#man maybe i need a tag list for it so i might offer that later when i’m ready to post it

[faewoozi]

about i win... i was screaming omgggg can't wait for part 2 🤌🏻🤌🏻

I’m so glad anon!!! I’m super excited about it because yeah it’s shaping up to be something with both hoshi and woozi involved. This will be my second poly fic after my mingyu x vernon one and I’m kinda learning I enjoy writing them a ton ❤️❤️

[fuzzyclink]

Rules and Regulations

A self indulgent one-shot Ceo!Au fic to celebrate the launch of Keir and Cirrus's second chapters tomorrow!

Tags: Cirrus/Reader, degradation, unethical office relationship, abuse of power, power dynamics, spanking, glove kink, pain and bruising, bad BDSM etiquette, gender neutral reader, reader body not described.

Link to AO3 version

You had been so desperate to find a job in your new city that you hadn’t been especially picky. You’d moved here as a last option, relocating because of the world-renowned hospitals in this area. There was an experimental study opening soon that focused on your life-threatening condition, and you knew that it might be your only option. Certainly, the bemused expression of the so-called “experts” in your hometown had discouraged you from staying. Your condition didn't even have a WebMD page. So it hadn’t mattered to you much at the time that all your funds went into renting a moving truck, paying the deposit on an apartment, and boxing up all your belongings. You had arrived, penniless, and sought jobs as quickly as possible - applying to everything and anything that you could convince a recruiter you’d be good at. You just needed some income while you waited to hear back about whether you were eligible for the medical trial.

Applying to Crescent Consulting had been surprisingly easy. You’d uploaded your resume online, answered a few questions that MAYBE were some kind of personality test (the question “What does the full moon mean to you?” had definitely seemed a little strange at the time), and were offered an interview a few days later. 

You pressed down your nerves as you approached the company. You were dressed in your least-wrinkled interview clothes, pulled out of a cardboard box the night before. There hadn’t been time to unpack everything. The exterior of the building was grand. Silvery glass extended high above you, the blue sky reflecting mirror-like off of the eighty floors of windows. The interior matched the prestigious exterior. All around you were gleaming stone floors, elevators that smelled like new carpet, well-groomed and refined staff, and chandeliers that likely cost as much as your apartment. 

Crescent Consulting was on the third and fourth floors of the building. You speak to a receptionist near the entrance and she ushers you into a small, private office to the left of the door. You smile politely as the hiring manager seated inside looks over your resume, asking about your experience, your career goals, and previous successes and difficulties. Pretty standard stuff. The pay and benefits seem good too. You try to recall the information you’d read about the company, peering down at the job description you’d printed out and brought with you. 

“From what you’ve said, I think this company would be a good fit for me,” you say, trying to infuse your words with an air of confidence you didn’t really feel. “. . . but the job listing was a little sparse on details. Would you mind going over exactly what this position would entail?”

The routine atmosphere of the interview dissipates. The interviewer grows far more serious, fixing you with a stern look over the rim of their tortoiseshell glasses. 

“This position is essential to the success of our company. Crescent Consulting is directed by Mr. Cirrus. As our CEO, he leads us, guides us, and makes decisions that keep us at the forefront of consulting in this city. He’s an exceptionally talented man.” She regards you with her steely gaze as if you would dare challenge her statement. You nod at her meekly. 

She shifts in her seat. “But he’s also exceptionally busy. Too much of his time right now is taken up by scheduling things, answering emails, filing documents…we’ve all tried to help where we can, but eventually, it became clear that it was time we hired someone to do it full-time. So, that’s where you come in. The job position is to work as his assistant. He has exacting tastes, and expects the finest work.” 

You can practically see the job opening slipping away right before your eyes. The words spring from your lips.

“I assure you, I am someone who is deliberate, detailed, and focused. Crescent Consulting is my top choice and it would be an honour to assist Mr. Cirrus as he continues to lead such amazing work.”

She nods at that, relenting a little. “We’ll hire you for a probationary period. Let’s see how you do after a week on the job. If your work is satisfactory - and Cirrus takes a liking to you, we’ll offer you a full contract.”

After that, the first week goes by in a blur. You’d seen Cirrus’s emails and calendar plenty of times, but hadn’t even met him face to face. They gave you a cubicle in the corner of one of the floors and you toil away diligently, working your way down a seemingly endless list of tasks. The hiring manager was right - there was plenty to do. You spent your time reading the employee handbook, completing new employee training, learning about the different clients, trying to remember which employee names and titles, and archiving documents that hadn’t been looked at in years. You’ve just started working on a summary of consulting projects completed in 2017 when you feel a presence just over your shoulder. 

You jump in your chair as you spin around looking up to see a man looming over you. He’s tall and lanky, even taller from your current position. Long white hair slinks down over his shoulders, stopping near the waist of his suit. His accessories stand out against his dark clothes - a gold metal snake that encircles his finger, two chain bracelets that glimmer from beneath the cuffs of his sleeves, and thin hanging earrings. A tailored waistcoat highlights the way his broad torso narrows at the waist. The man’s arm rests casually against the wall of your cubicle, a thin pen between his fingers. He's undoubtedly handsome, imposingly so. You finish taking him in and meet his gaze, an amused smirk playing at the corners of his lips. 

Hurriedly, you introduce yourself. “I'm very sorry, I didn't notice you there! I’m a new hire, I’ve only been working here for week, I don't believe we've met?” 

Surely, you'd be able to remember someone who looks like THAT. 

“I thought it was about time I came to meet you,” he says politely, watching you through nearly translucent lashes. “You've already begun to prove yourself useful to me.” 

“Oh, are you… Cirrus? I'm really thankful for this opportunity, sir, the company seems great and everyone has gone out of their way to be helpful…” flustered, you’re immediately thrown off your game. So this is the man you work for. You had to admit, you'd assumed that Cirrus was some older, stodgy executive- someone thoroughly unattractive. It was shocking to be confronted unexpectedly with someone so… well, different!

“I'm glad to hear it. It's important that Crescent Consulting cultivates a welcoming environment towards newcomers.”  He spins the pen between his fingers a little, playing with the clip on it. “How are you finding the work so far?”

“It's been easy enough,. It seems like it's just a matter of checking over everything carefully and making sure that -”

His pen falls from his hand with a clink, sharp and startling against the waxed tile floor.

You bend in your chair, leaning to pick it up without a delay. You hand it to him, reaching up. It's hard to miss the way that his eyes flick from the pen in your hand to your face, but he takes it without comment. 

“Please, reach out if you have any questions. And ask the hiring manager you met with earlier for the full employment contract. You're a good fit. I look forward to our work together.”

And just like that, you're officially hired.  ------

The next Monday, you're at your desk for only a few moments before his shadow darkens your screen. Cirrus, the same outfit as you saw before - dark and stately in the fluorescent-lit office. His placid smile is at odds with the weight of his presence, a heavy, frozen thing that spills out through the weight of his shoulders and the cant of his head. It urges you to bow to him. Or grovel, your mind unhelpfully supplies. You end up half jumping out of your chair before settling back into it and dipping your head in acknowledgement. Embarrassing.

"I emailed you a list of tasks on Sunday for you to begin this week. We're entering into our busiest quarter of the year, so I'll be depending on your work. As always, please reach out to me if you have any questions." 

"I've already skimmed through it to familiarise myself with the tasks before I arrived today." You smile up at him a little. There's no need for him to worry about your accountability. You want to do well. Especially for him.

…But only because he’s your boss, of course.

He responds with a gentle nod towards you. "Good. Eager to get started, hmm?"

“I'll send you an update on what I've accomplished by the end of the day. Let me know if there's anything else I can do to meet your needs, sir." 

His hand falls onto your shoulder for only a moment, fixing you into your chair. His golden eyes dart towards yours, serious. “Let’s start with the list for now. Don’t want to exhaust you before the end of the second week.”

With that, he leaves, returning to his office. The firm press of his hand lingers on your shoulder. You raise your own hand to it, fingers ghosting over the sensation. Would meeting his needs really be exhausting? You’re determined to dispel any doubt he may hold about your capabilities.

As you adapt to your job, your list of duties starts to expand. The hiring manager wasn't kidding. Cirrus seems to be particular about everything. He cares about the scent of the soap in his bathroom (lavender), the way he takes his tea (no sugar, one and a half creamers), and the height of the window blinds in his office before he comes in each morning (lowered to the height of your knees, raised to shoulder level after lunch). Rather than resenting the numerous rules, you find joy in the structure they give your day. 

And he certainly is gracious. He’s kind to you, thanking you for the tasks you complete. Polite, yet reserved. Always controlled  and professional. His occasional praise makes you glow a little. It's proof that he notices and cares about the effort you put into your work. It's a little addictive. It drives you to be increasingly exacting, hoping to impress him. You find yourself wondering whether there’s something hidden behind that polished facade of his. He reminds you of a Greek statue. Beautiful, unyielding, and with a smile that never quite reaches his eyes. 

You find yourself staying late at the office recently, struggling to get everything done during the day. Eight hours doesn’t seem like a lot of time when it’s stretched over so many tasks. But Cirrus stays late too. Your coworkers file out of the office one by one until it’s just you and him in the building. The light shining through the frosted glass of his office door there to keep you company. You remember the first time you stayed late. You had sat in your mesh desk chair, bones stiff and weary from their long hours of inactivity. The sound of his office door opening had been a welcomed interruption. Cirrus wore his coat, warm wool fitted closely to his body, and was in the process of pulling on leather gloves. He hesitated on his path out the door, clearly surprised to see you.  

“I hadn’t realised you were still here,” he had said, coming around to your desk. 

“Oh, I’ll be heading home soon, sir. Just finished summarising the documents I received this afternoon so you can look them over tomorrow before your morning meetings.”

“Such a devoted employee.”

His smooth, rich voice sent shivers down your spine. You laughed it off.

“It’s no trouble to me, sir, I like to be kept busy.”

“You’re not keeping anyone waiting at home…?” Sharp eyes had betrayed his interest in your response.

“I’ve just moved to the city, so no - living on my own for now. I can stay as late as I need to. Haven’t really had the time to try and meet anyone.”

“That’s a shame. We’ll just need to make the work here worth your while then, hmm?”

You nodded at him, and he had left, sliding the gloves the rest of the way on his hands.

His questions made you wonder if he cared about your dating life. That was the first personal question he’d asked of you. You’d certainly wondered about his - but no wedding band was seen on his hand, and no family pictures in his office. You kept your ears and eyes open for information after that night. You would ask a coworker but given the speed of the office rumour mill, you were sure he’d learn about your prying questions. After days pass without clues, you doubt it. After all, he spends the most time with you out of anyone. With the long hours he keeps, he’d struggle to find the time to meet a partner, just as you have. You can practically imagine his response. I’m married to my work, he’d say. That is, if he wasn’t offended by your impudence. 

As the month goes on, you shadow Cirrus more and more during his daily tasks. He started by requesting that you take the minutes for his meetings with clients. It's simple enough and you enjoy getting a better idea of the actual objectives of the company. Plus, during quiet moments, when he or the client refer to documents about their work together, you get the chance to really look at him. The slender line of his neck. The way his muscled back can be seen beneath the expensive fabric of his shirt, shifting as he leans over the table to read. The soft pink of his lips, through which you can see pointed canines flash as he speaks. You see why everyone at Crescent Consulting has such a reverence for him. It’s electrifying to be swept up in the energy and admiration that surrounds him. He's impeccably focused on his tasks and clients are thrilled with the work he does for them. Good thing that you’re kept busy. Spending so much time near him is becoming increasingly distracting. 

You're just coming out of one of these meetings, a little breathless. The client had spoken exceptionally quickly, stuttering and prone to long tangents that left your head spinning. You’d done your best to take notes, but you’d definitely have to edit them later on in the afternoon. At times you'd just slumped over the table, desperately listening and typing as best you could as the conversation ricocheted between the two of them.

“My office, please,” Cirrus requests, as controlled and peaceful as ever. Immediately, your pulse jumps, anxiety spreading through your body. Cirrus hardly ever asks to speak with you privately - he’d email you, or casually drop by your desk to discuss business. Even confidential matters about his work were discussed between the two of you during your meeting together every morning, not off the cuff. 

You step inside after him, pulling the door shut. His office is a place you’ve grown familiar with, though never comfortable in. It was always too quiet. The decor is utilitarian and minimal. One side is entirely windows, partially covered with blinds. A coat rack near his door has a few discarded wire hangers from dry cleaning. There are etched glass awards on his mostly barren bookshelves. A whiteboard is fixed to the wall with a scribbled timeline on it. Cirrus’s desk in the middle of the room, empty except for a few folders and a chair across from it. You choose to hover awkwardly in the doorway. It feels safer, like you could escape if you needed to.

He takes a seat behind his desk, the expansive piece of dark wood now separating the two of you. 

Cirrus regards you coolly as you start to pick at your fingers. 

“I've been quite happy with your work up to this point, don't be mistaken. However, as my assistant, your conduct and decorum reflect directly upon me.” He steeples his fingers in front of him. “Clients notice if you have poor posture. Clients notice if you wander ahead of me in the hallway or speak out of turn. Clients notice-” his gaze falls to your fingers, picking nervously at the edge of a nail, “-when you fidget”. Your hands still immediately. 

You knew that he was aware of you. But you hadn't realised that he paid such close attention to the behaviours you displayed. Had you really acted so unreasonably? Had maybe a client confided in him, or expressed their displeasure with you? Your heart beats wildly in your chest. 

“I'm sorry sir, I haven't been on my best behaviour as of late. I'll work on improving my posture and habits in the office. I hope it hasn't negatively impacted your work…” 

A smile streaks across his face. Sharp, furtive, misplaced, and gone as you peer at him nervously.

“Please see to it that you do,” he replies. There's a lightness to him, an excitement that pulls at the edges of his expression. Something dangerous. “That’ll be all.” 

Your hands, sweaty with nerves, pull open his door and you exit quickly. It's the first time you've really been reprimanded by him. How could you have let yourself grow  complacent? Still, it seemed unfair. You drop down at your desk and pout a little, staring unseeingly at the backdrop of dolphins on your computer monitor. You already do so much for him and follow all his silly little rules, and now he’s getting on your case about fidgeting? What is this, finishing school? Your thoughts swirl as the day goes by. It was embarrassing to be called out on your behaviour. But moreover, it was embarrassing that you had become increasingly reliant on him and his praise. You hadn't fully realised it up until he withdrew it this afternoon. You'd become dependent on him too quickly. He’s just your boss. Nothing more beyond that. And why did his expressions in that conversation seem so… odd? It was unsettling. 

After that conversation between the two of you, Cirrus’s expectations skyrocket. Every day there are new rules.  New subcategories that emails need to be sorted into, preferences on the alert sound for his calendar notifications, the type of lightbulb for his desk lamp, the way you structure your notes for him. It feels endless. And at times, when he gives you feedback - always in that same controlled and polite tone - you catch a glimpse of that same fleeting expression you had seen earlier. You're diligent, dutifully noting down each preference as they come. You walk two paces behind him in the halls. You mind your tone, your facial expressions. You sit at meetings rigidly, still and quiet unless addressed. Your frustrations at his restrictions, once something small and easily cast aside, grows by the day. The amount of care that you direct towards your work is immense. Cirrus is polite to you. Often kind. But the structure from the rules that once felt supportive now feels like a tangled net, restricting your every move. You feel taken for granted. The majority of his requirements are silly preferences that you're sure have no influence on his (or the company’s) success. 

When he interacts with others in the office, however,  things seem easy between them. They fawn adoringly at whatever he says, and he replies to them - always calm and kind. You find yourself a little disgusted with their eagerness. And it's quite simple for them, isn't it? They do their basic job responsibilities and he praises them, values them. That same response from him requires such an extreme amount of effort from you. You scoff to yourself. They might not admire him as much if they ALSO had just gotten an email that read: “In the future, please only order Oleander Co.’s organic fair trade oat milk creamer in low fat. I prefer it over the brand you currently purchase.”

You are capable of the work he asks you to do. But your sense of justice rankles at it. It's not fair that he asks such an astronomically higher level of work from you. At times you wonder if he delights in messing with you. It seems inevitable that one day you’ll forget one of his many rules. You're not sure exactly what makes you decide to do it. The last sliver of your pride, perhaps. 

You order a different type of soap for his bathroom. Your courage wavers a little when you go to order, so you decide on lilac as a replacement. Suitably similar to lavender if you need to defend yourself. It's silly how nerve-wracking it is. You've never directly gone against anything he’s asked you to do. And it’s just soap, after all. You doubt he’ll even notice. 

—---

You place the soap in his bathroom that next Monday after it's been delivered. You look at it, where you’ve set the bottle neatly by the sink, evenly spaced from the wall. You spin the label to face away from you before you leave. Cirrus and you have your morning meeting, as usual. He’s just the same as ever and you find yourself both relieved and disappointed. You’d expected some kind of reaction from him… some reprimand maybe, or a reminder. Something to show you again that he sees you and your work. Something to break the pattern that you’re in with him. But the meeting ends quickly and everything remains as it did before. 

You’re seated at your desk, about to head to lunch, when Cirrus stops by. 

“A word, please. Now. Follow me.” 

He’s very still. Nothing about his face was kind or gentle.. A coworker at the neighbouring desk glances up at you, startled, before they catch themselves and pretend to be engrossed in their salad.

You stand abruptly, silently, fingers fumbling with the notepad on your desk for a moment before you decide to leave it. 

You follow him to his office. Two steps behind him, of course, posture, impeccable. Your hands, forbidden from fidgeting, are held stiffly at your sides. 

He shuts the door firmly behind you. The click of the lock is grimly final. The bottle of soap is on his desk. You exhale, shakily. 

Cirrus leans back against his desk, the bottle next to him. His arms are crossed. You’re not truly afraid until you see his expression. His eyes hold a wildness to them, intense and sharp. The mouth, normally in a polite smile, is stretched wider, sardonic. Your unease grows when you see there's even a light flush across his cheeks. His finger taps rhythmically where it rests along the edge of the desk. His entire appearance has an electricity to it that arcs off of him in waves. 

“Explain this to me.”

Your fear is tempered by the frustration at your mistreatment. “My apologies, sir, I seem to have made a mistake. There’s a lot of work I’m doing currently, I must have simply selected the wrong one.” Your voice is deliberately polite but you’re unable to hide your irritation.

His wicked smile grows. “You’ve never ordered the wrong one before.”

“Yes, well, I know others make mistakes here, too. I don’t see any of them called into your office over something like this, I mean, it’s, it’s - I do my best, sir, I apologise if it’s just not enough for you.” Your cheeks are hot from the defiance burning within you. 

The tapping of his finger ceases. 

“I'm quite certain it wasn't a mistake. No. Not from you, my star employee. Always obedient. Always careful. Attuned to my preferences, my rules for you. When I restricted your decorum in meetings, I wondered if I had gone too far. If maybe - you’d recoil. Hmm.. instead, you grew more pliable, eager to please. Desperate for my praise. Willing to be moulded by me. You question me, why I ask more of you than the other staff here. Well, my star. It’s because you enjoy it. And,” he draws closer to you, less than an arm’s length away, “because I can.”

All the blood in your body seems to leave you and you sag, leaning against the wall. Suddenly, everything becomes clear to you. The constant increasing requests. The minute details he requires you to remember. His attention to your posture, your every mannerism. Each of them feed into his power over you. And the part that makes your heart pound and ears ring is that he's completely correct. You crave it.

He takes in your shocked expression with something akin to glee.

"So eager for me. And now, acting out. Silly little ploy to try and catch my interest. You've already had it. Had it from the moment I met you, when you leaned down and handed me that pen. I wanted to see if you would. If you'd bend for me, right from the start. Don't I give you enough of my attention? Or would you like something more concrete - a reminder you're mine?"

It feels almost impossible to speak but you try, urging your breath back into your struggling lungs.

"Please, sir, I - I…" A reminder that you're his. You are his. The way you speak, the way you walk, every hour of every day, all in service to him. Intoxicating to learn that he's orchestrated it this way. Cirrus has seen you to your very core and it is paralysing.

He raises his hand to your throat, fingers soft, and pins you against the wall. "Don't worry, my star. I'll give you what you desire. Even if words have failed you."

His touch is nothing more than gentle pressure at the base of your neck, but the sensation makes you release a choked gasp.

"Something to remind you, hmm? I'll give you a gift then. Pretty bruises that you can take home. "

Cirrus's hand is tighter around your neck now. Your pulse hammers against his grip. All you can do is nod, the edge of his thumb sharp against your jaw. He releases you, taking a step backwards. His cunning eyes scan the room.

"Place your hands here."

He gestures to the whiteboard and you stumble after him, legs trembling. You place your hands flat on the surface, just below shoulder height, glancing at him questioningly. He traces around your fingers with a marker, outlining each hand in red. It reminded you a little of grade school art projects, and the absurdity of the situation makes your face flush. What if this was all some kind of cruel joke, just to see how much you'd agree to?

His voice breathes low in your ear. "It's in your best interest if you don't smudge any of those lines. Do so and you'll leave with more than just bruises."

Immediately, the levity drains out of you. "I'll try my best, sir."

His hand smooths down the plane of your back. "You always do."

Behind you, you hear him walk over to the coat rack by the door. You twist, your hands fixed in place, and watch as he pulls on his fine black gloves. The leather shines softly in the light of his office.

"Please attempt to be quiet. You know how much the office ladies love to gossip."

You grit your teeth and turn, facing the board once again. Watching him was too much. You close your eyes and exhale a long, shuddering breath.

He brings his hand down swiftly, your clothes and the gloves muffling the sound where he strikes your behind. It's ferociously hard. The force of the impact rocks you forward on your toes and your eyes fly open, checking the lines around your fingers anxiously. A dull ache answers the sting that spreads through you. Your desire spreads too, burning. You'd known he was strong, assumed it from the way he fills out his impeccably tailored dress shirts, but the power behind the slap surprises you. Your breath hisses through your teeth.

A second strike comes, placed right where your butt meets your thigh. It's harder than the last. It forces a gasping yelp out of you, barely stifled through your gritted teeth. Your hands curl just the slightest bit on the board. Your breath comes faster now, panicked. Legs twist where they stand, shying away from him, unable to fully move with your hands pinned.

"Excellent. You're doing well."

He has said that to you so many times before. When you’ve finished your work early, when you've taken minutes for meetings, when you've reminded him of some small important detail. You'll never hear it the same again.

Cirrus waits to deliver the third strike and you try to anticipate it, flinching at every small sound he makes from behind you. He laughs at that, watching you closely.

"Patience."

When he hits you, it spreads across your skin, burning where it lands. You bow forwards, leaning away desperately. The sensation after the strike is just as bad - a second wave of pain that makes sweat prickle at your forehead and brings tears springing to your eyes.

"In my haste, I forgot myself," he muses, stilling behind you. "How can I see when I've fulfilled my promise?"

He slides your clothes off your waist, the air of his office cool on your skin. They bunch tightly around your thighs. You hunch forwards between your arms, humiliated. You're sure that your behind is just as flushed as your face. One gloved hand traces over the reddened skin, the leather like a soothing balm.

The next strike is more targeted, hitting right where your skin is the reddest. The sweat on your hands causes them to slip just the slightest bit on the board and you rock back towards him, trying to lift the weight off your unreliable arms. The outlines remain complete for now. You throb, each heartbeat bringing with it another crashing wave of pain.

"Fuck."

"You know better than to curse around me. Haven't I made my expectations for your etiquette clear?"

He smooths one hand over you, just below the small of your back. Your skin sings at his touch. You feel the weight of him follow, the hard plane of his body pressed up against you. His hands grip your hips. One slides up the front of your chest, pausing for a moment at your throat. It continues, gloved fingers finding their way into your mouth. The bitter taste of leather follows. His other hand grips your hip tightly. He presses down on your tongue, making you gag. Your saliva slicks the material. Cirrus's breath is hot against your ear.

"I'll help you behave yourself."

He withdraws his fingers from your mouth, smearing the wetness across your face. When he moves to the side, you catch the first glimpse of him since you placed your hands on the board. His flushed cheeks are the only sign of his exertion. Not a hair is out of place. You watch through teary eyes as he bites the tip of his gloved hand, pulling the leather from his skin. The glint of his sharp teeth shine from between pink lips. Glove off, he presses his fingers cruelly into your cheeks, prying your lips open once again. His removed glove is pressed between your teeth, silencing you. The material is thick, forces your jaw to spread.

He hits you again before you're really ready, ungloved hand anchored on your hip. The force of the blow shoves you forwards while Cirrus's nails dig into your hip bone, leaving deep grooves. A muffled sob breaks free. Your hand slides down the board, erasing the lines surrounding it. You stumble forward, gasping. His hand creeps under your bent waist, supporting your weight.

Cirrus lays into you without any reservations. He spanks you, hand crashing down again and again. You thrash, hands clutching desperately at his supporting arm where it lays steel-like against your stomach. Twisting, flailing, as he brings you back in line. Drool spills down out of your mouth from around the fingers of the glove. He kicks your legs apart when they clench together before beginning again. The blow blend together. You are ablaze. Writhing in his arms. Needy with desire and aching all over. Your eyes are a mess of tears and you gasp desperately around the glove, nose running. Both of you breathing hard, he takes a moment to examine you before pulling the glove out of your mouth.

"I think you'll be pleased, my star. Once you've come back to yourself. Proof of my ownership pressed into your skin. You won't be able to sit without remembering whom you belong to."

Every part of you throbs. Pain, pleasure, and obedience all searing through your veins in equal measure. You're limp, resting nearly your full weight against him.. You cry softly, stuffy and worn out.

"Come here," he tells you, as he hefts you towards the chair behind his desk. As if you'd have the strength to deny him. He sits and reclines the chair fully, laying back. He holds you against his chest. A moment for you to calm down. You press your damp face into the safety of his shirt while his arms rest softly around your shoulders.

"You shine in your obedience to me." 

His voice is quiet against your hair. You lay there, boneless, listening to the gentle thump of his heart. Feeling the solid ridge of the button of his vest imprint itself on your cheek. Gradually, you come back to yourself. Breathing in his scent as he continues to hold you. You test your limbs, achingly shifting them. Wipe your eyes softly against the back of your hand. A sharp cry springs from your mouth as your raw skin scrapes against the material of his pants. If the way you feel is any indication, you’re probably covered in speckled bruises, soon to shift into blooms of blue and purple. You flinch as you feel a scarlet bead of blood inch down your inner thigh. He shushes you, hand coming up to card through your hair. 

“Does this mean things have changed between us?” Your plaintive question hangs in the air. 

Cirrus’s hand stills. “It doesn’t have to. Continue to serve me. I won't mark you where others will see.”

You nod at that, accepting it without complaint. He was to remain your boss. At least for now, you find yourself thinking. You long for something more. And you suspect he might feel the same, though he’s reluctant to admit it. His rules, so many designed to constrain and rankle. The attention he pays to you. His satisfaction from putting you in your place. Those fleeting moments of tenderness. Nothing about it was casual. Perhaps, with time - and enough tactical disobedience - his commitment to professionalism will crumble. It’s a challenge. Rules and regulations then. A path to something more.

[daemour]

banner by @classicscreations

Pairing: Yugyeom x barista gn!Reader

Genre: Fluff, light crack

Warnings: mentions of blood and injuries, nothing serious

WC: 813

Summary: Yugyeom...is a hot mess. But maybe it's worth it.

-

Yugyeom…is a hot mess. If you could describe him in three words, that would be all the vocabulary you need. He stays up indescribably late, he ignores his allergies in favour of getting pets and not cleaning his house, the list is just too long. You’d think as a twenty-three-year-old he would have some basic life skills down. But alas. He does not.

Take now, for instance. Yugyeom is standing in line at a local cafe, and yet he doesn’t know what to order. And instead of looking at the menu, he’s staring at the case of bagels, hoping that maybe that would spark some inspiration as to what to order.

“I can take the next customer!” Shit. Yugyeom walks up to the register and it definitely doesn’t help that the employee is adorable, with a wide smile and sparkling eyes. Look, Yugyeom’s a fucking simp, all right? “Hi, what can I get you today?”

“Um.” Yugyeom’s panicking. “Can I have a black coffee with…um…caramel?”

The barista nods, lips pressed together to avoid laughing at Yugyeom’s questionable order. Still cute. Their name tag reads (Y/N) and Yugyeom mouths the name, letting it roll off his tongue. (Silently though, he doesn’t think he could take even more embarrassment.) “Would you like anything else with that?”

“No, thanks.” The pin pad beeps and Yugyeom goes to slide his card. He swipes it cleanly once. Then twice. Then a third time. Why isn’t his card working? Yugyeom panics harder, sliding it once more.

“You’re sliding the wrong side,” (Y/N) kindly interjects, a smile still on their face. Yugyeom clamps his mouth shut and he can hear his teeth clack together as he flips his card and tries once more.

Again with the error. Yugyeom sweats and he might actually cry if this keeps up. (Y/N) is staring at the keypad, smile gone, with a look that Yugyeom can’t quite name on their face. Probably confusion at how this grown man can’t seem to swipe a card correctly. “Um…you’re now swiping the card upside down.”

Yugyeom wishes really, really hard that he could just disappear on the spot. But alas, the world is against him today and any other day. “Sorry,” he mumbles out instead, swiping the card correctly this time.

“That’s all right,” (Y/N) smiles kindly, “I’ve had those days too.” Yugyeom offers a wobbly smile in return, turning to leave so that the next customer can order.

Except…as previously mentioned…the world is working against him. He trips over his own feet and crashes right into the pastry display. A loud, resounding crack is heard and Yugyeom regrets deciding to even step out of his apartment for the day. He slowly lifts his head from where he smacked it against the counter and winces at the large crack going through the glass pane. He’s glad it didn’t shatter but…he sighs at the amount he will have to pay to repair that.

“Oh, my God,” he can hear them gasp. “Jinyoung, come out here and take orders. Someone fell down.” Yugyeom silently appreciates how they didn’t call attention to how it was definitely his fault that he fell. He carefully sits back up, eyes trained on the floor as a sense of defeat overcomes him.

A warm hand touches his shoulder gently. “Sorry,” Yugyeom mumbles out before they can say anything, not even looking up from the floor. “I’ll pay for the damages.”

“Don’t worry about that,” (Y/N) tells him, “we’ll figure that out later. Come to the back and sit down, your head’s bleeding.”

