moment before you saw him standing next to Simon, the man you hadn’t thought you’d ever see again. He looked nearly the very same as you remembered him. A wide smirk was plastered over his handsome face, a salt and pepper beard that was a little shorter than when you’d last seen him was caressing his jaw, his hazel eyes were beaming with a roguish glance, his black hair wasn’t just combed back as it often had been during his time in the group but instead slicked back with some gel, the familiar leather jacket was covering his torso and his beloved bat was laying on his shoulder while his fingers tapped on its handle. You were growing dizzy, could feel your ribcage tightening enough to seemingly press all air out of your lungs while you didn’t know what to think, didn’t know what to do as you stared at him while your body got so overwhelmed with thoughts and feelings that an emptiness started to settle in you, keeping you in a state of shock. “Hi, I’m Negan”, his deep voice vibrated through you, spreading goosebumps all over your body as his glance started to sway over the group, taking a look at each new person that was about to join his community before the unavoidable moment came and his eyes landed on you. From one second to another, his face dropped, the grin literally falling from it as he stared at you if as if you were a mirage. His brows tensed in the next moment and you could tell that he was trying to figure out if he wasn’t just imagining this while horror spread over his features. It took a few more seconds for him to realize that the whole group was watching him and his sudden change in behavior before he put the grin back on his face, playing down the obvious bewilderment that was still stuck in his eyes before he nodded towards Simon. “Simon, show our newcomers around, will ya? All other shit can be handled later”, he grinned once more into the group, through purposely avoiding your glance as Simon nodded. “Sure, boss.” “Good. Welcome to the Sanctuary”, Negan just said, before he already started to turn on his heels, and rushed into the opposite direction, disappearing quickly in another hallway that lead away from the grand hall.

Simon took you on a little tour in the following two hours, giving you some more info about the place and making sure you had what you needed for now until you found yourself back at your little camp, sitting on one of the cots while your head was still torturing you with thoughts. You could tell that the others had noticed the way Negan had reacted, that they knew that there was a reason why he’d changed after seeing you, and Jake and Sarah, who were sitting with you by the cots and kept glancing at you were the living proof for it. “Do you know him? Negan?”, Jake finally spoke up, still letting you glance up with wide eyes at him while he let out a small chuckle,”C’mon I saw his face when he saw you.” You gulped, fumbling on the end of your jacket before a tight breath fell from your lips. “Yeah”, you eventually nodded, sure of the fact that there was no way around this, at least not without giving them any information. “He uhm...he was in our group a long while ago”,you mumbled, watching as Sarah looked wide eyed at you, full of curiosity and most likely excited to finally unlock part of your past you’d kept locked up from all of them,”We got split up.” Technically, that was true. Not by groups of walkers or other threatening survivors, as they likely assumed, but you did get split up by his choice. Part of you wanted to tell the truth, let some anger that was still seething within you seep out but another, bigger part was holding it back, enough for you to keep a cool head, for now. Even if Negan was the leader of this place, it seemed like a good one. Food, shelter, protection. They had all been out there for long, they deserved a place to rest. Everything else would show itself by time, but for now, you didn’t blindly want to rob them of these things because of your personal vendetta. ”He looked like he saw a ghost”, Jake chuckled, stroking some of his dark hair out of his face while a happy giggle fell from Sarah’s lips. ”Well, it doesn’t happen all too often that you can reunite with people”,she said, the excitement clearly audible in her voice,”You must be glad to see him again, huh?” God, if she only knew. ”Hey, you”, you heard a voice behind you say, letting you quickly turn around as you looked up at an unknown man who stared down at you,”It’s (Y/N), right?” ”Yeah”, you nodded, glimpsing a little irritatedly at him before he cleared his throat slightly, only to shove you into another sea of tension and nervousness as soon as he raised his voice again. ”The boss wants to see you, now”, he said, not leaving you, the tone of his voice urging ,”I’ll get you to his apartment.” It wasn’t phrased like a question, clearly, it was a command that somehow rubbed you the wrong way while another part of you still tried to grasp what this actually meant. You would see Negan again. You might get answers to your questions. You gulped thickly, first becoming aware of the fact that three sets of eyes were staring at you and if you would take longer, it would only become