#i swear to god can i have just one body positivity post without being reblogged by trans fetishist blogs like last time that would be great

[toc-the-elder]

Oh well, at least this top makes my tits look great.

[writefightandflightclub]

I really enjoyed your Nathan fluff 🥺 we love this angry peach fuzz king 👑💖 would you ever write him being comforted after having a nightmare? 💕

First of all, LOL @ “angry peach fuzz king” 🤣🤣🤣

Second of all, here you go! 🧡 I will warn you - I think I forgot the fluff a little bit though. It became more hurt / comfort? More angst than expected? It ends nicely though and comfort is given to Nathan - but only after I’ve subjected him to rattling around in his own head and house for a bit.

Through the looking glass (Nathan Bateman x GN!reader)

Summary: Nathan has nightmares after The Incident. After so long alone, he doesn’t realise how badly he needs a little comfort - and maybe he doesn’t believe that he deserves it.

Author’s note: hopefully this isn’t too similar to All Better. I know they both take place post-stabbing, but I tried to give this a different focus. I know I could have made the nightmares based off of anything given the ask, but this timeline / focus seemed most sensible to explore the character.

Warnings: nightmares following traumatic incident (a stabbing); mentions of blood and injury - not graphic. Self-harm (punching the bag until injury); Body horror if you squint (some gruesome descriptions occurring in-dream, but fairly abstract); swearing; implied alcoholism recovery if you squint; mentions of therapy; Nathan mildly injured in fic; reader offering comfort.

Rating: MATURE for themes mentioned above.

GIF: by @santiagogarcia (this whole gifset is magic- check it out + reblog!)

Nathan wakes up breathless, plastered to the covers by a sheen of sweat - and not in a good way. On instinct, or out of habit by now, or maybe somewhere between the two, his palm slides over his body to the site of the wound.

He is so slick that he half-believes he is soaked with dank, deep blood again, until his fingers trace over nothing more than a half-concave, half-ridged scar. The lack of searing pain is the next point of evidence leading him towards an alternative conclusion. He’s not dying (again).

It’s just another gruesome nightmare.

Although… there is nothing “just” about it.

The nightmares are pretty brutal. Brutal enough for him to wake with ragged breaths and a hammering heart, his sheets dampened and coiled up around him. Enough that it takes effort to sift through the layers of terror and distinguish reality.

With what can only be described as a whimper, Nathan swings his legs over the edge of the bed, bringing himself into a seated position and bracing his head in his hands until his racing heart levels.

In his mind, he’s telling himself to be logical about this. That Ava hasn’t truly arrived to finish the job she started; but logic is not the safe haven it used to be.

She could come back.

She’s still out there, somewhere, and Nathan distinctly got the impression, last time, that she was vehemently not a fan of him.

His hand trembling, Nathan reaches for the glass of water by his bedside, glugging it down so eagerly it spills into his bushy beard.

Since the… accident? Malfunction? Functioning just fine, actually? Failed experiment? Greatest achievement known to man? Attempted murder? (Truth be told, Nathan isn’t quite sure what to call it, so he simply calls it The Incident.)

Since The Incident, Ava has begun to regularly visit him in his sleep.

The visitations are not waning with time. In fact, they are happening more often, not less. They are happening more since you moved into the house.

It’s a bad fucking time to have quit drinking.

You’d been sent by the board. Something about Nathan taking “tortured genius” a slice too literally. Something about him being in isolation too long and needing another human around in the compound.

Well, that’s not technically true, is it? The shit all started when he opted to get social, after all.

Fucking Caleb.

Before that, he was doing just fine.

Nathan doesn’t like it at all - having you here. Being watched. Observed. Having someone monitoring his actions. Waiting for him to either fuck up or prove himself.

Ironic really, considering where he kept Ava. The experiments he ran on her.

She’d probably find it poetic, if she could truly understand such a concept.

At the thought of her, Nathan physically shudders, and reaches for an old vest to haphazardly mop the excess sweat from his skin. Then, he balls up a change of clothes and tracks nude to his wet room, feeling relief as the luke warm water sluices over his skin.

He watches himself in the mirror as he stands there naked. It’s not a vanity thing - at least not any longer. These days, he examines the way his form has changed since it happened. He lost some of his muscle and bulk during recovery, whilst unable to exercise, his arms slightly smaller and his abs softer. His stomach a little more rounded.

There’s also the puckered scar, of course - that permanent reminder of where he was skewered through the chest like a piece of kebab meat.

His gaze travels up over his body, until his eyes settle on his still haunted face. He doesn’t have his glasses on, and somewhere between the blurred vision, misted mirror, clouding steam and sluicing water, his reflected face distorts. It transforms - for the briefest of moments - into her.

Still amped with adrenalin from his harsh awakening, this briefest flash sends a surge of panic zipping through Nathan’s chest, his heartbeat racing so hard he can feel the pounding of blood in his ears.

Fuck, he curses, reaching his arms out to brace himself against the shower wall above him, his body trembling and his head dipping down between the cradle of his broad shoulders as his legs threaten to buckle.

He turns the water cold, until it is practically glacial and thundering on to the back of his neck, subduing this spiking heat.

She really did a fucking number on me, didn’t she?

It’s true though.

Ava is haunting him. When he sleeps - and at other times too.

Nathan didn’t know robots could do that. Didn’t know they could spawn ghosts.

Nathan doesn’t believe in ghosts, of course… but he does believe in trauma and its effect on the brain. He at least concedes that it is natural to continue to feel afraid; but this?

Being dogged by the spectre of her taps into Nathan’s deepest insecurities.

After all, there is nothing a genius fears more than doubting his own mind.

Nothing a God fears more than his own mortality.

And the man? Turns out, there is nothing he fears more now, than dying alone.

With a ragged breath, Nathan towels off and pulls on his grey sweatpants, tugging on his black zip-up hoody over his bare chest. And then, keen not to return to his damp, tangled sheets, he tracks towards the kitchen - mainly for want of any more favourable option.

Of course, he had returned to the compound after The Incident. Something about that many fibre optic cables being a bitch to lay down. Sunk cost fallacy and all that - too much already invested.

But it possibly wasn’t the best choice for his recovery.

Nathan has certainly gotten more used to walking down that hallway since he returned from the hospital, and yet he still finds himself holding his breath until he is free of it. Still finds his pace is just a little faster as he passes through. His gaze deliberately averted from that spot.

Once, you’d found him lying in it.

Lying in that exact spot, his body arranged like a crime scene photo, his eyes closed.

Hey, it’s hardly his least healthy coping mechanism, is it?

What in the fuck are you doing, Nathan?

Re-enacting my death, obviously.

Uh-Kay…. A beat. A devious smile. Shall I get some popcorn?

Absurd as it was, he had laughed. Laughed for the first time since it happened, and, with an extended hand, you had helped him up off the floor.

Still, now that he’s alone, he does not dwell in the corridor, colder and darker as it is without your light in it, and he tries not to think about your face or hers as he pads to the kitchen.

When he arrives though, he bypasses it entirely - heading out on to the decking, the crisp night air soothing his hot skin.

He wants to be outside.

There are too many ghosts in his house now.

He has tried to shake it. Tried to desensitise himself to Ava’s face. Spent longer than strictly necessary poring over footage of her.

He built her. Shouldn’t that take the fear out of things? Not to mention the fact Ava’s face was simply a composite of some manipulable nerd’s wank bank browsing history.

Fucking Caleb.

Still, once Nathan had looked her in the eyes and seen a rage that was all too human, things seemed a hell of a lot different.

Nathan crosses to the punchbag on the deck -lit by creeping dawn- on instinct, or out of habit, or maybe some combination of the two, his unease riling him enough to sock some punches at its midsection. Right at the equivalent site of his corporeal puncture.

He punches so hard that the skin on his knuckle splits, but Nathan doesn’t stop. He throws punch after punch until his hands are scathed and bloodied, and a trail of spit hanging from the corner of his mouth. Until he hugs the bag - the closest thing he has to a warm body to hold - and slides down it, coming limply to his knees, wiping his face on his sleeve.

He stays there, dead eyed and still for some time, the pain in his hands raw and singing. Unpleasant, but better. Better than what he was feeling, and worse all at once.

He considers his tired, cumbersome body, and contemplates remaking the world one more time. Uploading his mind into a machine or some shit, so that he doesn’t have to contend with the fragility and failings of his own existence.

He stays there, until some motion in the interior of the compound causes the light and shadows to dance differently over him, and he looks up to see your figure there, cast in a soft halo of yellowed light.

He tips his head up slightly, opening his mouth as though he might cry out to you for help, but no sound comes out - only a thin, dry croak.

So, instead, Nathan watches you for a moment, moving seamlessly around his kitchen as though it is your own. Maybe it is - more yours than his now.

Observing you like this, through the tall, cinematic windows, it is as though he peers in on another world entirely. Something less resembling a nightmare.

Lighter than that. Something more like a good dream, albeit a good dream that Nathan cannot be part of. One he can only ever watch, from the outside looking in, always fated as he is to be on the other side of the glass.

Truth be told, you haunt him too. You represent everything he could have and yet doesn’t deserve.

You appear in his nightmares and his dreams, in various terrifying and beautiful incarnations. Many variations of which his therapist would have a field day with, he’s sure - or, she would, if he’d ever fucking call her.

When you first arrived here, he was plagued by grotesque visions of you. Grotesque visions of the skin being peeled back from your body. Sometimes, circuitry beneath, and other times, muscle and bone. Sometimes, Ava’s face was buried beneath the chilling slip of your fleshy mask.

Sometimes it is a better dream. Sometimes you save him. Sometimes he saves you.

Sometimes it is a good dream. Ava isn’t there at all. But the good dreams never seem to last for long. 

Sometimes you kill him, and sometimes...

The glass door slides open.

“Reenacting your own death again, are you?” you tease, though not unkindly, interrupting the spiral of Nathan’s incessant thoughts.

A lump forming instantly in his throat, Nathan swallows thickly, and looks up at you helplessly with a thin, joyless smile. He snorts as though it’s funny, but it really isn’t. “Over and fucking over.” 

You nod once, and, without hesitation, you extend your hand towards him. Your gaze cuts through him as you search his face and he feels suddenly see-through, as if he’s about to be hit with some Shyamalan-esque twist. Was he the ghost all along? Did he die here after all?

If so, is this purgatory because Ava is here too, or heaven, because you are?

Christ. So fucking schmaltzy, Bateman.

After hesitating, Nathan takes your hand and you yank him to his feet, drawing him inside, through the looking glass.

The room seems warm on the other side. It feels… safe.

“What happened?” you ask, as you look down at your joined hands, your thumb painting a smear of red across his split knuckles. 

You mean now. What happened now, but Nathan’s mind harks back further than that. In his mind, everything is connected. Every thing threaded to another. This one smear of blood to that weeping flower of red.

The thought -the thoughts, all of them- halt him in place, his feet firmly planting on the ground. Nathan’s hand clenches tightly around yours as though it is a lifeline, as he is cast adrift on this familiar crimson tide, his face growing increasingly angular and stern.

“She...” He swallows, unable to complete that precise thought, his eyes dropping down to his feet.

You turn your body towards Nathan as he croaks, still not letting go.

Your eyes flitting around his face, attempting to search his eyes, you tentatively step closer, sliding your palms slowly over his tense shoulders, feeling them rise with an uneven, stuttered breath as you do so.

He’s so tired. He’s so very, very tired.

And it happens all at once on the exhale.

Suddenly, your arms are tugging him closer, and his face is contorting as a violent smattering of tears beads in his long lashes. You are encasing his body in your embrace and rubbing circles into his back as his buzzed head sags all too willingly toward the junction of your shoulder, your fingers splaying along the smooth flesh at the nape of his neck and pads dancing over the gentle prickle of his hair. You are shushing and soothing and reassuring and squeezing and smoothing and cradling and Nathan can feel it. Can feel his heart race in his chest and…

Finally.

Finally, his heart is not pounding because he is reliving his death.

It is pounding because he feels alive again.

When was the last time he cried, even? The last time someone really hugged him? He doesn’t remember the last time. The serendipitous combination of Nathan willing to be vulnerable, and another being willing to hold space for his pain is an all too rare thing.

There’s a reason -or several - he’s so emotionally constipated, after all.

Fuck. I’m taking a huge emotional shit right now.

Nathan remains in the welcome circumference of your arms longer than is strictly necessary - until the tear trails over the bridge of his nose begin to feel cloying. Until his breaths steady, and until his thoughts and ego creep back in. Until he notices the way his hands are clasped at your waist like claws, fingers sinking into your softness, and he thinks to release you.

Then, he leans away, a weight on his brow making his expression stern.

He waits for you to judge him, another swallow trailing thickly down his throat.

However, your eyes are kind and level, dancing with soft concern. Not with judgement or satisfaction or pity, or with anything he fears.

It is refreshing not to feel so afraid.

Finally.

“She…” Nathan begins again, finally finding courage. All at once his eyebrows shoot up towards his hairline. “She fucking stabbed me.”

You take his words in. You listen.

His “reveal” is simple. Plain and factual. A little indignant. Kinda salty. It’s not overly emotional, or articulate.

But it is enough.

Your eyes narrow, and you nod slowly, trying to understand the true meaning beneath his words.

You even reach up to cup Nathan’s face, his springy beard a cushion beneath your gentle palm as you hold him. “Yeah, genius,” you tease, with a tentative, lopsided smile, dropping your arm all too suddenly, perhaps as you catch yourself. “I got that from context.”

In response, Nathan chucks air from between his teeth, bringing his hand up to comb through his beard - perhaps to obscure his involuntary smile, or perhaps chasing your tender touch, the impression of it left warm on his cheek.

As he brings his hand up, your brows draw together, and you hook his bloodied paw delicately in yours, examining the wound, and leading him gingerly across to the couch as though his whole being might be hurting along with it.

It is.

You order him to stay put while you fetch the first aid kit, and then, in stages, Nathan watches you with fascination as you painstakingly clean and tend to his wounds, without ever being asked to.

He watches you carefully swipe the angry red away from his skin, and, to his overactive mind, it’s all connected. This red is one and the same with the flower of blooming red from The Incident.

Ava hurt him then, and she is hurting him now too.

And you…

“Going to tell the board about this?” Nathan asks, his voice weak and scuffed.

You search his eyes, holding your words back for a moment before answering. Then, you launch them on a big breath. “Fuck the board, Nathan. I told those assholes to stick it.”

Nathan blinks in confusion, shaking his head, his hand flourishing emphatically through the air. “Then… what the fuck are you still doing in my house?”

“Well. I’m… here for you,” you admit, sucking in air through your teeth, your voice shrinking. “If you want that.”

Well, that’s news to him.

Welcome news, perhaps?

You’re not watching him at all, are you? Not observing. Not asking him to evidence his humanity. Not waiting to see whether he fucks up or proves himself.

Instead, you’re seeing him. You’re seeing him and you’re not running.

Nathan had begun to think that maybe he was the nightmare. He’d begun to think he might always be haunted.

Always alone. That he might die that way; again.

And now, here you are.

Nathan thinks about that. He could so easily revert to his old ways, in this moment. Of pride and ego and stubborn independence.

But, perhaps those assholes from the board got a few things right - he’ll admit.

Maybe he had been in isolation too long. Maybe he didn’t need to take “tortured genius” quite so literally.

And so, Nathan almost protests. Almost rejects your presence and your comfort and pushes you away. But the truth is, he’s just so… tired. He’s had so many nightmares, and this time, he’d like to be on the other side of the glass. He’d like to step into that dream.

Nathan takes a deep breath, and releases on the exhale. Releases more than air.

He slowly, ever so slowly, shifts towards you on the couch, angling his body until he can safely dip his head towards your lap, his nose pointed in towards your abdomen and his knees curling around you.

“Th.. this okay?” he asks weakly.

You throw your splayed hands up into the air in surprise as the weight of Nathan settles there, but as he curls his arms around your middle and shuffles closer, you ease into it. You snake your fingers in intricate caresses over his head and neck and shoulders.

“Yeah, Nathan. This is okay,” you soothe gently, voice taut with emotion.

You comfort him.

And finally, Nathan does not need to peel your skin back to know what’s underneath.

He knows you’re not a robot, and that, as your kind touch finds him corporeal, that he is not a ghost.

He closes his eyes. And this time, when he next wakes, he knows that whether the dream is bad or better or good, it doesn’t matter. Because you will be there with him.

He wants you with him.

It’s not at all natural to him, to have you around. For the longest time, he didn’t like it. It didn’t come instinctually, and he has formed no familiar habits.

It isn’t easy - he doesn’t make it easy.

But he wants it to be.

And, in your arms, he can finally dream that it will all work out. What’s more; he can dream he deserves it, too.

[krabstick32]

The Problem With Having Hot Weather

Pairing: Giyuu x Reader

Synopsis: You and Giyuu decide to train on a hot day. You deal with sunburn and the consequences. Tags/warnings: No warnings!! This is mostly self-indulgent fluff, but there will be a shirtless person and sunburn. If you’re not comfortable with that please do read something else!!

Word Count: 1,315

A/N: hello! this is the first time i’m posting my writing, so I hope ya’ll like it <3 if you end up liking it, pls do like and reblog!! Oh, and if you have any questions, thoughts, or feelings about this fic, feel free to send me an ask or a message, i won’t mind (*´꒳`*) enjoy!!

You could feel the heat bouncing off the ground, as drops of sweat trailed down your face and onto your clothes. The sun beat down at you mercilessly as you grip your sword tightly, your eyes watching every single movement the man in front of you made. He was motionless, save for the wind rustling against his hair and his clothes. 

Shaking off your heat-induced haze, you made your move in a fraction of a second, raising your sword high above your head before swinging in a strong, solid arc at what was now thin air. Frantically, you turned, your eyes scanning through the clearing until you felt a hard bonk at the crown of your head.

Your grip loosened and you drop your wooden sword, your body following after.

“Tired already?” Giyuu sighed, watching you cradle your head on the floor, before using his training sword to deliver a soft pat to the area he hit you. It wasn’t really painful. He knew his hit only managed to catch you off guard, if not bruise your ego a little. “That was the worst swing, and this is only our third match.”

“Give me a break. It’s too hot,” You moaned, letting your arms flop against the gravel. Turning to your side, you grab the sleeve of your white uniform blouse, using the meager bit of excess cloth to shield you from the sweltering rays of the sun. 

“I swear, this heat should be illegal.” You murmur.

With your eyes closed and your face hidden in the shade of your arm, you didn’t notice him reaching for the top button of his uniform shirt, or for the next, and the next, and the next. He was pulling the white undershirt of his uniform off his shoulders, and in all his sculpted glory, he was suddenly topless, using the piece of cloth to wipe at the sweat that was gathering on his skin. 

You only noticed how absolutely shirtless he was when he moved into your line of vision, sitting on a nearby rock directly in front of your eyes. The muscles on his back and the abs on his stomach were quite hard to miss.

“It should, but that’s not an excuse.” He grumbled, seemingly unaware of how he looked to you right now as he leaned back without a care in the world, not even stopping as he carried on with wiping at his skin.

You could feel the blood rushing into your face, your skin turning to a dark shade of red. Your mouth felt dry (and your heart probably skipped a few beats), before you huff out a little indignant cry, using it to mask how flustered you were getting. Nothing about this situation was fair. 

“T-That’s not an excuse, says the shirtless man. At least you… At least you can breathe in this… ridiculous weather.” In a pathetic attempt of calming down your rapidly beating heart, you placed a hand over your chest, and you did your best to brush off his state of undress.

Because really, you understood why he took off his top. It was high noon, on what was positively the hottest day of the entire season, so every layer of clothing was an unnecessary layer of heat. But there was nothing fair about how good he looked without a shirt on. Perhaps if you were a man, or simply more confident in walking around with only your underwear to shield your dignity, you’d follow him and take your shirt off too. But alas, you were neither, and you were left on the ground, dying from thirst and gawking at his impressive figure.

Apart from the fact that you liked him a lot, the gods decided that your little crush on him simply wasn’t enough, and decided to fan the flames - bless you, curse you, whatever their intention was - by showing him shirtless. He looked downright sinful, with wonderfully sculpted muscles, and skin lightly slick from sweat... Gods, you wanted to throw yourself off a cliff with the direction your thoughts were going.

“It’s not my fault it’s hot.” He argued, looking straight into your eyes.

“Oh, please,” you grumble, immediately averting your gaze to the side, feeling the sun cook your flaming skin to a crisp, “It is one hundred percent your fault why you’re hot.”

You only realized what you said when the words left your mouth, and for a moment, the training grounds were quiet. Your eyes were wide, and his eyes were wide, because ohmygod, you did not just say that.

Please, let it be a heat-induced hallucination, please let it be a-

“What?” He looks at you, confusion clouding his clear blue eyes, the slightest hint of a blush painting his cheeks.  

“WELL,” You jump up quickly, the sole movement the fastest you’ve been the entire time the two of you have been training. “Are you feeling highly parched? Because I’m feeling highly parched! Do you want some water? Okay, you got it!” 

Not even looking at Giyuu once nor waiting for a response, you turned tail and ran as fast as you could without looking too suspicious. Even if you liked him, you don’t think your heart would be able to take another second of his presence while he was shirtless and after you said… that. If the sun hasn’t burned you alive by now, then your embarrassment has surely done the job.

Once you returned and offered him the promised drink, he didn’t comment on the flaming blush settled on your freshly-washed skin, and you didn’t question as to why he suddenly had his uniform shirt back on while his head was suddenly sopping wet, or why there was a trail of water leading to him and the pond a few feet away from the training grounds.

I’m throwing myself off the highest cliff after this.

EXTRA:

As the day went on, onlookers would catch you and Giyuu engage in awkward small talk and silent glances when the other wasn’t looking. 

The blush never really did leave your face even after training. The two of you sparred until dusk, and neither of you could look at the other’s eyes without being reminded of what happened at noon. Because for one, your mind would always display images of him without a shirt on and because two, Giyuu couldn’t believe that he accidentally, unintentionally, undressed in front of the girl he liked.

However, when you were cooling down and tried wiping your skin, you immediately hissed at the burning sensation, and Giyuu did too when he tried to do the same. 

When you two looked at each other’s face, you and him rushed to the butterfly estate. Both of your faces were burnt, and red - smiling hurt, moving hurt, even touching it hurt.

So once Shinobu saw you and the Water Pillar knocking at her office door, she ushered one of you in. Giyuu insisted you get treated first, so he left to wait outside the hall.

Shinobu sighed as you stared up at the ceiling of her office. You were completely red in the face, as the effect of the sunburn and from something else, she could take a wild guess.

“(F/N)-san, a sunburn won’t get you this red, you know.” Closing the jar of ointment she used on your burnt skin, she set it aside on a tray to use on Tomioka once you left. 

“Shinobu-san,” You murmured quietly, eyes not moving. “I should train during hot weather all the time. That’s the only acceptable time to train.”

“Hmm? And why is that?” She humored you, despite having a good guess as to why.

Slowly, you curled in on yourself, hands stopping a centimeter away from your flushed face to cover it, before answering in a small embarrassed voice “O-oh...No reason.”

Shinobu laughed. Her guess was spot on.

[crimsonbluemoon]

Working For Love: A TerrorMoo Story 7/17

Still sick, still trying to be on time with my posts. Sorry if I’m not responding to people, its just been a really busy week and the holidays are a bit of a mess. I’m hoping that when I go on vacation after Christmas I’ll answer asks and stuff. For now, please enjoy ^.^ 

Previous Part

Start from the beginning

Brock wasn’t a quitter. 