Yugyeom nods and lets them lead him into the backroom, where they sit him down and quickly run to grab a cool, damp towel. As they press it to his head, they cluck their tongue and sigh, and Yugyeom feels the need to apologise. “I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I don’t know why I’m so clumsy today.”

They laugh a little. “It’s okay, it happens to the best of us. I just hope you’re not too badly hurt, yeah?” They subconsciously drum their fingers against his head and a shiver runs down Yugyeom’s spine.

“Thank you,” he mumbles out again and smiles up at them shyly from underneath his bangs. “...Could I buy you a coffee?”

(Y/N)'sr eyes crinkle as they return his smile. “Sorry, I don’t drink coffee.” His heart almost stops in embarrassment for the second time today, but then they continue talking. “But I wouldn’t be opposed to tea.”

“Tea? I could do that. When are you off? We could go to that new place across the street?” Yugyeom’s shy and he just knows if his roommates catch wind of this the teasing will never end.

“It’s a date.”

Yugyeom falls off the chair but even through the sound of their laughter, he can’t help but grin. Maybe his ineptitude is worth it.

[toxic-ship-tournament]

ROUND 2 / SIDE A / POLL 2

Esmerelda Poofenplotz x Alice Luoja (@cantdanceflynn) vs Res x Leo (@adanaac)

who makes up your ship?:

Esmeralda Poofenplotz(Canon Phineas and Ferb character(although I draw her differently from canon)) and Alice Luoja(Background character turned Phineas and Ferb oc)

why does your ship deserve to be considered the most toxic?:

THEY BASICALLY STARTED OUT AS TWO DUMBASS TOXIC AF TEENAGERS GOING TO EVIL SCIENCE HIGH SCHOOL TOGETHER AND BEING THE TERRORS OF THE SCHOOL(POOFENPLOTZ BC SHES BIG ON BEAUTY AND WOULD BASICALLY DESTROY EVERYONE'S SELF ESTEEM AND ALICE BC. SHES WILLING TO KILL ANYONE WHO RLY FUCKS W HER), AND WHILE THEY ORIGINALLY HAD A RIVALRY IT GOT A LIL TOO HOMOEROTIC VERY QUICKLY AND THEY DON'T RLY KNOW HOW BUT THEY ENDED UP DATING. THEY ENDED UP, SURPRISE SURPRISE, RUINING EACH OTHER EVEN FURTHER THEN THE TWO OF THEM WERE ALREADY TRAUMATIZED!!!! A TYPICAL INTERACTION BETWEEN EM PRETTY MUCH WENT ALONG THE LINES OF POOFENPLOTZ POKING FUN AT SOMETHING ABOUT ALICES BODY OR PERSONALITY SHE KNEW WOULD TICK ALICE OFF("YOU KNOW, I'M NOT SAYING YOU NEED TO LOSE WEIGHT, BUT THROWING UP YOUR LUNCH LATER COULDN'T HURT"), ALICE GETTING PISSED OFF AND PULLING A KNIFE ON HER("YOU KNOW, MAYBE THIS TIME I'LL CHOP OFF YOUR TONGUE, STOP THAT HORRIBLE NOISE YOU CALL A VOICE"), AND THEN SOMETHING WOULD HAPPEN OR ONE OF THEM WOULD FUMBLE OR FLIRT AND THEY'D JUST GO BACK TO NORMAL BANTER AND TERRORIZING PEOPLE. THEY DID CARE ABOUT EACH OTHER, AND WHATEVER THEY WERE EXPERIENCING CERTAINLY FIT SOMEWHERE WITHIN THE STRANGE AND NEBULOUS RANGE OF ROMANTIC LOVE, LIKE THEY DEFINITELY LIKED EACH OTHER, THEY WERE JUST TOXIC AS SHIT AND HAVING THEIR BEHAVIORS EXPANDED UPON OR REINFORCED BY THEIR ENVIRONMENT. EVENTUALLY ALICES OBSESSION W GODHOOD AND HER IDEA OF PERFECTION (ONE THAT HAD ALWAYS BEEN THERE, EVEN IF POOFENPLOTZ MADE IT MORE PHYSICAL) ENDED UP DRIVING THE TWO APART, WITH HOW HORRIBLE ALICES DECLINE WAS, AND POOFENPLOTZ ENDED UP BASICALLY LEAVING AND IGNORING HER AS A DESPERATE ATTEMPT TO SNAP HER OUT OF HER DECLINE BUT ONLY PULLED HER FURTHER IN. AS IT STANDS NOW IN THE PRESENT, THEIR RELATIONSHIP IS A COMPLICATED SPIRAL OF "POOFENPLOTZ ACTUALLY HEALED AND REALIZED HOW AWFUL SHE WAS BEING AND WHILE SHE STILL HAD A DEGREE IN EVIL SCIENCE SHE HAD TO USE SO SHE MIGHT AS WELL GET A JOB DOING THAT, SHES ALSO RLY TRYING TO FIGURE OUT EVERYTHING W THE CAST AND HELP THEM, ESPECIALLY MILLIE AND PINKY, WHILE ALSO DEALING W " WHOOPS YOUR EX IS BACK IN TOWN AND SHES NOW BEEN RESPONSIBLE FOR MORE DEATHS THEN MOST FULL ON TERRORISM COMBINED, BUT SHE IS ALSO STILL KINDA HOT SO *NONCOMMITTAL HAND GESTURE*, YA KNOW?", MEANWHILE ALICE IS "OH RIGHT. SHE QUALIFIES FOR LOVEMUFFIN TOO. IM ALLOWED TO DENY ON HER ON TERMS OF HER BEING MY EX, RIGHT? BUT ALSO IM STILL GONNA INVITE HER TO OUR MEETINGS AND ALSO OFFER TO LET HER " LEAD" THE CULT IVE MADE THAT CONSISTS BASICALLY JUST OF MY VERY ABUSED OWN SON AND A VERY ABUSED TEENAGER WITH ME BC IF I CAN CHANGE HER MIND I CAN CHANGE ANYONES!"

ship tags/playlists/pinterest boards?:

Esmeralice, https://m.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLnP0Xop8gS5VdFNCP4Uetvq2pM5A9NZTe <- BAD PLAYLIST BY MY STANDARDS OF USUALLY A HUNDRED SONGS AT LEAST BUT ITLL DO FOR NOW

****

who makes up your ship?:

Res and Leo

why does your ship deserve to be considered the most toxic?:

Leo can’t remember anything that has happened to him before the age of twelve. All anyone knows is that he was in an accident that should have killed him, then he returned with an indestructible body and a void where his personality should be. He cannot comprehend good or evil, does not understand the concept known as ‘choice’, and cannot envision an existence where Res isn’t his Master. He imprinted onto Res the moment he met the other man and pushed himself into Res’ life without considering whether or not Res might want it. His first Master did not pass, he simply changed how he looked, and what he looks like now is Res. Period. He has nothing to offer, nothing to say, no emotions and no heart to give. All he knows are the facts, and the facts tell him that there is no Leo without Res. So he’ll make sure that there’s no Res without Leo. Res has always been very into science, but he isn’t too fond of how there are a bit too many restrictions on the experiments he can perform, and he’s even less fond of how they die whenever he tries some of his more ‘exciting’ stuff. Thankfully he has Leo, his little obedient puppy who will obey his every word and donate his body for research. Of course, he’s never asked him whether he was okay with that, but signing a consent form is so old school. He believes that we should be doers, not dreamers, and he’s always wanted to see what the insides of Leo’s body looked like. And all the resistance it’s putting up just makes it all the more exciting. Leo spells unending excitement, and that’s all the reason Res needs to make sure no one else has him. Res is life, but he is not Leo’s purpose for living, because Leo has not questioned whether or not life has a purpose. He doesn’t need to. Res is Leo’s Master, and Leo’s Master is the very concept of life itself. Without his Master, the earth does not spin, and the sun does not shine. Why would it be anything else? Leo is not a person, he is Res’ dream. The dream of a creature that would do nothing but obey his every word, and the dream of an anomaly that he could endlessly explore without an expiration date. A thing that Res will never get bored of. To Res, Leo is just an adorable lab rat who happens to be the only one in the world who can fulfill his dreams. He does not care for Leo, the person, because Leo is not a person, but he does care about Leo, the humanoid playground that belongs to Res, and Res alone. This is love, because love is when someone makes your heart race, and love is when someone makes you feel like you’re free-falling into obsession. Res loves him, loves him, loves him loves him loves himloveshim. Just as we don’t get emotionally attached to the oxygen that keeps our heart beating, Leo does not get emotionally attached to Res, and he doesn’t need to. This isn’t love, it’s something more than that. Love can change, fade and evolve- it’s fickle, fleeting and easily manipulated. What Leo and Res have is a constant. Res belongs with Leo, and Leo belongs with Res. Don’t argue with the facts. Because you’re wrong, and Leo will make sure you know you’re wrong, no matter who you are. It’s a good thing they’re with each other, and no one else. (Leo is Uno's oc, Res is Canada's oc. Above description written by Uno. Canada's description below) They're basically like those AITA stories where both are the asshole and its a good thing they're together and making each other worse. btw Res is the short pink one and Leo is the tall one.

ship tags/playlists/pinterest boards?:

[sheerfreesia007]

Fluffmas #20

Title: Fluffmas #20

Fandom: Kingsman

Pairing: Agent Tequila x OFC!

Author: @sheerfreesia007​

Prompt: Building a snowman

Words: 665

Warnings: 

Permanent Tag List: @paintballkid711, @fioccodineveautunnale, @phoenixhalliwell, @linkpk88, @weirdowithnobeardo, @athalien

Gif Credit: @bonniebirddoesgifs

Snow was gently falling from the sky as you bent over and continued to roll the ball of hard packed snow that you had been working on for the better part of half an hour. You were sweating as you pushed the snowball over the ground trying to gather as much snow on it as possible. Moving around the yard you finally rolled it large enough to be able to sit on the first snowball you had created. You rolled the ball over to the first one and sighed softly as you realized you might not be able to pick this one up to set it on top of the other.

“Need help?” came the soft drawl from behind you. Turning to look over your shoulder you grinned at Tequila before stepping away so that he could pick up the snowball. You watched silently as he effortlessly picked it up and sat it on top of the base, your eyes darted to the simple long sleeved flannel he wore and watched as his muscles made the material stretch across his back showing off the lines in his back and muscles. Instantly your body flushed hotly and silently cursed yourself as you turned away so that Tequila wouldn’t see your reaction to him. If Tequila got wind of your reaction to just him lifting a large snowball you’d never hear the end of it especially after the morning you spent underneath him in bed.

“Thanks, T.” you say fondly over your shoulder as you move to begin rolling another smaller snowball to serve as the head. You stood straight as you held the slowly forming ball of snow in your hands and patted the snow together, when you turned back around you were presented with Tequila’s broad chest that you nearly bumped into. Looking up at him you saw his teasing wolfish grin as he wrapped his arms low on your waist.

“That’s all I get is thanks?” he asked you while his eyes sparkled mischievously as he leant down close to your face. “That’s all I get?” he asked again and you huffed at him knowing exactly what he wanted. You leaned up on tip toe slightly and pressed your lips to his sweetly, Tequila easily took over the kiss as he swept his tongue along your bottom lip before slipping it into your mouth when you gasped softly. The man pulled you close to him and easily lifted you up onto his hips before sliding his hands around your ass cheeks and cradling them in his palms. “That’s what I’m talking about.” he said softly when you both pulled apart. “What do you say to heading back inside and watching the snowfall from our bed?” he asked while wiggling his eyebrows. 

“Help me with the last snowball and we’ll go back inside.” you offer up to him and he grins before grabbing the snowball from your hands and begins to pack more snow around it. He’s moving quickly as you begin to pick up rocks and sticks to use as eyes, buttons, nose and arms. After a few minutes he meets you at the unfinished snowman and you grin as you see that he’s made a perfectly shaped head for your snowman. You happily put the rocks in place before jamming the sticks into the sides of the snowman before taking a step back and surveying your work. Tequila eagerly wraps his arms around your waist while pressing his front to your back.

“I think he looks great. Do you want anything else to go on him?” He asks as he nuzzles his face into your neck.

“I’ll find a hat and scarf for him later and maybe a carrot to replace his nose. But for now I think he’s good. Besides, I'm cold now.” you tell him and Tequila eagerly lifts you in his arms before running for the house, you shriek with laughter as he takes the steps two at a time.

[cephalog0d]

Tagged by @outtoshatter for Messy Draft Monday! We had a GIGANTIC lightning storm for over an hour and one of them was really close and something in my router went "zap" and now it's dead so lol writing time I guess.

I got bit by a plot bunny earlier thinking about never-taken-in-by-Bruce Civilian!Dick and early Batgirl!Babs so here's some banter.

“Are you injured?” he asked. “Just my pride,” she said with a sigh. He flashed her a relieved smile. “Ah, not sure I can help with that. We didn’t cover bruised egos in EMT training.” “Clearly the training needs an update,” she said dryly. “I can improvise?” the stranger offered with a laugh, extending a hand to help her up. “Well, I wouldn’t say no to a little bit of an ego boost.” Barbara decided she probably didn’t have too much face to save considering he’d found her lying in a pile of trash and took the offered hand, letting the man help haul her to her feet. “Wow, you’re tall,” he blurted out, without thinking based on the way he winced the second it was out of his mouth. To be fair, the boots added a little bit of height, but only a little bit, and Barbara was still taller than a lot of people without them. She kept her expression carefully neutral. “Gee, thanks, consider my ego fully boosted,” she said flatly. “Uh. I like your hair? Wait, that’s still weird, I should maybe quit while I’m behind.” The stranger shrugged and gave her a sort of lop-sided smile. “Mm, it might have been less painful if I did need stitches,” Barbara agreed with a smirk. “Oh, definitely.” He nodded emphatically, smile widening. “I’m great at stitches. The key is distraction.” “‘Look over there, there’s a gorilla in a tutu’?” Barbara suggested. “I prefer jokes. What do you give a sick lemon?” Judging from the way he was grinning, Barbara was positive she wasn’t going to like the answer. He didn’t bother waiting for her to respond, though, before answering. “Lemon-aid.” Barbara rolled her eyes, moving her head to make sure it came through with the mask. “Oh, I get it, inflict worse pain so the original doesn’t hurt as much.” “They do say laughter is the best medicine.” “Yeah, but that means you actually have to be funny.” “Maybe I should try silly costumes and prat falls?” he suggested, his smile going a bit sharper. “How about you stick to your thing and I’ll stick to mine? I don’t think I can handle that kind of punishment.”

About ten seconds later Dick puts his entire foot in his mouth and Babs tells him exactly what he can do with his unsolicited, condescending advice, it's the beginning of a beautiful relationship.

(Look, 5 out of my 7 hard copy official DC character guides list Babs at 5'11" and I will DIE ON THIS HILL, Tall!Babs 5ever, fight me.)

No-pressure tags for @dangerousdan-dan, @kayrielwrites, @sepia-stained-sunset, @roseandgold137, @bess3714 and anyone else who wants to play!

[britcision]

Alright, friendos! Happy Hanukkah, happy Yule, merry Christmas, happy Kwanza, and happy holidays to anyone I forgot who is still celebrating or gets to start soon!

This chapter is dedicated to all our brave souls who have just made their way through finals! You made it, you’re free, and you deserve a heckin’ break

Tag list: @welcometosasakiworld @kyrianclawraith @someonebored0100 @stealingyourbones @starkcravingmad @frostedthroughghost @akikoyuii @rainbowbunny0159 @littlefeather345 @violet-catsarelife @serasvictoria02 @wolfjackle @blacksea21090 @secretdestinywerewolf @anime-hipster-the-amazing @undead-essence @skitscratched @blackroserelina @snoodly-boop @trickerdi @mayoota-blog @xysidhe @idkmrpianoman @little-apricot-the-writer @chaoticmistake @the-legal-shipper @bun-fish @aroranorth-west @demon-cat-goes-woof @eonic @onyxlightdragon @larks-and-katydids @peachesandcreamfemboy @jesus-camp-the-sequel

Previous chapter:

First chapter:

—————————

A Swell Night On The Town

Jason had been pretty sure he knew what to expect from Vlad Masters. The Plasmius file had stood out even amongst all the other ghosts, and not just for being a halfa.

The guy was a stalker, a creep, manipulative as hell, and would not take no for an answer. And no, he didn’t need a second grabby billionaire anywhere near his life, thanks.

He’d dealt with dozens just like him, rich assholes who thought their wealth and power made them untouchable.

And the man himself, standing in front of him? Yeah, okay, Jason was a little surprised.

Vlad’s face had this perfect fist shape to it, like his cheekbones were gonna wave Jason in to break his teeth.

Wild how that worked.

Offering to share Danny’s baby pictures was… an unexpected avenue of attack, honestly. Fucking effective though, and it had somehow defused the situation.

He’d still rather drag the man out by the scruff of his neck, but the apparent peace offering settled something inside him. Well, more directly Danny’s reaction to it.

Danny wasn’t scared of Vlad. Whatever he was, whatever he’d done? However much he’d hurt Danny in the past, used his death against him?

It hadn’t been fear setting Danny off when he knew Vlad was here. Which raised the question of what it had been, but he could always ask later.

For now, Vlad wasn’t an immediate threat to be eliminated, at least not yet. Today, they could play with him a little.

And if that changed? He was ready.

So Jason let his face soften into a smile as Danny groaned, damn near as dramatic as Dick. Let Vlad think he might be tempted.

And maybe just a little enjoy the revenge after all that bugging about the pixie boot photos earlier.

He reached out automatically to steady Danny as he swayed, leaving his hand on his shoulder. And watched Vlad track the gesture, which was… interesting.

Yeah, they could probably get him on the same game as the Manson’s. Jason let his arm slip around the slighter man’s shoulders, skimming gently down his arm.

Danny leaned into him just a little and if that made the pit happy, well, convenient bonus. Most of his attention stayed fixed on Vlad.

“I guess you’ve known each other a long time?” He offered, trying to keep his voice more neutral.

Danny sighed dramatically, folding his arms and glaring.

“Well it sure fucking feels like forever,” he grumbled loudly and Jason grinned, ruffling his hair.

“Not so long as I’d like,” Vlad argued with a soft chuckle, shaking his head. “I’m afraid even though I have always been his godfather we did not meet until he joined the club as it were. Had we met sooner I might have made a better impression.”

Sam snorted most of a laugh derisively through her nose, cocking her hip and smirking at him.

“Would you have given a fuck before he joined the club?” She asked sarcastically, perfectly matching his dramatic emphasis.

Vlad shot her another scathing look, then gave Jason an obsequious smile.

“Of course, I don’t have anything on me, but if you would like to come by some time…” he began, and Danny straightened so fast that something in Jason lurched to pull him back.

He resisted. Barely.

“Hell no Vlad, fuck off. You’re not having Jason over to your creepy ass castle in Wisconsin,” Danny snapped, his eyes flashing green and Jason had a revelation.

That? That was a truly fucking weird thing to see. Even if it hadn’t always been the trigger for violence, yeah, he could see why his family flinched.

Also? Danny getting possessive? Adorable.

Vlad certainly seemed to agree (which made Jason immediately want to change his mind), giving Danny a smug smile.

“Jason is an adult, Daniel, as you are yourself. I believe he can make up his own mind?” He purred, gaze flicking expectantly back to Jason.

It was a good thing he’d been practicing one of his best gala smiles half the month for this occasion. He’d never been more thankful for the training that let him keep it light and sweet.

“I’m not coming to your creepy ass castle in Wisconsin,” he agreed with Danny, loving the way Vlad’s face fell.

Impatient bastard. Like Jason hadn’t proved extremely early on which side of this line he was coming down on. Although…

“But maybe you can email me.”

Keep him sweet. Keep him hopeful. All the better to fully fuck around with later, and maybe give himself a backdoor into any plans.

Danny grinned smugly back at Vlad, folding his arms and leaning into Jason in a way that was definitely all out possessive. Which Jason could kinda get.

The new kid at school liked Danny best. Hell, Jason was always smug as fuck when one of the birds sided with him over B.

“Aww, I guess even your best impression wasn’t up for much, huh Vladdie?” Danny teased and Vlad’s eyes narrowed, before his smile flashed back, sharp and venomous.

“I shall certainly send you some pictures at my earliest convenience, Jason. Do you have a card?” He asked sweetly, looking from Danny directly up to Jason’s face.

Jason stifled a snicker.

“It’s not the eighties. Gimme your phone, I’ll add you.” He held out a hand, half expecting Vlad to refuse.

Surely he didn’t make his money and build his evil empire by being stupid. But no, Vlad gave him a calculating look and then handed the device right over.

Didn’t even try and look at the screen. And, well, Jason was a Robin once. Even Danny grabbing for the phone didn’t stop him, raising it above his reach.

Type his email with thumb swipes so it took half the time, turn on bluetooth, pair to Tim’s phone, get the ping for the downloaded app, bluetooth off and he handed the phone back to Masters, back on the contact screen.

“Here. That’s my private email, so don’t go giving it out to all and sundry,” he added as Danny tried to flap the phone from his hand.

“Aw come on Jason! You can’t give him that, he’s evil!” Danny whined, and Jason put his free hand directly in Danny’s face and pushed him away like he’d do Dick.

“You wanted to talk to Selina, you filthy fucking hypocrite.”

“Who wanted to talk to me?”

And speak of the devil, here she was, slinking towards them in one of her tight black dresses, short hair cupping her face.

Vlad shifted to let her join them, making a face when she stepped too close and stepping quickly away.

Jason closed his lips on a grin. Hope he didn’t have anything too precious in those pockets. Luckily his phone was still in hand, now tucked into a different pocket.

“I did,” Sam said loudly before anyone could interrupt, turning and bestowing her sweetest Manson Party Smile on her. “I heard you have baby photos of Jason.”

Selina raised an eyebrow as Jason made a half hearted grab for Sam, cocking her hip and smirking at him.

“Why darling, I most certainly do. And you are?” She asked, gaze darting around the group.

Sam stuck out her hand to shake.

“Sam Manson. This is my date, Danny Fenton, and my… friend, Jason Todd,” she introduced, jerking her thumb at the boys in turn.

Vlad cleared his throat, and promptly regretted it when Sam smirked.

“Oh, and this asshole is Vladdie.”

Vlad shot a glower at her while Danny and Jason snickered, turning to offer Selina his own hand.

“Vlad Masters, Daniel’s godfather.”

Selina took his hand delicately, a sharp smile on her face as she shook.

“Oh, so you’re the one who’s been snatching at the little Waynes! Have you come to make a grab for Jason?” She asked with a barely hidden glee, and alright, maybe she could stay.

Vlad’s poleaxed expression would make up for a lot, then he snapped too and snatched his hand away.

“I most certainly… oh… well. I. Suppose there was one incident, but I’d hardly call it grabbing,” he admitted with ill grace, smoothing down the front of his suit.

Selina’s smile spread and she pointed discretely towards the refreshment tables.

“Oh? Poor Tim has had to get an ice pack I hear, and someone said that you were behind Dick’s sudden disappearance. I’ll have to warn you that the last one left is Damian and he has a reputation of his own,” she purred.

Vlad’s brows furrowed into a deep frown, clearly not sure how to handle this situation. Being the focus of the gossip was apparently a change for him.

Jason was almost jealous, but the sheer joy of watching Selina at work washed it away. Not being the focus of all the gossip was a fun change for him.

“Damian Wayne?” Vlad asked, glancing back at Jason. Like Jason was about to help.

“He bites,” Jason explained casually and Danny fucking cackled, falling forward into Sam.

“Oh… oh Vlad… Vlad please… go bother Damian,” Danny gasped as Sam caught him, and Sam smirked.

“Would you turn down your Wayne scholarship?” Sam asked wickedly and Vlad’s head snapped around so fast he must have cricked his neck.

“Your what?” He asked sharply as Danny sucked in great lungfuls of air, finally straightening.

He was in no fit state to answer so Sam took over, smirking at Vlad.

“Oh, part of why Danny came is because he won a Wayne scholarship,” she said with a smug confidence Jason had to admire.

And join in on, since it was upsetting Vlad so much.

“Yeah, Brucie just loves to provide for underprivileged youth. It’s how we got my newest brother Duke,” he explained with an offhanded shrug, and oooooh he could almost see steam flying from Vlad’s ears.

His glare snapped back to Danny himself, who was just barely recovering.

“Then I suppose it’s a good thing I was here to defend your good name to Brucie,” Vlad spat the words like they tasted bad and that sent Danny off again.

“Aww, Vladdie, you do care,” he giggled, pulling himself back up and wiping at his eyes.

Vlad’s expression contrived to somehow become even more constipated. He turned deliberately back to Selina, his smile decidedly pinched now.

“And you know the Waynes well, I presume?” He asked, doing his best to pretend none of the younger three were grinning at him.

Selina cocked a brow, clearly clocking the interaction and filing it for later, a slow smile curling her lips that Jason fucking recognised.

“Oh, I know Brucie quite well,” she purred, one hand coming up to cup her elbow while she toyed with her hair, “I couldn’t paw-sibly miss the chance to greet Jason.”

Which, honestly, Jason considered mild for her. Vlad’s brows furrowed in confusion this time and Sam covered her mouth with her hand.

Selina tipped Jason a wink and he rolled his eyes good naturedly.

“Couldn’t miss the chance to fuck with Bruce, more like?” He asked dryly.

It wasn’t that he specifically didn’t want her there. Fuck, anything keeping Bruce off his ass was a win.

It was more that putting her next to Danny was probably an incredibly bad idea. His eyes had lit up - thankfully not green - and he grinned back at her.

“Well it is the purr-fect opportunity,” he said gleefully and Sam groaned.

“So this is how I die. Fantastic,” she snarked as Selina’s smile spread and she turned to face Danny more directly.

“But of course, anything fur family,” she agreed genially.

Vlad was beginning to look annoyed too, and Jason decided that was enough to tip him over into enjoying it. Not joining in; he wasn’t Dick.

Fuck.

Dick was here.

Biting down the urge to look around, Jason took a deep breath. Dick was probably still in the back. Probably still having hysterics.

What had Vlad even said to him?

Whatever it was, Jason might owe him a thank you for getting Dick out of the way of this particular meeting. All three at once would be…

Yeah, no, creepy castle in Wisconsin won if only because Jason had fucking always wanted to cause mayhem in an actual castle. Wayne Manor was fine, but an actual castle?

It might have battlements. It definitely had a ghost and a half.

Danny and Selina were clearly having fun, going back and forth with increasingly over reaching cat puns.

Jason took advantage of the moment to casually reach behind Danny and entwine his hand with Sam’s. She started a little, glanced over, and made a show of almost-but-not-quite pulling away.

Keep the show going. Apparently they were competing with Vlad for the spot of Top Scandal, which was just fucking great. No matter who won, they couldn’t lose.

Selina must have noticed though, because she gave him a sly look and gently broke things off with Danny.

“Not to pussyfoot away, but I do need to steal Jason for just a moment darlings. Old family friends and all that,” she added, tipping Danny a wink as he chuckled.

Jason gave her a wary look for a moment, then followed her a short distance away. Staying far enough back to be out of pickpocket range.

“What did you do?” He asked quietly once they were out of earshot, pausing at another potted plant. Appeasing Ivy, or a subtle invitation.

Selina gave him her most innocent smile, leaning up against the pot.

“I may have upset Bruce a little, and now he’s looking for you. He was going to the back rooms first but that shouldn’t take him long.”

Jason remembered watching Cass drag a wailing Dick to the back rooms.

“He might take longer than expected,” he noted with a half smirk, then shook his head. “So why’s he looking for me?”

He couldn’t think of anything Selina might do that would have Bruce hunting him down; usually the response to Selina turning up was to usher the kids away.

No matter how old those kids were.

Not that any of them actually wanted to stick around, just. It was dismissive at best.

Selina smiled fondly and patted his cheek, and for once the emotion seemed genuine.

“Jason, darling, no man likes to think their little boys have grown up. And of course I assumed that if you were making this much of a scandal this early on it was intentional, so I told him you had an orgy in the back rooms,” she finished bluntly, shattering the soft moment Jason didn’t know how to handle.

Rather than stammering or shutting down over emotions he wasn’t sure he could face, a startled laugh shot down his nose.

“You fucking what?!”

“I told him that when you five snuck off for your little chat earlier you’d been caught with your pants down,” Selina explained casually, an entirely catlike smile of satisfaction on her face.

And yeah, okay, maybe Jason was reminded why he liked Selina. For all the distance between them, she’d never stopped treating him as Robin.

She and Bruce might be on again off again, but she’d always be a cool stepmom to the birds. And she could be relied on to join a good joke…

Leaning in, Jason lowered his voice.

“You’re absolutely right, targets are the Manson parents, Bruce, and Vlad. Do you need to be filled in?” It had been a while since he’d done a speed debrief, but at least Selina had received a few.

And recreationally hung out with Harley Quinn. Her eyes sparkling with mirth, she shook her head.

“Oh not at all, darling. You know I pre-fur a surprise. Is the young Miss Manson in on it?” She asked, gaze sliding back across to the others.

Jason snickered, letting his eyes follow hers. Vlad seemed to have swanned off somewhere, and Danny was vainly “trying” to recapture Sam’s attention.

“Sam called the hit. They insist she has to find an eligible bachelor, so she’s got two,” he added, and Selina’s smile took on a decidedly nasty edge.

“Well then you’d best get back there and woo her, hadn’t you?” She cooed, long fingers gently patting Jason’s cheek again as she straightened to slink back into the party. “I’ll tell Bruce you’re at the refreshments.”

Jason hurried back to Sam and Danny, not exactly keeping his head low, but folding himself in a little. Hanging out with Superman and Clark Kent taught a guy a few tricks.

Catching his companions by an arm each, he leaned in to whisper,

“Selina told Bruce we’ve been having an orgy in the back rooms, she’s gonna be running interference and get him to the refreshments,” he explained quietly.

Sam snickered and shook her head, tugging her arm from his grip but allowing him to take her hand instead.

“So is she in on it?” She asked quietly, sharp eyes glancing around the party. Jason shrugged.

“I didn’t tell her much, but she’s always down to cause trouble of one sort or another. Wanna look for your parents and be conspicuous?” He asked Sam, grinning.

A grin spread across Sam’s face too and she nodded, giving him a nudge with her shoulder.

“Your family is fucking ridiculous, Jay.”