more. An urge in you that was barely conscious urged you to nod and get up on your feet, without even thinking much further, though the tension within you started to become overwhelming. You still hadn’t processed all of this and now more and more was being thrown at you, leaving you to make your decision solely based on the few things that had always been clear to you; you wanted answers and you wanted to give vent to the anger and all the other emotions that had been seething in you for so long. Those two things were the only ones that let this urge win against the obvious fear that was streaming stronger and stronger through your body. “Go get your reunion!”, you heard Sarah say happily, smiling widely at you as you glanced back at her and forced a faked smile onto your lips, trying to cover up how you really felt before you were lead into the labyrinth of hallways by the Savior. The walk through the Sanctuary along the other man was awkward and it only let the odd nervousness within you rise. You could tell by his glances that he was curious to know why his Boss had asked for you, but he kept his mouth shut nevertheless, letting you walk beside him in silence, allowing your thoughts to full on torture you. They were buzzing through your head like a swarm of angry bees as you started to make your way up the long staircase, each step giving you more of a feeling of nausea as you knew that each one of them made you get closer to him. There were thousands of scenarios whirling through your head, scenarios of what he’d say to you, scenarios of how you would react as soon as you would step into his apartment. Would he ask you to leave? Or to keep your mouth shut to not scare away anybody else? What would he actually be like? You’d clearly been deceived in him when you’d still been together. He hadn’t been the person you had though he was. So how would he present himself now? And how the hell would you present yourself? Would you freeze again as soon as you’d see his awfully familiar face? Would the rage within you finally boil over for good? You were nearly growing dizzy just trying to comprehend all these thoughts, trying to shove them back and distract yourself with the view of the barely enlightened staircases, with the sound your shoes were producing each time they met the concrete and with your heavier growing breath. “Almost there”, the man beside you finally spoke up as you could see the end of the staircase coming closer, could see some light streaming through the small window of the heavy industrial door that lead to the very last floor. If the urge for answers to all the questions that were torturing you since he had left wouldn’t have been so strong, you were sure that your body would’ve urged you to turn on your heels and run, relieve you from the painful tension that was starting to eat you up from inside. The last steps were the hardest, physically and mentally it felt as if you were wearing shoes made of concrete, dragging you down each time you wanted to take the next step up until you found yourself on the small and very last platform. It felt surreal, almost as if you were a figure in a video game, not controlled by yourself but some other force you didn’t have any control over as you finally stepped through the heavy metal door and found yourself in yet another hallway. It looked a little different than the others, ironically more welcoming, with softer and warmer light than the previous ones. You could feel the nausea within you rise, fueled by the fear, anger and skepticism of what was waiting for you while the man beside you kept walking past some other doors that were plastered along the sides of the hallway until you stood in front of heavy, dark two winged wooden doors. If you weren’t so tense, you would’ve probably laughed to yourself about the ridiculously of these lavish doors in a literal factory building, that oddly enough felt like they fit to the Negan you had known. “Here we are”, the man mumbled, catapulting you back into reality as you felt your heart skipping a beat as he reached for the handle and slowly opened the door and you started to feel your emotions pounding against the wall within you that had kept them in control until now, destroying it more with each passing second. “Don’t be so shy, step in”, you heard him grumble beside you, letting you realize that you’d stared at the slightly opened door until now, not moving an inch. You slowly nodded, trying to straighten your shoulders and look as confident as you were able to right now, unwilling to show the man behind those doors how broken he’d still left you. “Sure”, you just said, nodding again before you moved past him, brushing past the heavy doors, the nervousness nearly blurring your view until your eyes suddenly fixed on his face, forcing you to look right into his eyes. He was standing there, just standing there looking wide eyed at you, almost as if he hadn’t expected you to come and slowly but surely, the emotions started to break out of their cage, forcing you to take in your surrounding, forcing you to understand that this situation was real and not just another nightmare. The apartment was as lavish as those