If anything had proved that over the past three months, it was his improvement in the gym. Once a nervous wreck who was too hesitant to try anything but the treadmill, Brock had started to branch out after losing more weight. The health articles and helpful advice from the guys at the gym (he’d even go as far to say his friends) had explained that doing cardio was great, but needed to be paired with healthy eating and weights. The free weights were still too daunting to approach (the men that lingered there had biceps the size of Brock’s head!), but the weight machines weren’t too intimidating. So Brock finalized a plan, and after his walk on the treadmill had finished, he set his sights on a new part of the gym to conquer. 

But it wasn’t as simple as Brock had originally thought; each machine had different weight ratios and knobs to alter the machine, and Brock was hesitant to touch any of it. The clanking of the adjustments felt loud to Brock, despite knowing that nobody around him would even take notice. They were plugged into their music and their own work-out routines, just the same as Brock was when he was in the zone. The old feelings of being watched came back full force as he tried to adjust the seat, nearly dropping a swear when the latch pinched his finger. It wasn’t a terrible pain, but more of an embarrassment for messing up something as simple as a seat adjustment. His face flushed as he stared down at the first machine, wondering if it was supposed to be a sign. Distantly, a memory sung to him like a siren, casting a wave of insecurity over his anxious soul. 

“You really can’t lift that? Your arms must just be for decoration, Brock, because they don’t have any muscle on them. We need to get you to a gym or something.”

Brock’s anger and resentment of his ex was no longer a gaping wound, but a scar he gave little thought to anymore. The longer he spent away from the rose-tinted image he had of their relationship, the more he understood their flaws. Sure, Brock had some responsibility in their discourse, something Craig never refused to acknowledge anytime the topic came up. Some of the nitpicking he did wasn’t always needed, but used as a defense mechanism when feeling bad about himself. And there was his struggle to try new things, despite his ex being willing to take risks on Brock’s tastes and hobbies. But he wasn’t a martyr, either; Brock could make peace with the fact that his ex treated him like an expectation over a gift. Like he simply thought that Brock should be there by his side until he decided he no longer needed him. Maybe until he found someone in better shape with the arm muscles he’d always ragged on Brock for not having. 

The scars were small now, but at times like this, they still whispered in ways Brock struggled to ignore. 

“God, I hate this machine.” The familiar voice didn’t cause Brock to jump as often as it used to, the warm body by his side making his toes flex pleasantly in his shoes. He glanced in confused silence to Brian, who didn’t hesitate to plop down onto the machine that Brock had been staring at for two minutes. “The calibrations are always so specific and I don’t like how hard the seat is against my ass.” 

“I thought Tyler told you to wear a hat,” Brock said, trying (and partially failing) not to think of Brian’s rear pressed up against hard objects. Craig would be proud, which wasn’t a comforting thought. 

“Tyler also tells Mini he’s not interested, yet lets him come here and sexually harass him without making him pay for his gym membership.” Brian skimmed the weight options of the machine that Brock knew his friend used on a daily basis. “Just can’t trust a man with that poor of taste. So I think one of the elliptical machines is wearing my hat right now.”

“He’s going to fire you one day.” They both knew it wasn’t true; despite his refusal to follow the dress code, Brian was Tyler’s right hand man at running the gym. It was common knowledge to most who frequented the gym often, especially with how much time Brian spent there. Brock doubted that Brian would ever really take credit where it was due, because he wasn’t helping Tyler for glory or recognition. He seemed genuinely invested in helping his friend’s business thrive, which compared to Nogla’s constant promotion of the establishment at his apartment complex. 

“And never see this beautiful face again? He’d had to close down from all the broken hearts.” Brian’s little smirk always sent Brock’s heart into a skittish flurry, though by now he’d learn to lean into the sensation over fighting it. Brian’s lovable personality was so comforting and warm that he couldn’t help it; he felt safe showing his weaknesses to Brian. From how often the other members at the gym reached out to him for questions or help, it was obvious the feeling was common. He wanted to show Brian how intricate he was to making the gym a welcoming environment. 

“What are you doing?” Brock asked instead, taking a step back when Brian finally clapped his hands and pushed off the seat of the machine. 

“Alright, this should be the right settings for you. Take a seat and tell me what you think.” The command didn’t hold any authority or sway, but Brock found himself following Brian’s request when a hand on the small of his back lead him to sit down. Guiding him each step of the way, Brian’s voice stayed eased when he wrapped his hands around Brock’s, adjusting the grip he had on the handles of the arm press. “Keep your fingers facing away from you so you have your strongest part of your grip parallel to your chest. It’ll help you get a better push when you lift up. Don’t use your feet, or you won’t get the same tension in your tricep and it’ll lesson some of your work-out. And make sure to take a good breath before starting your reps, okay? I started you small with weights, but you should be straining by the end of ten pushes. Think you can try this?” 

“Just don’t laugh when I can’t get past one.” Brock tried to make it sound like a joke, but he remembered the phantom pinches from his ex that littered the saggier part of his arm. He’d always held more power in his legs, nothing he’d been ashamed of before the break-up, so the little pokes and comments hadn’t been a passing thought for Brock back then. Now, as he stared at the arms preparing to push the handles of the machine up, Brock couldn’t stop thinking about it. 

“That’s one more than you could do yesterday.” But Brian just made it so easy to stomp out the ghosts of the past with his candid words and positive aura. “And that’s something to be proud of.” 

“Right.” The word was weak when he whispered it, fingers nervously dancing along the soft grips of the handles. His focus turned internal, flexing the muscles in his hands once and nodding. “Right, okay. Here I go.”

And surprisingly, when he pushed into the motion of the machine, it moved. It wasn’t the steadiest of movements, and his arms shook when they came down, but he didn’t fail. Brock almost forgot to hold up the weights, but a quick reminder from Brian to ‘breathe and go again’ had him right back into the swing of things. He took a slow and steady pace, trying to only focus on the motions of his arms and the little hints of help Brian provided. He didn’t get to ten the first set, eight being far too much for him before he dropped the handles down. But Brian looked over the moon at his attempt, and Brock had never felt like such a winner for something he didn’t complete.

“That was great!” Encouragement poured from Brian like a water spout, hands clapping onto Brock’s shoulders to show his excitement. “You did eight of em, Brocky. You rock.” 

“I didn’t get to ten, though.” Despite his response, Brock let himself lean into Brian’s comforting touch, which kept him from sinking into negative self-talk. 

“Seven more than you thought you could do, right?” Which was true enough to make Brock nod. The smile didn’t wipe off Brian’s face as he led Brock to another machine, using the same slow and encouraging tactic as before. The attention was appreciated but confusing to Brock, who wondered how Brian had managed to sneak the time away from his actual duties at the gym. 

But 20 minutes and six machines later, Brock got his answer. 

“Hope you enjoyed your little date.” Tyler seemed less prickly when he tossed out the words, his glare falling into an eye-roll with little heat. “Cause I’m clocking that as your break.” 

“It was worth it.” Brock doubted Tyler meant the threat because he wasn’t a bad boss. If anything, Tyler was coming up with an excuse to not write Brian up for ditching his duties. But the brightness of Brian’s eyes proved he meant his reply, even when he gave Brock a wink and moved away to argue with Tyler. Leaving the gym that day felt different, his muscles already protesting when he shifted the car into gear. He was sure he’d feel the pain tomorrow, and the pain the next day when he did the routine over again. But that was okay, because he was okay. 

Brock wasn’t a quitter, but it was nice to have Brian in his corner anyways.

Fun times at the gym for Brock and Brian! Its like a cute little first date. Hope you guys are enjoying this story, its been fun to write. As always, like, reblog, and let me know what you think! <3

[vernonfielding]

From heaven they sent

Story No. 31 of my Season 7 Countdown Project. THE END! THIS IS IT!

Summary: “You want to hold her?”

Jake holds his goddaughter for the first time. Takes place during Ava. (Read on AO3.)

It’s only as Terry is bent over the bassinet, hand sliding under his daughter’s delicate head, cupping the warm weight of it in his palm and thinking again how precious this life is, how fragile, that it hits him: Jake has never done this before.

(Truthfully, he doesn’t know that for sure, but he’s almost certain.)

Terry eases his other hand under Ava’s tiny body and lifts her to his chest, awed all over again by her perfection – the curve of her nose, the curl of her miniature eyelashes, the plump jut of her cheeks, which are already flushed a rosy pink. She is asleep and for a moment he’s lost in her, memorizing her face and the five wrinkled fingers that have slipped out of the swaddle. His heart is so full of love his chest aches with it, in the best possible way.

He’s blinking back tears when he finally turns to Jake.

“Have you held a baby this small before?” he says, making no move to pass over his girl right away.

Jake is swaying a little, pushing from one foot to the other with nervous restlessness, and Terry can see the muscles tensing across his shoulders. But his eyes are fixed on Ava, and there’s a softness there and in the small smile playing at his mouth, and the look on his face isn’t fear, it’s wonder. 

Jake shakes his head and then breaks his gaze and glances at Terry. “Are you sure you want me to-”

“Yeah,” Terry says, and adjusts his daughter, cradling her head as he holds her out toward Jake. “Bend your arm, a little more- yes, just like that.”

And then he’s setting Ava’s head in the crook of Jake’s elbow, and he guides her body into Jake’s arms; she’s so small, not much more than a bundle of pink blanket against Jake’s gray hoodie. Terry adjusts Jake’s position, moves his arms until he’s sure Jake’s got a good hold. He lays a palm over the crown of his baby’s head and strokes his thumb over the smallest frown that’s formed on her brow, and he takes a step back and leaves Ava alone in her godfather’s arms.

Jake’s eyes are bright as he gazes down at her. Terry can’t imagine what thoughts are flashing through Jake’s weird and exceptional mind (he isn’t sure he wants to know), but the love that Jake already has for this child is obvious – he’s practically got hearts in his eyes – and not surprising.

Terry chose Jake as godfather in large part because he asked. The two most obvious godparent choices – Sharon’s best girl friends from college – had gone to Cagney and Lacey. Terry has plenty of non-work friends, but none of them expressed any interest in being a godparent before, nor have they been especially active in the twins’ lives since. The fact that Jake had campaigned for the job had earned him points with both Terry and Sharon. In the end, when Terry had asked Sharon about it, she’d shrugged and said sure, and then, “Isn’t he the one who gives you acid reflux?”

Initially, Terry had thought it might be a joke, or possibly a prize – something for Jake to lord over Amy or Charles (or basically the whole squad). But Jake quickly had made it clear he was serious, and then Terry had thought: Jake is brave and smart and confident, and he has such a good heart. And Jake laughs. He laughs more than anyone Terry knows. And didn’t Terry want that for his daughter? To be as fiery and fierce as her sisters and her mother, and as full of laughter as her godfather?

Even after he’d said yes, Terry mulled it over some more, and later he realized that Jake loves the same way he does his job: with reckless abandon, with all of his strength and his passion, with his arms and his heart wide open. He screws up sometimes, but he doesn’t hold back. He will give his godchild everything that’s in his power to offer.

Eventually, Terry’s doubts disappeared entirely.

Terry sits beside his wife on her bed and carefully drapes an arm around her shoulders, and she settles into his side, and it doesn’t matter one bit that they’re in a hospital, that almost everything went so horribly wrong today, because the important things went right and Ava is here and she is healthy. And Jake is responsible for a lot of that. Their baby is so lucky to have him.

Jake shifts his arms, and it’s barely a twitch, but Ava’s eyes open. Terry knows she can’t really see anything just yet but he’d swear they are making eye contact, that they are locked on to one another just now. Jake grins at her and Terry can feel his unbound joy like a presence in the room, like something electric.

“Hi,” Jake says, voice so soft and gentle it’s almost unrecognizable. “I’m Jake. I’m your godfather. We’re going to have so much fun together. And if your parents die, I’m going to take reasonably good care of you.”

“Terry?” Sharon says. She reaches for him and her grip on his forearm is painful.

“Uh, Jake-” Terry says, rising from the bed.

“Look, ‘reasonable’ is the best I can guarantee, and I’m not going to make promises I can’t keep. That would be a terrible way to start godfathering,” Jake says to them both. He looks back at the baby, blinks at her and beams when she blinks back. “Isn’t that right, godbaby?”

Terry means to respond to that – and he knows Sharon is a half-second from asking Terry how the hell Jake got the idea that he would ever be Ava’s guardian – but then the baby hiccups and every sour emotion in the room dissipates like it was never there, and everyone is smiling and crying and overcome again with how right and perfect the world is.

“That was the cutest fucking sound I’ve ever heard,” Jake says.

Terry kisses his baby’s forehead and then he kisses Jake’s forehead because he just can’t help himself, and he says, “Amen, my god-wife.”

End Notes:

Title is from Bikini Babe Workout (Bash Brothers).

Weirdly, this was the first story I wrote for this project. But it seemed appropriate to end the countdown with Jake holding his baby goddaughter for the first time. Here’s to season 7!!

(I’m going to be super obnoxious now and thank a bunch of people for their help or support or flailing or whatever with this countdown project.)

First thank you: Oh my god, @fezzle. My beta and my dear friend. I WOULD NOT have attempted this dumb project without her. She beta’d 31 STORIES (That’s more than 30K words! In a month!) and she saved my ass more than once. She also helped me brainstorm ideas and she talked me off the ledge a few times. I cannot capture how completely amazing she is and how much I love her. Everyone should be so lucky to have a Fezzle in their lives (especially if they’re going to attempt something ridiculous like this series, but also just, in general).

Second thank you: Everyone who gave me a fic prompt! Some of the best ideas came from you guys. I’m going to name folks here and hope I don’t forget anyone or get a name wrong: @fezzle, @madeofitzits, @andrewsambags, @exploding-snapple, @theoneintheblue, @vic-kovac, @weshallmeetagain, @ofbuttsandbombs, @amyscascadingtabs, and @feeisamarshmallow. (That’s in the order stories were posted btw.) If you sent me a prompt and I didn’t write it, please tell me! I may have missed you somehow. I’m also super open to prompts at any time, so don’t hesitate to hit me up after this month.

Third thank you: EVERYONE who left kudos or comments or likes, or who reblogged on tumblr or reached out to me personally in some way. I LOVE YOU ALL. Writing fic can sometimes feel weirdly lonely and isolating and it is always so great to get any kind of feedback. (Let’s be honest, feedback is like a fucking drug and it is the best.)

(Yes, I’m sorry, these End Notes may be longer than the actual fic.)

Fourth thank you: I really especially appreciated the folks who engaged in some great fandom discussion with me relating to these stories – in particular, @amyscascadingtabs and @feeisamarshmallow and @exploding-snapple (timeline!) and MediumSizedEvil. That was fun, guys.

Fifth thank you: Anyone who read all of these stories, even if you never feedbacked. Fedback? Anyway, you’re out there and I appreciate you too!

Sixth thank you: Fezzle again, just because. ❤️

[hellcaster901]

Leather Dreams Ch 4

Chapter Four- Entertainment

Summary: Bonnie and her group are new to Alexandria. Rick and his people letting them in during a war they didn’t know about, being thrown in as extra people to fight. But as she sees the man they despise, she can’t help herself feel drawn to him, and he can’t either.

Warnings: Swearing, Slight Smut (we’re getting there!!)

Author’s Note: Thank you to you all who have been reblogging, liking, and even following me from reading this story. It means so much to me. Which is mostly the reason why I’m posting so many chapters. I wanna give you guys as much as I can! Thank you again for the positive feedback, it’s just making me wanting to keep writing. And again, please let me know if you want to be tagged for upcoming chapters. I’m going to try to do other stories, maybe even some one shots. Please let me know what you guys are wanting from me here! Thank you again.