Which wasn’t news, but it was nice when other people noticed.

“We’re not really the ones to talk,” Danny pointed out with a grin of his own, coming around to take Sam’s other hand, “dare you to trip me in front of the Mansons, Jason.”

And if there was one thing Jason had gotten in trouble for all through his life… he could never resist a dare.

**

When did everything go so wrong?

It had been such a lovely evening, and yet out of nowhere, everything had turned on its head.

People were whispering about him, as they usually did, but now it was with giggles! Mockery hidden behind a hand, a glass, some ridiculous fan.

They tittered as he passed, closed their circles and turned their backs, or even moved away from him! He found himself suddenly alone, a room full of people exquisitely aware of his presence and avoiding it.

As if he were somehow beneath them. As if they had any sort of high horse to hold over him. And all for what? A mild misunderstanding?

It was something he’d always noticed about Gothamites, when he’d met them away from this dingy city. The way they considered themselves superior, above the rest for being a bloated parasite class in a jumped up hellhole.

Talking as if they personally were made stronger by all of those rogues, the darkness, the gothic nonsense. As if their city would protect them when even their Bat sought to bring them down.

Corrupt, stinking, filthy wretches. It was why it had never bothered him to avoid the den itself.

Oh, there was abundant ectoplasm, the misery and terror of millions saturating the air to almost Amity Park standards. So many people, crammed together, living in fear every day of their lives.

It made their hope powerful, those who lived at street level. Those who actually faced the city’s dangers. But these inept plutocrats? Cushioned with wealth and corruption and casual evil?

Their city hated them almost as much as Vlad. Would be happy to see them and their pathetic little Court fall. Maybe then the place could finally breathe.

They should count themselves lucky Vlad was above sinking to their level. Restrained himself to icy smiles and remembered faces, adding to his list of those to exploit.

Perhaps that would make Daniel happy; he and that goth girl were so in favour of the working class. A little redistribution of wealth (and some to himself) could be a nice gift.

Of course, if he actually thought about it, Vlad had a pretty solid guess of when the night had left the rails. He never should have grabbed the young Drake, thinking he was Daniel or not.

Frankly grabbing Daniel had been one of the habits he was intent on breaking, but it had just… happened. Force of habit was an irritatingly powerful thing.

They had always had a very physical relationship, and wasn’t that part of the problem? Vlad had never intended that.

It was just that the boy didn’t listen. Wouldn’t see what was good for him, no matter how clearly it was shoved in front of his face. He was independent, wilful, and while those were good traits…

Daniel also insisted on using them against him. Against himself. And Vlad… well, Vlad knew he had a temper. And frankly, so did Daniel.

They butted heads and with their shared abilities, sometimes that got explosive. But those same abilities were how Vlad knew that no matter how much they fought, they would be pulled back together.

And now there was a new halfa. For a supposedly rare occurrence, it was really becoming increasingly common.

Perhaps that was worth testing too. If something about the modern world made it easier to create a new halfa.

Not that young Jason was quite finished yet, he wasn’t a fully formed ghost, but Vlad could already taste the power in the air around the boy.

Not being alone had been all he’d wanted for so long.

And, apparently, something Daniel had been craving in an entirely different way. The air between the boys had been charged with more than just Daniel’s little flare of power.

Vlad wasn’t quite sure where the need to mention Daniel’s photos had come from; he’d never planned to let the boy know he had them.

It had been an idle curiosity, years ago now, and they’d never come to fruition. But seeing Daniel so obviously interested in young Jason…

Vlad was sure he’d looked at Madeline like that all the time, back at school. And far more lucky than he, Jason seemed to return the interest.

Daniel moving to protect Jason, put himself between them, had been expected. It was his nature, dear boy, and as foolish as it could be he stuck to it.

Jason refusing to allow it, moving Daniel behind himself? Surprising, and entertaining. If not for himself, he’d have thought those protective urges helped to form a halfa.

And, of course, it was rather telling.

Whatever Daniel had told him that made Jason see Vlad as a threat, Jason saw him as a threat to Daniel, not himself. That could be useful too.

Vlad would rather be a threat to neither of them if they’d just learn to listen. All he offered was a gift, and all he asked was to not have it tossed aside.

All he wanted was a family. And while he certainly wasn’t yet as desperate as Brucie Wayne, adopting any child he found on a street corner… perhaps the other man did have something to teach him.

With any luck they would still be able to have their private meeting. Vlad could only hope that the impression he’d managed to make would be enough.

The man doted on his sons, and Vlad involved in upsetting two of them? No, he would have to tread very carefully here.

Some form of apology. Not tonight, not while the issues were still… fresh. He would have to steer clear of the Waynes for the rest of the evening.

And think of some suitable way to show his contrition.

The younger boy was interested in technology, wasn’t he? His interest in Tucker would be explained there. And Vlad had plenty of technology beyond the power of science alone.

Yes, some form of gift for Timothy. Nothing too closely related to ghosts, but that was only a brief limit.

And perhaps it would be a way to soothe Jason too. For him to see that Vlad was sincere, that he did not intend to be a threat.

Why, maybe even something to protect the boy. A personal shield, perhaps. That should please such a protective soul.

Richard would be harder. Perhaps Vlad should have avoided the topic altogether, but he hadn’t realised the boys had been close.

By all accounts Grayson had precious little to do with Brucie around the time of Jason’s adoption, and while there was never any negative publicity, they rarely appeared together.

Not the way Grayson could now be seen fawning over all of his other siblings, draping himself over them and teasing whenever possible.

Perhaps Jason’s death had been a catalyst for him.

Not that it mattered. Even if the young man’s hysterics had been at least partially overblown (it certainly hadn’t followed through to Vlad’s enhanced senses), the message was clear.

And he’d gotten the answers he needed anyway.

Perhaps something equally overblown in return, Vlad mused with a slight smile, ignoring the other guests flowing around him.

Flowers wouldn’t please most young men, but the goal wasn’t actually to please Richard. He might appreciate a dramatic gesture in return.

And the man was a police officer of some sort. Something for his station.

Yes, no need for the evening to be a total loss. There would be the meeting with Bruce, and perhaps he could even persuade the man that he wished for his help to make amends.

As frustrating as this little setback was… this was still his day.

**

Tucker had absolutely no idea why Sam always complained about these parties, because he was having the best night of his life.

He’d met Tim Drake-Wayne! Actually hung out with Tim Drake-Wayne! WAS STILL hanging out with Tim Drake-Wayne!

And he got to piss off Vlad, eat fancy food, make his mom cry with pics of him in his fancy suit… Yeah, it was the best day ever.

Tim had taken his jacket off a little while ago after they’d bumped into Vlad, and while they’d joked about rigging him a sling for the rest of the night, it’d be taking the bit a little far.

It had also given them an excuse to hang out away from the crowd for a while and just talk tech while Tucker iced the “wounded” shoulder.

As expected, Tim Drake-Wayne was beyond brilliant. Most CEOs had no idea what the departments who actually worked for a living did, but Tim?

Tim knew about every single project going on in R&D. He knew what all of them were doing, and he seemed impressed that Tucker kept up with as much of their testing as was made public.

Remembering which bits still weren’t technically public yet was a little trickier, but he didn’t want to make a bad impression.

Hiring the hacker who broke your system was a movie bit, not real life. But, Tucker did hope that if he could impress Tim tonight, he’d at least remember Tucker’s name when the job faires started.

If Danny and Jason hooked up, maybe he and Tim would get to hang out at other events in future.

Because yeah, Tucker dug the new halfa. He did. Jason was funny, cool, pretty considerate, and just immediately down for Team Phantom’s fuckery in a way few people were.

Hell, he’d gotten Tucker a party ticket at pretty near the last second for Tucker to have this, the best night of his life. Tucker loved the guy, for all he’d known him for about a weekend.

But.

He did suffer from not being Tim Drake-Wayne. Like a lot.

It was probably something he heard way too often though, so Tucker was never gonna mention it.

Cuz yeah, Jason might be entry number four in a species that no one had thought was possible, but like.

Tim Drake-Wayne.

It just wasn’t a fair contest.

Tucker hadn’t clicked with anyone this fast since the day he met Danny in first grade too. He’d known Tim Drake-Wayne would be brilliant, obviously.

The guy was the next best thing to Batman himself, and was even mentioned occasionally in some of the Oracle-spotting groups Tucker frequented.

(Not that he could be Oracle, of course. While Tucker would put money on Oracle being in Gotham, Tim had way too much public presence.

He had a busy, often public job, but Tucker was just dying to ask if he’d ever done custom work for Oracle themself. Not on first meetings, though.

Had to find out if the guy was In The Know or not first. There were some theories that he was good enough to be a Robin, but Tucker didn’t really follow Gotham’s vigilantes.

More likely they just bought - or were given - Wayne tech and talked to the Oracle themselves.)

But really, Tucker hadn’t expected Tim to be so funny. He reminded Tucker of Danny in that way, always ready with a quip or a one liner.

They cracked each other up, and even now that they were back recirculating Tucker barely noticed who Tim was introducing him to.

All rich folks, the Mansons’ level or higher, most old enough to be their parents if not their grandparents. All making boring, prim and proper conversation.

The room might as well have been empty of everyone but Tucker and Tim. He didn’t even bother keeping an eye on Vlad, though he and Tim had exchanged grins as they watched the slowly expanding circle now following the man wherever he went.

Vlad was Danny’s problem. Tonight, all Tucker cared about was spending time with one of his own personal heroes.

Right up until he opened his mouth and fucked it up.

“Yeah, I was gonna stay at MIT over the holidays, there were some cool experimental tech meet ups planned? But I’m glad I wound up going home. It would have sucked to miss this!”

Tim stared at him for a moment, then actually laughed, which kinda surprised Tucker a bit. He hadn’t been joking?

And Tim clearly saw his confusion, patting Tucker companionably on the back.

“Sorry man, it’s just… you’ve gotta be the only person I know who doesn’t hate these things with a passion,” he explained, still grinning fondly.

Tucker cocked his head, frowning thoughtfully.

“What? Why not? The food’s great, dressing up fancy is fine once in a while, and the company…” he trailed off, cheeks heating just a little as he considered how to end the sentence.

He didn’t wanna wind up sounding like Danny. That would be way too embarrassing.

Luckily Tim didn’t seem to mind, grinning and giving him a cheeky nudge. Hopefully he wouldn’t notice the blush so much on Tucker’s cheeks.

“Oh trust me, this is definitely the best gala I’ve ever been to too. I’ve never had half this much fun before, cuz the company is usually waaaay more…” he waved his hand, gesturing to the small chatting groups they were wandering past.

All older, stuffy, boring… yeah. Fair.

Tucker grinned slyly at the other man.

“Well I’m glad I could liven up your evening, but Jason already told us you’re here to scout out Danny,” he teased, and Tim laughed again.

“Yeah, that probably woulda made top five anyway,” he agreed easily, “but you shoulda seen Damian’s first party. Demon brat was still half feral, he challenged a guy to a duel for calling him the “little Wayne”.”

Tucker laughed as well, glancing around the hall just in case the littlest Wayne should appear. No such luck.

“I can’t say I’m surprised,” he agreed with a broad grin, “he seemed a little short tempered.”

Tim nodded cheerfully.

“Oh he’d take your fingers off if Brucie hadn’t convinced him it was undignified to bite. His mom was one of those… what you’d call old fashioned. Very big on family honour and defending it at all costs.”

Tucker whistled long and low, shaking his head.

“Yeah, can’t say I’ve seen much of that… not as much as Danny, but you met Vlad,” he added with a snicker and Tim chuckled and bumped his shoulder.

“Yeah, well. I’m still glad you came. Do your family live near by or did you have to fly in?” Tim asked cheerfully and Tucker laughed.

“Nah, neither, Danny picked me up.” And then Tucker froze.

Right.

Yeah.

Cuz you couldn’t just say “my friend the Ghost King came and picked me up, we portalled through his private dimension”.

Not to a stranger.

Tim looked momentarily confused. As one should, when someone made no fucking sense.

“Danny? Does he fly?” He asked, and Tucker hid a sigh of relief under a huff of laughter.

“Well I’m not really supposed to say,” he whispered, leaning in close so as not to be overheard, “but let’s just say not officially?”

**

Team Phantom Group Chat

‘TechMasterF: so for all future interactions Danny you have an illegal pilots license. Can the GAV do a plane?’

‘TechMasterF: doesn’t matter I’ll say it can’

**

Jason had not been in the back rooms.

There also hadn’t been the kind of scuffing that would indicate… activities from a group of more than two people, but that didn’t put Bruce’s mind at ease.

There were plenty of ways to hide such things, and he had endlessly drilled his boys in being discrete.

If only he’d done a worse job.

Prowling around the party, he kept his genial smile on as a matter of course, chatting as he passed but never stopping. He had to find his son.

He’d run into Dick on his way out of the back hall, half burying poor Cass in his loud sobbing. Seeing an opportunity, Bruce had pulled both aside for a quick debrief.

Apparently Masters had run into them as well, and had actually dared to ask the question he’d heard circling the room all evening.

Jason’s funeral.

No one else was going to, thanks to Dick’s antics.

It didn’t make Bruce feel any better, since neither of them seemed to have noticed whatever Tim had seen. Both had seen Jason, still with the youngest Manson and this suspicious Danny.

Bruce hadn’t waited beyond that, though he trusted Dick’s quick warning that Masters had a bad reputation. One that Bruce had heard too; his business dealings were notoriously predatory.

Whatever leverage he held over former partners, Bruce wouldn’t allow him to get it over his family.

However the man was also known to be a brilliant scientist and engineer, and clearly had an interest in Wayne Enterprises. Bruce could take advantage of that to gather information on Danny.

Finally, finally he spotted the familiar white flash of Jason’s hair in the middle of the floor. He was accompanied by Sam and a scrungly young man with dark hair and blue eyes.

The mysterious Danny.

Time to say hello.

Bruce began to move purposefully through the crowd, not being obvious in his staring but keeping them in the corner of his eye.

**

“Oh shit,” Sam hissed suddenly, grip tightening on Danny’s arm, “Bruce is on his way.”

Danny’s eyes widened and he didn’t quite look all around, but only just. He looked to Jason instead.

“Do we wanna do this now?” He asked, shaking out his shoulders like they were talking about an actual fight.

Jason paused and mulled it over. Dinner would be starting soon, and honestly? If they held Bruce off til then, he couldn’t come for a “private chat” for at least another two hours.

Which would be pretty fucking funny. Especially since Selina had been winding him up.

On the other hand, Bruce wouldn’t have more than ten minutes to interrogate them, and Jason could wind the man up himself.

Jason leaned in until his lips almost brushed Danny’s ear, voice low so they couldn’t be overheard by anyone but Sam, who also leaned in.

“How much do we look like we’ve been passionately making out?” He asked softly, wicked glee in his voice. At least, that’s what Danny thought he said.

It was a little hard to focus with his breath tickling across sensitive skin.

Sam stifled a laugh but Danny almost missed it as he glanced over, catching Bruce Wayne’s eye. And the sudden, intense glare.

A startled squeak slipped free and he grabbed Jason and Sam and vanished.

At least Jason wouldn’t see him blush.

**

Across the hall, Damian’s eyes narrowed.

He’d gotten himself a good vantage point, half way up the stairs so that his relative height wouldn’t be against him.

He could see the whole hall clearly, easily able to track Todd and his cohorts. The dramatics reminded him of one of Todd’s books too, so he was sure the man was having the time of his life.

Right until Fenton grabbed both of his companions and all three disappeared. As if they’d just turned invisible.

Fenton was some form of meta. And something had startled him. Tracing back along the direction he’d been facing, Damian caught sight if Father.

Talking to the Kyle woman.

**

“Selina,” Bruce acknowledged, attention snapped away from Danny Fenton as Selina slunk up to his side, her smile wide and satisfied.

“Bruce. I thought I should come and let you know about the mood in the room,” she purred, hand slipping through his arm.

Eyes narrowed, Bruce glanced up to where Jason had been. His face much, much too close to Danny’s.

All three young people were gone.

Sighing softly in irritation, he returned his attention to Selina.

“Oh? And what is that?” He asked, trying not to let his annoyance rub off on her. She couldn’t have known.

Selina smiled up at him, her other hand coming up to pat gently at his chest.

“Rumour has it Vlad Masters is after your Jason. He’s invited him back to his castle to “get to know each other a little better”,” she purred, fingers flicking against him for the air quotes.

Bruce’s eyes narrowed.

“Why?” He asked sharply, now sweeping the room for Masters’ ponytail.

Selina shrugged elegantly, tweaking his tie before moving back.

“Who can say? Perhaps he’s after the same thing as the Mansons, hoping Jason and young Danny will hit it off. Perhaps it’s a little more… personal,” she mused, a half smile on his face.

Bruce’s expression pinched tighter for just a moment, but he didn’t bother pasting a smile back on. He was allowed to be worried for his son.

Especially if a man old enough to be his father was inviting him away.

“And what did Jason say?” He asked half to himself rather than to her, once again furiously searching the crowd for Jason.

Selina shrugged again, also scanning the crowd.

“Well, he’s been keeping himself quite busy with the small town guests. Perhaps he’s growing tired of Gotham,” she mused, watching Bruce from the corner of her eye.

He knew he twitched. Kept the rest of the response under control.

He wasn’t sure which was worse; Jason building a harem, being courted by an older man, or just plain wanting to leave… no, none of it was good.

The worst part… was that Bruce wouldn’t blame him.

Jason couldn’t be allowed to leave. He just couldn’t. No matter what else happened, Jason needed to be close enough for his family to keep an eye on him.

However good he thought his control of the pit was, it kept slipping. And the chances that Jason would do some serious damage were bad enough in Gotham itself, never mind across the country.

Gotham held so many bad memories, too many of them Bruce’s own doing. Gods, he wished he could safely let Jason go and get him out of that environment. Somewhere far from bad habits.

Though Jason was reluctant enough to leave just Crime Alley. He loved Gotham, and always had, despite what it had cost him. At least if he wanted to leave, Bruce had a plan.

And the fact that he actually would prefer it if Jason were just sleeping around… wasn’t one Bruce was prepared to deal with. He would absolutely not be admitting any of it to Alfred.

Looking back to Selina, his eyes narrowed.

“That wasn’t an answer. Why would Jason want to leave Gotham?” He almost demanded, stepping into her space this time.

Selina did not look impressed, lips pursing and a single brow rising pointedly as she looked him over.

“Why, I don’t know, Bruce. Can you think of anything that might be making him feel unwelcome? Unappreciated? He never did like the limelight,” she remarked coolly, and that cut deeper than her claws.

“The gala was his idea,” he tried to defend himself, not thinking about the first part of her question. Jason had wanted his official life back.

Selina tutted softly, reaching up to pat him on the cheek. That was her slightly pitying smile too.

She knew him far too well.

“You know you won’t get his motivations from talking to me, Bruce. If you want to know what Jason’s thinking you’ll have to ask him yourself. Today’s probably a good time,” she added slyly, half turning away, “after all, you know how soothing a little… exercise can be.”

And then she was gone again, swaying away into the crowd. Bruce took a moment to collect himself before following, closing his eyes and drawing in a deep breath.

It would be fine.

He’d been planning his speech for tonight for weeks. Since Jason had first voiced the idea to Dick.

Bruce knew he was no good at bearing his soul. Open heart to hearts with his children had always been his greatest struggle, and he knew it weighed on them all.

He loved them with all of his heart, and it was maybe that which made it so difficult to just… let himself be vulnerable. He never knew what to say. How to express the depths of emotion.

But he would fix that today, he’d promised himself. He would tell Jason how much he loved him in front of the world.

**

Narrowed eyes being the only outward sign of irritation, Damian hurried down the stairs and through the crowd.

There was no point going directly to Father; he would likely be distracted with the Kyle woman for a while yet. No, he had to find one of his siblings.

Surely one of them had noticed. Todd was to be the center of their attention for the evening. One of them must also have been watching when he disappeared into thin air.

Grayson first, he decided, ducking and weaving between the much taller adults. He was the most competent, and the most invested in Todd’s new behaviour.

Grayson must have seen.

**

Danny gave Jason and Sam an embarrassed grin as he popped them back into visibility behind a plant.

“Sorry… Bruce caught me looking and I kinda panicked?” He offered sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. It was kinda adorable.

Sam rolled her eyes and flicked him upside the head.

“Dude, you’ve gotta learn to chill. One day someone’s gonna see that,” she reprimanded him.

Jason cocked a brow, resisting the urge to pat himself down and check he was tangible again. They’d gone directly through more than one guest on their way to a quiet corner.

“Does this happen a lot?” He asked dryly, fighting down a smile. It was quite possibly the funniest startle response he’d ever seen.

Danny’s cheeks flushed and he looked away, pointedly looking at the floor.

“Not so much any more?” He offered, and Sam snickered.

“He told you how many times he phased through glassware when he first changed, right?” She teased. Danny gave her a half hearted shove and she laughed, shoving back much harder.

Jason did his very best impression of innocence, raising both hands.

“I’m gonna plead the fifth. We should go make sure we’re spotted though, just in case anyone saw,” he added, giving the room another quick scan.

There was no real commotion, no one looking this way and that like they were trying to find someone.

It might be okay.

**

Damian caught up to Cass and Dick just as Dick was wrapping up a particularly colourful story about repainting the manor that was probably at least half true.

Cass wasn’t completely sure, but it would explain the rule about paint rollers being used from the floor or not at all.

Damian was frustrated though, all tight and tense and trembling with self satisfaction. Which wasn’t actually all that unusual, but she wouldn’t say it.

He walked straight up to her, full of determination.

“Cain. Grayson. I need to speak to you,” he demanded bluntly, ignoring the two couples still laughing over Dick’s story.

Cass and Dick exchanged curious looks, and Cass shrugged. Dick turned back to their audience, grinning broadly.

“Well, big brother duty never sleeps. We’ll see you around!” He declared with a jaunty wave, turning to follow Damian. “What’s up, kiddo? It’s nearly dinner time.”

Damian gave him a scathing look and Cass hid a smile. None of them did well with stuffy parties.

Once the youngest decided they’d come far enough from listening ears, he stopped and turned back to hiss.

“Fenton is a meta. He and perhaps Manson as well. I saw them disappear in the crowd.”

Brows furrowed, Dick glanced to Cass again. She frowned, thinking back to what she’d seen of both Amity Parkers. There hadn’t been anything out of the ordinary in their body language.

Unless you thought they were supposed to be civilians, but that wasn’t strange. Not in her circles.

Damian was sure though, so she shrugged again. Dick turned back to Damian, grinning consolingly.

“Hey, I know it’s embarrassing, but Jason’s always been a sneaky bastard. It’s not a big deal to lose them.”

Which was the other option. But the way Damian’s eyes narrowed, anger cranking up and then being choked back down… he was sure.

“I did not say I lost them, Richard! I said I saw them disappear. In front of my eyes. Whether it was some teleportation or just invisibility, I saw them,” he spit out, giving them both a fierce glare.

Cass hesitated, glancing across the hall.

It was… busy. Not exactly packed, but there were enough people, the patterns too random to predict… no.

She’d have noticed someone invisible stepping their way through. There were ways one had to move to avoid being struck if no one could see you.

In a place like this? Not even she would try it in the middle of the floor. This was where you took the high road, or hugged the walls.

Looking back to her brothers, she carefully signed, her body hiding her hands from the crowd.

‘Teleport. Where?’

Dick accepted her analysis as simple fact, frowning thoughtfully and looking around. Damian looked viciously gleeful to be vindicated.

“If they’re still here, it’d have to be short range. Probably somewhere quiet, somewhere they’d been. How long ago?” He asked Damian, and the boy didn’t even glance at his watch.

“Not more than three minutes. You are easy to find.”

“I’m not trying not to be, Dami,” Dick corrected easily, looking around the hall again. “Odds are they’d have gone for the back, so we’ll head that way.”

Which was a really solid plan. Until they stepped back into the crowd and immediately ran into Jason, Danny, and Sam, talking to Tim and Tucker.

**

Bumping into Tucker and Tim had been a fun coincidence, and Danny wasn’t about to miss the chance to catch up. Sure, they’d not been apart long, but a lot had happened.

First of all…

“What happened to your shoulder Tim?” Jason asked “innocently”, something just on this side of sincere worry in his eyes.

Tim made a face, rolling his shoulder and carefully cupping it.

“Oh, nothing. Just a bit of an overenthusiastic greeting by someone called Vlad,” he said nonchalantly, shooting Danny a sly smile. “He thought I was someone else.”

For just the briefest second, that hot flare of Obsession hit Jason again. Protect-mine-how dare he.

But Danny was used to those kinds of reactions; mostly from personal experience. If he even thought his friends were hurt in an attack, things got… intense.

He let his aura spread enough to stroke across Jason’s again, not moving closer while they were the center of attention. He felt the flash of surprise, and something… else?

Something softer, none of the alarm he’d felt when he’d filled the room. He stroked calm-safe-amused-he’s faking back anyway and watched Jason’t shoulders settle.

Felt a wash of embarrassed-amused-sorry more directed his way, and smiled to himself. Jason was getting good at this pretty fast.

Sam, Tuck, and Tim had kept the conversation going while they had their little halfa moment, chatting just a little louder than they should about Tim’s encounter.

Just so their neighbours could hear them without having to strain, of course.

That would be rude.

Slotting back into the conversation was easy, and honestly? Tim was also a pretty cool guy to hang out with. Danny was a little surprised by how much fun he was having.

It just went to show, the galas of nightmares could be pretty fun with friends.

There was definitely something about to start though, because people were beginning to move more pointedly towards the large doors opposite the stairs. The dining hall, if Danny remembered right.

Right. Dinner.

It was probably that which brought Damian, Dick, and Cass to join them. Dick launched easily into the story of their own encounter with Vlad and okay, being funny as fuck clearly ran in the family.

Damian was a little off though. Until he actually met Bruce, Danny couldn’t say for sure, but for now? Maybe the Waynes were just the unfunny ones.

That or something was bugging him, because he had a tight frown on his face. And… was… kinda staring at Danny.

Half an eye on the kid, Danny casually shifted away to the right. The glare followed, so yeah - gonna say that was for him.

It was kinda cute really. For all the kid wanted to play tough guy and pretend he didn’t care, he basically radiated a protective suspicion for Jason.

Danny had to admit he’d been weird enough when he thought anyone was threatening Jazz or his friends, so he couldn’t complain. Just felt strange to be on the other side of.

Just as they were approaching the wide open doors, the Mansons popped up again, absolutely beaming to see Sam surrounded by the full crop of Waynes.

“I’m so happy to see you all getting along, poor Samantha does get so lonely at these events sometimes,” Pamela trilled happily, patting her daughter on the shoulder.

Sam, Manson Party Smile in place, glanced at the hand like she was seriously considering biting it. Danny hid a grin of his own.

“We’re sorry to break up the party, but we should be getting our two off to our table,” Jeremy explained, giving Sam a beaming smile and pretending Danny didn’t exist.

Jason cut in immediately, bestowing a charming smile on both of them and offering Sam his hand. Which she gave a sidelong look to, then slowly took.

Pamela’s eyes all but whirred like camera lenses as she locked onto the gesture.

“Actually, I was just about to invite Sam to join me at our table? And Danny too of course,” Jason added as an afterthought, also not looking for Danny.

For the best, because he wasn’t sure he could hold in all the giggles. No chance of the Mansons noticing anyway, because they were on cloud nine.

“Oh, how wonderful! It would certainly give you some more time to get to know each other,” Pamela gushed, the hand on Sam’s shoulder giving her daughter a sudden little shove closer to Jason.

As if there was any chance she might have missed the super subtle parental semaphore all evening.

And Sam deserved an Oscar.

Glancing up to Jason, she let the Party Smile slip more into a real, shy one, quickly looking away like she didn’t want to be caught looking.

“Yeah, okay. Sounds good,” she said quietly, her grip tightening just a little.

If Danny hadn’t known she’d never been shy in a relationship in her life he could have easily bought into this Bridgerton bullshit. As it was, he and Tuck exchanged grins, wishing for popcorn.

Jeremy took his wife by the arm before she could dissolve into delighted tittering, inclining his head to the group.

“I’m sure we’ll see you after dinner then. Have fun,” he told Sam, and for just a moment he sounded so sincerely proud that Sam’s grip tightened in Jason’s.

Then they were gone and she groaned melodramatically, dropping said hand and glaring at Tucker and Danny.

“Not a word,” she snapped, eyes narrowed. Both boys immediately raised their hands in abject surrender.

“Whatever would we even say?” Tuck asked innocently. Beside him Tim snickered.

“That your parents clearly read even more period romances than Jason?” He offered, and Sam’s eyes narrowed at him instead.

Then she huffed, folding her arms and dragging Jason’s hand into the crook of her elbow.

“Yeah, yeah. Get me to the table. At least I don’t have to listen to them gushing for an hour,” she grumbled, actual sadness flicking across her eyes.

Jason slipped his hand free and before she could protest, wrapped his arm around her shoulders.

“C’mon, let me tell you about all the times Timmy’s fallen asleep at gala dinners,” he said innocently, shooting a wicked grin at his younger brother as he turned them away to keep walking.

Tim’s smile dropped immediately as they begun to walk, hurrying around so he could glare at Jason and walk backwards.

“Don’t you fucking dare Jason. I still have pictures of the Discowing incident,” he threatened, and unfortunately for him only made Jason grin broader.

“You did, until Babs owed me a favour,” he teased back and Tim’s eyes narrowed, hands jumping to his phone.

“Fuck off she did not, she wouldn’t,” he grumbled as he fell behind, Dick landing a companionable hand on the back of his neck to steer him along with them.

“Discowing incident?” Tucker asked, hurrying up on Jason’s other side.

Jason glanced back over his shoulder, smirking at Dick and Tim.

“Family game night. The loser has to suffer some humiliation, and when I lost they got me one of Nightwing’s old costumes to wear for photos. The one with the v-neck,” he added for explanation.

Coming up on Sam’s other side, his hand in the small of her back, Danny damn near tripped over his feet. He’d have fallen if Sam hadn’t caught him, a smug smirk now on her face.

At least she was feeling better.

Behind them, Dick rolled his eyes while Tucker went searching on his PDA.

“Hey, I still say that was a cool suit. More interesting than all the black spandex the rest of the bat brigade mainline,” he protested, making all three of his brothers scoff.

