#i almost forgot i made this gif set too when I made the last one

[aflawedfashion]

Melanie Cavill | Snowpiercer 1x06

[sinfulspencer]

Flashed

Prompt: It’s too hot to wear clothes at home, so Reader walks around in her underwear. Spencer loses his train of thoughts at the sight.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Rating: mature (18+)

Warnings: light dom/sub dynamic (Dom!Spencer, Sub!Reader if you squint), dirty talking, hair pulling, light impact play, breeding kink, unprotected sex 

Words: 5.0k

A.N.: Horny Spencer. That’s it. Also, this is the first official Spencer Reid fic I have written since last year. It felt so good to write for him again. Written this with a prompt from the Summer Sunshine challenge by @imagining-in-the-margins. Thank you to @reidselle and @drgenius-reid for beta-reading this fic!

MASTERLIST. REQUEST GUIDELINES. TAGLIST FORM.

When Spencer asked you to move in with him at the end of the year, he was ready to face every challenge that life would throw at him. The first fights over laundry, the first fight over whoever almost set the house on fire, the first fights over the person that was supposed to remake the bed before going to work, the first fights over whoever left the TV on before going to bed… 

He was prepared for everything.

Spencer learned to cook (he wasn’t good at it, but he knew how to turn on the stove and boil some water, at least). He learned how to do laundry. He learned how to clean the floors without you falling on your own ass because he forgot to tell you that the ground was wet. 

But Spencer wasn’t ready for the summer. 

You moved in with him during the fall season, when it was still cold outside, and it was time to drink hot chocolate in front of the fireplace. You moved in with him when you were still wearing a winter jacket, leather boots and a scarf around your neck. You moved in when the wind was so cold that you could barely keep the window slightly opened in the bathroom after taking a shower to let the steam go out. 

Spencer wasn’t fucking ready for summer.

The hot weather was already taking a toll on his poor body and he hated it. Spencer despised the high temperatures because they made him sweat like a pig and he hated, more than anything, the feel of sweat under his armpits or behind his knees. 

Normally, before you moved in, Spencer would spend the whole time at home completely naked or wearing only underwear. It wasn’t an everyday occurrence, but it happened quite a lot. 

What was the problem, then?

Spencer used to walk around in his apartment in his underwear when he was alone, but you’re doing it while he’s in the house. He knew you paced around the house that way because you felt comfortable, but still. He was a stupid man, with hormones that rushed through his body like crazy.

You walked around your shared apartment with nothing on but a pair of panties that Spencer always wanted to rip off you and a stupid bra that made your breasts look even more delicious. 

And the sight had started to take a toll on Spencer for the worst. He was constantly horny, making it difficult for him to focus on simple tasks such as cleaning the whole apartment or doing laundry. 

He woke up one day and you already were parading yourself in your underwear, which made his morning wood even more difficult to take care of. He came home that same night and you were still in your underwear, which led him to forget he was supposed to grab some dinner with Luke because he ended up taking you against the bedroom door.

Spencer didn’t want you to wear clothes if you were too hot, but he also needed to learn how to keep his hands to himself whenever he saw an inch of your naked skin. He felt like a teenager, always eager to touch and ravish what belonged to him.

When Spencer tried to explain the situation to Luke, his colleague laughed right in his face. At first, Spencer was offended. 

‘Why are you complaining about seeing your girlfriend’s tits? You should be happy she feels comfortable around you.’

And Spencer was happy; he truly was. He was proud to know he made you feel good about yourself and allowed you to walk around the house almost naked, but he also felt like an idiot for getting a boner whenever he thought about coming home and knowing he’d find you dressed like that. 

Or better, undressed. 

That night, Spencer couldn’t wait to get home and tell you that he had a birthday party to attend next week. It was Penelope’s birthday and, as every year for the past ten, she had an entire day planned for her and her friends from work. There would be a huge pool party in a small agritourism she rented for the day, followed by a barbecue and a whole garden to explore. 

Spencer was excited to bring you there. 

You had been dating for over a year now and you couldn’t meet his co-workers and friends because you always had meetings to attend, or shifts that were incompatible with the nights the team hung out all together. 

“Y/N?” Spencer called out when he entered his apartment. 

The lights in the kitchen were on and he could hear you humming to a song blasting from the speakers. 

He dropped his bag on the floor and followed the sound of your voice, only to find you in nothing but your underwear. Again. You had your back turned and were swaying your hips to the rhythm of the music, making Spencer smile at the sight. Though the music was loud and almost hurt his ears, he was willing to tolerate the loud volume if it meant he could observe you in your element for hours on end. 

He was so enamoured with you even though you weren’t doing anything in particular. He fell harder for you everyday just watching you exist, breathe and live on your own.

But of course, the romantic thoughts in his head abruptly stopped when you felt his presence in the room and you screamed.

“Fuck! What the fuck, Spencer?!”

He didn’t want to laugh at your terrified expression, but a chuckle fell from his lips. 

“Did I scare you?”

You roll your eyes, dropping your apron on the counter. “No. I screamed because I was learning how to fry scream. Fuck yes, you scared me.”

Spencer walked to the other side of the kitchen counter and wrapped his arms around your shoulders, pulling you into a tight hug. You smelled like apples and he could see them in the corner of his eyes, all peeled up. 

“How was work? Did you get your stuff done?” you asked

Spencer nodded his head, kissing your temple without losing his grip on you. “Yes. I’m exhausted, though. I couldn’t wait to get home so I could relax and enjoy some time with you.”

You leaned forward, caressing his soft curls. “I bet you’re tired. You’ve been awake since five in the morning.”

As Spencer left the kitchen to get changed, he heard the music turning back on and he smiled. Your footsteps echoed in the room, and he smiled because he knew you were dancing to your favourite songs again. But still, there was a big problem that needed to be solved at that instant. 

You were still in your underwear and of course, he had noticed that. How couldn’t he? 

Spencer saw you for less than three minutes and yet, the bulge in his trousers made it difficult for him to think straight. He didn’t know how it was possible for you to turn him on that much, but you did and it was starting to make things harder for him.

If Spencer brought you to Penelope's birthday party, you were definitely going to wear a bikini. And a bikini is basically the same thing as your underwear… which meant one thing.

“Oh no.”

“Are you talking to me?”

Spencer turned around, attempting to cover the issue between his thighs with the jacket he brought to work that morning. 

“Uh, no love. No, I was just thinking about… something.”

“Care to share?” you asked with an innocent smile.

Spencer knew that smile was actually innocent; you had no ill intentions, but his brain was starting to play games with him. He was so turned on that Spencer thought every little microexpression on your face and every move you made were just actions to tease him and work him up. 

They were not. Or maybe they were.

“Sorry, uh… Yeah. Penelope invited me to her birthday party this Saturday.”

Your face enlightened at his words. “Oh! That’s so nice!”

“She asked me to bring you, too.” 

“I don’t like the tone you just used. If you don’t want to bring me, that’s…”

Spencer widened his eyes, realising that his words might’ve sounded rude. “No! I’m excited to let you meet all of my friends and co-workers, truly.”

“Then, what is it? I know there’s something that bothers you.”

You sat on the bed with your legs crossed, waiting for Spencer to continue but, he didn’t dare to move. If he placed his jacket on the bed, you would’ve noticed the painful tent in his trousers. If he didn’t move, you would’ve asked him why he wasn’t taking off his clothes and putting on more comfortable ones.

Too many thoughts were running wild through Spencer’s brain and it was difficult for him to gather them all, cast aside the naughty ones and focus on the more normal ones. 

It was tough not to stare at the curves of your breasts and how he could see the shadow of your nipples hidden behind the fabric of your bra. He has spent so many hours just licking and sucking your skin around your breasts, that he can still taste you on his tongue if he focuses hard enough. 

“Penelope has rented a whole place for all of us.”

You hummed, tilting your head. “Sounds really nice. Is there a swimming pool involved? Is that why you’re worried?”

Spencer bit his bottom lip, forcing himself not to stare at the way your hair fell over your shoulders and covered the laces of your bra. A few days ago, he used his teeth to remove that same bra. It was a struggle not to think about that night, and he pathetically failed.

“I’m sure the place she rented is clean and…”

As you started to speak and comfort Spencer over his fear of germs, his mind wandered elsewhere. You moved to the centre of the bed to be closer to him and laid on it, with your arms behind your head and your body all stretched out. 

Your bra barely covered your full breasts and your thighs were much more visible, with all the little bruises still peppering your skin. The same bruises he caused two days before. The same bruises you begged him to create on. 

Spencer’s brain was starting to get even foggier. 

“Are you even listening to me, love?” 

You snapped your fingers in front of his face and Spencer dropped the jacket on the floor, quickly bending over to pick it up. Of course, he was listening to you, but he was just… thinking about something else while you were talking. 

“Hm.”

“I’ll take that as a no.”

Spencer turned away from you and looked down, frowning. His bulge was still there and getting more painful, but how in the world was he going to face you and ask you if you could help him out? He knew you would, in a heartbeat, but he felt miserable. 

How could he ask you to stop walking around his place in nothing but your underwear when he wanted to worship your body every hour of every day? How could he deny himself the sight of your stunning body? 

His eyes went straight to your breasts and of course, you noticed it. 

“Spencer!”

“Hm? What’s up?”

“My God.” - you started to say, sitting up on the bed - “You’re distracted! You can’t even finish a sentence or listen to me.”

Spencer hummed again, forcing his eyes to stay on your face. Unfortunately, they slipped down to your breasts once again - but that time, Spencer didn’t deny it. How could he? He had been so obvious since he arrived home, but you thought to yourself that maybe you were imagining things.

Or you were too horny, but you weren’t. He was. 

“I’m sorry, it’s just…”

“You’ve been staring at my breasts since you saw me in the kitchen.” you stated

Spencer sighed, turning his back on you again. “I’m sorry. They’re distracting.”

“Look at me, love.”

He lingered for a few seconds, covering his face with both hands. He didn’t want to turn around because he knew you would’ve teased him for hours on end, but it truly wasn’t his fault. It was his brain that tricked him into staring at your boobs and remembering all the things he did to you the night before and all the other days. 

It wasn’t his fault he had an eidetic memory and he could replay all your moments of intimacy together each time he wanted. How you looked when he kissed your neck, how you moaned when his tongue swirled around your nipples…

“You can look at them whenever you want, you know.” - you tapped his shoulder, kneeling behind him on the bed - “I’m your girlfriend, aren’t I?”

“That’s not the point, Y/N.” - Spencer replied, forcing himself to turn around - “You’re so distracting, I can barely think when you’re there… dressed up like that.”

You raised your brows. “Do you want me to change?”

“No!” - he exclaimed, before clearing his throat - “I mean… maybe. I don’t know, but I can’t keep getting hard because you’re half-naked.”

“What’s wrong with being attracted to me, love?” you asked with your arms crossed.

“There’s nothing wrong with that, you know, but it’s hard to be around you when all I think about is how I want to just…” - he took a deep breath before shaking his head - “I need to behave, I’m sorry.”

There was a moment of silence where you pondered over his words. He seemed so miserable and all because he was so attracted to you that he could barely think, that he could barely remember that he had other things to do other than you. 

That felt incredibly hot. 

Leaning forward, you placed a hand on his hip. “I want to hear what you’re thinking about right now.”

Spencer shook his head, covering your hand with his. “It’s too early.”

“It’s never too early to make love to your partner, Spencer.”

You were right, he knew that, but he also knew that if he kissed you and took you right there, he would’ve spent the whole night just trying to do it over and over until you were too tired to move or to keep your eyes open. 

Spencer sighed and looked down at you. “You drive me crazy.”

“And what’s the harm in that, love?” you asked innocently 

He moved his hands under your neck and forced you to look at him, gripping your chin with his fingertips. You went quiet, trying to decipher the expression on his face, though the tight grip was already a good hint of what he was thinking about.  

“No harm.”

“Exactly, so… What’s stopping you?”

Spencer knew nothing was stopping him from pressing your body onto the mattress and pounding into you. He had every right to do so because he knew you wanted it as much as he did, but still. There was an issue to fix and he refused to let his hormones get in the way, once again. 

But maybe just this time, Spencer thought.

You leaned your head against his palm, and closed your eyes when his fingers brushed over your cheek. He could look at you for hours, admiring how you basked in the sweetness of his touch that you found so comforting. 

“Nothing’s stopping me.”

You sighed, running your hands over his chest. “Good.”

Spencer unbuckled his belt and the metal clanking of it falling onto the floor brought an eager smile to your lips. Of course you smiled, because you were about to get exactly what you wanted since he came home. 

Little minx, Spencer thought. 

“You don’t need to hold back from what you truly desire, Spencer.” 

He drank up your words like they were the sweetest honey and he sighed. You were right; he didn’t need to stop himself from putting his hands over you if you wanted to be touched as well, but still.

“If you want to rip my underwear off me, you can do it.” - you muttered, slowly opening the buttons of his shirt - “If you want to fuck me like this, while I’m almost naked and you’re still dressed, you can do it.”

Spencer watched as your skilled fingers pushed his shirt off his shoulder and sighed, because there was nothing else he could do or say at that moment. You had him wrapped around your tiny finger and you knew it, which was why he loved you so much. You could’ve snapped your fingers and he would’ve dropped to his knees for you. 

“I just.. I just need to have you. At all times.”

“You can.” - you replied with no hesitation, only firmness in your voice - “I am here for your pleasure. Always.”

Spencer released a long sigh. “I know. I’m so lucky.”

Pushing his trousers down his legs to reveal his soft skin, you looked up at him with your lips turned into a wicked grin. You could see the emotions rapidly changing behind those eyes: lust, frustration, love, annoyance and desire. That was exactly what you wanted: you craved to drive Spencer crazy and you needed him to lose his mind over you. 

It made you feel powerful.

“You’re so pretty when you’re desperate for me.” you said 

Spencer leaned into your touch when you reached out for his face. “So are you, princess.”

But the tender moment was gone as fast it came, because there was no time to be nice to one another. Spencer wanted to wreck you and you wanted him to do as he pleased; you wanted the pleasure to consume him, and so it did.

Spencer kissed you for the first time since he came home and, of course, he had no time to be nice. His tongue pushed into your mouth without warning, but you let it as you laid down on the bed with the man on top of you. The kiss expressed all the frustration that had built within him ever since he came home and found you in the kitchen, wiggling your ass to the music and singing at the top of your lungs. 

His teeth dug into the soft flesh of your bottom lip and you whined, almost tasting blood on your tongue. 

“Let me be rough tonight.”

You grabbed him by the chin, staring right into those honey-coloured eyes. “Perhaps I was not clear with my words a moment ago, Spencer. I want you to do whatever you want to me.”

Spencer groaned at your words and pushed any rational thought out of his mind, allowing the frustration and profound desire felt for you to drive him. His pupils were blown wide with unbridled lust making you shiver, bringing the heat between your thighs where you so desperately wanted to be touched. 

Spencer kissed your mouth before moving down to your throat, attacking it with bites and gentle licks that made you whimper. 

“I’m going to ravish you tonight, my princess.” - Spencer whispered to your ear, running his hands all over your breasts - “And you’re going to take my cock like the good girl I know you are for me, yeah?”

“Yes. Yes, love.”

He moved his hands to your face, kissing the tip of your nose. “Hands and knees.”

You scrambled to turn around, struggling to move as his arms didn’t give you as much space as you needed. Spencer, ever so helpful, pulled your hips up when you managed to roll on your tummy. 

“Good girl, that’s it.”

You could feel his cock against your ass when he leaned forward to bite your shoulder and you moaned, closing your eyes. His nails dug into the soft flesh of your back, dragging your panties down your thighs before throwing them on the floor. 

Spencer’s mouth wandered down your neck, leaving a trace of kisses that started from your right shoulder and went down to your ass. He nibbled at the soft skin right below it before biting down, hard enough to draw blood. You yelped at the feeling, but didn’t complain as your hands scratched the blanket. 

Spencer pulled away for a second and traced the small wound with the tip of his index, earning a hiss from you. It hurt, but you wanted it to hurt - you promised you’d bleed for him, and bleed you did. 

“Good girl. So pretty for me.” - Spencer whispered, but you were more focused on the sound of a bottle of lube being opened - “I’m sorry, I’m so impatient to have you. I wish we could take this slow, but I can’t.”

“It’s okay, I know you’re desperate.” - you mumbled, moaning softly when his fingers breached your entrance - “It’s fucking cold.”

He chuckled at your reaction, smearing the lube all over your already wet slit. “Oops”

When you were ready, Spencer found no resistance as he slowly pushed the tip of his cock inside of you. He watched the way your walls welcomed him in and revelled in the sweetness of your whimpers and whines when you felt him. Spencer waited, watching you as you struggled to stay still for him. 

“Please, just… Get inside, for fuck’s sake.”

“Oh? Wanna take it all at once, my princess?” - Spencer asked, running his left hand through your hair - “Are you desperate for my cock? Then, fucking have it.”

In one hard thrust, Spencer bottomed out inside of you and you fell on the bed with your face in the pillow. You trembled when you finally felt every inch of his cock inside of you and you thought you were ready to fall off the edge in less than a minute. 

You were desperate for him every single time you had the chance to make love to him.

“Take it, princess. You wanted it and now you have it.”

Spencer watched you as you arched your back, tightening your grip on the bed sheets. A chorus of curses and moans flows from your lips as you try to get back on your knees, but his thrusts are too quick and harsh to let you get in position. So, again, you fell down with your face in the pillow. 

The pleasure quickly expanded through your body as Spencer never slowed down the pace of his thrusts, basking in the gentle sounds of your moans. His right hand travelled down to reach your ass, and before you felt it, you heard it - there was a brief moment of silence, followed by a loud smack and then a deep heat diffusing over your skin. 

It had been so long since he spanked you, but with that position, you couldn’t blame him.

The sensation heightened the pleasure within you. 

“Oh, fuck!”

Spencer moved both his hands on each side of your head and leaned forward, keeping his thrusts quick and regular. You could feel his body tense each time you tried to push back into him, to fuck yourself onto his cock. 

You were already close, desperate to ride that delicious end. 

“Please, more.” - you cried out again - “Please, I’m close.”

“Don’t you dare.” - he bit your earlobe - “Don’t you fucking dare come on my cock now.”

You whined at his order, not sure how you would be able to hold it and be a good girl for him. It wasn’t easy to hold an orgasm, especially if Spencer never stopped fucking into you with all the energy he had in his body. You were so close, you were right there but Spencer stopped his movements - and suddenly, you felt a warm tear slip down your cheek.

A single tear of frustration. 

Spencer forced you on your back, pushing you onto the mattress before sliding his cock back inside of you. 

“I want to see your pretty face when you come, princess.” - Spencer whispered, lifting your right leg and wrapping it around his own waist - “I want you to look at me as you come undone on my cock.”

His pace is as rough as before and you felt more tears spill from your eyes. Your hands quickly went behind his neck as you rolled your hips, a pathetic attempt at fucking yourself back onto his cock to feel more and more. 

You couldn’t form a coherent sentence. The only word that fell from your lips was a strained ‘yes’ that echoed in the room, encouraging Spencer to go harder and faster, to tear you down piece by piece.

And he looked fucking stunning as he did so. 

His lean body, his muscles were tense, a single strand of hair falling over his forehead and his tongue poking out in concentration… You wanted to get those details tattooed on your brain, on your body, every-fucking-where. 

“Such a good girl for me, huh? My pretty princess.” - Spencer whispered, looking down at you - “Always welcoming me with nothing on, knowing how crazy that makes me.”

Your lips opened slightly, more whimpers flowing from them. 

“Do you know how difficult it is to get out of here and not remember all the times I’ve fucked you against the door?” he said, his voice rough.

You shook your head, not sure if you understood what he said. 

“Fuck, you make me so horny. I fucking love your body.” - he mumbled, pressing his forehead to yours - “I always think about it and then I see dressed like that… It’s like you’re always begging me to bend you over and fuck your pretty cunt.”

You’ve always loved his dirty mouth, but that day it felt deliciously perfect. His thrusts were rough and faltering, which meant he was close to his orgasm too - you almost forgot you were close, totally enamoured by him and the way he spoke about you.  

“My slutty princess.”

You nodded with a smile, drunk on your lust for him. “All yours to use and destroy.”

You felt the pleasure built up again right behind your belly button and you knew you were close again. Spencer must’ve noticed it because he kept his pace quick, never changing the angle because he felt you clench hard around him each time he bottomed out. Your thighs were shaking around his waist and he could feel your heartbeat quickening under his fingertips. 

“My good girl.” - he mumbled, closing his eyes for a moment - “I can feel you’re close. Do you want to come on my cock, princess?”

He didn’t need a verbal answer, because soon your cries of pleasure were enough. You widened your eyes and threw your head back onto the pillow, crying out his name over and over as your nails dug into his shoulders. He could feel his skin breaking under your nails but he didn’t care. 

Spencer was too enamoured with you to realise how painful your grip was. 

“That’s it, gorgeous. You did so well.” he rewarded you with a kiss on the lips 

You barely felt it, drunk on the pleasure that he fed you. Your whole body was shuddering as Spencer helped you ride out your orgasm, but the more he thrusted, the more pain you felt stabbing you. You didn’t complain, though. 

You wanted it, you needed it and so did he. 

“Does this pretty princess want my cum deep inside of her, hm?” Spencer asked

You weren’t sure he heard you, but you managed to choke out: “Yes. Please, please, fucking do it. Please.”

A few thrusts later, Spencer granted you your wish. His warmth flooded you from the inside as he watched the way his body become one with yours, shivering with pleasure. His right hand pressed down hard below your belly button and you winced, feeling his seed run deep if that was even possible. 

It felt so incredibly good you could almost come again. 

“Ah, that felt fucking perfect.”

You closed your arms around his neck and caged him against your body, so that he wouldn’t be able to run away. Not that he wanted to, of course, but. 

Spencer didn’t move for at least five good minutes, struggling to catch his own breath while you stared at the bedroom ceiling with a grin on your face. You were deeply satisfied with yourself and you were sure Spencer was content, as well - though the conversation between you wasn’t over. 

You knew that not putting on clothes would’ve distracted him and maybe that was exactly why you never put them on when he was around in your shared apartment. It was fun to see him struggling between staring at your breasts or at your thighs, or forgetting that he had to hang out with his colleagues because he was too busy burying his face in your cunt or fucking you against a window. 

It felt good to be desired, and it felt even better knowing that it was the only thing Spencer was able to think about when he was away from you. 

“You have to stop walking around our place naked.”

You put a hand on his chest, gently pushing him upward. Spencer was still lying between your legs, but he was staring at you. 

“Naked? I am always wearing my underwear.” you stated 

Spencer bumped the tip of his nose against yours. “Which is dangerously distracting, Y/N.”

“Oh, you’re using my name in a conversation.”

“I’m being serious, princess. I can’t get a boner whenever I’m near you.” - he explained, pressing a kiss on your jaw - “Believe me, I appreciate the sight but… My brain needs some rest. And so does my penis.”

“Okay, alright. I’ll do my best to keep my clothes on.” - I decided to give in - “After six weeks of pure hell, I think you deserve a break.”

Spencer kissed your cheek, before biting it softly. “I appreciate it, my princess.”

“But that doesn’t mean I won’t do it occasionally just to drive you crazy.” you warned him 

“Oh, I’m fine with that.” - he said, rolling off your body - “But give me a heads up before doing it, okay? I wouldn’t want to come home with Luke and find you in your underwear.”

“Well… it could be fun. Maybe he’d like to join…”

Spencer covered your mouth with his’ before you could finish your sentence, but the kiss was interrupted by your loud laugh echoing through the walls. 

“Alright, Luke will never see me like this.” - you gave him a peck on the lips, pushing him off you before he could spread your legs again - “This sight is for your eyes only.”

TAGLIST @blvebanisters @koukatsuki @moesdraft

BROKEN TAGS @alelaeljfj @donttrustlove

[theuntoldstorythatneedsawriter]

Online Meeting 🖥

Alexia Putellas x Reader

warning : fluffy 💭💗

summary :

Alexia is in the middle of a major online interview when you accidentally walk into the room, having completely forgotten she was busy. Although the camera doesn’t catch you, Alexia’s reaction is caught live.

Alexia was sitting at her desk, her laptop perfectly positioned as she adjusted her headphones one last time. The small study in your shared apartment had been transformed into her mini-interview set, with her Barça trophies and framed jerseys in the background, arranged neatly to give the interview the perfect backdrop. She was poised, as always, every inch the composed professional that everyone expected her to be.

You, on the other hand, had completely forgotten about the interview. It wasn’t until you were halfway through your third cup of coffee, humming to yourself as you cleaned the kitchen, that you realized something seemed… off. There was a lingering quietness that told you Alexia was probably busy. But by the time that thought even crossed your mind, it was already too late. With your usual casualness, you strolled down the hall, lost in your thoughts, and opened the door to the study without knocking.

Alexia had just finished answering a question about her career highlights when her eyes flicked up to meet yours as you stepped into the room. Her reaction was instant, her brown eyes widening slightly, a hint of surprise flashing across her features. Her hand shifted on the desk, almost as if she was trying to keep herself composed. But what gave it away was the tiny, amused smile that tugged at her lips. One she desperately tried to hide as she glanced quickly back at her screen.

You froze, mid-step, realizing your mistake. You had completely forgotten she was in the middle of the live interview, and now you’d just barged in like it was no big deal. Your face flushed instantly, and you mouthed a quick and apologetic, “Sorry!” before backing out of the room as quietly as you could manage.

The camera hadn’t caught you, thankfully, but Alexia’s reaction was all over the screen. Viewers couldn’t see you, but they could see her. And while Alexia was trying her hardest to stay focused on the interviewer’s next question, the damage had already been done. Her usually calm and composed demeanor had cracked, if only for a moment, and her fans weren’t going to miss it.

The next few minutes of the interview went on, but anyone watching could tell Alexia’s mind had wandered. She’d answer the questions with her usual grace, but there was a softness to her expression now, a slight curve to her lips that hadn’t been there before. And, occasionally, she’d glance off-camera for just a second, where she knew you were probably pacing the hall, silently cursing yourself for the interruption.

The interview wrapped up shortly after, and Alexia thanked the interviewer with her usual charm. But as soon as the call ended, she slid off her headphones and called out, “Cariño!”

You appeared in the doorway again, your face flushed, still embarrassed. “I’m so sorry,” you said, rushing over. “I completely forgot! Did I ruin it?”

Alexia chuckled, leaning back in her chair and reaching for your hand to pull you into her lap. “You didn’t ruin anything"

You let a sigh of relief as you leaned into her, resting your head against her shoulder. Alexia kissed your temple softly, clearly amused.

That was a lie, Alexia had noticed the subtle shift in the live chat during the interview. The influx of comments as soon as her reaction was caught on screen. You did definitely ruin the interview, but you didn't need to know or worry your pretty head about it.

*Did anyone else catch that?? Who walked into the room?!*

*OMG Alexia almost broke character. Who was it??*

*She’s so cute when she’s distracted. Someone made her smile, and I need to know who!*

*I've never seen Alexia react like that during an interview. What happened??*

pt. 2 ; pt.3

[logansargeantsbabymom]

Too Good to Say Goodbye

Logan Sargeant x Fem!Reader

Warnings: cursing, Hurt/Comfort & Implied Smut, MAJOR TW: stillborn

Summary: Y/N is tired of constantly being dissed by Logan and he doesn't seem to care, at least not until it's too late.

part 1 I part 2 I part 3 I part 4 I part 5 I part 6 I Part 7 I part 8 I part 9 I part 10

F1 Masterlist

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I clasp my jacket closer to my body as I wait for Logan to open the door of our shared apartment. It's pouring rain and my dumbass forgot the keys, I sigh as I pull my phone out, dialing my lovers number.

one ring

two rings

three rings

four- declined.

*new text from "Logie Bear🐻💙"*

Logie Bear🐻💙: Babe I'm on the sim, give me a few.

Me: I'm out here in the pouring rain and I left my key, You said you'd unlock the door 5 minutes ago.

Logie Bear🐻💙: You fucking made me crash.

Logie Bear🐻💙: I'm coming.