Masterlist

~~~~

I grew nervous as we got closer to my house, Negan following close behind. I could tell he was enjoying the view, I caught him a couple times staring down at my ass. 

I saw Rob and Tony sitting there at the table, looking over at us. “Fuck” I mumbled, seeing Tony. The second his eyes landed on Negan, I could see how pissed he instantly became.

“What the fuck is this?” Tony yelled, standing up and pointing at Negan.

“Tony, knock it the fuck off.” I yelled back, stepping between him and Negan. Tony looked between me and Negan, a dry laugh leaving his lips.

“You’re protecting him?” Tony pointed. Negan was quiet during the whole thing, probably enjoying the entertainment he was getting. 

“Why would I have to protect him? You’re not going to do shit.” I snapped back, pushing him back. He was surprised as he took a few steps back. “What I did, what I’m doing,” I yelled, motioning between me and Negan, “Is for you. I’m saving your ass so you don’t end up with a bat indent in your head and six feet deep. So either you suck it up, and stop acting like my boyfriend,” I pointed at him, taking a step towards him. “Or I’ll let Negan do whatever he fucking wants to you.” Both Rob and Tony were surprised at my outburst, wide eyes staring at me and Negan. “Now leave.” I gritted. WIthout a word, Tony walked around me, walking past Negan and leaving. Rob hot on his tail.

“Damn Bonnie.” Negan laughed, walking up behind me. “Didn’t know you had that type of fire in ya.” I could feel him settle behind me, his breath on my ear as he leaned down. “Makes my dick tingly.” He whispered. I whipped around, Negan only a couple inches away from. He stood there, staring down at me, his tongue coming out and licking his bottom lip. He reached up, his hand tucking a piece of hair behind my ear. “Has anyone ever told you, that you are fucking sexy.” He chuckled, tilting my head up to look at him. I shook my head, staring at him.

“What do you want from me?” I asked him, hypnotized by the way he was looking at me. He almost looked at me like I was the only girl. I pushed the thought to the back of my head as I thought about it again. He looked at me like I was the only girl in this community that’ll be alone with him.

“What do you think I want?” Negan whispered, taking a step forward. I took a step back, trying to keep the distance. But he kept coming, kept taking steps after steps, making me move backwards until the edge of the table dug into my lower back. I gasped a little bit, feeling it dig into my spine. He moves fucking fast. 

“I don’t know Negan.” I whispered. He groaned a little bit, his hand coming down to rest on my neck, he held on, squeezing slightly. I moaned quietly, hoping to god he didn’t hear me, but sadly, God wanted me to suffer, and Negan heard me. 

“You like that?” He whispered, staring down at my lips. I stood there quietly, refusing to answer. “I said, do you fucking like that?” He repeated himself, squeezing my throat a little tighter. I moaned again, nodding, a feeling of guilt riding up my body as I actually did enjoy his touch on me. “You dirty girl.” An evil grin spread across his face as he closed the distance between us, trapping me between his lean body, and the table. “You’re actually a freak, aren’t you?” He smirked, rubbing my neck, his body heat emerging into mine.

“Why don’t you find out.” I whispered to him. I was surprised at my own words, almost not realizing that I said that. My own mind and body betraying me. God fucking damn it. 

“I was fucking hoping you’d say that.” Before I could protest against him, Negan leaned down, placing a fat kiss on my lips. I gasped against his lips, my eyes wide. I heard a soft clank, before feeling his arm wrap around my waist, his other hand going to the back of my head, holding me to him. I finally let myself enjoy the kiss, closing my eyes and moving my lips with his. HIs lips were smooth and thin against my plump ones. 

I pulled back from his quickly, looking up at the man with wide eyes. We stared at one another, heavy breaths leaving our lips.

I couldn’t help myself.

 I reached for his leather jacket, tugging on the front, pulling him closer, our lips colliding. I shouldn’t be doing this. This man was the enemy. This man killed Rick’s people, he almost killed Tony. I just kissed Rick not even an hour ago. An involuntary gasp left my lips as Negan lifted me up, placing me on the table. He moved himself between my thighs, a large hand coming down and grabbing onto it, squeezing. I moaned into his mouth, liking how big his hands really were. 

I was amazed at how well of a kisser Negan really was. His mouth moved against mine in a sweet, slow kiss. His tongue tracing my bottom lip before pushing into mine, exploring every inch he could. He wasn’t wanting to rush it, it felt like he was taking his time. But I could feel the passion behind it.

I moved my arms, throwing them over his shoulders and pulling him closer. He groaned against my lips as I raked my nails through his hair, digging into his skin. I clenched around nothing as I heard the sound come from his lips. 

I moved back to his chest, tugging at the zipper of his jacket, tugging it down until it opened, pushing it off his shoulders. It slid down his arms, falling to the floor. I pulled back, breathing heavily as I looked up at him, a white tee shirt covering his torso. His chest rose and fell as he watched me too. I noticed his plump lips, his hair in different directions, his eyes wide with lust. My hands went to my button up, slowly unbuttoning it, revealing the black bra I had on. 

“Holy fucking shit.” Negan breathed, watching me slip the shirt off. His hand moved from my thigh, up my stomach and onto my breast, his fingers slipping into the cup before moving to the strap. “Let me see those tits.” He groaned, tugging the strap down my shoulder, my breath hitched as he pulled the cup down roughly, my breast being exposed to his eyes. “Damn baby, where have you been my entire fucking life.” He growled, making a b-line to my nipple before taking it into his mouth. I gasped, arching into his mouth. We have to stop, I have to stop giving myself to him. I have to stop. He bit down on my nipple, a small scream leaving my lips at the pressure.

“Negan” I moaned, wrapping a leg around his waist and pulling him closer. We both moaned, feeling his bulge rub into my center.

“Fuck.” Negan moved, rutting into me a little bit, getting some release. Bonnie, stop, you have to stop. This isn’t right. 

I pulled him closer, pulling his head up and attaching my lips to his. I rolled my hips against him, his thick bulge rubbing harder into me,

“Keep this up princess, and you’re going to get my cock in that pussy.” Negan moaned against my lips. He kissed down my chin, his lips attacking my neck, biting and sucking as he rutted against me. “Or is your boyfriend going to have another fucking fit about it?”

“He’s not my boyfriend.” I whispered in his ear, nibbling on it. “And if you’re going to put actions to those words, you better fucking hurry.”

“You fucking dirty slut.” Negan groaned into my neck. His hands went to his belt, pulling it open. My mouth watered as I watch him reach into his pants, my pussy basically dripping, waiting to see what he was packing. 

Before I could see what he had going on, a few knocks on the door ripped us out of the moment we were having.

“What the actual fuck?” Negan yelled, pulling back from me. 

I sat there, wide eyed, my top hanging on my arms, my bra tugged down, pushing my breasts up.  I watched him as he cursed under his breath, fixing himself. I was disappointed, not being to see what he had under those pants, or even feel it. 

He looked at me, smirking as he grabbed his leather jacket off the floor.. He grabbed the back of my neck, pulling me to him, his lips landing on mine. He bit onto my bottom lip, tugging before letting it slap back. “We’re not done here.” He smiled, a smug look on his face. “I’m not done with you.” He grabbed my hand, guiding it to his very pronounced bulge. “You feel what you fucking did to me.” I grabbed at him, rubbing him over his pants. I tugged on his shirt, ignoring the knocking still coming from the door.

“That enough entertainment for you, sir?” I whispered into his ear. I noticed the shiver at my words. He pulled back, grinning at me. 

“You’re going to be begging me to wreck that pussy the next time I see you.” I pushed him back, his smile still wide as I fixed my bra. I pushed myself off the table, grabbing my shirt.

“I’d like to see you try.” I whispered to him, pulling the shirt on before buttoning it. You’re fucking flirting with him, Bonnie. What the hell are you even doing? I grabbed his bat, handing it to him with a wink. I got to the door, opening it and seeing one of Negan’s men standing there. The man looks at me, wide eyes. I’m sure I looked like a mess, my hair knotted, my shirt wrinkled and uneven on my body.

“And what is so goddamn important that you had to interrupt me in the middle of me getting my dick wet?” I blushed at his words, moving to the side for Negan to walk past. He landed a hand on my ass, grabbing tightly before passing. I glared at him as he looked over his shoulder, giving me a wink. 

“I just came to tell you we’re done collecting.” The man said, staring at me for a moment before looking at Negan. 

“And that was so important that you had to come and get me?” Negan asked again, leaning against the railing and staring at his man. The man stuttered a moment, trying to think of something to say.

“I thought you’d want to know, to leave.” He finally said. Negan shook his head slightly, clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth. 

“Get back to the damn truck, I’ll deal with you once we get back.” Negan waved, turning back to me. The man scurried off, running towards the gate. I watched him, noticing Rick and Michonne standing there. A wave of guilt filled my body as I saw Rick. I wonder what he thought happened in here, I wonder if he thought Negan took advantage of me, or if anything at all happened. I looked up at Negan, his eyes boring into mine. “You gonna give Ol’ Negan a kiss goodbye?” I crossed my arms, raising an eyebrow at him. “Come on, you weren’t  fucking complaining before.” He winked. I rolled my eyes, looking over at Rick and Michonne.

“They’re watching.” I whispered, looking over at them. Negan glanced, eyeing the two of them. He only chuckled looking back at me. 

“Till next time.” He smiled, turning on his heel and leaving my porch.

***

“There’s not a lot Bonnie. “ Claire said, handing Emma back to me. “There’s enough diapers for the week, but besides that nothing. No crib or anything.” I sighed, looking down at Emma. She only smiled at me, holding her hands out to me. I grabbed one little hand, bouncing her slightly on my hip. 

“I appreciate you looking.” I told her. I grabbed a blanket from the couch, laying it on the floor and then folding it. I held Emma up, supporting her head and laying her on the blanket. She wiggled in my arms, smiling up at me as she laid there. “Look at you.” I chuckled, see her feet go again. “You’re going to be walking before I know it.”

“So…”Jenny started, leaning against the table. “What happened between you and Negan in here?” She giggled, almost like we were school girls. I could see out of the corner of my eye Claire was interested in this conversation too. I rolled my eyes, standing back up and sitting on the couch. The two of them came running over, sitting on the chairs in the living room with me. 

“Not a lot honestly.” I lied, keeping my eyes on the baby. 

“Liar.” Jenny smiled. My eyes shot up to hers, surprised at how quick she called me out. “I know for a fact if a handsome man like that was with me, I’d be all over him.” I rolled my eyes. 

“Yes, but his handsome man has done some shit. Shit to Rick’s people that can’t be forgiven.” I need to remember that, if Rick ever finds out what happened, I don’t know. I don’t even know what’s going on between us. That kiss was…. I don’t know.

“Not to us.” Claire told me.

“But he was close.” I reminded her. “He almost killed Tony. And if I didn’t tell him I’d ‘entertain’ him, Tony would be dead.” The two of them thought about it for a moment, realizing that I was right. 

“Tony cares about you.” Jenny smiled weakly, “Love makes us do crazy things.” I rolled my eyes, knowing Jenny had some feelings towards him. 

“But I don’t love him.” I told her. “The only feelings I have for him is a friend. And he’s forcing his feelings for me. He told Negan he was my boyfriend.”

“What? Really?” Claire asked, “He told Negan that?” I nodded.

“That first day we were here, and Negan came. He saw me upstairs after my shower, and he didn’t see anything, but I’m not sure exactly how long he was standing there until he said something.”

“What a creep.” Jenny scoffed.

“No that’s the thing.” I whispered, looking behind me to make sure Tony or Rob wasn’t listening, I leaned forward, “I don't care.” I confessed to them. Both their eyes widen, a sly smile spreading on their faces.

“You dirty girl.” Jenny joked, slapping my arm. I rolled my eyes at her, leaning back in the car. I looked down at Gwen, her arms waving and her legs going. SHe seemed to be enjoying herself. “So what actually happened when you guys came back here?” I sighed, leaning forward again. I told them about Tony and Rob, how I yelled at Tony, and how I told him that I was here because of him. I told them about what me and Negan did, how far I was willing to go, how I was willing to give myself to Negan, until one of his men interrupted us. “Holy shit.” Jenny laughed, slapping my other arm. I winched, leaning away from her. 

“I know. I know.” I smiled, “But you guys can’t tell anyone. I don’t know how Rick would react.” I explained. “I don’t know if he’d use it to his advantage, or kick me out.” The two of them looked at one another, agreeing they’d keep it a secret. “I’m not planning on sleeping with Negan. I can’t do that to Rick.” I told them. THey both looked a little confused. “I kissed Rick when we were on our run today.” 

“You slut.” Claire yelled, Emma jumped, her face scrunching up, tears falling. “Oh shit, I’m sorry.” Claire whispered. I huffed, standing up and grabbing Emma. I rocked her, shushing her as her sobs calmed down, turning into small sniffles. 

“It just happened. He kissed me.” I told them. I wiped at the tears left on Emma’s face. I could feel Claire and Jenny stare at me. “If he didn’t pull over and kiss me, we wouldn’t have found Emma.” I told them, holding the small child in my arms. Her eyes started getting heavy, her face getting sleepy. “It was like… fate or something.” I explained. “We found Emma, and her mother. They were in a tent and walkers were surrounding them. When we finally cleared the walkers, I opened the tent and Emma was there.” I was still shocked at what happened, only happening a few hours ago. “Her mom’s name was Emma, they didn’t have a name for her, so when she gave me the baby, I decided Emma was perfect.” Emma slept in my arms, her sweet chubby face peaceful. I pushed back a few strands of hair, already feeling myself get attached to this baby. “The mother was bit, and asked me to look out for her. When I had her in my arms…” I couldn’t continue, remembering how quick the mom was. Grabbing her gun, and shooting herself without hesitation. I knew Jenny and Claire knew what I meant. “She’s my responsibility now.” I told them, looking up at them. I chuckled a little bit. “If you would have told me I was going to be a mother at 27, I would’ve laughed at you.” 

“I’m sorry that you had to see that.” Jenny gave me a sweet smile, sympathizing with me. 

“That’s just the world we’re living in now.” 

[keichanz]

This Is Halloween

IT IS DONE. FINISHED. FINITO. COMPLETE. AND I AM SO

FUCKING

HAPPY YOU HAVE NOOOO IDEA.

moving on, i had a lot of fun writing this, and i had no idea so many people would enjoy the idea of writing little blurbs of the modern life of Inukag and their kiddos. also i’m surprised some people ship Izayoi and Raiden as hard as i do anD I’M SO INCREDIBLY HAPPY ABOUT THAT THEY ARE MY BABIES AND I LOVE THEM I WANT THEM TO BE HAPPY  

if some of you recognize the first half of this chapter and feel like you’ve read it before, it’s because you probably have. i posted the first half last year on Halloween and titled it “Haunted House” despite having not finished the series. I was originally going to just keep it as is, but then decided it wouldn’t be fair and anyway i wanted a proper ended for Izayoi and Rai, so i added onto it. i’m happy with how it turned out, despite it being a tad rushed because i just wanted this damn thing finished already lol.

anyway, thank you all for joining me on this adventure and for leaving all of your comments and reviews! i promise you i read all of your tags and reblogs and it truly does my heart good to know so many people enjoyed reading this story as much as i enjoyed writing it. ^_^

that’s enough rambling; ladies and gentlemen, without further ado, i present to you the last chapter of my series...

Spooktober Day 31: This Is Halloween 

Kagome had no idea what time it was when she turned over in bed with a grunt, her forehead scrunching into an irritated frown as she shifted into a more comfortable position then settled with a quiet sigh. Beside her Inuyasha sighed in his sleep and rolled up against her, his arm a pleasant warmth as it draped over her waist and he tucked his nose against the nape of her neck before going still once more.

She had no idea what had woken her up in the first place; snugly warm under the covers and cuddled against her husband quite nicely, Kagome should have been able to go back to sleep no problem but for some reason her mind was alert, refusing to give into the slumber creeping in on the edges, taunting her with sweet oblivion. The darkness of the room, Inuyasha’s steady breathing and the movement of his chest against her back should have been enough to lull her back to sleep, but for some reason her body would not give into her mind’s silent demands. It was as if her mind was subconsciously aware of something that her body was not and as such it would not be coaxed into that state of blessed ignorance.

Her frown deepened and she huffed quietly in annoyance; responding to her distress, even in his sleep, Inuyasha’s chest erupted with a soothing rumble and he maneuvered his arm beneath the blanket to reclaim its spot over her side and then press his hand against her bare belly. The familiar gesture sent warmth skittering across her skin and despite herself a fleeing, sleepy smile flickered at Kagome’s lips. It was one of his favorite things to do now that she was pregnant again and it didn’t surprise her at all that even in sleep he did it.

She went absolutely still, simply absorbing the feel of him against her, concentrating on his warmth, the sound of his even breathing, the pleasant roughness of his leg and chest hair against the smoothness of her skin, hoping to distract herself with the pleasing physical sensations enough to nod off again.

But no such luck; though she could feel the sleepiness pulling at the edges of her mind, it stubbornly refused to give in and Kagome’s frown returned, this time with a frustrated pout. Abruptly deciding she might as well see what time it was to gauge how much sleep she’d gotten thus far - and how much more she could sneak in - Kagome wrinkled her nose and cracked her eyes open just enough to peer at the blurry numbers on her alarm clock–

And screamed.

Inuyasha jolted awake with a startled gasp, shooting up in bed and blinking rapidly in order to clear his hazy vision as his mind struggled to come back online after very suddenly getting thrust into awareness.

“Huh–what–Kagome? What’s—?” Rubbing his eyes and shaking his head, Inuyasha turned his attention to his wife and found her sitting up in bed, clutching the blanket to her bare chest and staring wide-eyed at–

“Jesus! Fucking hell—!” Flailing in surprise, Inuyasha jerked back against the headboard in an instinctive reaction and slapped a hand against his chest over his rapidly beating heart.

“What the fuck–goddammit, Tai!”

Standing beside their bed, wearing his favorite Spiderman pajamas and the very detailed Halloween mask of the bloody skull of a skeleton that he’d begged his mother to buy for him at the store, their five year old said nothing as he peered at him through the meth openings of the eyes, looking every bit the spooky specter that he wanted to be for his favorite holiday.

Inuyasha and Kagome stared back, their eyes wide, wondering what the hell their son was doing standing at their bedside at five in the goddamn morning.

Tai was silent for another minute, before his slightly muffled voice reached their ears.

“…It’s Halloween.”

Then, as quietly as he’d apparently snuck into their room, the child slunk back out, leaving his parents in a state of “what the fuck just happened.”

A moment passed. Then their teenage daughter’s screech of, “Aaaahh! Ohmigod, Tai, you little freak! What are you doing?!” drifted down the hall and into their room. Tai’s gleeful cackling followed shortly thereafter and neither parent was surprised to hear Izayoi scramble out of bed and chase her laughing little brother though the house, tossing various threats of dismemberment and other creative jibes older sisters were known to torment their siblings with.

Finally over the initial shock, Kagome heaved a long sigh and slumped against the headboard while Inuyasha groaned and then slunk back under the covers with an annoyed grumble.

“Damn,” Kagome murmured and Inuyasha grunted. “Who the hell needs haunted houses and you wake up to that at five in the morning…”

A snort came from beneath the covers. “We can charge,” her husband opined, his voice gruff. “Pay for Izzy’s college tuition in a single night.”

Kagome snorted a laugh and slithered down to join her hanyou hubby under the covers. He slipped his arms around her waist and buried his face in her chest with a growling sigh and then they felt silent, wrapped in each other’s arms and listening to their children taunt and chase each other around the house in the wee hours of the morning.

“Inuyasha?” Kagome murmured a few moments later, drowsy, but unable to fall asleep as she distractedly rubbed her husband’s ears.

“Mm,” Inuyasha grunted, reveling in his wife’s blissful ministrations and struggling to stay awake to hear what she had to say.

“…You did buy all those Halloween decorations…” Her voice held an innocent lilt to it that had Inuyasha instantly grinning and his chest vibrating with a deep, husky chuckle.

“One condition,” he rumbled, his grin turning sly.

Kagome bit her lip to stifle her snickers. “And?”

“Tai and that damn mask are gonna be put to good use for waking us up at the ass crack of dawn and so’s Iz for saying she’s gonna rip off his arm and beat him with it.”

“Deal.”

“If you don’t stop fidgeting already, I’m gonna poke your eye and I won’t be sorry about it.”

“It feels weird.”

“I swear to god you’re the only girl I know of that complains about putting on makeup.”

“Bite me.”

“Hey, you’re the one who asked me for help, remember? So quit your whining and let me do this so you can impress your boyfriend. And stop glaring at me, it’s pinching your eyes and it’s gonna make me mess up and we’ll have to start all over again.”

“I hate you right now.”

“Love you too, cuz. Now stay still, will you? I’m almost done.”

Grumbling but because she’d rather not sit there for another half an hour while her cousin painted up her face to match her costume, Izayoi obliged and forced herself to remain still as Rin carefully added the finishing touches to her left eye. With her silver done and already donned in her costume, the only thing she had left to do was put on the hat after Rin was through and she was pretty anxious to see the complete look.

The party was set to begin in about twenty minutes or so and even from upstairs Izayoi could hear her mother order around her dad as they got everything ready. Her Aunt Sango and Uncle Miroku had arrived earlier to help as well and no doubt they were regretting that offer as Kagome flitted about agonizing over every little detail, stressing that it had to be perfect. She was pretty sure her mom had even put Tai to work, but last she knew it was something simple like preparing a cheese and cracker tray or picking up some of his toys to put away.

All in all Izayoi was glad she was pardoned from preparation duty so she could get ready. The instant they’d gotten home from school, she and Rin had bolted up the stairs to her room so they could change and prepare themselves, excited to wow their respective dates. They’d worked on Rin’s makeup first, Googling makeup tutorials and having fun experimenting with different shades and such. They settled on a simple design and coupled with the red wig and costume, Rin’s Sally looked positively stunning. Izayoi only hoped she’d look half as good as her best friend and cousin.

Then it was her turn, and by the time Izayoi was finishing styling her hair and changing into her costume, Rin had sat her down on the bed and set to work.

Now nearly thirty minutes later, Izayoi was starting to get antsy and a tad impatient. It really did feel weird to have makeup on. She’d never been one to care about her outward appearance and obsess over things other girls her age did. But still, she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t excited to see the result of actually putting thought into her appearance this time.

“Aaaand…done,” Rin finally announced and stepped back with a satisfied nod. Her smile was very proud and perhaps even a bit arrogant as she studied her handiwork. “Not half bad, if I do say so myself.”

With a muffled squeal of excitement Izayoi wasted no time in shooting up and darting over to the full-length mirror on her door. She took one look at her face and gasped, golden eyes going wide in absolute wonder.

“Oh my god, Rin,” she breathed as the aforementioned girl came strutting over to stand by her side, grinning widely as she slung an arm around her cousin’s shoulders. “This is…this is amazing. You’re amazing. I love it!”

“You’re welcome,” Rin said lightly and was promptly tackled by the enthusiastic half-demon in a hug a gratitude.

“Thank you!” Izayoi gushed and Rin’s half-hearted “Hey, watch the makeup!” didn’t even faze as she pulled back to admire herself once more in the mirror. “Rin, you are a goddess.”

“I know,” her cousin quipped but with a smile as she crossed the room the grab the last item to complete her look. “And now, the finishing touch.”

Beaming, Izayoi met her half-way and allowed her human cousin and best friend to carefully set the brown velvet hat on top of her head. Her ears flicked from the minor constriction against them, but it was tolerable and if it got to be too annoying she could just take it off for a while, so she paid it not mind.

“Perfecto,” Rin said just as the door to her room opened.

“How are you doing, girls? Almost done?” Kagome asked as she poked her head inside. Her eyes landed on her daughter and she gasped in utter delight, smiling broadly as she opened the door the rest of the way and stepped inside. Donned in a simple black long-sleeved shirt and black jeans, Kagome’s costume consisted of black cat ears and a tail with simple cat makeup on her face.

“Oh, Izzy, you look amazing,” she praised and the young half-demon beamed proudly. “And Rin, your Sally is spot on! I gotta say, your skills are stellar. The makeup looks like it was professionally done.”

Rin glowed at the praise and blushed, but her smile was very pleased. “Thanks, Auntie. It was easy, really. Just followed some YouTube tutorials. No biggie.” She shrugged, but it was obvious she really appreciated the compliment.

“Still,” Kagome said as she fished her phone from the pocket of her jeans, “well done. Alright, I have a picture of you two so I can show off to everybody at work. Say Happy Halloween, girls!”

With arms tossed over the others’ shoulders, the young cousins beamed and chorused, “Happy Halloween!”

Kagome snapped the picture, grinned in satisfaction, then beckoned them both over to her so show it to them and then quickly snap a picture of all three of them.

“Okay, the party’s about to start,” Kagome said after sending the photo to both her daughter and her husband. “Let’s get downstairs and show you two off!”

Giggling excitedly, the girls heeded the older woman’s words and scurried out of the bedroom, Kagome at their heels.

There were already a few guests milling about when they got downstairs, mainly people from Inuyasha and Kagome’s work, however a few family members had arrived as well. Rin happily waved to her parents from across the room and skipped over to greet them and to show off her own costume. Kagura had chosen a risqué witch costume while Sesshomaru merely had on a white t-shirt that said “This is my costume.”

Kagura gushed over the girls and praised her daughter’s makeup skills while Sesshomaru eyed his daughter’s costume for a bit before grunting in approval, satisfied that nothing inappropriate was showing. He nodded Izayoi’s way, approving her costume as well, and Izayoi knew it was just his way of showing his admiration so she merely beamed at him.