“Then why did he stop wearing it?” Steph asked, materialising from nowhere to toss an arm around Dick’s shoulders, just as Danny asked,

“Isn’t Nightwing’s current costume mostly black?”

Even Cass giggled, which Danny had already decided was an accomplishment. Dick gave a few half hearted defences while the others needled him, and Tucker made a triumphant noise and passed his PDA to Sam.

She angled it so Danny could see and he had to clap his hand over his mouth to keep from laughing.

“He fought crime in that?!” He exclaimed through his fingers, and Sam raised a pointed brow at him.

“Batman’s underwear are on the outside and this is the line?” She asked sarcastically, then turned and grinned up at Jason. “So when are you introducing me to my new best friend Babs?”

They’d reached a large oval table now… right in the front and center of the room. Right. Wayne table, Jason’s gala.

They were gonna have an audience.

Jason chuckled and grinned down at Sam, moving to pull out a chair for her just off center.

“Absolutely fucking never unless you swear to forget all you’ve heard,” he promised as the rest of his siblings minus Cass rushed around for the other side of the table.

Sam snorted a laugh, taking the seat and letting him tuck her in.

“Look at what I am fucking wearing. Give me the disco suit and I’ll wear that with pride,” she pointed out, gesturing to the mass of bows.

Dick won the race, by diving into the seat Tim had just pulled out and locking his legs underneath it. He leaned immediately across the table and grinned at Sam.

“Are you busy tomorrow?” He asked with a mischievous glint in his eyes. Steph dropped down to sit beside him.

“We could go later tonight?” She offered, and both laughed when Jason flicked a napkin at them, taking his own seat.

“You’re both the fucking worst, and Babs has shit on you too,” he reminded them, with no real effect.

Danny took a seat Sam’s other side, Tucker winding up beside Danny on the curve. That left Tim with a seat almost half opposite Tucker, on the other side of the round.

Further from the main action, but honestly, he took it with good grace. Better than Damian, who despite having the seat on Dick’s other side, near the middle of the table, was still sulking.

Maybe because he’d had to wait for a new chair to be brought? Cass had the other new chair, at Jason’s other side.

No one seemed worried that they’d left the table unbalanced, mostly down at one end.

A couple of attendants had already hurried over with three extra chairs, disappearing again for place settings as the Waynes passed cutlery around.

Danny figured this was what throwing the party (and having more money than your average country) did for you. People didn’t make a fuss when plans changed.

The hall was still pretty loud, people finding their seats and getting comfortable. Across the table Dick leaned forward, grinning broadly at Sam and Danny.

“So, we know about Sam and her folks. What about you, Danny? Do you have any family nearby?” He asked, ignoring a warning look from Jason.

Danny appreciated it, but he didn’t really mind. Odds on, he’d be getting to know Jason’s family better at some point. They seemed pretty close.

“Nah, my sister’s studying psychology in Star City and both parents are still in Illinois. We sort of spread out.” Not least so both he and Jazz could have some time away from home.

Time to pretend to be normal. And somewhere nobody knew the name Fenton.

Dick nodded cheerfully, but Danny didn’t miss how both Damian and Steph’s eyes had narrowed. They were gonna remember what he said for later.

Fun. Maybe he should be doing some interrogating back.

Dick had already moved on though, still with that charming smile.

“Can’t say I know much about that, the furthest I got from home was Bludhaven,” he said companionably, tugging Damian in for a hug. “Can’t let the little ones do without their biggest brother.”

Damian squirmed viciously, sputtering protests, and Steph laughed and pulled Dick into a headlock.

“Jason’s bigger,” she teased, and Danny couldn’t help glancing over from the corner of his eye.

Jason was a lot bigger. In just about every direction. To be fair, Jason was bigger than some cars.

Dick squirmed free with surprising flexibility, releasing Damian who huffed and corrected his outfit immediately. Danny figured it was as good a time as any to do some sleuthing back.

“Bludhaven, huh? What do you do there?”

“I’m a cop,” Dick answered with an easy shrug. “I guess I got in the habit of wrangling these little bastards.”

Sam snorted a laugh beside him and Danny hid a grin in his hands. He was probably gonna regret that.

“You grew up in Gotham and became a cop?” She asked, heavy with derision. Beside Danny Tucker snickered, leaning over to whisper to Tim.

“And you thought you had it bad before.” Which, yeah. ACAB was Sam’s other favourite mantra after Eat The Rich.

Dick shrugged again, not losing his cheerful grin yet and spread his hands.

“That’s kinda why I did it. There were always so many corrupt cops, I wanted there to be at least someone that people could count on,” he explained like it might save him.

Sam stifled most of the second laugh.

“Oh, sorry, I thought you said you became a cop, not a firefighter. Is he a snitch too?” She asked Steph, who looked like Christmas had either come a little late or extremely early.

“Not to Bruce, but he did threaten to arrest me for parking near a fire route,” she said with a wicked grin.

Decidedly pouting now, Dick threw both hands into the air.

“I was kidding! I didn’t actually arrest her!” He argued as the rest of the table booed. Even Damian.

“Just another corrupt cop,” Sam sighed, shaking her head. Dick opened and closed his mouth a few times, then frowned.

“Wait so I’m a snitch if I do arrest people and corrupt if I don’t? How am I supposed to win?” He complained, the pout still mostly playful.

Sam stared him dead in the eye, devoid of mercy.

“Not be a cop.”

Dick groaned dramatically and Steph laughed, reaching over to pinch his cheeks.

“Hey, we told you when you joined,” she pointed out cheerfully and Dick sighed.

“Well, yeah, but the system’s not gonna change if no one ever does anything, is it?”

Tucker and Danny exchanged looks. Grins. And were slightly surprised when Jason beat Sam to the punch.

“Corrupt systems don’t change from the inside, Dickie,” he said with a smirk. Dick pointed an accusatory finger at him.

“Hey, you can’t talk. He likes Red Hood,” he explained as an aside to the Amity Parkers as if it might help his case.

Jason spread his hands, grinning.

“Hey, I came from the Alley, I’m allowed to appreciate a guy cleaning it up. Which the cops never even tried,” he added smugly. Dick huffed.

“Red Hood killed people.”

“So do the police,” Sam pointed out with a smirk of her own and Dick deflated.

“Red Hood stopped,” Jason joined in, jumping on the moment of weakness. “I bet his bodycount is less than Bludhaven PD’s.”

Steph and Tim both snickered at that, although Danny wasn’t quite sure why. It seemed a little more innuendo ridden than just enjoying Dick’s suffering.

And Jason’s cheeks definitely pinked. But he ignored them. Yeah, Danny had some follow up questions for later.

From Jason’s other side, Cass signed something that Danny couldn’t quite catch from this angle, but Steph nodded quickly.

“Yeah, good point Cass. She wants to know what you guys think about vigilantes,” she explained, looking expectantly at Sam.

Who frowned for a moment, then shrugged.

“At least they’re getting something done. But someone needs to look into Batman hoarding children,” she said dryly, and most of the table snickered.

“I think most of them follow him,” Tim pointed out in an effort to be fair. Steph and Jason both made faces at him and he flipped them both off.

“But do you have a favourite of Gotham’s vigilantes?” asked Dick, leaping onto the subject change with both feet.

Danny cast a quick glance at Jason, but he looked about as entertained as the rest of the table. It must have been something they talked about a lot.

Or the rest of the Waynes were the rest of the bats. But Danny didn’t want to assume… unless it would be funny.

Without the key of Jason’s old Robin connection, Sam and Tucker probably wouldn’t get there.

Sam was pursing her lips, probably thinking about her options. She’d know more of them than him or Tucker, but Danny figured he knew most of the big players.

“Black Bat,” she finally decided, leaning back in her seat, “but Batwoman definitely fucks.”

This was met with general agreement, Danny frowning for a moment. He’d not had many bat sightings since moving to Gotham, but…

“She definitely says fuck,” he agreed with a snicker. Sam punched his shoulder.

“You can’t talk. Who’s your favourite, new town boy?”

Rubbing his arm and feigning great injury, Danny stuck his tongue out at her. Thought for a moment longer.

“Signal’s pretty great,” he decided, tipping his chair back for a moment to frown at the ceiling, “I passed by the mall after a rogue attack one time and he was teaching the kids to do flips.”

“After the rogue was in custody?” Steph asked, but she was still grinning. Danny shrugged.

“I dunno, I don’t talk to cops.”

Dick let out another wounded groan and Sam snickered, then leaned forward to look at Tucker.

“How about you?”

Tucker hesitated for a moment, clearly torn. Then he visibly drew in his courage and looked around the table expectantly.

“Have you guys heard of the Oracle?” He asked, voice heavy with anticipation. The surrounding Gothamites stilled, watching him expectantly.

Sam rolled her eyes.

“If you’re not wearing spandex are you even a vigilante?” She asked dryly. Tucker flipped her off.

“Hey, Oracle’s done more for this city than any of the bats! More for the whole world!”

“It’s a legend in the hacker community,” Danny “explained”, keeping an eye on Dick and Steph as the two opposite him. And less obviously hacker connected.

If they were the bats and Oracle existed, they’d know.

“They’re a master hacker that can break any system, any time, and gathers all the evidence to put people like Roman Sionis behind bars,” Tucker said, taking over the explanation.

With his usual dramatic aplomb, planting both hands flat on the table and leaning forward impressively, his voice low and conspiratorial.

“No one knows who they are or anything about them. You just find their tracks sometimes, especially when there’s a really big rogue attack or someone gets busted too soon.”

“Sounds kinda like a rumour,” Dick offered with a small shrug, glancing at Tim. “How about you, Tim? Have you heard of an Oracle?”

Tim hesitated for a moment, just long enough for Steph to snicker.

“Guess if there is one they don’t bother with Bludhaven PD,” she said smugly, dodging when Dick swung half heartedly at her. “Police brutality!”

Dick groaned whole heartedly as the others laughed, sinking back into his seat.

“But seriously, why doesn’t anyone like Nightwing?” He grumbled, arms folded as he pouted at his siblings. “He was on the scene before it was cool.”

‘Before he had to be cool,’ Cass signed, shuffling a little further around the curve of the oval so the rest of the table could see her.

Dick’s head snapped up when Steph and Sam laughed harder, pouting at his sister.

“Hey! Not fair when I’m not looking!”

‘Pay attention then,’ she signed back, her expression all sweet and studied innocence.

At the other end of the table Tucker decided to take a little pity on the guy.

“Nightwing’s okay. I liked that suit,” he said with a shrug and a grin. Dick straightened in his seat, grinning over at him.

“Finally, a man of distinction and taste!”

“Cops don’t get opinions,” Sam smirked, leaning forward to grin at Tucker, “so what’s your excuse?”

Tucker stuck his nose in the air, pointedly looking away from her.

“We’re not all goth, Sam. Some of us have heard of colours.”

“Spoiler wears purple,” Tim put in helpfully, pulling up a picture to show him. Tucker leaned in for a moment, then nodded.

“Yeah that’s pretty cool too. Capes are in,” he added, shooting a meaningful look at Danny. Who rolled his eyes, both hands in the air.

“And when they come in for those of us not wearing identity obscuring masks, I’ll wear one,” he replied dryly. Tucker pshawed at him, waving a hand.

“You’re in Gotham, how weird would it be?” He asked off handedly. Danny sighed and then looked pointedly around the rest of the table.

“Weird?” Steph offered, shrugging.

“Pretty fuckin’ weird,” Jason agreed and Danny folded his arms and grinned at Tucker.

“I’m not breaking my win streak by letting some rogue mistake me for a bat. You wear a cape while you’re here,” he said, sticking out his tongue.

Whatever Tucker was about to say was lost when Dick sat up sharply, face bright with renewed enthusiasm.

“Wait, Danny, does that mean you haven’t been in a rogue attack before?” He asked eagerly, which was just a little too fucking weird.

Even weirder, the rest of the Gothamites looked equally excited. Even Damian managed a smug anticipation around his piercing stare.

Danny felt kind of like he was in a freak show display case.

“Uh… yeah? But I bet loads of people in Gotham haven’t and it’s only been a year…” his excuses were immediately batted away as Steph clasped her hands in front of her.

“Oh that means tonight is gonna be your first! That’s so exciting!” She squealed happily.

Danny and Tucker gave her weird looks, but to their surprise it was Sam who answered, sighing and leaning back in her seat.

“At least one rogue always attacks a gala,” she explained, waving a hand around them, “it’s all of Gotham’s wealthiest in one place. It’s why we don’t come here much,” she added, eyes narrowing in frustration.

Beside her Jason frowned down at her. Probably trying to work out the frustration.

“Because they don’t think it’s safe? One of the bats always deals with it,” he added when Tucker and Danny still looked confused.

Sam snorted and shook her head.

“Because they think I’ll start something during the attack,” she huffed, folding her arms and glaring at Tucker and Danny. Daring them to comment.

Tucker, unafraid of death with Danny between them, snickered.

“You’ll finish something during the attack,” he corrected, ignoring the suddenly concerned looks from the Gothamites.

Sam’s eyes narrowed further but she let the comment stand. Steph leaned forward a little, looking nervous for the first time.

“It’s usually better not to get involved?” She offered, sounding almost apologetic. “The rogues can be pretty dangerous and you don’t want to call attention to yourself.”

“I doubt that would be an issue,” Damian snapped, eyes narrowed as he trained that glare on Sam instead of Danny.

She stared him down, then nodded sharply.

“He gets it. Anyway, you don’t have to worry, I got the lecture half a dozen times when we flew in. “No punching assholes, or any criminals”,” she mimicked her mom’s perky tones, heavily sarcastic air quotes stretched alongside.

Stifling a grin, Danny suddenly noticed something.

“Hey wait, I didn’t get the no punching speech?”

“Maybe they’re hoping you die in the rogue attack,” Tucker snickered, shooting Jason a sly grin.

There was, predictably, that Obsessive flare of protection-guard-still funny and Danny kicked Tucker under the table for it.

He already wasn’t happy about the whole Fright Knight thing, better not to belabour it. Almost before he reached for Jason, he felt the other man reaching back though.

Grinned in spite of himself at that first careful brush.

Safe-home-I’m fine

Smug-strong-damn fucking right you are

“They’d be a little late to that request,” Danny shot back at Tucker instead, even as he winced from the kick.

About half the table groaned, which Danny personally considered unfair, since the Gothamites hadn’t heard his death jokes before.

Right up until Tim ran both hands through his hair, looking from Danny to Jason in amused exasperation.

“Great, there’s two of you. Are bad puns a side effect of the Lazarus pit too?” He asked dryly.

“No because if it was puns, it’d be Dick,” Jason shot back just as fast and Dick groaned, letting his head flop forwards onto the table.

“Did I just not get the memo that it’s “Bully Dick Day” or something?” He moaned plaintively, still overacting enough that Danny wasn’t worried they’d actually upset him.

And when Jason leaned over and flicked the top of his head, equally unconcerned.

“Consider it revenge for almost a decade of godawful puns, Dickiebird,” he told him bluntly, and Dick groaned louder.

“Betrayed by my own brethren… abandoned by my flesh and blood…”

“We are not your flesh and blood,” Damian reminded him sharply - and possibly unwisely, since it prompted Dick to flop over onto him instead and wail louder.

“Denounced! Deserted! Thrown to the gutters!” He howled at increasing volume.

Damian threw all attempts at dignity to the wind, struggling to fight his brother off without falling out of his chair. Dick just threw more of his weight over, both chairs beginning to rock dangerously.

There was now muffled laughter from more than just their own table in the background. This only seemed to encourage Dick, right up until someone cleared their throat into the microphone.

Damian took immediate advantage of his hesitation and shoved Dick off him and to the floor. Danny and the rest of the table looked up into the surprisingly stern face of Brucie Wayne.

Who then smiled.

“So, with that bit of rough housing out of the way… I promise I will let you all get to your meals shortly, but I have a couple of things to say first. I’ll do my best to keep it short and sweet.”

Dick scrambled back into his seat and Danny glanced along the table, wondering what was going on. The party was just to show Jason was back, right?

Jason was sat right here.

And had apparently caught wind of his confusion, catching his eye and half smirking.

“It’ll be a couple minutes. Then I have a speech, then we’re done and it’s just food, more socialising, and shaking hands with 90% of high society,” he explained quietly, leaning down to Sam and Danny as Bruce spoke.

Sam didn’t seem concerned, so Danny settled in as well to watch. There might be some fun baby Jason stories.

And y’know? It was a pretty standard speech. Talking about his beloved son, how hard it had been when he was gone, how happy Bruce had been to find him.

Danny found himself glancing over at Jason a couple of times, the beginning of a smile tugging at his lips. Jason looked mostly unmoved, smiling along at appropriate points, but not engaged.

Until.

“And I can only say how sorry I am that I wasn’t there when he needed me the most,” Bruce ended softly, eyes meeting Jason’s from the podium.

The younger man went white so fast Danny almost thought he’d transformed. Sam’s nails bit into the table.

“That’s the first time he’s said that, isn’t it?” She snarled, just low enough to go under the genteel applause all around them.

Danny flicked his aura out across Jason and he visibly started, then turned to glance at them. Nodded once. And started to stand.

Sam’s hand snapped over like a whip before he’d pushed the chair back, her voice low and deathly serious.

“Jason Todd we met today but if you go up there right now and say anything even like that you forgive him, that man is leaving here tonight in a Fenton thermos.”

Danny rolled his eyes, leaning over and nudging his hand under hers as the applause began to fade, eyes beginning to turn their way.

“Can’t put living humans in the thermos, Sam,” he hissed, sending a gentle pulse of reassurance-calm-we’ve got you through his fingertips to Jason.

The other halfa looked surprised for a moment, then shot him a grateful smile, hand turning to touch both of theirs as he rose. Sam turned her fixed smile on Danny, now holding both of their hands.

“I did not say he would still be living, Danny,” she said firmly and Jason stifled a laugh, his aura brightening to amused-shocked-touched.

Beat the hell out of the gaping, painful hole it had been. Danny caught his fingers for a last second before Jason pulled away, grinning at them both.

“I appreciate the backup, but I’ve got this. I know how to handle him,” Jason said softly, coming around behind their seats.

One hand brushed across the back of Danny’s neck, though who he was grounding Danny couldn’t say. And as he moved up to the podium himself, Danny damn near believed him.

Couldn’t argue with the open sincerity Bruce was putting out either though.

Tugging their hands back off the table, he leaned in to whisper to Sam.

“The fuck was that about? At least he finally said sorry?”

Sam closed her eyes for a long moment, visibly reigning in her temper.

“I fucking hate that manipulative bullshit, Danny. It’s the same crap as a public proposal; he gets to be the good guy, and all the pressure is on Jason to act the right way, do the acceptable thing, or he’s the villain. It’s fucked up and it’s a cruel way to force the answer you want from someone if you don’t think they’d give it,” she snarled, eyes still fixed on Bruce as he moved to the side of the stage.

Danny stared at her for a long moment, then sunk back into his seat, Tucker visibly deflating alongside him. He’d never thought of it like that.

Tucker let out a low, uneasy whistle as Jason took the microphone.

“Sooooooo, note for Val, no public proposals?” He offered in a whisper, and Danny giggled in spite of himself.

Sam kicked him in the shins, fighting her own smile, still staring at Jason.

“Shut up.”

**

Jason was gonna buy Sam a coffee. Six coffees. Maybe more.

He just… he’d seen Bruce’s speech. They’d read each others, both gone through them with Alfred to make sure they were concise, charming, and appropriate.

Bruce had asked for his green light on every story.

The apology hadn’t been in it.

Fuck, his head was still spinning in a thousand different directions and he could barely even feel the pit. He felt shocky, shaky even now, going through the motions.

Smile and wave.

He didn’t know what he’d have said or done if Sam hadn’t grabbed him. If he could have said anything at all. But it had helped. Brought him back to himself.

And an imminent offer to murder Bruce, which he sorely appreciated even if he was pretty sure Bruce hadn’t actually been hoping to force him into anything.

The guy was a master manipulator of his own image, but… he wouldn’t do that to them. To any of his children, no matter how much Jason sometimes doubted that he still counted.

There was something in the way their eyes met, the way his voice softened even on mic. A tenderness that Jason actually believed, in spite of himself.

And how fucked up was that, that it was easier for Bruce to say sorry in a mask, in front of a couple hundred people, than just to Jason alone? That it took a crowd for him to admit he’d failed?

No. Jason wasn’t going to forgive him. Not the easy out of a public reconciliation and then everything going magically back to normal.

Fuck, he wanted to. Wanted to fall into Bruce’s arms, be fifteen again when his dad was always right and strong and had all the answers.

Wanted to say the words and have the fairytale moment.

But even without the pit screaming bloody vengeance he knew it wouldn’t be true. Saying sorry was never what he’d wanted from Bruce, and he hadn’t expected it.

He wanted to know he’d mattered. Wanted to know that Bruce had cared, had learned, would never put a fucking kid in that position ever again.

Bruce was more careful now. Tim and Damian and Steph had an extra full book of rules on top of what Dick and Jason had made.

But he still wouldn’t make the hard choices. Still looked down on Jason for taking someone at their word when they said they’d never change, that it’d take death to stop them.

They still had a fucking lot to talk about, even if Jason had stopped killing.

Bruce hadn’t looked away the entire time Jason made his way to the podium. At least, not unless he’d done it in those seconds with Sam and Danny.

He’d moved back and away, giving Jason his space, and he appreciated that. He even managed a small, slightly strained but genuine smile as he stepped up to the mic.

“And on that cheerful note…” he let himself trail off, pulling his own less practiced but still perfect Party Smile on, letting the room in on the joke.

Laughter broke out quickly, breaking the tension that maybe hadn’t all been in Jason’s head. Looking back at Danny, Jason could swear he felt the other man’s relief wash over him.

He was fine. He could make a joke.

Part of him wanted to change his own speech, something to acknowledge what Bruce said, something to throw him off like he’d done to Jason.

But Sam was right; Jason had deserved to hear those words alone first. In private. And when he was ready to move on, that’s how he’d tell Bruce.

Honestly his mind was empty anyway. It was hard enough to remember the practiced speech, and letting himself sink into the familiar words helped steady him.

His speech was shorter. Bruce told their “story”, ostensibly to spare Jason from painful memories. All Jason had to do was say how glad he was to be back.

Talk about all the things he wanted to do for kids that hadn’t gotten as lucky as him. The things he’d do with his second chance… third chance in the eyes of most of the room.

Name a couple of generous future donors Tim had helped him select for bleeding hearts and a love of attention. Although… that’d be an opening.

Hiding a smirk behind the practiced smile, Jason looked around the room until he caught sight of the older Mansons.

“I’ve been thinking a lot about the future,” he added, just at the end of his own speech. Made eye contact with both, looked to the front table, and smiled at Sam.

Yeah, this’d give Bruce a fucking heart attack too. That’d do.

“There’s so much I’ve missed. I don’t want to miss out on anything else. I intend to take every chance this new life gives me with both hands. Especially when it brings new… friends.”

He lingered over the pause, enjoying the way Sam’s grin turned fucking feral. Let his gaze drift sideways to Danny, who had both hands clapped over his mouth to muffle his laughter.

Figured fuck it.

And blew Sam a kiss.

**

Danny stilled, something pinching suddenly tight in his chest.

He’d seen Jason’s lips before. Pretty much every time they’re together, honestly, they spent a lot of time talking. They have so much to talk about.

He’d already seen them laugh, smile, pout, pulled tight in a snarl. All sorts of expressions, and he can just about remember watching old clips of Robin.

Same expressive face, even around a mask. There’s a weight there now that Robin never had though, even when he got more violent.

Dying changed people, and there weren’t many people in the world who knew that more intimately than Danny. Being a teen superhero wasn’t easy either, but being a dead teen hero…

Honestly it was a distinction they shared with way too many of the other young heroes, and Danny got why Jason fucking hated the very concept.

It aged you before your time. Showed you sides of the world no kid should see. Gave you the chance to keep other kids from having to.

Danny thought he’d seen pretty much everything the living world had to offer. The good, the bad, the ugly. But now he was here, looking up at his new friend, and it felt like he’d never seen him before.

There was a part of him that wanted to see Jason smile more, to see the weight lift from his shoulders.

There’s a part of him remembering those lips next to his ear, warm breath stroking across him but not closing the gap.

There’s a part of him that wondered how, even after all he’d been through, Jason still had those smiles in him.

And there’s a part of him as he watched Jason press his fingers to his lips that wondered if they could possibly be as soft as they looked. If Jason had leaned just a hairsbreadth closer…

And yeah, he was going to be denying ownership of every single one of those parts, thank you very much. Especially the one that flickered with just a hint of jealousy.

Jason was a damn fine actor, that much had been clear right from the start of the evening. This was all just for the bit.

There was nothing to be jealous of.

He just. Hadn’t noticed Jason’s lips before. How soft and full they looked, how a smile curved them into something beautiful.

He realised he’d been staring when he caught Jason’s eye, saw those smooth lips twitch into a wider smile. And then Jason was making his way down from the podium.

Back to the table.

Holy fuck Danny was gonna need to be able to string a coherent sentence together by the time he arrived. Even with Sam and Tucker, with Jason’s siblings responses of glee and laughter…

He might not make it.

He just kept getting distracted in the curve of that mischievous smile.

———————————

Biggest thanks to @lehana37 and @wolfjackle for helping me out when I got stuck on this one! It turns out the answer to tricky scenes is still “And then Catwoman was there”.

This last scene is for @jotaroslooseeyebrowhair 😁

Next:

[angelbroad]

SPILLED COFFEE

Fandom: SCP Foundation

Rating: Teen and up audiences

Relationship(s): Dr. Jack Bright/Lotus[fake Dr. Edith Feathers], Dr. Jack Bright/Dr. Edith Feathers

Characters: Dr. Jack Bright (SCP Foundation), Lotus[fake Dr Edith Feathers] (oc), other character(s) mentioned

Tags: hurt/comfort, comfort fic, dealing with grief, crying, bonding, implied relationships, Dr Bright needs a hug, dubious touching, nothing dirty, mild descriptions of violence, flowers, implied character death

Summary: Bright stumbles into Lotus in the hallway and it offers help despite not being asked to.

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Today was going to be a long day. Granted, it’s not like he could do anything fun within the Foundation’s reach anymore thanks to that ridiculously long list.

He was needed for an experiment later that day, so the best thing to do would be to just grab a hot beverage and wait the hours away. Maybe he could go and see Glass too.

He settled for coffee. He lightly blew on it for the hot liquid to become cold enough to drink as he walked merily down the mostly empty hallway. There wasn’t much commotion, suprisingly. Bright was used to the hallways of every building of the Foundation being flooded with researchers and guards, especially with him inside. But maybe he was overthinking things, he needed to find more ways to spend his time other than a cup of coffee. That very much unwelcome distraction came when he slightly sprinted around the corner, only to be met with someone else head first. Both him and the researcher fell to the ground, and the hot beverage was spilled all over the floor. “Ah dammit.” he said, only half-excited, “Now Gears will give me shit again for breaking another mug.”

The other figure got up first, and extended a hand to seemingly help him get up. Bright didn’t look up, and as he tucked on the hand for leverage, it detached from the figure’s body, with the vines that connected them being shown more clearly now. That accursed plant.

“Ah. Sorry.” the once-woman said in a jolly tone, the vines reconnecting the body parts back together with an uneasy squelching sound. Bright got up on his own, refusing to look at anything that wasn’t the spilled coffee on the floor.

The lotus expressed its apologies for the wasted beverage, but they knew that they wouldn’t give the man back his beverage by using only words. They started walking while dragging the red haired man down the hall by the sleeve of his labcoat, leaving him baffled. “What the hell are you doing?!” “I will make you coffee. Replace what was spilled.” the plant couldn’t form sentences properly, but they could still make their words have sense in them. They were walking to the break-room, one of them at least, with the flower leading and Jack reluctantly following the pull on his hand.

As they entered the relatively small room the male researcher took a seat on the table close to the kitchen counter, leaving the other entity to figure out the coffee machine by itself. Watching a plant in someone’s body trying to figure out how to use such simple things would be quite amusing, if that body wasn’t Edith’s. He stared at his hands on the table, toning everything else out. What had happened was, at some degree, predictable. So why did he feel such despair fill his heart? Is it perhaps because..he couldn’t tell his dearest friend his true feelings when she was still here?

----------------------------------------------------------

May 22nd, 2000. Bright and Feathers were heading toward the research area to assist in the SCP-Lotus study. Bright wasn’t sure what he was needed for, except maybe because he was bored and the O5 feared he might pull some antics. They weren’t wrong to assume that, really.

“The last host died about a week ago. We still don’t know if that thing is using the bodies it attaches to or if it’s just feeding off of them.” Edith sighed in annoyance. “Gee, thought you’d be more excited to get back to office!” Jack exclaimed, mimicking the way his friend walked. The dark haired woman tried containing her smile, only to give up and resort to giving him a nudge at the shoulder. She chuckled a little, before her hand reached to touch her left eye, concealed by an eyepatch, upon contact her brows furrowed a bit and her smile dissapeared.

Things had been difficult lately. Having to pluck your own eyeball out to prevent an infection wasn’t exactly ideal, though Feathers argued that for the Foundation it would be seen as just another Saturday, and Bright couldn’t really argue with that. Due to the injury, Edith was off-duty for a few weeks, returning to work only five days ago.

The Foundation is currently breathing down everyone’s necks to figure out exactly what this plant does. From the window overviewing the containment area, Feathers explained that the flower seems sentient enough to move around on its own upon sensing an open area from which it can enter the body of a host. Much like a previously discovered object, scp-035, it has the ability to scramble the host’s brain waves, seemingly altering them. This by its own wouldn’t be anything new, however this particular object kept the host’s body fresh throughout the period of about thirty days, continuously making changes in the brain before eventually causing the body of the host to rapidly decay and proceed to exit their body entirely. The way it functions is still a mystery to everyone.

Soon after, the D-Class for the next test had entered the containment area along with two researchers, including Edith Feathers, and five armed guards.

The D-Class received a wound in his gut, leaving a pathway for the object to enter the body. However, the flower was unmoving. Surprised, Feathers asked the other researcher to take notes. The other gave an affirming nod, while the latter stepped closer to the D-Class, and by extension closer to the flower. As she reached her hand toward the wounded man, the flower sprung to action, using its roots to leap into the air, and found ground in Feathers’ face. The amethyst eyed woman let out a surprised yelp as the object made contact. The guards rushed in to help, but the damage was already done. The vines and roots slipped underneath the eyepatch, finding home inside the hole where Edith’s left eye used to be.