A scoff leaves my lips as I shove my phone into my soak jean pockets that stuck to my skin, a few minutes later I hear the lock click and the door swigs open revealing a less than happy Logan.

"Damn, were you watching our home videos while waiting for me to open the door?" Logan laughed as he took in a soaked me before side stepping so I could walk in.

"I've been outside for 10 fucking minutes in the pouring rain Logan and you're making jokes?" I almost screamed at him

Unbelievable, all I do for him and this is how he treats me?

"Woah babe, take a joke," Logan starts before his phone starts ringing "Yeah? Oh for sure, right now? Uh huh, Okay I'll hop on. Yup yup, just give me 5. I'm grabbing a snack" with that Logan hung up the phone "I'm hoping back on the sim with the boys, so just take a shower and dry the floors, you're ruining the wood."

I wanted to scream, I'm ruining the floors? I wouldn't be ruining the floors if you would've opened the door 10 minutes ago like you fucking said you would.

I made my way into our shared room, grabbing my clothes and speaker before making my way to the bathroom. Once in the bathroom, I connected my phone to the speaker and started playing "Hold Me While You Wait" by Lewis Capaldi on a low volume before stripping out of the soaking wet clothes that stuck to my skin.

My shaking hand turned the tap to hot as the water started spurting out of the shower head, which made me sigh thinking about the shower head I gave Logan every time we showered together. Today makes 3 weeks since we last fucked, and that was also probably why I'm so aggravated at everything he does. All this pent up sexual tension between us is driving me crazy.

Before stepping into the now steamy shower I turned the volume up on the song currently playing. Once in the tub, I let all my problems wash off of me and down the drain as I let the boiling hot water hit my skin. After what felt like 3 minutes of pure bliss, I hear a faint knock at the door before hearing it open. Peaking my head out the shower curtain I'm greeted by Logan just standing by the door.

"Hey Logie, care to join me?" I said in a low & seductive voice, watching as he steps fully into the bathroom and closes the door. A victory smile makes its way on my lips as I pull myself behind the curtain once more, quickly lathering myself in foamy soap.

I can hear Logans footsteps getting closer to the shower, but instead of getting in I hear him pick up my phone, turn the volume down, set my phone back down and as he's leaving he mutters "Not tonight. Boys are on the game and i can’t focus on them because your depressing songs are too loud."

Are you fucking kidding me?

That had been my last straw. In one quick movement I turn off the shower, throw my robe on and march out of the bathroom and into his sim room.

"Are you fucking kidding me Logan?!" I shout as a burst in the room, face red from anger. I can hear a mix of muffled oohs, laughs and you're in trouble. I couldn't bring myself to care about anyone on the sim with him.

"Hey! I'm on the sim! Watch your tone!" Logan shouted back, earning him a glare that said turn your fucking simulator off now.

"We're gonna have a serious talk. Now" I said in a stern voice. That made Logan turn the game off and actually face me

"What the fuck do you want to talk about that you bust into my sim room and interrupt me when I'm on with my friends WHO HAPPEN TO BE A COWORKERS?!" Logan shouted, his beautiful face now a shade of red that no-one liked, his eyes as cold and sharp as ice.

“I WANT TO TALK ABOUT YOU. YOURE BEHAVIOR, THE WAY YOU’VE BEEN ACTING TOWARDS ME, THE WAY YOU DONT FUCKING TOUCH ME ANYMORE, DO YOU EVEN STILL FUCKING LOVE ME?!” I tried to stop, I really did but all the anger built up inside of me over the last few weeks just started pouring out “WHATS BEEN GOING ON WITH YOU LOGAN? YOU’RE NOT YOURSELF AND ITS EFFECTING ME, YOU KEEP SHUTTING ME OUT, AND MAKING ME FEEL BAD ABOUT MYSELF! AM I NOT GOOD ENOUGH FOR YOU ANYMORE? HUH!?” the more I screamed at him and the more I cried, I saw not one bit of remorse in his eyes.

“Are you fucking done being dramatic now?” Logan says with a scoff “Nothing is fucking wrong with me. Have you ever stopped to think that maybe you’re the problem? No, you haven’t because you think so highly of yourself. You think that you’re the fucking shit and you’re not!” his words hit me like a punch to the gut.

the tears welling up in my eyes, now falling like heavy rain down my face. “You’re not the Logan I fell in love with,” my breath shaky “I don’t know who you are. I want my Logan back. I want the Logan who came to all my wrestling matches, the Logan who regularly took me out on dates despite his hectic work schedule, I want my Logan who got mad at me when I paid for dinner because ‘it’s a man’s job to pay for his girls meal’, the Logan who always took me to his races and showed me off like I was a rare jewel he found,” the waterfall beneath my eyes couldn’t stop me from staring into his soul while i said this last part “I miss my Logan who stood by me when we had our miscarriage” That seemed to get a reaction out of him.

“You have the fucking nerve to bring up MY baby. Don’t you EVER bring up MY baby like that again. You HAVE NO RIGHT.” Logan said tearing up

“YOURE BABY? HE WAS MINE TOO. IT WASNT JUST YOU THAT LOST A BABY, IT WAS ME TOO. HOW DO YOU THINK I FELT PUSHING OUT OUR BABY KNOWING HE WAS DEAD? I WANTED TO FUCKING KILL MYSELF LOGAN. I FELT LIKE I FUCKING FAILED YOU AND OUR SON.”

“MAYBE YOU FUCKING SHOULD’VE KILLED YOURSELF. HAVE YOU EVER THOUGHT OF THAT?! IF YOU KILLED YOURSELF I’D BE SO MUCH BETTER OFF.” a sob escaped my lips as Logan finishes talking. “You act like I can’t find someone else, like I can’t impregnate another woman. You’re nothing but another piece of ass to me, that couldn’t fucking keep my son alive in you.”

Logan storms out of the room, slamming the door as he goes.

“Well, I’m so glad you told me this now because I’d HATE for our DAUGHTER to be in a house where her dad thinks so lowly of her mother!” I scream while I barge into our shared room, grabbing a suitcase and filling it up with all my shit I can fit in it.

Soft footsteps make their way to the room, stopping just before the door. Slowly I hear the door open and see Logan slowly walking in.

“what did you say?” he asks me in disbelief “did you say ‘Our Daughter’?”

“YEAH IM FUCKING PREGNANT AGAIN BUT SINCE IM JUST ANOTHER PIECE OF ASS TO YOU, IM FUCKING LEAVING AND YOURE NOT GONNA FUCKING SEE HER.” I yell, closing up the suitcase and heading for the door before feeling a tug on my wrist

“no baby, please. I’m sorry, i’m so sorry. let me make it all up to you and be in her life. i’ll change, I’ll be better, I’ll do anything to get you back.” tearing now streaming down Logan face

“I’ll be back in the morning to get the rest of my shit.” I said before tugging my wrist back and slamming the door shut behind me.

pt2 maybe?

thank you for reading! hope you enjoyed !!

@forevercaffeinated-lee

https://docs.google.com/forms/d/e/1FAIpQLSesvRpKqBaYY-Ow5IgHoD0gSX6OzJ03qGMXOhHUI6Xg1wfKaA/viewform

[alomone]

Hello, I hope ur having a nice day :)))

Im here to request a Thomas x m! Reader.

Thomas is in the middle of butchering a victim when reader enters and distracts him. If you don’t mind, a make out session. Alternatively, you can replace it with a bunch of hugs and soft kisses!

Thank youuu

: ̗̀➛ Are you busy?

Thomas Hewitt x male reader

CW : FEM ALIGNED DNI, kissing, attempt at writing a make out session, no graphic depiction of the victim

Author's note : I'm having a wonderful day and I hope you do too!! my mind went wild with this one! thanks for the request!! I tried my best but I wrote it on no sleep so i'm sorry if it's bad!!!

This particular afternoon, you knew Thomas was busy, you could clearly hear it, the noise from the chainsaw could be heard from the shed and the sight must not be pretty at all. The screams were still ringing in your ears as you slowly approached him, the sound getting clearer and the smell of blood was burning your nose.

You could see him standing in front of the table, holding the chainsaw, "Thomas?" you called out to him, opening the door as you focused your eyes on your partner and not on the gruesome sight that once was another human being, another victim. "Are you busy?" He could clearly hear the grin in your voice as you knew that he was, indeed, busy. Thomas grunted but didn't turn his head toward you, telling you silently that he was listening.

"It's too hot in here, I don't want you overworking yourself, you know? Please, come inside?" You slowly asked him as you walked to stand in front of the table. A sigh left his lips as he turned toward you after some times, putting down the chainsaw on the side of the table that wasn't occupied by he rests of the victim. Thomas knew that no one was going to steal his chainsaw anyway, the only person capable of doing so was currently on the table emptying themselves of their blood.

You couldn't help but smile as he followed you to the house, Thomas knew you had an idea behind your head, he knew you enough to see that. When you finally set foot in your share room, you turned to him and wrapped your arms around his neck, holding him close. "It's been some time since the last moment we shared together, alone without anyone else disturbing us, don't you think?"

You looked at him and he sighed again, this time out of relief as his hand left his sides to come hold your hips tightly, pulling you closer to him. Not caring about the blood on his clothes, you left him to remove his mask, not wanting to overstep by any means. He had some troubles in the past with removing his mask in front of you but this was long dealt with, he did it on his own as you never stepped over the line and left him to come up to you by himself.

Thomas slowly left his hands roaming you body as they slowly reached you face, holding it closer for him to finally kiss you. Having his lips on yours was always such a good feeling to you. You couldn't help but gently ask permission with your tongue to enter his mouth, Thomas groaned into the kiss at the feeling and let you do it. Your mouth didn't leave his when he grabbed you by the hips and pinned you to the wall.

You forgot about the dead body in the shed, about his family and the way they despised you for being a man in a relationship with Thomas, about the time and the hot weather as you lost yourself into the kiss. Playing with his tongue as if you were trying to win over the other, it felt like it had been years since you last kissed each other. It was incredible, Thomas was incredible, you loved him so much it almost made you fall as you felt your knees weaken under you.

Thomas grabbed you again as to avoid letting you hurt yourself and you unfortunately had to part with him as you both were out of breath.

"You're so good to me, Thomas."

He nodded at your words as he caressed your hips, he was happy with you and he hoped it would stay like this for some times if not forever.

[bacytar]

Pockets full of posies

...IN WHICH— in which you fail to escape your sickeningly obsessed vampire partners.

Match up ᯓ 𑁤 yan. Lestat and Louis x reader

triggers_ predator vrs pray themes, power imbalance, sucking blood, kidnapping, sadistic tendencies

Authors musings: hello everyone, this fic although a poly one is a bit more centered around Lestat. In the future I will be making more Louis content. Anyway this is first time posting a full blown one shot so I really hope you enjoy.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Lestat knew about your little plan to escape them. Hell, he practically knew even before yourself. It all just made it all the more enjoyable to hunt you down.

He watched as you carefully gripped the edge of the train, tentiful not to make a sound as you pulled yourself in. Nesseling yourself in between two crates you finally feel yourself relax. You rummage through your leather messenger bag till your hands curl around the cool hilt of an aged dagger.

This wasnt your first attempt to escape and you hoped it would be your last. It had taken you ages to regain the minuscule amount of trust you had. You didn't have a set direction where you wanted to go. Just anywhere away from them felt enticing enough.

As the train moved, the cargo rattled beside you. A specter of a smile starting to creep upon your lips.

You had lasted much longer than you had ever had before and for that, Lestat could almost applaud you. If only he wasn't the first to let you in the first place. You wouldn't have heard him if all else wasnt silent. His footfall was quite, a trademark of a seasoned predator.

You tried your best to slow your beating pulse as your blood rushed in your ears. A low chuckle escapes Lestat's lips as he knocks on the wood of the train car.

"Did you scurry off in here my rabbit?"

You carefully extract the aged blade from your bag, ready to strike when the inevitable hits you. Lestat continues to hum as he creeps closer to you.

"Are you perhaps...here." He violently pulls back a crate, its remnants splintering with contact with the wall behind him. "No, not here..." He extracts another crate, which splinters, and its contents sprawled. He laughs, a cruel yet beautiful sound as he creeps toward your hiding spot. You can do nothing as your eyes meet. His gaze is wild and hollow and threatens your spine with a chill.

You remember the blade gripped in your hands and lunge forward but he is far too fast. This only seems to serve to amuse the vampire as he simply plucks the blade from your trembling hands and tosses it aside. You are helpless against his devastating grip as he smiles down at you.

"This was fun, but it's time to go home. Louis is worried sick." You scowl gathering the spit in your mouth and projecting it right at Lestat's face. "No! I won't! You're both horrible. Id-" Lestat cuts you off with a dry yet mocking laugh. "You know ma belle, I was going to let you off easy and just take your disobedience as entertainment. But no, I think you deserve something else."

Lastat's fangs protract as he slowly widens his mouth and lowers it to your neck. You could practically feel his sadistic smile as he sank his fangs into you. Your lips open in a silent scream as blinding pain pulses beneath his bite. You want to fight back but your body is unresponsive. Perfectly still as any good pet should be. It wasn't until the rim of your vision began to darken he parted from your neck.

It was raw and sore. A feeling you never enjoyed, though Lestat seemed to. He panted, enjoyment dripping from his features. "Mhm, I forgot how good you tasted." You had no biting remark back as he carried you bridal style out of the now-stopped train.

The ride back home was awkward and quiet. You tried to stop yourself from glancing at Lesatat because whenever you did your eyes seemed to meet without fail.

"Home" was just how you left it. Wild vines trumped the entrance, and warm light spilled from the windows only illuminated by the darkened sky. You didn't want to be a songbird in a gilded cage made of shadows anymore than you did when you left that evening. But alas you felt your free will diminish as Lestat placed a strong hand at the nape of your neck, guiding you in.

There you found Louis pacing. "Louis guess who I found." Lestat sang, pushing you in front of him. Louis immediately looked up clearly relieved. He didn't approach you immediately, instead slowly stepping toward you as if you were a caged animal that might just run from any swift movement.

Once he reached you he hugged you tight, his grip just as tight as Lestat's. Burying his face into the good side of your neck, he breathed, his breath slightly tickling you. "I was so worried..." He pulled away from you allowing you to see the worry and desperation that marinated in his gaze. If he wasn't crazy you would feel bad for him.

His hand grazes the side of your wounded neck, the leftover blood already caked onto your skin. Louis sucks in a breath, clearly tempted but able to restrain himself. "I-I see you have already had your fill huh." Lestat smiles and presses a kiss to his lips. "Just a quick snack."

Louis kisses your forehead then your cheek. His lips lingered longer than what was deemed comfortable. "You must be so tired after your... exploits," he said the last word as if it were poison. "Why don't we head to bed early." before you are able to answer or even interject Lestat answers for you "That sounds like a wonderful idea!" leaning down to your ear he whispers "We'll just have to bathe you tomorrow."

The three of you migrate up the steps. Both Louis and Lestat help you into your "night" attire before helping themselves, making sure your eyes are on them as they do so. Sinking into Louis's coffin altogether was a tight and suffocating fit, that tempted you to crawl out. You were trapped in a tangle of limbs until the sunset again.

[winchestersisterimaginessss]

Dead in the Water - Supernatural Imagine

Request: Can you pls do Winchester sister x brothers (but she's closer with Dean) dead in the water and Winchester sister drowns and almost dies!

warning: drowning, near death experience

A/N- I hope you like it!! Please request more, I love them!

You sat down next to Dean and watched him circle a section of a news article about a girl who drowned to death. Her name was Sophie Carlton and looking at her picture in the paper made you shiver.

You couldn’t imagine what it was like drowning to death. It had to be one of the worst ways to go. Your thoughts were interrupted by the waitress coming back to the table.

She leaned over it so her boobs were practically dangling in your brothers face and you sighed.

Sam made his way over to both of you at the table.

“Can I get you anything else?” She asked staring directly at Dean.

“Just the check, please,” Sam said, sitting next to Dean and shooting him a look.

“You know, Sam, we are allowed to have fun once in a while,” Dean groaned. He looked back over at the waitress and pointed, “That’s fun.”

You cringed, “Okay well do fun when I’m not here.” Dean looked across the table at you almost like he forgot you were there. “Fair enough, sorry kid.” He said as he turned his attention back to the newspaper.

“Take a look at this. I think I got one.” He said tossing the news paper towards Sam.

“Sophie Carlton, 18, last week. Walked into the lake, doesn’t walk out,” he started, stealing you a glance knowing you were going to feel some type of way about the case. He knew you like the back of his hand.

You just felt so bad. She was so young and she was absolutely beautiful. Looking at her picture made your heart hurt. Maybe it was because you were close in age so it hit a little closer to home? You didn’t know, but it didn’t settle right with you.

“Authorities dragged the water, nothing. Sophie Carlton is the third Lake Manitoc drowning this year. None of their bodies were found either. They had a funeral two days ago.” he finished.

“A funeral?” Sam asked.

“Well they probably needed some kind of closure. That’s such an awful thing to happen to someone, I can’t imagine the pain her friends and family are feeling.” You said with so much empathy.

You always were so sensitive and understanding of everything. You had so much empathy and sympathy in your heart.

Dean looked towards you shooting you a soft smile. He knew that you were super sensitive and got too connected to the people involved in cases. He loved that about you though because your big heart made their tough life a little less cold hearted.

“But people just don’t disappear, other people just stop looking for them,” Sam said matter of factly.

Oh great here we go, you thought.

“Something you want to say to me?” Dean asked giving Sam a look.

“The trail for dad- it’s getting colder every day.” Sam said.

“What are we supposed to do?” Dean asked.

“I don’t know. Something. Anything.” Sam replied exasperated.

“You know what? I’m sick of this attitude. You don’t think I want to find dad as much as you do?” He questioned Sam.

Your heart started to race. You didn’t like conflict between your family when it was already having problems.

“Yeah I know you do it’s just th-“ Sam started before Dean cut him off.

“I’m the one who’s been with him every single day for the past two years while you’ve been off to college going to prep rall-“ This time you interrupted Dean, afraid that he was about to say something that would set Sam off.

“Hey both of you! We will find dad, but until then, let’s just kill everything bad between here and there, okay?” You said looking between the two.

Sam sighed turning to Dean, “How far?”

——-

You were staring out the car window watching the scenery pass you by. You couldn’t help but wonder where your dad was or if he was even alive. You were fidgeting with your fingers, fighting back tears thinking of all of the different scenarios your dad could be in.

Dean glanced at you through the rear view mirror. He was already worried about you and he knew their dad missing would send you into a meltdown sooner than later.

You were incredibly family oriented and always wanted to make sure your family was taken care of. You didn’t like conflict because you would say that your family already lost one person, it doesn’t need to lose another. It didn’t do much good because there was always conflict with your dad. Then Sam walked out and it felt like just you and Dean for a while. It always hurt Dean’s heart because you were just a kid and he wished you didn’t have to grow up like that. He also knew that growing up like that was one of your main causes of your anxiety.

His thoughts were interrupted when he saw a tear slip down your face. He immediately reached back and put his hand on your leg.

“Hey kiddo,” he said as you made eye contact with him through the mirror, “what’s going on?”

You quickly wiped your tears not even meaning to shed one in the first place. “Do you think dads okay?” You asked.

His eyes softened, “I know he’s okay kid. Okay? Everything’s going to be okay. Trust me.”

You nodded, “Okay, yeah, I trust you De.”

He stole another glance at you. “Get some shut eye for me kiddo alright? We’ll be there in about 2 hours.”

You nodded and closed your eyes, letting sleep take over you

———

“Rise and shine kiddo, we’re here!” You heard Dean say.

The three of you got out of the car and walked up to Sophie’s house. Dean knocked on the door and another boy answered. You assumed it was her older brother.

“Will Carlton?” You asked.

“Yeah that’s right.” He replied.

“I’m Agent Ford, this is Agent Hamhill and Wilson. We’re with the U.S. wildlife service.” Dean said as he showed his fake I.D.

Will let you in and took you to the lake that claimed his sister.

You looked out and saw their dad sitting at the dock alone. You couldn’t help, but feel absolutely terrible for the man. It made your heart hurt knowing he was staring at the water that took his daughter’s life.

Your attention was brought back to will speaking. “She was about 100 yards out. That’s where she got dragged down,” he said softly.

“What makes you sure she didn’t drown?” Dean asked.

“She was a varsity swimmer. She practically grew up in the lake. She’s as safe out there as in her own bathtub.” He explained.

“So, no splashing? No sign of distress?” Sam asked.

“No, that’s what I’m telling you.” he shook his head.

“Did you see any shadows in the water? Maybe some dark shape breach the surface?” Sam questioned.

“No, again, she was really far out there,” he replied.

“You ever see any strange tracks by the shoreline?” you asked.

“No, never. Why? What do you think is out there?” Will asked.

“We’ll let you know as soon as we know,” you gave him a small smile, as you and Dean started walking off.

“What about your father?” Sam asked. You and Dean stopped, turning to Sam. 

“Can we talk to him?” Sam asked. You didn’t want to talk to his father. The sight of him already wanted to make you cry.

“Look, if you don’t mind, I mean, he didn’t see anything, and he’s kind of been through a lot,” Will explained.

“We understand,” Sam nodded and the three of you walked back to the Impala.

——-

“Now, I’m sorry, but why does the wildlife service care about an accidental driving?” the sheriff asked, walking all three of you to his office.

“You sure it’s accidental? Will Carlton saw something grab his sister,” Sam explained.

“Like what? Here, sit, please,” he said, motioning to three chairs across from his desk.

“There are no indigenous carnivores in that lake,” he said.

“There’s nothing even big enough to pull a person unless it was the loch ness monster,” the sheriff tried to joke not knowing how far off he might not be.

“Yeah, right,” Dean said, shooting us a look.

“Will Carlton was traumatized, and sometimes the mind plays tricks. Still, we dragged that entire lake. We even ran a sonar sweep just to be sure, and still there was nothing down there,” he explained.

“That’s weird, though. I mean that’s the third missing body this year,” you said.

“I know. These are people from my town. These are people I care about,” the sheriff sighed.

“I know,” Dean said.

“Anyways, all this. It won’t be a problem much longer,” the sheriff crossed his arms.

“What do you mean?” Sam asked.

“Well, the dam, of course,” the sheriff said.

You looked to Sam and Dean.

“Of course, the dam, it uhhh, it sprung a leak,” Dean said.

“It’s falling apart, and the feds won’t give us the grand to repair it, so they’ve opened the spillway. In 6 months, there won’t be much of a lake. There won’t be much of a town either, but as federal wildlife, you already knew that” the sheriff said.

“Exactly,” Dean replied.

“Sorry, am I interrupting? I can come back later,” you heard a voice from behind you.

You all turned around and noticed a smiling woman. The three of you stood up, ready to introduce yourself.

“Agents, this is my daughter,” the sheriff said.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m Dean,” Dean smiled, shaking her hand.

“Andrea Bar. Hi,” she smiled.

“Hi,” Dean whispered.

“They’re from the wildlife service, about the lake,” he explained.

She looked taken aback, “Oh,” she said softly.

You noticed a small kid behind her.

“Oh, hey! What’s your name?” You gave him a friendly smile. You’ve always loved kids and you’ve always been good with them. You guessed you were so good with them because Dean was so good with you.

He looked at the three of you before turning around and walking away. Andrea looked at us before following after him.

“His name is Lucas.” The sheriff said.

You continued to watch as you saw Andrea sit hand him crayons.

“Is he okay?” Sam asked.

“My grandson’s been through a lot, we all have.” He replied, walking to his office doors and opening them for you to leave.

“If there’s anything else I can do for you, please let me know.” He said.

“Thanks,” Dean said motioning you to walk in front of him. He guided you out and were met with Andrea again.

You let Dean have a moment with her because you could tell he wanted to flirt with her. You were more than okay with that though. She was so pretty and from what you could tell was incredibly sweet. She wasn’t like the waitresses who threw themselves at your brother.

He asked Andrea for directions and somehow got her to walk us there. You were walking next to Sam behind Dean and Andrea when you both overheard Dean, “Kids are the best huh?”

You and Sam both looked at each other and smirked.

“There it is. Like I said, two blocks,” she said, turning to face the three of you.

“Thanks,” Dean smiled.

“Must be hard with your sense of direction, never being able to find your way to a decent pickup line,” she said smirking at Dean as she walked away.

“Enjoy your stay!” She laughed. You liked her, she was funny.

You and Sam turned to each other snorting and holding in your laughs.

Sam turned to Dean, “ ‘Kids are the best’? You don’t even like kids,” Sam said flabbergasted.

“I love kids,” Dean said.

“Name three children that you even know,” Sam said. He saw Dean about to open his mouth when he added, “and you can’t say Y/N.”

Dean sighed and pulled you into his side, ruffling your hair. “I so can say Y/N.”

You pushed him away chuckling, “I’m 16!” You whined.

“You’ll always be a kid to me, kid.” Dean smirked. You shook your head smiling and playfully bumped into him.

He put his arm around you and the three of you walked into the motel.

——-

“So, there’s the three drowning victims this year,” Sam started.

“And before that?” Dean asked.

You sat next to Sam as he clicked through old news articles from his laptop.

“Uhhh yeah, six more, spread out over the past 35 years. Those bodies were never recovered either. If there is something out there, it’s picking up its pace,” Sam sighed leaning back in his chair.

“So, we got a lake monster on a binge?” Dean asked.

“This whole lake monster theory, it just bugs me,” Sam sighed.

“Why?” you asked. Dean stood behind Sam.

“Loch Ness, uhh Lake Champlain - there are literally hundreds of eyewitness accounts. But here, almost nothing. Whatever it is out there, no one’s living to talk about it.” Sam sighed. He opened up a list of victims. 

Dean squinted his eyes and pointed to the screen, “wait , Bar, Christopher Bar. Where have I heard that name before?” Dean asked, pointing to the screen.

Sam clicked the link on the article and it was a picture of Lucas. His hair and clothes were wet and he was wrapped in a towel.

“Christopher Bar was Andreas husband, Lucas’ father. Apperently he took Lucas out swimming, Lucas was on a wooden floating platform when Chris drowned. It took two hours before the kid go rescued.” Sam read off and zoomed in on Lucas’ photo.

You frowned. That poor kid, you thought. He must have been terrified.

“Maybe we have an eye witness after all,” Sam stated.

“That’s just terrible! No wonder he was so freaked out,” you said sympathetically.

“Watching one of your parents die isn’t something you just get over,” Dean stated.

You snapped your head in his direction. Something about that sentence just resonated with you. You knew he was most likely talking about your mother, but the way he said it made you think that he thought your dad was dead in a ditch somewhere.

You watched him closely and when he noticed you looking at him, he sent you a soft smile.

——-

“Can we join you?” Sam asked, spotting Andrea sitting on a bench.

“I’m here with my son,” she smiled.

“Oh, mind if I say hi?” you said, walking to him.

Sam and Dean sat next to Andrea, talking to her.

“Hey buddy! How’s it going?” you asked, squatting down to his level.

He continued sitting there, drawing when you noticed a bunch of toy soldiers next to him.

You chuckled, “my brothers used to play with these and then they passed them down to me” You smiled at the memory.

He continued to draw, ignoring you.

You sighed, sitting next to him. 

“So you like to draw?” You asked smiling down at him looking at his drawings.

“Wow these are pretty good! You could be an artist when you grow up.” You said grabbing paper and a crayon to join him.

“I always wanted to be an artist growing up,” you said softly.

He continued to ignore you.

“You know, I think that you can hear me, you just don’t wanna talk and that’s alright buddy,” you started.

“I don’t know exactly what happened to your dad, but I know it was something really bad. I think I know how you feel,” you said empathetically.

“I’ve been through it too.” You signed.

“Anyway, we’ll, maybe you don’t think anyone will listen to you, or uhh believe you. I want you to know that I will. You don’t even have to say anything, you could just draw a picture of what you saw that day, with your Dad on the lake,” you said.

He continued to draw.

“Okay, no problem. This is for you,” you gave him your drawing. It was of your family that you loved so much and wished we’re together.

“I think it’s a pretty good drawing if I do say so myself,” you chuckled.