More people started arriving at the door and someone took it upon themselves to turn on some appropriately spooky music, but kept it at low volume in deference to the demons’ sensitive hearing. Pretty soon the dull roar of laughter and chatter filled the Taisho household as adults and children alike mingled and had a good time. Tai was running around with Sango’s and Miroku’s kids, wearing that bloody mask paired with the clothes he’d worn to school that morning. Whatever, as long as he was happy, is what Inuyasha had told his wife as she shook her head in exasperation.

Shippou and his parents were there, dressed as The Incredibles, and Kikyou along with her husband Suikotsu had arrived as Gambit and Rogue. Kouga and Ayame had opted for the Marvel route as well and showed up as Wolverine and Jean Grey. Daisuke was skulking about somewhere but he wasn’t dressed up, having been forced to accompany his parents.

Izayoi also spotted an Iron Man, the Joker, Penny Wise, various witches and princesses, characters from various horror movies, and even a toilet (???) and Kohaku and finally made an appearance making an excellent Jack from The Nightmare Before Christmas. He and Rin looked positively stunning together and many pictures had already been taken of them, however the one person Izayoi had been expecting to arrive with him, she still had seen neither hide nor hair of her crush.

Kohaku had waved off her inquiry about him, saying he just got held up and was probably on his way here right now, but Izayoi still couldn’t help but worry as anxiety gnawed at her tummy. Had he changed his mind? Oh god, what if he came to his senses and realized he could do much better than a silly little half-demon with a crush and an overprotective dad—

“Would you chill out?” Rin said, appearing at her side out of nowhere and thrusting a caramel apple in her cousin’s hand. “He’ll come, I’m sure of it. Kohaku said he just got held up.”

Worrying her bottom lip, Izayoi merely nodded and stared down at the dark screen of her phone. She’d refrained some blowing up his phone asking where he was because she didn’t want to be that girl, but she’d be lying if she said the thought wasn’t tempting. It was almost 6 pm and he still wasn’t there…what if something happened to him? Was he okay? Was he hurt? Oh god she needed to go and find him—

A pair of hands suddenly covered her eyes just as a familiar voice murmured behind her, “Guess who.”

Izayoi’s face split into the biggest smile Rin had ever seen and even through her makeup she could detect the pleased blush that colored the half-demon’s cheeks.

“Rai,” she whispered and the hands dropped, allowing her to spin around and lock eyes with her crush for the first time all night.

“I’m glad you made it,” she said and ignored Rin’s loud snort beside her. “I admit, I was…a little worried.” Rin snorted again and Izayoi not so subtly elbowed her cousin in the ribs.

Blue-green eyes glinted down at her but before Raiden could say anything Kohaku slung an arm around his neck with a jovial laugh and along with their friends started harassing him as boys often did. Raiden gave as good as he got, laughing with them and poking fun of their costumes while batting away the hands that poked at his own.

Izayoi waited patiently, amused, as Raiden fooled around with his friend and watched as he finally sent them off with high-fives and promises to track them down later. Rin dragged Kohaku off to do god knows what, sending her cousin a wink, and Izayoi blushed, but smiled in gratitude.

“So,” Raiden said at length and turned to face her fully, unabashedly looking her up and down to take in her costume. His face lit up in approval and he grinned, boldly reaching up to grab the trailing back of her hat and give it a gentle tug.

“You look…amazing, buttercup,” he complimented sincerely, enjoying the soft flush that painted her cheeks. “Did Rin do your makeup?” At her nod, he whistled low. “Nice. See? I told you we’d be the coolest couple here.”

He smirked and struck a pose, putting his hands on his hips and tossing his head as he puffed out his chest.

Izayoi laughed at how ridiculous he looked, her previous shyness evaporating under his easygoing air. What was it about him that made her feel so comfortable?

“You don’t look so bad yourself,” she praised, taking in his matching costume. It was simple, and yet complimented her as well as suited him perfectly. He made some modifications, such as ripping the knees of the trousers and shortening the sleeves of the shirt, but she had to admit, he looked positively dashing. She loved the shoulder piece and hat, and those combat boots? Oh, be still, my heart!

“Why thank you, m’lady,” he rumbled, smirking as he held out his arm. “Now let’s get this show on the road. Shall we, fair maiden?”

Grinning broadly, pleased as punch, Izayoi tucked her arm into his and replied smoothly, “We shall, my good man.”

It was just after 10 pm and the party was finally starting to wind down. It was mainly family and close friends that were sticking around, chatting pleasantly and even offering to help clean up, but Kagome dismissed their kindness with a smile and said she’d just do it tomorrow. Tai, tuckered out from all the fun, the copious amount of cookies and other food he’d consumed, and the various games he’d played, lie fast asleep in his father’s arms who sat in the recliner, feeling a mite winded himself.

The teenagers had claimed the kitchen as their domain, joking around and laughing together, but at a much calmer level now that the hype of the party had died. They munched absently on leftover cookies and other treats, plastic cups full of soda or cider littering the counter tops.

Leaning against the counter with Raiden at her side, Izayoi couldn’t remember having so much fun before. She and Raiden had flirted and teased each other all night long, even holding hands once and she’d managed to sneak in a kiss to his cheek once or twice when her parents weren’t looking. She was on cloud-nine, pumped full of sugar, cider, and so much junk food she should be sick, but yet she unable to stop smiling.

Best Halloween ever, Izayoi thought with a dreamy sigh and then suddenly her hand was encased in warmth and she blinked. Looking down, her eyes widened to find that Raiden had taken her hand in his and her face erupted in color when he laced their fingers together.

He squeezed, and she looked up, a question on her tongue, but he put a finger to his lips and tugged as he jerked her his head, a wordless inquiry to follow him as he gently led her toward the sliding glass doors. Izayoi was utterly helpless and allowed him to drag her away, biting her lip to contain her giggles as they sneaked out into the deck and into the cool night.

From his location in the armchair, Inuyasha’s brows snapped low over his eyes as he watched that boy lead his daughter outside away from his eyesight and a low growl rumbled in his throat. Oh hell no.

Tightening his hold on Tai, meaning to carefully lay him on the couch and follow after the two teens, Inuyasha moved to stand up, but a small hand on his shoulder gave him pause and he snapped his gaze to his wife who was looking toward the kitchen with a knowing smile.

He growled. “Kagome—”

“Leave them be, Inuyasha,” she murmured and shifted her hand to soothingly rub his ear. “She’ll be fine. I’ve been watching them all night; Raiden is a good boy with a good head on his shoulders, and you know your daughter. She’s smart, and we both know she can take care of herself. We need to trust her, okay?”

Inuyasha’s ears pinned down against his head and he winced, however he did grudgingly sink back into the chair. It was obvious he was fighting to keep himself from following after them, amber eyes zeroed in on the sliding doors he could see from where he sat, and Kagome smiled in understanding.

Perching herself on the arm of the chair, Kagome racked her fingers through his hair and quietly mused aloud, “Do you remember when we were that age, Yash?”

She purposely used the nickname she’d frequently called him while they were in high school and as she predicted, her husband’s gaze darted back to hers in surprise.

“We used to sneak off all the time,” she reminded him and watched the emotions flit across his face as he remembered their teenage years. Slowly his expression softened and a small smile lifted the corners of his mouth as he recalled their youth.

“We were young, and it was exciting,” Kagome continued, voice soft with fond recollection. “We broke the rules, caused mischief, didn’t care about anything but each other, and we had fun doing it. My high school years were some of the best years of my life, and it was because I had you to share them with me. Would you deny your daughter that same happiness, Yash?”

Inuyasha closed his eyes and sagged in defeat, releasing a drawn-out sigh of resignation. His wife, damn her, was right. As much as he didn’t want to admit it, his daughter was a teenager now, and as such she was nearing that stage in her life where she was going to act out and do what she wanted, regardless what he or her mother said. He just hoped to god she wouldn’t be as rebellious as he’d been, but like Kagome said, he had to trust her. He knew his babygirl, knew she would stay out of trouble.

Didn’t stop him from worrying, though. She was his only daughter, his little girl; of course he was going to worry. But it looked like he’d just have to do it from afar now and let her make her own mistakes so she could learn from them, as hard as that was going to be.

“No,” he finally allowed, shaking his head. “No, of course I wouldn’t. I just…” He sighed again and stared beseechingly up at his wife, brow knit into a slight frown of consternation. “This is gonna suck, isn’t it?”

Kagome’s smile was equal parts sympathetic and resigned. “Majorly.”

Inuyasha groaned.

“Well,” his wife piped up and he cracked an eye open. “At least your hair is already silver so you don’t have to worry about going gray prematurely.”

“Not helping, wench.”

Sitting on the wooden platform of the swing set, hidden from prying eyes with the waxing moon praying witness to their secret interlude. It was a chilly but clear night, but neither teen minded the cold, content to sit in the dark with the moon’s silver brilliance shining down on them and enjoy one another’s company.

Raiden had yet to release Izayoi’s hand and she wasn’t complaining at all. He was warm and smelled nice and Izayoi thought that maybe life couldn’t get any better right at that moment. She tried not to think about how mad her parents were going to be when they discovered she’d sneaked outside with a boy, and with Raiden there casting her tiny grins and squeezing her hand every so often, it wasn’t too hard.

“Sorry for stealing you away like this,” Raiden said, breaking the silence with a soft chuckle. “It was sort of a…spur of the moment thing. I hope you won’t get in trouble.”

Even if she did, it would be soo worth it. “It’s okay,” she said, smiling as a soft blush tinted her cheeks. “I don’t mind. And even if I do…” She shrugged and spoke her thoughts out loud, “It’d be worth it.”

Raiden grinned. “Yeah?”

“Oh yeah,” she returned and they shared a quiet laugh.

“I did sort of have a reason for bringing you out here,” he admitted a mite sheepishly, using his free hand to rub the back of his neck as he averted his gaze.

Izayoi tilted her head and regarded him curiously, a patient half-smile curling her lips upward.

“What’s that?” she asked lightly even as her heart pounded in her chest, not daring to hope…

“Uh, er, w-well,” he began, coughing into his hand, and Izayoi realized with slight astonishment that he was flustered. She’d never seen him be anything other than cool, calm, and confident, and she had to admit, she sort of liked it. It was adorable and he was actually blushing!

Fighting back a smile, Izayoi swallowed the giggle that bubbled up and waited for him to regain his bearings, if not a bit impatiently. She didn’t want to jump the gun of course, or jump to conclusions, but if he wanted to be alone to ask her something…

Sucking in a bracing breath, Raiden nodded to himself, hardened his resolved, and faced the pretty half-demon that he’d had a crush on for the better part of a year now. He gave her his best charming smile and enjoyed the becoming blush that stole across her cheeks.

Encouraged, he squeezed her hand and began, “Izayoi, I..uh…” He sighed, groaned, and then decided to just go for it.

“Ah, screw it. Izayoi Taisho, I like you,” he finally admitted and he could clearly hear the way her breath caught in her throat as her eyes widened. “And I, uh, I hope you like me too—”

“I do!” Izayoi blurted before promptly blushing so hard her face rivaled that of a tomato.

And just like that Raiden’s confidence was restored, the tension in his shoulders melting away and it was suddenly easier to breath. He grinned at her and squeezed her hand, shifting around and angling his body so he faced her.

“Yeah?” he said and though she refused to look him in the eye, Izayoi jerked her head in a curt nod and he felt like he could, like, lift a freaking house or something.

“Well then,” he started and reached over to gently tug on one of her braids to draw her attention. There was a pause, and then Izayoi slowly turned her head, pretty sunshine eyes locking with his blue-green ones.

“What do you say we go out this weekend? Just you and me, like a real date. Please say yes,” Raiden beseeched, his smile easy-going and entirely too charming for her little heart to handle.

Like she was going to say no? Heart pounding, face five different shades of red and her belly rioting with millions of butterflies, Izayoi allowed the utter delighted smile to surface on her face as her eyes lit up in absolute pleasure.

“Yes,” she whispered and had to laugh when Raiden made a fist and jerked his arm back with a hissed, “Score!”

Utterly elated, Izayoi resisted the urge to bounce up and down in exhalation as she confessed, “God, you have no idea how long I’ve wanted—”

Fleeing warmth and softness brushing against her lips so fast she thought she imagined it had Izayoi’s thoughts coming to a screeching halt. She gasped, hand flying up to flutter her fingertips across her lips and her eyes were very wide as Raiden pulled back to reveal a face that was nearly as red as hers.

“Sorry,” he muttered, wincing a little as he dropped his gaze. “I just…you just looked really cute, and I’ve kinda wanted to do that for a while, and well—”

Something warm and soft pressed against his cheek, close to his mouth, and Raiden sucked in a sharp breath as his heart stuttered in his chest. He swung wide eyes his crush’s way and watched as she bit her lip but didn’t avert her gaze, giving a shy but genuine smile that made him want to hug her and protect her at all costs.

While definitely not as brave as he’d been to kiss him on the lips, Izayoi couldn’t help but to return the affectionate gesture, both as a reassurance and because…well…he’d just looked too darn cute all flustered and blushing. She was still reeling from having gotten her very first kiss and her heart was pounding a mile a minute, but she could honestly say she didn’t regret it one single bit.

The two teenagers simply stared at one another for a silent minute, blinking and absorbing what had just happened. And then simultaneously they erupted into a quiet laughter, snickers and giggles echoing into the night. Feeling bold, Izayoi scooted closer to him and pressed her side against his; Raiden retaliated by removing his hand from hers and instead slinging his arm around her shoulders to tug her even closer.

“You wanna go inside?” he asked, frowning slightly as he rubbed his hand up and down her arm. Her skin was cold and he felt stupid for bringing her out here when it was so chilly out.

“Mmm…” Biting her lip, Izayoi glanced over her shoulder toward the deck and the sliding doors that led into the kitchen. She was somehow not at all surprised to find their friends pressed up against the glass, grinning from ear to ear as they spied on them. Rin, the brat, wasn’t even ashamed to be caught, waving at them from under Kohaku’s arm and Izayoi stuck her tongue out at her, though she smiled right after.

“On second thought,” Raiden drawled and a quick glance revealed he too was staring at their annoying friends, “maybe we could stay out here a little longer.”

“Sounds good to me,” she agreed, dismissing their friends and turning away just in time to miss the sight of her mother shooing away the teenagers crowded against the doors, shooting them a secret smile before walking away and dragging her protesting husband with her.

“Happy Halloween, buttercup,” Raiden murmured and dropped a kiss to her head, right between her adorable ears.

Sighing in utter contentment, warm despite the chill in the air and the happiest she could ever remember being, Izayoi smiled and dropped her head to rest on his shoulder, oblivious to everything but him.

“Happy Halloween, Raiden.”

a;kjfad i was in such a rush to get this done i forgot to add links to Izayoi’s makeup and costume, along with Raiden’s getup. whoops.

Izayoi’s Costume (though it’s more kid friendly in the fic of course)

Izayoi’s makeup

Raiden’s costume

[ahgaseda]

the hot tea || chapter 02

⇥ synopsis : your best friend, Jackson, never fails to argue against your apathy toward love and romance, but his plan to confess his true feelings toward you is rudely interrupted when you start a blog chronicling your past relationships...

⇥ warnings : this story in its entirety includes but is not limited to strong language and dialogue, recurring alcohol or drug use, and explicit sexual content, and is intended for an adult audience only!

The moans coming out of your mouth were loud and endless. It was all you could do to hold onto his shoulders as Jackson moved underneath you, his hips colliding into yours. You had expected riding him would be a steady rhythm since you controlled the pace. That was until Jackson sat up with you still in his lap, got a solid grip on your neck and the other on your thigh, and began pounding the shit out of you.

He had the propensity to be rough, this you knew. It was what you preferred in bed with him anyway. There was nothing like coming home after a long, tedious day and being shoved head first into an orgasm. Jackson was good at that, and the two of you fit together perfectly like pieces from the same puzzle.

You bucked your hips into his in an attempt to match his energy, but you didn’t get to do so for very long when release crashed into you. Jackson squeezed his grip on your body as you shuddered against him, one last wail of his name escaping your mouth. He slowed only slightly, sinking his teeth into his bottom lip as he watched you come undone at his hands.

“Goddamn,” he said lowly, getting off to the sight of what he could do to you and how well you took what he had to give.

As you began to float down from your high, you felt his thrusts turn erratic and you flexed your thighs, tightening your innermost muscles to help him along. With another swear word or two, you felt him filling you up, his fingers sinking into your skin to the point of bruising. You gripped his forearms, stroking them soothingly as a shudder tore through him.

Jackson finally fell back to the bed and you rolled off of him, both of you gazing at the ceiling as the buzzing afterglow of climax ebbed away. After a pause, you were the first to break the silence.

“Well, fuck me,” you groaned.

“I just did.”

“Shut up,” you whined playfully, landing a kiss on the corner of his mouth before rolling to your stomach. Jackson needed a steady dose of affection or he would whine… a lot.

Smug, Jackson asked, “How was it then?”

You scoffed that he even had to ask and replied breathlessly, “So good.” As the words left your mouth, you let your head fall to the mattress, your hair covering your face like a veil. Exhales were still heavy as your heart began to settle again, matching the persistent ache between your thighs.

Though you couldn’t see, Jackson was enamored and kept his eyes fixated on you. Sweat was a glistening sheen over your skin and your nude, sated form on his bed was always a more than welcome sight. The steady movements of your body as you tried to catch your breath had his undivided attention.

Had any man ever left you as satisfied as he did? Jackson felt he knew the answer to that. As it were, your cries of his name had not stopped echoing in his head.

“Wanna go one more round?” Jackson flirted, leaning forward and trailing hurried kisses up your arm.

Giggling, you pushed your hair away from your face and met his eyes, recognizing the fire in his gaze as a mere look of hunger from him set your body into overdrive again. Swallowing to wet your dry throat, you whispered coyly, “Only one more?”

“Woman,” Jackson groaned with arousal, moving to prop himself over you on hands and knees. “You’re going to be the death of me.”

“What a way to die,” you countered, remaining on your stomach as you felt his chest rub against your shoulders. A second or two later, his hips were fitting between your thighs, supported by your ass.

Jackson pushed your hair to one side with a swift movement of his hand, exposing your neck for his hot, wet kisses. Closing your eyes and biting your lip, you purred with pleasure underneath him, arching your back and pushing your ass to land squarely on his crotch.

You let him do as he pleased for the next few minutes. His hands roamed your skin and slid beneath you to cup your breasts as he became undeniably hard again. When he pushed himself into your slick folds once more, you sucked in a breath loudly with surprise and the first thrust had you gripping the sheets beneath you in tightly-clenched fists.

“Nice and tight,” Jackson growled darkly in your ear, grabbing a handful of your hair and steadily picking up the pace. He braced his free hand none too gently on your waist, anchoring you to the bed as his hips smacked into your ass.

“Jack… son,” you managed to choke out between deep and rough strokes of his cock. Damn it, he was thick. You were viscerally reminded of that every time he pushed back in and dragged back out. You lay there completely at his mercy, eyes rolling when he groaned your name and pinched your hip a little tighter.

“Where you going?” he hissed as you squirmed in his hold, trying to give him another angle as the threat of a second orgasm snared your attention. Jackson was quick to tangle his arms through yours, pinning you beneath his weight on the mattress. And once he had the leverage, his pace turned brutal.

On your lips his name was a chant, a prayer - anything that would urge him to never stop. No man had ever fucked you like Jackson did; gave you that perfect mixture of raw and hard, but reassuring and satisfying.

Though you had been repeating his name like a mantra, Jackson didn’t hesitate to get a grip on your jaw to turn your head, his lips on the corner of your mouth as he demanded, “Say my name.”

“Jackson,” you replied without missing a beat, as if it were your natural reflex to give him anything and everything he wanted in that moment if he would just keep hitting all the right spots inside you.

“Louder,” he added, driving his hips to finish you off.

His cock stroked your walls deeper and rougher until you saw stars and you complied, “Jackson!”

Not long after, you were back to the same position as before - limp on the bed as you focused on breathing normally again. Jackson lay at your side looking as haughty as ever, on his back with an arm draped over his eyes.

It was your turn to peek through your disheveled hair to watch the rise and fall of his chest. God damn, he was one fine ass specimen of a man. And he certainly knew what he was doing in the bedroom.

“One more?” you teased sheepishly.

Jackson made a sharp noise of disbelief and you giggled.

“Yeah, give me five minutes... or less,” your partner eventually mumbled.

Chuckling, you rolled over and reached for the nightstand, grabbing your phone and swiping across the screen. “Well, I officially made the blog,” you told your partner after reading your newest email.

Jackson sidled closer and peered with interest at your phone. “There’s nothing there.”

You rolled your eyes. “I haven’t posted anything yet. But I have acquired a URL,” you told him matter-of-factly.

Jackson brushed your disheveled hair out of the way with a gentle touch and asked curiously, “Who are you going to write about first?”

“I should probably start at the beginning,” you mused, then giggled mischievously. “But I’m tempted to go with a play-by-play of the amazing orgasms I just had.”

Jackson wiggled his eyebrows. “Be sure to go into detail about my huge...”

“Ego,” you interjected, without missing a beat. “Yeah, I’ll remember to add that.”

“Very funny,” Jackson deadpanned, landing his palm on your bare ass with a resounding crack.

You wiggled your hips in a taunt and smarted, “Don’t worry, Big Daddy. I will give credit where it’s due.”

“Damn right,” he huffed, grabbing the nearest blanket and proceeding to drape it over your bodies.

You glanced at the cover, feigning surprise, and questioned, “What happened to round three?”

“You plan on working tomorrow, right?” he quipped. “Wouldn’t you prefer being able to walk?”

With a snort, you agreed. “Good point.”

“Goodnight,” Jackson sang, flopping onto his side and yanking a nearby pillow under his head.

For a moment, you studied him, tempted to laugh. You expected that at any moment his eyes would flash open and he would tease you for staring at him. That was what happened the first time you spent the night with him.

Some nights you went home after having sex with Jackson. Other times you stayed. Jackson never pressured you either way, but you could tell by how insistently he spooned you that he preferred when you remained in his bed.

According to him, you made a damn fine pillow.

Returning your phone to the nightstand, you settled onto the mattress comfortably, smiling when Jackson - eyes still closed - pulled the blanket higher up your body to make sure you were warm.

chapter 01 ⇤ chapter 02 ⇥ chapter 03

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[mrs-captain-evans]

Caught in the Act - Chris Evans x You

Summary:  You and Chris enjoy some alone time after a family dinner

Pairing:  Chris Evans x Reader

Word Count:  883

Warnings:  Fluffy, sexual situations

A/N:  October is dyslexia awareness month and as a severe sufferer, I never imagined I would write, let alone post a story. This is my first ever fanfic and I want to say a massive thank you to @mycapt-ohcapt for encouraging me to bite the bullet and write. I could not have done this without you! You’re my inspiration <3

It was only the second time you had visited Chris’s family after being invited to dinner by Lisa. Throughout the day, various photo albums made there way onto your lap, as Lisa and Scott enjoyed teasing Chris and took delight in his embarrassment. Your cheeks were hurting from the constant smile you had on your face, and from laughing as his family told you stories about his childhood and how he was always getting his younger brother into trouble when growing up. Just as Carly was looking through a cabinet for the dreaded home videos, Lisa called letting everyone know dinner was ready, saving Chris's skin for today.

It was a big family affair, as it always is in the Evans household.  After dinner you and Chris retreated upstairs to his childhood bedroom to watch TV and snuggle in private, trying to relax. Lying down with your head resting on his chest is one of your favourite positions, gaining comfort from listening to his steady heartbeat. Chris had his left arm around you, resting his hand on your ass while slowing drawing circles on your lower back with his thumb. Slightly lifting your head up to his level, you could see Chris looking down at you through hooded eyes. Suddenly his lips were on yours in a soft and gentle kiss. Before you had time to think, his right arm came around your waist and he moved on top of you, pinning you to the bed underneath him. His kisses grew messy and impatient as his hands fumbled with the buttons of your blouse, desperate for skin on skin contact. Reaching the last button, you broke away from the kiss, lifting off the bed slightly so he could pull it up and off your body, throwing it across the room.

Settling back on the bed, your impromptu and intense make out session heightened your arousal, and you thrived to feel more. His hands are roaming along your body, coming up to squeeze your breasts through your lacy bra. With his head at the nape of your neck, he started kissing and sucking against your sweet spot while pulling the cup of your bra down, running his thumb over your hardened nipple. You let out a deep moan, surprised by the growl like noise you produced, while your stomach fluttered in excitement.

Just as you ran your hands down his sculpted chest to the tent in his jeans, giving the hardness you found there a little squeeze, the door swung open and Lisa walked in, asking if either of you wanted anything from the store. Your breath hitched in your throat with your cheeks turning the darkest shade of red in embarrassment. After quickly straightening up your clothes, you ran your hand through your hair trying to tame the mess that Chris created. Feeling exposed without your shirt, you pull the covers up over your body, pushing Chris away from you slightly. He groans into your neck, cursing at his mom for not knocking, trying to hide his growing erection by grabbing a discarded pillow and pulling it in front of himself. Lisa tried to avert her gaze from the both of you, embarrassed herself, and was failing miserably, giving you both a knowing smirk.