Upon realizing what had happened, the guards escorted the other researcher out of the containment area, Bright watching in disbelief and horror as his friend let out a final gut-wrenching scream while holding onto her head, pulling out her black locks of hair, before finally falling to the ground limp.

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He was brought back to the present by a warm object making contact with his hands. It was a coffee mug, with a reddish-brown liquid inside. He looked up to see the lotus sitting beside him. “I think I figured it out!” it said excited, the vines from the flower pulling the limp mouth into a wide grin, and as the right eye closed he could just barely make out the thorns pulling the eyelid.

Not trusting what it had in store, Bright took a sniff of the liquid “This smells nothing like coffee. What did you put in here?” before the other got to respond, he got up to empty the contents of the mug into the sink. As he turned toward the coffee machine, he saw an open bottle of vinegar tipped over. “Did you...use vinegar to make coffee?” “Well, I saw Iceberg use vinegar for machine yesterday. So figured that is how coffee is made.” He knew this was supposed to be a dangerous entity, but 343 was it stupid. The only reason it was allowed to freely roam was because despite its possibly dangerous abilities, it was generally harmless.

He let out a groan and poured himself a glass of water, and then sat across from the other. He took a sip of the water and pointed at the glass. “This is what we use for coffee, not what you put in there. Iceberg was probably using it to clean the machine.” the vines contorted the mouth to an ‘o’ shape. He gave a sigh, figuring he didn’t have the courage to make another cup of coffee.

As they sat in silence, Bright begun reminiscing about the past. It was just Edith, Simon, and himself, almost an inseperable bunch. She used to make the best coffee for all of them, and she treated Jack more like an actual human instead of just another anomallous entity. A hand touched his own, startling him. It was the lotus. He gave an annoyed sound before seeing the confused expression on the thing’s face. “You are sad.” He turned away to ask the next question, “Why do you care if I am?” “Former cared about you, a lot.” it said pointing at itself, Bright finally turning to look at it.

There was a small pause before the flower continued. “When I go inside host’s brain, I can see the memories, feelings. This one...cared a lot about you. And I feel sad too.” Jack stared at the form in front of him, unable to believe what he was hearing. “What...what do you mean?” he asked. It looked down as it spoke, “Took away loved one. An important person.” it lifted its head back and got up, “But I want to help.” the red haired man could only stare. The lotus moved toward him, and before he could react, he was enveloped into a hug.

“W-What are you doing?!-” “I saw Clef doing this with Kondraki and Say. Comforting gesture.” Bright wasn’t sure if he even wanted this action to happen. He put his glass on the table and let his hands drop on his sides. Still, the hug wouldn’t loosen. He missed this, he missed Edith, he missed everything about their relationship. He knew he would outlive her, but he never wanted her image immotalized by some macabre parasite. Still, it felt so warm. Soon enough, tears started streaming down his face as he pulled the woman in a tighter embrace, and the flower allowed it, simply because it wanted to bring this one good human the comfort he deserved.

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Author's note: About time I brought back SCP! The demo for the new game SCP Files got me so excited and the scp fan inside me has awaken once more. Anyway, have my comfort ship from this fandom ^^

[samstree]

Just a Little Pretense

Jaskier and Geralt stage a fake breakup. Someone’s feelings get hurt for real.

The reverse trope series: [1] [2] [3] [4] [5]

AO3

“… It would be to take you off my hands!”

Geralt’s voice echoes in the ballroom, between the tall walls and the high ceiling. Everyone on the dance floor has fallen into silence. Even the band has stopped playing, their lead singer gaping with round eyes.

Jaskier blinks, impressed.

All the eyes are on the two of them. Jaskier’s back prickles with the gazes. As the fight escalated, more and more guests have stopped dancing just to eavesdrop on the witcher and the bard, the most peculiar couple in the room.

Which is just perfect. The more people witnessing their breakup, the more awkward it will be afterward, and the easier it will be to get out of this tedious party. And here Jaskier is, regretting ever having doubted his dear witcher’s ability to perform.

Who would have thought Geralt is a method actor? Drawing inspiration from a past argument is ingenious.

His old acting professor back in Oxenfurt would approve of this. The show is going swimmingly and he is pumped with adrenaline—maybe he should go back on stage one day, do a play or two.

But alas, he can muse the idea later. The show must go on.

“Really? Just like that?” Jaskier croaks, seemingly on the verge of crying. He’s not so bad himself, classically trained and everything. “Thirty years, Geralt. I followed you for thirty years, and just like that, you will kick me out of your life? Did I ever—” he breaks off with a whimper. “Did I ever mean anything to you? Or were you ready to cast me aside this whole time?”

A tear rolls down. His lips wobble. The crowd erupts in hushed murmurs and sympathetic sighs. The set-up, the build, everything has been perfect. Now the only thing left is for Geralt to break things off, and the two of them can ride into the metaphorical sunset and never see this court again.

Jaskier waits in anticipation, but his witcher opens his mouth.

And closes it.

Geralt looks as upset as he should, angry and torn and equally shocked, his golden eyes wide and his jaw clenched tight. It’s a nice picture to paint for the audience. They are supposedly having the biggest fight in their lives and his body language is very convincing.

More than convincing.

Except, it just might be … too convincing.

Wait—

Jaskier focuses on Geralt, who looks as if he wants to shrink into himself, his shoulders slumped and arms drawn in. He looks as if he’s waiting to be struck. Wait, something’s not right.

“I can’t do this.” A whisper leaves Geralt’s lips, small and achingly sad.

It’s not the line he’s supposed to say.

Geralt’s eyebrows droop ever so slightly, and there’s a flash of distress behind the molten gold. It’s gone in a second, hidden behind a façade of indifference.

The tells are subtle, near imperceivable to the untrained eye, but to Jaskier, they are clear as day—Geralt is hurt. For real.

Oh.

Fuck.

“Geralt,” Jaskier tries, instantly snapped out of his character.

And yet, there’s no reply. Geralt lowers his head, turns around, and flees the scene within one heartbeat and the next. The crowd is too eager to make way for him.

“Shit,” Jaskier curses, ready to chase after Geralt, but the Countess de Stael appears out of nowhere with a flock of maids and positively blocks him in all directions. She’s eager to lament the loss of love and companionship, and to offer Jaskier a place at her court once again. Oh, shit.

Jaskier brushes her off, all the while painfully remembering he and Geralt’s goal from the beginning—to use the breakup as an excuse to get out of this place.

Well, the plan is shit. Is it too late to notice?

Weaving through dozens of nobles is a lot more difficult when they all want to extend sympathy, and Jaskier is only placating them absent-mindedly, faking regret and heartbreak. His mind is full of his witcher, who is either brooding or spiraling over the venom he spewed earlier.

The truth is, Jaskier has long forgotten about the mountain—not because it didn’t hurt. To be shunned by Geralt, blamed for everything, and denied friendship, was the worst thing to have happened to him at the time. It’s just that Jaskier has forgiven it, so long ago and so completely.

Jaskier cannot get to their room fast enough, and when he pushes open the door, the sight of Geralt’s dejected face is a stab through the chest. The witcher is perched on the bed, somehow looking a lot smaller than he is.

Jaskier never should have come up with the stupid fake breakup thing, never should have inadvertently reopened the old wound. They healed, together. They shouldn’t be hurting anymore.

“I explained. We can leave now,” Jaskier tires, but in fairness, he doesn’t remember what he said to the Countess. “Geralt?”

The witcher himself crosses his arms, hugging his midriff and avoiding Jaskier’s gaze. “Good,” he answers curtly, shoulders still tense.

He looks angry, and when Geralt is angry, it’s most likely with himself. Oh, whatever heartbreak Jaskier acted out earlier, it’s not a match to a fraction of what he’s feeling now. It must be the one millionth time Geralt’s self-loathing has broken Jaskier’s heart, and it never gets easier, not when Jaskier caused it himself.

“Hey.” Jaskier desperately wants to wrap his arms around Geralt. So he does. He sits down on the bed and pulls his witcher into the biggest bear hug, which is returned immediately and so very tightly. “Hey, it’s okay. It’s okay. I’m sorry. I fucked up, Geralt. I’m—”

“Don’t be.” Geralt buries his nose into Jaskier’s neck and shakes his head. “I never should have said those things, Jask. I should be the one apologizing. It was wrong and untrue and I would never abandon you. You are my best friend. How can I ever? Please, believe me…”

Geralt trails off, his hands rubbing circles into Jaskier’s back. Although it’s unclear who he’s trying to soothe.

“I know. It’s okay. I know,” Jaskier murmurs, over and over again, sealing each reassurance with a kiss pressed into silver hair.

“I never meant it, Jask.”

“I know. It was fake. We were pretending.”

Geralt pulls away, golden eyes dead serious, pausing between every word. “I never meant it.”

Jaskier meets his gaze unwaveringly, with not an ounce of doubt. “I know.”

They stay there for a while, just holding each other. Geralt keeps sniffing Jaskier’s scent the same way he always does to check for injury or distress. He thinks he’s subtle, the sweet man, so Jaskier never mentions it.

Despite what an outsider might assume, Geralt is the sensitive one between the two. He’s so careful when it comes to their relationship, especially after the mountain and sometimes to his own detriment.

He’s so scared of hurting Jaskier again.

“I was an idiot for suggesting it,” Jaskier breaks the silence, nudging Geralt in the knee.

Geralt hums, lips pursed.

“Fake breakup is a terrible idea. Next time we’ll just grit our teeth and sit through the month-long party.”

Still, no smile.

“Alright, you win. Next time I won’t take you to a month-long party to start with.” Jaskier gently pats Geralt on the cheek. “For your delicate sensibilities, darling.”

Finally, finally, Geralt’s lips turn upwards, just a smidge.

“You are an idiot,” Geralt says, the crease between his brows fading. “Just…don’t make me make you cry again.”

Melting into the warmth welling up between his ribcage, Jaskier leans forward and presses a tiny kiss at his witcher’s forehead, so softly as if he’d break with any more force.

“Yes, dear.”

Being careless with Geralt’s heart is a mistake that Jaskier never wants to repeat. As he put a hand over his witcher’s languid heartbeat, Jaskier feels the soft thrumming against his palm, and realizes just how terribly he needs to guard it with the same care too. Against his frivolous self, and against the past that never seems to stop haunting them.

Because Jaskier needs this thing between them to work. If a faked breakup already seems unbearable, he shudders to imagine a real one.

A witcher’s life is already riddled with pain and sadness and could-have-beens. A poet would hate it if he added himself to the list.

---

Tagging: @wanderlust-t @rockysstupidity @flowercrown-bard @alllthequeenshorses @mothmanismyuncle @percy-jackson-is-sexy- @constantlytiredpigeon @behonesthowsmysinging @kitcatkim3 @endless-whump @rey-a-nonbinary-bisexual @llamasdumpsterfire @dapandapod @kuripon

Please feel free to tell me if you want to be removed or added to the list <3

[deepdonutkid]

Kismet

Requested: No

Paring: Shelby!Sister Reader x Isaiah

Words: 5624

Summary: For a year now, you had a secret relationship with Isaiah and even when he is still in the same room with you, you can’t stop feeling lonely. It’s not that you don’t love him anymore, it more about the weight of the secret you have to carry. But with Tommy as you big brother you can’t risk, telling the truth or your man might get shot.

Note:

I was in the mood for a Shelby!Sister reader x Isaiah and it turned out to be way longer than I expected it... and I even cut out dialog... So here it is!

It’s also flavored with Junior Peaky Boys fun at the beginning. And I was inspired by my homegirl’s one shot called star and my story is an addition to hers, it’s the same night, but Bonnie has some other adventures than the reader and Isaiah.

Somehow I feel like everybody is a little ooc, but I couldn’t correct it.

Requests and tag list are still open, feel free to dm me or send me an ask.

tagging: @bonniesgoldengirl​ @justalonelyslytherin​ @theshelbyclan​ 

Warning: swear words, drinking, binge drinking, gambling, a hinted smut and a sweet ending

It was one of those nights, nothing special, just the usual fellows around the same table in the Garrison.  You had fun nevertheless. All your friends were right there, you had enough to drink and you had a luck hand today. The cards seemed to work in your fortune.

Deviously smiling you revealed your hand. You just had won this round and it gave you unholy amounts of satisfactions. “Ha”, you cheered: “Suck it up.”

Your friend shrugged and shoved his coins in your direction. All he said was a very grumpy “There you go”, but it pleased you.

You took the money and peaked around the corner. Where was Michael with the drinks? He was like a brother to you, but he was just your cousin. Maybe it was because you were born just two months before his older sister, Anna. Even though, she was gone Michael came back to his real family and now you were closer than ever. You cared for him, more than your siblings did.

But that didn’t mean you wouldn’t hit him, if he just left the bar to fuck with some random girl. It was not about him having sex, more about leaving without telling anybody. Especially when he was supposed to get drinks for the table. You moaned and said: “Where is Michael?”

“Probably doing somebody”, Isaiah joked and lit a cigarette. Then he offered you one and you took it gladly. Actually, you bit your lip and gave him the side-eye, but you had to hide your smile in front of the others. Bonnie and Finny weren’t the smartest boys in Small Heath, but you wouldn’t risk it.

You had so much fun with Isaiah that you didn’t even know when it started. Months passed by, while you were completely caught up in your little game with him. Nobody knew it. That was mainly Isaiah’s fault. At first it amused you to keep your relationship with him secret, but now you were ready to tell your family about it. Your boyfriend didn’t like the idea.

Somehow you thought Michael started to notice. He gave you the glace, which said: “I know, dear”, but maybe you were just getting crazy. You just had to be more careful around others now and everything was fine.

The night was still young and you were keen to make Bonnie lose all his money today. He had won the boxing match earlier and the bruises were still visible, but unfortunately for him, he couldn’t win against you. It was just a card game, but it filled you with gleeful joy. This and the fact that Isaiah was sitting next to you. Sometimes he would brush your thigh with his fingers, which made you giggle even more.

“There he is”, yelled Finny while being so fucking drunk, like you never had seen him before. Michael arrived with messy hair and his tie was undone, but he had your drink and that was all that you care for. “Finally”, you fluted and ripped the glass of his hand: “Thank you, babe.”

And the whiskey was still cold, which meant he fucked the girl first and ordered the drinks afterwards. “How was she? Good?” you asked before you took a sip from your whiskey. You weren’t a lightweight when it came to drinking, maybe not as well as Arthur and John, but you could tolerate much more than Ada and Finny. Your little brother was so drunk, he looked like his head was all empty and yet filled with bullshit.

Michael sat down next to you and answered: “Mhh, she was okay, but she talked too much.” Then you felt the weight of a hand on your thigh again. A shiver rushed down your spine, but it was the wrong side. Your cousin had put his hand on your knee. “Everything alright, Y/N?”

You nodded. “Yeah, everything is perfect”, you blabbered hoping he wouldn’t keep asking questions, but he did. “Don’t be so worried, every time I’m with a girl. I know you’re still a virgin, but you can get some too. Tommy wouldn’t be against it.”

How wonderfully wrong he was. Neither were you a virgin nor would Tommy be okay with this. After all, you were his little sister and he wouldn’t accept the guy, you were sleeping with. Of course, Isaiah was a friend of the family, but after the whole thing with Ada and Freddie you had something to worry about.

The best snarky comeback was right on the tip of your tongue, but you couldn’t say it without letting something slip. ‘What gives you the idea I’m still a virgin?’ And yet you were silent as the guy who fucked you, sat right next to you. You felt trapped and decided to go straight forward. “Yes, he would. You know it and everybody in Small Heath knows it.”

“Oh whatever”, Michael mumbled: “Just drink enough and you eventually forget about it.”

You grinned and emptied your drink. “Fuck it, let’s play some cards. I’m not done with Mr. Gold over here.”  Then you took the cards and dealt them to start the next round.

Much later that night when you brought Finn back home and went straight back to the pub, in front of the entrance, you stumbled into Bonnie. “Is there a reason why you’re smirking?” you asked him. He was gleaming red and smiling like an idiot.

Then you remembered. “The singer, right?” Bonnie nodded and his grin got even wider. “You talked to her?” Again he gave you a silent answer. You grabbed his arm and pulled him back inside. He was a lot heavier than you thought, but then again, you were just a girl and he was a boxer.

Sometime it was weird to only have male friends, it just happened. Maybe it was because of your brothers. Maybe that’s why you never acted like a proper girl. Of course you felt like a woman and you liked your body, but in your eyes it was so much easier to talk to guys.

“Eyy, where did you found him?” Michael slurred and helped you to put your friend on a chair again. With your hands finally free you had the chance to explain. “Found him outside. I don’t know what he did there, but he talked to the singer.”

Both, Isiah and Michael nodded. It was only logical for Bonnie to freak out after it talking to her. He was there every Friday night looking for the singer and now his brain seemed to melt, just because she said something to him. But neither of you knew, what she said exactly. Maybe this was a problem for another night. It didn’t look like Bonnie was able to answer.

So you ordered some more drinks and sat back down again. In this separate room, which was reserved for your family, it was almost too tempting to get close to your boyfriend again. Isiah looked so good that night and it hurt to be unable to touch him… or to kiss him. But you would be satisfied with just holding his hand now.

It was a curse; you knew it soon after you realized that you loved him. He was handsome, charming and a loyal friend. There was no better man for you, even though you wished you could be together in public. And again you bit your lip and moved your chair away from him.

But you couldn’t think about this anymore, it was too frustrating and luckily somebody else caught your attention. It was Bonnie who mumbled very quietly: “I think she kissed me, but it could be a dream as well. It felt so surreal.”  You padded his shoulder and nodded to underline your compassion.

It was just the same with Isaiah. Whenever you two were alone, it was amazing and beautiful. He was so soft and romantic and he just made you happy. But every time you woke up and he was gone, the sweet scenery shattered. And out in public it was getting annoying to find excuses to be with him or getting away, so you could spend some time alone with him and you had to lie to your whole family about your whereabouts. Slowly it became exhausting.

There was nothing you could do about it, so you just drank your whiskey and talked with the boys about Bonnie’s singer and the girl Michael had. It was so easy for them to display their relationship in the public, but of course you didn’t have this privilege as a girl. Apparently, you needed to be protected. Or so it has been explained to you. You wasn’t concerned for your safety but for your freedom. Tommy said it was his job as your big brother to care for you, even if it felt like he was controlling you. You have always been the wild one among your siblings and everything was fine, until your mum died and your dad left. Then Tommy was in charge and sometimes his opinions would vary from yours, which led to fights. And yet you feared what he might do, if he found out about your secret.

All the sudden Bonnie fell from his chair and you groaned. Now somebody had to bring him home as well. First Finn and now him… but why they couldn’t take the whiskey today? You weren’t nearly as drunk as them, but still.

Isaiah stood up and picked his friend up. “I’m taking him home. I’ll be right back”, he said, before leaving.

Now Michael and you were alone. It wasn’t what you wanted. The only thing you could think of was smooching the sweet lips of your boyfriend. You were caught up in your little fantasy, when your cousin woke you up again. “Isaiah is acting weird lately.”

“Oh… really? I didn’t notice”, you replied: “He seemed normal to me.” Your hand grabbed the fringe of your dress. Talking about him made you nervous.

Michael moaned and fumbled for his cigarettes. He put them out, you took one and he turned his between his fingers, when he added: “I don’t know, maybe I’m getting paranoid, but I think he is hiding something from us.” Then he lit his cigarette and took a drag from it.

You inhaled sharply and stared into the void for a second, before answering: “Don’t be silly, he is just as loyal as ever.” Then you laughed and Michael joined in. “Yeah, you’re probably right. I just needed to get this off my chest.”

The rest of the conversation went just like usual. You chatted, you bickered and you had fun. While the bell already announced the new day, Isaiah came back.

In this tiny glimpse of a moment you couldn’t hide your smile and he reciprocated. Actually, you were just waiting for Michael to leave now. It was your plan all along, but patience has never been your strong suit.

It took three more rounds for Michael to say goodnight. “Take care of her, will you?” Isaiah nodded. When Michael finally grabbed his jacket and headed to the door, you felt unbelievably excited. Your fingertips slapped a melody on the table, while you watched him leaving. The door shut and now you had what you longed for all night.

You turned around and looked at him. Gosh, waiting felt like an eternity. Now you were the one smiling like an idiot. Slowly Isaiah came closer and his hand pulled you to him for a kiss. “Finally”, you whispered against his lips, before giving him what he wanted.

After you two parted you rested your head on his shoulder. Now you were getting tired as well, but you didn’t want to go to your bed. “I was waiting the whole evening for this”, he moaned and stroked your hair.

The smell of his perfume made you realized how much you missed him too, even though he was with you since you went to Garrison tonight. You moved closer to him and wrapped your arms around him to give him a tight squeeze. Then you signed: “I wish we didn’t have to hide” and buried your face in his shirt.

“Babe”, he replied: “We already had this conversation. It wouldn’t end well. Let’s just enjoy what we have as long as we can.” It hurt, but Isaiah was right. There was no chance Tommy was getting you off the hook, once he knew about it. And no matter how you explained it to him, he would still be against it. You were too young for stuff like that, as if he didn’t fucked Greta, when he was the same age.

You leaned back to see his beautiful face again. There was something in his eyes, a twinkle or something like that, but it always made you feel comfortable. A lick of your lip was enough to purpose the idea of doing something nasty. He knew you since you were children and it was like he could read your thoughts, especially the dirty ones.

Isaiah started giggling and asked: “Hey, babe, I still can cheer you up, right?”

Maybe it was time for some fun, different to the fun you had before with your friends. The word pleasure would describe it well and with his knowing look he gave you so many ideas. You laughed and nodded. “I think it might help when you do the thing with your tongue.”

“Oh”, he responded amused: “Like this?” And then grabbed you for a kiss and god, what a kiss it was. His tongue brushed your upper lip just to enter your mouth and explore it as if it was your first kiss. He even bit your lip playfully and kept going until you couldn’t breathe no more. Your knees started shaking and it was needless to say, he was the best kisser you ever had.

It took you a while to catch a breath again, but then you answered: “Yeah, just like this… But maybe we could go to your place and do a little more?”

He didn’t seem to be so sure about this suggestion. His thumb stroked your shoulder as he held you in his arm. Because he was so quiet for a second, you knew, he thought about this backwards and forwards. “But right when the sun comes up, you have to go back home”, he argued.

Again, Isaiah was right. You should take too many risks. Otherwise you might get caught and neither of you wanted that. All you could do was to shrug and agree: “Just don’t shoo me after we fucked.” There was bitterness in your voice. What wouldn’t you give to wake up next to him every morning?

The pub was almost empty, when you left. You couldn’t hold his hand on the way out. Everybody in Small Heath was Tommy’s spy. Back on the streets a cold wind blew. Now you had an excuse to go near him and he shared his coat with you. Isaiah was always so sweet and caring. You knew you wanted to spend your future with him. There was no other man and you wouldn’t get over him, not now and not in five years.

You even took off your shoes before entering the Jesus household and followed him on your tiptoes to his room. It was completely dark in the house and the silence was haunting, but good for you, you knew the way by now. The excitement made your fingers tremble.

Finally you arrived where you wanted to be the whole day, in his room. Isaiah closed the door as quietly as possible and started smiling. You walked up to him and started to unbutton his shirt. Now you didn’t want to waste any time.

And neither did Isaiah. He was ripping down your dress, which only worked because the straps were so thin. His hands were all over your body and you couldn’t stop kissing every inch of his skin. It felt like magic whenever he touched you. You moaned, when he played with your bare breasts. To silence you he put his thumb on your lips, which you took as an invitation to suck it. Maybe it was mean to tease him like that, but you were desperate for his affection.

An hour later you laid next to him, your head on his chest as he stroked your hair. “You should leave, before we both fall asleep, babe”, he whispered, which caused you to sign. Leaving now was draining, even exhausting. After this wonderful sex, you were too tired to move anywhere, not to the bathroom and certainly not back to your cold bed.

You pouted your lips and tilted your head, so you could give him your puppy eyes and a pretty please with cream and a cherry on top. “Just ten more minutes. Your bed is way comfier than mine.”

He laughed and kissed your forehead. “That’s just because I’m in this bed and you like to use me as your personal giant pillow.” Your fingers hovered about his belly. Even though his muscles weren’t tense now, you could still feel the strength lying beneath his skin.

While your index finger drew circles around his bellybutton, you whined: “Maybe… just maybe that is true, but I still want to lay here for a bit. Otherwise I start to feel like a whore, who only comes for sex and leaves silently afterwards.”  It wasn’t a knock against Lizzie or her job, but you didn’t like the feeling, when you got home and had to find sleep in your own bed. Even though you had a relationship with him, you still felt lonely. Especially when the sun was rising and nobody was by your side.

“You’re not a whore and you know that”, he argued looking a little concerned.

Then you turned on your back and stared at the ceiling. “No, I’m a Shelby and that is probably worse”, you scoffed.

Now Isaiah was silent and had no witty comeback for that. Maybe, because it was true. If you weren’t part of the family, you could be with anyone, whoever you wanted. Carrying the name Shelby was the only reason, why you had to hide your relationship with Isaiah.

After a while he mumbled: “Okay, stay for a while, but you should be back before they open the shop.” By that time you were already half asleep and yet his words made you smile. He wrapped his arms around you, the little spoon and purred like a cat. Just in this position the both of you fell asleep.

Loud steps were coming near the door, but they wouldn’t wake you up. The screaming of Isaiah’s name did. It was a familiar voice and it took you a couple of minutes to notice, it was your brother Finn who shouted and ran down the hall. Suddenly you were wide awake. You startled up and looked around the room. The sun was already up and shining through the window. Then you saw Isaiah, who was just as frightened as you were.

If Finn came rushing through that door, your secret relationship was no longer secret. “I locked the door last night”, he whispered, which was relieving to you, but still no perfect solution for this problem.

Now Finn arrived at the other side of the door and was knocking on it like crazy. “Isaiah, wake up! Y/N is gone. Nobody can find her and Michael said you were the last one with her in the bar”, your brother yelled. You could hear the panic in his voice, but you couldn’t get caught. Not now.

You stumbled out of the bed and collected your clothes, when you heard Isaiah ask: “What are you going to do? You can’t go out there. He will find out.” And you knew your boyfriend wasn’t concerned about Finn, more about Tommy.

The tension in the room was immense. You had to come up with a plan or your brothers would shoot your lover in front of your eyes.

Suddenly you knew what to do. You pushed the pile of clothing to your chest and squeeze it thigh, when you explained in a lower tone: “I’m gonna hide in the wardrobe and then you open the door and go with Finn away. Afterwards I can come out and then I go to the betting shop and tell the others I have fallen asleep on a bench or something.” It was not the best plan, but yet your only option.

Isaiah nodded and you climbed into the cabinet where he stored his shirt and jackets. The second you entered the small wooden space, you knew it was all going down. Call it intuition, call it divination, call it whatever power Polly owned, but you felt it rushing through your body. He closed the door behind you and then you could hear him stumble into his pants.

Only half clothed he unlocked the door to let Finn in. Isaiah was still sleepy. He wasn’t the morning type of person and before he hadn’t had his breakfast he wasn’t really available. Finn strode up and down. You heard is nervous steps. “Everybody is freaking out right now. Polly thinks somebody kidnapped her or worse. I mean, she has always been unratable in her doings, but this time my sister is really going of the edge. It’s already past lunch and nobody has seen her”, Finn explained: “This morning her bed was empty and I thought I shouldn’t worry, but now I’m afraid I should have said something sooner.”

The cabinet was very uncomfortable and yet you tried not to move or to make a noise, which would cause Finn’s attention. However, being in Isaiah’s position didn’t seem to be pleasant as well. He had to lie to his best friend about the whereabouts of his missing sister, knowing she was sitting right here. Isaiah patted his friends shoulder and said nothing.

Finn didn’t calm down and seemed to be upset, Isaiah wasn’t panicking like him. “C’mon, get dressed. We have to look for her. She might be lying somewhere in the dirt. We shouldn’t waste even more time, standing around.” Then he walked to the closet and opened just the door where you had been hiding.

Butt-naked you fell down to the floor and looked up to your younger brother, who had the same face expression as the one time you told him where the babies were coming from. Some when later you would look back at this moment and would have a good laugh about this, but right now it felt like your world was collapsing.

He should have seen you like this and it took you a whole minute to gather the mental energy to get back up at your feet and greet him like it was the normal thing to do in a situation like this. “Hey, Finny, there I am.”

Your brother froze mid movement and stared at you as if you were the first pink elephant the world has seen or a bear riding a bike. Then he broke the silence. “What?”, he winced. There was no anger in his voice, just total confusion.

Finn looked to Isaiah and then back to you. “You screwed my sister?!”

There was no answer to this question.

“How long?” Finn asked: “How long did you hide that from me?”

You glared over to you boyfriend as if you were asking him for permission to say something. Isaiah signed and nodded. There was no point in denying this anymore. It was over.

Now you had to tell the truth. “A couple of months, maybe a year or so”, you croaked and your voice sounded strange. Like it was not your own and even though you dreamt about finally opening up, it shouldn’t have been like this.

Your brother yelled: “A year?! A whole fucking year? Damn, I should be proud because apparently you two are excellent liars with no moral issues… you two deserve each other.” You heard the disgust and disappointment, when he spoke and it broke your heart. Back then, when the whole thing started you though he might be the only one of your brothers to understand you. How wonderfully wrong you were.

“No”, you said under your breath: “Don’t fucking do this to me. I would have told you, if you wouldn’t have run straight to Tommy after you knew. Everybody knows you can’t keep a secret. So don’t act like it was my fault or my mistake, because it’s not. I would have gladly told everybody, I’m like him very much, but you and Tommy and Arthur and John made it impossible for me to even talk with a guy who is not part of the gang. You can’t turn this around and act like you are the victim in all this.”

It was time for you to stand up for yourself and your decisions… and time for you to get dressed. You didn’t seem as responsible as you were when you were still naked and in front of the closed you have been hiding in. Now you knew how wrong it was to lie and hide your relationship, because it wasn’t their concern. It was your life, your body and your choice. Nobody could take that from you and certainly not your brothers. You weren’t afraid of them. All your life you saw how your brothers treated women and you said nothing about it, but this should change right now.