doors had already indicated, dark wood everywhere, a large black, four poster bed to your left, yet too much out of your view to catch it entirely, oppositely to the leather couch and the luxurious armchairs he was standing next to, and the coffee table between them that was covered in food, wine, a big bottle of whiskey and a lit up candle that left you speechless and wondering what the fuck this here was. “Hey, Sweetheart-“ “Don’t call me that”, it shot out of your lips as soon as you heard his voice and the awfully familiar nickname that triggered way too many memories at once. Your eyes shot back to him as you could feel the anger within you trumping all other emotions for a moment, pumping you full with adrenaline that unleashed energy you didn’t even know you had anymore. “What the fuck is this”, it slipped in a snapping tone out of your lips as you stared once more at the fully covered table. You felt like this wasn’t even you who was directly talking, it was just the fury that was slipping out of you, more and more and it wasn’t done yet for sure. “I hoped that we could talk”, he said, his tone slightly defeated as he caught your glance, fueling the rage that was streaming within you, the rage that had been held back for way too long. “Now you wanna talk? You sure you don’t wanna leave a little note again and fuck off?” “Okay, I deserve that”, he sighed, so oddly calm that it only made you angrier. He had left you, he had left you while you had been sleeping after you had opened yourself fully up to him and now he was acting as if you were here to have a little casual and friendly chitty chat with him. ”Listen-“ “No, no you listen”,you cut him nearly immediately off, and while your voice was still filled up with anger you could feel the stinging feeling of the bottled up pain start to break through the rage, much to your annoyance ,”Fuck you, fuck you, Negan.” You still sounded angry, but there was a brokenness and a bitterness to it that hadn’t been there before, something that let your lips tremble and your voice vibrate. “You left me”, you snapped, trying your very best to keep the stinging pain that was crushing down on you again in check,”Out of nowhere. You never gave me any warning signs. You asshole made me trust you, you kissed me and then you left me, you just fucked off.” Your breath was getting heavier as you nearly instinctively stepped further into the room, trying to get a closer look of him, trying to see what kind of emotions laid over his face to find out who he actually was. “We spent months together, we talked about every little possible shit, I would’ve trusted you with my damn life and you just left. You fucker let me wonder what the fuck I’d done wrong for you to abandon me out of fucking nowhere after everything we’ve been through”, the pain was sounding clearer through your voice now, regardless of how much you were trying to suppress it, while a cool shudder washed down your back as soon as he stepped closer as well, hurt and guilt plastered over his face that ironically only made you angrier, “And now you bring me up in your little suite and think we can have a chat during some candle lit dinner, are you fucking kidding me?” “Y/N”, he just said, pleading and with a deep sigh as he stepped even closer to you, trying to calm you down but the second he reached you and stepped just a little too close, close enough to touch you your instincts took over again. “No”, you snapped as he tried to reach out to you, swatting away his hand while this mere, millisecond long touch was enough to let the storm of emotions within you rage even wilder,”No!” Negan didn’t try anything else, immediately moving a few steps away from you while you could feel your heart pounding faster against your chest and a lump slowly started to grow in your throat. “Fuck you”,you breathed shakily, trying your best to swallow down that lump that was starting to grow further as the pain started to wash over you once more, slow, stinging and torturous as it brought out the memories of the lonely nights you’d spent crying yourself to sleep,”You got any idea how I felt?” ”You knew of my fears”,it left your lips immediately before you gulped thickly, trying to get rid of the lump,”You fucking knew it...I just came up here because I want answers...nothing else.” “And you’ll get ‘em, I promise”, Negan said, looking at you with those sad puppy eyes that only made you question him, his behavior and everything that was going on around you even more. “You promised to stay too”, it slipped out of your lips, while you still tried to calm yourself down, control the emotions that still tried to turn you into a bigger mess than you already were to find answers to the questions that had been buzzing through your head since the day he’d left. “I know”, he nodded before he gulped thickly and let out a small sigh,”Please let me explain.” He looked at you, almost waiting for an answer before he reached up to scratch his salt and pepper beard, the same way he’d always done it when he’d started to get nervous. “Can we sit down?”, he asked, nodding towards the couch and the armchairs before you slowly started to nod as well, and strolled