“I’ll see you around Lukas,” you stood up to leave, giving him a pat on his head before walking away.

You walked over to your brothers and Andrea.

“Lucas hasn’t said a word, not even to me, not since the accident,” Andrea sighed.

“Yeah, we heard. Sorry,” Dean said.

“What are the doctors saying?” Sam asked.

“That it’s a kind of post-traumatic stress,” she sighed.

“That can’t be easy for either of you,” You said softly feeling bad for her family.

“We moved in with my dad. He helps out a lot,” Andrea nodded.

 She looked back at Dean.

“It’s just… when I think about what Lucas went through, what he saw….” Andrea said softly.

“Yeah, kids are strong. You’d be surprised with what they can deal with,” Dean gave a soft smile, glancing to you.

“I just wish…. oh hey, sweetie,” Andrea said, as Lucas walked up.

He handed you a drawing of a cabin.

“Thanks!” You gave him an encouraging smile.

He continued looking down and walked away.

——

“So, I think it’s safe to say we can rule out Nessie,” Sam said, walking into the hotel room.

“What do you mean?” you asked as Sam sat next to you and Dean.

“I just drove past the Carlton House. There was an ambulance there. Will Carlton is dead,” Sam said.

You gasped putting your hand over your mouth.

This was awful and now their father had lost both children.

“He drowned?” Dean asked.

“Yep, in the sink,” Sam replied.

“Oh my gosh, what?” you said, sighing.

“So, this isn’t a creature. We’re dealing with something else.” Dean said.

“Yeah, but what?” Sam asked.

“I don’t know. A water wraith maybe? Some kind of demon?” Dean suggested.

“Maybe it’s a spirit,” you said.

“Well we do know one thing. It has to do with Bill Carlton. I mean it took both of his children.” Sam said.

“Yeah, he has to be involved somehow,” Dean started.

“Wait, I’ve been asking around,” Sam said glancing at both of you.

“Lucas’ dad, was Bill Carlton’s godson,” Sam pointed out.

“Let’s go pay Mr. Carlton a visit.” Dean said standing up.

——

You saw Mr, Carlton in the same spot you saw him at last time. Sitting on the dock staring into the water. This time having lost both children. Your heart hurt for the man even more. This was so sad.

“Mr.Carlton? We’d like to ask you a few questions if you don’t mind,” Sam said, as you walked up to him.

“We’re with the department of-” Dean started.

“I don’t care which department you’re with. I’ve answered enough questions today,” he replied hastily.

“Mr.Carlton, your son said he saw something in that lake,” you started.

He continued staring out into the water.

“What about you? Have you ever seen anything out there?” You asked him softly trying to understand his pain.

“My children are gone, it’s worse than dying.” He said. “Please leave.”

You all nodded and walked away.

“He’s defientely been through hell, but I think he’s hiding something.” Dean stated.

Walking to the car, something just didn’t feel right to you. You glanced up and noticed the cabin

“Huh,” you started, pulling out the drawing Lucas drew, “Maybe Bill’s not the only one who knows something.” You finished, matching the cabin to Lucas’ drawing.

——

“I’m sorry, but I just don’t think it’s a good idea,” Andrea said.

“I just need to talk to him, for a few minutes,” you said.

“He won’t say anything, What good’s it gonna do?” she argued.

“Andrea, we think more people might get hurt,” Sam explained.

“We think something’s out there,” Dean said.

“My husband, the others. They just drowned, that’s all,” she said, getting upset.

“If you truly believe that, then we’ll go,” Dean started.

“But if you think there’s even a possibility that something else could be going on here, please let me talk to Lucas.” You finished Dean’s words. 

——

“Hey, buddy. Do you remember me?” you asked, taking a seat next to him.

He didn’t acknowledge you and continued to draw. You noticed his drawings, all of them were the same red bike.

“I just wanted to thank you for your last drawing, but I need your help again,” you said.

You took out the cabin drawing from your pocket and showed him.

“How did you know to draw this? Did you know something bad was gonna happen?” He continued drawing.

“Maybe you could nod your head yes or no for me,” you offered.

“You’re scared,” you noticed.

“It’s okay, I understand. I get scared too you know. I’ve seen some bad things happen and I was scared too. It’s alright to be scared, but it also helps to be brave. I try my best to be brave. It’s what helps me-“ He cut you off, handing you another drawing. It had the red bike, a boy, a church, and another house. 

“Thanks, buddy,” you smiled, taking the drawing and standing up.

“Thank you, Andrea,” you said, as the three of you walked off.

“You’re so good with Lucas, Y/N/N,” Dean said coming from behind you and rubbing your back.

You smiled softly, “I learned from the best.” You said, glancing at him.

He looked at you confused, “What is that supposed to mean?” He asked.

“I’m just so lucky to have you De. With dad gone, you’re the only person who hasn’t left my side my entire life. You’re the only constant and you raised me. I’m good with kids because your my role model.” You said.

Dean stopped walking and pulled you back into his chest. “Hey, everything’s going to be alright.” He said, hugging you, knowing you were feeling the effects of your dad being gone.

“I love you kid,” He gave you a big squeeze before letting you go.

“I love you too.”

The three of you got into the car and drove off.

—-

You looked over the drawing that Lucas gave you.

“Okay, so we have another house to find,” Sam said.

“There’s about a thousand yellow two-stories, houses in this county alone,” Dean groaned.

“See the church? I bet there’s less than a thousand of those around here,” you sassed.

Sam chuckled while Dean sent you a bitch face.

—-

You arrived in front of the church and found the little yellow house just like the drawing showed.

The three of you walked up to the house, knocking on the door. An elderly lady answered and invited you all in.

“We’re sorry to bother you, ma’am, but does a little boy live here by chance? He might wear a blue ball cap, has a red bicycle,” Dean asked her.

“No, sir. Not for a very long time. Peter’s been gone 35 years now,” she sighed.

“The police never…. I never had any idea what happened,” she explained, looking at a photo of him.

“He just disappeared,” she turned to the three of you. The pain in her voice made you want to cry. The elderly always got you good.

“Losing him, its, you know, it’s worse than dying,” she said shakily. You turned away as a tear slid down your cheek. You wiped it as fast as you could and turned back to her.

She looked down at the floor crying, reliving the memory of her son. You started gnawing on your lip so the tears didn’t start flowing again.

You decided to speak up to distract yourself. “Did he disappear from here? I mean, from this house?” You asked.

“He was supposed to ride his bike straight home after school, and he never showed up,” she replied. You nodded your head softly and looked around the room. You noticed a picture of Peter and another boy in the mirror.

You stared at the photo and then turned it over. 

“Peter Sweeney and Billy Carlton, 1970,” you read out loud.  

You all glanced at each other, connecting more of the dots.

“Thank you so much for your time, ma’am. And I’m very sorry for your loss.” You added as the three of you headed out the door.

——

“Okay so this little boy, Peter, vanishes and this is all connected to Bill Carlton somehow,” You started.

“Yeah, it kinda seemed like he was hiding something,” Dean replied.

“And Bill, the people he loves, they’re all getting punished,” you said.

“So maybe Bill killed him?” Sam suggested.

“Yeah, Peter’s spirit would be furious. I’d want revenge, it’s possible,” Dean agreed.

Dean drove down the now familiar road, back to the Carlton house. As the three of you got out of the car, you started looking for him.

“Mr, Calrton!” Sam yelled.

“Uhhhh guys,” you said, seeing Mr. Carlton on a boat, going out in the water.

“Crap,” Dean said as you all took off to the dock, yelling for Mr. Carlton to turn back.

“Mr. Carlton! You need to come back! Turn around!” You shouted.

“Turn the boat around! Get out of the water!” Dean and Sam yelled.

He looked back at the three of you and turned back around. He continued out and you saw what looked like an explosion. The boat was thrown airborne, being shot up into the sky. The three of you jumped and Dean tucked you into him trying to shield you from the loose pieces flying off. The impact threw Bill from the boat as it came crashing down on top of him and the lake swallowed everything up like it never even happened.

Dean was breathing heavily, “Damn it.” He said, letting you go.

—-

The three of you walked into the police station and saw Andrea sitting with Lucas. You noticed he looked incredibly upset.

“Sam, Dean, Y/N,” Andrea said, surprised to see you three.

“What are you doing here?” the sheriff asked her.

“I brought you dinner,” she replied.

“I’m sorry sweetheart, I just don’t really have the time,” he sighed.

She looked at the three of you and then back to her dad.

“I heard about Bill Carlton, is it true? Is something going on with the lake?” Andrea asked.

“Right now, we don’t know what the truth is, but I think it might be better if you and Lucas went home,” the sheriff said.

Lucas’ head shot up, he looked absolutely terrified. He ran to you, pulling on your sleeve.

“Lucas, hey. What is it? What’s wrong?” you asked, squatting down to be eye level with him.

He was staring you in the eyes almost like he was pleading with you. He continued to freak out and pull you.

“Lucas, it’s okay. It’s okay,” Andrea said, trying to pull him away from you.

“Hey, hey, Lucas. It’s okay,” you said rubbing his arm.

Andrea rushed him out of the police station. He turned back to you and continued his pleading look. You knew something was wrong.

You watched him leave, looking concerned before noticing the sheriff storm into his office obviously stressed out. The three of you followed behind him.

“Okay, just so we’re clear. You see…. something attack Bill’s boat, sending him, who is a very good swimmer by the way, into the drink and you never see him again?” The sheriff asked.

“Yeah, that about sums it up,” Dean replied.

“And I’m supposed to believe this even though I’ve already sonar swept that entire lake and what you’re describing is impossible and you’re not really wildlife service,” he added.

Uh oh. How did he find out?

“That’s right, I checked. The departments never heard of you three,” he said, crossing his arms.

“See, now we can explain that,” Dean started, looking at you and Sam for an answer.

“Enough, please. The only reason you’re breathing free air is one of Bill’s neighbors saw him steering out that boat just before you did. So we have a couple of options here. I can arrest you for impersonating government officials and hold you as material witnesses to Bill Carlton’s disappearance, or, we can chalk this all up to a bad day, you can get in your car, you put this town in your rearview mirror, and you don’t ever darken my doorstep again,” he said, raising his voice.

This was serious and you were getting kind of scared by his threats.

You looked at Sam.

“Door number two sounds good,” Sam replied. You and Dean nodded in agreement. 

“That’s the one I’d pick,” the sheriff practically growled.

——

As you were making your way out of town you just couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. Lucas was terrified and he was looking at you for help. You had to check on him.

“Dean, please. We need to go back,” you begged him.

“Y/N/N, I don’t think that’s a good idea. We told the sheriff we’re leaving,” Sam sighed.

“I know something is wrong! Please you saw his face, he was terrified!” You exclaimed.

“Please, let’s just check on him and then we can leave and never come back to this town ever again.” You said, trying to reason with your brothers.

Dean froze for a minute and turned right, going back into the town.

——

You walked up to Andrea’s front door with Sam and Dean.

“Are you sure about this?” Dean asked you, but trusting you completely.

Before you even had the chance to ring the doorbell, the door swung open. It was Lucas.

“Lucas? What’s wrong?” you said, panicking noticing that he was hyperventilating.

He ran up the stairs and pointed to a door that had water leaking from under it.

He started banging at the door. You pulled into you as Dean kicked the door open. He and Sam ran into the bathroom and pulled Andrea from the bathtub she was drowning in. You were hugging Lucas, trying to get him to calm down.

——

Sam was talking to Andrea as you and Dean tried finding some answers. It definitely wasn’t an accident that Peter went after Andrea.

You were looking through their books when you found one that had “Jake - 12 years old” on the cover.

You opened it and your eyes widened when you saw a picture of an old boy scout troop.

With the sheriff, and Bill Carlton.

“Dean,” you called out to him.

“Yeah,” he replied.

You tossed him the book.

—-

“Do you recognize the kids in these pictures?” Dean asked Andrea as he put the book on the table in front of her.

“What? Uh, no, except that’s my dad, right there. He must’ve been around 12 in these pictures.” She said looking at the photos.

“The connection wasn’t to Bill Carlton. It must’ve been to the sheriff,” Dean stated, looking between you and Sam.

“Bill and the sheriff, they were both involved with Peter,” Sam said.

You glanced to the side and saw Lucas looking out the window. Something was wrong.

“Lucas? Lucas, what is it?” You asked him.

He turned to the door, opened it and walked out. You all followed behind him.

“Lucas? Honey?” Andrea called from behind him.

He came to a halt in the middle of the yard and looked up at you.

You glanced at Dean.

“You and Lucas get back to the house and stay there.” Dean told Andrea.

Andrea nodded and pulled Lucas away.

The three of you took your shovels and started digging into the dirt. You heard a clang as you hit something.

You looked up at Sam and Dean before they pulled whatever it was out of the ground. 

It was a rusty, red bike. It was Peter’s red bike.

“Peter’s bike,” Sam said, out of breath.

“Who are you?” You heard the sheriff’s voice from behind you. The three of you turned around as he cocked his gun. Your heart dropped.

Immediately, Dean stepped in front of you, grabbing your arm and keeping you steadily behind him. He didn’t let you go, “wow, wow, hey.” He said to the sheriff trying to get him to put his gun down.

Sam glanced at you and then looked back at the sheriff.

“Put the gun down, Jake,” Sam said as he raised his hands up.

“How did you know that was there?” He asked, still pointing the gun.

“What happened? You and Bill killed Peter, drowned him in the lake, and buried his bike?” Dean asked.

“You can’t bury the truth, Jake. Nothing stays buried.” Dean finished still keeping you behind him.

Your heart was pounding. You’ve never had a gun pointed at you before.

“I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about?” The sheriff said, starting to get even more frustrated.

Holy crap, he was going to shoot one of you. He was seething with anger. You were so scared and knew you were trembling. You knew Dean could feel you shaking too because he gave your arm a reassuring squeeze.

“You and Bill killed Peter Sweeney 35 years ago. That’s what the hell we’re talking about,” Dean replied.

“Dad!” Andrea yelled, running up to all of you.

“And now you’ve got one seriously pissed off spirit,” Dean explained.

“It’s gonna take Andrea, Lucas, everyone you love. It’s gonna drown them. It’s gonna drag their bodies to God knows where, so you can feel the same pain Peter’s mom felt. And then, after that, it’s gonna take you, and it’s not gonna stop until it does,” Sam said.

“And how do you know that?” He asked.

“Because that’s exactly what it did to Bill Carlton,” Sam said.

“Listen to yourselves. You’re insane,” he said, continuing with the gun.

“We don’t really give a rat’s ass what you think of us, but if we’re gonna bring down this spirit, we need to find the remains, salt them, and burn them to dust,” Dean said.

“Now tell me you buried him. Tell me you didn’t just let him go into the lake,” He continued.

“Dad, is any of this true?” Andrea asked, her voice shaky.

“No, don’t listen to them. They’re liars and they’re dangerous,” the sheriff said.

“Something tried to drown me. Chris died on that lake. Dad, look at me,” Andrea yelled.

You peaked around Dean. Where was Lucas?

“Tell me you- tell me you didn’t kill anyone,” Andrea begged.

The sheriff sighed.

“Oh my God,” Andrea whispered in disbelief.

“Peter was the smallest one so we used to bully him. We held him under water a little too long and he drowned. We let go of his body and he floated into it. It was a mistake Andrea, we were kids. But to say I had something to do with these drownings because of some ghost? It’s not rational.” He pleaded with his daughter.

“Where’s Lucas?” You blurred out from behind Dean.

You heard Andrea gasp and look behind you. You turned behind you and saw Lucas by the water.

“Lucas!” You yelled as you all ran towards him.

As you got closer to him, you saw something pull him in and under.

“Oh my God!” Andrea cried.

You ran harder and pushed ahead. Once you got to the dock, you dove into the water. Dean dove in after you and Sam turned to Andrea.

“Andrea, stay there,” Sam yelled before diving in after you and Dean.

You swam and swam, pushing yourself all the way to the bottom of the lake trying to find Lucas. You couldn’t see anything because the lake was murky and your vision was blurry from the water. You felt around frantic at the bottom of the lake when you felt your lungs burning. You swam up and took in a huge breathe when you got above the water. You looked towards your brothers hoping that one of them had Lucas, but they were both empty handed.

You dove back down determined to save Lucas. You swam in the opposite direction when you see a blurry figure. You swam down ignoring the burning of your lungs that were begging for air and grab his arm. It was Lucas! You tried pulling him up, but had no luck. That’s when you noticed Peter below him, pulling him down. He didn’t care about you though, he just wanted Lucas so you kicked him in the head a few times. To your surprise it worked.

Peter let go of his hold on Lucas and you were able to yank him up. You pushed your legs harder, swimming up with Lucas. You were running out of energy and your whole body burned. You finally got to the top and clung onto the dock with Lucas in your other arm.

Dean was right there and pulled himself onto the dock, grabbing Lucas from your arms. You let out a gasp and was finally able to breathe. Your big gulp of air was cut short when you felt something grab your leg and pull you back under.

You panicked which was just about one of the worst things to do, but you weren’t prepared to be brought back down under the water. You were surviving off of a half breathe of oxygen and could feel your lungs start to burn. You thrashed at Peter, definitely not conserving your energy and definitely not doing what you were supposed to be doing during a situation like this. You couldn’t help, but panic. You didn’t want to die! You felt Peter drag you further and you let out a scream, bubbles floating above your head. You could feel your limbs growing heavier and your fight grow weaker.

As you were slipping away into nothingness, you felt Peter’s hold loosen and then disappear. Hope flooded over you as you felt arms around you pulling you back to the surface, but your lungs won and you took in a huge breath of water and everything went black.

Dean broke the surface with you and noticed how limp you were. This time Sam pulled himself onto the dock and grabbed you from Dean’s arms. He laid you down on the dock and immediately started CPR. Dean pulled himself over the dock and cradled your head, “Come on kid,” Dean cried as Sam was performing CPR on you, “Come on!” He was wiping your hair from your face as Sam continued trying to save your life.

“Wake up, let me see those big brown eyes that I love so much, yeah? Come on kiddo,” He pleaded.

Just as Sam finished a breath, you jolted to the side coughing up water and gasping for air. Sam sat back in relief, trying to catch his breath as Dean reached to pat you on the back.

“That’s it kid, that it. It’s alright, cough it all out.” He said. “You’re okay, your okay.” He reassured you as he noticed tears streaming down your face.

Your body was weak with exhaustion so you collapsed onto your back and took in one deep breath. The near death experience definitely traumatizing you as you looked at your brothers shivering. As Dean was taking off his leather jacket, you saw Lucas in Andreas arms and you softly smiled knowing you saved him.

“Hey bug I’m going to pick you up alright?” Sam asked you.

You looked up at him and nodded.

As he pulled you up, Dean handed him his jacket and Sam wrapped you up in it.

You were freezing cold and trembling in Sam’s arms as he walked to the car. “Hey, hey, you’re okay. I got you Y/N/N and I would never let anything happen to you. And neither would Dean. Ever.” He softly spoke. He knew that this was terrifying for you and his heart broke. You were just a kid.

Dean started the car and blasted the heat. Sam laid you in the backseat wrapped in Dean’s jacket and then took his own jacket off. He placed it on top of you and sent you a soft smile.

They both got in the car and drove back to the motel. Dean glanced back at you multiple times through the rear view mirror making sure that you were still okay.

——

The three of you walked to the Impala from the motel, getting ready to leave this town behind.

“Y/N, Sam, Dean,” you heard Andrea call out.

You turned around, seeing her and Lucas. “Hey!” You smiled seeing him.

“We just made you some lunch for the road. Lucas insisted on making the sandwiches himself,” she smiled down at Lucas.

“Can I give it to them now?” He asked. You smiled even bigger seeing that he was talking now.

“Of course,” Andrea replied.

“Well, let’s go load these into the car, yeah?” You reached out to Lucas to hold his hand. He grabbed it and you walked off together. Sam trailed behind you, giving Dean and Angela some privacy.

——-

“Alright, now that you’re talking, you have to remember this phrase. I want you to repeat it back to me,” you told him.

“Zeppelin rules!” he exclaimed.

“That’s right! Up high,” you gave him a double high five and chuckled.

Sam was looking at you smiling. You were an exact replica of Dean.

“Take care of yourself, Lucas,” you said and gave him a quick hug.

You looked to the side and saw Andrea give Dean a kiss.

You smiled and looked back at Lucas. 

“It looks like we’re leaving now. Stay brave, kiddo,” you said. He nodded, running off to Andrea.

“Let’s hit the road. We’re gonna run out of daylight,” Dean said, walking to the front seat.

“You’re blushing,” you teased.

“Shut up,” He chuckled and shook his head. All three of you got into the car.

“She was pretty, I liked her!” You said as Dean drove off leaving Andrea and Lucas in the distance.

[howlett-n-morgan]

Take Me Home

6. Down The Road

Arthur Morgan x Texas Red!Reader

A/n: i just was scrolling through tumblr and saw a post that a girl on twitter made and it was talking about a hot dad and I was like 'that's so me' and then at the end of the post it talked about how he called her miss aven and I threw my phone across the room because my name is also aven and i guess I am not the only one but anyways yeah all aven's are hot if ur name is aven ur hot.

Summary: The men of camp have begun to act strange, and Arthur seems to be the only one standing out... until a particular train job goes terribly wrong, then all bets are off.

Warnings: Not many, just some angst, canon typical violence, misogyny, and arguing... oh and some blood :)

WC: 12.5k (I went very insane last week)

He sensed your awkward reaches, even if he didn’t see them. He adjusted himself on the saddle before meeting your hands behind his back and pulling them around his sides to hold on. Your breath caught in your throat from how casually he’d done it, and how softly he touched you.  “That’s a nice flower in your hair, by the way,” he muttered, not even looking back before grabbing the reins and leading the horse out of camp. 

It was nearing fall again, and a year since you first arrived at camp, but things were beginning to get hectic. Not just with the attitudes of people in camp, but with the local law of Agua Fria getting more involved in the jobs the gang was pulling. You weren’t quite sure if you should be thankful for the distraction, or worried that it could make things worse for you. As far as you know, there’s not been bad feelings towards you, but there certainly weren’t friendly ones, either. It’s strange, since right after everyone found out your secret, they almost revered you in a way they hadn’t before. You supposed the walking on eggshells had to cease eventually.

The only people brave enough to talk to you now are Arthur and Hosea… you can’t say you don’t understand why. The lies finally caught up with most people, and it seemed to only get worse as time went on.

The men weren’t the only ones shunning you, either. The women, minus Tilly, were very straight and to the point if they had to speak with you, and if they didn’t, they just avoided you at any cost. 

It was beginning to feel more lonesome, almost like before you joined up with the Van Der Linde’s. 

The moment that all of it came to a head was around the campfire one night. You hadn’t spoken a word in fear of being over-talked or interrupted. You wouldn’t give anyone the satisfaction of cutting you off. 

Bill was the first to become irrationally drunk. Sean and Mac were next. You could swear Javier was drunk, too, but with every drink he took, his guitar rhythm never stuttered. Arthur was teetering on the edge of drunkenness, but the man was a unit, and it took a lot of alcohol to turn his mind. 

You felt relaxed enough to hit the bottle that Sean had set down, but then all eyes were on you. 

You forgot. The women don’t drink unless there’s a special occasion, though you aren’t quite sure why. You set the bottle down and let your eyes stay on the ground when you do until the conversation starts back up again. 

Arthur doesn’t really participate, he stays out of most of it, as do you. If you’re being honest, you don’t know why you sit at the fire with them anymore, because they don’t seem to give a shit if you do, and don’t seem to revere you like when they hadn’t been exposed to your secret. 

When the drunken chatter of the Agua Fria women comes up, you’re glad you took enough of a swig to boost your confidence. 

“I think they’re fine and what not,” Bill stumbles over his wording, barely making any sense. “Them girls in Charleston Town were better…”

“Better at what exactly?” You chimed in, finally taking part in the conversation.

“Screwin’, mostly… other things too I guess,” he coughed a little after speaking, taking yet another drink out of his mug. 

“Why’s it matter?” Sean started in, and though you understood he was a good kid and just mildly outspoken, you hated how these little talks seemed to only have started now that they knew about you. Almost like they’re pushing it in your face.

“Maybe because it don’t sit right with me, comparin’ girls like that,” you shook your head. It’s like talking to a sack of bricks, and it won’t change anything, but you try anyway. It angers you, how they used to talk about interesting things around the campfire. Sure, sex came up from time to time, but it was never just about their views of women and the only things they’re good for.

“You don’t needa worry, we ain’t comparin’ you,” Bill laughed, and even got the Calendar boys snickering under their breath. They should be keeping their mouths shut, since they were out of camp when everyone found out about you in the first place. They didn’t even realize it when they came back. 

“That’s because you’ve never had me,” you argued, and you could feel Arthur tense up beside you, almost like he was bracing himself for what he knew was coming. 

“I could if I wanted to.” The pure audacity, and all because of some drunken words. Bill was never your favorite amongst camp goers, but he’d grown on you when he got to know you as Charlie… Now it seems he hates your guts and will do anything to antagonize you. “I bet you’re nice n’ easy, huh darlin’?”

“You’re the last person in camp I’d let have me, jackass.”

Some colorful words for a pretty girl like you. At least Bill thought so. 

“You say that now… but I bet it didn’t take too much convincing to get you to spread 'em’ for Arthur,” he motioned to the gruff and stone-faced man beside you. 

“Knock it off, Bill,” Arthur chimed in, knowing that if he didn’t, the man would push you to your limits and then maybe you’d shoot him. Knowing that you didn’t miss your shots was a good reason to step in, even if he knew you could hold your own. 

“You can tell me, ol buddy,” Bill kept on, leaning forward. “Was it smooth as silk, or drier than the texas desert?” 

Everyone else in the circle was pretty damn quiet by this time, just watching as Bill repeatedly made a bigger fool of himself. They had participated, but only to a certain degree… but this felt too messy, and they didn’t wanna chance stepping in it. Especially where Arthur was concerned.

“I said knock it off,” Arthur was more stern, but felt the need to defend your honor further, and clear your name. “She ain’t done nothing with no one in this camp, ya hear me?” 

Bill let out a low and long whistle, looking back to you and seeing that your face was flushed. You were thankful for Arthur sticking up for you, but with the look on Bill’s face, it may have been just a touch too far. 

“Alright, Arthur… I believe ya,” he chuckled, eyes narrowing in while everyone still watched on. “You know, seein’ things clearly makes me think you’re the opposite of what I said.”

“What do you mean?” You furrowed your brow in concern. You should have never asked. 

“Boys,” he laughed out, nudging Mac to his left and slapping his knee in gleeful manner. “I’d say we’ve got ourselves a virgin.”

Your eyes widened, and immediately you were panicking. You’d never felt unsafe in the camp until right now, with the gaze of half the men in camp beginning to take you in as if it were for the first time. The way you reacted, they knew it to be true, and you weren’t sure what you could even say or do to hide it at this point. 

“You ain’t got any idea what you’re talkin’ about, Williamson,” you tried to defend, and Arthur jumped on the bandwagon. 

“That’s enough,” he grumbled, standing to his feet, offering you a hand to yours. “You’re all too damn drunk to even be livin’ right now.”

He issued a few less kind words that ushered them off to bed, and they dispersed from the circle, most of them to their sleeping arrangements. 

Arthur went with you to your tent, and at first you weren’t sure why he stayed so close. When you went inside and he tried to close the flaps you stopped him. 

“I can close up, I’m not quite tired yet…”

He gave you a respectful nod, but still held the flaps in his hand. “I just think that maybe you should close ‘em. I’ll stay outside here for a while just to make sure nothin’ happens,” he explained, but now you were fearful. 

“What would happen?” You ask with the same amount of fear creeping into your voice. 

“Nothin’, I won’t let it,” he assured you, but even though he brought some ease to your mind, he didn’t answer your question. 

“Arthur, what would happen to me?” 

“I don’t know… I don’t think they’re stupid enough to try anything, but…” he trailed, his voice leading off into a soft spoken tone.

“But?” 

“Bill is very drunk right now, and he’s had some problems in the past,” he didn’t want you to think Bill was some sort of evil man, but if only for right now, he wanted you to be cautious of him. “Just want you safe, is all.”