So you stood there, furious and filled with rage, put on your dress and your shoes and said one last thing, before leaving: “This madness has to end.”

You stormed out of the room- not caring for Isaiah or Finn- and heading for the King of Small Heath to throw him out of his high throne. Your hair was a nest and you smelled like a bar after a dirty old night, when you entered the betting shop. Nobody was there, just the regular family members.

Everybody seemed to be relieved to see you again and then came close to hug you. Ada was right next to the door and the first to greet you. “Oh my god, you’re back, sweetie”, she muttered.

Next was Polly who examined your appearance for cuts and other injuries. Of course you had none, besides the hickeys Isaiah gave you. She tried to take a closer look of your neck, but you pulled away, which caused her to ask: “What happened? Where were you all night?”

Now Tommy was coming up to you. His steps were slow, but fierce and the glare in his eyes was pinching. “Just from the smell I would guess, she was with a guy this night”, he scoffed: “She probably had a lot of fun, but now she should say, who that guy was, so we can take actions.” You knew he was addressing you, even though he didn’t phrase it like that.

“I don’t think, this is your business”, you replied with a grin on your face. You wouldn’t back down. Not this time. “But yes, I was with a guy tonight. So you don’t need to worry. I’m completely fine.”

Your older brother led out a little laugh, pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head. “Well, well, well, I don’t care what you think. I’m your brother and it’s my job to make sure you’re safe”, he explained: “And now you tell me who he was.” Ah, past tense, a hint of what was going to happen.

You crossed your arms and tiled your head to give him a dismissive look. “Who said it was your job?” was your comeback, but your brother wasn’t remotely impressed. Neither of you would let the other win. You were too stubborn for this gesture of insight.

Others, including Arthur and John, were somehow intimidated by Tommy’s behavior, but not you. Actually, you learned too much from him to take his shit.  He taught you to help your head up high and how to outsmart your enemies.  Now you could use the same strategies against him.

“Ever since our father left and mom died, you act like you are in charge, but you’re not. We are your siblings, not your pawn, waiting for your command”, you hissed: “I have my own life and I make my own decisions and who I meet shouldn’t concern you.” Slowly your anger grew. It was a boiling feeling in your gut, like you were fueled with fire.

Tommy was getting gleaming red. You had hit the right spot and you knew you would hurt him with your words, but otherwise he wouldn’t understand. The words were stuck in his throat as he killed you with his looks.

Patiently, you waited for his answer. He wouldn’t give you the satisfaction, but silencing your brother was the best thing ever, since he was the reason why you felt miserable lately. “No comeback? No arguments, dear?” You loved to poke his wounds and you did it with a huge smile on your face.

“As if you would listen to me… You even said it yourself. You wouldn’t take my advice”, he responded and bid his lip. “But I don’t need to talk to you to teach you a lesson. You’re too young to fuck around town and I’m going to find the bastard who did this and kill him.”

The door was opened behind you and soon Finn entered the room. You gave your little brother the death glare you were known for. He shouldn’t get the idea he was allowed to talk about what he found out.

You should be raging right now, but all you could do was laugh. His empty threats weren’t as daunting as he thought. With nothing but spite you whistled: “I would love to see you try. I kept this a secret for over a year now and you noticed nothing. And now I can wait another year for you to find him… or I could run away… whatever you prefer.”

Now you’re pushing your luck. Finn could ruin everything, if he just said one wrong word. The palms of your hands were sweaty. It was a dangerous game you played there, but it was not like you could back out of it now. This was road of no return.

Tommy seemed to be more surprised than fuming, when he asked: “You slept with some geezers for a year now?” He respected your talent to keep it under the radar. Everybody who could shirk his rules deserved acknowledgement for putting up with this risk. Maybe he was finally realizing how much you had grown. You weren’t his little kitten anymore.

“No, not geezers, just one guy”, you corrected him: “But yes, that is true.”

You watched Tommy as he walked around the table, heading for the whiskey, while he nodded understandingly. “Mh, so you would say it’s love?”

A sign came from your lips. You already knew the answer, but you weren’t so sure, if you should say this out loud. After all, you didn’t even have a proper talk about this with Isaiah. Silence was filling the room, while you calculated your risks. If you said, you loved him and Isaiah wasn’t as serious about the relationship, you would look like an idiot. Good for you, he didn’t come to the betting shop to witness the fight between you and your brother. Finally you decided to tell everybody: “Yes, I do.”

“Good”, Tommy mumbled while he poured his whiskey: “Then you should have my blessing. Just give us the name now.” He took a sip and seemed to be amused by your embarrassment.

Talking about Isaiah, while he wasn’t present, was weird, but you knew why he stayed in the comfort of his own room. You weren’t mad at him for not running after you. This was your fight and not his. And after all your brothers were a little scary, when it comes to stuff like this.

But you had Tommy’s word now and nothing should happen to your man. You shrugged and rolled with your eyes. The fuss they made about this was still annoying.

Ada patted your shoulder and encouraged you to speak. “Do we know him?” The answer was yes, but it was also the reason, why you struggled to say it out loud.

Even John chimed in and kept pushing: “Yeah, what’s up with this fella?” He was smiling to let you know the mood had changed. Nobody was against you anymore.

“It’s…”, you started and fumbled for the seam of your dress: “It’s Isaiah.”

At first it was dead silence, while the others processed the information, then Arthur and John burst out in laughter. Finn seemed to be relieved, because he would have hated it to keep a secret like this. Your older sister was hugging you a little too tight and even Polly was smiling.

Tommy had a smug on his face when he muttered: “If that’s the case, then you should have your happiness.”

“Isaiah is a fine fella. You will be alright”, hummed Arthur. Apparently everybody was happy with your choice. You just had to stand up for yourself.

It felt like a huge weight was lifted off your shoulders and then you could laugh about it too. But suddenly you remember that Isaiah was still waiting for his death in his room. “I should go and let him of the hook”, you fluted and already went to the door when you heard Tommy said: “Don’t get pregnant or he has to marry you.”

[clarawatson]

It Only Takes a Taste

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x [Fem]!Reader (GN pronouns, fem coded stuff, but I’m not sure where this is going as a larger work so we’ll say Fem!reader to be safe) Summary: You work at a diner. Aaron Hotchner falls in love with you. We’re not kidding around trying to make us all sound like profilers, just accept the diner life, we love it here. W/C: 1498 Warnings: none yet!  A/N:  First chapter of that diner!au i was talking about here! AO3 ps. I forgot to tag people, so: @willowrose99 & @genevievedarcygranger my beloveds. If you want to get added to the tag list jump in my inbox and i’ll try to remember to add tags every time i post. Where am I in this series?  01 | 02 | 03 | 04 |

~

When you first meet him it’s 5am and raining. You’re switching over shifts for your friend, Rita, because she’s been doing night shifts at the diner. This late into her pregnancy she shouldn’t be working, not technically, but she needs the money and she’s got insomnia because of the baby, so she works nights now. There’s always someone working with her, be it Joe (who’s got far too much muscle for a chef) or Lola (who can beat anyone to a pulp with a pie tray). In the early hours of the morning a bunch of tatt’ed bikies come and sit and talk about their extracurricular activities (definitely not legal) because one time there was an armed hold up and the police didn’t turn up until two hours after it had happened. People don’t like holding up a diner full of men who eat their own motorbikes for breakfast.

But when he comes in, he’s not any of them. He’s not even one of Lola’s nightly hook-ups (she needs the money, you don’t ask). He’s too well dressed in a grey suit (or is it black? Maybe it’s black), trying desperately to shove his I.D. badge in his pocket. He has a look about him that says ‘I’m part of one of the alphabet soup agencies’. A smile on his face, dead in the eyes, and the weight of the world on his shoulders. He fumbles with his wallet as he squints to read the menu behind the counter. The rain’s stopped dripping from his hair, instead he’s got droplets like his woken with the morning dew upon him.

“Hi love,” Rita coos as she hangs her apron up. She has a look about her that says she’ll eat this man for her breakfast. It’s an effort not to curse those pregnancy hormones some days.

“Go home,” you tell her, swatting her arm. “Put your feet up, rest, sleep while the baby does or some shit.” Rita sticks her bottom lip out and pouts, but she’s making grabby hands for her purse, which is stored where the tea towels used to be. Far too high to reach even when one’s not pregnant. You grab it down for her, ignoring the showering of thank-yous.

The new guy (who is getting more and more handsome by the second) is still looking at the menu. He doesn’t look like he’s going to stop looking and order any time soon.

“Are you sure you’re fine to take the metro in this weather?” you check. She’s rubbing her swollen belly and looking longingly at the booths that haven’t had anyone sit in them for hours now. 

“Wait forty-five minutes and I’ll take you!” Joe yells. He’s slaving over something in the kitchen even though it looks like no one’s ordered in hours. “Wife gave me the car ‘cause of the storm!”

“Forty-five,” you repeat and point her towards the seat that she’s been eyeing off. Rita sighs, nods, then goes out to the seat. “What can I get you?” Usually when addressing the customer you’d add something gentle like ‘sweetheart’ or ‘love’ or ‘dear’ because the customers like it and they come back because they think you’re treating them like a long lost friend.

He bats his dark eyelashes and rubs at his forehead.

“I don’t know.” He sounds tired, balancing on the very edge of exhaustion. He might just fall off into a pit of sleep that he won’t wake up from. Been there, done that. “Do you guys do coffee?”

You laugh and point to the brewed pot beside you. There’s one for each table, free refills with a pie purchase. It’s written in decorative lettering right above you on the blackboard.

“We can put it in a take-away cup. It’s before six so it’s free anyway,” you offer. The last bits a lie, but Joe doesn’t care about a cup or two of coffee going missing. He’ll catch it up later when he flirts with all of the mom’s coming through after school drop off. The new guy nods and pulls out a ten dollar note and shoves it in the tip jar. You raise an eyebrow at him, but he nods anyway. He’s like a broken bobblehead.

“I know.” He goes to the sweets display and searches through it like he’s looking for something specific. Maybe he is. You’ve not seen him in the diner before, and neither has Rita, but maybe he’s one of Lola’s regulars. Maybe you’d judged him wrong. 

“Anything caught your eye?” you ask, leaning over the counter as if you could see it from his angle too. Maybe you do it to show off just that little bit of cleavage. He notices, then looks like he’s done entirely the wrong thing as he licks his lips and blinks like a school boy.

“S-sorry,” he stammers, and Rita giggles. You point at her and give her a stern look, but she just puts her hand over her mouth and lies down on the seat. She’s still silently giggling because her belly keeps bobbing above the table. 

“I just…” he has that exhausted look on his face again.

“Long day at work?” The answer is always yes for the people who work at the alphabet agencies. He nods. “Take a seat, grab some coffee, take a minute. It’s only just gone five, you’ve got time.” 

He nods. He looks like he’s gotten his words all mixed up and they’re just sitting in his mouth, refusing to leave. Tongue tied doesn’t exactly encapsulate what looks like is going on inside his head. He sits at one of the chairs in front on the counter, and takes the coffee cup gratefully as you pass it to him.

He’s definitely an alphabet soup man. He sits in this weird stance like he’s countering his weight against a gun. His shoulders are hunched forward as if he spends hours a day doing paperwork. He’s got a nervous twitch in his hands like sitting still is only going to bring the next case.

You think about making a joke about turning on the cellphone jammer, but last time Joe made that joke the whole place ended up swarming with cops. Absolute disaster. No one’s going to do that one again. 

“Cherry, berry or apple?” you ask, grabbing a plate.

“Sorry?”

“Cherry, berry or apple?” Rita repeats from her booth. “For the pie, sweetheart.”

“Uh, I didn’t—“

“Eat it,” Rita growled. You pull a face at her even though she can’t see you. The guy smiles.

“Apple, please.” Well mannered. Sweet. He looks elated as you slide the apple pie to him and hand him the canned cream.

“Not as good as fresh, but it’s better than nothing.” 

He puts a generous amount on his plate. You half think he might like it more than proper cream. Rita leans up just enough to look at him as he digs in, fanning herself playfully before sighing and collapsing back down.

Joe brings out his tray of caramel salted cookies. They’re thick enough to look like cakes with a gooey caramel center, and they usually sell out pretty quickly. The new guy watches them intently.

“How much trouble am I going to get into if I give those to my son?” 

“How old is he?”

“Ten.”

You smile. That’s a good age. “How much do you hate his teacher?” 

He considers this with a gentle tilt of his head. “Not a lot. I’ll give it to him after school.” He pulls out his wallet again and Joe looks like he’s just hit the mother lode as he grabs one of the cardboard boxes. 

“If you really want to spoil your kid, y/n here can write really pretty on top.” You glare at Joe. He shrugs. He’s covered in cake batter and cookie dough, and smells like pancake batter. He’s always smelling sickly sweet, and like a well lived in home, despite looking like the living embodiment of Gaston. “She does it for my wife all the time.”

The handsome man’s phone buzzes. He checks it, then shovels the rest of his pie in his mouth like a starved man. 

“I have to go,” he says. He gives Joe another ten and tells him to keep the change. Joe looks like he’s about to break into a song and dance. You pour a fresh cup of coffee into a take-away cup and slide it across the counter to him. He thanks you a thousand times over then goes. With his cookie.

“Are you FUCKING KIDDING ME?” Rita screeches the moment the door shut with it’s little jingle. “I’ll-show-him-my-cleavage-but-I-won’t-ask-his-name?? No wonder you can’t get a date!”

“I’ll do it next time.” Not that there’s ever a ‘next time’ for these alphabet soup agents. They’re always looking for the next place to go to so they don’t have a ‘regular place’ that can be ambushed. 

But in a perfect world... you’d see him every day.

[writemywaytoyourheart]

Aim For The Heart | Chapter 5: Crimson Pages

Pairing: hitman!jungkook x female reader

Genre: E2L, romance, angst, drama

WC: 6k

Warnings for this chapter: strong language, mentions of murder, blood, alcohol consumption, kook is an ass, tae is hot af, I think that’s it let me know if I need to add anything else

Tag list: @moonchild1 @hopekookies @barbellastyles98 @teresaisla @ggukkieland @mwitsmejk @scuzmunkie @jaebeomsblackgf @sugaslittlekookies @moon-asia @armyhollander @yoonchrisgullwrites @njkbangtan @higashikatasgf

summary; Jeon Jungkook is an infamous hitman, known for his inability to fail at whatever job is thrown his way. At least, up until now. Y/n, a kind-hearted and full of life teacher, is his newest target. Jeon isn’t sure who would put a hit on this seemingly innocent girl, but fortunately, that isn’t his problem. All he has to do is pull the trigger.

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The sound of pans clanging around in the kitchen brings Jungkook out of the deep slumber he was in. It was the first time in more than a week that he actually got a decent amount of sleep. 

Jungkook groans and rubs his eyes tiredly. 

When he is finally able to orient himself and remember where he is, he squints in the direction of the kitchen to see a shirtless Taehyung digging around in his pantry. 

"The hell are you doing?" Jungkook slurs.

Taehyung turns around when he hears the younger's voice, "Oh, morning Kook."

Then he turns and continues to rummage around noisily. Jungkook sighs and drops his head back down onto his pillow. He flings one of his arms over his eyes to block the sunlight streaming in and reminding him of the precious sleep he just lost. 

After a minute, Taehyung walks over and slaps Jungkook on the stomach.

Jungkook flinches, then groans in annoyance, "What the hell?" He snaps at Tae.

The older boy just smirks down at him, "Do you even eat? There's literally nothing to eat here but ramen and a few mushy apples."

Jungkook rubs his eyes, "What?" 

"Food. Sustenance. You have none." Tae speaks up louder making Jungkook flinch again. 

"If you're gonna complain then get the fuck out," Jungkook mumbles sleepily, turning away from his idiotic friend and closing his eyes again. 

Taehyung rolls his eyes, then slaps Jungkook's ass, hard.

The sleepy boy jerks up and turns to grab at Taehyung angrily, "Leave me alone, asshole!  Go find your own food!" He shouts, slapping at Tae's chest. 

"Come with me."

"No."

"Please."

"Fuck off." Jungkook snarls then lies down again. 

Tae sighs and sits on the edge of Jungkook's bed, "Grumpy butt." He mutters. 

Jungkook turns his head to peek at Tae, then he sighs, "Fine. Get dressed."

"Yippee!" Tae gets up and runs over to where his bag is, pulling out his clothes as fast as he can. Jungkook sighs tiredly and forces himself to get up and dress too. _

"So, when are you supposed to be finished?" Tae asks around a mouthful of food. He and Jungkook are in a small cafe, eating the breakfast that he so graciously offered to pay for. 

Jungkook finishes chewing and swallows before answering him, "They wanted it done within a month."

"A month? That's a big window. Most hits are a few days to a week." Tae muses as he takes another bite of his pancakes. 

"I know," Jungkook mutters, confused himself. They had assured him that a month was expected, even when he told them, again and again, he could get it done within a week at the most. 

Turns out he was wrong. 

There must be something they know that he doesn't.

Jungkook still can't shake the feeling that the target is playing with him somehow. She must be putting on an act to catch him off guard when he least expects it. 

"Sooo," Tae drawls, "Are you going to take a month to get it done?"

Jungkook sends him a glare, "Of course not, why would I waste time on one target?"

Tae shrugs, looking at Jungkook closely as he takes another bite of his food. 

"How long has it been?"

"That's none of your business-"

"Why are you being so secretive all of the sudden?" Tae snaps, making Jungkook glance around to see if anyone is listening to their conversation. 

There are only two other tables with people at the moment and none of them seem interested in anything going on around them outside of their little bubbles. 

Good. 

He turns back to his older friend and whispers fiercely, "Stop being so loud for fuck's sake. Are you trying to let the entire restaurant know what we're talking about?"

Tae just sneers at him before continuing to devour his breakfast, "I bet you a thousand bucks I'll be done with my hit before you're done with yours."

"Fuck off."

"No, I'm serious," Taehyung swallows the chewed-up pancake in his mouth, "I bet you one thousand that I'll be done first."

"No." Jungkook takes another bite, trying to ignore the young man sitting on the other side of the table. 

"What? You scared you'll lose?" Taehyung taunts with a smirk on his face, "Why should someone as good at what he does as you be afraid of a tiny school teacher?"

Jungkook glances up at Taehyung, his eyes burning with anger, "Fine, you know what? I'll take your bet."

Tae drops his fork onto his plate and reaches across the table. When Jungkook takes his hand, he shakes it once, "Deal," Tae says triumphantly. 

Jungkook just shakes his head and goes back to eating. He rolls his eyes when Tae speaks up again, "So, what's your plan?"

"You think I'd tell you?" Jungkook scoffs. 

Taehyung shrugs, stuffing his mouth again. ______________

"Miss ___?"

You look up from the worksheets you were going through at your desk. The kids have been working quietly at their seats with whatever they wanted to do at this time. 

A tiny girl named Minju is looking at you with big brown eyes, her long black hair is in two ponytails, one on each side of her head. You smile at her and set your pen down. 

"How c-can I help you, M-Minju?"

She hands you a picture that she drew, "This is for you." 

You look at it and see a few stick-figure kids smiling and holding hands in a line, at the end of the line is you, smiling and holding onto Minju's hand. You're even wearing your favorite white skirt and peach blouse, along with your chunky tennis shoes. 

A few tears spring to your eyes and you look back at the small girl, "It's b-beautiful Minju. This m-must have taken you s-so long to do!"

She shakes her head and smiles shyly, "It only took me maybe a little bit of time?"

You laugh and hold the picture to your chest, "I l-love it. Thank y-you so much."

She nods again, then she leans in closer to whisper softly, "You know we love you, right Miss ___?" 

You try your best to hold in your tears as you nod, "I love you little d-ducklings too."

"Oh yes, we know!" She whispers enthusiastically before turning and hurrying back to her seat. You smile at her as she sits down and gets to work on another picture. 

You place the picture as carefully as you can into your bag, wanting to frame it when you get home later. You're sure you have a frame somewhere that will fit it. 

The rest of the school day goes by smoothly, nothing much happening besides the kids getting a lot of their school work done. You always give them time to do their homework on Fridays so they don't have to worry about it over the weekend. 

You haven't seen Jungkook for a few days now, ever since you two hung out that day earlier this week. You were starting to wonder if there was something about you that he found annoying, then you reminded yourself of Mina's words to you a few years ago. 

"If someone doesn't like you for who you are, please don't waste your precious time on them, ___. You're worth more than that."

It isn't your problem if someone doesn't like you, you're just going to keep on doing what you do best. And that's being a friend to anyone who wants it.

With that in mind, you pack up your stuff after seeing the kids off and wishing them a good weekend. 

You look up when someone suddenly opens your classroom door, not even bothering to knock. 

When Mr. Baek walks in, you feel your stomach drop. 

"How c-can I help you?" You ask politely. 

He chuckles darkly and you feel a shiver go down your spine when he walks over and sits on the edge of your desk, pushing his glasses up his long nose. 

"Next week is the last week of school," He says casually. 

You nod, "Y-Yes, it is."

He looks at you pointedly, "Are you coming back next year?" 

You swallow thickly, "U-Um, I th-think so."

His demeanor changes suddenly and he glares at you before standing up, knocking some of the papers off your desk as he does. 

Then he leaves without another word, practically slamming the door shut behind him. 

You stare at the door in confusion, wondering what he has always had against you. He hasn't been very pleasant to you ever since you started working here back in August of last year.

You shake it off and finish packing your things. 

When you're all packed up, you peek outside of your door, checking both ways down the halls to see if he's lingering around anywhere. When you don't see him, you slip out of your classroom and hurry down the hall towards the front.

You peek your head out the front too, glancing both ways before coming out and cautiously walking down the front steps. 

Fixing your bag on your shoulder, you hurry down the sidewalk, just wanting to go home and not stop anywhere today. 

"Hey, wait up."

You jump out of your skin at the sound of a voice right behind you. Then you turn and see Jungkook walking closer to you, a look in his eyes that you can't decipher. 

"Heading home?" He asks casually. 

You nod, a smile slowly spreading on your face at the sight of someone who you think might be your friend after all. 

Jungkook smiles at you, but you notice something flash in his eyes before he smothers it and comes closer, "Can I walk you home?" He asks.

You look at him closely, trying to figure him out. When you can't, you nod once again, "Yes, tha-that would be ni-nice. Thank y-you."

Jungkook walks next to you as you continue on your way home. You try your best to think of something to say, but you aren't sure what to ask to make the awkward tension between you two break. 

You glance over at Jungkook and see him watching his feet as he walks. That brings a smile to your face again. 

You look down at your feet and notice how much bigger Jungkook's feet are than yours. Even with your tennis shoes, his feet look huge. 

A tiny giggle escapes your lips and Jungkook lifts his head to look at you.

"What's so funny?" He asks in confusion.

"Oh, n-nothing." You assure him before biting your lip and looking down at your feet again. Jungkook squints at you suspiciously but lets it go. 

When he looks back down he notices that your walking pace has matched with his. 

He looks to the side at you and feels a tiny pinch in his chest when he notices how concentrated you are on trying to make sure your pace matches his. Jungkook forces himself to look away, not liking the feeling that's coming over him all of the sudden. 

Remember why you started this, Jungko-

"Where h-have you been, J-Jungkook?"

He starts at the sudden sound of your voice, then when he regains his composure he laughs sheepishly, reaching up to rub the back of his neck. 

"I've been busy with work." 

"Oh."

"And an old friend of mine came to town." He explains further, not sure why he feels the need to. 

"Ah, r-really?" You ask enthusiastically, clearly excited for him, "That m-must be so n-nice."

"Meh, he can be a pain." Jungkook chuckles and you smile at that, then you frown. 

"If your f-friend is visiting, you ought t-to be h-home with him."

"Nah, he's fine," Jungkook reassures you quickly, "He's probably just eating my food and watching TV." 

You laugh at that, a bright sound that makes Jungkook genuinely smile for the first time since meeting you. You can see the smile in his eyes. 

Then it's like it vanishes into thin air as he clears his throat.

"Anyway," He mutters, "Want to hang out this weekend?"

You look at your fingers that you are fiddling with, it's a habit you've had for years. Then you nod, "S-Sure, we c-can invite your friend-"

"No, it's fine," Jungkook cuts off your suggestion. For some reason, he doesn't want you to meet Taehyung. 

Or maybe he doesn't want Taehyung to meet you.

Either way, he doesn't like it. 

"I mean," He continues when he sees the look of confusion on your face, "He has something with work this weekend. He's on a business trip right now. So, he doesn't have a ton of time to hang out." Jungkook explains in a rush.

Now he's just rambling.  

He clears his throat and nods, shutting up. 

"Oh, ok." You say simply. 

Jungkook breathes a sigh of relief when you don't push it any further. 

You make it back to your house a little while later, Jungkook walking you up the stairs and right to your door. 

"Thank you, f-for walking me h-home." You say sweetly, smiling at him. Jungkook just nods, then after a moment of silence he speaks up, "So, what time did you want to hang out tomorrow?"

"Um, maybe w-we can meet for l-lunch?" You suggest. 

Jungkook agrees quickly, "Alright, then I'll meet you downstairs at noon." Then he turns and hurries away, just like he always does. 

You laugh at his behavior, wondering why he always seems to be in some kind of rush. Then you go inside, setting your things down before heading to your closet to find that frame you know you have that will fit the picture from Minju perfectly.

-

"Where were you?" 

Jungkook rolls his eyes at the words Tae speaks right as he comes into his apartment, "Does it matter?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"I was bored all day long." Taehyung pouts.

Jungkook makes a face at him, "Entertain yourself then, idiot. I wasn't even gone for longer than an hour."

Tae watches Jungkook as he pulls his shoes off, "Were you working?" He asks with a lilt to his voice. 

"If you must know, I needed to take a walk alone, without you talking my fucking ear off." Jungkook snaps. 

Taehyung's eyebrows raise to his hairline, "Fuck, someone's grouchy. You on your period, Jeon?"

Jungkook looks up at Tae, dropping his shoes on the ground, an unamused expression painting his features. 

He sees Tae's mouth twitching as he fights the urge to laugh. That just pisses Jungkook off even more. He bends to grab his shoes to put them back on, but Tae jumps up from the couch and hurries over to knock the shoes out of his hand. 

"I was kidding, JK. Jeez."

"Why are you even here?" Jungkook asks in exasperation, "Aren't you supposed to be getting a hit done or something?"

"Don't pretend you don't like having me here," Tae smirks and punches Jungkook lightly on the arm. 

"I don't."

Tae frowns, "You used to be a lot more fun."

"Well, I'm not anymore, so leave me alone." Jungkook brushes past Taehyung to get to the kitchen. But he gets stopped once more when Tae grabs his arm. 

He looks at Tae in annoyance, "What is it?"

"I should be asking you that. The last time I saw you was a year ago and you were my same old Kook. What happened-"

"I grew up, okay?" Jungkook yanks his arm back and continues his trek to the kitchen to scrounge through the fridge. 

"Growing up doesn't equal being an asshole to your best friend," Tae mutters before moving to the couch and plopping down onto it, now in just as much of a funk as Jungkook is.

The younger boy pulls a bottle of soju out of the fridge and glances at his friend sitting on the couch, his brows furrowed and his arms crossed over his chest. 

Jungkook purses his mouth before moving over to the couch and holding the bottle out to Tae. 

The older boy looks away in a huff. 

Jungkook sighs, "Look, Tae. I'm sorry, okay?"

Taehyung glances at him, "Sorry for what?"

Jungkook fights the urge to roll his eyes, "For being an asshole." 

Taehyung snatches the bottle and opens it with ease, taking a quick sip before grinning at Jungkook, "Ok. I forgive you, you little shit."

Jungkook's nose twitches in irritation but he doesn't say another word. 

"Well, I'm hungry," Tae says simply, taking another swig. 

"Me too." Jungkook sighs, sitting on the couch. 

"We need to go grocery shopping." Tae looks pointedly at his young friend. 

They sit there in silence for a minute before Jungkook heaves a huge sigh, "We can go on Sunday."

"Why not today?" 

"Because they have a lot more deals on Sunday," Jungkook says, making Tae choke on his next drink. 

"The fuck, Jeon? What are you, an old woman?" He wipes his lips, smiling at the glare Jungkook gives him. 

"No, I just prefer not to spend a fortune on things like food."

Tae shakes his head in disbelief, "Who the fuck are you these days?"

Jungkook just stands up to head to the bathroom, "I'm taking a shower. There's some ramen in the pantry." 

"I'm sick of ramen," Tae moans. 

"Good." ______________

You swipe the lip gloss over your lips gently, not wanting too much. 

You never really wear make-up but you decided you wanted to try it out today and ask Jungkook how it looks. Mina is usually the one to tell you all the things you can do to improve it or tell you how good it looks. Since your best friend won't be back for another three weeks, you suppose Jungkook will have to do. 

You look at the simple look you did, with just a little coverage, some mascara, gloss, and a tiny bit of blush. You think it looks okay, it's definitely a subtle difference. 

Then you hurry to your closet to get out your favorite white skirt. You decide to wear your peach blouse today as well since it always lifts your mood and you could definitely use a mood-lifter. 

When you're finished pulling your clothes on, you look at your phone and notice that it's a little after noon. 

"Oh!" You run out to grab your purse, tripping a little on your own feet before you get on the ground and pull your shoes on. 

By the time you're running down your steps, Jungkook is wondering if you've forgotten your plans as he stands downstairs and looks at the time on his phone. 

Then he looks up to see you bounding down the steps, your hair flying around and your skirt hiked up as you hold it so you don't trip. 

His eyebrows shoot up as you stumble in front of him. 

"So-Sorry I'm late." You huff out as you struggle to get your hair out of your lip gloss where it decided to stick. 

Jungkook shakes his head, "You're not late. I just got here." He isn't sure why he lies to make you feel better, but he does. 

Then he notices that you're wearing make-up. It's not a lot, a very light look. But, it doesn't look that bad-

He shakes his head again to clear it. 

No. No, no, no. 

Jungkook clears his throat as you watch him curiously, "Y-You okay, Jungkook?" 

He nods, "Fine. Let's go."

Then he turns and starts to walk briskly.

You hurry to catch up with him. 

-

"You p-pick the food thi-this time." You say with a smile when he asks you what you want for lunch. 

Jungkook looks around, then he points to a little restaurant, "How about that place?"

Well, that was easy. 

You nod, "Sure! I've n-never been there."