almost simultaneously with him to the assemble, moving down to sit in one of the comfy armchairs while he let himself fall onto the leather couch. For another moment, you tensed up again, looking at all the food and beverages that were sprawled out over the table, smelling their delicious scent that made your mouth water. It felt obscure to see that much food at once when you’d been happy to find a single can of ravioli just a day ago and it made you feel much more obscure and out of place to sit in the middle of this lavish apartment still dressed in your dirty and ripped clothes. “You can take anything you like. I know you’re hungry”, you heard Negan say, ripping your attention away from the food. “You don’t know shit”, it slipped out of your lips, and while it may have seemed childish, you didn’t want to take anything from him yet and you moreover didn’t feel able to eat now, not with this emotional turmoil keeping your body under its control, “Just start.” “The people you’re here with, does that mean-“ “Yeah”,you responded, gulping thickly as you could feel Negan’s eyes fix on you,”They’re dead..Not at once. More people joined and others died along the way.” “But are they good people? You trust them?”, he kept on asking, and while a part of you understood, another one just felt like he was trying to distract you from the elephant in the room and earn some more time. “Y’know, trusting others wasn’t really my thing after the person I trusted the most left me out of nowhere”, you said, the bitterness in you unable to swallow that remark down before you pulled yourself together once more for the people downstairs. Regardless of what was going on with you and the man across from you, they deserved a chance here. ”But yeah, they’re good people”, you said, letting out a small sigh before you glimpsed back at him, a part of you still unable to process that it was actually him who was sitting there and not just a mirage, part of a nightmare that would let you wake up in cold sweat, “Now stop with the small talk, just start.” Negan nodded, running his hands almost nervously over his thighs before he moved down to rest his elbows on his knees, staring at his hands before he sighed once more. “First off, you didn’t do anything wrong”,he mumbled, glimpsing up for a moment to look at you,”I panicked that night.” You stared at him, not sure on how to react, nor how this would go on, you just looked at him, your body so tense you were almost on edge to hear more while the suspicious part of you was trying to filter his words, make sure you weren’t fooled and hurt again. “I-...fuck”,he stopped himself, struggling for words,”When I woke up in the middle of the damn night I laid awake for so long and those shit ass thoughts started to creep up..I just...I thought I’d be damned to fuck it up, whatever we had there...I thought it would be easier for you if I’d leave now before we’d get even deeper and I’d disappoint you then.” You were at loss of words as you stared at him, still shaking, still tense while you were trying to process what he was saying, if you were supposed to believe him or if this all was hot air. “I know how cliché this sounds but fuck, I never meant to hurt you, I tried to prevent it”, he gulped, snapping you out of your nearly trance-like state as what seemed to be supposed to appease you instead did the opposite. It whirled memories up, way too many, of how much he had hurt you nevertheless, of how much pain he had caused you from the moment you’d discovered that he was gone to this very day. “Worked fantastically”, you scoffed out while your throat started to tighten again, start to push some tears into your eyes nevertheless how hard you tried to suppress them,”You knew how scared I was of being abandoned again.” “I know, I know, and I can’t tell you how sorry I am...the shit I did, my thoughts back then...they were fucking dumb, they weren’t rational”, he responded, shaking his head as another thick gulp travelled down his throat,”I just had that shit with Lucille creeping up again...I just-” He let out a deep sigh, looking down to his feet for a moment before he slowly glimpsed back up at you. “I knew you deserved better in the end, much fucking better than my old ass”, he started again, his glance nervously bouncing around the room before it landed back on you,”After that kiss I got scared, ain’t gonna lie to you. I got pants crapping scared. Those damn kisses meant we were going further and I just....” There was this feeling within you that he was being genuine, that he was telling the truth. The way his eyes shifted, the way his jaw clenched and the way he sat and fumbled on his hands, you had seen those things before on him. You’d seen this nervousness when head first talked to you about Lucille and his regrets, and there was something about the way he looked right now that was too raw to be acted. You were suspicious enough of your own judgement since he’d left, but you couldn’t deny that he seemed to tell the truth. But if he was, if he was actually being genuine, what he was saying there threw you off nevertheless. “We were already deep in. Not physically but you knew everything about me, emotionally