“Ma seriously? I’m busy!” Chris’s choice of words makes you lightly punch his arm in annoyance.

Lisa knew she wasn’t going to get an answer from her son and his very flustered girlfriend any time soon, so she retreated back to the hallway, pausing at the partially open door and saying, “Text me if you think of anything. I’ll leave you kids to it.” Giving Chris a wink she finally closes the door fully, giving the flustered couple privacy. You swear you can hear her happily chuckling back down the stairs. Dropping back onto the bed in a huff, you gave Chris a shove, “Oh god Chris! How can I look at her in the eye to say goodbye later.” You squeaked out in a small, high pitched voice, pausing for a moment. “Actually how can I ever look at her ever again!” Being caught in the act by his mother was, singly, the most embarrassing moment of your adult life.

Trying to keep a steady and apologetic voice, Chris said, “Ah shit baby, sorry, I thought I locked it.” He was looking over at the door with wide eyes and then moved his gaze back to you. “And for the record, Ma loves you.”

“Yeah, you sound so apologetic.” Your sarcasm dripping though as you picked up on his amused tone, raising your eyebrows at him.

Shrugging at you, he looked deep into your eyes holding your stare for a moment before the both of you burst into a fit of giggles like a pair of teenagers.

Chris jumped up from you, still giggling, and walked over to the door making sure that this time the lock was firmly in place. Just as you were about to question him, he came back towards you, eyebrows raised wickedly, and pounced back on top of you, pulling you towards him as he nestled himself between your open legs, fitting perfectly in the space there. He gazed into your eyes and asked, in a low, sexy voice, “Now where were we?”

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If you would like to be tagged, please leave a comment or send an ask.

[thewhiterabbit42]

WIP Tournament

Week 1 - Soulmates vs Somniphobia

Soulmates  [Gabriel x reader]: Every world Chuck’s created may be different, but there are some threads that remain universal, and Sam, Dean, and Castiel try to use it to their advantage to save their reality from descending into darkness.

Somniphobia [Dean x reader, Gabriel x reader]: Nothing’s the same since Gabriel’s return, including the night terrors you’ve had since you were a child.  The more you experience these, however, the less you’re certain that’s what they are.  

Below the cut are 300-500 ~1000 words from the beginning of each WIP and some general tags for each story.  Vote for the one you want to see continued in the next round by:

Sending an Ask (anon’s allowed)

Leaving a comment on this post or in the body/tags of reblogs

Voting is open until midnight 6/7.  Thanks in advance to everyone who participates and keeps my muse going!

Soulmates

Preview warnings: none

General story tags: series, dark fic, canon divergent, post S14, dark(ish) Gabriel, slow burn, eventual smut [additional tags withheld to avoid spoilers]

You’re told you’re important, so much so that there are people ready to fight and die at a moment’s notice for you, but you don’t understand why your life is worth more than anyone else’s.  

You’re told you’re lucky.  Hundreds of people are out there, alone and defenseless, but you have the Winchesters and the seraphim, Castiel, to protect you.  

You’re told you’ll understand when you get there.  It will all make sense.  You’ll just know, and it sounds one degree away how parents pacify a questioning child.

You’re told so many things, about angels and demons, zombies and God.  The seraphim, Sam, and Dean are a wealth of knowledge, and it’s clear their intelligence and determination is much of what’s preventing monsters from swallowing this world whole.

Yet, for all their wisdom and abilities, you don’t understand why none of them can tell you who you really are.

They say your name is Ana, but it feels the same as when they tell you how the world came to be like this: empty, foreign, and one hundred percent certifiable.  

You can’t remember a thing from before you woke up to the three of them standing over you while you suffered from what felt like a universal sized hangover.  They’d practically had to drag you from the building as it became swarmed, and there isn’t much you recall from that either other than snarls and snaps and screams.  

If you didn’t know better, you would swear this is just one, long nightmare.  

The fact you can’t take ten steps without getting whacked by a zombie, spirit, or demon convinces you otherwise.  Rather, the constant pain of it does.  Memory or not, you’re pretty certain you’ve never hurt his much in your life, and if that’s not true, then it’s a blessing your past has vanished.

Sometimes it feels like you’ve been sucked into a work of fiction and are living someone else’s story.  Most days, however, it simply feels like Hell on earth, which you imagine is the entire point of an apocalypse.   

It takes you all of a day to realize you don’t like being told.  What to do.  How to act.  When to drop it.  Anything by the seraphim.  It could be information overload, or maybe how he acts like saving your life somehow gives him the right to control it.  

There’s just as much that they don’t tell you, like why you’re so special or where you’re even going.  Nobody knows, except the trio because it’s too important.  

The seraphim attempts to drop a scholarly essay on you about the fickleness of human nature and how easily persuaded it becomes during times of uncertainty and duress.  Dean thankfully breaks it down for you in much more relevant terms.  

“Demons are convincing people to go darkside without possessing them.  Promising them favors and rewards, the usual bullshit.”

You’re thankful for his candor, but that’s as far as it extends, his lips as sealed as tightly as the seraphim’s.  You might have an in with the gentle, if not overly pensive giant that accompanies them, but every time you think you have a moment alone with Sam, one of the others appears and the opportunity slips away.  

Whatever you were before this is clearly not useful.  There’s no muscle memory or instinct to guide you.  You are so far out of your element, and watching them cut through monsters like they’re nothing make you question how long you’ll actually survive.  

You won’t.  You’re not meant for this world.  You don’t suppose anyone is, really.  Who’s born to go up against such impossible odds?  To live in fear and witness such gruesome horrors?

You know you need them, which is why you don’t push for answers.  Not at first.  But you’re only human, and as the days stretch on in front of you, your ability to blindly trust there’s a reason for this all erodes with every fresh body that’s left in your wake.  

It’s not that they’re heartless.  You see the toll it takes every time they’re forced to ignore a cry for help, or watch another ally sacrifice themselves for the cause.  But you don’t operate this way, on secrets and orders and the greater good, especially when you can’t fathom how you could be part of it.

They’re not a chatty bunch to begin with, but the car is particularly silent after your protest.  Sam’s features are pinched in thought, worry more than anything seeping through the surface.  Dean is not impressed, though he hasn’t said a word.  The seraphim, however, is pissed.

There’s no doubt in your mind if one of the men had lectured you, you’d have simply tuned them out, but there’s no ignoring the seraphim when he’s mad.  Fire and brimstone may not fall from his lips, but there was plenty of Heaven’s wrath in his eyes.  

“What you did was stupid and reckless, and the moment you left this car you put everyone on this planet in jeopardy.”  He thunders, blue burning so fierce it begins to glow.  “Do you have anything to say for yourself?”

“I didn’t ask for this!” You hiss, jabbing him hard in the center of his trenchcoat, sorely tempted to jump out of the car for the second time that day.    

You flex your free hand, grimacing at their rawness as you briefly wonder if you’ve ever had road rash before.  The zombie bite to the shoulder, however, you’re pretty certain is a new one.  

You move your hand again, the discomfort temporarily distracting you from the persistent, burning throb that’s beginning to spread down your arm.

For someone so important, you’d think they’d do a better job of patching you up.  

Somniphobia

Preview warnings: none

General story tags: one shot (?), canon divergent, dark fic, dark(ish) Gabriel, love triangle

“One.”  A solitary finger appears over the edge of your lorebook, dragging it down to reveal determined shades of gold.  

Even though it’s futile, you have to at least attempt to change the topic.  “One more victim before we hit a double digit body count?”  

As expected, it’s like you haven’t even spoken.  

“One night,” Gabriel insists, using both his hands to push your book flat onto the table. “Let me take you out of this dismal hole in the ground for one evening and do something fun like we used to.”

You sigh, loudly, hoping this might be the time he takes the hint.  He doesn’t, and you end up having to push his grip away from the pages so you can try to go back to reading.  “I’m in the middle of helping Dean.”

“What?  He suddenly out of thumbs and unable to crack a book himself?”  The archangel snarks.  There’s an unusual thrum of impatience beneath his words.  Not that it’s uncommon for him to be irritable these days.  He’s just not usually with you.

“We’re a team,” you remind him.  Not that you’re certain he understands the concept.  He might act like he’s the newest member of Team Free Will, but you have a sneaking suspicion it’s because so far there’s the payoff of finishing his hit list and getting to stick his dick in something.  

“For crying out loud,” he hisses, all pretense of patience vanishing.  “Are you ever gonna come off that?  It was one time.”

Between you, Sam, and Dean, you’re aware of at least three, and you try hard not to think about how high the actual number is if all of you have managed to catch them.  

You’re not certain what upsets you more.  That he’s clearly hit it off with Rowena.  That he’s lying to your face about it, or maybe it’s the likelihood he’s still doing it even as he’s on a mission to rekindle your friendship in what increasingly feels like not so platonic ways.

You know he’s been through a lot.  You know the horrors he’s experienced are the kinds of things that change someone.  You still accept him, whatever variant he may be now, but knowing about Rowena still smarts.  More than you’d like to admit.  More than you know is fair.  Nonetheless, it does, and you’ve had enough disappointment in your life than to want to know how much it will hurt to become just another one night stand to him.

“C’mon, sweetheart, what will it take to convince you to give me a chance?”

You purse your lips, refusing to answer him, no different than the time before, the one before that, or the several before that.

“I need to focus right now.”  End of discussion.

From the corner of your eye you can see his hand raising, fingers poised for that trademark snap.  The moment it echoes around the room you sigh, flipping the book shut and folding your arms over your chest like a sullen child.

You know what he’s done, and as happy as you should be that there is one less monster in the world, you hate it when he swoops in to save the day.  Before, there was a thread of altruism running through most of his actions.  Now, it’s whatever serves his interests in the moment, and another reminder that the Gabriel you knew is gone.

The archangel, on the other hand, looks positively pleased with himself.

“Want to know what it was?”

You look him square in the eye.  "A power move?“

Your not certain what happens in these moments when everything stills and he looks almost unnatural.  It’s too subtle for human perception, but whatever it is makes you incredibly uneasy beyond the brief second it occurs.  

“Thanks for the help, Gabriel,” he smiles brightly, though it’s your voice that comes out of his mouth.  A slightly more sarcastic version, but still you nonetheless.

You scrub at your face, trying to do a hard reset with your mood.  He’s right.  Regardless of his motives, you should be grateful that no one else is going to get hurt.

“I’m sorry.”  You don’t mean to be such an ass.  He just has a way of bringing that out in you these days.  “I’m just tired.  Thank you.”

There’s a pause before his eyes narrow.  “Are you having nightmares again?”

They’re not exactly nightmares.  Night terrors, perhaps, though you think the official term is sleep paralysis.  All of it’s just an easier way of saying you’re such a hot mess that you can’t even manage to wake up from sleep normally.  

They started when you were a kid, and they tend to really ramp up when you’re under stress.   

Which, given your line of work and the company you keep, tends to be a lot.  

What Gabriel doesn’t know is how bad they’ve been since he died… or rather faked his own death and took off to fuck and party his way through existence.  

You’d also like to keep it that way.  

“It’s whatever,” you brush his concern aside.  “I should call Dean and let him know it’s done.”  

You need to get away from him, before your not so subtle pushes to keep him at arm’s length turn into shoves.  The more he tries to pretend like things haven’t changed, the more you resent him and not the monsters responsible for changing him into the warped version of your friend that’s returned.  

You stand up, but you haven’t even taken a step when he catches you by the arm.

“You know you can talk to me, right?”  All pretenses drop.  That soft underbelly of his emerges, in the quiet quality of his voice, resonating beneath his touch as his thumb strokes along your sleeve.

In these rare moments, he almost sounds like himself again, and they never fail to remind you how much you miss him: your Gabriel.  

You catch yourself before you lean into him, but you don’t stop the finger beneath your chin from making you look at him.  

The moment your eyes meet his you immediately regret it.  

There’s nothing there.  No warm flecks of gold.  No playful green.  Nothing but still waters surrounding vacuous depths that scare you with how infinite they seem.  

“I know I messed up.  With a lot of things.  With you.”  His confession is as startling as the emptiness that continues to echo through his gaze.  “But that doesn’t mean I’ve stopped caring.”  

You can’t help but feel like it’s forced, like he’s trying way too hard to be what he thinks you want him to be, and it hurts far more than him sleeping around ever could.  His sincerity is the last vestige of your friend you have to cling to, and if that, too, is gone, you’re not certain you know who is really standing in front of you.  

Soulmates or somniphobia?  Send and ask and let me know!

[fightsbck]

DIFFERENCE OF GENDRY’S CHARACTERISATION IN SEASON 8 EPISODE 2 

content:    you heard it - i should be sleeping but i didn’t.   i watched the leak episode.   i’m not fully conscious enough to make a full review of it,   but i’ve focused my entire thoughts about gendry because i’ve been sort of hung up regarding him since there was an image spoiler a few hours beforehand.   so here are some lines i’ll be drawing and refuse to take as part of my writing of him.

trigger warning:   got spoilers,   rape,  sexual assaults.

things i'm willing to incorporate into my writing:

001               gendry has been busy making the weapons he should’ve been making instead.    i like that he doesn’t necessarily prioritise arya’s,   even if it was specially requested from her;    it means he knows the exact reason why he was being brought to north   -    that was to supply the fighting men in winterfell with weapons just in time for the invasion.    he had a job to do when he arrived,   and he stuck to it.    that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to do arya’s nor made sure he’d made it well for her;   just that he’d saved it up for later.

002               it’s hot in the forge,   my dudes,   so the reason gendry was wearing a thin-layered of tunic wasn’t because he was trying to impress arya.   it’s just naturally hot when you’re close to the fire most of the time,   which he was,   and i’ve had had a thought-out headcanon before that gendry naturally runs warm,   body-temperature wise.   so yes,   i accept this as canon,   but not out of any intention to allow nor encourage any sexual behaviour.

003                gendry is strong.   he took a hammer from arya and struck it down with one swing against the bark and walk away like it’s fucking nothing.    that’s canon and i fucking like it.

004                gendry does give arya her weapon personally.    and he is impressed that she’s done well in herself as an armed woman considering he’d known her as a girl who was still so reckless while they’re-on-the-lam,    but rather than complete awe,   i think,   like the show has been portraying,    i might add a tinge mix of confusion and worry.    gendry will always be plagued by the guilt of leaving her,    and probably never quite stop blaming himself for the things that she must’ve endured alone afterwards.    and he knew that,  with such precise control of her skills,   she didn’t develop it easily.    so yes,   he worries.   and not just contemplative. 

things i’m NOT willing, nor ever, going to incorporate into my writing:

001               gendry does visit arya later to deliver the weapon she’s asked,   but he won’t be as freely to have told her about his ancestry nor her experience with the red woman.   (  still,  i like how joe said,  “she wanted my blood. for some spell.”  so i’m taking that as canon if he should ever explain it.  )  this is because i see   gendry as a very private person.   all his life,   up until arya,  was him defending and protecting himself:   that means he carries his anger and worry and concern all on his own without having to think that relying on people could be an option.   

and while arya changed that particular point of view,   when he began to trust her and they’ve developed that equal camaraderie and partnership while they’re on the run,    this is not the same arya that he knew.   gendry will tell bits and pieces,   yes,   i won’t deny,   but see:   how they’ve made arya as being the one to ask him all the questions.   gendry doesn’t trust this behaviour.   and he hadn’t before   (   see:  his first meeting with ned stark when ned asked him questions,  and he seems closed off.   ),   i don’t understand why he should be suddenly okay with it now.

of course,   one may argue it’s because they were friends before,   good friends even.   and i agree.   gendry has always held a certain torch for arya.   but again:   this isn’t the same arya that he knew.    and i know the show’s portraying him as hideously dumber than he is,   but if gendry can detect arya was a girl when they were kids — before they were close,   mind you — i think he would’ve had suspicion that arya isn’t the same.    gendry would want an equal footing in this relationship once more,  i would believe;   because it’s what they had before,   and what he wants to continue in the future.

this means,   he gets to ask his own questions and have them be answered before he could re-trust arya again.    if arya deflects,   so will he.

002              gendry does not engage in a sexual relationship with arya.   okay,   i feel like i shouldn’t have to explain this,   but i will:   so gendry was raped.    he was sexually assaulted,   and he is traumatised by it.   i know this doesn’t mean that gendry shouldn’t allow himself to indulge with further sexual relationships if he means it,    but  ...   this wasn’t meaningful.   again,   referring to the above reasoning mostly that,   

reason one.    gendry doesn’t know this arya.   yes,  they’ve shared a large part of their history with one another,   gendry and arya even grew together for a few years on the road,   but gendry didn’t return the same ( see: how he’s become more of an active character than passive,  which he was before when he was a boy,  regarding his place in the social hierarchy ),  so why should arya does?

reason two.    and again,   i will repeat:   gendry is a very private person;   reclusive,   almost.   wary and guarded easily with people he doesn’t know.    he’s had good reasons to be like that,   too,   considering his background and his experiences at being tossed aside from one guardian to a captor etc.   in the books,   he has refused to engage with women who are flirting with him.   i chalk it up to the fact that gendry just has an abundant sense of distrust.

and referring back to the first reason,   gendry has yet to trust this arya.    of course,   there was that basis of their past that didn’t make him completely wary of her,   but...   at the same time,    why should he?   so far,   arya has given him no reason to.  she wasn’t like the girl he used to know,   and up until then,  she has given exactly zero information on where she’d been or how she’s changed.    arya is now just a lady who wore the face of a girl he knew,  and sometimes smiled at the jokes that they’ve shared.   but she’s not the same,   and she doesn’t seem willing to open up to him about it.

so yes,   when there’s lack of trust,   there would’ve been lack of motivation for him to pursue or agree to arya’s offer.

reason three.   gendry is and always will be wary of his status.   it doesn’t matter whose son he was:   he is a mere smith,   and he is uneducated,   and he is a lowborn.    he knows this.    this doesn’t have to be a bad thing.   it’s just who he is,   and gendry’s long accepted this.   with that said,   no matter how much he jokes or teases arya about it,    arya is a highborn.    gendry just wouldn’t fuck with that,   okay?   a kiss,   or a long hug,   if you want to show that he’s attracted;    but sex in a fairly public place where,    you know,   he could’ve gotten killed if anybody just passed by and saw,   is not going to go.   gendry’s been taught for about most of his life of his place in the hierarchy system,   those sort of teaching just doesn’t fly out of the window one night. 

although of course,   you may argue on two basis (1)  that lust can make people do stupid shit,   and (2) lust to add with “the end of the world” trope makes them even stupider.   i agree.   however,   this is arya.    as much as gendry doesn’t know this new version of her nor trust her,   as per reason one and two,   that doesn’t mean he’s just going to defile her like that.   not only was he compromising his place as a smith brought by the kindness of jon, who was king then,   but he’s also risking her reputation as a lady.   she may not care,   fine,   but he does.   he always have,   and he always will.

reason four.    back to the meaningful thing,   yeah.   just.    gendry is already someone who needs absolute trust for him to finally be comfortable enough with someone for him to freely complaint,    let alone sexually be involved with,    but past his rape and sexual assault makes it worse.    also the way arya treated him?    all cold and harsh and quite mechanical  ( sorry tv!show arya,  but it’s true  )   and her quickly assuming the dominant / top position without speaking with him?   it’s not going to work.   gendry’ll faster gets a panic attack and run the hell away to make sure he’s not bounded to the wall than to indulge her,   no matter who she is or who she’s been to him.

reason five.    probably a summarisation of all the reasons above,   but he’s demisexual as fuck.   he cares for arya,   yes,   but he doesn’t know her enough,   in my writing,   post-reunion to trust his body in her hand.

003              gendry had not slept with other women.   after melissandre,   he becomes even more reclusive and private in king’s landing.    i wanna add more on the fact that seeing women and having meaningless sex with them is also coming from the fact that he watched his mom getting groped almost daily when she was working (when he was young) was what rooted this dislike towards men just coming blindly after girls,  but that’s another headcanon for another time.  regardless,  gendry is — technically — a virgin.

004              gendry is not this dumb.   i swear to god.   he is a simple boy,  yes,  and a lot of time in his narration he refers to himself as “stupid”,   but he’s not.   gendry is a complex,   though maybe not as complicated or as many layered as others,   character who is equally thoughtful and logical and smart in his own way.   a friendly reminder that,   a lot of times,  in the books,   arya has acknowledged several times that gendry was correct and that she was wrong.   he’s not just some dumb sidekick who’s got all the muscles.   the tv show should stop writing him as so,   and i won’t be writing him like that here.

tl;dr                gendry didn’t have sex with arya,  thanks.    also HUGE SHOUT OUT to @xneedlepoint and @strklings for listening to me ramble about it before!!!!! yOU GUYS ARE THE MVP AND ILY!!!!!!!

DON’T REBLOG THIS !!!

[utopiannamjoon]

Ephemeral, Part 4

Words: 5,5k

Warning: There is a scene (very end of the story)of sexual nature that might be uncomfortable for some readers. It isn’t aggressive but I thought I’d point it out. Also swearing cuz im a foul mouth.

Genre: Fluff, angst, smut

Pairing: Jimin x reader, Namjoon x reader

A/n: I’m so sorry for the long wait. Tell me your thoughts by commenting or inboxing me, I will answer. Please like, and/or reblog. It helps me keep motivated to continue this series. I feel like I should add that this chapter doesn’t have smut in it since all of the previous ones did.

+please comment and give me your thoughts. Ya boi needs validation

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5

Masterlist

“I love you.”

His words echoed in the room ricocheting from every surface. It took you a long second to register them in your mind. You already had mixed feelings about Jimin but this just shook the margarita of feelings up into a mess. “Wh- WHAT?!” You spluttered, pushing him off you, “You say that to your other lays too?!”

His mouth dropped and eyes squinted, looking at you confused. You took the blanket laying on the back of the couch and held it in front of your body, frantically searching for your underwear. He followed your lead and put a pillow on his lap, his face was full on question mark.

“My lays?” he raised his voice, “Is that what you think of me? That I fuck around?” His eyebrows furrowed, he was offended. He started looking for his boxers and pants.

“Yes. No - I don’t fucking know!” you shrieked. Jimin pulled on his pants and tightened his belt when it clicked in his head, “Is that why you acted so cold towards me when I ran into you with Jiwoo? You think you mean nothing to me?! You’re the first one I’ve had sex with in years!” his voice grew louder on every word, “I can count the times I had sex with my wife with my one hand, and those times weren’t that great.” You groaned out of frustration not knowing what to answer.

“I won’t lie to you Y/n. I have tried with other women but I couldn’t fuck them - but they were a year before I met you,” He rambled and stuttered, looking at his hands, “I only have sex when I’m in love.” Jimin fiddled his thumbs, avoiding eye contact with you. The poor man was embarrassed to tell you his secret.

“God, Jimin!” you yelled into your hands, “You can’t say that! I’m married, you’re married!” The infatuation you felt for him scared you more than anything. It couldn’t work, you can’t just divorce Namjoon. You wish it was that simple but there are a lot more to it.

“You think I don’t know that?!” he yelled, being as frustrated as you were. Jimin sighed and took a step closer to you, reaching his hands to cup your face. “I do love you and I’m not sorry for saying it. I know at some point I want to be married to you, not to Jiwoo. I know sometime in the future I want to have children, and you already know who with,” he confessed while stroking your cheek, “But judging from your reaction you don’t want the same.” He released your face and let out a heartbreaking exhale.

Jimin picked his shirt and gave you a final agonizing smile before walking towards the front door. You couldn’t move, you stared until his back disappeared from your line of sight and heard the front door open and close.

Namjoon reached Seokjin’s office, in the tallest skyscraper of the city. The elevator took him to the lavish top floor, or how Seokjin liked to call it: “... Seokjin’s department. Thank you Namjoon for coming in so soon,” the big boss welcomed him in his office with hand gestures, “Please have a seat.” Namjoon sat down across Seokjin and offering him the signed contract.

“Thank you, Namjoon, but the conditions of the contract has changed,” Seokjin eyed the paper in his hands.  “I spoke to Mr. Park and we’ve come to a different conclusion about this. The percentages have changed drastically,” the extravagantly dressed man said with a glint of money in his eyes.

Namjoon furrowed his eyebrows. He just talked to Jimin twenty minutes ago. How did his mind change so fast? Jimin was beyond excited to sign it. Namjoon would do anything to keep this deal, that’s how much weight it had for him.

“I don’t understand, Jimin just signed this contract,” he pointed at the precious paper in Seokjin’s hand, trying not to lose his cool. Namjoon’s hands formed into fists, nails nearly digging into his own skin.