"Me neither," Jungkook admits as you two make your way there. 

You laugh at that and Jungkook finds himself fighting a smile. 

Stop it. 

Stupid. 

Jungkook opens the door and walks in, once again leaving you to grab the door before it hits you. You brush it off and follow him in. 

"Table for two?"

You see a girl in a black and white dress holding two menus and smiling at the two of you. Jungkook nods uncertainly and you two follow her to a table in the middle of the room.  

After you sit, you look around and see a few couples eating at different tables around the restaurant. You look at Jungkook to see he's already looking through the menu. 

"This place is fancier than it looked from the outside," Jungkook says with a frown as he looks over the options. He hadn't meant to take you to a nice place. 

You grab your menu and open it up, almost gasping at the prices. 

Then you look at Jungkook again. He glances up to see your huge eyes peeking at him from over your menu. 

"L-let's get out of h-here." You whisper suddenly. 

"What?" He whispers back. 

You glance behind you to see the waitress coming over with some water for you both. She sets it down and smiles graciously. 

"Would you like to order some other drinks?" She asks politely. 

You look at Jungkook in a panic. 

He gulps and looks back at the waitress cluelessly. You realize he is just out of his element as you are, so you speak up. 

"C-Could we have another m-minute p-please?" 

Her whole face changes when she hears your voice. Her eyebrow twitches and she bites back a laugh as she bows and moves away. 

You have no idea why she did that so you just brush it off, but Jungkook has a feeling it had to do with your stutter. He looks at you as you glance around the fancy room cluelessly, that same feeling coming over him that he got the other day. He pushes it down again. 

Then he jumps a little when you take his menu away from his face and whisper, "C-Come on, let-let's escape while she isn't l-looking." 

Jungkook stares at you like you're crazy when you watch her walk away into the kitchen before jumping out of your chair. 

"We haven't even b-bought anything yet. Co-Come on!" Then you reach over and grab his hand, dragging a very confused Jungkook out of his chair and practically running out of the restaurant. 

You're giggling like a little school girl as you run down the sidewalk, still holding onto Jungkook's hand tightly. He doesn't fight it, just follows you until you run into a small dress shop. 

When you finally let go of his hand, you turn and the smile on your face is bright as you reach a hand up to cover your mouth. You can't seem to stop laughing at the situation. 

Jungkook is frozen in his place, still trying to figure out what just happened. 

"W-We should find somewhere else to eat f-food." You say, still giggling a little.

Finally, Jungkook seems to come out of his shock and nods, "Uh, yeah...where should we go?"

You shrug, "It's s-still your tu-turn to pick." 

Jungkook can't help staring as you blink a few times, looking around the shop, then your head cocks to the side for a second. 

It's almost like you can't control it. 

Then you look back at him and notice him staring at you, making your already pink cheeks turn even pinker. 

"Uh, y-you okay Jungkook?" 

You snap in front of his face and he blinks back into reality, "Oh. Oh yeah, sorry." He rubs the back of his neck, feeling awkward that you caught him staring at you. 

You just send him a bright smile and shake your head, blinking hard a few times, "It's okay, I-I b-blank out sometimes t-too." 

Jungkook takes a deep breath and looks out the window, watching people walking by on the sidewalk. 

"Let's just find some food. I'm starving." He mumbles, then he hurries out of the shop, you hot on his heels. 

You two find a small cafe that isn't nearly as fancy as the other place and go inside. 

Jungkook leads you to a table for two and you take a seat. There are already menus on the table and you reach for one. 

Jungkook reaches at the same time and your hand brushes his. He pulls back like you burned him and you look at him apologetically, "S-Sorry."

He just swallows and gestures for you to take one, so you do. 

"Ohh, this looks m-much better." You say happily when you glance over the menu. 

Jungkook mumbles an agreement, relieved you two aren't at the other place anymore. As much as he hates to admit it to himself, he's glad you got both of you out of that. 

You end up ordering a few different dishes that you agree to share so you can try more things. There isn't much talk until the food comes, then you're both too busy stuffing your faces to speak. 

When you've had your fill, you sit back and sigh, rubbing your tummy with your hand. "Ohh, I'm so f-full," You moan, "Lo-Look, I've got a food b-baby!" You exclaim, laughing. 

Jungkook snickers for a second before smothering it and continuing to eat the rest of the food that you can't stomach. 

You frown, wondering why he won't just let himself laugh. Then you decide right then and there that you'll get him to laugh someday, whatever it takes. 

Jungkook ends up asking for a box for the leftovers because apparently, he isn't a bottomless pit like you initially thought. He explains when he sees the confused look on your face, "I was going to bring some back for my friend if that's alright?"

"Oh! Of c-course." You say with a smile. Jungkook wonders again how you can smile so much all the time and not have sore cheeks. 

You and Jungkook bicker for a moment over who pays the bill, then you end up deciding to split it up. Jungkook pays for more than half of it, insisting that he ate more anyway. When the bill is paid and the rest of the food is packed up, you two head out. 

Jungkook looks up at the clouds for a minute before speaking, "So, what should we do now?"

You're quiet for a minute, then you hold up a hand, "I h-have an idea!" 

Jungkook nods, "What is it?"

"F-Follow me." Then you scurry away. 

-

Jungkook looks at you in confusion. 

You had him sit down on a big rock in the nearby park as you dug through your bag. Now, you're finally pulling out a sketch pad and some pencils. 

"Want t-to draw?" You ask happily. 

Jungkook feels a pinch in his chest at the sight of blank paper and colored pencils. He hasn't picked up a colored pencil since he was fifteen years old. 

Since right before this all started...

He snaps out of it when you gently place a blank piece of paper on his lap. Then you pick out all the colors of the rainbow and reach out to grab his hand. You open his hand and place the pencils in his waiting palm. 

Jungkook feels his palms get sweaty when he closes his fingers around the pencils.

"Th-There you go. Now, d-draw whatever you'd l-like." You say, the teacher in you coming out. 

You see a small smile on his face before he again hides it and adjusts himself on the rock. He hands the pencils back to you, pushing them into your hands roughly. 

"I don't want to, thanks though." 

You frown at that, wondering why he's upset all of a sudden. 

"Did I d-do something wro-wrong?" You ask anxiously, aware of his change in behavior. 

"I'm tired is all," Jungkook says as he stands up suddenly, the piece of paper you gave to him floating down next to you on the ground. You take it carefully and place it in your bag along with the pencils. 

"Ok. I'll j-just go home then." You say, picking yourself up off the ground, "You sh-should go get some r-rest, Jungkook." You say kindly, putting your purse over your shoulder. Jungkook doesn't meet your eyes as he nods. 

"See you later," Jungkook says stiffly before turning and walking away. 

You bite your lip, waving goodbye to him even though he can't see you.

-

Jungkook runs up the stairs to his apartment, bursting through the door and tugging his shoes off. He notices that Tae isn't here as he walks over and sits on his bed. 

What the hell is the matter with him?

Why does he feel like this?

Suddenly the door opens and Taehyung struts in, pulling his shoes off and dropping them by the door. Jungkook looks up and does a double-take when he sees his friend. 

Taehyung is in a black and white suit, the first few buttons of his shirt undone, the tie loosened and his black hair a bit messed up. He looks rumpled like he was just in a fight. But that isn't what takes Jungkook by surprise. 

His friend is covered in bright red blood.  

And he's smiling brightly, his white teeth a shining contrast against the dark stains on his clothes. 

Jungkook swallows, "What the fuck, Tae?"

Taehyung just grins wider, "I win." 

Jungkook hangs his head, "You came up the damn stairs like that? You fucking dumbass. What if someone saw you?"

"No one saw me, chill JK!" Taehyung walks over and holds his hand out, "I believe you owe me something." 

Jungkook fishes his wallet out of his back pocket and pulls out the amount they promised before shoving it into Tae's bloody chest. 

Then he walks to the kitchen and grabs the to-go box he brought back. He holds it up for Tae to see, "This is for you. Wash up before you eat it though."

Taehyung walks over and touches Jungkook lightly on the chin, "Thanks, sweetie." Jungkook pulls away, feeling something on his face that was on Tae's finger. He reaches up to wipe the blood off of his chin, "Go wash up," He snaps. 

Tae just nods and saunters off into the bathroom. 

A few hours later, Jungkook is in bed and listening to Taehyung rant about how fucking satisfying it was to rid this world of that rapist bastard and how Jungkook should've seen the look on his hit's face when he realized who he was and why he was there. 

"So, how is your hit coming along? How is ___ doing?" Tae asks suddenly. 

Jungkook tenses at the sound of your name, then he remembers that Taehyung saw the file and that's how he knows your name. 

"I'll be done soon," Jungkook assures him quietly. 

"Mm." Tae responds, then he yawns, "What does she look like anyway? I didn't get to see since you tore up the picture."

Jungkook swallows thickly, "Why does it matter?"

"Is she hot?"

"No."

"Come on, I bet she's a fucking cutie. That's why you're so down in the dumps." 

"She's just a fucking idiot. She's annoying, stupid, ugly, and can't even speak correctly." Jungkook huffs out in a single breath before turning on his side and slamming his head down on his pillow again. 

The silence after that is deafening. 

"The fuck you mean she can't speak correctly?" Taehyung guffaws suddenly. 

"It means exactly how it sounds. She's just a worthless nobody." Jungkook spits. 

Tae laughs quietly, "Damn, that's harsh, Kook. Even for you."

"Shut the hell up and go to sleep."

"As you wish. Night, JK."

"Goodnight." Jungkook grits out. 

When he's finally able to drift off to sleep, Jungkook finds himself in an apartment that he's never been in before. His brain tells him that it's his target's place. 

He looks around, wondering why it's so quiet. He walks to the back, looking at all of the childish pictures decorating the walls of the hallway. 

"Hello?" He calls out cautiously. 

When he gets no answer, he walks into the room at the end of the hall. There's a big bed with a giant octopus stuffie on it. Next to the bed is a pair of pink slippers. 

Jungkook turns and walks into the bathroom inside the room, there's no one. When he moves to leave, he sees his reflection in the mirror and freezes.

He's covered in blood. 

A dark crimson color decorating every inch of him. 

Jungkook turns and sees the bed again, but this time, there's someone in it. He walks out of the bathroom and sees a body lying motionless on the mattress. It's also covered in blood. 

His heart rate picks up as he sees sudden flashing images of the target, holding his hand and dragging him out of a restaurant, laughing giddily. Then you're kneeling in front of him on the grass and offering him a blank piece of paper, "You can d-draw anything, Jungkook." You stand up and swing your arms out, "Draw m-me!" 

Then the images are gone and he once again sees the lifeless body on the bed. It's wearing a long white skirt and a peach-colored shirt, their socks are bright pink with frills. He can't stop seeing all of the little details. 

Jungkook stops breathing as he inches closer to see the face.

A feeling of dread washes over him as he steps closer and closer. 

"J-Jungkook?" A small voice whispers somewhere near him, but he doesn't stop walking closer. He needs to see it. He needs to see their face. 

"Jungkook, I th-thought you were m-my friend-"

He swallows thickly his throat suddenly dry as he is about to see the face of the person he just killed. Then someone walks through the bedroom door, he looks up and sees Taehyung smirking, covered in blood as well. 

"Nice, JK. I guess you really had it in you." 

The small voice doesn't stop as Jungkook turns back to see hair covering the girl's face. He reaches over and moves the hair gently-

"J-Jungkook-"

"Jungkook..."

"Jungkook!"

"JUNGKOOK!"

Jungkook shoots straight up, his eyes wide open as he grabs at his chest. He starts to cough while he feels himself, trying to make sure he isn't covered in blood. 

He's in his own bed. 

Fucking hell he's in his own bed.

"Shit, the hell kind of dream were you having?" Taehyung's voice rings out next to him. Jungkook flinches and looks to the side to see Tae sitting on the edge of his bed. 

"You're sweating like a turkey the day before Thanksgiving." Tae laughs.

Jungkook ignores him and stumbles out of bed, trying to get to the bathroom.

Taehyung watches in confusion as Jungkook fumbles his way into the bathroom and then he hears his younger friend fall on the ground before he starts to gag.

"Hey, whoa. You okay, Jeon?" Tae gets up and moves to the bathroom to see Jungkook hunched over the toilet and throwing up whatever was in his stomach. 

The older boy plugs his nose and gags at the sight, "Shit, Kook. Fuck." 

By the time Jungkook's stomach is emptied of its contents, Tae has all the young man's clothes off apart from his boxers and has tossed him into the shower to rinse him clean. Tae gags again at the smell as he rinses Jungkook off before putting some shampoo in his hair and rinsing him again.

"Fucking pain in my ass," Tae mutters angrily. 

Once Jungkook is all cleaned off, Taehyung grabs him some fresh boxers and a pair of sweats to put on. He tosses them on the closed toilet seat and closes the door behind him so Jungkook can get dressed in private. 

A few minutes later, Jungkook comes out of the bathroom, his hair wet but he's clean and in nice new clothes. His cheeks are pink from embarrassment, but Tae just waves it off when he tries to speak. 

"Ah shut up. I know, ya ate something bad. Blah blah blah. We never speak of this again, understood?" 

Jungkook just nods at Tae's words, then he speaks up quietly, "Want to go shopping now?"

The older boy stands up and claps his hands, "Finally! We'll have something to eat around here."

Jungkook is relieved that it's all in the past by the time they get to the grocery store, but that relief is short-lived when he sees a girl in a long pink skirt and light yellow shirt carrying a basket down the candy aisle right in front of them. 

She trips a little on thin air but catches herself, her usual bright smile gracing her features still. 

Then she looks up and sees him, her smile getting wider as she raises her hand to get his attention.

Fucking hell.

____________________

a/n: so sorry its late my loves, but i hope you liked it!

[waywardsummoner46]

(Un)Pleasantville

A/N: Second one shot, yay! Definitely toying with expanding this as well as my Lucifer!Sam and Michael!Dean fic. I’m open to requests and let me know if you want to be added to my tag list (never had one before, oo this is exciting). As ever enjoy the fic and let me know what you think!

Word count ~ 1620

______________________________________________________________

Alright so, not to sugar coat anything but this was an absolute nightmare.

  You, Sam and Castiel had gotten word of a hunt - well more Sam but that’s besides the point - and had left yesterday. You’d paused at a gas station outside of a place called Charming Acres but the dude at the counter said something was off about the place… so naturally (or supernaturally) you all went to check it out. And a dude’s head just completely blew up out of the blue after he came in for his phone?

  Pulling into the town itself, now that was something. You felt as though you’d walked into a 1950s sitcom about some cheesy, lovesick marriage story. Something that you’d like to stay well away from. Consequently, you met a cheesy, lovesick couple called Justin and Cindy Smith who said they’d heard absolute zilch about any deaths and “this is a very close-knit community, nothing goes on here without everyone knowing” blah blah blah.

  Anyway, the strangest thing for you wasn’t the clothes, nor was it the 1950s behaviour, no, it was the fact Justin didn’t seem to recognise what a phone was. You silently ogled at him but he paid no attention to you. So now you definitely thought something was off about this place. 

  After that fateful encounter, you all stumbled upon the local diner “Harrington’s” who was run by the Mayor Chip Harrington and his daughter Sunny. You thought Sunny was a very sweet young woman who honestly looked like someone you’d get along with, however you noticed her head perked up once conversation about Conrad (watermelon head guy) started. Castiel so delicately stated, “Oh no! His head exploded” rendering everyone in the diner speechless.

  The Mayor stuttered for a moment then questioned “Excuse me?”

  “Like a ripe melon in the sun.”

  Whilst this confrontation was happening, Sunny gave you and Sam milkshakes, as Cas had refused earlier, so you were busy trying not to spit it out as you found that conversation hilarious. Chippy boy gave you the information where Conrad was last seen and then you all took off but not before Sam abruptly said “Alright, you know what? We’re leaving, bye.” And that was that.

  When you’d all arrived at the boarding house, a too cheerful Ms. Dowling greeted you at the door, and creepily said she knew you were coming because it’s a small town and things travel fast. Honestly, what is it with these people? From there, and after a brief explanation on why you all were there, she showed you to Conrad’s room and said he moved in a few weeks ago.

  Being your observant self, you came to the conclusion that the bed had been barely used but there were passionate and just plain disgusting letters under the mattress addressed from Sunny (so maybe she wasn’t so innocent, neither were you).

   At the same time Sam suggested you all stay overnight and divulge and investigate more thoroughly in the morning and yet his almost desperate tone of voice put you on edge. Obviously, you were all tired and weary but Sam was just on a whole new level of “oh this is amazing, we should stay here because it’s so cool”. So reluctantly, you and Cas agreed but not before exchanging an uncertain glance with each other, the intuition of a teenager and an angel right?

  Sam and you were sharing a room since Cas had insisted on his own, and instantly something changed with how he addressed you. “(Y/N), please take your shoes off, you’ll ruin this lovely carpet,” and “(Y/N), sweetheart, don’t you think wearing something a little more lady-like would be more appropriate, hm?” 

 All you could do what was sit and stare because not once had Sam ever been this pedantic or pathetic and he certainly had never called you “sweetheart”, so too baffled to engage in intelligent conversation, you went to bed just after Sam as you were too busy burning incredulous holes into the back if his hairy head. Struggling to grasp sleep, you softly whispered a “What the fuck?” and thank god Sam didn’t hear you because you would’ve absolutely hated the outcome.

  The next morning you were woken up quite rudely by an angel banging on your door. Blearily you struggled out of bed and opened the door, rubbing your eyes. “What time is it?” You said.

 “Time to get up, get dressed and Sam-Sam?”

 Noting Castiel’s confusion, you turned quickly in what was once Sam’s direction only to find your lovable older brother had disappeared to Chuck knows where. Great, man hunt at ridiculous o’clock in the morning. Cas immediately raced down to the stairs to seemingly find Ms. Dowling leaving you rushing to change into something more appropriate that pyjamas.

 Descending the stairs you notice the front door open and a frantic looking Castiel waiting in the Impala, waving for you to get in. Shouting a quick “thank you!” to Ms. Dowling, you sprant for the car and sat in Sam’s seat.

 Castiel started the car and you asked “So? We know where he went?” 

  “I’ve been told he left this morning saying he was going on a walk to the diner and wanted a milkshake, but only after screaming at Ms. Dowling who had her eardrums blocked with ear plugs,” he said. You nodded, absorbing the information and pondered why Sam would just up and leave for a milkshake.

  “Cas, you don’t think that there’s something wrong with the milkshake? Or like, this town in general? Because I do and Sam was being a real overbearing douchebag after you left yesterday and acting completely out of character.”

 He didn’t hesitate to nod his head, “I must admit, the strange customs have piqued my interest and Sam did drink quite a lot of that milkshake yesterday so it might be a possibility that there is a supernatural force going on here.”

  He looked like he wanted to say more, but you’d turned a corner and arrived just before the diner. Castiel left the car and went to inspect whilst you decided a smart move would be to ring Sam’s phone… only to find it ringing in the back of the car. Typical frustrating Winchester. 

  Placing your hands on your head, you massaged your temples and tried to think of any reasonable explanation as to what on earth was going on. 

 You heard the driver’s door being opened and looked over to see Castiel already turning the keys in the ignition. “He’s gone to Mr and Mrs. Smith's house,” was the only explanation you received.

  Suddenly determined, you nodded and said, “Alright, we’re getting somewhere, onward!” So, the car started and picked up speed, as you made your way to the Smith’s house you took a chance to observe the area a bit more.

  It was definitely something outdated and old-fashioned but the people did look happy, even if the shops were called something despicable like “The Rainbow Restaurant". It was very bright and colourful and you didn’t doubt that even if a thunderstorm hit, these people would still be acting on top of the world.

  Upon finally reaching your destination, you took notice of the white-picket fence and the massive garden. The house was huge and definitely unnecessary for only two people. Regardless, you and Cas sauntered up to the door and knocked three times respectively. On the third Cindy opened the door with a clear smile on her face and a very pleasant scent of lavender perfume. “Hello, can I help you?”

 You and Cas glanced at each other before he answered, “First of all, I’d like to offer my condolences for your husband's death but we really need to know-”

  He was cut off by a very confused Cindy Smith who said, “My husband? Honey, I think you might be mistaken. My darling husband is in the kitchen, fetching his newspaper. Justin, dear, come say hello!” 

 Again, Cas looked like he wanted to continue but a very familiar, moose-like voice interrupted “Coming darling! Won’t take two slices  of a carrot cake!” It was, unmistakably, Sam.  You gaped and stared questioningly at Cas in silent question. He merely returned your look.

  Moments later, Sam appeared in the doorway. Wearing a pair of glasses. A ponytail. And a fucking cardigan. A cardigan, because why the hell not? He wrapped his hands around Cindy’s waist and looked at us in confusion. Or sorry, at Cas in confusion, but when his gaze landed on you his face went more stern. 

 “Young lady, do you not remember what I said about un lady-like clothing? Because those denim jeans and that ridiculous jumper are hardly suitable for my daughter, little miss. I suggest you get in this house right now and put on that lovely dress your mother bought you,” he basically seethed.

  Now you were definitely the equivalent of a fish, with your wide mouth and wide eyes. You managed to compose yourself a bit before stuttering “Sam?”

 His eye twitched and there was no warning before he grabbed your arm and pulled you in the house then promptly dragged you into the sitting area. He guided you to the sofa on the left of the fireplace and very softly explained, “My sweet honey, I know that this is hard for you, but your mother and I want what’s best for you. Now, be a good girl and wait here until your mother and I have finished our pleasant conversation with our new neighbour, hm?” Then he planted a kiss on your forehead and returned to Cindy’s side to continue conversing with Cas.

  All you could think was: what the fuck?

[ddarker-dreams]

anon asked: OMG pls pls pls could you write a possessive yandere Diluc??? I'm sorry if this is generic...

[repost because someone mentioned this post wasn’t showing up in tags... tumblr i s2g...]

Diluc:

Diluc has seen the worst and best that humanity has to offer. Regrettably, the worst is what has made a lasting impression, darkness waiting to strike in every crevice. He’s always done his best to protect everyone. This is amplified to a new, unprecedented level when his obsession for you takes root.

There are plenty of threats to be wary of -- Diluc will reason -- but he starts actively looking for them in the wrong places. No longer is he concerned with just making sure you get home safe, unbothered by monsters. Now it starts to seep into your relationships. Innocent gestures are mistaken as malevolent, Diluc stepping in where it’s wholly unnecessary.

Compared to most yanderes, Diluc has commendable self-control. He won’t openly lash out to anyone that speaks to you in a friendly manner. That doesn’t mean he’s not upset about it, he’s just used to hiding his emotions, and has had lots of practice suppressing everything. So while others chat you up, romantic intentions or not, he’ll slink off to sulk.

Surprise surprise, it’s Kaeya who catches onto this hidden behavior before anyone else can. Kaeya actively exacerbates the situation, quite literally adding fuel to the fire, unaware of the monster he’s awakening in the process. To his credit, Kaeye’s intentions would be in good fun. Maybe for some lighthearted teasing to laugh about later over drinks with you and your friends. Instead, he released a burden onto your life.

Kaeya might let a friend or two into Diluc’s “crush” on you, planning to see how far they can push it. He’ll throw an arm around your shoulder, whisper inside jokes into your ear to make you giggle, offer to walk you home, etc. Diluc begins to excuse himself from the room when this happens to get a hold of his kindling fury. Diluc knows Kaeya is just trying to get a rise from him, that he’s giving him what he wants. But god, that twisting sensation in his stomach when Kaeya is the one touching you, getting that melodic laugh, and being the center of your attention... it’s unbearable.

Diluc feels like it’s such a shame. He’s a busy man, so being around the same areas as you is a rare treat, that’s now being tainted. Can he not have this single enjoyment in life? To make matters worse, he’s now hyper-aware of anyone possibly flirting with you. Diluc is growing paranoid that while he’s unsure of how to pursue you, someone else might come along and take you away.

While trying to provoke Diluc, Kaeya tends to be on the receiving end of some biting language. With an unimpressed expression and even tone, Diluc will tear into him for his obnoxious behavior, even if you express that you don’t mind. It’s remarkable he’s managed to control his darker urges for this long. Should Kaeya -- or anyone else for that matter -- not get the hint, Diluc lists some concealed threats.

He’ll start physically blocking anyone’s path to you, looming over almost like a bodyguard. Diluc’s presence is intimidating and effective in warding off people he finds irritating. He’ll act like he doesn’t know what you’re talking about if you mention how close he is, but there’s an almost indiscernible blush on his cheeks.

While you’re not paying attention, Diluc will motion to his weapon, scaring off anyone brave enough to come speak to you. When you turn around he’s back to wiping down glasses. If he needs to distract you, he’ll offer free drinks, not that he ever makes you pay anyway. The few times you do manage to convince him to let you pay for your own tab, the money is “mysteriously” sent back to your residence by mail.

Bonus Childe:

Childe is not held back by the same moral qualms that Diluc is. This, mixed with the extensive network of Fatui agents at his fingertips, makes for a horrific combination. It’s a disaster waiting to happen. Whether you’re aware of it or not, he’s already having people keep tabs on you. This includes people that you speak to as well. While the Fatui don’t entirely understand why they’re being asked to watch you, like hell they’re going to question a Harbinger on the bizarre orders.

You’ll be having a pleasant conversation with someone, only to feel a shadow looming over you. Then there’ll be an arm wrapped firmly around your shoulder. Childe would act dismissive of whoever you were speaking to, making up some excuse about why he needs your attention more and whisking you away. All the while looking back and giving the unfortunate individual a soul-shaking look.

He projects a lot into your conversations. Childe asks with a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes if you’re trying to make him jealous. “As much as I like you -- and trust me when I say I do -- you should be careful with that.”

Anyone who makes the mistake of flirting with you gets it far worse. Childe will judge them accordingly later when being filled in on your movements for the day, sitting and listening with an eerie calm as his agents detail the person’s description. There’s a myriad of ways the Fatui could make this person’s life a living hell. From the shackles of debt tightening, harassment, to even making them disappear entirely. It all depends on Childe’s mood that day.

Childe would actually find it interesting if the person has a Vision themselves. He views it as a challenge of sorts. Malice would be oozing out of him at the thought of proving his strength to you, that no one else could come close to the claim he has. To avoid any unwanted attention, Childe would wait to strike until the person is traveling alone, channeling his Delusion alongside his Vision. It’d be an awful sight.

When he talks to you next, you’ll notice he looks oddly content. If you’re brave enough to ask why this is, he’ll give some ominous answer, that leaves your body going cold. “Hm, I really need to know. Did you think that they were any match for me? That by batting your eyelashes all prettily, you’d convince them to get rid of me? Well, whatever the case, this should be proof I’m not going anywhere.”

Childe will mention that he even was kind enough to get you a gift. A Fatui agent will reach into their bag, giving him a piece of cloth, which he then pretends to you. You’ll likely be rendered sick by the sight. It’s a torn piece of their outfit, a testimony to Childe’s victory. He’ll tilt his head and playfully ask if you don’t like it, before taking his leave for the night.

If you ever plead with him to leave the people you interact with alone, he might look like he’s giving it some thought. Childe’s suggestion of how you could convince him to do this is equally unpleasant.

“You could always spend your time with me, that way this wouldn’t be an issue. Give it some real thought. I’m looking forward to hearing your answer.”

[waywardimpalawriter]

hi! i really love your writing, and was really hoping you could do another dean winchester x f! plus size reader. possibly were they are best friends and she is pining for someone else. so before she can make her move on someone else he stops her and confess his love for her. idk maybe some angst/fluff/smut?? you don’t have to if u don’t want to, it’s totally up to you. like no pressure at all! but seriously, i do really love all your writing and i wanted to say thank you for everything u write and do!! <3 once again no pressure at all with this ask, but overall thank you!!<3

Just one good reason

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Plus Size Female Reader

SPN mixed Bingo Square: Hurt/Comfort Square

Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester,

Setting: mid season 11

Rating: E (explicit), NSFW, 18+ only please

Warnings: angst, smut, yearning, grumpy and sweet Dean (yes they need a warning),

Word count: 12,805 (Truly Was suppose to be this long. I blame Dean for this.)

Summary: He’s given a million reasons, damaged goods, blood on his hands, nightmares, scared in so many ways. But most of all that he’s not good enough. Just when you’re ready to walk out that door he gives you one good reason to stay.

Notes: Thank you Anon for this request, I love writing for Dean so very much and to add a plus size gal in as well that just makes my day. I do hope you’ll enjoy this story. The song “Million Reasons” both version’s by Lady Gaga and Briana Buckmaster are inspiration for this story.

Tag list: Is open for all character’s and series I write for.

@spnmixedbingo

Dean Winchester list: @akshi8278

Just one good reason list: @chickensarentcheap

@impala1967dwinchester, @lilacprincessofrecovery, @superavengerpotterstar @jbbarnesgirl @sofreddie  @slightlyobsessedwithissues  

Ancient hinges creak wearily, firm hand pushing to hold open the heavy door letting you and Sam pass by. Fatigued sigh leaves slightly chapped lips, “It’s good to be home.” Taking the stairs down two at a time, tossing duffle bags towards the war table.

“Going soft on us old man?” Teasing quip tugging a smile from your lips as you drop down into the nearest chair. “Getting use to having that soft bed under your ass now huh?”

Scoffing, whiskey flecked green eyes settling on your plush frame, “Woman you forget we’re the same age first off.” Playfully stocking towards you, hands placed on the back of your chair to cage you in. “Second damn right that bed is magical, memory form baby, it remembers me,” poking your side, giggle leaving your lips body squirming in the seat.

“Stop,” pleading tone entering your voice, trying to evaded his questing hands trailing along your curvy sides. “Please,” puppy eyes begging for mercy, his hands aren’t willing to give. Though you can’t bring yourself to care seeing the weight, even for a moment, disappear from his countenance. Or the fact your sides aren’t the ticklish spot on your body, moving in the seat purely for show.

“Say your sorry for calling me old,” brow lifting watching you squirm under his hands. Wishing and not for the first time, he could have your soft body slotted against his harder frame. Knowing how well you fit just in a different way, one that hasn’t been enough for a long time.

Giggles burst from your lips, hands flat against the hard plains of his chest tugging on the dark blue t-shirt to distract from his plans. Pushing him away which had as much of an effect as a toy bulldozer did against a real brick wall. “Okay, okay I’m sorry, promise I’m sorry,” gasping for breath giving a hard tap to his shoulder.