we were already nearly as far as you can go”, it slipped out of your lips while you were still trying to process what he had been just saying there. You’ve had so many concepts in your head as to why he had left and this was it? It was not as hurtful as finding out that he had full on rejected you or played games with your feelings when he hadn’t been feeling the same would have been, but it was frustrating. It seemed avoidable. It seemed like all this pain, all these sleepless and tears filled nights could have been avoided if he had just done what you’d both been doing when you’d been distressed. But instead of doing so he’d done exactly what he knew was one of your greatest fears. “You could’ve just talked to me. We always did that”, it slipped out of your lips while you could feel the tension starting to let your body shake again, not visibly but enough to cause you even more discomfort as you were thinking back to this one night,”I was even already awake...and even when I was back asleep, you-” “I know...It was a knee jerk reaction”, he quickly said, his voice desperate as he kept your glance glued to his,”And I regretted it. I did. I packed things so fast, wrote you that shitty note and just ran like fucking coward.” He gulped thickly, scratching his salt and pepper stubble nervously before he looked back up. “But I’m not lying to you when I said that I got my head clear a couple hours later. And regretted leaving, so goddamn bad”, he said, only intensifying the suspense, frustration and even confusion within you,“I still don’t think that I deserved you but shit, it should’ve been different and my fear of fucking shit up made me fuck us up...I got back to the camp, I did, to apologize and work things out but-“ Your heart skipped a beat as you heard him hear those words, unable to get what he was saying there before he went on. “I just saw them laying there. Joanne, Thom...and I searched the whole damn camp for you, I swear, and when I saw that you weren’t among the goddamn dead and your stuff was gone I kept searching for you...for weeks” Nausea was flooding your body again, turning your stomach upside down as you stared in disbelief at him. What he was saying there was changing everything he had said before, everything you had assumed before. He had come back. And he wasn’t lying. If he hadn’t, there was no way of knowing who had died at this clearing, nor that this walker attack had even happened. “I think after two weeks I found this little cabin by a lake...found that weird scarf thing that Janice always wore”,he mumbled, only pushing you deeper into the chaos that was raging through your head,”Thought I’d finally found a lead but it was the last damn trace of you that I ever found.” You were speechless, unable to even get a single sound out. He was saying the truth, even about searching for you. You had been at this cabin, a little over a week after Negan had left. You had stayed there for a night only, just to discover in the morning that another large group of walkers was approaching. Still scarred from the events earlier, you’d all taken off as fast as you could, never coming back only to discover later that Janet had left her beloved cloth behind. She really did have this big scarf that she has used as poncho or even blanket during colder days that was covered with odd patterns that made your eyes hurt when you looked at it for a little too long, but she’d loved that thing and you could remember lively how heartbroken she’d been when she discovered that she’d left it behind in the hurry you’d been in. So Negan had really been going after you, he hadn’t just returned to the camp and just left it for good when he’d seen that you were gone, he had kept searching for you. This was changing so much, if not everything and you didn’t know how you were supposed to feel about this. “Probably went into he wrong directions for weeks after that”, Negan’s voice ripped you out of your thoughts back into reality, though the man in front of you and his words still appeared in a blur,“And then I met another group and shit, at that point I thought you didn’t wanna see me anymore anyway...So I followed them and ended up here....I always kept looking for you though.” You stared at him, watching his expression saddening further as he sighed deeply. “I’m sorry”, he said, a shivering breath falling from his lips,”I’m so sorry, I really am. We had something great there and I fucked it up, I hurt you and I can’t tell you how much I hate my damn asshole self for that shit.” You still couldn’t get a single word out. Everything seemed to fall to pieces and you had problems reattaching these pieces into this new story that completely messed with all the possible ones that had controlled your head during the last months. He had left you when you’d told him about your fears nevertheless, but he’d been panicked, hadn’t thought clearly and moreover had come back and searched for weeks for you, following every lead he could get. You just didn’t know how to handle this all at once. “I just...I don’t know what to think anymore”, it finally slipped out of your lips while your glance wandered off him, blurring further as your