You looked at him for a moment before concocting an idea. Probably a bad one, but that remains to be seen. 

“Would you come sit with me a while?” 

He looked back outside the tent, where across the camp, a few of the men still lingered, watching from a distance. Looking back to you, he couldn’t say no. It’s been part of his new curse, unwilling to see you upset or in need of anything at all. He doesn’t even know why, but his brain won’t let him function like he used to. 

“I s’pose, but it’ll fuel their rumors that we…” he let his words fall off, but you knew what he was getting at. 

“That’s the point,” you told him, a nervous smile on your face. “If you don’t mind the rumors, that is.”

“M’not understandin’,” he shook his head. Wasn’t that the whole reason he had to interject in the first place? To clear your name of any intimate relations with him that had been suspected?

“Even if it’s just lyin, maybe they’ll leave me alone,” you explained. The thought of people thinking you were impure was a strange one, but you’re sure it beats the feeling of being hunted like prey. 

“Alright,” he nodded, looking at you with a decent smile. “Yeah, it’s alright with me, Red.”

You smiled in relief, suddenly all too focused on how he was looking at you. His hat was tipped slightly, so the brim framed his eyes in the moonlight from outside. You closed the flaps and sat back down with him, trying to think of something to say. 

“How long do you think we oughta stay in here for?” 

He shrugged, leaning back against the furthermost tent pole. “For them to actually believe it? I’d say a few hours…”

“Oh, really?” you teased, crossing your arms and giving him a cynical look. 

He smirked, nodding his head around some. “I’m only kiddin’... mostly. But you can kick me out whenever it suits you.”

“So long as you’re willin’ to help me, stay as long as you want.”

He smiled again, genuinely, and though he could barely see your face in the dim light of the closed tent, the small hole in the fabric ceiling made for the prettiest glow in your hair. He got to thinking, and of course that’s a dangerous thing, but he had to ask. 

“If you don’t mind sayin’ so… why haven’t you uh-?” His gesture towards the campfire outside, still going but soon to be snuffed out by the desert winds. 

“Honestly?” you searched the files of your mind for something that didn’t sound too privileged. You knew you had it good growing up, and no one here could compare, but you still had issues that eventually changed your entire life. “My mother taught me to save myself for my husband.”

“Oh,” he furrowed his brow. Your wild and careless nature didn’t match what you were saying. “I didn’t take you for someone who would.”

“I’m not… but, I’ve been Charlie Brooks ever since I ran away, and no one ever knew me otherwise until you.” 

He seemed surprised, but it did make sense when he pieced it all together. You’d gotten so good at playing the role of a young man, that countless people believed it. So much so, that you’d never been able to take a lover, though multiple women tried.

“And what about now? You ever thought of it?” He asked gently, his questions, though a bit intrusive, didn’t feel hard to answer. You knew he was curious, and after what just took place, you felt you owed him at least a few things to be resolved. 

“I have, a few times,” you admitted, your voice becoming softer when you realized what you were about to share. It didn’t really matter, though, you trusted him more than anyone else in this world as it were, and knew he wouldn’t mock you. He acts all tough, but he’s a soft and gentle creature deep down. “I think I’m still gonna wait until I can give it to someone I love.”

He dipped his head. He definitely understood, and only wished he’d been wise enough to do the same. There was a time in his life before where he wishes he’d waited for a certain girl… but that was ages ago, and he knows his count is higher than it should be. 

“Do you think you’re close to findin’ that someone?” his voice was just above a whisper, now, and he knows that the question he’s asked is risky. He doesn’t know if he wants to know the answer, but without thinking, you give it to him. 

“Real close,” you told him, looking down at your hands when his dim-lit stare became too much.

“Yeah?” he smiled, genuinely and with a hope he hadn’t felt in a while. 

You nodded to him, tilting your head as you took him in. Not tonight… you’re not ready, and you know you won’t be for a while. It’s just then, however, that you’ve decided it will be him. You nearly decided that on the day you first arrived at camp. That day when he teased you and you swore on your life that you didn’t like him all that much… but then the very next day he went and surprised you. His kindness and gentleness will never be forgotten. 

“Thank you for doing this, Arthur. I know I’m probably dooming you to a whole list’a questions tomorrow, but I’m grateful.”

“You don’t needa thank me,” he shook his head, being his generous and benevolent self. “I’ll always help you, whatever ya need.”

You stayed silent for a moment until he chuckled under his breath. “What?”

“Oh nothin, just thinkin’ of the look on Bill’s face tomorrow.”

You gave it a single thought and it made you laugh, too. It would probably be a terribly inappropriate slew of nasty questions after a round of congratulations, but he would deal with it, not you. 

You crawled over next to him, sitting on the ground by his side, and leaning your head on his shoulder. He didn’t mind, nor did he say anything. He just picked up your hand that was laying strewn on your lap, and threaded your fingers together. It was a silent action, but both of you understood immediately what it meant. We’re gonna be something, just give it time.

You sighed in contentment and turned your head to look at him. His profile stared on into the edge of the tent wall, until he could feel your eyes on him. He looked back down at you, but didn’t make a move. That’s not what tonight was about, and there would be plenty of time for all of that soon, he was sure of it. He squeezed your hand and turned back to face the tent wall, dipping his hat a little. Maybe he’d fall asleep here, and it would be the perfect crime scene for everyone to experience the next morning. You’d no doubt let him slumber here throughout the night, but you’d likely drag him into the bed, knowing how sore his back got every now and then. 

You wanted to make sure he was comfortable, you wanted to take care of him. You knew by now all of his little quirks and strange necessities, and were willing to bend over backwards to make sure he got them. You were willing to do anything it took to make sure he smiled at you like he’d just done seconds ago, to keep that look on his face whenever your eyes met, even in a crowded room. 

You’d lasso the moon for him if he asked, and pull it down so he could know its beauty from a closer perspective. You’d come to the conclusion that no matter which way you framed it, you were in love with Arthur Morgan. Had been for some time, but denial was a strong presence within you, and you were stubborn as hell when it came to admission.

You both eventually fell asleep like that, leaning against each other on the ground, and no effort of getting into the bed came about.

-

Bill’s face was indeed priceless, but you think you got more of a laugh from Sean. You didn’t even need to see his face, you heard his hollering from across the camp. You’d been cleaning rifles when the other redhead’s bellowing voice made you giggle. You’re sure that Arthur was annoyed as hell, but you’ll thank him for putting up with everything later. 

The strangeness of the men lingered only a bit longer, but when a few days passed, and Arthur started acting more protective out of nature towards anything that was said about you, they backed off. In their minds, you were Arthur’s girl… Off limits to everyone else.

There were of course more than just the men who had heard about your ‘all nighter’ with Arthur.

The women, albeit a bit nosy, were actually quite fun to gossip with. It seemed like faking the loss of your innocence with Arthur did wonders for the whole camp and their acts of shunning you. Did it bother you? Only slightly… it would have been worse if you’d actually gone through with it and appeased the camp

“Is he a good kisser? He did kiss you, right?” and “Did it hurt? I bet it hurt, he’s a big man…” were your favorite contenders for questions asked. You did as you needed to, alluding to the facts without actually saying anything of substance. To be very clear, nothing happened in the tent that night, or in the morning before he left. You had no actual idea if anything you were hinting at was true, but that was the fun of it. 

“You measured your cycle, didn’t you? You don’t wanna end up like me,” Abigail chimed in, Jack thrashing around on her hip while he cried. He was a sweet baby, but sometimes he was just a mess to deal with, and being in a camp full of outlaws didn’t help anything. 

“Yeah, I did…”

“Did he uh… prepare you first?” Karen chimed in with her own curiosities, and a small giggle followed. They knew that Arthur was the best of the men, and he was good to women… but none of them had gotten up close and personal proof of that fact. 

“Yes?” You answered with a bout of confusion… preparation? Your mother never mentioned nothing about damn preparation.

“Lucky girl,” she sighed out, her eyes rolling dramatically. “You really are, I hope you know. Arthur’s the best of the men.”

“Oh I know, trust me,” you snickered at just how lucky you were. These girls were drooling over the details you gave them. All were false, but you knew he’d own up to every single one of them, because he was just that good and kind to you. He was like a loyal dog, Dutch said, and he was right. You were more than lucky to have his care and protection, and it started to feel intimate in a way that sex never could. 

There was a word for that, you think… devotion. 

“So, are you Arthur’s girl, now?” 

That one caught you off guard, because even with a fake answer, you weren’t quite sure what to say. 

“I don’t… I don’t know,” you answered truthfully for the first time that morning, and it was almost refreshing to speak something that wasn’t just a blatant lie. 

“It was just a one off, then?” Abigail furrowed her brows. Since she’d rejected Arthur’s offer, she’d been starting to feel some regret. He was indeed the best of the men, and she’d turned him away in favor of a man who left her. How silly that was… but she knows it’s too late, now.

“I hope not,” you said nervously, again with truth.

“You’re fond of him, we can all tell…” 

You looked at them with surprise and a bit of alarm. “Since when?”

Karen leaned in on her elbows with a small giggle at your reaction. She quieted herself as to not draw more attention to this side of camp, in fears Miss Grimshaw would come force them all to start back on the chores. 

“It’s funny, when we found out you weren’t a boy, everything kinda made sense,” she chuckled. 

Abigail kept nodding along, her smile broadening. “You used to follow him around like a puppy, we all thought it was because you looked up to him, wanted to be like him.”

“Even I could tell, and I’d been pretty blinded by my own fondness of you,” Tilly joked, nudging you in the arm as you’d come to the realization that even under the guise of Texas Red, you had absolutely no subtlety. 

“Was it that obvious?” you asked in annoyance with yourself. You dipped your head into your hands when they all nodded in the affirmative. 

The girls were about to start round two of questions when Dutch and Hosea came out of the center tent, Dutch commanding the attention of all the members in the camp. 

“Everyone, listen up!” His large and brutal steps seemed angry, and you waited patiently to find out why. “We’re moving camp!”

Everyone was immediately caught up in the new announcement, conquests of nights past becoming completely forgotten. Questions of ‘Why?’ and ‘What happened?’ were uttered, as this seemed very sudden. The cash flow from Agua Fria was rather booming, and it didn’t seem like there needed to be a move. 

“I’ve just gotten word from Davey that the Pinkertons know we’re here. They’re looking for the camp as we speak, so we’ve got to go.”

His intense speech was followed by everyone leaving where they were, running around and trying to get things packed into the wagons, tents included. 

You were new to the ‘being on the run’ part of outlaw life, as even before when you were just a gunslinger, the law never chased you. You’d earned a reputation for killin’ folk, but the law deemed you harmless when they found out that you only shot those who wanted to shoot you first. You’d not ever committed a real crime among the citizens, and even paid your way for everything. It was only after becoming a Van Der Linde that you figured you were about to be in trouble. 

You had your entire living situation torn down and packed up within the hour, tying it all together and slinging it in the back of Arthur’s wagon. You came around the corner and saw that he was still packing up. Being here longer meant he had quite a few more belongings to take care of. 

“Need some help?” You smiled at him, ready to lend a hand. 

“You done already?” He responded to your question with one of his own, pleasant surprise in his expression. 

“Not much to pack away,” you reasoned, no longer waiting for him to answer you as you started dismantling his cot and rolling up the canvas around the iron bar pieces. 

You were happy to help him get done faster, you’re sure with his strength and size he’d be needed elsewhere soon. You did have a few questions for him, though. 

“I don’t think I ever asked… When did you all get here?”

“Not long before you did, I reckon. We used to be able to stay years in the same spot, the law would never catch us…” he shook his head, tossing some picture frames he had into a sack. “Times are changin’ for folk like us.”

“You were here before me?” You asked in confusion. Obviously they were at the camp before you… but you’d been in Agua Fria for over a year yourself. 

“Yeah, and we’d all heard the stories about Texas Red before we even met ya,” he chuckled, his speed increasing the more he saw other members of camp rushing with panic to get moving before sundown. “The day Dutch brought you back, I almost thought he was kiddin'.”

“Glad to know I made a good impression,” you teased, a laugh being huffed out with slight annoyance while you heaved his clothing chest up and into the wagon. Probably a heavier item you should have left for him, but then that wouldn’t be helping. 

“I didn’t mean it like that.” He assisted you in shoving the chest further in the wagon, since you struggled just slightly, and didn’t want to bend over in your skirt. “I just had it in my head that you’d be all big n’ scary.”

“You mean more like you?” you taunted, giving him a smirk to show you didn’t actually think he was big and scary. 

“I guess so,” he shook his head, throwing his sack of belongings in with the other junk. “But then I first saw you, talkin’ with Tilly and Abigail… you looked all scrawny and what not. I thought, this can’t be the kid I’ve been hearin’ about.”

“And what do you think of me now?” You asked honestly, stopping the haste of the afternoon for only a moment to share a gaze with someone special to you. He stopped too, a side smile pulling at his lips when he answered. 

“I think you’re much scarier, now…” he trailed, reaching his hand to touch your hair where it had grown just below your ears. 

“You think I’m scary?” You raised your eyebrows in disbelief, his eyes meeting yours. 

“Terrifyin’...”

He started to get closer, and in the setting light of the day, you almost thought he might close the small gap, but then-

“Arthur!” Pearson’s shrill voice rang out loudly, and you flinched away from the moment, coming back to reality. “I need you over here!”

“Just give me a damn second!” He shouted back, but by the time he’d turned his attention to you again, you’d jumped away from him from the startle, and the moment was cut short. “I better get over there…”

“I’ll finish up for you,” you waved him off, moving to the barrel with his shaving kit. It was one of the last things that needed packing. 

“I’ll owe ya,” he nodded, tipping his hat forward before having to run off. 

He wouldn’t owe you a damn thing. 

-

The gang traveled north and west for several days, until coming to a clearing in a nice little town called El Paso. What could be so great about this town? Well, for starters, the law was mighty thin in this region, and there were roads nearby that had rich folk traveling as well. Dutch said it was like an outlaw’s paradise… 

He’d also mentioned there was a railway station in the next town over, something to look into. 

Arthur had done so right away, leaving the newly set up camp for a few days to scope out the area and put on a good cover. He was always the best man for the job, so you couldn’t complain about him being away, but there was of course a downside. Neither you nor Arthur pulled a stunt in the new camp like you had at the old one, and with him being gone, it gave the men a bit of leeway to behave as they did before. 

It wasn’t as sexual as it had been, but their bad attitudes towards you, and now that you’re seeing it, the other women as well, was atrocious. You’d been so blind to it all when you didn’t have to deal with it first hand, but now that you did, it was constant. 

Bill was the worst, as you knew him to be. He often didn’t even wait for Miss Grimshaw to collect the laundry anymore, just throwing dirty shirts and trousers in your direction and telling you he needed it cleaned the next day. 

“Not my job, not my problem,” you threw the articles of clothing at him every time, and every time he’d just scoff and go to the next woman, who would do as she was told because, even though you’d lucked out in skill, the others still had to earn their keep somehow. 

Lucking out in skill didn’t even seem to be helping you recently. Every job you suggested you could help with, Dutch turned you down. It had even caused a fight with Hosea, who wanted you to go in his place. 

Hosea had kept his distance with you when your secret was first revealed. Not to be cruel or unfair, but because you’d been embarrassed about the whole thing, and he could sense you didn’t want to open up to anyone right away. 

He did, however, become far more acquainted with you on the journey to El Paso. 

“I think you’re a mighty brave person, you know,” he’d struck up the conversation. 

“Me? Brave? I just shoot folk,” you shook your head, watching the horses in front of you both as they towed the wagon you sat on. “Ain’t nothin’ brave about that.”

“Not for shootin’ folk… I think you’re brave for bein’ on your own as long as you were. Especially a young woman.”

“Well, I appreciate you sayin’ so… but nobody knew I was a young woman, it sort of helped.”

He’d nodded sweetly, giving you a smile and a pat on the shoulder. The gentle and comforting talks between you became common from then on. 

Arthur had come back to the camp one morning, when everyone had woken, bringing a few different things. His first stop was Dutch, obviously, giving the intel over so a plan could be formed. The next job was going to be important. If it went down well, then this little town could be a great place to settle for the months to come, but if not, it would allow you all to know just how involved the law in this town actually was. You’d heard it wasn’t much. 

When Arthur came out of Dutch’s tent, he made a beeline to you… or more specifically, your tent. He actually didn’t even see you sitting across from your living quarters when he approached it, but you watched him with great curiosity on what he was doing. He’d been distant since leaving Agua Fria and arriving here, and you wondered if he was trying to rectify that. 

He left your tent just as quick as he went in, and met your eyes with a small nod and a soft smile. He’d been caught. He just went on his way after that, and didn’t even bother to greet you properly. 

You furrowed your brows, dropping the rifle you were cleaning before going inside your tent. He obviously didn’t take anything, you knew that. You didn’t keep anything of value except for your pistol, thirty-two notches now carved into the stock, but you always kept it on you...

When you looked at your cot, you found only one thing out of place. A pretty orange flower laying against your rolled up woolen blanket. Its bottom petal was slightly bent, and you wondered if he had kept it in his satchel on the ride back to camp. 

It was very sweet of him to think of you, and bring it back. You don’t think you’ve ever told him how much you like the color orange, but you reckon he just brought back the flower without even thinking about the color. 

You wanted to go and thank him, to talk with him for the first time in several days. You missed him whenever he was gone… you always hoped he missed you, too. He probably missed everyone, but he brought you an orange flower.

He was somehow already on the other side of camp, hassling Pearson about something nonsensical you’re sure, getting the man riled up over probably nothing. Pearson was a decent guy, but he was a little obnoxious, so teasing him was something you could definitely condone. You thought about just marching up and breaking up the scene, but then thought it might be better to instead make a lesser deal of it, just like he did. 

The men left the flower with no words to be said, so you’d thank him for it the same way… unless of course he broke the silence first. 

You tucked the flower behind your ear, letting the orange color sit nicely against the similar shade of your hair. You ran over to Arthur’s shaving barrel, close to the edge of your living area, and checked how it looked before walking nonchalantly towards Pearson’s kitchen. 

They were still grobbling over nothing, but when you came to the table, leaning forwards on it they both stopped. 

“What can I do ya for, miss?” Pearson asked, having become a much kinder, albeit a little bit more sarcastic person to you since your secret came out. 

“Just wondering what’s for dinner tonight…”

“How about that, Arthur, she wants to know what’s for dinner,” the man laughed, hands on his hips when he looked back to the younger counterpart. 

“I’m goin, I’m goin,” he held his hands up in mock surrender, clearly knowing he was the one responsible for hunting today. He’d just gotten back, but of course they made him do damn near everything. “You wanna come with me, Red?” 

“Me? Huntin’? I’ve never been, I’d probably scare ‘em off…” you resisted slightly, but knew that if he asked you a second time there would be no hesitation. 

“I’ll teach ya,” he offered, nodding his head towards the horses. “Not like they’d get far with your shootin’, anyway.”

You followed him immediately, picking up your skirt and rushing up behind him. Hunting with Arthur seemed like a mighty good idea at first, until you realized Dutch would probably be upset with you for not finishing the rifles… Tossing it over in your head for only a moment more, you neglected the prospect of the rifles. 

You could tell that Dutch was slowly trying to keep you out of the shooting jobs, even if you were the fastest gun in camp. Somehow learning you were not a man had tainted his idea of you… the one he’d spoken so highly of that first day to Arthur and Hosea. You supposed that going along with Arthur could only help you in the long run. 

You went to saddle your horse, but he stopped you, a gentle hand on your wrist, letting go as soon as he had your attention. “We don’t need ‘em both, just ride with me.”

You nodded, doing as you were told and trying not to make a big deal out of it. He’d helped you up first, hands placed carefully at your waist when he heaved you upwards. He climbed up in front of you, and suddenly you didn’t know where to put your hands. You’d never ridden behind a saddle before, you never needed to. 

He sensed your awkward reaches, even if he didn’t see them. He adjusted himself on the saddle before meeting your hands behind his back and pulling them around his sides to hold on. Your breath caught in your throat from how casually he’d done it, and how softly he touched you. 

“That’s a nice flower in your hair, by the way,” he muttered, not even looking back before grabbing the reins and leading the horse out of camp. 

-

The train job had been decided, but not without long and strenuous arguments about the roles to be played. 

The first draft of said plan excluded you, and you didn’t even have to wonder why. None of the other women were included, either. 

The second draft of the plan included both you and Abigail, but as mere pawns instead of actual roles. 

The final plan will go as follows:

Abigail is going to make it so that a certain man never boards the train with his colleague. Fair enough, she is definitely the woman for the job, as even having her in the near vicinity of a man is distraction enough. You will board the train with the colleague, and lead him to believe that you’re frightened of the journey ahead, getting him to drink with you and become more ‘comfortable.’ After that, it’s up to you to lure him to the back of the train, where Arthur, Bill, and Dutch will be waiting to interrogate this man, and find out where his private safe is. From there, Javier, who will be at the front of the train, will cause it to stop by sticking up the enginemen so you all can hop off at a designated point. 

From there you’ll go find the man’s safe, and rob him before he even has a chance to understand what’s happened to him. This is the only chance you will have at this job, since the man in question will be leaving El Paso once and for all.

It sounds like a solid plan, except for the fact that it was suggested you don’t even need a gun. 

“Of course she needs a gun, Dutch, she’s the fastest one here,” Hosea argued, a hand running over his face. 

“If we’re not planning on shooting, what makes you think she needs to bring it with her? It could blow our cover,” Dutch insisted, arms waving around for emphasis. He didn’t even make a good point, because as it were, you always kept a gun on you in the holster on your thigh, a little present from the man you gave you flowers. 

“You’re sending her to do the most dangerous part of the job, she needs a weapon.”

“If Abigail doesn’t need one, then she doesn’t need one, either,” Dutch reasoned, but that just made you chime in. 

“Abigail should have one, too. Everyone involved on a job should have protective assurance, just in case,” you shrugged, uncrossing your arms and leaning on the table. “I don’t even leave camp without my pistol.”

Dutch sighed, having dug himself into a deeper hole the more he kept on talking. He was smart, and he had a way with words, but he wasn’t going to be able to pull something like this and now he knew it. You’d been attached to that pistol for far longer than you have been to the camp. 

“Alright,” he nodded, continuing his explanation of what happens after they find the man’s personal safe. 

The man in the plan was named Albert Templeton, and he apparently was a very wealthy man, looking to make it big in the west by covering as many territories as he could with his canning factories. From what Dutch says, he seems to be a very selfish, very ambitious, and very rich man. 

You agree to this job, unknowing of the way it will unfold, but when you finally board that train, handing over your ticket with your hands shaking, you don’t know what to do, suddenly. 

Everything is going according to plan, except for the fact that you have absolutely no experience in trying to get a man drunk on purpose. 

“You look, a bit frightened, miss, are you alright?” Mr. Albert Templeton asked, right after you ‘accidentally’ bumped into him. 

“Yes… Well, no… I’ve never been on a train before,” you huffed out, your stressed tone coming across perfectly for the job. “You seem like you’ve been on many.”

“That I have, my dear,” he smiled eerily, moving an unwanted hand to your hip to try and guide you to the bench he was sitting at. “Come and sit with me, perhaps I can ease your mind.”

“How gracious of you,” you played along, sitting down beside him in the seat closest to the window. You didn’t like feeling trapped between him and the wall, but there was no difference. You still had a gun up your leg if he tried anything stupid. 

“So, where are you headed?” 

“Oh,” you had forgotten to think of a backstory, so as quickly as you could, you made one up. “I’m going to visit my aunt. She’s very Ill, otherwise she would have come to see me. She knows I don’t like trains.”

“How unfortunate for her,” he nodded, snaking his arm behind you on the back of the bench seat, caging you in further. “I’m sure she’ll be happy for your company.”

“I hope so, we’ve always been a great comfort to one another.”

The conversation kept on like this for a while, until you realized you were getting closer and closer to the point of which Dutch needed him in the back, but he hadn’t even gotten to the bar of the train car yet. 

“Would you have a drink with me, sir? I feel that maybe it would ease my nerves a bit.”

He laughed, a smile on his face when he leaned back to you. “I never drink on trains. But I would be much obliged to buy you one, yourself.”

You started to panic from there. 

You smiled at him and nodded, getting him to stand up… however, before you got him to the bar, you tried to carefully and quietly take your gun from its holster, pressing it against the rib of the man before you. He froze, knowing what was happening immediately. 

“Don’t make a sound. Just keep walking until I tell you to stop, you hear?” 

He nodded, making his way to the end of the car, going into the next one, and the next one after that until you could see three familiar faces sitting and waiting for you. 

“What the hell is this?” Dutch asked, his eyes narrowing in on the gun in your hand. 

“He wouldn’t drink, had to come up with something else.”

Arthur ran a hand over his face. This is why you usually rode with him. You did things the way he would, and not with the gentle and intelligent touch of a female outlaw like Abigail. For all intents and purposes, you'd always been a man, and this was breaking the cycle for you.

“Please don’t hurt me, I have nothing you could want.”

“The hell you don’t,” Dutch manhandled Albert onto a cargo box, pulling his own gun and holding it to strike fear into the man. “We’ve heard about the safe.”

“What safe?” He played dumb, and then Dutch immediately got angry. 

“You see? This is why he needed to be drunk!” Dutch took out his anger for the situation on you, even though the majority of this was not your fault. 

“Told ya, she should be back at camp fixing buttons and shit with the others,” Bill shook his head, and you were about to pull your gun in his direction if he said another word. 

“He wouldn’t drink, it ain’t her fault. She still got him to us… I say we make him talk,” Arthur stood up, clenching his fists and intimidating the man by coming closer. “S’nothing I ain’t used to.”

“Do what you can, Arthur… and you,” Dutch pointed in your direction, his brow still angry. “Go back up there and make sure no one saw you pull that gun.”

You nodded, taking yourself away from the scene in order to keep your composure. Arthur stood up for you, but you could tell that even he was upset about straying from the plan. This was a big job, with many key elements. One thing going wrong could ruin it all.

You made your way back, but saw Javier rushing towards you in the bar car, his gun out as he tried to reach you. 

“Brooks,” he started to shove you back to the car you came from, and just over his shoulder you could see the men trailing not too far behind, looking like train security. “We have to go, they know we’re here.”

You started rushing for the last car again, tripping over your skirts here and there. This dress was not practical, and was far too formal for a job like the one you were pulling. You much preferred the one Arthur bought you, but Dutch insisted it didn’t ‘sell the story’ that you were trying to tell. 

“Why in God’s name are you back here?” 

Dutch didn’t have a minute to grill you, because Javier took the floor first. 

“They know we’re here, there’s about five men heading this way, now. Maybe more.”

Arthur sighed heavily, pulling his fist back to his side. He’d only hit Mr Albert Temlpeton a few times, but it seemed the job was going south, and he hadn’t said anything anyway. 

“Arthur, turn him loose, the rest of you, find cover… we’re gonna have to shoot our way out.” 

Albert taking off through the doors only allowed the train guards to know exactly where you all were hiding. With guns blazing, the five of you were able to get past the small group that had headed for you… but once you got to the civilian travel cars, there were more, and they had bigger guns, too. You got scared to pull a gun in a heavily crowded train car, especially one that had innocent men, women, and children inside. You held your aim, like always, but got scared when the second round of guards came for you. 

“Drop your weapons!” The man at the front of them shouted. “Get on the ground, now!”

“Or maybe we could walk right through,” Dutch was the first to shoot, nailing the man right in the face. It was challenging to stay focused on the task at hand, when so many people were screaming. 

A child was crying, and most everyone was just trying to duck in their seats as the bullets flew. You were too scared to shoot at first, seeing the windows break around you, and the high speed of the train causing the winds to blow inside the car, making it hard to hear anything. 

You tried to hold your ground, knowing you were a better shot than anyone here… but there comes a time in everyone’s life, when the chaos prevents them from doing the one thing they know how to… this was that moment for you. Everything was caving in. You’d completely ruined this job, and it was going haywire because of you. You put your friends, no, family, in a very dangerous position, and most of all, you put innocent men, women, and children on the front lines to fend for themselves. All because you strayed from the plan. 