“Oh you see,” Seokjin crossed his arms, “I spoke to the owner of Park Inc Mr. Yoonwoo Park about it.” Namjoon nodded. Yoonwoo Park? Jimin wasn’t the owner and founder? He was certain Jimin was the owner. Who was this other guy?

“Okay, so what’re the new percentages?” Namjoon pried further. His interest was lit up, this took a new turn. He needed to be on the top of everything.

“50% for me,” Seokjin explained, but Namjoon rolled his eyes. Of course Seokjin would get half. “35% for Park Inc. and 15% for you.”

“That is unacceptable! You can’t cut 10% from me without my consent after the contract is already signed,” Namjoon stood up furiously almost slamming his fist on Seokjin’s desk. That 10% meant millions of loss to Namjoon, and losing that was in the way of his progress. Seokjin calmly raised his finger ordering Namjoon to shut up, “That is unless,” Seokjin waited for Namjoon to sit back down which he did humbly after Seokjin stared at him sternly, “Park Inc. refuses the offer. In that case their share would become yours. Making you co- owners with that 50% with me. I’ve done calculations and we wouldn’t take any damage if they don’t sign. However you have to discuss this with Jimin since how I understand, he is the one responsible for the contract,” Seokjin walked over to Namjoon’s chair, “I’ll be waiting for both of your answers.” Namjoon shook his hand and something sinister set off in his eyes, the glint in them making anyone on his path uneasy.

Namjoon sped through red lights, taking sharp corners. Thankfully it was late and only few people were out. He parked his car next to a fire post and took long steps. Namjoon walked in the building, staff immediately bowing to him and making way.

He stood tall as he stepped through the waiting room, the secretary saying nothing but bowing as Namjoon opened the door to the blonde man’s office. The scary thing about Namjoon was that he was extremely well known in the business world and nobody played around with him, he had money and influence over everything. The only person above him was Seokjin.

“Oh Mr. Kim, what a nice surprise,” Jimin stood up to bow, “I didn’t know you are coming.” Namjoon didn’t bow back, he just nodded. Jimin brushed off his unrespectful manners. He was on a mission and being polite to the shorter man wouldn’t affect him in anyway.  “Mr. Park - Jimin, if I may,” Namjoon started, Jimin nodded approving to be in first name basis with the older man, “I don’t know if you’ve heard but the conditions of the contract have changed.” Namjoon sat down on the leather chair across Jimin and crossed his legs. “What? But it’s already been signed,” Jimin cocked his head puzzled. He leaned closer to Namjoon, “How did it change?”

“Actually the new deal is favorable for you,” Namjoon explained calmly, as if he didn’t have vested interest, “but I don’t think that’s important right now.” Jimin’s head still remained tilted, and with a hand movement he urged Namjoon to continue.  “A little birdie told me that you don’t own Park inc., but Mr. Park Yoonwoo does,” Namjoon smirked eerily as Jimin’s smile fell. “It took me a moment before it clicked, Park Yoonwoo is Jiwoo’s father. It was just a lucky coincidence that you shared a surname.”

“And why does that matter?” Jimin asked, not understanding what’s happening, whatever the other insinuated can’t be good based on the look on his face. Namjoon let out a chuckle, “I want you to drop the contract.”

Jimin just scoffed at Namjoon but his devious expression didn’t change. “That’s absolutely outrageous! You cannot be serious,” Jimin’s voice raised a little but he didn’t want to show his temper getting better of him. “Is it now Jimin?” Namjoon leaned closer and he breath out, “I know you’ve been fucking my wife.”

“How could you suggest such a thing?” Jimin kept his calm but his heart dropped to his stomach. How did he know? Jimin had nightmares of this happening but he thought in reality it wouldn’t. This was a situation he couldn’t have prepared for. Namjoon eyed the shorter man’s movements and expressions. Jimin’s chest heaved and his eyes moved more hastily from nervousness.

“You play me as a fool,” Namjoon chuckled deeply from his chest. Within a second his face got serious and he leaned even closer to the blonde man, “I live in a mansion that costs millions. You think I wouldn’t install security cameras? Besides her ass print was on my car from the fun you two had. At the gathering with Seokjin, you entered the bathroom with her and came out with your shirt improperly tucked back, and I know you wouldn’t come out like that unless you had something on your mind, you’re a clean guy. I’m convinced and you can’t tell me otherwise.” Namjoon’s tone was mocking, the tone alone was calling Jimin an idiot, “I’ve never seen her happier when receiving a message. So thanks to you she doesn’t mope around anymore.”

“Okay fine, let’s say that I have. Why do you care? You don’t love her. She is just a pawn to you, to use in your games.” Jimin’s patience was running a bit thin. He didn’t see a point in denying what Namjoon was accusing him of, and quite frankly he wasn’t ashamed or regretful of it. But being confronted by him, accusing him of something he wasn’t ready to share yet made him anxious.

“From what I remember that Park Yoonwoo is a bit of a hardass. Didn’t his forceful ways make you marry Jiwoo? So if you don’t get this deal he is probably going to fire you,” Namjoon tapped a finger on his chin, “Nay. There is two choices but either way you’re going to lose your current position, which will be morbid nonetheless. You’re going to be heavily demoted or he is going to fire you.”

“What does any of that have to do with the deal? Why do you want it so much? What’s it to you? I worked hard for this position, I’m not going to let you take it away, ” Jimin told him sternly, laying his fist on the desk. “I call bullshit on that Jimin. You courted Jiwoo and that’s how you got your job, you’re a real romantic and her father loves it. And I really do think it’s going to happen, you see,” Namjoon pressed his hands together, moving them in sync with his words, “If you don’t drop it, I’ll tell Park Yoonwoo about your affair with my wife. Him being a traditional man, not allowing you to embarrass his family, will have you divorced and consequently losing your job. As for Jiwoo, I know she doesn’t care. She sleeps around plenty,” Namjoon winked when he said the last sentence. Jimin quickly shook his mind off of his wife and Namjoon getting at it.

“You can’t do that. You’re forcing me out of my job and dragging Y/n with me! Her social status would plummet to the ground!” Jimin stood up slamming both of his hands on the desk. Namjoon smirked, that’s what he wanted to hear. Jimin mentioned you, he was deeply involved despite the heartache he went through, though Namjoon didn’t know that. He needed to be sure about his feelings, “Do you care about her?”

Jimin sighed. What’s the point of lying anymore even though his heart felt agonizing pain. Namjoon had him trapped, he didn’t know what to say, so he sticked with the truth which might hurt him later but he doesn’t care. Jimin just nodded, his face being sincere. He didn’t feel like he had to say anything. The reality took over him as your husband opposed him.

This took a surprising turn for Namjoon, he knew you fucked but didn’t know emotions were involved from Jimin’s part. However he was willing to do everything to get the deal, the contract would shoot his company to the top.

“You have few options here Jimmy boy. Break the contract and deal with the consequences from Yoonwoo. Whether you get demoted or fired, I don’t care. The company will get back on its feet in no time. Or let me do it for you by blabbing my mouth and telling on you and my wife. From my standpoint you have two choices. Choose wisely,” Namjoon adviced with a corrupt gaze, “Do you want have a job in the first place? You’re just going to get demoted. If you let me do it for you, you’re going to get divorced AND fired,” Namjoon stated smugly, enjoying Jimin’s battle inside his head.

“You would drag her down with me? Do you have no care for her at all?” Jimin spat, disgusted by the other’s attitude. Even in this situation you were on his mind. Surely he must’ve felt something for you, there’s a reason you are married. You were his wife, how could he treat you like this?

“Listen here lover boy,” Namjoon stood up, leaning his hands on the desk, towering over Jimin, “I don’t give a shit. Hell I’ll even file a divorce over this if you’re so obsessed with her. I want this deal all for me, I need you to get out of it,” his voice got lower and more intimidating as he ordered the younger man what to do. The hellish undertones in Namjoon’s voice send shivers down the blonde man’s spine. Jimin stared in silence, eyes growing wider in disbelieve as the maniacal man in front of him spoke.

“Two weeks,” Namjoon said, opening the office door. He turned around to give a final look at Jimin’s frozen state, “You better have done your decision by then. I’m sure you’ll make the right call. Would be sad to harm that pretty little face of yours.”

Anytime a notification popped on your phone your heart jumped but quickly fell again, you checked it with a frown, it wasn’t him. Jimin hasn’t been answering your texts. You knew it’s because you let him leave without a word. You regretted that, it was a mistake. But you still needed to talk to him, to tell him you loved him too. Namjoon didn’t see you smile again, you held your head low and he saw your hopes slowly crashing down. He knew it was his doings and he didn’t regret it, but he didn’t enjoy your sadness since it brought the whole mood down. It wasn’t pleasant for him to live in a house of depression. It got in his way of work, he already got used to you being happy, even bringing him coffee, and pastries when he was trapped in his office for hours. More than anything he was just annoyed by your blue mood.

“Are you sure you really want to continue eating that? I think you’ve stuffed your face enough.”

Namjoon entered the room with a newspaper in his hand and a scotch in the other. You’ve been shoveling ice cream at an alarming rate for few evenings while watching tv-dramas. You looked at yourself, pajamas with ice scream stains and crumbs all over. Soda cans and empty ice cream packages on the coffee table in front of you. Saying nothing, you wiped your mouth with the back of your hand and set bowl of ice cream on the table. Namjoon sat on the lounge chair, crossing his legs he peeked over his glasses looking at you. He sighed and shook his head disapproving your habits of leaving trash everywhere. His comment made you self conscious about your eating but other than that you didn’t mind him, you didn’t care. You continued to watch your tv-shows while he read the newspaper near you. For a moment you felt like it was domestic, something that a couple, a family did. You felt warm inside. You didn’t even notice when the smallest of smiles took over your lips, but he saw. From the corner of his eye he watched as your face turned positive, something that he had missed. He didn’t want to go back to living like you two did for few years.

You snuggled the warm blanket, your eyes slowly closing, drifting you to sleep. Namjoon took the controller from your hand and turned the tv off. He gathered the junk you left on the coffee table and took them to the trash. He took his time to look at your sleeping state. He put his left arm under your legs and his right arm behind your shoulders and picked you up. Your head laid on his chest when he carried you to bed. With little to no effort Namjoon walked up the stairs with you in his arms. Your head came in contact with your soft pillow, and Namjoon pulled the blanket over you. He turned off the lights and closed the door, still looking at your peaceful slumber.

Bright sunlight attacked your eyes waking you up. Groaning, you stretched your arms and looked at your surroundings. You were quite confused because you fell asleep on the couch, not on your bed. A thought of Namjoon carrying you to bed instead of just leaving you in living room, made butterflies appear in your stomach, a feeling you’ve recently only felt with Jimin. It was a small act of kindness from Namjoon but it made you happy. He still cared though your marriage had been plummeting for many many months.

You threw on some sweatpants and a t-shirt before leaving the room. You walked towards the stairs but noticed his office door open. You peeked in to see him slumped on his desk, sleeping. It made you sad that he did this to himself. You’d rather have him sleeping in a bed next to you than on his chair leaning on his desk.

You got closer to him and sweeped hair off his face, though he was sleeping he looked tired. You fetched a quilt from your bedroom and came to wrap it around him. In his sleep he pulled the quilt closer to him, snuggling into it. You piled the folders that had been thrown on the flood and placed them on the desk. You took his coffee mug and went downstairs.

You made coffee and cooked bacon, and eggs. You shared the food on two plates and poured coffee in your mugs. You placed the dishes on the kitchen island. You stabbed the egg with your fork breaking the egg yolk, oozing on the plate and over the bacon.

Namjoon woke up with a sore neck, cursing at himself for falling asleep. He looked at the quilt on his shoulders before taking it off and laying it on the back of his chair. His nose took him to the kitchen where you were leaning your elbow on the counter and playing with your food. His attention got caught on the plate and the full coffee mug across you. His dimple deepened when he realized you made some for him too.

“Morning,” he said in a deep, raspy voice.

“Good morning,” you lowered the coffee mug from your lips, “I made breakfast.” You pointed at his plate and he smiled at you. You almost thought it was sincere, one of those smiles he used to share with you, and only you. It almost made you blush, it reminded you of just getting to know each other, and the huge crush you had on him. He was such a sweet guy, you wonder what happened to you two.

“Thank you but you shouldn’t have,” he said trying to be modest as he took a fork and dug in.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” you scoffed at him, “I wanted to make you some.” Which you did, as a thank you for being so kind to you. It was very rare of Namjoon so maybe it was a turning point in your relationship and you didn’t want to mess it up. He smiled with cheeks full of bacon at your words.

Namjoon took a gulp of his coffee, “Oh! I almost forgot to tell you. I was invited to a dinner by a potential customer and I hoped you would join me. It’s not a business meeting per se, but I was invited so… I have to go.” What surprised you most was his words. He wasn’t ordering you but asking you. Hoping that you’d go with him.

“Of course,” you said a little too excited for your own taste, “I’d be happy to accompany you.” You knew that the men who had dinners without their wives were frowned upon. Women were accessories in this business, that’s a fact you’ve known since you were still in diapers. But honestly if this helped you mend your relationship you’re all aboard. You didn’t want to live with a man who didn’t even like you so you wanted to take advantage of his mood.

“Fantastic,” he looked at you with big eyes and raised eyebrows. He was thanking the lord in his mind, he knew you hated joining him but he had to take the chance and ask you.

“When is it?”

“Today.”

“Today?!” you repeated his words. It’s not that you had any plans but you were thinking about how you’ve been shoving your mouth with garbage for a week now. Did you even fit your dresses? Not that you’ve gained that much weight but it sure must’ve bloated your stomach and face. You groaned to yourself already thinking about the inside of your closet and what you owned.

“Why are you so shocked?” he questioned you. It wasn’t the first time he has given you a short notice.

“I don’t think I can fit my dresses,” you whimpered and rested your face in your hands. He almost laughed at your cute reaction but held it together. He sighed understanding your pain, he could see your thought process and the insecurities.

“I know you’ve not followed your diet that much.. but you still look perfect. You haven’t gained weight,” he claimed with a soft voice.

You just sighed into your hands right before he grabbed your wrists and pulled them away from your face, “Listen I’ll take you shopping. Let’s get you a new dress so you don’t have to worry about your old ones. How about that?”

You coyly nodded at his suggestion, looking everywhere but his eyes. It took you by surprise how you felt shy in front of him after so long. He chuckled at your adorable expression, “C’mon we don’t have all day to waste.”

Dress shopping went better than you could’ve ever imagined. You actually had fun. Namjoon had all of his focus on you, something that was uncommon so you bathed in the attention as much as you could now that you finally had it. He made jokes and even cringy puns that made you laugh nevertheless. Namjoon lead you to an elegant store filled with expensive clothing, too expensive for your taste. You knew you didn’t have to worry about money but this was too much. He saw a blue dress on a mannequin, pointed at it and told you to try it. A staff member went to fetch you the dress. You tried it on, it was perfect. Your husband did have a good, but a pricey taste after all. The dress hugged your curves, and the hem soared in the air as you twirled around to show Namjoon. Dimples deeper than the ocean, eyes disappearing with his beautiful smile. He read your expression and said to the staff member that you’ll take it. You didn’t even change back from the dress but kept it on.

You just had enough time to go back home, fix your hair and make-up before leaving to the dinner party. Namjoon’s head bopped in sync with the music from the radio, and tapped his thumb on the steering wheel on the beat. Namjoon walked around the car to open the door for you and he offered his arm for you. You grabbed his bicep and he lead you towards the door. The house was less than half of the size of yours but still normal, everyday folk couldn’t afford it in their lifetime. The house looked cozy, warm, and inviting, the complete opposite of yours. Your house was gloomy, with dark walls, dark furniture, and dim lighting reflecting your husbands true personality. A friendly looking man, pushing 70’s came to the door. Namjoon introduced you two and the small talk started. You zoned out few times but were snapped back in whenever your name was mentioned, “My wife is in the kitchen if you want to get away from all this business talk,” the older man gave you a gentle smile, offering you a chance to escape the boringness. Namjoon unwrapped his arm from your waist and pressed his hand on your lower back giving you a slight push and a nod.

The delicious scent flying through the air lead you to the right place. “Oh goodness, you must be Y/n,” the woman grinned at you. She looked up and down at you, taking in your appearance. Her face was wrinkly, showing her laugh lines and life experience. She wasn’t one of those uptight wives you’ve grown to get used to. She was a sweet old lady, reminding you of Suzie’s grandmother. Humorous, down to earth, nurturing person. Someone who you aspired to be when you were old but unfortunately in this business she had to be one of a kind.

“You look beautiful. I remember when I was able to wear dresses like that,” she told you with a plaintive look. Before you could answer the pot started to boil over, making her gasp, “I guess the food is ready,” she laughed. You helped to set the table, setting the cutlery and the bowls on their spots. This must’ve been the weirdest business dinner you’ve been to by far. She brought the pot over and called everyone to dinner. The atmosphere felt domestic yet so unfamiliar to you. Something that you’ve only felt outside of your own family and husband, at the countryside with your best friend and her parents. This wasn’t one of those dinners where a wrong look could get you socially outcasted. It was so homely, you could be yourself. It was something you could only wish for.

Namjoon was still on his robotically polite behavior, something he grew up with, something he was accustomed to. It was him, he couldn’t change and it’s okay. You didn’t notice but the lady was watching you two, analyzing you to pieces.

After the dinner you took upon yourself to carry the dishes back to the kitchen, you laughed with the old lady as you helped her by her side. It was like you felt her gaze burning a hole in your temple. You turned around to face and you cocked your head. “You look like a lovely couple,” she simply pointed out. You nodded, “Thank y-” her hand movement cut you off.

“But you’re not meant to be together. I see it. You want someone else. Everytime you look at him you wish he’s replaced with that someone. You might act like you’re in love but you aren’t. The gazes you share are cold and deserted. I can’t tell you what to do but I can offer you my advice,” she let you know, “I was once in your place. My first marriage was stone cold, I thought I had to stay in it. But my now-husband swooped me off my feet and asked me to come along with him. I did and it was the best decision of my life. I don’t regret it for a second. I’d do it again and again if I had to,” she held onto your shoulder and looked deep in your eyes. She poured it all on you. You were speechless. She was absolutely right. She was once in your place and could see all of the signs. No one else could.

“Darling are you ready to go?” Namjoon called for you with a sugary tone. You looked at the older lady in confusion. Your mouth opened and closed few times but no words found their way out. Namjoon peeked his head in the kitchen, “Ready?” he asked you, holding his hand out for you to take it. Your heart felt empty but you took his hand, and thanked the sweet woman for everything.

The drive home was silent but not dense. Your eyes were set on the bright moon making its appearance in the dark blue sky while Namjoon talked about his conversation with the man. You gave him simple answers, not really listening what he said. As he pulled into the driveway you snapped back to reality, “He was pretty old why hasn’t he retired yet?”.

Turning off the car Namjoon looked at you and pondered for a minute, “I’m not sure. Maybe he likes it? He hasn’t overworked himself though. He has taken things slowly, putting his family first,” he nodded approving his answer, “But the wealth he has now, I had when I was 19,” he laughed. His last sentence stabbed you through the heart. You truly had different goals in life. Though you’ve always had money you didn’t find it important. You’d rather live modestly with people you loved and cared for, people who you would sacrifice everything for. But you live like money is the reason for life. Nothing else, nothing more.

Groaning, you kicked the painful high heels off your feet, and placed them in your walk in closet. Namjoon came in the room after you, unzipped your dress, and helped you take off, his eyes never leaving yours. You held his gaze, feeling your pulse getting faster and faster. You almost anticipated a kiss from him when his eyes travelled to your lips. Instead he just handed you the dress with a dimply smile. You thought nothing of it and set it on the rack before going to wash yourself up for bed.

Namjoon was already sleeping when you crashed next to him. You stretched your legs for a final time before closing your eyes. In slight sleep you felt an arm flung across your body, something that he sometimes did when he was sleeping, but this time was different. He pulled you closer, his other hand coming to grab your breast. Your eyes snapped open, and you froze. He brought the tent in his pants closer to your behind, beginning to rub himself on you. He brushed your hair behind your ear and whispered, “You like it don’t you?” He sounded so cocky and full off himself, it almost made you gag. “What the fuck Namjoon?!” You all but yelled at him. He had you in his grip but manage to you ripped yourself out of it, semi accidently kicking his leg while getting out of the bed. “The fuck do you think you’re doing?!” you threw your arms in the air, eyebrows almost meeting together from the frown you had. “You wanted to fuck didn’t you?” he said with a harsh tone, “You’ve been so nice to me, so obviously you wanted some.”

“WHAT!” you screeched, “You can’t be serious.” You shook your head in disbelief. “You were nice to me for the first time in YEARS. So obviously I’ll be kind to you too. I already hate living here so I tried to make my life less like hell! It’s bad enough to live with a man that doesn’t love me but to live with someone who is constantly rude to me is even worse!” Namjoon got out of the bed too, but he stood on the other side of the bed than you. He could’ve easily towered over you but decided to keep his distance this time. “I give you everything and you act like this? You’re such an ungrateful bitch!” He stood there for a minute before his realization, “It’s about love? How are you so naive?! Love has nothing to do with this, it never has.” he spat at you for no reason. You looked at him dumbfounded. What did he think? That wanting to fix the relationship between your husband was just a call for dicking down? “Unbelievable,” you stated. You had no words.

“You think he can give you want you want,” he mocked you in a deep voice, tone becoming more toxic as he spoke, “you’re the reason he is going to lose his job and money. You’re destroying his career and marriage, his future is going down the drain for you.” An ear-splitting sadistic grin found its place on his face. You’ve never seen your own husband this terrifying. Namjoon didn’t even have to say Jimin’s name, you immediately knew who he was talking about. Your face lost all color. What scared you the most wasn’t that he knew about your affair but that he took ruining Jimin’s life so lightly, he even smiled when just talking about his threats. “Who are you?” you whimpered, pulling on jeans and finding your phone. You hastily shoved your belongings in your pockets and ran downstairs You nearly slipped when he roared after you, “Go to your boy toy then, I don’t care! I gave him an ultimatum. He doesn’t love you, if he did he would’ve given me an answer already.”

With that you slammed the door shut, leaving the maniacs voice to echo alone.

A/n: Ideas, suggestions, requests, questions? Just inbox me!! Thank you so much for showing love to this series. It really motivates me to keep going

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Who We Were & Who We Are Now 5

Chapter 5

Characters: Forrest Bondurant x Tawny Barrett (OFC)

Word Count: 4600+

Summary: Tawny starts her job at the station. It brings up memories and feelings for both her and Forrest.

Warnings/Tags: Language. Gore? (Does a calf birth need a warning?)

A/N: Memories are in italics!

Positive feedback is MUCH appreciated! Reblogs, likes, asks and comments feed me to write more! Let me know if you’d like tagged in my work.

My Masterlist.

To say you were excited would be an understatement. So would saying you were thankful and relieved. Once again, the Bondurants being your secret saviors, giving you the means to care for Junior and yourself, and knowing you'd have someone with a reputation to protect you. You also weren't lying to yourself that getting to spend time with Forrest every day also made your heart swell and pitter patter for entirely different reasons.

It's like you timed it perfectly, he was unlocking the front door as you pull in.

"Looks like I brought the sun with me." you say with a pleasant soft smile, looking back down the road in the direction you'd come from, sun cresting over the mountains.

"Right on time Miss Tawny." he nods, his voice and grunt particularly deep in the morning.

"If nothing else, I am punctual." you shake your head and smile and raise your shoulders in support of his statement.

"You eat?" he asked with a subtle raise of his brow.

"Oh yeah, I got Junior up and fed and out doin' chores already." you say proudly, smoothing out your navy dress.

He nods and purses his lips in approval.

"I mean he'll prob take a nap while I'm out but long as he gets it done, I'll let him think he's gettin' one over on me." you laugh and make it to the top of the stairs next to him.

This gets a pulled back corner of his mouth in amusement from him, meeting your eyes so you know he means you to see it. Seems you already understood how to handle teenagers. He thought it was pretty damn impressive.

"More importantly have you eaten?" you say, shaking your chin up at him, a single fingertip gently touching his chest in punctuation. His eyes move to it, then back to yours, a smirk clear in them.

"MmmHmm." his eyes shift away, smirk still hanging on hips lips.

"Well then let's get started, shall we?" you say, putting your hands on your hips.

He nods and grunts, you follow him around the station.

You first walk around the property, and it's like stepping into a memory. The barn's still there, now another storage building, more cars than there were, but the place still felt the same. Maybe it was because you were with Forrest again.