mind was too focused to try and get your thoughts and feelings under control. “It’s okay”, you heard Negan say, watching him clenching his jaw tensely from the corner of your eyes. “Again, I can’t tell you how sorry I am”, he sighed, playing with his fingers while you could feel his eyes on you,”I always hoped I’d get to see you again but fuck, another damn part of me, regardless how much that crap hurt just hoped that you’d become happy and forget about me. You deserved to move on after the shit I pulled.” “I never did”, it almost immediately left your lips, almost automatic while a stinging pain rushed once more through your body, the same you’d felt each time you’d stared at his note by the campfire that was right now, still resting in your jacket’s pocket,”I never forgot you.” It got silent for another moment while you could feel the lump growing in your throat again, could feel the tingling in your nose that was a harbinger for the tears that tried to rise into your eyes. “I never knew you went back”,you gulped, struggling for words as your blurred glance stared at the fuzzy, lavish carpet below your dirty boots,”I don’t know if I’m supposed to feel different now, I just-“ You got cut off by the growing lump that made it hard for you to speak by now and felt the intensifying torture your mind was pushing onto you, enough to let the room start spinning around you, let the dark painted walls around you come closer as if they were about to crush you to death. “I need some fresh air”, you chocked out, gripping the soft edges of the armchair’s sides to push you onto your feet, not fully trusting your body to do it without the support right now. “There’s a platform at the end of the hallway”, Negan almost worriedly said and you could see him sitting up, could tell that he was seeing what was happening to your body. “Okay”, you just said, nodding almost absently and before you could realize anything more, you found yourself stemming the heavy wooden doors open and rushing back through the hallway until you reached the metal door that lead to the platform he’d mentioned. You were shaking heavily when you finally wrapped your fingers around the handle and pushed the door open, moving onto the platform before you propped yourself against the metallic railing, gripping its bars tightly. You stared out into the vastness, over the endless seeming forest while your heart pounded up your throat and your legs turned into jelly. You could feel the lump in your throat growing bigger before the first tears started to roll down your face and shivering breaths fell from your legs. What the fuck were you supposed to do now? All this pain, all this helplessness and loneliness from the past months was washing up again, keeping you from being able to think clearly. “Fuck”, you cursed to yourself, trying to wipe the tears from your cheeks while you had no clue what you were supposed to feel now. His confession turned everything upside down. You just stood shivering there, so overwhelmed by everything that you couldn’t really think or do anything else. Tears kept falling down your face while your shivering breaths filled the air for what felt like an eternity until you had calmed yourself a little down and stared into the sky. You had to go back in to him at some point, even though you had no damn clue what to do or say to him. You felt frustrated and relieved at the same time, hurt and glad at the same time, felt like running away and towards him at the same time. And the only way to know what you’d truly do or find out what the dominant emotion was, was to go back and face him. It took you a few more minutes until you felt just ready enough to peel you away from the railing and move back inside, step by step while your whole body tightened and tensed with every bit you got back closer to him. Finally, you stood in front of the large doors once more, could feel yourself starting to reach for its handle, trying to prepare yourself as you started to open it and slowly moved back inside. You glimpsed up the moment you heard the door crush back into its lock and saw Negan staring at you, slowly standing up from his spot on the couch, a look of uncertainty covering his face. You could feel the lump in your throat growing back as you were urged to look at him, feel all these emotions crushing with all their force back onto you, releasing all what you had suppressed before once more. Tears shot back into your eyes regardless of how much you tried to suppress them, forcing the pictures of your lonely self back into your head, of the way you’d closed yourself off and stayed on your own, too scared to trust. “You know that I kept pushing everybody away after you left, because I didn’t trust myself around people anymore?”, it suddenly slipped out of your trembling lips as you moved forwards, tears falling down your cheeks as Negan’s face twisted in guilt,”Because I thought I’d been so wrong about you?” He stepped a little closer while your lips trembled and more tears kept coming, elicited by the memories that popped back up, over and over again. “I’ve been so lonely these past months, because-”, your voice hushed, forced by the lump as you