You saw it, but it was too late… the man had pulled his gun directly towards you, and you barely had any time to react this time. You still fired first, and still shot him dead first, but his bullet still left the barrel, skewing downwards because of your own shot, and hitting you directly by your left hip. 

You collapsed into a seat, trying to get yourself back up. You started bleeding profusely with every steep movement you made, and once the last Guard had been shot down, Arthur saw what happened to you. 

“Red!” he shouted, reaching for your body, making sure you’d not been hit badly. He was relieved to see it was a hip shot, but the amount of blood concerned him greatly. “Can you stand?” 

“I can try,” you groaned out, holstering your gun before using him as a lift. 

The others went to the front of the car, not wasting any time, but as soon as they looked through the broken window, they could see more men quickly approaching.

“Shit, we can’t stop the train.” 

“We’ll have to jump from the back of this car,” Javier responded to Dutch, who was pacing back and forth, glaring daggers at you out of the corner of his eyes. 

“Are we close enough to the exit point?” 

“It doesn’t matter, the ground is even now, we need to jump before the bridge.”

Arthur was freaking out, trying to hold pressure to your hip and hold you upright, while they were talking about jumping off a train. He doesn’t think he’s ever been so stressed out about a job before. 

You start to get light headed suddenly, and sway in his hold, trying to keep yourself balanced, though the train is making it hard to do that anyways. 

The sound becomes fuzzy, but you can here when Dutch calls everyone back to the door of the cabin car. 

“Stay with me,” Arthur tells you, watching your head tilt forward and your eyes get heavy. He knew you would pull through, because even though you were losing a decent amount of blood, you were still on your feet, moving along with him. You were a fighter, he’d known since he met you. Probably because you liked fighting him on damn near everything he said. 

He stood at the edge of the rail, the only thing separating the gang from jumping the transport was a little dingy chain that hooked onto the edge of the cabin car. 

“It’s up here!” Javier shouted, removing the chain and getting ready to disembark. 

“We gotta jump, Red,” he tried to keep you conscious, and you nodded, but you were clearly too weak to do this yourself right now. 

You felt yourself being tucked closer to Arthur, his arms coming around you. You finally closed your eyes, unsure if they would even stay open on their own anymore. Then there was a lift and a jump. You felt the air around you flying fast until the wind got knocked out of you, hitting the ground. Arthur took the harder fall, but to be fair, he hadn’t been shot. 

You opened your eyes in a rush of adrenaline, but once you caught your breath, it started to fade again. 

Everyone stood up, including you, but you were still wobbling back and forth. 

“Well,” Dutch looked to Bill and Javier, “We’re alive, but we got nothing.”

“S’all the girl’s fault,” Bill spat out some blood from his bleeding lip and shook his head. 

You didn’t even have the motivation to call him out right now. Didn’t have the energy to stand, either. Before Arthur could even steady you, your head started throbbing, and you hit the ground again, hand over your open wound.

-

The sounds were familiar when you came to. The usual ruckus of the camp, nothing strange or out of the ordinary… except for when you tried to sit up you were immediately pushed back down. You had a look around and saw that you were not in your tent, but lying in Arthur’s cot. His gentle push was what kept you laid back, and you saw the look on his face when he found out you were awake. 

“Don’t get up, I gotta fix you so ya don’t bleed out.”

You didn’t say anything, just obeyed his instruction. 

He’d gotten that stupid puffed sleeve nonsense off of you, leaving you in a corset and chemise and a small petticoat. Of which he was having a hard time figuring out how to untie. 

“I’ll get it,” you leaned up slightly, groaning when you did. You untied the petticoat, and worked off the corset while you were at it. Being in a chemise and bloomers in front of the camp wasn’t an irregular thing, as it was standard sleepwear when on the run. There were not many normalities when being an outlaw, but even still, you nearly felt embarrassed being in such a skimpy state of dress, especially when he wasn’t even done. 

He looked to you, his hands on the hem of your chemise, and you nodded to him in permission. 

He pulled it back, only enough to see where the blood was seeping through. His face twisted in disgust of the wound before shaking it off and getting to work. You laid back and waited, knowing that when all was said and done, you didn’t want to watch yourself get stitched up. You’d never had to do it to yourself before, and thank God for that. 

“It was stupid, what you did…” He brought up, cleaning the wound with some whiskey on a rag. 

“I know,” you winced, squeezing your eyes shut. “I didn’t know what else to do.”

He paused his wording, unsure of what else to say to you. He’s sure getting shot was a revelation for you that you weren’t invincible, but he also wanted you to know you weren’t blameless in this endeavor, either. 

“You got some innocent folk killed today.” 

When the first and second stitch went in, you were about ready to die. Him telling you this was not helping with the outstanding pain. 

“You know I never meant for it to happen…” you trailed, thinking about those poor children that you heard screaming in the train today. Such a sad and significant moment, and you’ll never forget it. You knew you’d been the one to cause them such distress, and some of those innocent folk were dead now.

“You sure about that?” He looked up at you from his task, his hands still gently working your skin back together. His actions and words confused you, because they were so opposite right now, and you didn’t know why. 

“What do you mean?” You met his gaze, a furrowed brow on your face.

“As I see it… you used to kill a lotta folk just for fun before I met you.”

Why is he even bringing this up? You’d told him why you did what you did, and how much of a toll it took on you… so why now, when all this has transpired, would he bring up the origins of your gunslinger facade?

“Arthur… I did what I had to. They would have killed me first. I ain’t never started a duel in my life, n’ you know that,” you reminded him, and he seemed to understand that it was wrong of him to say. He didn’t apologize, though… just kept on with what he felt he needed to say. 

“Look, all I’m sayin is… you had one job today, and it felt like you went off the road just to spite Dutch,” he argued, tying off the thread that pulled your skin closed. There was still cleaning to be done around the wound, and some sort of bandage would need to be applied, just in case of excess bleeding… but you sat up, stopping him from finishing anything. 

“Is that what he told you?”  you asked, referring to Dutch, of course.

“No, I was wonderin about it myself.”

“I wasn’t tryna get anybody hurt. Dutch used to put me riding with you, remember? I always did good. Now he wants me to do a job he thinks a woman is suited for, and I’m not so good anymore. Why do you think that is?” You asked, the annoyance written all over your face and dripping in your words. 

“You could’ve called it off. We could have just told Javier to come back and wait it out until the next station. We’ve bailed on jobs before when it got too dangerous…” he explained, his voice raising just slightly again to meet your level of ferocity. 

You took a second to breathe when he spoke. In all honesty, you’d never had to leave a job before, because when you started riding with them as Texas Red, the jobs always went through. No one told you about the bail out rule.

“I didn’t know that...”

“Well you should’ve at least told us he wouldn’t drink. Then you wouldn’t be to blame.” He didn’t quite meet you at the calm state, his anger still peeking, even when yours had come down. Saying what he just said was about to make matters so much worse, though.

“You think I’m to blame?”

“I think you played a massive part in this shit hole, yeah…” he huffed out, nodding his head and looking at you as if that should somehow get you to agree with him. 

“I don’t wanna hear this anymore,” you scoffed, standing to your feet and grabbing your belongings. You felt the sting of the stitches pulling, and tried to be mindful of them, but the way he was speaking to you, especially while you bled on his cot, was not something you could take. 

“Get back here, I ain’t finished cleanin’ you up.” He stood to his feet, trying to take steps after you, but even injured, you were stubborn and quick on your feet, pulling away from his reach.

“Abigail will help me.”

“You stubborn ass, why can’t you ever just listen when you’re wrong?” He shouted after you, which had you turning on your heel to shout back to his face. 

“Maybe because I’m not!”

Your face didn’t even read anger as much as in did pain. Not the physical kind. The ailments you faced with your body, you took like a champ… but this pain in your heart and mind was far more complicated, and when he saw how saddened you were by him, he didn’t know what to do… but of course, his anger was still rising, though yours turned to something else.

“Damnit, Red… you’re gonna find yourself in a nice deep hole someday, and you’ll have pushed away everyone that cares to help you out of it.”

“I can climb out of it myself, then.” You muttered, taking the steps back to him so he could really look you in the eye when you said this… “I used to think you cared about me… wanted to help me. But you’re just like him.”

“Like who?” he asks, jutting his chin out for a moment to seem tough. 

“You’re just like Dutch… just want me to play the part of the sweet little pet that lures the men into your jobs. I won’t do it… I can’t do it, clearly.”

“That ain’t what this is about,” He grabbed your wrist as you went to turn away again, and you pulled it loose. “You know I think you’re talented with that gun.”

“Then why don’t you ever fight for me to use it? Why is it that every time Dutch wants to make me into something I’m not, you stand by and watch it happen?” You weren’t meaning it as a hypothetical question, you really wanted an answer. Standing here, the camp noise having been drowned out by your argument, you watched as he searched for something to say, but he couldn’t find anything… nothing that could save him, at least. “That’s what I thought… just stay away from me, Arthur.”

“Red?” 

“Leave me alone!”

-

You took to the new town, the argument with Arthur the days prior still fresh on your mind. You knew you’d messed everything up, and it was most definitely your fault. You can only see it now, Dutch giving a big speech while you’re away to convince everyone that you shouldn’t be doing big jobs anymore. If only he’d just given you Javier’s place on the train, and had Abigail or Karen go after Albert Templeton, the gang might be a couple thousand bucks richer right now. 

You’d not just taken to the town as the girl they wanted you to be, because that girl didn’t exist. 

There was only the girl you grew up as, and Texas Red, no in-between. It wasn’t the sweet Miss Brooks going into the bustling saloon of El Paso, it was Texas Red, the unkillable. 

Maybe that’s where you’d gone all wrong. Wearing dresses, letting your hair start to grow, and even wiping the muck off your face whenever it gets there… you’d practically handed them a reason to treat you differently. 

All of this is your fault. The mistreatment, the exclusion, the job gone wrong, everything. 

It’s the heavy weight on your mind when you roll up to the bar, gun hanging heavy on your hip, the now thirty-three notches becoming a bigger and stronger presence every time you reach for it. 

“Whiskey, double,” you knocked on the wooden bar slab, a grimace on your face while waiting for the drink. You put the money down immediately, just as always. It became a habit as soon as interruptions became common anytime you went for a whiskey. 

You threw back the first drink then ordered another, throwing that one back, too. You got into a steady rhythm until there was a tap on your shoulder. 

You turned around, eyes becoming glazed, and hands becoming tightly fisted. Whoever was bothering you has no idea how much of a mood you’re in, but if they aren’t careful, they’re gonna end up dead. 

“Hey, I know you,” the man spoke. He looked to be about early forties, with silver lines in his dark hair, and smile lines over his cheeks. 

You gave him a look, up and down, before you decided he was mistaken. 

“No, you don’t.” You turned back to the bar, but he tapped your shoulder again, and the pistol at your side was feeling oh so heavy, waiting for your hand to pull it. 

“Yeah, I’ve seen you,” he laughed, a broad and excited smile. “You’re that Texas Red fellar from down in Agua Fria.”

“Just ‘cuz I got red hair, it don’t make me Texas Red,” you slurred, slightly, the alcohol buzzing your senses, but not your reflexes. Your hands are practically itching to shoot something, or someone, and this guy seems like the perfect target. 

“Nah, I know s’you,” he seemed a little drunk, too… but probably not drunk enough to walk away. “Seen your face when you shot that farmer.”

“Farmer?” You don’t even recall a farmer-

“Robert Sims… good man that fellow,” he droned on, seemingly hesitant to get to the point. “But you were the better shot.”

“M’sorry if he was a friend’a yours,” you gave condolences, hoping it would shoo him away, but as you remember, they never go away. “I didn’t wanna shoot ‘im.”

“Nah, he wanted to shoot you,” the man nodded, backing away only slightly before pulling his coat back, revealing a pistol of his own, right on his hip. No notches. “I wanna shoot you, too.”

You rolled your eyes and heaved a breath, looking to the man with a direct gaze. “You’re too drunk, you’ll die.”

He tapped the wooden counter, where your unfinished drink was sitting. “You’ve been drinkin’ too, been watchin’ ya.”

“So you think it’s fair?” You laughed, knowing you were nowhere near drunk enough to miss even a moving target, and be fast enough to hit him first. Maybe your fingers had been itchin’ for a reason, and this was it. 

Shooting this man may not bring you joy, but it would bring some security. You’re still as good as they say, despite Dutch and some of the others back at camp. You’re still Texas Red, and you’re still unkillable. Earning the respect of this town, just as you did in Agua Fria would bring you that feeling of confidence that you had slowly been losing in the gang. 

“I think I like my chances,” he quipped, earning some oohs from the crowd in the bar. By now you both held almost every ear within the reach of your voices, and the attention was deafening. 

They always say that… Why do they always say that?

“Alright,” you turned back to the bar, slamming your drink. “Let’s take it outside.”

The cheering, followed by the chants of your challenger’s name were louder than you expected. They don’t know you, but they will. 

You set your pistol, taking thirty paces away from your opposer. As soon as you turn around, there’s a silence amongst the whole town. You watch the man’s hands, the alcohol doing nothing to stop your trigger fingers from getting ready. You never draw first. It’s already an unfair fight, why make it worse?

“Need me to count?” the man says, and you shake your head, thinking you ought to just shoot him. He’s an obnoxious bastard, but he’s cocky and confident, you’ll give him that. 

“I ain’t one for countin’,” you yelled, and saw that he almost seemed a little nervous, now. He was always nervous, but now it was on his face. He was drunk, and this was stupid. You should just shoot him in the hand and let him walk away… but you don’t. 

You’ve been angry since what happened with Arthur, and you have to take it out somehow. If you can’t drink in peace without ass-hats like this bothering you, then you just have to take care of the ass-hats. 

Suddenly, you see his hand dip, gripping the stock and beginning to pull it. You reacted like always, your hand on autopilot while your brain was elsewhere. 

The man was dead in less than a second, and you came back to reality with a hammering soberness once the shot rang out.

Thirty-four....

It was the adrenaline, finally kicking in, only long enough to give you a moment of clarity… and looking up from the dead man, across the way by the general store, stood Arthur. He was probably getting supplies for the camp. 

He’d stopped to watch, a look of disappointment on his face. He doesn’t think himself a good man, but he’s never had to go from town to town, striking fear into those he meets. He tries to be kind when he can, earning the trust of people, unlike you. You haven’t even earned the trust of the people in camp. You’ve lied to all of them.

The crowd’s cheers and encouragement pull you out of your haze, and a man jumps in front of you, separating your vision of Arthur. You didn’t want to see his sad eyes, anyways. 

Everyone pulls you back inside the saloon, and the music strikes back up again… maybe this ain’t so bad after all.

-

Ten drinks is a lot for anyone, but especially for you, who already had multiple drinks upon first walking into the saloon. No one else dared challenge you, nor did they want to. The drunker you got, the crazier you seemed to act, your reserved gunslinger facade melted right away, and you turned into something of a wild man. The people were very entertained by your stories, the ones about Agua Fria, and then of course traveling with a gang to explore the west. You left names out, of course. Just because you were drunk, didn’t mean you were stupid. 

It was after you started stuttering over your feet that two working girls came up to you. They were some of the most gorgeous women you’d ever seen, busty around the chest, with low necklines, and stunning faces framed by their bouncy brushed out hair. 

“Can I help you ladies?” You tipped your hat to them, a smirk on your lips from the last joke you told to the crowd. 

“We were hopin’ we could help you,” The blonde one spoke, and with a smile she started to lean against your arm. “We’ll knock the price for two…”

“That’s very kind’a you, but I ain’t gettin’ a room,” you told them, the same excuse you always had used for women of the night in Agua Fria. 

“We’ll get the room, handsome… just pay the price of one for a night,” the brunette girl said, trying to hang off your shoulder, running her hands over it. You had to slide back into the bar to avoid getting her hands on your chest. If she did then you’d be in deep shit. 

“How about I make a trip back here some other time, then I’ll come n’ see you two?”

The blonde girl didn’t seem to be holding back, her lips trailing mighty close to your ear. You always knew how to play the part, but you never expected that women would be falling over you this way. It was both alarming and reassuring.  

“You sure? Why don’t we just take a ride out back?” 

You were getting woozy, the way they pulled at your arms while you were leaning against the bar was swirling your head. 

“There ya are, Red!” Came a familiar voice from the side of you. “Knew I’d find you in here…”

“Arthur?” Your vision was only slightly fuzzy, but you could always make out the clear silhouette of the most towering and strongly built man you knew. 

“Thanks for findin’ my brother, girls,” he played it off, reaching for your arm to pull you forward. You resisted him at first. “C’mon Red, let’s get you a nice place to sleep tonight.”

“No,” you pulled out of his grasp, unwilling to be manhandled by the same person who told you all those awful things just a few days ago. “I wanna stay with my new friends.”

“They ain’t your friends, kid. C’mon, let’s go.” He tugged you forwards, heaving you up to stand on your own two feet, before picking you up like a hay bale, letting you dangle under his arm as he made his way for the stairs. 

“Hey! Let me down!” You cried, squirming in his hold. 

He’d already paid for a room for the night, but getting you up there was hell. “Would you stop fightin’ me?”

“No, I wanna go back downstairs…” You trailed, getting stood upright again as he shoved you into a room and closed the door. 

“If you do that, Texas Red is as good as dead.”

He locked the door and made sure to put a chair under the knob. He didn’t necessarily know how the folk in this town behaved yet. You’d seen more of it than he had since arriving. 

 “Ain’t no man ever killed me,” You droned on, your words pouring out like that of a child, with little to no thought. 

“That’s not what I meant.”

“You mean them pretty girls that wanted to take me for a ride?” You laughed, letting him push you until you were sat on the bed. He knelt down and helped you take your boots off before tugging your hat from your head, throwing it in a chair. 

“S’not the kinda ride you were thinkin’,” he sighed, unsure of if you even knew how drunk you were. 

“You mean the other kinda ride?” Your obnoxious and bellaring voice could nearly pierce the walls when you were this inebriated. 

“Would you stop bein’ so damn loud? Whole place is gonna hear you n’ yer blabberin’...”

“You’re just jealous cuz the girls were fallin’ all over me instead’a you.”

He rolled his eyes with a scoff. Those girls were seein’ an easy target. They thought you were a man they could distract and rob, and maybe have a little fun with along the way. 

“I’m sure that’s it… lay down and shut up, will ya?” He shoved you back into the bed, and you groaned, your head hitting even the soft pillows was jarring, and you were sure you’d be feeling it tomorrow. 

You figured you better do as you were told, with this situation feeling less ideal the more sober you got. Each minute passed by made you realize just how much shit you would be in with him once you woke up tomorrow. Still, you were drunk enough to start raking over all the earlier thoughts that lead you here in the first place. 

“Arthur?” 

“What?” He laid back on the other side of the bed, crossing his arms and trying to rest… but of course you weren’t done. 

“Do you think I’d be better if I were a real man?” 

“No, I do not.” He huffed, his tone flat and his motionless figure unchanging.  

“Why?” You turned on your side to look at him, and boy, he looked handsome in this light. Barely illuminated through a window, but you could see the dark outline of his features.  

“You’re just fine as a woman,” he claimed, still unchanging in position. 

“But everyone hates me as one, they love when I’m him.” You liked being him, too. You were confident as Texas Red. Stronger, Faster. Braver…

“They don’t hate ya, they just have different ideas about ya… not that it’s right.” He thought that maybe you’d drop it from here, maybe pick it up another time when he was less tired, and you were more in your right mind. 

“What are your ideas?” 

“Huh?” He finally turned to face you, unsure of what you were even talking about. 

“About me… what are your ideas?”

“Well… I happen to think you’re real strong, and smart. I think you’ve got gifts that even I don’t understand, and you’re good at using ‘em… I also think you’re a caring person, even when you shouldn’t be.” He listed only the things that came to mind, but he knew there were so many more that he was only not remembering. 

“Those are all good things…” You supposed. 

“Guess so,” he nodded, watching your face contort, as if you were debating on telling him something. You were still stone cold drunk, even if there was a hint of normalcy to you at this point. You wouldn’t remember any of it tomorrow, of that he was sure. 

“I think I love you, Mister Morgan,” you let out, looking at him, but not waiting for a reaction. Even in your tarnished state, you’d just wanted him to know what you were feeling.

“No you don’t, s’just the whiskey,” he argued, his whole body tensing up in fear of how to respond to this drunken revelation. Drunk words are sober thoughts. Everyone knows that. 

“I do, I love ya more than anything,” you rambled on, completely entranced with the silhouette of him against the cool light of the moonlit windowsill. 

“If you really do, you gotta tell me when you’re sobered up,” he instructed. He wanted it to be true, hell, he’d thought it might have been true when first arriving here… but the train job seemed to put you both at square one again, and he was getting tired of it. There was so much he wanted to say to you, but he couldn’t risk being wrong about you feeling the same way. He’s lost too much love in this life to blindly pursue it again. He was tired of getting his heart stomped on.

“I’ll tell you… Swear it,” you crossed your heart, giving him a doe eyed smile. “Do you love me?” 

“I can’t tell you yet,” he shook his head, looking back up to the ceiling. 

“But I told you…”

“I know, sweet girl… just be patient, alright? I’m gonna get there, promise.” 

You nodded, turning on your own back and staring up at the ceiling, a single crack in the painted plaster going along the corner of it, keeping you distracted enough to stop thinking about Arthur and fall asleep next to him. 

-

Tags: @photo1030 @sheepdogchick @snoopysshark @strvberrydoll @yyiikes @phantasyy @puffyhairedhipster @scorpio-echo

[womenloverlmao]

Forgot Something?

(Yes, someone else has probably written this but I decided to write one of my own :)

TW: normal criminal minds shit.

Summary: Reader is set on the fact that Spencer forgot something when he got called into a case late but he cant figure out what that could be.

Imagine season 4 Spence? Possibly? I don't even know man. 

You and Spencer had gotten used to not always being together. You and agent… or, rather, Dr. Spencer Reid, resident genius and pretty boy of the BAU had been together for around a year and a half. It was a lot, but you grew used to it. 

After coming to terms with the fact that you wouldn’t always have your boyfriend around, you learned to value the time you spent with him. Moments like this; you were curled up together, the result of coaxing your germaphobe out of his comfort zone (and into another). Lying on your sides, his head against your chest with your leg over his waist. You would have fallen asleep there if it weren’t for that sound. 

Oh, that God-forsaken sound. 

The sound of Spencer’s phone going off. Sure, you were used to him going away for cases, but that sound honestly caused a trauma response. You removed your leg from him as he went to get his phone from the bedside table. He picked up, and said some stereotypical responses… well, the stereotype when you went to work on profiling rapists, bombers, murderers… you get the gist. 

He got up and changed, before grabbing his bag that he always had ready. You quickly followed behind him. Sure, you were only in a ragged t-shirt and panties, but you weren’t the one leaving. It was around ten at night. You wouldn’t have realized that he had muted himself if you didn’t see him unmuting. “Yes, I’ll be there in fifteen,” he said. “Okay, thank you. Got it.” 

You grabbed your arm as whoever it was on the other end hung up. “I’m sorry…” he tried to start. 

“No, don’t apologize, Spence. It’s your job. I’m not upset, I promise,” you cut him off. 

“I still feel awful.” 

“Don’t. You’re gonna go save some people, or whatever it is that you do,” you smile. 

“Well, technically-” 

“Spence, I’m gonna repeat the ‘don’t’. Go do your job, okay, baby?” 

He sighed. “Okay…” He walked to the door, almost opening it before you stop him. 

“Where do you think you’re going?” You asked. 

“I thought- I thought you just told me to do my job?” He responded. 

“I did, but not when you forgot something.” 

You could see the gears in his brain turning as he tried to remember what it was that he could have forgotten. There was nothing, he had every single thing in his bag. He could so clearly picture everything he had put in there. “Forgot something? No, I have an-” 

“Eidetic memory, I know.”

“I didn’t forget anything?” 

“Yes, you did,” you stayed on your point. 

“What did I forget?” He was genuinely confused. 

You rolled your eyes. “Where’s my kiss, Spencer?” 

He had an ‘oh shit’ moment in his head. “That’s… what I forgot?” 

You nodded. He couldn’t help but laugh a little, you had him fully convinced he forgot something for a minute. He walks over again and presses a gentle kiss to your lips. “Better?” he asks.

“Yep.” You smiled. 

He kissed your forehead. “I love you, lock the door behind me, okay? Make sure to check if all the-” “Windows are locked, I know,” you said. 

He reached the door, and he was mildly hesitant to open it. “I’ll be okay,” you assured him. 

“I know, I just…” “I can stay with my parents, too, if that’ll make you feel better.” 

“It’s not about that, I just sometimes wish that I could be here with you,” he admitted. 

You walked over to him, giving him one final kiss. “I know, but they need you out there. I can last a couple of days on my own every week.” He calmed down after the kiss. “Okay.” 

“Now, go, you’re gonna be late.” 

“I love you,” he told you again. 

“I know, I love you too,” you responded. He walked out of the apartment, leaving you alone. Yes, it was upsetting to be alone most of the time. You locked the door and made sure the windows were locked before you laid down again. 

Sure, lonely nights were sucky, but… you knew it was for a reason. And no matter what, you were grateful to have Dr. Spencer Reid as your boyfriend.

[plutoswritingplanet]

Vicarious (Homelander x Female!Reader) pt.4

a/n: a short conclusion for the last chapter, before i finish a more story-heavy one, deeply inspired by "Two Against One" by Jack White

Warnings: Masturbation (again, wow), Explicit Language, Alcohol Use, Very Creepy Behavior, Plus Sized Reader, Inappropriate Relations With A Marble Wall, Suggestive Themes

Summary: Both you and Homelander get increasingly confused about what you truly are. None come out unscathed.

Vicarious Masterlist

The vulnerability of drunkenness looks good on you. 

At first, you're none the wiser. As your limbs uncurl from around Homelander, your feet hitting the polished floor of his penthouse. Stomach flipping around, you fight with all your strength not to fall to your knees, as the shock of being shot out through the air slowly subsides. Homelander starts pacing around the living area, an excitable spring in his steps, as he makes his way towards the rather well-stocked liquor cabinet. Were you more vigilant, perhaps you would've read this action for what it truly was, but as it stands, the realization is postponed for a few seconds more. 

Glasses clink somewhere behind you, but you're too focused on steadying your breathing to notice. Your vision is swimming, the blurred outline of a gigantic American flag, hanged on the wall in front of you, makes you want to jump out that stupid window. The repetitive pattern twists your brain around.

- Ugh... Jesus - you throw the offending piece of cloth a withering look.

- If you're going to be sick, do it in the bathroom - Homelander barks, keeping himself out of your field of vision. 

- I'll be fine, don't wo... - okay, you cut yourself off because maybe you're not fine after all. 

A second passes, as you try to identify, if the feeling inside your chest is an omen of oncoming vomit. 

No, it's good, you're okay. 

Your eyelids are so incredibly heavy, it almost feels like your lashes are tangling together every time you blink, trying to force your eyes to stay closed. There's this strange taste in your mouth, a ghost of drinks past, mixed with some other, much more worrying substances you've enthusiastically consumed, and you smack your tongue against your pallet, running it over your teeth, as if to test if they're all set in place. Adrenaline gathers at the tips of your fingertips, and you shake your hands with a frown, fighting to rid yourself of this energy. Instead of helping, it only serves to make your stomach churn harder.

Traumatic experiences, such as being flown through the air at ungodly speed, should technically sober you up, but right now you feel like you've been funneling alcohol through a tube the entire night. Not entirely untrue, but you've never been a lightweight, so this sudden change of pace surprises and worries you. And there's one more thing. As your hands flail at your sides, checking your bearings, a sudden wave of realization hits you like a truck. 

Your bag. You forgot your bag at the party, and as such, your phone is lost too. Which wouldn't be so bad, if you didn't have the combination for the door of your room in the Tower saved in the notes. Your head starts to hurt, eyes closing shut, as you try to will the numbers into your brain. They were funny, you made them into a joke, you just don't remember which one. 

- Fuck... - you sigh, scratching at the back of your neck, where your sweat is rapidly cooling in the conditioned air of the penthouse. 