He pushes back the door of the barn, motioning you to go on in, holding open the door with the same old brick you used to, it makes you smile. He explains what and where the vegetables and food are kept in, grunting and touching and lightly kicking wooden barrels that sat amongst the bales and farm equipment. Saddles and bridles, tools and leather hang and rest among the huge wooden posts and dusty rafters of the interior of the barn.

You turn and sit on a grouping of hay bales, your hands running lightly over the hay humming to yourself, an amused look on your face. Your expression warms him from the inside out. He knew you were thinking about those nights in the barn reading. He swallows and stands in wait, hands in his pockets, letting you have a moment. He hadn't seen your face this happy since you'd been back and he wasn't about to cut it short.

You thought about the late nights reading in this same spot, but that thought had quickly passed, looking over to a dairy cow in a stall, wasn't the same cow, but the memory makes your cheeks flush as you look over Forrest's masculine frame, simply waiting on you to move forward.

Now knowing what you did about mutations and deformities and why they happen, the memory no longer held any fear for you, but you do remember what happened afterward. ------ You knew Daisy was going to give birth any day now. So you kept going in the barn and checking on her throughout the day, the poor dear seemed distressed, so you stroked and cooed her swollen sides, hoping to ease any of the sweet beasts pain. You'd done all you could, going off to finish your work, the Bondurant parents weren't home and you weren't real sure where the boys were, but you had things to do.

When you come back, she's on her side, mooing and groaning, straining and pushing. You rush over, grabbing the heavy duty apron and tying it around your neck and waist. You slide on your gloves and grab a blanket off the gate. You shush her, the gesture only helping you as you reach in to check how she's coming along.

"Shit." you curse, shaking your head. The calf was breeched. Normally, you'd call for Mr. Bondurant for these sorts of things but you couldn't in this particular situation so you sit and wait, elbows on your bent knees, chewing your cheek and trying to figure out how you were going to get this calf out on your own. You knew if you let this go on too long it'd end very badly and you didn't know how long it had gone on already as you'd been out in the garden for hours. You hop up to grab the straps and chains, pushing over a heavy crate to rest your foot against to try to pull this baby out.

And you try. You try your damnedest. You've got the feet just out, strapping them up like you'd seen done before, you strain and groan just as much as poor Daisy does, and if you don't get this calf out soon you're gonna lose them both and you wouldn't want to be the reason the Bondurants lost their milk supply, and the calf that was supposed to double that eventually. You shout in anger, breath heaving and sweat making your hair stick to your face.

You give it another go, and you get maybe another inch along. You reach back into the cow, and you freeze.

"That ain't right." you whisper to yourself, your eyes going wide and your heart racing. You'd felt a breeched calf before and this wasn't that. You'd swear there were extra parts or something in there. You don't mean to but it makes you panic.

You let out a scared high pitched sound, trying to pull again and this time you scream from the effort.

He's rounding the house when he hears your scream. Dropping the crate he was carrying and running as fast as he could to the sound.

"TAWNY?!" you hear Forrest shout.

"FORREST! HELP ME!" you scream back.

He barrels into the barn, tripping and almost falling as he darts towards you.

"Something ain't right here, Forrest!" you say, your face pale and your voice scared.

He's trying to catch his breath, hands on his knees and bent over.

"Tawny, she's just breeched." he pants.

"Look." you bite, his eyebrows raise high on his face. "I know what a breeched calf feels like and this ain't that." you say with absolute certainty that he buys into fully. He raises and moves to inspect himself, grabbing the other gloves.

"Shit." he says softly, face looking much the same as yours did.

"See! I told you! Somethin' ain't right!" your voice now quieter but even more insistent.

"Sure as hell isn't." he says, brow furrowing and eyes darting around the barn. "Get these gloves off," he barks, yanking the long hard material down and off your hands. "Get the chain, I'll tighten this and we're gonna have to fuckin' pull." he orders.

He squats, foot against a load-bearing beam, you're on your feet, using your body weight to pull, arms overlapped and in total tandem without even meaning to. You both shout and groan and gasp, pulling with all your might. And a haunting sound you'll never forget, a scream from poor Daisy, when the calf, if that's what you could call it, comes out suddenly. You both fall backward, you on top of him, your back to his chest, his back hitting against a stack of crates with a crack.

When you see what you've pulled out your eyes grow to the size of saucers, your mouth drop open, lip trembling in fear. It was completely deformed. Half limbs growing from places they weren't supposed to and a partially inside out body, something you thought might only exist in hell. You gasp and turn immediately towards Forrest, your breathing still heaving, you stare at his chest, twisted in his lap.

"What in God's name is that Forrest?" you whisper, eventually meeting his eyes, but his were the same as yours, full of questions and fear.  

He gulps in response. In his shock he acts without thinking as he moves to protect you, arms pulling you close as you shake. "I don't reckon God had anything to do with this." he rasps out. "That's...I ain't never seen that before." he shakes his head back and forth slowly, eventually he can pull his eyes away from the bad omen and to you. "Are you alright?" he asks, his hand moving to push your hair from your face, moving it towards him.

"Is that my fault? Did I do something wrong? Oh God your daddy's gonna kill me." you whimper out, tears threatening to stream from your wild eyes. He can feel your breathing threatening to move too quickly and he takes your face in his hands.

"This ain't your fault, you hear? You didn't do this." he says, faces inches from yours.

"But I...I was the one that started pullin' I..." your lips shake and more tears fall, and he shushes you again.

"This ain't on you Tawny." he whispers. "Stop cryin'," he says with no demand to his tone, just a soft whisper. You try to end the tension in your body, you gulp and move your eyes back to his. "Please," he sounds desperate and it doesn't go unnoticed to you. You take in a shaky exhale, and rest your chest against his. "I can't stand seein' you cry." he barely gets the words loud enough for you to hear. You're hit with the weight of them.

How many times had he seen you cry? You didn't even know.

Your lashes flutter and you take a deep shaky exhale through pouted lips as he mirrors the action to support it.

"That's my girl, shhh. Ain't no reason to be scared." he says, using his thumbs to wipe away your tears from your flushed face.

"Forrest I-" he feels that tremor in your voice and stops you.

"Shhh."  he shakes his head as his lips pursed. "I ain't gonna let nothin' happen to ya, Tawny. Not never..." you gulp noisly and your eyes move to his pursed lips, far too close to yours. With the mix of teenage hormones, feelings unspoken and the adrenaline from fear and exertion his eyes move down to your mouth as you lick your lips, little puffs of breath escaping in tiny nervous moans. You consider it for just a moment. What would it be like to kiss a boy? What would it be like to kiss him? What would happen if you did?

You wanted to. In your naivety and inexperience, you don't know that he wants desperately to kiss you. But as fate decided, it was not the time for you to kiss Forrest Bondurant. As your head shoots to the side, Howard stomping into the barn after hearing all the commotion, effectively sending you back into a panicked state as you jumped up and darted to him, everything that had happened spilling out.

Forrest exhales loudly, hanging his head for his lack of courage to kiss you. He closes his eyes, back of his head hitting the crate behind him over and over in a reluctant punishment for squandering an opportunity like that. ----- "You remember that demon calf we pulled out together?" you eye narrowed as they move from the cow to him.

If you'd been any closer, and if the streams of sunlight coming through the cracks of the walls of the barn had lit him just right, you would've seen the tiniest of blush come to his face. He clears his throat. A grunt and a nod.

"I remember years later... readin' about birth defects and what not for school..." the corner of your mouth pulls back in recollection of a fond memory. "And finally realizin' what happened in a scientific way..." you shake your head at yourself. "Can't believe some of the wild speculatin' we did as to what happened. Just one simple mistake while it was formin'....can cause all that mess." you shrug and sigh. "Wish I would've known that then." you let out a huff of laugh and standing, dusting off the back of your dress. "Could've saved myself quite a few nightmares." your eyebrows raise and you frown just slightly.

"Old lady Wallace came 'round once word got out about it. Called it a bad omen." he says nodding, eyes on the ground. It wasn't too long after that day that you left. Then him and his parents got sick, then both his parents died. He wasn't typically inclined to believe such things, not now anyway, but he'd be damned if it wasn't one hell of a coincidence.

"I had that thought myself." your frown fades with your nod, you put your hands on your hips as you head back towards the reinforced doorway. You stop and wait for him as he shuts the door back. "Kind've a self-fulfilling prophecy though when you believe that sorta thing, huh?" you turn just your head to follow him as he walked past you.

He nods, his lips pressed in agreement. "That's a right smart way to put it."

"Ain't inclined to think that way much anymore now though." you muse, looking up at the sky while you follow him to the back door of the station. "No use in havin' fear about things you can't understand." you say thoughtfully, shrugging before you clasp your hands together in front of you.

God, he'd missed hearing you pour out all those odd thoughts in your head. And now they were eloquent and informed too. No longer just musing of a girl but wisdom from a woman. He lets a warm expression settle over his face since he was walking ahead of you. He hadn't realized just how much he'd missed you. But then again, he hadn't really let himself think about it.

"What about things you do understand?" he retorts, wanting to hear you elaborate.

"Well, there ain't much that scares me nowadays." He hoped that was true. For both of your sake's.

"I've seen you scream over a moth gettin' caught in your hair before." the corner of his mouth pulling back, looking down at you as you pass him to walk into the station.

You stop, narrowed eyes, bright and playfully glaring at him from under your brow. "Yeah and I was just 8 years old." you let out another eye crinkling laugh. "You're still a smart ass I see." you give him a wicked grin, whispering and leaning in closer.

He shrugs his face and shoulders in acknowledgment.

"Can't believe you remember that!" you say with a loud laugh as you sway into the station.

He pulls the door shut behind him, walking down the short hallway and you're already behind the counter, having found an apron and tying it behind your back.

"Now I ain't braggin' but...I do have a good memory."

"Ya ain't gotta be modest on my account, Forrest." your posture straightens. "Speaking of, what should I call you while I'm working? I think I can manage to call ya boss or...Mr. Bondurant or somethin' if that's what ya'd prefer." your face is light and agreeable.

"Forrest's fine, Tawny, don't be silly."

"You got it boss." you say with a firm nod and a grin.

A smile appears on the corners of his lips at you, he grunts and looks away.

"How do ya like your coffee Forrest? I'll get some goin' first then I'll work on throwin' together a stew or somethin'. That alright?" you tilt your head as you fill the coffee pot.

"Black." he nods and blinks. "And sounds like you're back at home already here." he says, tipping his hat to you taking a step back.

"The familiarity doesn't hurt. " you shake your head with a small smile.

"Well I'm gonna be in the office," he says slowly, hand moving towards the open half glass door to the far side of the open space.

"If I get stuck on anything, you mind if I ask ya about it or you want not to be bothered?" your chin moves to your chest. Although he didn't feel it was needed between the two of you, he appreciated your thoughtfulness as to respecting the role of employee and employer.

"Ya ain't gonna bother me by askin' me questions 'bout your work." he meets your eyes, yours wide and his focused. "If I don't need bothered, I'll let ya know beforehand." he gives you a solid nod and you mirror the gesture.

"I'll bring ya coffe in in just a minute." you say as you turn after he does, watching the water start to trickle down.

He grunts and nods, raising a hand in acknowledgment before he saunters his way into the office. ----- "Mornin' Forrest!" you lilt out just like you have every day so far. And damned if the sound of you callin' his name all sweet wasn't the best part about his morning now. And just as every day since your first, you come in with an armful of wildflowers.

"I tried to get a bunch of yellow one's today," you announce proudly, beaming over the armful of blooms. "I thought they'd look really pretty with the blue walls." you say looking into the station before he pulls the door open for you.

"I leave the decoratin' to you, Miss Tawny." he gruffs out and nods. Since you'd started working there, coming in early and leaving late was something you'd done without one complaint. He remembers you not wanting to go home when you were younger, and with what he was assuming the source of that want being cold and dead in the ground, he wasn't sure what was motivating this behavior. Perhaps you really just were as hard of a worker as you always had been.

You had swept, dusted and scrubbed every bit of that place down since you'd been there. It looked like it'd been repainted after you'd gotten done with it. Even the advertisement tins and porcelains outside seemed to glean a little brighter since you'd become a part of the essential functioning of the place.

Howard had certainly loved having you around. He'd been in a better mood the past week than he had in months. He finally had someone to tell all his old glory days stories to that hadn't heard them so much already that they just shut him down before he even got to the good parts. Forrest sat at the table in the back corner a lot. You'd see him with his thinking face on, rough fingertips tapping against the ledger, counting to himself. You kept yourself busy, or rather the customers and maintenance of the place did. You didn't get a lot of chances to catch glances at Forrest, but he had been catching them of you. He'd watch you genuinely laugh at the stories Howard would tell you,  wrinkling your nose and swatting at the air in front of him when he'd get a bit too suggestive, a little too much wiggling of the eyebrows at you. You were certainly a lot more charming than you had been back then, he found it interesting as you wielded a certain power over folks it seemed. An ease to your words and actions now, all confident and sure of yourself. 

The customer's sure loved you. But most were all men so how could they not. You were the picture of perfection in your duties. You'd tend to the old-timers who just sat and drank and played cards all day. Same table, same old men, some old stories every day. They liked having you wait on them a little too much. He'd had to give them the old grunt and glare a few times when he'd hear the conversation turn to "If I were a younger man..." a few times.

You could tone down your accent and mix a real drink for any city folk that found their way in. You'd play it up for the old gosspin' women who liked to ask you one too many personal questions, playing coy and bashful to deter them. You'd brought a new life into the place, a feminine touch that it had sorely needed. And whether he wanted to fully admit it to himself, he needed that in his life too. -- "Here ya go, hun." you say softly, one hand on his shoulder, the other handing him a mug of steaming coffee, untucking the newspaper from under your arm and placing it on the small table next to his chair outside.

As usual, a deep grunt and nod in response.

"You mind if I have a cup out here with ya before I get started today?" you ask. Your voice sounds tired this morning. He'd noticed the change gradually, starting off like a spark plug at first and just slowly, maybe not noticeable to anyone who wasn't studying your behavior, started to get a bit lower every morning of that first week.

"No, go 'head." he says reaching and lifting a small wooden chair and sitting it on the other side of the table.

"Thanks, Forrest." you yawn before you take a sip of your drink.

"I hope you don't mind me askin' ya a personal question, Tawny." you move your face to meet his, eyes open to the invitation.

"No, I don't mind at all." you say softly.

"You...been sleepin' alright?" he asks, eyes narrowing and staying on yours.

Your eyelashes flutter, of course, he'd noticed. Never could hide anything from him, could you? "I.." you begin then stop, looking down at the rough wooden spool on its side that served as a table. You didn't know how to tell him that you felt like a child again when you left there and went home. That sleeping in the room was making you feel crazy. You'd been drinking to help yourself fall asleep at night, the memories just kept creeping into your thoughts. You were ashamed they were still influencing you. You had thought after Cliff died maybe you'd be at peace with the abuse of your childhood but that had been apparently rather stupid of you to think. "I have had trouble sleepin'...yeah." you let out a long sigh.

"I ain't workin' ya too hard or nothin' am I?" the sincerity in his voice warms your heart and he sees the subtle smile appear before you swing your tired eyes up to his.

"No you're not." you weakly shake your head. "I love workin' here. I'd stay here all the time if I could." the corner of your mouth raises before you take another drink.

"That sounds awful familiar Tawny." his voice is lower, almost scolding, but you aren't sure he means it to be. You think he just wants you to know he's serious.

"It feels awfully familiar too." you say, your face falling, looking into your blue and white speckled mug like it held any answers.

"Forgive me if I'm speakin' out of turn but, I know I never asked you 'bout nothin' that went on a home, because it weren't my business. Hell, I guess it still ain't now but...now's different." he pauses. You nod and it catches him off guard. "But it's just you and Junior there now. There ain't nothin'..." he leans in closer to get your attention. "Ya'll ain't havin' no trouble out there or nothin' are ya?" his voice is low again.

Oh your great protector, you swoon to yourself. You let the smile you keep for him show in a shadow of its usual self on your face.

"Nobody is givin' me any trouble, Forrest." you take another sip. "And what fool would with you lookin' after me?" the smile blooms more, and he's so thankful for its full appearance for his sake. --- Instead of his usual morning, he'd been a bit busy today. He'd been busy the night before too, taking care of some unsavory business. So yeah, he was tired and more than a little cranky. What he hadn't counted on was you picking up on it so easily.

"Here ya go, hun." you softly, a big plate of eggs, bacon, toast, and beans is laid in front of him.

His eyes swung up to yours.

"Put that book away before you go cross-eyed and eat somethin' please." you say with assertiveness but not dominance. "You ain't the only one that can tell when one of us ain't slept." you whisper. "You need to eat."

You slide another plate in front of Howard. "Bless you sweetheart." he purrs. You move to stand between them, a hand on each shoulder.

"Ain't nothin'. I figure takin' care of you boys is as much my job as takin' care of the station." you say with no sarcasm, you meant that. "We got anything I should know about on the agenda today?" you inquire sweetly, moving your face to Forrest who was finally sliding the plate in front of him and grabbing a fork.

"Nothing you should know about." he gruffs out.

You rub Forrest back for just a few seconds, a quick back and forth to try to soothe the beast. "Boy you are cranky today aren't you?" you huff out a laugh that Howard mirrors. "Maybe you need to go have a little cat nap at some point today, dear." you say with the same sweet and genuine tone, shaking your head as you move back to the counter.

"She's a real peach, ain't she?" Howard says, stuffing a sausage link into his mouth.

"Mmm." Forrest responds, tearing apart his toast and busting the yolk of his over easy eggs. Exactly how he liked them.

"Sure as hell can cook." he grumbles out between bites.

A grunt and a nod. Another bite of toast as he kept his eyes on the plate.

"And take care of your grumpy ass." he narrows his eyes at his younger brother who returns the expression, another grunt, this time of warning.

"You ain't gonna sit here, and lie to me about how much better this place is with her here, are ya? Hell, I ain't even seen you groan at no one since she's shown back up." Howard always thought Forrest had been sweet on you when ya'll were kids, but he'd never admitted it. Least not to him anyway.

He keeps the same look of warning and groans at Howard.

"Alright smart ass." he rolls his eyes. "But you gotta admit...it feels right...her being here don't it? That ain't just me? Everyone that comes in here seems to like her, that's for sure. Certainly the prettiest thing in here." he says with a quiet huff of a laugh.

"It's like she never shoulda left in the first place." he finally gruffs out.

Howard can hear the bitterness in his brother's voice. A closed mouth smile grows across Howard's face.

"There ya are brother. First steps admittin' there's a problem, ain't it?" he says, giving his arm a solid thud of a smack to be supportive of him at least acknowledging, and finally after all these years, that he thought you should've stayed.

Chapter 6

@hardygal69 @jaegeeeeer @parlezvoustomhardy @pootle @negansdirtygirl22 @vale0413 @divadinag

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💖Let's play a game! Choose some mutuals and tell me who you think they're most like in NCT personality-wise!💖

this is a novella!!! i apologize hope nobody actually has to read this..thank you ill be hosting book signings soon

taeil - @1aeyong omg alex seems wise above her years and i think of her like my mom even though im older than her FLKEJKLF its bc she does so much for us thank you alex for everything

johnny - @chittaphuon omg again maybe its bc youre one of the only people i know thats older than me but talking to you feels like a warm hug LFMAO you have a really comforting aura around you and you make the best posts too 

taeyong - @mvpgyu bryn works SO hard and never gives up and honestly acts like my mom sometimes too LMAO but she has the biggest heart in the world and will always check in on you to make sure you get so much love and youre doing okay so i really appreciate that so much:))

yuta - @babyjungwoo omg two demons lol hazel is really funny and wild to talk to but also is really protective of her friends and can get really emotional on you lmfao i can already see her calling me out for this bc shes not afraid to start a fight with me i love you 

kun - @jaehyun-a the nicest and sweetest person on this website is the nicest and sweetest person in nct and kun hasnt even officially debuted yet but i know hes the other love of my life after jary. capable of putting out a fire with her bare hands definitely! jaehyun is nothing without her

doyoung - @ilovnct knows exactly what to say or what reaction meme to put on a post. also doyoung is super smart and probably created every meme that laura knows. also if you ever thought about fighting laura you would probably lose just like doyoung would fight his fansites in a wwe smackdown

ten - @1aeil the funniest sense of humor ever but also wildly smart? we’re all wondering how ten got that far in nct life cooking challenge but myeon is like legit. the smartest and wisest person here with her godly text posts. multitalented in every single way 

jaehyun - @renjunhuang another multitalented queen she edits she makes funny text posts shes got the best heart in the world…i know thats giving jaehyun too much credit but she really will always be there for you just like jaehyun is like in almost every unit 

winwin - @4uta sasha is also super smart and will school you but is not highkey about it at all. also when she shitposts she snaps and i didnt even see it at first but now im like oh wow and shes underratedly funny everyone. seriously go reblog something from her right now

jungwoo - @taeyongshi LMAO you both have the kindest heart and such genuinely sweet people but also really funny without even trying..you also have a way of drawing people to you and i think its the amazing aura and vibes you give off!! i was kind of intimidated by you at first too but now youre like my other half 

lucas - @hey-uta UMMM lucas always has the biggest smile with his big mouth on his small face and thats how i am when i think about you EJFLKAJLFK your tag yesterday had me dying and also i cant believe its taken me this long to realize youre actually my long lost directionator cousin 🤠✊im so glad i can cry about this with you 

mark - @neocity literally THE most talented person in our fandom ive seen alot of great edits and graphics but may is like. the alpha she has more talent in one finger than i do in my entire body and should replace every sm graphics employee BUT WE KNOW THIS! and we know mark is also exceptionally talented being in literally almost every nct song ever created 

renjun - @nalseol omg melly is so sweet and funny but will also like choke you on the spot probably LMFAO we love duality and chaos here…says the FUNNIEST shit ever appreciate her poetry also has the best face ever so yeah these two are identical 

jeno - @haechnn always there for people i swear she likes every single post i make regardless of how stupid i sound so thank you so much emmie:( jeno is the only dreamie i trust with my life seriously the rest of them are demonic and thats how i feel about you (an angel) blessing us here we need you so thank you

haechan - @xuxies omg ivie makes the funniest posts ever and i never expect them but they’re hilarious..same with hyuck hes really unpredictable but in the best way so THANK YOU for the laughs truly you manage to surprise me all the time but you’re a true comedian 

jaemin - @jenohyuns i LOVE YOU and your enthusiasm to posts like you just have such good energy about you?? idk how to describe it but i really really appreciate you and your positivity!! jaemin also gives me really warm vibes too 

chenle - @1ongride ok..these two are wildly funny beyond their years…like i was not that funny when i was jes’ age it took real growth to get to where i am now and swear to god im kind of scared what kind of talent these two will bring to us in like a year or so stay tuned!! 

jisung - @johnctzen talks alot and is good at everything…seems quiet but im afraid jia may one day run the world we live in…shes also really funny without trying and the dark aes just makes you seem threatening even though we all know youre not…love you jiajia 💖💖

[wordsinwinters]

Then Again P12  Peter Parker x Reader

Author’s Note:

Hello, everyone! 

First: Thank you so much to everyone who’s reblogged this fic, commented on it, and sent me such lovely messages! It means so much more than I can ever say 🌷🌷🌷

Second: I’m almost at 300 followers! Thank you so much to everyone following this blog, whether you’ve been here since Part 1 or only yesterday :) You guys are wonderful and I love you 💞💞💞

Third: Enormous thank you to the absolutely wonderful people who helped me with this chapter! Of course, @fanboyswhereare-you, my incredible baeta who prevented this chapter from collapsing in on itself (and constantly puts up with me); @hi-mishamigos who listened to all of my rambling (which was a lot) and calmed me down; @beardedsteveslut who literally binged this entire series to help me with less than two pages and then gave me tons of pitch-perfect advice while I ran a thousand ideas past her; and @rainyreplays who, I believe is an actual angel, wrote out a full analysis of this fic and then explained how to balance everything I wanted this chapter to say with everything I had built up for the last 40 pages. Thank all of you to the moon and to the sun and back to earth again. You guys are the best. 💛💛💛

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 13, Part 14

Without further ado, a testament to my favorite trope:

Then Again, Part 12:

(Word count: 1,439)