sniffled and felt yourself breaking out in tears, desperately trying to get yourself back under control. “I-”, you heard Negan say, cutting himself off, at loss of words as he moved towards you, slow and carefully until you could see him right in front of you. What happened next was more of a blur as he reached out towards you with one hand, careful and half expecting for you to swat it away again but instead, you let him, a part of you just craving to not feel lost anymore. His fingers met your arm, his palms curling softly around it and his touch made a shiver run down your spine, so comfortable even though it should have been chilling. Slowly, Negan started to pull you towards him, starting to cautiously wrap his arms around you and pull you into his embrace. You shivered more for a moment, confused by the touch that felt familiar and foreign at the same time. This was your very first hug after he’d left and his scent and his warmth felt overwhelming and you felt more than ever how much you had missed to feel the touch of someone. And still, exactly this touch let everything break more out of you and let the whimpers turn into sobs, finally releasing all this tension and pain that you’d bottled up. “I’m sorry”, you could hear Negan mumble into your hair as he tightened his embrace around you slowly, letting you lay your head into the curve of his neck and nearly feel how hard his heart was pounding in his chest,”I’m so sorry.” His voice was filled to the rim with emotions too, so much that it sounded like he was on the edge of crying too and you could barely get what you were doing right now. Just an hour ago you would have attempted to rip his head off if he’d just tried to hold you and now you laid shivering and sobbing against him, wrapped up in his arms, with your nose nuzzled into his warm neck. It didn’t mean that you were forgiving and forgetting everything, you had problems getting over the fact that you were letting him so close in again and risked that he could hurt you again, but after being lonely for so long, you couldn’t describe how much you craved this and felt like you needed to use this as a valve to let everything out once for all. “I missed you, so so fucking much”, you heard him mutter into your hair, and the sound in his voice actually pushed you to believe him. There was still an seething anger within you, and it wouldn’t just leave, not after your thoughts and pain had fed into it for months, but you just wanted to try and look at the fact that he had made a mistake but had tried everything to change it and find you. Maybe he really had been who you always thought he was. He’d just been scared. He didn’t say anything more for a while, just held you while you sobbed into him until your exhaustion forced you to turn the sobs back into small whimpers, and lay trembling against his tall figure. Negan slowly moved his hands up, one first reaching up to caress his thumb over the side of your face before both gently grabbed you and moved you out of the curve of his neck to look at him. His thumbs were brushing over your cheeks, trying to get the wetness softly off of them while you could see the tears shimmering in his eyes as well. “I’m so fucking sorry”, he mumbled again, while his touch made it feel like your heart skipped a beat again and you tried to push all the scenarios you’d assumed about him over the last time out of your head to take in the reality. “Can we sit down and talk again? A little more?”, Negan gulped, a fear whirling through his glance that you’d rarely seen so clearly in him. You slowly started to nod, just following your instincts for now while you tried to shut down your head for a little. Relief spread over Negan’s face, though he still stayed tense as his hands fell from your face and instead, one of them started to reach of your hand, first brushing in a testing way against yours before he grasped it carefully. You let him, not retracting it this time and allowed him to lead you over to the couch, sit down into the soft, black leather after him while his hand stayed wrapped around yours. “I wished I could turn back time. I can’t, but I wish so fucking much that I could”, he started, running his free hand over his face before he glimpsed back at you and gulped thickly. “Leaving was one of the biggest mistakes I’ve made in my damn life, if not the biggest of ‘em all”, he mumbled, trying to hold your glance ,”I know I can’t make it up to you but if you let me, I’ll do my fucking best to get close to it.” You looked at him, still feeling the warmth of his hand as his hazel eyes glimpsed at you and you could feel yourself starting to nod, longing to finally find peace and happiness again, though there was still something in you making sure that you didn’t risk too much and got hurt again, though everything made you assume that he meant it. “I just-”,you started, looking at your intertwined hands for a moment before you gulped thickly,”I need to process this first...just do it all slowly.” “Of course”, Negan nodded, his voice calm, soothing and most importantly genuine, ”Take as much time as you need.” It got quiet for a moment as you sat there with him on the couch, a