Which was it? Four numbers, significant ones. You chuckled to yourself when you first typed them into the lock, but it's so hard to focus on anything other than staying upright.

- You okay there? - Homelander asks, and suddenly you're reminded that he's still here, with you.

Alone. 

It's not dread that climbs up your spine at the realization, not excitement either. What you feel, clawing its way through your insides like a feral beast, is a profound sense of acceptance. Blue and red invade your vision, as he moves to stand in front of you, pushing a chilled glass filled with amber liquid into your hand. On instinct, your fingers curl around it, but you can't seem to raise it to your lips, wondering, if this move will signal your defeat. His chest rises and falls evenly, as he stands so close to you, you can practically feel the heat coming off of him, along with that rich cologne, that surrounds you from every angle. 

There's a geometric pattern all over the blue parts of his costume, and your eyes fight against its movements in front of you. The padding on his chest and stomach is truly ridiculous, even in your sorry state you can realize the unnatural movements of his fake muscles over his skin. Really, you can't be the only person that's noticed this. 

- I forgot my phone from the party - your voice is so quiet, weak, and you can't seem to pinpoint, if it's Smirnoff's or Fireball's - I don't...

- I know - he interrupts you, inclining his head as if he's trying to entice you to look at him - You left it on a chair in the kitchen. 

You don't give yourself the luxury of confusion, because you should've known. You should've figured it out, the moment he fell from the sky, catching the vulnerability of the moment, and crushing it in his teeth. Of course, he was looking, listening in as well, most likely. Wouldn't be the first time, would it? Who else would've known to leak the contract information, mere hours after you've complained to your friend over the phone, by an open window no less? There's no allowance of betrayal for you, you knew from the start, and yet you've allowed yourself to be put in this situation. You placed your own hand into the maw of the lion, and now you're supposed to expect him not to snap his teeth?

 His hand comes up into your field of vision, those red, leather gloves creaking, as they wrap around your fingers holding the glass. You don't resist, when he guides your hand up, towards your lips, tips the glass against them, until the bitter liquid pours into your mouth, past your teeth. 

- Very good - he murmurs with a patronizing tone, watching your throat work, as you swallow around the burning sensation - Take it all in, champ.

And you do. You down the drink, until there's nothing left. His hand retreats, and your fingers relax, letting the glass fall onto the plush carpet. You need to lock Smirnoff, stuff her back into that box, hidden from sight, before anything progresses. But she just won't let go. She claws her way into your brain, screaming at you to do something, anything, before it's too late. 

This isn't you. You're not here. 

The familiar mantra falls short, as Homelander slowly starts to take off his gloves, one finger at a time. His hands are strong, pale, with slender fingers, that curl and uncurl around air, as if testing the tendons working under his skin. Your eyes glide over the movements, heart stopping for just a moment, when he holds out his right hand in front of your chest, just shy of touching. Wetting your lips with your tongue, you watch, as his fingers tremble with tension. He wants you to feel it, the anticipation of the inevitable. He wants you to break, he's only ever wanted a reaction out of you.

- Please, I don't... - your voice cracks like a window. 

You don't what? Want it? You're convinced there are no words in the world, that would stop him right now, and the muscles in your face twitch. The American flag behind his shoulder stares at you, the stripes suddenly becoming a flurry of motion, as he pushes his hand against your chest. You don't fight it, letting him guide you all the way across the room, until your back reaches the wall, slamming into it with a dull thud. Despite that, the unrelenting force behind his movements makes you acutely aware of his true strength, the sheer lack of humanity inside this man in front of you. 

As soon as you're pressed against the wall, Homelander lurches forwards, his arms encircling your form completely, his face diving into the juncture between your neck and shoulder. Your entire body sways in place, as he takes a long, shuddering breath, his palms mapping the softness of your flesh under the flimsy t-shirt. Cotton tears under his ministrations, and cold air hits your back, your sides. A deep, low hum reverberated through his chest, as he exhales, immediately sucking in another breath through gritted teeth. 

- You... - he huffs, his exposed hands fitting themselves under the tears in your shirt - I've never known something so cheap could smell so good.  

There's a jolt of something, running through his body, as his hips press into you with barely restrained force. He'd fit nicely between your pliable thighs, but not now, not ever. The hardness digging into your stomach finally solidifies, what you dreaded would come.

- We can't - you don't recognize your voice. 

This isn't you. You're not here. 

But Fireball is not here either, so what is this third, strange person, who raises their hands and pushes against his chest, against the metal eagles on his shoulders? The flag still watches you struggle, those impassive stars mocking you at every turn. Truly, the American Dream come true, being humped like a dog by the strongest, most Yankee Doodle Dandy superhero to ever exist. This is exactly, what your parents were chasing, when they moved to the States, searching for a better future for their soon-to-be-born little girl. Will he stick a flag pole in your cunt, and sing the fucking National Anthem, after he's done using you? The thought almost makes you laugh, makes you remember the combination to your room, but all dark amusement flies out the still open window, because suddenly, his arms straighten out. 

He pins you to the wall, pulling back all the way, so he can stare at you with those cold, dead eyes, full of freedom for his own, heinous actions, and none left for you. There's tension in his face, as his lips press together into a condescending, tight smile, and his fingers flex on your shoulders, testing the durability of the stitches of your t-shirt once again. 

- Can't? - there's a tilt to his voice, a barely contained sliver of anger seeping through his teeth - I'm the fucking Homelander. I can do whatever I want. 

Ah, so that's what you're dealing with.

 The box rattles, the lock you've so carefully placed upon it bursting open like a cracked egg. And as Smirnoff takes her rightful place, scraping both Fireball and that elusive third thing from the surface of your brain, you look up at Homelander with utter understanding. What stands in front of you, is not a symbol of hope and peace. You're looking at a spoiled, invincible brat, who's never had to work for anything in his life. 

This is you. You're here. And you're so fucking disappointed.

Once again, you shape-shift right in front of his eyes, and with a shuddered breath Homelander realizes, that finally, he's looking at the real you. Not the bored, wreck of a human being he's met weeks ago, not the corporate product Stillwell has carved out of you, but a secret, third thing. An intoxicating cocktail of your true, hidden feelings floats to the surface, from underneath layers upon layers of masks, and he wishes to tear every single one, if it means you'll keep looking at him like that. Like you know him, like you can see behind the curtain of his performance, just as he sees behind yours. It's been such a long time, since someone made this discovery, and remained impassive.

When he thinks about it, this is the first time, he's met with such levelled response. And, fuck, the thought is better than drugs. The ghost of your scent tickles his nostrils, and he wonders what would stick to his tongue, should he taste you right now. Not fear, not desire, definitely not admiration. The expression you're wearing is eerily familiar, but so strange at the same time. Stitches at your shoulders tear under his fingertips, when he squeezes harder, hoping to extract the answer from your skin, from the softness of your flesh, the caverns of your bones. 

You don't even give him the luxury of a flinch.

- Just because you can, doesn't mean you should.

Who said those words, you're both unsure, but they shoot through him like thousands of spikes, drilling themselves under his impenetrable skin with ease. He blinks, and finally realizes the familiarity of your gaze. He's seen it, back in that lab, back home. Disappointment. And with that realization comes a myriad of familiar feelings, of patterns he's been continuing over, and over again, like a compulsion he's unable to rid himself of. The need to be feared, respected, loved, it all mixes with one more, treacherous thing. Make it right, make it better. 

Slowly, his fingers uncurl from around your shoulders, the t-shirt hanging onto your frame on a couple of strings alone. Surely, he'll regret this sooner, rather than later, but for now, he lets you go. Homelander takes a step back, his eyes unfocused behind a dazed cloud, as he regards you with scrunched eyebrows. It's evident, by the way his breathing quickens, the way his movements are tense, still ready to pounce. The desire to tear, to get what he wants is strong as ever, and the darkness in his eyes should be terrifying. Would be terrifying, if you were anyone, but yourself. 

And still, there's nothing. Your hearbeat is steady, your breathing even, your blood lacks any familiar chemicals, which would indicate your dishevelled state. It's as if you're looking at his through the windows of a passing bus, like he's a fucking traffic sign stuck into concrete. Insignificant, a piece of the landscape no one thinks twice about. But then, before he has the chance to get offended, you shift again, knocking him off his rythm once more. 

When did your eyes start to sparkle like that, he's none the wiser, but he drinks up the sight like a man parched, his mouth opening just a little, tasting the air of you on his tongue. The ghost of a smile on your lips might as well be a trick of the light, but he wants to believe otherwise, and as you take a step closer to him, pushing yourself off the wall, his heart stops for a millisecond. 

- Thank you - you whisper, your breath hanging in the space between the two of you - For saving me.

He blinks. And then, you're gone, leaving his penthouse like nothing has happened, like this is exactly how the night was supposed to end. The click of the door behind you sounds so distant to his ears, as if he's being held under water, and he's left standing rigid, staring at the empty space on the wall, where your body pressed into just seconds ago. A myriad of emotions swirls within him, one darker than the other, and as if pushed by some invisible force, he approaches the wall, closing his eyes with a shudder. Images of you, your body, the softness underneath his fingertips, flood his mind, and one question still fights for an answer in his mind. He needs to know, needs to feel something, lest he follows right behind you and forces the solution right out of your lips. 

Your scent lingers long after you've left, and with the concentration of a mad scientist, he places his cheek against the cold marble, where your shoulder was mounted. Curiosity killed the cat, but satisfaction brought it back, and with a groan of unresolved tension, Homelander lets his tongue slip from between his teeth, laying flat on the polished surface. He licks a long stripe across, from one imaginary shoulder to the other, and can almost feel the ghost of you under each taste bud. 

Why did he let you go? What sort of a spell did you put on him, that he let you slip past his fingers, while he's still here, burning up with need? 

His hand tugs at the belt buckle, until it snaps off completely, clattering to the floor. Saliva smears down the surface of the wall, as he yanks down the lower part of his suit, immediately starting to hump his hand like a wild animal, mind clouded with what he wants, but can't seem to take. The marble wall steals the boiling heat right out of his body, and he presses harder against the unrelenting surface, fucking into his hand with reckless abandon. Words leave his lips in a messy jumble, nonsensical and broken. His eyes sting under his eyelids, and as he feels his peak come closer and closer, the heat inside his head becomes unbearable. 

With a frustrated, wanton growl, he comes hard all over the wall, his eyes snapping open, letting the deadly light out in full force. It collides with the marble, burning into it with ease for just a second, before he blinks it away, his body shaking from the intensity of his release. Pieces of rubble fall to the ground at his feet, dust covering the red leather of his boots. He's outgrown shame a long time ago, and with lips pursed in deep thought, he examines the demage he's done while lost in the moment. Placing his forehead right at the edge of the hole in the wall, he gathers his release on the tips of his fingers, pressing it further into the cracks in the marble.

This might be a bit harder to explain in the morning, he thinks to himslef with a huff of laughter. But, out of all the things he could've done, he guesses Stillwell would be happier to call for a renovation team, than have to explain to the higher-ups, and later the world, what happened to that bright-eyed Sidekick of his. 

A small mercy. A present, if you will, for both you and her. He shakes his head, finally stepping away from the destroyed wall. After all, it wasn't any spell, any sort of influence that made him let you flee back to the supposed safety of your room. It was his benevolence.

 Of course. He's the hero after all.  

[cabinetofquriosities]

The Ritual

Agatha x Reader || Warnings: Smut, violence

Done for an exchange with @marril96 who made this gifset as a preview for my upcoming detective Agathario fic. Check her stuff out!

Agatha hadn’t been able to use her magic for months.

She couldn’t sense a hex or a binding spell. If there was one, it was intricately done. No, there was a block. Regular people had the flu, witches had blocks. It wasn’t often and it typically never lasted more than a few days.

It was sometimes brought on by being near overpowering magic while your own was unstable. Other possible causes were new overwhelming emotional changes, mental torture, or lack of practice for more than a few decades. It was often psychosomatic, caused by the mind rather than anything external.

Agatha had never suffered from it, given that her major life changes were almost immediately followed by absorbing the powers of a coven. Nicky died, she created the con of the road. Rio left her after brief reunions, she would find more witches to use. The pair had finally let go of one another decades ago, so it couldn’t have been Rio.

When she met you, though, her entire world shifted. She was finally feeling grounded by someone who wasn’t running off for a greater purpose like her ex did. You both made each other your purpose.

She had plunged the depths of her mind to figure out what the cause of her block was, but couldn’t find anything. She researched every text on the subject of blocked magic. All it said was to find the cause and make peace. Agatha had always considered peace to be overrated.

Agatha had moved in with you a few months prior, right around the time of her magic freezing up. You both lived in an old victorian at the edge of the woods. You found yourself holding her at night, whispering words of comfort in her ear. You would help her look for answers while reading up on your own healing magic. You supported her the best you could. She was happy with you, but incomplete without her purple. It was a new thing for Agatha to feel happy and to feel powerless. Both were unnatural states for her.

One day, you were working on a new healing salve as the sun set outside. You plucked a bloom from the dried flowers you had hanging over the kitchen island amidst the pots and pans. You dropped it into the boiling water, watching the color change.

A crash yanked you out of your focus. You froze, conjuring a ball of energy in your palm as you listened for a possible threat. Instead, you heard a familiar groan. You extinguished the orb before running to the source of the sound.

Agatha had collapsed after opening the door. Blood poured from a wound in her side. She had bruises and cuts all over her form. You knelt down, moving her onto her back so you could get a better look at the damage.

“What happened?!” you asked in a panic.

Agatha let out a pained wheeze. Your heart raced and your chest tightened.

Agatha coughed up some blood before saying, “A warlock… he followed me from the magic shop in town… he knew who I was. Wanted to… be the killer of the witch killer.”

As if she had summoned him herself, a tall man appeared in the doorway. He was unable to come inside due to the sigils surrounding the house. He smiled and laughed.

“A healer? Oh, this is going to be far too easy. I am surprised the great witch Agatha Harkness couldn’t find a protection witch to keep her s-“

You cut him off with a powerful beam of destruction shooting out from your palm. So many mistook healers for being peaceful or having passive magic. They didn’t realize that such witches also held command of the opposite end of the spectrum. While you could heal, you could also harm more harshly than other types of witches. It was the balance of magic that some so easily forgot.

The warlock landed in the dirt like a ragdoll. You stepped out onto the porch, looming over him. He winced, opening his mouth to say something before you shot him with another blast, holding this one until it left him a blackened husk of meat.

Once your were assured of his demise, you ran back to Agatha’s side. She wasn’t doing well. You knelt down, having a second look at her injuries. She gasped sharply in pain as you moved her shirt up enough to see the wound. It was definitely one that could prove to be fatal with how much blood was being lost. You were too far from any hospital, so you would have to find a way to somehow heal an injury that was damn near impossible to do with magic.

You were a healer, yes, but you were a healer of witches. You could only help so much with fixing regular people, especially when they were harmed by a witch or warlock. With witches, she could channel her magic into theirs to heal their bodies. The fact that Agatha no longer had access to her power meant that you couldn’t save her life without going to extreme lengths. Even then, there was only a chance of success.

You stood up and ran to the kitchen, leaving Agatha on the floor in the entryway.

“Oh no… it’s fine… I’ll stay right here…” she called.

You would have smiled if not for your fear. As long as she was being her sarcastic self, she was still alive. You already had half of the concoction done since you had been working on healing salves already, but the substance itself wouldn’t be enough. It needed a ritual to go along with it.

You threw in more ingredients and let them boil as you ran to the living room to retrieve candles. You rapidly and clumsily set them down in a circle around your girlfriend. You noticed her eyes had drifted closed. Your stomach dropped and you bent down, shaking her awake. Agatha woke, groaning in pain.

“Owww! Damn it!” she scolded.

“Good! Keep yelling at me. Keep your eyes open. I’ll be right back,” you said before running off.

She did just as you said, finally following orders for once. You ripped a page out of one of your spell books. She loudly complained about everything she could as you brought the serum, gemstones, matches, and chalk out. You set them all down and got to work. You drew sigils in chalk between each candle before lighting it. The gemstones were placed in a specific order.

You consulted the torn page that detailed the ritual. You had never attempted this ritual before. It was too risky for both parties involved. If it went wrong, your own form could be drained of life along with hers. Agatha, who had been bitching just a moment before, recognized the preparations.

“No…” she said.

“Yes,” you said back while lighting the final candle.

“No… there has to be another w-“

“This is the only way.”

“My love, you can’t…”

“I can and I will,” you said with an assuredness that you weren’t sure you completely felt.

You moved into the circle with her, stripping her clothing from her. She gasped and winced, but neither of you had the luxury of being delicate. You carried on, taking the serum and pouring it from the pot over her torso, coating the injury. Her back arched as she screamed out in pain. You hated that you were unable to let it cool properly. The salve instantly healed the burns caused by the boiling temperature. She passed out from shock, but you slapped her awake.

“Agh! What the fuck?!” she yelled, “You couldn’t have BLOWN ON IT or added ice before giving me THIRD DEGREE BURNS?!”

“Oh, hush, they’re already gone,” you chided.

You began chanting in Sumerian as the energy around them shifted. The ritual was older than most, something that was created before Latin. The candles would be the first measure of how it was working. The flame shrank to nearly nothing, signifying a lack of effectiveness. A second passed before the wicks re-ignited with bursts of fire. You felt your body relax slightly as you kept chanting.

You then changed your chant, moving to her wound. You hovered your hands over it as they glowed. The imbalance of power created a vacuum, with Agatha’s lack of magic causing your own to begin breaking down. Your face began to lose color and your arms shook. The gemstones vibrated against the wooden floor as a warning that you swiftly disregarded. Agatha realized what was happening, watching your lips turn blue as her own body began going cold. You doubled over, your face close to her shoulder.

“S-stop,” she whimpered, wanting at least one of you to survive the ritual.

You simply kept chanting, even as your voice constricted. Agatha brought her hand up and cupped your cheek. You turned your head to face her, knowing in that moment that you would rather die with her in an effort to save her than sacrifice her to save yourself. The only way out was through, for better or worse.

You leaned into her touch as your skin began to warm again. You watched pink returning to her lips and cheeks. The wound was also beginning to heal slightly. You could tell from Agatha’s smile that you looked better as well. You finished the chant and looked back at the page showing the steps of the ritual. A sly smile tugged at your lips.

“I doubt we will have an issue with this part,” you said.

“What do you mean?”

You didn’t answer as you hiked up her loose skirt. You said an incantation before bending Agatha’s legs. You leaned down, your eyes gazing into your girlfriend’s as your tongue slipped inside of her. Agatha whimpered before arching her back. She shook from the shooting pain of the wound, but the pleasure outweighed it.

You slid two fingers into her, curling them with every thrust. You needed to bring her to the peak of pleasure to essentially give her body a jump the way you would a car. It would give Agatha a magical influx on par with adrenaline in combination with electric shocks to the chest. With nothing to work off of on Agatha’s side, you had no clue if you would survive this. Her climax could restore her or it could drain you both depending on what the universe allowed.

Although you would never tell Agatha for fear of giving her a fatal case of performance anxiety, Agatha was familiar enough with the ritual to know the stakes. She looked down at you with so much love. She had been so terrified of having someone who she loved like this in her life, but this risk you were taking for her cemented what she should have already known. You were devoted to her more than anything and would never leave. As that realization clicked into place, something finally changed within herself.

Just as you were beginning to feel another drain, Agatha’s body began to emanate energy. The magic rushed through her, finally flooding in after months of being blocked. Her acceptance of you as a constant in her life sparked it.

You could taste the power restoring itself as you devoured her. You sucked aggressively on her clit as your fingers thrusted faster. Both of your eyes locked, your magic balancing with hers. The wound healed with a blinding glow, closing completely with her orgasm.

She had never looked more beautiful than she did in that moment with her energy visibly engulfing her. Shades of purple licked at the outline of her form. Her eyes shone with violet and gold. Her walls clenched and pulsed around your fingers.

One candle flame extinguished itself after another. The stones stilled. The aura of Agatha’s power absorbed back into her. She took a shaky breath, lifting herself up on shaking arms. You crawled over her before kneeling, straddling her lap. Your palm rubbed over her now unharmed skin. You couldn’t believe it had worked.

Her hands held your face and guided you to look at her. You beamed at her like you had fallen for her all over again without knowing.

[maraschinomerry]

Rock Paper Scissors

Pairings: George Karim x gn!reader, background Locklyle

Summary: George is your best friend, Lucy's convinced there's more to it but he's not your type... is he?

Content: friends to lovers, oblivious flirting, misunderstanding, light swearing and suggestive thoughts, kisses

A/N: it's officially 1 year since I posted my first Lockwood & Co fic!! Thank you all for making it such an incredible year and continuing to support my writing, it means the world to me ❤️ and thank you to the Multiverse of George for fuelling the buff!George fire 🔥 I've even made a montage so everyone can see the vision, plus the gif above of George swinging the chains he's definitely strong 💪

Word count: 4.2k

Taglist: @neewtmas @marinalor @ettadear @honey-with-tea @mischiefmanaged71 (let me know if you want adding or removing!)

Ever since you'd started working for Lockwood & Co, you and George had had the most playful rivalry.

It had started on the very first day, when you came for your interview. Lucy had welcomed you into the living room while George went to fetch the biscuits. After breezing through the tests, Lockwood gestured to the plate still being clutched by the other boy.

“Biscuit?”

You frowned at the boy in the armchair, who looked like the last thing he wanted to do was to share. “Am I supposed to fight you for them or something?”

George had the audacity to snort. “In your dreams.” But then he did offer you the plate, albeit reluctantly.

Once you got used to one another, you found that you actually got on really well and gradually he became your best friend, but by then you'd set a precedent that neither of you wanted to drop.

“We're heading out soon,” Lucy informed you both as she slid cups of tea across the table. She and Lockwood had an appointment with a client, leaving you and George behind to keep working. “Can one of you oil the chains ready for tonight?”

You turned to George; he was already looking at you. A gleam came to his eye.

“Rock paper scissors?”

“You bet,” you grinned, already raising your hand. It took a few attempts, as you'd done it so many times by now that the two of you knew what each other was planning before it happened, but eventually you lost. Sticking your tongue out, you picked up your cup and headed towards the basement. Lucy followed you down.

“Can I ask you something?” she began cautiously.

“Course you can.” It wasn't like Lucy to not just ask straight out. This was odd.

“What's going on with you and George?” This was definitely odd. “It feels like you've gone past teasing, you're almost flirting with each other.”

Your gaze flew to your friend, who had lingered on the stairs. Was she being serious? “It's not like that, Luce,” you replied, wondering if it was warm in the basement or if it was just you. “I love him to bits, but the same way I love all of you. He's just not my type.”

Her eyebrow quirked up at that. “You have a type?”

“Don't say that like you don't,” you hit back. “You and Lockwood are made for each other! And George is great, really, but I prefer guys a bit more… buff?”

Lucy nodded. “Interesting.” It was spoken with the air of someone who knew exactly why it was interesting and someone who was absolutely not going to explain why. “Well… just don't rule anything out, but please be careful. I love you both too and I'd hate to see either of you get hurt.”

It was touching to hear her so candid about her feelings for you both. “I won't, I promise.”

—

You always forgot how ridiculously heavy the chains were. Just trying to hoist them up to make sure you'd oiled all the way round each joint was a workout. It was only adrenaline that carried you through working with them on cases. Thank goodness you were almost finished - your arms were beginning to ache and you were sure you were coated in sweat.

“Need a hand?” George's voice drifted from the stairs. You hadn't heard him come down, probably drowned out by the clanking links and your strained grunts, but there he was, sitting on one of the lower steps and watching you in amusement.

“You mean you want me to dishonour the sacred pact of rock paper scissors?” You mimed fainting in shock, taking the opportunity to slump back on the pile of chains and let the tension dissipate from your shoulders.

He chuckled, climbing down the final few steps and holding out his hand. “Will the sacred pact allow a lunch break? I made soup.” He'd got you there and he knew it. You loved his soup. Grinning, you accepted his hand and he pulled you away from the cold, hard metal.

There were two steaming bowls already set out on the table when you got back to the kitchen, and beside yours was a plate of sandwiches, cut exactly how you liked them.

“You're the best.”

“I know,” George smirked. He was eating with one hand, the other scribbling away on the Thinking Cloth. As he became more engrossed, he leant further forwards, his dark curls flopping over his brow. It was fascinating watching him get so engrossed in his work, the whole world melting away around him. Once you finished eating, you glanced across and took his empty bowl from in front of him. He looked up sharply, snapped from wherever his thoughts had taken him.

“Sorry, didn't mean to disturb you,” you mumbled.

“No, it's fine. We should probably get packed.”

You followed him down to the basement and pulled your kit bags from the shelf. Set side by side on the table, you both began to load up.

“You can carry the chains,” you told him over your shoulder as you picked up a half-empty box of flares and emptied it into your bag.

“Hey, you're the one who lost!”

“Only for cleaning them, I've done my bit.”

He huffed, but gave you a smile as he made his way over to the mound of chains. Your eyes widened as he scooped up a whole length in one easy movement and gave them a quick shake loose. You'd spent nearly quarter of an hour trying to manoeuvre that section earlier.

“How the hell did you do that?”

“They're not that heavy,” he shrugged, then added with a cheeky raised eyebrow, “or at least only when you’re trying to clean them.”

You threw the empty cardboard box at his head with a laugh.

—

A week later, the four of you were nestled in the living room. Outside, rain battered against the windows, which were almost being shaken out of their frames by the driving wind. You'd never have guessed it was June; it felt more like January. The fire was lit in the hearth, the occasional crackle of wood splitting the only other sound.

Eventually, Lockwood broke the silence. “I hate to say it, but someone's going to have to go out. We've got no tea left and barely enough food to last until tonight. We can draw straws to make it fair.”

He needn't have bothered. You and George already had your fists raised. One, two, three, paper. One, two, three, rock. Scissors. Paper. Scissors. Rock. Round and round you went, the symmetry only fuelling your competitive natures.

“This is ridiculous,” Lucy muttered. She was right, of course.

You raised your fist higher, leaning forward in an offered challenge. “Right. Arm wrestle. Loser goes.”

George leaned in, resting his elbow on the table. Lockwood and Lucy exchanged wide-eyed glances.

“Y/n…” Lucy began, but you weren't listening. Your elbow was already mirroring George's, hand in his. You weren't sure why you'd expected the easy, flexible grip of holding a rapier, but his fingers were clenched firmly around the back of your hand. Lockwood moved closer and counted you down.

Your hand hit the table almost immediately.

It felt like all the air had left the room. You stared in shock at the boy opposite, the triumphant toothy grin that crinkled his eyes, the unexpected tightness of his shirt sleeve around his arm. The similar tightness in your chest. Interesting.

Some sort of realisation hit you, and your attention shifted to Lucy. The look she was giving you was almost as satisfied as George's. Warmth flooded your cheeks. You drew in a shaky breath as you struggled to drag your eyes away from George's arm, which was still pinning yours to the table. After a moment, you felt his fingers loosen and with some reluctance pulled your hand away. The silence in the room was palpable. Lucy was still watching you in amusement. Lockwood was watching Lucy, trying to figure out why she had that “I know something you don't” look again over a simple arm wrestle. George was watching you too, his expression slowly shifting from victory to concern.

“Y/n? You okay?” he asked quietly. Your thoughts rushed back into your body, snapping your attention into the real world.

“All good,” you mumbled. “Just preparing to get drenched. If I'm not back in 20 minutes, assume I've been blown to the other end of the country.” At least that got a laugh out of Lockwood. Hurriedly, you stood and made your way to the front door. Why had you agreed to this? It was your own fault, of course, for continuing this whole competitive thing with George, but how were you to know he was that strong? A flash of bicep clouded your vision again, and you reached for the door handle before you did something regrettable.

“Hold on,” a voice came behind you. It was him. Keep it together, you told yourself.

“If you're about to volunteer to take my place, go ahead,” you forced yourself to stay casual.

George moved closer, and you swallowed a lump in your throat. “I was actually going to question why you looked like you were about to leave without a coat.” He reached to the rack over your shoulder, lifting yours from its hook.