The whole idea of being honest seems like a bad one. I’ve been telling Aunt May and Ned this since they tried to push it on me. The thought of following their advice is uncomfortable enough that I want to resist it - and MJ’s idea - a smidge (minimum).

I’ll just wear one of Y/N’s shirts. She and MJ wear each other’s clothes all the time.

Back in the bathroom, I brush my teeth, pop in my retainers, and open her bag. Under a pair of jeans is a plain black t-shirt. Perfect. I have to yank the collar down to get my head through… and it is definitely tight… but it’s better than nothing.

What has my time in the suit trained me for, if I can’t wear a girl’s shirt?

I look in the mirror. Shit. The collar has turned my hair into a mess and underneath, it’s like I’ve tried on a child’s shirt. This is ridiculous.

As I attempt to maneuver my arm out of the left shoulder sleeve, I tug a bit too forcefully and hear a tear, suddenly losing balance and hitting the wall with the entire right side of my body. Shit. There’s a clear crack in the yellow paint. My head stings. I scramble to my feet and try again.

It takes what feels like ten minutes to get the shirt off without ripping it. I fold it and put it back. Never again.

I turn off the bathroom light and pad through the room as quietly as I can. I open the closet door near the window and reach for the blankets stored on the top shelf. Nothing. I check again with the light of my phone. Nothing at all. I’m going to strangle Ned and MJ tomorrow. What were they thinking? It’s way too cold for this.

I’ll still sleep on the floor, I decide. I’ll use my towel as a blanket… once it’s dry.

My heart is pounding. It’s chilly and the only blanket in the room is attached to Y/N, on the bed.

What would Aunt May say?

For once, I don’t know. I mean, Y/N and I just had a fight that I haven’t had the chance to make right yet. The competition is tomorrow. It’s late and she’s asleep. The situation between us is… stalled.

What’s the logical thing to do?

Get in the bed. Shift some of the blanket over. Get warm while the towel gets dry. Get out of the bed. Sleep on the floor with the towel.

It’s not the best plan, but I like it more than I need to.

Gingerly, I tiptoe to the bed and climb in. I stay as still as possible while I drag a corner of the comforter toward myself. It’s so warm. For the sake of body heat, I inch a smidge closer. I scrunch up part of the blanket to wrinkle a mini wall of fabric between us. That’s as much personal space as I can make, given the size of the bed. I’m so close that even if my senses weren’t hyped up, I’d be able to smell her hair across the pillow. God, I love her shampoo.

Dude, knock it off.

Like I’ve told myself a million times, I need to not make things so weird. At least she can’t hear my thoughts. Thank God.

I lie on my back and stare at the ceiling. Even though I wanted her to be awake when I got back, maybe this is better. There’s so much I have to say tomorrow, this extra time is probably for the best.

I turn my head toward her - or rather, the mountain of blanket with a face. I don’t come up with stupid scenarios about why we’re sleeping beside one another in a hotel bed or any other What If questions my brain is aching to invent. Instead, I go over all the shit she’s gone through this week because of me. I go over everything I need to own up to and everything I need to say to her in the morning. Maybe it’s selfish or pathetic, but I let myself hope that tonight was stupid and wrong and mostly my fault, but not irreparable. I imagine that forgiveness is on the table. That’s it. That’s all I have a right to consider anymore.

Maybe I can’t be with her the way I want to. Not now, maybe not ever. And yeah, it sucks. I mean, since the start, and I’m ready to admit now that it started way before October, it’s been so different with her. It’s almost terrifying. It’s not the same kind of crush I’ve had before, like with Liz or anybody else. I know her, I really know her and I care about her like crazy. And I think about her all the time, too.

But none of this matters. It’s not happening. I can’t be with her like that and it’s obvious now more than ever. The vital part is how I can be with her, and with Ned and MJ, almost every day for the foreseeable future. I can just enjoy her- their presence without any strings. If things only go back to normal, that’s enough. It has to be.

What if she really doesn’t forgive me, though? What if I’ve really crossed the last line this time?

The same heaviness is pressing into my chest like before, a pressure that reminds me of swimming too deep underwater.

I need to remember what Aunt May said. If anybody is willing to give second chances, it’s almost always her. Then again, which chance was I even on tonight? I’ve run through too many to count.

I close my eyes. God, I wish I could turn brain off.

Why didn’t I just talk to her when she came here earlier? It seems impossible that fewer than twelve hours ago she hugged me and I shrugged her off. I can’t believe I actually let myself think of her like I did, as if she would do any of those things or, more importantly, as if any of it was even my business to begin with.

I’m such an idiot. I should’ve -

A twisting sound snaps my eyes open.

Y/N starts moving beside me. She awkwardly shifts positions with slow and mechanical movements until she’s lying on her back, her arm thrown over her eyes.

The red light from the alarm clock allows me to just barely trace the faint outline of her hand a few inches from my face. It reminds me of the first time we met, a memory that would usually make me laugh, and of the fact that handshakes are our main form of physical contact. And that it’s not exactly as if we shake hands all that often. 

It suddenly reminds me of all the tiny distances and boundaries that exist within our friendship, the ones that keep us from being as close to each other as we are the Ned and MJ. Just the shadow of her hand reminds me of how badly I wish everything could be different.

None of this matters right now. Let it go.

I breathe out. Try to clear my head. I think of that counting exercise Mr. Stark told me about. One. Two. Three. Four. Four, three, two, one. One. Two. Three. Four. Four, three, two, one.

One thought refuses to stop though. The same one as all week.

Despite everything, Y/N is still the only person I want to be around right now, the only person I actually want to talk to about this stuff, the only person I know would listen and really, really understand it all. But then again, after everything, maybe not… even if I could tell her.

Fear and anxiety churn in my stomach.

For a split-second, I stop thinking and let myself do a stupid thing.

I reach out, slowly, and trace her fingers with my own. I’m about to take her hand in mine, just for a moment, before I think better of it. I draw my hand back to my chest, the sudden absence of her skin making my own fingers itch. 

God, why am I constantly so weird around her?

“I’m serious about what I said before,” I whisper, needing to confess one final time tonight. “I’m really, really sorry. Anything you decide is suitable, I’ll do whatever you want if it helps you forgive me. I swear, I never meant to be such a jerk and I’ll never act like that again. Please, just tell me what you want me to do.”

I exhale and push my palms into my eyes. I need to turn my brain off.

But then a warm hand touches my shoulder.

Y/N?

Part 13

Part 13 spoilers (since the next chapter isn’t for another week 😉)

Next Update: November 17

It will be a shorter chapter (only 2 pages), but I have a little guess that you guys may enjoy it anyway :)

Tag List: If you’d like to be tagged, reply to this post or send me a(n) ask/message! 

If you want to reblog this fic, but don’t want to reblog whole chapters (I know they’re rather long posts), you can find my short Then Again Masterlist in my bio 😉

As always, I apologize for the typos that are probably everywhere in this chapter.

Tagged: @jriles124 @avzuzu @5-seconds-of-sarcasmm @britdiandra @gotnotfeature @theconscientiouswriter @happysynonym @the-redthread @strangerwesley @i-love-superhero @livluvspiderboy @ohgloryy @nicunt @pxrrished @shugr12110629 @realitykilledtheteen @look-how-far-i-come @beardedsteveslut @abigail-1998 @thehanneloner @lionfart @tmrhollandkay @evanhansenisahufflepuff @tryn25 @slythergirlimagines @twentyjuanpancakes @peterparkerismybeing @littlekay15 @caitlyn-blackwell @hi-mishamigos @anxiousteengeek @twentychemicalpanics @profmmcgonagall @eversweet-imagines @tom-newsie-holland  @melonmochi

If I missed anyone, let me know! 

[authoressskr]

It Must Be Love?

Balthazar x Reader

Warnings: Language, Injury to Reader, Preludes to Sexytime

SHOUTOUT TO @murdochinthetardis for all the wonderful “dating __ would involve”, “enemies to lovers with ___ would involve”, and “being friends with __ would involve” cause I love making them extra sassy in the reblog tags. Also SHOUTOUT to Vee ( @nobodys-baby-now ) for encouraging the sassy Balthazar tags.

Note: Do NOT repost, copy and paste, post or share my works on any other platform without my EXPRESS PERMISSION. -+- REBLOGGING is fine! -+-

From the moment the angel had appeared at the Bunker, soaking wet and surly, he had rubbed you the wrong way. At first, you had tried to be as nice as possible to the angel, hoping he just had a snarky outer shell and that he would come around.

Time only seemed to make it worse.

Every little thing you did seemed to give him a reason to look down his nose at you.

The first time you actively noticed it was in Kentucky, on a ghoul hunt. You’d never come up against a ghoul before - you had only heard of them - and you hadn’t anticipated that it would move that fast. Cas was headed towards you when the ghoul sank its teeth into your arm. You had dropped your gun into your left hand and pull the trigger once it was pressed firmly against the ghoul’s head, biting down hard on your bottom lip to keep from screaming out at the pain. As it fell away after taking three direct shots and a healthy chunk of your arm with it, you felt a large hand haul you off the ground, out of the line of another rushing ghoul.

“Hell of a hunter. Turned herself into ghoul chow.” Balthazar snaps out, shoving you behind him towards Cas. It was all over minutes later, Cas healing your arm as Sam and Dean made sure all the ghouls were dead. Balthazar just raised a blonde eyebrow as you skulked to the Impala, angry with yourself. You were not going to let Balthazar get to you. You were going to let it roll off your back like water on a duck.

The eighth time, you were pinned to a wall by a witch nearly five months later, his meaty hand wrapped around your throat as he pressed a glass of orange liquid hard against your lips - hard enough you could feel the glass scrape against your teeth. Sam and Dean were tied up across the room, having been knocked out with some strange powder right after you three had entered the house, but the witch had left you conscious. “Something to play with,” he had muttered in your ear, making your stomach lurch.

One of those fat fingers trailed down your face before resuming its place at your throat once more, tightening when a small groan came from Dean.

“Your boyfriends are waking up, little hunter.” His foul breath fanned over your face, making you dry heave, which was the worst thing that could have happened. As you open your mouth to gag, he pours the orange liquid in your mouth, half of it spilling past and dribbling down your throat as his hand clamped down over your lips as Dean began snarling profanities at your captor, Sam throwing out his own threats as he rose to consciousness.

“Cas! Balthazar!” Sam bellowed, fighting at the rope restraints as the witch let you drop to the floor before turning at the sound of wings filled the room. You stumble and drag yourself over to Sam and Dean, your eyesight making you see double as you pull Dean’s spare knife from his boot. It takes you longer than you’d like to get the rope cut on him, handing him the knife with a heavy sigh to cut Sam loose.

“Fuck,” Sam’s big hands are reaching for you but suddenly you’re on hands and knees, heaving again as your body starts to shake uncontrollably. Tears are streaming from your eyes as he hauls you upright, only to have the witch fling Cas right at him, the two of them landing in a heap in the corner. You use the chair Dean had been tied up in to keep steady, blinking to try to clear your vision. Fuck. One eye was showing just black and white now as the other was showing you so many colors it was nearly nauseating. The two of them together with the double vision was making every task, hell, even just focusing a feat you weren’t too sure you were capable of right now.

“What do you see now pet? I made that up special for you!” The witch cackles as he moves towards you, Balthazar and Dean scrubbing hands over their faces frantically.

“You,” huff “Have terrible taste in men, darling.” Balthazar sasses, still rubbing his eyes. God, he’s such a dick.

You channel the stumbling towards Cas and his angel blade, your fingers wrapped firmly around the handle when the witch yanks on your shirt, jerking you to your feet as you turn in his grasp, plunging the blade as deep into his chest as you can. He crumples to the ground, taking your unsteady ass with him. By now the shaking has gotten worse and you don’t even have the strength to cry out as you hit the hardwood floor.

“Clear.” You groan out, mostly for Dean so he’s not going to attack you. You mutter a few choice swear words as you stumble to the kitchen, pulling out the biggest pan you can find as you practically vibrate as you wait while it fills with water.

As carefully as you can, you reenter the room, dipping the dishtowel into the warm water before wiping it as steady as you can across Dean’s face. You let him manage once you get the majority of it away from his eyes before turning to help Balthazar. Not that he deserves it.

Before you are even done with the first swipe, you hear “Scared, trapped, rabid animals are steadier than you are.” You grab the pan - so thoroughly done that the anger helps calm the shaking a little - and throw it at Balthazar’s face, watching in double-vision delight as he sputters then growls. Sam’s hand falls on your shoulder, tugging you away from the angel as Cas moves in to help his brother.

“I think that was pretty fucking steady, wouldn’t you say?” You reply sweetly before you feel Sam’s arm snake around your waist, hauling you out of the destroyed living room.

You didn’t see the angel for nearly three weeks after that incident.

Which was the most peaceful three weeks you’d had since the angel had shown up nearly ten months ago - promptly ending at 9:38 am.

You had just gotten out of the shower, enjoying the fact you got to sleep in after the rough ghost hunt just over the border, tossing yourself down onto the comfy couch that Sam and Dean had scrounged up from a lounge-like room somewhere. You wiggled down, finding a comfy position as you let your eyes flutter closed - still bone tired from the hunt and the various bruises that were scattered along your back and right side - totally oblivious to the angel hovering just an arm’s length away.

---

Dean, Sam, and Cas shot up at the sound of Y/N screaming, all three men barreling down the hallway towards the library. She’s standing there, drenched, little pieces of ice scattered around her feet. Her chest rising and falling slower now.

“I must say, you are the prettiest drowned rat I have ever beheld.” Balthazar nods with approval as he smiles, crossing his arms over his chest.

Dean eased closer in case he needed to intervene, with Cas mirroring his movements.

Y/N just took a deep breath and, giving Balthazar wide berth, headed back towards her room.

“She’s going to inflict grievous bodily injury on you, brother,” Cas commented, frowning at his sibling.

---

In the week that followed, you were convinced that Balthazar was trying to break you.

Removing all the blades from your razor and stealing all your long pants. Fine, that’s not so bad. If Dean wore shorts around the Bunker, so could you.

Replacing the material of your pillow with packing peanuts. That one irked you because you loved your pillow. You’d gone through three other pillows before committing to that one. But whatever - you did have those other three in your closet.

Stopping your phone from charging all the way - no matter how long you charged the damn thing for. Okay - *deep breath* - that’s fine. Sam has a couple spares in his room anyways.

But on the fifth day, when you went to put on your bra, only to realize that the underwires had both snapped. Upon digging through your drawers, you discover that every bra you owned had the underwire snapped. You pull on an older wireless bra you found buried at the bottom of the drawer, tugging on the too small garment before half-ass buttoning your dark blue long-sleeved shirt.

THIS WAS THE LAST FUCKING STRAW!

“BALTHAZAR!!” You scream, stalking from your bedroom as Dean sticks his head out from the kitchen before beginning to follow behind you at a brisk pace.

“Y/N...” Dean cautions as you stomp into the library, waving your favorite bra at the blonde angel.

“FIX. IT. NOW!” You snarl as Sam slides into the library’s archway with Cas appearing behind Balthazar.

“I knew I’d get you to scream my name.” He smirks, ignoring the fury painted on your face, his blue eyes darting down to take a long glance at your chest and exposed skin.

“Fix all my fucking bras, you asshole! One underwire snapping is unfortunate. Two snapping is weird - but EVERY. SINGLE. ONE?” You take a deep breath, well as much as the old, tight bra will allow. “That is some asshole angel shit!” His eyes briefly flicker back up to yours, smirking before rolling his eyes.

“There, darling. All fixed.”

“You have disliked me since day one! I don’t know what I fucking did to you, motherfucker, but I am done! It is one thing to mess with me - with my pillow, my razor, my phone and replacing all my lotion with tapioca pudding - but MY BRAS?! Do you know how expensive these are? Do you know the care it takes to maintain them? No!” You take a few steps forward and jab a finger into his chest. “I am so beyond done with this. I don’t deserve to be treated like this, Balthazar.” You tilt your head a little, staring him right in those baby blues, making sure he understands. “Look, I get that you were all raised pretty shitty. I get you’re disenchanted with a lot of humanity - besides your rampant addiction to booze and sex - but being a dick,” His eyebrows shoot up. “Isn’t funny and it isn’t endearing. In fact, it just makes me want to shoot you in your fucking foot with angel bullets.” There is complete silence at your tone, a frown forming before you head back to your room. “And stay away from my fucking underwear.”

---

You avoid Balthazar as much as possible in the next few days after that and, surprisingly, he doesn’t pull any more tricks or pranks.

When Jody calls that evening, it’s a relief. She’s having a little trouble pinpointing what the thing is that is skulking around three towns over and with Claire dealing with a cursed object somewhere near the Georgia-Florida border, she needed a little help.

“So, what do the bodies look like, Jody?”

“Scratched all to hell, look like they put up a fight, Dean, but...” Jody sighs, lowering her voice a little, “the chest was open, heart crushed and there is a lot of blood missing.”

“Lamia.” You and Sam mutter in tandem before you rise, quickly scanning through the closest bookshelf - ignoring the sound of wings directly behind you - before yanking two heavy books from the middle shelf.

“Okay, well bad new first or good news Jody?” You ask, setting the books down carefully by the phone on the table.

“Hell, might as well start with the bad.”

“Well, uh, it’ll be a woman - but they look human most of the time. When they don’t, well... it ain’t pretty. Lots of claws and a nasty roar. Two ways to kill it though; Silver knife blessed by a curate or priest.”

“Or, throw a mixture of rosemary and salt on the creature then light ‘em up.” Sam finishes, Balthazar moving closer behind you.

“And what’s the good news?”

“They’re pretty rare and tend to attack only men, so I guess the good news is that you’re a badass lady sheriff.” You offer lamely before Dean scoffs loudly. “Oh, what I meant to say was the good news is that the rosemary and salt route is easier, and lamias tend - at least according to Greek mythology - to favor young or unfaithful men.”

“Huh. Why unfaithful men?” Jody questioned, the sound of the sheriff’s station now added in the background.

“Mr. Zeus-I-Fuck-Everything knocked up a very beautiful Libyan queen. When Hera-Queen-Of-Misplaced-Anger-Bitchypants finds out, she, of course, blames the woman and kills her children by Zeus. This drives the queen to madness and she begins to devour other children. She becomes distorted from her horrendous acts and then starts crushing young men’s hearts and sucking their blood.”

“Sounds like a bad 80′s video.” The muffled sounds of the sheriff’s station grind to a halt as a heavy thud sounds over the phone.

“We’re loading up and heading out now, Jody,” Sam explains as Dean wanders out of the library. “We’ll see you in about 4, four and a half hours.”

“Alright. Drive safe.”

“Will do.” You nod to Sam before scooping up the books from the table, turning to head to your own room only to nearly run into the fair-haired angel. His hands shoot out to steady you before dropping quickly.

“Careful.” He smirks out, his eyes somehow softer, making your forehead wrinkle up slightly.

“Yeah.” You agree, shuffling around Balthazar and head to your room to pack up.

---

The pair of lamias easily tossed Jody, Sam, Dean and you around like ragdolls, while Cas and Balthazar attempted to get close enough to smite the damn things. Your latest blow had been softened by landing on Dean, so you shoved yourself upright and grabbed the shotgun with the modified salt rounds from where Sam had dropped it after his second airborne flight.

You get three shots fired into the lamia currently pinning Cas to the far wall before the second one is coming at you, claws drawn as it opens its wide jaws to scream.

But no sound comes out except a gurgle as a blinding white light pours out of its semi-human eyes and agape mouth. The other shrieks, tossing Cas through a nearby window and rushes towards Balthazar and Dean. You fire another two rounds before the pump action shotgun clicked empty, Jody aiming her own gun as it shrieks, making all the humans wince and shy away at the sound. Cas reappears, he and Balthazar hold it down so Cas can plunge his angel blade into the creature. You sigh, leaning against the peeling wallpaper of the old sitting room, watching as the two angels easily snap away from the bodies.

“Everyone good?” Dean inquires, clapping Sam on the shoulder.

“Yeah,” Sam affirms.

“I’ve been better,” Jody mutters, giving her head a shake to clear the slight still ringing noise echoing in her ears.

“Bruised but alright.” You give a nod to the Winchesters before all four of you file out of the musty room. Your following behind Dean when another roar screeches out, sending you flying into an old oak tree. “Fuck.” You groan out before a scream tears itself from your throat, the claws of the lamia digging hard into your side. And just as soon as it had appeared, it’s gone - Balthazar’s handsome face replacing the hideous gray one that had been staring hatefully at you.

“-- Be just fine, love - tattoo - stupid hunters --” You don’t catch all of what Balthazar says before you feel the tingle of grace warm your side and an arm snake around your back and under your knees before darkness sucks you under.

---

The first thing you can smell is bacon and then the underlying scent of Jody’s house. You force one eye open, before rolling to your side - letting your hand roam over where you knew you had been torn up. You roll onto your stomach, trying to figure out what Balthazar had been saying to you when you’d passed out.

“You up?” Dean’s voice sounds from the doorway, making you shove your face deeper into the pillow. “Come on.” He orders, moving into the room.

“Nnnnhhh.” Dean’s hand comes down sharply on your ass.

“Come on, kid. Breakfast.” You push the blankets back, sit upright and, prying your eyes open, peer down at your pajamas.

“Did you change my clothes?”

“Come on. I made you French toast.” He moves back to the door, gripping the frame before tipping his head to the left. You slide a hand over your face as you follow Dean.

“Hey!” Jody calls out cheerfully as she dishes up eggs, slipping down into the chair Sam holds out for you before giving your shoulder a hard squeeze. Dean plops down beside you, forking over three thick slices of French toast onto your plate as you yawn. “So, how do you feel?” Jody coaxes, taking a bite of bacon before passing Sam the orange juice.

“Mmhmm. Fine, I guess.” You finish pouring the syrup on your French toast, shoving a large piece in your mouth as the soft sound of fluttering fills the kitchen.

“I am glad you’re feeling better.” Cas’s deep voice rumbles out, a soft smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“Thank you, Cas.” You manage to say around your mouthful of breakfast, giving what Dean liked to teasingly call your “chipmunk cheeks” as you smiled. Balthazar says nothing, just watches the exchange with those baby blues flitting over you a few times in the span of a handful of seconds. Part of you was wondering what was going to come out of his mouth, shoving another piece of French toast into your mouth as you waited.

He pulled the chair next to Jody out, slipping into it and staring at you before rolling his eyes.

“No ‘thank you’ I see.” He mutters before pursing his lips and looking away.

“I honestly thought you’d have a smart-ass line or some mention of finally getting your hands on me.” You answer with a little shrug before chomping happily on a piece of bacon. Those sky-blue eyes bored into you, his jaw clenched tight. “But thank you, Balthazar.” You wait for a beat, finishing your bacon and letting him relax a smidge. “My heart will now go on.”

“Don’t you fucking -”

“Near.” You cut the rest of your breakfast up, taking a few quick bites of the scrambled eggs on your plate before softly breathing out the next word. “Far.”

“I am going to turn you over my knee, Y/N.”

“Wherever I am.”

“That’s it.” Balthazar snaps, knocking the chair over as he rises, his arm wrapping under your breasts and the both of you disappearing from the kitchen as Sam shouts your name. Balthazar pins you between the door (if the sudden jiggling of the door handle and shouts of your name were any indication) and his body, arms caging you in. “Darling, I’ve been exceedingly patient -”

“Patient? You’ve been an asshole since we met!” A deep voice sounds on the other side of the door then several pairs of footsteps recede.

“And I’ve been attempting to be nicer.”

“The last week or so has been nice?” You ask incredulously, eyebrows shooting up. He licks his lips, dropping his gaze to the floor before meeting your gaze once more - the softness from hours ago reappearing.

“I asked you to be careful.” You scrunch up your nose at the sudden change in demeanor and tone. “It was easy to smite the lamias but so much harder to see you injured.” He lifts his right hand, running his thumb along your jawline. What the actual fuck? “I have - made an effort - the last week or so, to be nicer. I brought you all the expensive sherry. No more tricks on you. Left those nice diamond earrings on your dresser. And healed your pretty rib tattoo.” You tilt your head to the side minutely, trying to process what the angel had said. “I’m supposed to protect you, love.”

“Then why did you act that way?” You hated the way your voice sounded, more sad than angry. “I tried to be extra nice to you. To make sure the boys weren’t total dicks to you. And how you treated... wait, are you drunk?”

“Mmhmm. I am a little tipsy, even for me.”

“Jesus.” Placing both hands on his chest you attempt to push him away, but he doesn’t move. Except to drop his face in the crook of your neck, his hand that had been cupping your cheek now slides into your hair.

“You smell wonderful.” He mumbles against your skin as he closes the space between your bodies. “I wanted to lie with you as you slept. To wrap my wings around you. Scent you.” A few soft kisses pressed along your throat sent chills down your spine. “My human to protect.” His lips brush against your jaw as your hands move to slide up his sides then down his back. You get a firm grip on his ass, his erection pressed against you as he captures your lips.

“Don’t think this suddenly abolishes everything you’ve done.” You pant out as Balthazar’s lips, and teeth, return to your neck.

“I am willing to work very hard to make amends, Y/N.” He promises before kissing you once more, rutting himself against you. He pulls away sharply, his hands sliding over your ass before grasping the backs of your thighs, signaling you to wrap your legs around his waist. Your suddenly naked back hits the bed, gasping as his weight settles atop you. “I am going to pound into your little human body until you pass out. Does that sound abolish-worthy?” You tangle your fingers in his short blonde hair, tugging his mouth down to yours.

“It’s a hell of a start, Balthazar.”

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