part of you still not realizing that this was actually happening. You could feel Negan’s thumb starting to slowly brush over your skin in a soothing and yet still cautious manner, trying to show you some affection and give you the space you needed at the same time. “Y’know wanna make something out of this place, I haven’t been on fucking top for long, there’s still so much to change”, he eventually started, clearing his throat a little as his glance caught yours again ,”I...I wanna change this into one of these places we used to talk about and fuckin’ wished we could find.” It let a small shiver run down your back, hearing him talk about the past but at the same time, it gave you the feeling that this place might really hold your future in it, a better one than you could have ever thought of during the last months. “I’ll make sure you and your people will get good rooms”, Negan went on, holding your hand a little tighter for a moment, as if he was trying to make sure that you knew that he meant it and was already starting with his first steps to prove it to you,”You’re all gonna be cared for, you’ll get all you could possibly need.” “Thank you”, you mumbled only to see Negan quickly starting to shake his head. “There’s no damn need for that”, he quickly said, letting out an almost nervous breath as he looked at you,”Fuck, I gotta thank you for giving me a new chance.” For the first time since you got here, you felt yourself starting to crack a smile that got immediately mirrored by Negan, as the smile that had always spread warmth through you began to tug slightly on the corners of his lips. “I’ll use it to the fullest goddamn extent, I promise”, he assured again, holding onto your hand while you tried to let yourself relax a little more and lean into his touch. You still had to get used to it again and you were sure that it would take its time, similarly with your trust to him. You needed to move towards each other in baby steps again, give yourself enough time to fight the demons in you and the fears and mistrust they carried with themselves so you could start to feel safe and comfortable enough to let yourself fall again. You just wanted to process this all first and give yourself the chance to let the reality of what had actually happened take the top spot in your head instead of all the other torturous scenarios that had kept your head under control for months. You just wanted to be able to finally give yourself the chance for a better future, even though it would take time and effort to get to it. You hoped that with the closure, the answers to your questions and the new opportunities that presented themselves, you’d be able to let the pain that had become your everlasting companion fade, and instead make room for the things you had missed the most; pure happiness, laughs so intense that they made your belly hurt and the feeling of being safe and wanted. And for the very first time after all these months, you felt like these things were reachable again, no matter the hard work that was needed to get them. For the very first time after all these months, you felt like you could start to free yourself from the cuffs of the past and step into a new, better life, together with Negan.

________

Lyrics (Unless Tumblr screwed the fonts up, the bolt words below are those that I especially used in this imagine!) I can see you standin', honey With his arms around your body Laughin' but the joke's not funny at all And it took you five whole minutes To pack us up and leave me with it Holdin' all this love out here in the hall I think I've seen this film before And I didn't like the ending You're not my homeland anymore So what am I defendin' now? You were my town Now I'm in exile seein' you out I think I've seen this film before Hoo, hoo-ooh Hoo, hoo-ooh Hoo, hoo-ooh I can see you starin', honey Like he's just your understudy Like you'd get your knuckles bloody for me Second, third, and hundredth chances Balancin' on breaking branches Those eyes add insult to injury I think I've seen this film before And I didn't like the ending I'm not your problem anymore So who am I offending now? You were my crown Now I'm in exile seein' you out I think I've seen this film before So I'm leavin' out the side door So step right out There is no amount Of cryin' I can do for you All this time We always walked a very thin line You didn't even hear me out (You didn't even hear me out) You never gave a warning sign (I gave so many signs) All this time I never learned to read your mind (Never learned to read my mind) I couldn't turn things around (You never turned things around) 'Cause you never gave a warning sign (I gave so many signs) So many signs So many signs (You didn't even see the signs) I think I've seen this film before And I didn't like the ending You're not my homeland anymore So what am I defending now? You were my town Now I'm in exile seein' you out I think I've seen this film before So I'm leaving out the side door So step right out There is no amount Of cryin' I can do for you ___________ The gif is not mine. I found it on google so all credit to the original owner!

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