“That might help.” You knew you were blushing again, but prayed he thought it was just from embarrassment at being so forgetful. Definitely not how close he was, how he was holding your coat in the same hand that had been holding yours moments ago.

—

By the time you made it back to the house, you were soaked to the bone and almost shivering. It seemed like the storm wasn't going to let up until at least the next day, so you'd decided to stock up on plenty of food which had seemed like a great idea until you tried to carry it all home. You'd had to stop several times on the way, ducking into doorways and bus shelters to escape the weather as you swapped hands, flexed your shoulders or relieved your fingers from where the handles of the bags had started to make dents. When you finally made it, you held the door open with one foot as you negotiated the bags in and dropped them unceremoniously on the hall floor. George emerged from the living room, alone this time; Lockwood and Lucy must have gone upstairs or down to the basement.

“You look awful.”

“Aww thanks, you're not so bad yourself,” you joked dryly. Oh god, Lucy was right, you were almost flirting. A shiver ran through you and this time you hoped it was from the cold.

For a second, you thought you saw George's eyelids flutter. “Well, I uh… I ran you a bath to warm you back up. I'll put this away.” He hauled up the bags of shopping with barely a huff, and you tried to reason that he hadn't just carried them through a storm.

The water was soothingly warm and scented with lavender salts, the smell wafting up in delicate bursts as it swirled around, relaxing all the tension in your aching muscles. As you lay peacefully, you reflected on what had happened earlier. You weren't sure you'd ever felt… You couldn't even identify what feelings you'd experienced during the arm wrestle. Shock? Embarrassment? No. It was something else, something that Lucy had noticed immediately and had been trying to get through to your oblivious self. But she was wrong, wasn't she? You said it yourself, you weren't into George, even if he did now fulfil your main criteria. Then again, so did plenty of other guys you'd met. Kipps was quite well built, definitely had muscles, but that didn't mean you'd considered dating him. He wasn't like George though - smart, funny, thoughtful George. You couldn't imagine Kipps running you a bath or making your favourite lunch, or doing any number of the things that with George felt so natural. And there were all the little things you did for him that you'd never do for anyone else. No, there were no two ways about it: you were a pair in whatever capacity that meant.

Still didn't mean you fancied him, you told yourself.

You volunteered to help George with the dishes after dinner that night. It was always nice to be able to spend time just the two of you in sync, but tonight especially you figured it was a good idea to be around him in perfectly normal circumstances. You'd chat or enjoy the companionable quiet, you'd both be at ease; nothing could possibly happen, which would give you time to prove your feelings were a fluke.

George picked up his blue rubber gloves and tossed you a tea towel. He was dressed casually, in sweatpants and an oversized T-shirt (so large that the sleeves almost met his gloves at the elbow). The radio was playing quietly in the background, giving you a welcome distraction. Whenever a song you recognised came on, you'd start humming along or singing under your breath, and George would smile at you, sometimes even joining in. Your heart leapt a bit when he did, but that was nothing, you were just happy to be sharing this moment with your friend. He stuck an arm deeper into the sink to grab something at the bottom and made a small noise. Water had splashed up onto the cuff of his sleeve. You giggled at the look of disgust he made at the wet fabric sticking to his skin. The sound died in your throat when he took off his gloves, draped them on the side of the sink and rolled his sleeves up out of the way. You were so used to him being hidden behind his giant tops, or at the very least being in longer sleeved shirts, that seeing his bicep completely exposed was a shock in more ways than one. It wasn't much wonder he'd beaten you so easily at arm wrestling with muscles like that. You wondered whether it was just his arms that were so toned, or was the rest of him the same? Was he hiding a set of abs under that T-shirt too? Were his thighs-

“You okay?” George nudged you, and you hastily looked away.

“I was just…” Come on, come on, find an excuse, your brain urged. “...thinking how this means we both got wet clothes today, if you want me to put that top in with my washing after this?” God that was lame. Not much wonder he wasn't interested in you. That wasn't the point, you reminded yourself.

“Oh,” he smiled. “That'd be great, thanks.” He leant over to put a chopping board on the draining rack, and his bicep brushed against yours. A shockwave of warmth resonated through your whole body. Oh.

“Tell you what,” you forced yourself not to stammer, “are you okay to finish up here and I'll go and grab the laundry basket?” He nodded, and you tried not to fall over your own feet as you retreated to the hallway and sucked in a breath to calm your racing heart. Oh.

—

You cursed yourself for ever starting this. No, this was Lucy's fault for pointing it out. No, still your fault.

Being around George was becoming unbearable. Not for anything he'd done, rather the things he wasn't doing. He was carrying on exactly as he always had, that inimitable blend of playful and caring, and it was driving you mad not knowing whether he meant any of it in the way you wanted him to. You couldn't say anything, of course. If you were wrong, it would mess up the whole dynamic of the group. That would hurt almost as much as any rejection. But the more things went on, the more you took notice of the little moments between you, the more your feelings grew until it felt like they would crawl out of your chest.

“What the hell were you thinking?” George snapped at Lockwood. He and Lucy had been out on a case which went badly, and now the four of you were sitting at the dining table in the early hours, George applying butterfly stitches to a cut on Lockwood's arm and you cleaning a couple of scratches on Lucy's face. The misty gloom of the night outside the window reflected the atmosphere within.

“I was thinking,” Lockwood snapped back, “that we only had to handle a couple of Type Ones, according to your notes.”

“I told you those weren't finished!”

“Well maybe next time, don't get distracted.” Was it your imagination, or had his gaze flickered to you?

“Maybe next time,” George replied darkly, “do your own research.”

“Fine.” Lockwood pushed his chair back and stalked from the room. Lucy shot you both an apologetic grimace and followed.

George began pacing round the kitchen, hands twitching angrily. You stayed at the table, knowing it was best to give him the space to say or do whatever he needed to let his feelings out. You were there if he needed you.

“Can you believe him?” It was rhetorical, you'd heard him say it enough to know, so you waited for him to continue. “We end up in this situation almost every week, because he's too reckless to wait! I know he'd rather be in the action, but he'd be able to do all that more if he'd let me give him the right information first.”

You gently waded in, trying to be reassuring. “We all know how useful your research is; he just gets overeager, especially when Lucy's involved.”

“I know you know how important it is,” his words sent butterflies through you, “but Lockwood just…” He gave a frustrated huff. “Maybe I should make him do all the legwork for a change.” You tried very hard not to think about whether George's legs were as muscular as his arms.

“I'll support whatever you decide, but for what it's worth I think you should just talk to him.”

He sighed heavily, placing his hands flat on the table and allowing his head to drop. “You're right. Thanks, y/n.” The sincerity in his voice caught you off guard, as did his deep brown eyes as he raised his head to look at you. You were already distracted by the tension which lingered in his shoulders, the rigidity of his arms as they supported his weight, the way he had leaned into the pose so much that now when he looked up his face was so close it almost filled your vision. You swallowed nervously.

“Any time. I- I have to go.” You stumbled up from your chair, ignoring George's confused stare and sounds of protest as you practically bolted from the room.

—

You lay on your bed in the attic, tears slowly soaking into the pillow you'd buried your face in. This was the end; it had to be. You couldn't carry on working for the agency like this. If George had shown any interest it would be okay - Lockwood and Lucy managed to balance being a couple who worked and lived together, there was no reason you two couldn't do the same, but it could never work being so one-sided. You'd just keep being weird, struggling to hold your nerve around the boy until it would start bleeding into cases and Lockwood would have no choice but to fire you for everyone's safety, if you hadn't already got one of you hurt by then. Not to mention the emotional hurt. It would happen either way, but at least if you walked away now you could control it.

“Y/n?” Lucy's voice came tentatively from the bottom of the steps. “George said you ran off, is everything okay?”

You flipped onto your back, drawing in shuddering breaths to recover from almost suffocating in the pillow. “You were right, Luce.” There was movement on the steps, but you kept your eyes on the ceiling. You couldn't bear to look at anyone right now. “I tried so hard to make sure neither of us got hurt, but George doesn't love me back and now I feel like even if I stay I'm going to lose him.”

The silence that followed dragged on longer than you could bear. Why wasn't she saying anything? You forced yourself to sit up.

George stood at the entrance to your room, eyes wide and lips parted.

You scrambled to your feet. “Shit! I mean, hi, um… how long have you been there?”

George continued to stare.

“I'm so sorry,” the words were rushing out of you now, “I just panicked but I don't want to make things weird so can we just pretend-”

“What do you mean, ‘doesn't love me back'?” he interrupted quietly.

You froze. There was no mistaking it: he'd heard you basically say you loved him and now there he was looking like the mere concept was so unbelievable, like the option hadn't even crossed his mind. Why would it? Time stretched on as you fought the urge to run again, as far as the ever-widening space between you would allow. Neither of you had moved, but you could feel the room expanding around you to make room for the bottomless pit you wanted to crawl into. “I…” you drew in a slow, deep breath, “I was fine just being friends but Lucy got in my head about you being exactly my type and now I think I'm actually flirting while you're still just pretending and I'm sorry…” Tears were pricking at the corners of your eyes and you hurriedly looked away, hoping he wouldn't see.

George stepped closer, and you shrunk even further into yourself. Your heart skipped a beat when he gently tilted your chin up to meet his surprisingly soft gaze. “I meant, why do you think I don't love you back?”

You faltered. Was he saying what you thought he was? “Well, I mean, I thought I'd made things super obvious and awkward but you didn't change so I thought you weren't interested.”

George's hand was still on your chin and his thumb rubbed soothingly across your cheek, wiping away the single tear that had spilled. “I thought you weren't interested! You normally go for those muscly gym guys so I figured I'd take whatever I could get with the arm wrestles and stuff, but then you started avoiding me so I thought you were done with it.”

A small laugh escaped you, and he looked at you in confusion. “Have you seen yourself?” Hesitantly, you raised a hand to his bicep, marvelling at finally being able to feel the muscle instead of just staring at it, and more amazed at the way the boy responded to your touch, drifting closer until you were barely inches apart.

“So then why did you run?” His voice was whisper soft against your face, eyes gazing down at you with an overwhelming blend of sincerity, bewilderment and something like longing. His cheeks were tinted as pink as you knew yours were.

“Got flustered.”

“Flustered? You? I don't believe you.” A smile tugged at the edge of his lips, the playfulness you were used to creeping back into his voice. It was such a relief to feel the tension dissipating from the room, to have your George back, that you buried your head in his shoulder with a giggle. He laughed too, wrapping an arm around your waist. “Oh, I see, you really want to do this? Okay, let's see ‘flustered y/n’ at their best.”

You yelped in surprise as his other arm hooked under your legs and swept you off your feet, your arms flying up round his neck for support. His arm was tense across your back but he looked the most relaxed he'd been since he walked in, and he shifted you closer to press a quick kiss to your lips before setting you down on the bed and sitting beside you.

“Lucy's going to be very smug about this, you know,” he nudged you.

“I know,” you whined, burying your face in your hands. “Rock paper scissors for who has to tell her.” George laughed again and placed his arm around your shoulder, pulling you closer as you leant into the embrace.

“Is this just a ploy to get more hugs?”

“Is it working?”

In response, he brought his other arm around your waist and kissed your forehead. You smiled, leaning up to kiss him properly, and he reciprocated eagerly.

—

Lucy had left George alone on the steps to your room once you started your confession, giving you both a bit of privacy, and decided when he didn't come back downstairs immediately that things had either gone very badly or very well. She believed, and hoped, that it was the latter. Her suspicions were confirmed when she came to tell you she'd made breakfast and found you fast asleep, wrapped in George's arms.

[himezoro]

love wins all (a roronoa zoro story, part 2) (smut)

tysm for your support on part 1 !! this story means a lot to me, i've had a lot of vision to write it etc. it's not proofread, and it's written by a tired lawyer who's been up for the past 15 hours because of a few cases. anyway, thanks for your support, and thank you for making my days so much more bearable. ilysm !! ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

inspired by this song!!

@sanjisprincesswifey i know you liked the first part, so i'm dedicated it to you (i hope it doesn't suck lmao)

warning!! : nsfw (minor DNI), gender (female), mention of (Y/N), slight angst ? angry sex/cheating involved.

.・゜゜・ 1 hour before ・゜゜・．

Zoro’s years of superhuman training were a benefit here. His body was moving on its own, as fast as he could, barely paying attention to the people he was bumping into with his broad shoulders. Just like a race horse, he had blinkers preventing him from seeing the rejoice faces of the villagers preparing for the reception, dancing to the musicians’ plays on the streets and basically creating a path to the palace where the festivities were to take place.

These poor people don’t know what they’re talking about.

While he made his way closer to the palace, his mind was too busy thinking about the last words you two shared rather than thinking of an infiltration strategy. From the way your plumped lips traced thousands of “I love you” to the harsh “I hate you” they uttered when he took off, from the laughters they shared to the silent cry they failed to conceal. From the lewd sounds they let escape when his cock thrusted into your wet cunt, to the sensual moans they purred onto his lips.

For a second he felt his heart sink, and a weird feeling to his stomach. Was it anxiety because he was about to enter a restricted area? Mad, that you forgot about him so easily? Jealous, that another man, and a ridiculous one he thought, got to spend the rest of his life by your side? Sick, that a man that is not him, was to touch you in ways only he could?

He couldn’t pinpoint the right word for what he was feeling, and he frankly did not care. His goal was set, and it was to enter that palace and get to you. How would he achieve that was apparently not an important matter to him, because he just barged in, breaking through the guards with undiscovered strength, not giving a damn about the consequences.

I’m sorry guys, we’ll have some mess to clean up before tasting the banquet.

His ears almost failed to hear the guards crying for help and threatening to call the Marines, as he climbed all the stairs he found at once, his heart knowing that at the top, they led to you.

And it did.

.・゜゜・3 minutes left・゜゜・．

Zoro was facing a long corridor with a large room down the hall. The doors were slightly opened, as if he was awaited all along. Even though he knew he probably was not the person you wished to see, he still felt like the small light peering through the doors was a way to your heart. Like there was hope.

His pace slowed as he approached your doors, and his hand lingered on the door before slowly pushing it open, his good eye widening at the sight he was bestowed with.

There you were, in all your glory, your back facing the door as you looked at yourself in the huge mirror standing in front of you, gently trying out earrings that would complement your hairstyle of the day. The white dress you were wearing hugged your curves perfectly. The corset on top carved the shape of your waist, only for it to enhance the curves of your ass. The silk material left little to the imagination, and he could stay watching forever. He swore he could smell your perfume from here, already enamoring him much more. He could see the glistening of your skin as the so-short sleeves of your dress lovingly fell off your shoulders.

You were a mythology goddess. A legend, only for him to see.

And he had a chance to conquer.

・゜゜・00・゜゜・．

« So I guess my invitation got lost in the mail? » you heard the hoarse voice speaking through the opened door of your quarters. You kept on looking at yourself in the magnificent mirror standing in front of you, looking at how the white dress hugged your form, pretending not to have heard the said voice, ignoring the immediate chills it sent down your spine. You knew who these words belonged to, and so did your racing heartbeat.

You slowly reached down to the table by your side to pick another pair of earing to try out, letting Zoro enter as you calmly and sternly responded.

“The only thing that appears to have lost itself here, is you.”

Zoro scoffed as he fully entered your quarters, closing the door behind him as he stands, looking at you intently. Gosh, you were even more beautiful than in his memories. The way your hair fell so beautifully around your face. He missed your comebacks, your confidence, the way your brain seemed to understand his better than anyone else, better than he knew his own.

He slowly walked behind you, so close that you could feel his hot breath tickling the nape of your neck. He only looked at you through the mirror in front of you, feeling like, at some point, this would help him keep his façade. He bore his poker and stern face while taking in your presence.

Gosh, how he wanted to pin you to that mirror and kiss you until your lips turn bloody red from how much he would bite them.

“Looking great here. Nice big ring too.” he said, the hot breath of his lips tickling your ear.

It was hard for you to ignore how fast your heart was beating, and the tension between the two of you. It was electric, deep, high. You hated the effect he had on you, how he would always manage to have you wrapped around his finger. How he could make you kneel in front of him, happily opening your mouth to welcome his hot length. How he could make you melt from the simplest of words.

How he could break your facade, break your heart and confidence under a minute.

Your eyes met through the mirror, and that’s when you noticed his new scar. It hurt, knowing that you did not have the opportunity to mend his wounds and see his progress.

“I can’t say the same for you.” You lied, breaking the eye contact by focusing on removing the earrings you had just put on.

Zoro laughed, never looking away. He agreed: beside you, he looked like a picturesque character. You were the epitome of beauty, an ethereal image. If he were Sanji, he would have probably died on the spot.

Your eyes met again.

“You could have told me you were getting married. I had the right to-“

“How dare you?” you cut him mid-sentence, turning around to face him. His new built caught you off guard, but you didn’t let that stop you from finally, cutting the air.

“Zoro you better not finish that sentence. You have no right whatsoever to know a thing about my life. Not after what you did.” You explained, clear annoyance and a hint of hurt in your voice.

“Oh, is that how it is? How it’s going to be, (Y/N)? Of course you should have told me ! How dare you not tell me?” Zoro responded, mad, stubborn, scratched. “You can’t just get married, with this creep, and believe that I don’t have MY say in this? Or are you stupid?!” he continued, not noticing he started yelling.

You slightly pushed him away to get behind him, clearly needing the space. And he was surprised he let you push him, following your movements, wondering what your dress would feel like under his touch. He stared at your dress, your bosom and the way the corset enhanced the roundness of your boobs.

He wanted to eat them out right now and tear this corset apart.

“Oh you’re the stupid one here! Zoro you cannot expect me to tell you a thing about my love life, or anything about my life for that matter, when you walked away, in the middle of the night, saying your dream was more important, right after making love to me, and leaving to the sea without as much as a note?!” you stated, yelling the last words.

“It was not the right time for us and you know it! Come on, don’t act like I forced my decision on you. You know it was the best choice.”

“I beg your pardon?” you asked, walking closer to him, closing the distance between the two of you to state your thoughts loud and clear. You shook your head, gathering your thoughts after Zoro’s unreasonable rambling.

“Let me ask you. What do you call someone leaving in the middle of the night, saying how his dream is more important than the night he just spent with who he called to be the love of his life, while the later cried her heart out? Do you call that a consensual decision? A mature talk? Enlighten me, Roronoa Zoro. Please, enlighten me.”

Zoro just dived into your eyes at your words. Enlighten me. The words echoed in his ears, and for a couple of seconds his brain just stopped working. Noticing his lack of response, you sighed, trying to walk past him to finally put your veil on.

But this time, he did not let you past him.

Zoro grabbed your hips and looked into your eyes before diving in and kiss you. The taste of his lips surprised you, they seemed more mature, but still as soft as they were that night. With Zoro invading your space, it was hard to think, hard to breathe, hard to resist breaking the tension lingering after all these years. Before he could slide his tongue pass your lips, you pulled back, looking at him with half-lidded eyes, whispering, afraid the universe might hear you;

“What are you doing?”

“Enlightening you.” he whispered with a smirk, his breath tickling your lips.

And these words were enough to send all senses of hurt, bitterness and ache to hell. You let him kiss you, putting your hands on his arms as he kept a firm grip on your hips. He kissed you hard, feral. His tongue parted your lips, twirling around yours as he let out a deep groan. He has been waiting for this for years, and feeling your lips respond to his sent him to heaven. He could not help but let his hands glide to your ass and give it a light squeeze, making you yelp. Your reaction made him laugh, a small, intimate laugh only you could hear.

You slowly pulled away to catch your breath, and he took the opportunity to tell you what he really meant to say before rambling the selfish nonsense he let out.

“Don’t marry him. Come with me.” He whispered, his lips meeting the side of your neck, using his tongue to tickle the soft spots he never forgot: your submaxillary triangle, your trapezius.

“What are you talking about?” you responded, still a little out of breath, and mostly, distracted by his shenanigans.

“You got me baby, loud and clear.”

The dress started to bother him, and he took the opportunity to tear the bottom to the side, creating a slit on your left leg, taking advantage of it to massage your thighs and groping your ass once more, with more force and determination. He tapped your ass, a small gesture to wrap your legs around his waist as he pinned you to the mirror.

And when your legs tightened around his waist, he knew your answer.

And so he did not waste any time anymore. He massaged your breasts through the corset of your white dress, admiring how your boobs threatened to escape only for him to lick at your buds, cupping them in between his large hands. Your hands fell into his mossy green hair, slightly pulling on the ends as his tongue danced around your clavicles.

Being the skillful swordsman he is, and having experience with his mouth and hands, his left hand went under your dress, thanks to the slit he made, so he could play with your clothed cunt, feeling its wetness forming. There are so much things he wished to say at that moment, but the way his erection irritated his pants kept him from uttering the slightest of word. And knowing him like the back of your hand, you let out a small laugh.

“Are your pants too small to contain your little friend here?”

“If you call it little then I really should jog your memory.”

With that, he pushed you against the cold mirror surface a little harder so he could unzip his pants, letting his length sprung free against the white silk.

“Be careful, you might tarnish it you idiot!”

“Like you and I care.” he proudly stated, sliding his hand under your dress and pushing his index into your cunt, while rubbing circle on your clit. He never took his eyes off you, appreciating every little of your reactions, bearing your face into his memory.

“Gosh, I missed the feeling of your pussy around my fingers, you know that right?” he desperately uttered, feeling his already hard cock getting harder. “Gosh (Y/N), I missed everything about you.” he added, pumping harder, adding another finger into your pussy, your moans getting louder and lewder.

“And I missed the feeling of your cock, Zo’..” you whimpered, a dark light sparkling in his eye as he heard your plea.

“Well you won’t miss it anymore sweatheart.” he said, removing his fingers out of your cunt and pushing up your dress some more, so he could set your white lace panty aside and slide into you.

“Hmmpf!” you whimpered in extasy, the simple feeling of his cock stretching your tight cunt already answering your needs. He waited for you to adjust and looked at you, his eyes pleading for consent. Once you nodded and gave him a soft, intimate smile, Zoro started pounding into you at a feral pace. His nails dug into your thighs and ass as he held you tight, pumping his thick cock into your warmth. You threw your head back on the cold mirror surface as you tried to keep some sense into you, tears forming in your eyes from how passionate your partner was.

“G-Gosh (Y/N), you’re still taking me so well… completely m-made for me..” Zoro managed to say, as he could feel your pussy tightening around his shaft. This felt so real, so much better than in his memories.

“Please k-keep going!” you plead, only for him to hold you tighter, spanking your ass in the process.

“I’ll k-keep only if you answer my question.” He said, slowing his thrusts, going excruciatingly slow, torturing the both of you.

But he needed to know.

“Are you coming with me to the sea?”

He stared into your eyes for as long as he could, trying to determine what went on in your head.

“Zoro..”

He thrusted hard into you, looking at you again.

“Answer me.”

He thrusted harder, his eye never leaving your beautiful face.

“I..”

He thrusted harder, so hard you swore you could feel it in your guts.

“(Y/N). You love me. I love you. Come with me.”

“Y-Yes for God’s sake I’ll c-come with you!” you cried, only for him to smile in pride and thrust into you without anything as a break. He felt ecstatic and tried his best hiding his smile into your neck, giving it sloppy kisses before giving you one more passionate kiss as you both came together, your dress a total mess, both your bodies a sweaty mess, but a loving one at best.

He looked at you and saw the smile he waited to see for so long. He gently put your legs to the ground as he looked through his pocket.

“Don’t tell me you’re looking for a condom now that we’re just done” you muttered, earning an eye-roll from the swordman.

“I’m looking for the ring I got you, dumbass.” he bluntly stated, pulling the ring out of his pocket before putting it in your hands.

“Let me take off this ugly ass ring so I can give you mine.” He said and you let him have his way, gently laughing at his usual stubbornness. He slid his ring on your finger with a prideful and loving look, trying to conceal his blush by looking away.

“So, what’s the plan now Zo?” you asked, gazing into his good eye with more love than you thought ever existed.

“There’s none. We’ve got all the time in the world.” he responded, kissing your left hand before he heard a familiar ruckus down the hall, curtesy of his captain.

“I promise you’ll get used to it.” he shyly said as he held your hand tight, definitely not letting go, love wins all, after all.

[logansargeantsbabymom]

Too Good to Say Goodbye (SNEAK PEEK)

Logan Sargeant x Fem!Reader

Warnings: cursing, Hurt/Comfort & Implied Smut

(THIS IS A SNEAK PEAK! IT'S GONNA BE A LONG ONE BUT ENJOY THIS LITTLE SNEAK PEAK IM GIVING YOU) I also have a lengthy Logan smut in my drafts but I'm no where NEAR done yet.

Summary: Y/N is tired of constantly being dissed by Logan and he doesn't seem to care, at least not until it's too late.

(it’s uploaded now)

F1 masterlist

Follow my instagram account (THATS STRICTLY FOR THIS BLOG) for updates on when i post and fun stuff like that!

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I clasp my jacket closer to my body as I wait for Logan to open the door of our shared apartment. It's pouring rain and my dumbass forgot the keys, I sigh as I pull my phone out, dialing my lovers number.

one ring

two rings

three rings

four- declined.

*new text from "Logie Bear🐻💙"*

Logie Bear🐻💙: Babe I'm on the sim, give me a few.

Me: I'm out here in the pouring rain and I left my key, You said you'd unlock the door 5 minutes ago.

Logie Bear🐻💙: You fucking made me crash.

Logie Bear🐻💙: I'm coming.

A scoff leaves my lips as I shove my phone into my soak jean pockets that stuck to my skin, a few minutes later I hear the lock click and the door swigs open revealing a less than happy Logan.

"Damn, were you watching our home videos while waiting for me to open the door?" Logan laughed as he took in a soaked me before side stepping so I could walk in.

"I've been outside for 10 fucking minutes in the pouring rain Logan and you're making jokes?" I almost screamed at him

Unbelievable, all I do for him and this is how he treats me?

"Woah babe, take a joke," Logan starts before his phone starts ringing "Yeah? Oh for sure, right now? Uh huh, Okay I'll hop on. Yup yup, just give me 5. I'm grabbing a snack" with that Logan hung up the phone "I'm hoping back on the sim with the boys, so just take a shower and dry the floors, you're ruining the wood."

I wanted to scream, I'm ruining the floors? I wouldn't be ruining the floors if you would've opened the door 10 minutes ago like you fucking said you would.

I made my way into our shared room, grabbing my clothes and speaker before making my way to the bathroom. Once in the bathroom, I connected my phone to the speaker and started playing "Hold Me While You Wait" by Lewis Capaldi on a low volume before stripping out of the soaking wet clothes that stuck to my skin.

My shaking hand turned the tap to hot as the water started spurting out of the shower head, which made me sigh thinking about the shower head I gave Logan every time we showered together. Today makes 3 weeks since we last fucked, and that was also probably why I'm so aggravated at everything he does. All this pent up sexual tension between us is driving me crazy.

Before stepping into the now steamy shower I turned the volume up on the song currently playing. Once in the tub, I let all my problems wash off of me and down the drain as I let the boiling hot water hit my skin as I just stood under the warmth of it. After what felt like 3 minutes of pure bliss and silence I hear a faint knock at the door before hearing it open. Peaking my head out the shower curtain I'm greeted by Logan just standing by the door.

"Hey Logie, care to join me?" I said in a low & seductive voice, watching as he steps fully into the bathroom and closes the door. A victory smile makes its way on my lips as I pull myself behind the curtain once more, quickly lathering myself in foamy soap.

I can hear Logans footsteps getting closer to the shower, but instead of getting in I hear him pick up my phone, turn the volume down, set my phone back down and as he's leaving he mutters "Not tonight. Boys are on the game and they're complaining that your depressing songs are too loud."

Are you fucking kidding me?

That had been my last straw. In one quick movement I turn off the shower, throw my robe on and march out of the bathroom and into his sim room.

[yes-divine-ruler]

Babysitting for the Detective - Colin Zabel

x fem!reader

CW: age gap, fingering, sex

wc: 4.6k

Colin was stumped on what to do. He'd been called in to work for a potentially big lead on the case they were working on, but he had no one to help look after his son. His mother had gone away and his usual babysitter had left town for summer break. His choices were close to none, until he called the only person he thought he could to get some advice.

"Hey Zabel," Mare didn't seem phased by the late night call, Colin knew she was already in the office.

"Hey.. Mare.. I need some help. It's about Mikey," Colin rubbed the side of his face as he sat across from Mikey in his rocker, who was asleep and tightly swaddled.

"Oh shit, is he okay?" Colin could hear Mare getting up in a hurry and leaving her office.

"Yes! Yes he's okay," Colin quickly convinced Mare so she wouldn't rush to his house, "I just don't have anyone to look after him tonight, I know we've made a potential lead and you all need me at the station."

"Oh right," Mare paused for a moment to get her breath back, "There's a girl I know.." Mare pauses again, a lump forming in her throat, "used to be good friends with.."

"Mare? Are you okay?" Colin clutched the phone to his ear, noticing her change in tone.

"Yeah sorry. Anyway, there's a girl I know who can look after Mikey for you, she's just a college kid, but real good with Drew when she comes around, I can call her?"

Colin sighed a breath of relief knowing he could trust Mare, and that he didn't have to let his team down.

"That would be great, give her my address if she's free, I'll meet her and then I'll come down," despite his relief, Colin still had to make sure this girl was someone he could see looking after his baby.

"Sure, call you back," the line went dead, and Colin put down his phone.

Mikey still slept peacefully in his rocker as Colin took a second to glance at him. It wasn't easy being a single working father, who had the constant pressure of wanting to be perfect for his son. He wanted to be home with him all the time, watch his son grow up, but he couldn't without making a living. A living he needed to give his son the best life he could.

Colin got up off the couch and walked towards sleeping Mikey. He reached down and picked up the rocker as carefully as he could, and relocated him to the doorway of his bathroom.

Colin took the opportunity to shower and get ready for work, keeping an eye on Mikey as he stood under the running water.

Mare had left a message for him in the meantime, saying the girl was free, her name was Y/N and she'd be around in 10 minutes. Colin didn't get the message until he stepped out of the shower, and then the doorbell rung.

"Shit," Colin cursed, wrapping a towel around his dripping body, trying to figure out what to do next.

When the doorbell rang a second time, Colin had no choice but to rush to the door, already feeling bad he needed your help last minute and was making you wait.

Trying not to slip on the floorboards, Colin rushed to the door, opening it only a few inches to peek his head out.

"Hi! I'm Y/N, Mare told me you needed a babysitter?"

Colin was too busy staring at you, he almost forgot to reply. Hell, he never thought he'd set his eyes on someone so beautiful in his life. Feeling his heart pick up pace, he clears his throat to distract himself and opens the door wider.

You were just as much in shock to see the town's detective in nothing but a towel. His wet hair covered his forehead and little droplets of water covered the expanse of his chest. He was so much younger than you'd imagined, and also a lot more attractive.

"Sorry! Yes, come in," Colin invites you inside and shuts the door behind you.

"Also I have to apologise for coming to the door in just a towel, time has been tight tonight," Colin shoots you a sheepish smile as you awkwardly stand in his front passageway.

"Mikey's just in my bedroom, I'll get dressed and bring him out," you nod with a small smile, and watch Colin's back as he rushes back towards his bedroom.

Making yourself comfortable, you sit on his sofa with your hands clasped tightly in your lap. Your eyes wonder Colin's living room. You notice that, based on the lack of furniture and decor, he was living here alone with Mikey. Toys were sprawled across a small, blue play mat and soda cans littered the coffee table. Looking further into the kitchen, you noticed a pile of dishes by the sink and an abundance of empty feeding bottles. You could just sense from his home that Colin was overwhelmed, and it made you glad you could help him.

"Here he is! He's awake!" Colin appears from his bedroom holding his son close to his chest, now clothed in a simple blue button up and black dress pants. You kinda missed the towel.

You took a moment to allow Colin to come over to you, and shortly he sat down beside you. You lean in closer to get a glance at Mikey's little face.

"He's the cutest baby I've ever seen!" You shriek in excitement, reaching out and slotting your finger in his palm.

Mikey babbles and let's out a small giggle as you make a face at him. Colin's heart only picks up pace seeing how good you are already with his son. He knows Mikey is in safe hands.

Mikey leans back and sits on Colin's lap. Colin keeps  his hands around him as he bobs him on his knee.

"Yeah he's pretty perfect," Colin chuckles, leaving a small kiss on Mikey's head, "he's a pretty easy baby, luckily for me."

Mikey's wide eyes stare into yours, and your heart almost bursts. Surprisingly to Colin, he leans over and opens his arms out for you to hold him.

"Is it okay if..?" You ask, biting down on your bottom lip as Mikey begins to fuss.

"Oh! Yeah of course! He's never usually this friendly with anyone else," Colin lets out a small laugh as he passes Mikey to you.

Mikey takes to you immediately, resting his small chin on your shoulder and wrapping his arms around your neck. You have to stop yourself from squealing from how cute this little boy is.

"Okay so, I'll be out for the night, I'll be back at about ten-thirty," Colin stands as he begins to explain Mikey's routine, "He had his bath at five, and I fed him his bottle, so really all I need is for him to be put to bed in his crib."

You nod along as Colin shows you where the bottles are kept in case he wakes up hungry and explains anything else you need to know, including where Mikey's bedroom is down the hall.

"There's some snacks in the fridge, help yourself to anything you want, or order in, here's a twenty for now," Colin takes a twenty-dollar bill out of his wallet and sets it on the kitchen counter.

"Thank you," you say finally, as Colin collects his work files and keep cup.

"No, thank you! I know this is short notice and I appreciate you coming out to help," Colin reaches out and brushes his hand across your upper arm in gratitude. His touch has your face heat up, and you hope he doesn't notice.

"I'll see you in a few hours, thank you again!" Colin leans over and plants a kiss on Mikey's head and before you know it, he's escaping out the front door.

"Okay little guy," you rock Mikey in your arms, "let's play and then I'll tuck you in."

Colin got home just after ten-thirty.  The thought of his babysitter was distracting him more than he'd like it to. He spent most of the night with the same image of you standing at his front door playing over and over in his head. He didn't know what is was about you that was so captivating, apart from your undeniable beauty. Part of him wondered if it was just your willingness to help that had him all worked up. Or the fact that Mikey had taken a liking to you straight away, like some weird sign from the universe.

When Colin finally made his way inside, he set everything down in the kitchen. His eyebrows knit together as he scoured the living room, expecting to see you on his couch. In the process, he noticed his house was a lot tidier than it was when he left. You'd taken the time to clean up for him. The pile of dishes were gone, and the soda cans were all in the trash. Colin ran his finger tip along the top of the microwave. Spotless. Not an ounce of dust on any surface. As if you could get any better.

Colin lays down his coat, and heads to Mikey's room first. He opens the door and sees little Mikey on his tummy in his sleep suit, soundly asleep in his crib. Colin breathes a sigh of relief seeing his son tucked up in bed, and closes the door softly behind him.

On his mission to find you, he stops short at his bedroom door. Illuminated by the light in the hallway, he finally sees you, sprawled across his bed and snoring softly. Colin chuckles to himself, and his pushes the door open wider, letting more light in. He'd hate to wake you up, but knew you had to get home, and he had to go to bed.

The light from the hallway filtering into the bedroom was enough to stir you from your sleep. You groan and rub the sleep from your eyes. Something hard pressed against your chest, and feeling for it, you realise you'd fallen asleep cuddling the baby monitor.

"Hey, you awake?" You hear Colin's voice from the doorway and you sit up immediately. Shit. You weren't supposed to fall asleep, especially not in his bed.

"Oh! Colin, I'm so sorry I didn't-" Colin laughs and steps into the room.

"Can I turn the light on?" He asks with grin, and after you nod your head, he switches it on.

You eyes squint as they adjust to the harsh overhead lighting. Colin leans against the door frame with his arms crossed over his chest, clearly amused you’d found your way into his bed and fell asleep.

You get up quickly, readjusting your shirt as you stand by the bed. Colin says nothing, watching you reorganise yourself to leave.

“I’m really sorry, your bed just looked so comfy,” you say with a small laugh, praying that he wouldn’t mind.

Colin just laughs and nods his head.

“No no, it’s totally fine, I don’t mind at all,” he bites down on his bottom lip, his gaze filtering over your outfit. The tiniest shorts he’d ever seen. And he didn’t mind it.

“Okay, I guess I should get going?” You ask as if it’s a question, looking up into his dark eyes. They glaze over with something you don’t quite recognise. Colin was trying his hardest to keep himself together. He hadn’t had another person in his bed since he split with his fiancé. It was definitely a sight for sore eyes, and brought on so many emotions. Not like he wasn’t already totally captivated with you to begin with.

“I’ll go get your money,” Colin finally speaks, backing out of the room and back towards his belongings in the kitchen.

“Oh shit!” You curse under your breath, rummaging through your bag for your house keys. It looks like you left them at home, and you know for a fact there was no other way you could get inside. Not until the morning anyway, when you could ring your landlord.

“Everything okay?” Colin appears beside you, holding a fifty-dollar bill.

“Um yeah- sorry. I just- I forgot my stupid house keys,” you ramble, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear as you continue to search through every compartment of your bag, hoping they would appear. How embarrassing.

“You didn’t leave them anywhere else, did you?” Colin asks sheepishly, scratching the back of his head.

“Ugh- I don’t know! I don’t remember ever taking them out of my bag,” you shake your head in frustration, and drop the bag back onto the sofa.

“Hey don’t worry about it, do you live with anyone? Anyone we can call?” He was quick to try and work up a solution, like a good detective, but they wouldn’t fix the problem. Not at this time of night.

“I live alone, and my landlord won’t be available until the morning,” you explain wearily, slowly accepting the fact that you might need to camp out in your car for the night.

“Look, you can always stay here if you’d like?” Colin offers, nervously rubbing up and down his upper arm, “it’s late, and it’s not super safe to drive out there right now.”

“No no! I would hate to intrude! Honestly my car is fine,” you laugh nervously, picking up your bag and slinging it over your shoulder.

“Don’t be ridiculous. Just stay here, take the bed even. Honestly, it’ll be my pleasure.”

You stare up at Colin as a smile spreads across his face.

“I know you think it’s comfy,” he teases with a sing-song tone.

You let out a small laugh as you consider it. It’s not like it’s a wild idea, you were already there. And he was right, it’s not the best time to be driving home anyway. Or to sleep in your car.

“Are you sure? I’ll definitely be on the couch,” you ask with hesitation.

“I’m positive. Look, I’ll go get changed, and then we can sit out here for a bit so you don’t feel so uneasy staying at a weird man’s house,” Colin jokes, pointing a thumb towards his bedroom.

“Okay, I don’t think you’re weird,” you say with a laugh.

“Okay good, I’ll be back,” Colin leaves towards his bedroom and closes the door.

You sit back down on the sofa, wondering what the fuck just happened, and why you couldn’t just remember to bring your house keys. In the meantime, Colin’s heart raced as he changed out of his work clothes. He didn’t know why he was so quick to offer for you to stay over. Was it to spend more time with you? He tried to persuade himself to tone it down. He was convinced you could see the way he looked at you. He didn’t want to come off as some creep.

Unbeknownst to him, you didn’t think Colin was a creep. You didn’t know much about him, but you felt safe with him regardless. Maybe it was because he was a cop. Or a single dad. He wasn’t a threat, he was more like a big, cuddly bear.

A sexy, big, cuddly bear wrapped waist down in nothing but a towel and with the most handsome face you’d ever seen.

Colin appears in the living room again in a pair of sweats and plain white t-shirt. You caught a whiff of his cologne as he passed by you, and the smell pleasantly filled your nose. He even smelt delicious.

“So,” Colin sits down beside you, “how did everything with Mikey go? Was he good?”

“He was an angel,” you gush, holding your face in your hands, “he went straight to bed with no trouble at all. He hasn’t stirred since.”

“Yeah he’s a great baby, I’m so fortunate I get a full 8 hours most nights,” Colin laughs softly.

“How was work?” You ask tentatively, unsure how much he could actually share, especially with the classified job he did.

“Yeah it was alright, we got a lot of work done on the case. Again, I’m so grateful you could make it over tonight,” Colin praises, offering you a big smile.

“It’s my pleasure, I barely had to do anything!”

“You cleaned the whole house! That definitely wasn’t nothing!”

You blush as you look down at your hands. He was really nice, it made you feel all tingly.

“It was no trouble at all, I’m happy I got to help out.”

The conversation only grew from there. You spoke about college, how Colin ended up in Easttown, and shared stories about your lives. Colin ended up opening up about his ex fiancé after grabbing a couple of beers. You sympathised with him, resting a hand on his knee to show your support.

“It was over long before it ended. I just haven’t had the time to get back out there. Plus, most women aren’t jumping at the chance to date a single dad,” Colin jokes, but his mind is distracted by the hand you’d placed on his knee. The heat from your palm radiated onto his skin. It sent weird shocks of electricity up his spine.

“If it’s any consolation, I think you’re a great guy. Any girl would be lucky to have you and Mikey in their lives,” you look up into Colin’s eyes, your hand still on his knee.

The room falls silent as you stare intensely into each-other’s eyes. There was an obvious sexual tension between the two of you, that neither of you were smart enough to acknowledge. Or maybe Colin was just choosing to ignore it.

Colin eventually clears his throat, ending the moment to look down at his watch.

“I guess I should get to bed, I didn’t even realise it was past twelve.”

“Oh shit, really?” You laugh, “I’m so sorry, get to bed.”

“Oh I’m sleeping here miss, you get the bed,” Colin gets up and leaves to his bedroom. He comes out with a pillow and a blanket.

Shocked he’d even offer his bed up, you shake your head, not willing to accept that.

“No way, you have a big boy job, that requires big boy sleep. I’m on the couch,” you say firmly, taking the pillow and blanket from his hands.

Colin scoffs, and with a mischievous smirk, snatched the pillow and blanket back.

“No I will not have a lady sleep on my couch, get in the bed before I lose it,” he jokes, sitting back down on the couch.

Standing before him, you huff and lunge to grab at the pillow again. But being unsteady on your feet, you fall forwards, right into his lap. Horrified at yourself, you try and get up, to only rub your chest up against his face by accident.

Colin’s eyes widen as he processes the very accidental, but very fortunate, series of events that just unfolded.

Your face burns red as you steady yourself again on your feet. You just shoved your tits in this poor man’s face!

“I am so sorry, I did not mean to do that,” you giggle nervously, “I’ll just go to bed.”

“Hey,” Colin reaches out and grabs onto your arm to stop you. For the millionth time that night alone, you catch yourself in a trance as you stare into his eyes.

“I didn’t mind it, not one bit,” Colin takes a stab in the dark and doesn’t let go of your arm in the process.

When you don’t reply, he lets out a small sigh.

“You’re really beautiful, anyone ever tell you that?”

Your lips curve into a small smile as the embarrassment dies down. How was he so good at making you feel all hot and flustered? He was so sickly sweet. In the best way possible.

“Not really,” you mumble, as Colin’s hand travels down your arm until eventually, he grabs onto your hand.

“Well, you are, I mean it,” he breathes out, his lips parting only slightly.

Your gaze flickers between his lips and his eyes. They almost look like they’re begging. Begging to be taken by yours in the nastiest, most sensual of kisses.

What washed over you? You don’t know. But you lean down and connect your lips to the detective’s. The detective you just babysat for. The sexiest damn detective you’ve ever laid eyes on.

Your haste decision pays off as Colin kisses you back. His hands hungrily reach out for your hips, and he pulls you down into his lap. Your knees straddle either side of his thighs.

Colin is hard almost instantly. It had been so long since he’d kissed someone, let alone had someone sit in his lap. He didn’t care about anything else right now but you on top of him. He was totally enraptured by you.

It showed as his tongue darted out of his mouth to part your lips. You eagerly let him in, settling your hands on his broad shoulders and squeezing softly. Your hips involuntarily grind down into the bulge in his sweats as he tilts his head to the side to get a better angle at your mouth. Colin moans softly into the kiss, his grip on your hips only tightening.

Your mind goes blank as your fingers bundle up his shirt. All you wanted was to get it off. Just to see that sculpted chest again. No matter how inappropriate this might be right now.

The kiss breaks momentarily as Colin tugs his shirt above his head. His lips are back on yours in an instant, and your fingertips explore the expanse of his bare skin.

“Fuck,” Colin mutters out of the kiss, as you grind your hips down into him a second time.

“Are you sure you want this?” He asks, his lips red and swollen as he asks your permission.

“Yes, please,” you say quickly, connecting your lips back to Colin’s like they were a drug.

Colin slides you off his lap, laying you down on your back on the sofa. His big, warm hands ride up your shirt until you bring it over your head. His kisses litter your jawline, and then down your neck. He’s slots between your open legs, his bulge positioned deliciously against your heat. You pulse in need for him. This was not how you were expecting things to go, but you wouldn’t want it any other way.

Colin unclasps your bra and tosses it onto the floor. He immediately takes one of your taunt nipples in his mouth, suckling on his gently. Your back arches up off the sofa as the first little moan leaves your lips. Colin’s cock twitches just hearing the sound. He needed more.

Your shorts are next to go, leaving you in only your panties. Your fingers tangle in Colin’s hair as he runs as a fingers up your clothed slit. A small wet patch taints the fabric.

“Colin,” his name rolls of your tongue with urgency.

Colin let’s out a breathy laugh, circling your clothed clit under the pad of his thumb. He applies just enough pressure to have the heat build between your legs and knots form in your stomach.

His fingers slip into the waistband of your panties next, pulling them off your legs. The sight of you left bare in front of him almost has him salivating.

“How is every part of you so damn fucking perfect?” He growls, applying pressure back on your clit.

Breathy moans escape your parted lips as your eyes fall shut. Colin takes the chance to spit directly on your little bundle of nerves before he’s circling against it again.

“That feels so good,” you pant, your nails scraping his scalp.

“You’re so wet baby, fuck,” Colin’s fingers dip down to your sopping entrance. It glistens with your sweet, sticky arousal.

“Yes! Yes oh my god,” you whine as Colin uses his middle finger to part your folds and sink inside you. His finger thrusts in knuckle deep, filling you up between your plushy walls. He thrusts it slowly, rubbing up time and time again against your sweet spot. Every nudge against it has your whimpering and your eyes rolling into the back of your head. When he adds a second finger, he curls them up into the spot he felt swells to his touch.

“Oh fuck! Right there!” Your eyes open as Colin begins to pick up the pace of his fingers, teasing your sweet spot blissfully.

His thumb rests against your throbbing clit again, rubbing small circles in sync with his thrusting fingers. Pleasure overwhelms all your senses. Your thighs begin to shake around his hand as a strong wave of intense bliss washes over you. Colin groans as you come undone, watching your perky breasts bounce as you fuck yourself against his fingers, riding out your orgasm.

Heaving to get your breath back, you lay still while Colin crawls on top of you, admiring the way your eyes glaze over in post-orgasm elation. He tugs down his sweats and boxers, letting his erection spring out from its confines.

You take it immediately in your hand, not surprised by his girth. You knew he’d stretch you to your limits, and you were more than ready.

You stroke him in your palm, lathering his length in his viscous pre cum.

“I need to feel you,” Colin begs, capturing your lips in another sloppy kiss.

“Then fuck me, detective,” a sick smile spread across your face as you guide his cock towards your soaked entrance, pushing his tip between your folds.

Colin’s eye widen in pleasant surprise. Never had he ever have someone call him detective in bed. And god, did he love it.

“Oh I will sweetheart,” Colin pushes his cock between your pulsing walls, and you invite him in with ease. Your tight cunt swallows every inch he has to offer you.

“Fuck!” He hisses, bottoming out inside you, “my god, your pussy is so fucking tight.”

Your fingers claw at his bare shoulders as he begins to thrust his hips. Colin brings your knees to your chest. He fills you to the brim over and over, angling his hips in a way that pushes him inside you deeper than ever before.

Colin wraps his arms around your shoulders, holding you close as he snaps his hips against yours. A scream nearly leaves your throat as his tip brushes against your sweet spot.

“Shhhh,” Colin breathes into your ear, “Mikey’s sleeping.”

Your lips press together in a tight line to stop yourself from waking him up this late at night. You try your hardest to contain yourself as Colin continues to bury himself impossibly deeper inside you.

“Fuck fuck fuck- I’m gonna cum,” Colin pants into your ear, sending a shiver up your spine. He was so fucking hot.

Your fingernails run up his back.

“Cum for me, detective,” you whisper seductively into his ear.

Colin is quick to pull out, stroking himself to completion all over your dripping cunt. The image of his hand wrapped tightly around his cock and the sound of his moans as he finishes will forever be imprinted in your brain.

You hold your legs to your chest as his cum begins to seep from your cunt, basking in the moment for a little while longer.

Colin uses his shirt to scoop up his cum and throws it onto the floor. He runs a hand through his tousled hair as you lay sprawled on his sofa.

“Fuck that was…” he trails off, resting a hand on your knee as you rest your feet in his lap.

“Incredible,” you finish for him, giggling as he laughs in disbelief.

“You’re right, incredible is definitely the word.”

“So much for just babysitting huh?” You cheek, sitting up and sitting close to him.

“Looking after Mikey and daddy, aren’t you a good girl,” he teases, leaning over to press another kiss to your cheek.

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[chaengluva]

Birthday

Regina x Fem!Reader: 1.5k Words Masterlist

Requested: Yes/No: Send Requests!

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Regina George was panicking.

She had to last a whole day pretending that she forgot about your birthday then rush home without you, set up everything, invite everyone over, then convince you to come over to her house, she knew it was going to be hard especially pretending to forget, she told everyone else to pretend that they forget too, which she will know will be hard for you but it will be worth it by night time.

Meanwhile, at your house, you woke up happily because you knew it was your birthday and you couldn't wait to see your girlfriend, you excitingly got out of bed and changed into light wash denim jeans a pink tank top and a black leather jacket, well it was really Regina's but she hasn't noticed.

You happily walk downstairs and you're instantly greeted by your parents,  "Happy Birthday!" They both say, giving you a hug, "I can't believe you're 18 already!" Your Mom says, pulling away from the hug, "Time flies." Your Dad smiles, they both tell you to sit on the couch then leave, a few minutes later they come back holding a few presents. You take the card first,  smiling while reading the whole thing. 

After you read the card you place it down and pick up one of your presents, you take a small box and carefully open it, your eyes go wide when you see it's from Tiffany and Co, you open the box and gasp at the beautiful necklace inside, "Thank you so much!" You smile, your parents smile back at you, taking a few pictures.

You open almost everything, all except for one present, your Mom said that you have to open that one later which leaves you a bit curious. You go to the kitchen, getting some breakfast. "Got any plans tonight?" Your Dad as you eat your cereal. You nod your head smiling, "Yeah, Regina and I have a date." Your Dad smirks slightly, "Well have fun!" You smile at his excitement, you put your dirty bowl in the dishwasher then rush outside to the car with your Mom, she usually drops you to school on her way to work. 

"Have a good day baby!" Your Mom says, you smile back at her, opening the door then walking into school, it was tiring walking around the whole school before you finally found your girlfriend, she was sitting with her friends Gretchen and Karen, they were talking their asses off, as they always do. You happily sat next to Regina, smiling when you saw how her eyes lit up when she saw you. 

"Hi baby." She smiled, pulling you in for a kiss, you smiled back at her, waiting for her to say something but it never came, the silence was loud and Regina knew she would accidently say something so she changed the topic. "Is that my jacket?!" She asked, with a jokey hint of annoyance. You smiled proudly, nodding your head, wrapping your arms around yourself, "Yeah." 

There was another moment of silence, but this one lasted longer, it lasted until the bell rang and you were starting to get annoyed. When the bell rang you got up and headed to home room without a word, Regina sighed, looking at her friends, she was already feeling extremely guiltily, "Regina, It's okay, It's gonna be worth it." Gretchen told her, giving Regina some comfort.

 Thinking that your girlfriend had forgotten your birthday mad you feel annoyed and sad but it didn't help that no one else remembered, the whole feeling made you space out in each class and you didn't hear the bell ring for lunch. "Y/n!" You heard someone yell loudly, you look up and see Janis, waving her hand in front of you. You smile at her, grabbing your stuff and leaving the classroom without another word. 

You see your girlfriend and her friends sitting at their unassigned assigned table, you hope that she had remembered by now so you grab your tray of food and  walk towards the table, but hope is all drained out when you hear what they were talking about. "We can do it tonight." You hear Karen say, "Tonight?" You question, sitting down on the table Regina looks into your eyes, smiling before saying, "Me and the girls are doing a project tonight." Pulling you in for a kiss right after, you quickly pull away, "But I thought we were hanging out tonight." Regina giggles slightly, "Why would you assume that?"

You look down, playing with your fingers, "Oh. No reason." You say sadly, Regina just goes to to talk with Gretchen and Regina while all you feel is empty inside, you want to get up and leave but your body doesn't let you, for the whole lunch you sit there, you don't even touch your food. When the bell rings, once again you get up without a word, when your out of sight Regina let's out a huge sigh of relief , knowing she's got past the hardest part. 

The rest of the day felt like a blur to you, the only thing that you felt like doing was going home and crying, the fact that no one remembered your birthday expect for your parents broke your heart. As soon as the last period bell rang, you rushed out of the school making sure not to even interact with Regina, you saw her and her friends outside by her car which made you roll your eyes, you hoped on the bus, putting your headphones in and then headed home. 

When you got home you fell on your bed you wanted to cry to hard but the tears never fell, you remember that you went all out for Regina's 18th birthday, but she can't even remember yours. The bedroom door opened at your Dad gasped in shock, "I thought you were going out.." He started, sympathy in his voice. "Yeah I did too, but Regina didn't remember my birthday." He sighed sadly, "I'm sorry baby, do you want to have some cake with your mother and I?" You shake your head, "I'm not really in the mood right now."

He nods, closing the door then walking downstairs, smiling at your Mom, knowing that you had no idea what was going on, yes, Regina got your parents in on it, so they knew Regina didn't actually forget.  A few minutes after  your dad left you felt your phone vibrating, you pulled it out and rolled your eyes seeing it was from Regina, but there was small hope in you that she finally remembered, so you answer. "Hi Gina." you smile. 

"Hi Princess." She says, making you blush, as mad as you are at her, she still has an effect on you. "Anyway so me and the girls want to go out, I need the jacket for my outfit so could you please drop it off." You sigh sadly, you had your hopes way to high, "Oh. Um. Yeah sure."  You say, quickly hanging up before she could say anything. 

You grab your keys then go downstairs, you tell your parents that you're going to Regina's to drop off something, they nod with slight smiles on their faces. You get to her house and walk up the stairs, you ring the door bell and just wait for her to answer. After what felt like hours, she opens the door, "Thanks baby." She smiles, kissing your lips, but you don't kiss back, you look behind her and see that it's very dark inside, you're curious so you step inside making Regina smirk and close the door behind you. 

For a few seconds it's quiet but then the lights turn on and everyone jumps out, all your friends and family were there and you had the best reaction on your face, the whole house was decorated and a few minutes later your parents walked in. "You'd really think I'd forget princess?" Regina asks, wrapping her arms around your waist, you giggle, she gives you a bag, you open it up and gasp seeing the prettiest dress inside. "Go and get changed baby." 

You rush on upstairs to her room, getting changed quickly, everyone goes quiet when you walk downstairs, you look breath-taking, Regina takes your hand and pulls you over to the couch, pulling out the gift that your parents had earlier, the one they said you had to open later, "Your Mom made this for you." 

You open the present, you smile brightly seeing that it's a photobook of all your years, you slowly go through it and Regina takes a few photos so she has them to keep, she smiles seeing when she started to come in, which was when you were about 14, the two of you were so young and clueless of where you would be today.

The party was amazing, Regina got you so many expensive and heartfelt gifts, you also got a few gifts from the other guests, when everyone left, you and Regina went up to her room, you change into her hoodie and sweats then jump on the bed. Regina gets on the bed, placing a hand under the hoodie you a wearing, touching your bare waist. She leans in, lips close hover above your hear, "Ready for your last present baby?" 

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