“Now who’s giving up too soon?” Hands pause as his eyes catch yours for a long moment. Smiling face beaming up at him, heart beating triple time and not from assaulting you with his hands. Unable to resist the urge to touch your soft skin. Callused fingers come up to barely graze just under your left eye carefully capturing the eyelash on the tip of his forefinger from your cheek, “Make a wish.”

Leaning forward to place your lips close to the offered digit, eyes closed to blow a cold stream, eyelash fluttering away unseen. Keeping your libs lowered for a bit longer torn between what you truly desire and what’s within your grasp. Whiskey roughened voice breaking through your thoughts, sending a pleasurable shiver down your spine.

“What you wish for?” Swallowing hard, beloved eyes flutter open to ensnare his in there depths. Catching something simmering just below but disappears quicker than a jack rabbit running from a coyote.

Clearing yours throat, “Can’t tell ya Deano won’t come true if I do.” Giving a smile, pressing him backwards to raise and grab your duffle bag. Cell phone signaling an incoming text message making you pull the the black case wrapped piece of tech out of your front jeans pocket. Bright smile pulling your lips higher seeing just who’s messaged you. “Catch y’all later.”

“Someone good?” Sam speaks for the first time since coming home. Watching the scene between his brother and best friend. Wanting to strangle the both of you for not seeing what’s right in front of you.

Head snapping up from buried in your phone to stare wide eyed at Sam, “Yes, no I mean it’s nothing but could be something.”

“Will again?” Peripheral catching the dark scowl pass over Dean’s features before disappearing behind a mask of indifference.

Humming sweetly, sparkle lighting your eyes that go back to your phone for a moment. “He’s asking if we can meet up tomorrow for lunch, trying to choose where to eat.”

“What about,” clearing his throat to unclog the emotions choking off the air to breath. “That little diner in town? It’s your favorite and serves the best pie aside yours of course.”

Trapping and tugging your bottom lip between nibbling teeth, head shaking in the negative. “Nope he’s not fond of greasy foods.”

‘Plus that’s our spot,’ unbridled thought slides into your mind and you want to look over at Dean to remind him. But push those thoughts aside with a wave, heading towards the bedrooms carefully making sure not to bump into a wall while responding.

Green eyes follow till you round the corner, heart catching in his throat cursing himself for mentioning your diner. Knowing better yet wanting confirmation without asking if the spot is still special.

“You’re an idiot Dean,” shaggy brown head shaking as he to snaps up his duffle bag to head towards his room. “The foundation is already there start building before it cracks.”

“Thanks Riddler, just cause I’m Batman doesn’t mean you have to be so fucking vague.” Left with his thoughts and the growing feeling he’s loosing you to another man. Dean leaves his stuff lay where it landed glancing over the chair you vacated not five minutes ago then heading towards the kitchen. In need of something harder than beer but settling for the dark brew being the only alcohol in the bunker.

Opening the fridge door, grabbing a brew his fingers brush against the clear plastic container holding a single slice of pecan pie. Eyes unseeing, drifting back into memories when the Mark of Cain still burned into his skin.

2015

Charlie’s dead, beaten, murdered and left in a pool of her own blood. Every time his eyes close she’s there, expressionless sea green eyes staring blankly into his own. Never hearing her snarky retorts, sassy ways or those hugs she gave. Staring into cold brown sludge, hands gripping the mug a little too tightly. Not sure why he chose to come here of all places. When he could’ve started out on his hunt for the Styne’s. Deep down though he knows the reason right as the little bell signals someone’s entered the small family owned diner. Knowing exactly who and trying to ready himself for your present.

Never ready for how your soft fingers brush along his temple, settling on his shoulder for a moment while you slide into the worn pleather covered booth. Trailing those gentle fingers down his black and grey plaid covered arm. Tugging one hand from around the ceramic cup to intertwine your fingers. Head coming to rest on his shoulder, no words just comfort in a time when he needs it most.

“You shouldn’t be here,” dark with hints of gravel and kissed with pain in the tone. Whiskey flicked green obits focus, for the first time on something besides the cup in his hands, landing on the top of your head.

Shrugging, “Where else should I be Dean?” Looking up at him sorrowful eyes meeting right when your other palm comes up to brush moisture from his cheek. Unnoticed tears sliding down cool cheeks, “You’re my best friend there’s no place I’d rather be then right here helping you.”

“You could get killed,” the very through twists his heart till almost bursting. Brings bile to rise in the back of his throat, slithering through his system to settle unpleasantly in the pit of his stomach. It’s one thing to loose Charlie a heavy casualty. But you, Dean isn’t sure he’d come back from the dark path he’d follow for vengeance.

Soft sad smile turns your lips barely upward, “Not gonna happen I have my knight in shining Impala to keep me safe.”

“I couldn’t keep Charlie safe how can I…”

Shaking your head, finger placed over his kissable lips, “You’ve given me a million reasons already Dean Winchester and I don’t believe a single one of them.” Resting your foreheads together a moment, tenderness skating across your veins for the man beside you, “You might not believe it but your a good man.”

Pie filled plate slides across scared formica table top, metal fork clattering against the ceramic pushed in front. “More coffee,” sweet feminine voice floats from beside you.

Nodding, “Please, sugar and cream too.” Giving her a smile that doesn’t reach your eyes feeling Dean stir beside you.

“Black like my soul you know that sweetheart,” slightly chapped lips brush your cheek. A simple thank you for this act of kindness he feels undeserving of. If he hadn’t already been head over heels in love with you this sweet gesture would’ve sealed the deal.

Breathless gasp parts your lips as you turn finding Dean closer almost invading your space. Leather, motor oil and Irish Spring tickle your nose, eyes locking with those agony drenched obits, making another gasp exist your lungs. Heartache rocketing through your body, colliding with anger directed at the Styne’s.

“Eat your pie Winchester we’ll talk about that soul of yours later after dealing with the Styne’s.”

Heart freezing at the mention of the murdering family, “No,” rougher than intended, Dean grabs your chin twisting your face towards his. Rage hot and potent flaring through those beautiful greens. “No you will stay with Sam I’ll deal with them myself…”

“Dean you can’t be serious…” grabbing his wrist, pleading in your eyes for him to listen. Loosing Charlie splintered your heart, counting her as the sister you’ve never had. Her blood demanding revenge for the grievous act. But loosing Dean would kill you, knowing you never would come back from that agony.

“I am, deadly so. You try and sneak along I’ll toss that sexy ass outta Baby faster than you can pray to Castiel.”

Snorting, pulling your chin from his grasp, “You couldn’t lift me Winchester and you can’t stop me…” but the look he gives you does. Any farther flow of words halt in there bid to tumble out of your mouth.

“No I can’t,” callused palms cup your cheeks keeping you in place. Searching your eyes and making sure you understood, “I don’t want you to come with me Y/N. If there’s anytime to listen its now. I’ve lost one sister I didn’t want.” Bitting those words out to keep from speaking the others which threaten to pour from his being. “I can’t loose you,” resting your foreheads together again.

Nodding, trying to keep yourself from rubbing your cheek into his palm or worse press your lips against his. Lying to yourself isn’t something you normally do and you wouldn’t start now with the realization you were in love with your best friend and worried your going to loose him to the all consuming darkness.

You're giving me a million reasons to let you go

You're giving me a million reasons to quit the show

You're giving me a million reasons

Give me a million reasons

Giving me a million reasons

About a million reasons

Present

Downing the last of his long neck, drawing patterns over the hardwood table underneath with the condensation from the bottle. Eyes trained on that single slice of pie you’d bought him weeks ago.

“I wouldn’t eat that if I were you D,” mirth filled voice floats towards him before you reach his side in body.

Hand coming into view grabbing for the container to toss it out. But Dean’s quicker, “If you value your life, you’ll unhand my pie,” thick fingers circle your wrist pulling your plush body down beside him. “It’s not nice to steal a man’s pie woman,” keeping his tone light, playful and away from the looming fate he knows will visit upon his person once you figure out Will is the man you truly want. Deserving of your light, and laughter, the sweetness, of your beauty that Dean only hopes the other man will appreciate.

Gasping in mock outrage, “Who me?” Hand to heart trying to keep the laughter from your tone. “I would never deprive you of pie Deano. But I would that slice since I think it’s become a science experiment.”

Narrowing his eyes towards the offending sweet dessert, “It is not.” Poking twice before pulling the pie forward for a closer inspection. Musical laughter meeting his ears, smothering the smirk threatening to bloom over his lips. “Okay so maybe your right,” turning his pouting face towards you.

“Course I am,” giving him a wink then standing to toss the ruined sweets out. Pausing by the panty, you peek in unaware Dean’s watching you from his seat.

Teasing sway to your generous hips has his eyes tracking every movement. Bitting the inside of his cheek to keep from groaning at how temping you look. Thick thighs encased in blue denim jeans feet bare from wearing those steal toed Dr. Martins during hunts. Body stretching upwards, soft cotton baby blue tank top riding up to bare a silver of delicate skin to his eyes. Your fingers barely snag the sugar container’s edge, pulling it down to clasp against your ample chest.

Chastising himself for the erotic thoughts flipping through his mind on a single film reel. “What exactly are you doing sweetheart?” Carefully keeping his lower half away from your line of sight. Lest you find out the problem currently tenting his jeans, teeth gritting to stop himself from acting on all those thoughts.

“Never you mind Dean Winchester,” tossing over your shoulder, checking for vanilla extract, light syrup, and butter from the fridge. Last stop the freezer mentally trying to remember if you there's a pie shell left or would need to make one. Hoping for at least a single, since checking the flour stock and coming up almost empty. “Start a list for me please and put flour on it,” setting the three ingredients in your hands down. Turning back to open the metal door to peer into the freeze, swaying slighting to a song running through your head. A triumphant “Yes,” exists your lips, a little dance of excitement upon finding the last shell.

Damn near swallowing his tongue so entranced by your movements gulping different words back down to keep from making a total fool of himself. As he utters, “Not till I know exactly what your making over there Betty Crocker.”

“Resorting to blackmail now?” Brow arched, unconsciously licking your lips slowly. Unaware of Dean watching the path it takes across your pump bottom lip, tucking it between indenting teeth.

For distraction purposes, Dean pulls his phone from the front pocket of his jeans. Bringing up the list app a suggestion to simplify things you gave him months back. Forcing himself to focus on the small screen in his hands instead of the woman currently dancing around the kitchen. Pulling bowls, pots and pans out, one chance glance has an inaudible groan vibrating through his chest at the sight of your plush ass. Bent over shifting through sheet pans knowing which you look for as arousal flares to life so potent Dean turns quickly hiding his reacting. Planting his face in the palms of his hands, elbows bent to catch the weight. Fingers digging into eye sockets to use the pain and banish the thoughts from reappearing.

Frowning at his actions you come over after putting the pan on the counter. Fingers running through his hair, scraping the scalp with short nails. Pleased smile at the groan you pull from his lips as he rubs his head into your palm like a little puppy. “Something wrong Dean?” Worry dancing through the cadence of your voice other hand coming to rest on his shoulder.

“Fine,” head popping up, forcing your fingers to slide out of his hair. Taking a chance to glance up into your worried eyes. Underserving of your soft touch searing his skin. An itch to run from our presence skitters across his veins. “I’m fine sweetheart just tired.”

Searching his face, those whiskey flecked green eyes so unlike the blue-greens of Will’s, catching something hiding in those deep depths he’s trying to hide. Never fooled by words, always inspecting his actions and those little tells partially concealed though you know them all too well. “You’re covering something up Winchester I’ll get it out of you one way or another,” patting his cheek and stepping away.

‘I don’t want you to go on that date,’ on the tip of his tongue poised to leave his lips he keeps smashed together burying those feelings to not ruin this chance you have at an apple pie life. The very thought tears his heart, rendering another hole in the punched out organ. Though it’s his own fault for giving you a million reasons to keep that boundary line in place. Tip toeing almost across a few times, but always toeing the line keeping himself in check. Head snapping around when something hard hits the back of his head, scowl in place though it’s more playful than menacing. “Did you just…” glancing towards the floor to find a lone pecan on the ground behind him. Head tilted to the side, eyes narrowed on your face, which is the total opposite of his holding a sweetly innocent look concealing the trouble he knows you’ll cause. “Seriously a pecan? That could’ve done damage Babe Ruth.”

Eyes rolling, snort issuing from your up turned lips, “I don’t know what you speak of Dean I’m just here making a pie minding my own business. Can’t help it if a pecan has it out for you.”

“Possessed it must be,” voice pitched in a poor imitation of Master Yoda, getting a boo hiss from your general direction. “Though something tells me a certain someone threw the poor helpless nut.”

Shrugging, face neutral a picture of indifference with hands on your wide hips ingredients spread out over the counter. “Stop calling yourself names Dean it’s not nice.” Bottom lip trapped for a second to keep from giggling at the way he’s looking towards you.

Enjoying this moment of normalcy you’ve managed to capture in these dark and dangerous times. Thoughts skittering towards Will, if he’s able to put up with the hunters life style? Former Marine, Will knows so little of what truly goes bump in the night making you worry he wouldn’t feel at ease. It’s the reason you’ve hesitated each time he’s asked you out. Not wanting to drag someone else into a life of blood and death. Persistence and patience paid off when you finally agreed on a dinner date for tomorrow night. One your actually looking forward to.

But then you glance towards Dean, seeing the smile grace those soft looking lips, shinning in his whiskey flecked green orbs for the first time in months and you hesitate. Would you want to leave this life for a man who wouldn’t understand you not fully anyway? Or stay and remain the best friend till a hunt takes one of you out? Could you truly leave your home with the Winchesters, with Dean?

His voice breaks through the your thoughts, ruthful chuckle echoing through the room, “Haha sweetheart stop trying to be John Candy it ain’t workin for ya,” bending to scoop up the tossed nut a memory filters through his mind. Opening a wound he thought long since closed over soaked in whiskey and women who’s names he’s forgotten. Shaking the thought away to ask, “You gonna chunk a nut at your boyfriend tomorrow night too? Or is that reserved for me?”

Not sure why he’s even asking or teasing you about it or the fact there’s a bite to the tone. He shouldn’t care about a simple date, yet the thought twists his gut smile slipping from his lips as he looks down at the pecan in hand. Unwillingly letting those images fill and play before his eyes.

If I had a highway, I would run for the hills

If you could find a dry way, I'd forever be still

But you're giving me a million reasons

Give me a million reasons

Giving me a million reasons

About a million reasons

December 2011

Run down two room shack a nicer way of putting it truly, you think while pulling up outside next to Baby’s sleek black side. Hands gripping the steer wheel till knuckles hurt and you can focus again through the haze of tears spilling down your cold cheeks. Still trying to grasp the fact Bobby Singer legendary hunter, go to lore man, and surrogate father, dead by a bullet from Dick Roman’s gun. Itching for vengeance you try to quell for another time when you can let all the anger out. For right now you knew he needed you more than any strategy planning or revenge thought.

Remembering Sam’s voice shaking, laced with pain, peppered with rage but above all coated in sadness you could hear over the phone lines. Never hesitating to drop the case — for now — breaking speed limit in the need to reunite with your boys. You’d do anything for family even those who weren’t by blood. Learning a long time ago that family doesn’t end with the DNA flowing through your veins.

Shaking those thoughts from your mind and existing the car only to lean back in and grab the bags from the passenger side. Standing to full height to peer over the top locking eyes with those anger clouded greens. “No I didn’t bring you anything Winchester so don’t bother asking.” Trying to lighten the situation with poorly used humor.

Words fail to leave thinned lips as you pass by, hand holding the creaking barely held together door open for you. Following behind his voice scratchy from no use, “Sam call you?”

“Of course silly why wouldn’t he?” Placing the bags on what could pass for a pile of rubble instead of an island countertop. Turning to face him cataloging each feature, the stone set of his jaw, shoulders tight with tension, eyes those beautiful normally vibrate whiskey flecked greens mute with anguish he tries to hide.

Shrugging, shoulders dropping forward with no will to keep them up, “He shouldn’t have your needed else where Y/N.”

“Bullshit Winchester,” moving with purpose to stand in his personal space. “Bobby was just as much a father to me as to you. There’s no other place I’d rather be than here, for a different reason yes but I’m not leaving so suck it up buttercup.”

Catching the flash of anger tinging the deep greens whether directed at you or himself you’re not sure. “We already salted and burned his body, there’s no reason for you to stay.” Turning away from your softening eyes knowing your going to try and reason with him. Make him see he’s not responsible for what happened.

“I know,” two simple words make him pause and turn back. “I didn’t come to say goodbye to Bobby, I came for you.” Taking one step closer arms wrapping around his slumped shoulders bringing him into the shelter of your embrace. Steady hands running the length of his stiff back, imparting your warm, trying to give comfort knowing he’s unaccepting of such sympathies.

Brows furrowing, frown tipping his lips downward, fists clinching at his sides, Dean tries to keep himself from giving into the solace he so easily could find in your embrace. Warmth sinking into his skin through the layers of clothing he wears, tingling his skin, quickening his pulse.“Why?”

“You need me, your not listening to Sam or Castiel talking about going off to track Roman down yourself,” spitting the Leviathan’s name out like chewed to long gum. Head resting against his strong chest feeling the slightly erratic beat of his heart against your ear.

Back stiffening, “I don’t need you to tell me what to do Y/N I can make that decision on my own.” Low growl rattling through his chest as he pulls from your arms and steps from the warmth evaporating from his body. “You should leave.”

“And get yourself killed?” Hands slamming to your wide hips glaring daggers at your best friend. “What happened wasn’t your fault Dean. Any one of us could’ve taken that bullet, Bobby knew the risks of the mission, accepted them and died…” swallowing the tears threatening to slip from your eyes. “A hero,” ignoring his last words, reaching out to try and take his hand only to have him pull away like you’ve burned him.

“Don’t, don’t try to reason this with me I know better,” turning his back to head for the wall covered in papers trying to figure out just what Dick Roman’s up too.

Shaking your head knowing he’s hurting but not wanting to voice those feelings, to make him appear weak. With a sigh leaving your frowning lips you move silently beside him looking over the wall of weird trying to piece together how everything connects. Brushing your hand against his, pinkie trailing to catch what you think is his forefinger. Wrapping the little finger tightly around his you lean over, “I’m right here when you’re ready Dean, I’m not leaving nor letting go.”

“You should,” not bothering to turn and face you. Memories of Lisa and Ben filter through his thoughts along with Bobby, his father and what he can remember of his mother. “I’m poison and get everyone around me killed.” He doesn’t want to add you to the growing list. Rather wanting you to leave and find a different path for your life.

Tugging on his finger to wrap the middle and forefinger with your ring and pinkie fingers, “Then Sam and I are the antidote to your poison.” Giving a soft sad smile to his side profile, wrapping him up into your arms. Resting your head on his shoulder, voice a gentle whisper of breath upon his cheek and neck,“Those reasons keep tallying up Winchester we’ll hit a million before long.”

Reminding you both of a long ago discussion between the two of you in Bobby’s junk yard while still teenagers. Before angels and demons, vampires thought long dead and ancient Leviathan brought back from the pit of purgatory. When you made the packed to never fall for each other and always remain best friends. To never let go no matter how dire the situation, you’d have each other’s back.

Evaporating memories of long ago, you speak softly still resting your head on his shoulder. “You work on this mosaic of papers you have plastered over the walls. I have a pie to bake,” not giving it much thought you quickly press a kiss to his stubbled cheek then turn to head back towards the passable kitchen area.

Tingles dance over his skin for longer than he wishes, wanting to suppress those feelings bubbling up to try and consume him. Thinking he could bury them under the mounting pain and self hated. Yet, the warmth of your arms, soft press of your lips, your words register and sink into his brain Dean turns to watch you work unable stop a few of those feelings from dancing around his heart. Single thought shocking him in its stark contradiction to his current state of mind, Dean Winchester self proclaimed ladies man has fallen in love with his best friend. A sucker punch to the gut making him gasp and reel that silent declaration in. Stuffing it under the right full emotions of anger and pain. Letting them tap dance through his veins instead, something much safer for the both of them. Something he could understand and deal with.

I bow down to pray

I try to make the worst seem better

Lord, show me the way

To cut through all his worn out leather

I've got a hundred million reasons to walk away

But, baby, I just need one good one to stay

Head stuck in a cycle, I look off and I stare

It's like that I've stopped breathing, but completely aware

'Cause you're giving me a million reasons

Give me a million reasons

Giving me a million reasons

About a million reasons

Present

“He’s not my boyfriend yet Dean,” eyes rolling as you turn to melt the butter in a small sauce pan. Though there is a part of you wishing he could one day fill the role unless a single good reason can change your mind comes your way.

“But you want him too?” Words muttered through presses together teeth. Hating the fact he’s letting something so trivial effect him in such a way. You’ve had other boyfriends, one night stands he’s had to sit through yet this one feels different. As if he could truly loose you this time and those thoughts scare the shit outta him the most. Because yes you’re his best friend for longer than he can remember but above that you’re the woman who gets him, argues with him, sets his ass straight when he’s being stupid and above all or so he hopes, loves him warts and all.

Hands pause at his question looking into the melting golden liquid bubbling silently remembering to flick the tiny knob and turn the heat off. While your head screams to say yes but it’s a little small voice beating quickly beneath your ribcage making you pause. Clearing your throat to gather what thoughts you could from their scattered places. You’ve always spoke with honesty to Dean, unless circumstances dictated other wise, and you weren’t about to change now. Through you wouldn’t turn to face him when you did wanting to keep from seeing his eyes. Finding the reason for his questions in those green depths you’ve fallen for though never spoken the feelings. “Yes, he could…” swallowing to coat your dry throat to spit out the words rotting your stomach. “I could have a chance at happiness with Will, Dean. Why do you even ask?”

“I don’t want to loose you,” ‘Because I love you,’ on the tip of his tongue to tell you, give voice and life to his true feelings. Wanting you to stay and forget about those million other reasons he’s let slip between the cracks in your relationship.

Frozen in place, hands gripping the countertop beside the stove. “You wouldn’t loose me Dean I’d still go on hunts with you, I’d stick around,” lies tasting bitter on your tongue, heart beating triple time wondering if he’ll pick up on the dishonesty your speaking. Always feeling he’d never see you as anything other than his best friend. Never the type of woman to draw his attention, too soft and plush in places most men wouldn’t want and you didn’t pine for a man who’s given you a million reasons to walk away. So you shoved those feelings, the love you held back trying to make it work with other men. To find the one who’d surpass Dean destroying your feelings for the green eyed hunter, giving you the one reason to stay and belong. So why now did he have to put doubts in your mind? Why ask these questions when in years past he’d brush other men away as nothing more than a passing fancy?

Silently Dean stands slowly making his way towards you, taking in the ridged stance of your plush form. Hands itch to wrap around your thick waist and haul you against his chest. Pausing right beside you, brushing his fingers against yours too hook what he thinks is your forefinger with his pinkie. “You and I both know things wouldn’t stay the same between us sweetheart. He’d find a way to take you away from me,” praying you won’t pull away Dean turns to stare at your profile. Taking in the beauty he’s catalogued thousands of times, the curve of your lips when you smile, slope of your nose, eyes bright with laughter or spiting fire when angry usually at him. Softness of your cheeks under his palms the times he’s actually got to cup and caress the skin.

“We’ll remain best friends Dean that’ll never change,” gathering the courage to turn and look into his eyes. Catching the sadness coating those beloved greens making your heart ache. Tongue slipping out to tug back your bottom lip between your teeth indented them to keep from asking the question your heart demands.

Of its own accord Dean’s free hand comes up to brush over your cheek, cupping the soft skin, fingers spread from apple to jaw wanting so badly to draw you in and kiss those tempting lips. “I want you happy Y/N and if it’s possible out of this life, been wanting that for you since Bobby,” sliding his hand to your chin to pinch the end with his thumb and forefinger tipping your face up to press a lingering kiss to your forehead. “I’ll miss you sweetheart.”

Eyes lock with stormy greens after he pulls back, soft gasp parting your lips at the simple touch, words sounding like a goodbye instead of their usual see ya later. Grappling for words to say, questions to ask, trying to figure out what’s going on, and why now. But he’s gone before your brain can catch up with your mouth, and your turning to rush after, seeing his back disappear around the corner.

Feet finally responding to command as you quickly follow stopping at the doorway, “Give me one good reason.” Praying he’ll listen and stop, hoping it’s not too late. “Stop giving me all these reasons to leave.”

Back ridged but his mind a flurry of thoughts and answers, more questions than he could shake a stick at. Only one reason comes to mind, “Good reason to what?”

Traveling the short distance to take his hand intertwining your fingers with his, needing him to turn around and look at you. Needing the connection while stating, “Give me a good reason to stay Dean to not go tomorrow night.”

“I can’t,” partly wanting to flinch from your touch, to tug his hand free, and partly wanting to sink into your familiar embrace. Soak in the peace he always finds in your arms, to bath in your warmth and possibly bask in your love. But Dean wouldn’t be selfish he’d let you go even if it meant killing his own heart and soul.

The urge to punch him grows strong but your refrain from using violence, “Why not? Too scared? Or you just don’t care?”

The warmth of your hand disappears from searing into his palm, tingling those long nimble fingers, his eyes close knowing you’re walking away because of that millionth reason. Till the first brush of soft fingers tender in there touch upon his cheek. He gives in to the urge and rubs his slightly stubbled cheek into your palm. “If that’s you Sam, I’m gonna kick your ass dude,” ignoring your questions in favor of basking in your touch instead. Hearing the soft giggle from your lips brings a smile to his own. Eyes finally opening too stare into yours, almost doing a doubt take at what he sees in those beloved depths. “I don’t deserve you Y/N.”

“Stop giving me a million reasons Dean and give me the one that’ll make me stay,” imploring him with your touch, fingers tracing over his cheeks and jaw. Tracing his plush bottom lip with the pad of your thumb, “I just need one good reason.”

He’d find the situation funny if it’s anyone else standing in front asking the same question. Even Sam would get a chuckle from his lips, but you, his breath freezes, heart thumping wildly in equal measures of terror and excitement. The very thoughts running unrestrained in his mind scare the shit out of him, but only one truly feels right. Snaking an arm around your thick waist pulling you against his strong chest, fitting like missing puzzle pieces. His free hand coming up to cup your cheek, “I love you.”

Tears slip from their ducts barely held back till those three simple words spill from his mouth jump starting your heart and sending your emotions swirling. Warm palms cradle your wet cheeks, gun callused thumbs brush hot tears away, you spy the worry and fear your non response sparks. “Do you mean it?” Wanting clarification before handing your heart over to the very man who’s held it for so long.

Knowing what your asking Dean stops waiting and lowers his mouth to yours. That first touch of lips electricity shoots through you veins. Body responding quicker with arms going around his neck to pull him firmly against you not a wisp of space between your bodies. Fingers tangling in the short hairs at the back of his head while you slot your lips against his. Demanding and deep, a tangled dance of tongues. Clashing of teeth, a melding mouths and finding the right angles to draw those delicious moans from each of you. Till air becomes necessary and you break apart panting, “That answer your question sweetheart?”

“No,” smirking when his eyes narrow, “I wanna hear it again.”

No hesitation in speaking those three words, “I love you.” Groaning when your lips smash back to his. Stealing breath from his lungs and a moan from his chest, Dean walks you backward till your pressed against the cool tile wall. Lower pelvis holding your soft body in place so his hands can dance over your cotton covered plush form. Palm’s flat against your thick waist, slowly dragging them around and down to cup your generous ass. Squeezing firmly and making you gasp.

Using the opening as a way to work his tongue back into your mouth, delving in for another taste of your sweetness. Low groan existing when rearranging his mouth to fit differently and snag a gulp of air. Stubble abrading your chin in the most spectacular of ways. Pooling heat low in your belly and making your mind wander in other more salacious directions. Brought back from teetering on the deliciously desirable edge by a sharp bite, his teeth nabbing your bottom lip to tug, letting go with a wet pop. Breath fanning out over your heated cheeks. Eyes once closed now open and locked with yours a pleading undertone to the desire darkened greens.

Knowing what he wants to hear and unable to wait along, “I love you too Dean.” Heart bursting with unrestrained joy flooding your system and making you love drunk.

“Thank fucking God,” groaning, resting your foreheads together still trying to reign in the wild thumping of his heart. Your admission only serves to make the largest muscle spasm quicker. All his pent up emotions, desires and needs flowing to the surface, biting the inside of his cheek to keep from rushing into something too fast. Remembering it’s still fresh and new between the two of you a different path to the relationship already established in friendship.

Giggling softly, you cup both his cheeks, thumbs brushing along his skin, three days worth of stubble abrading your palms. “So,” teasing smirk pulling at your lips, “I better call Will huh?”

“For?” Trying to keep the bitter growl from escaping and giving away his feelings on the sore subject. Tugging your soft body back in place from your wiggles to side free, not ready to let you go just yet.

Sliding one hand down his chest to rest where you know his anti-possession tattoo resides. Tracing the edges with the tip of your finger over the black t-shirt he’s wearing, locking eyes with his, “Seems I’m a taken woman. Wouldn’t want to lead the poor guy on now would I?” Watching how those whiskey flecked greens darken, pushing his lower body deeper into your plush form. Barely heard as you try not to give away the whimper of need his body produces in your own, with his pressed so tightly. Cool concrete keeping you body temp from over heating for the moment.

“No,” clearing his throat leaning in to draw his nose over your jawline. Touring towards your ear, catching the lobe between his front teeth to tug. Low desire filled growl leaving his lips, followed by, “Tomorrow is another day sweetheart and right now you’ve got better things to do.”

Heading tipping over granting access to the parts of your neck he wants, trying to keep the shiver from rolling over your body. Heat flooding your veins sparking a need you’ve never felt with any of the other men you’d previously had relations with. “What,” licking your parched lips, “what better things Dean?” Praying it’s the same idea rolling around your head for the longest time.

Pausing in his mapping of your neck and shoulder with his lips, Dean raises his head to spear you with a heated look. “Me for starters sweetheart, that is of course…” uneasiness has him trailing off the first time in his life. The bitter taste of uncertainty coating his thoughts for a fraction of a second before your lips land back on his.

Teasingly soft presses, little ghost touches of your tongue, playfully dotting his cheeks, chin and forehead with your lips before brushing close to his ear. “Hey Dean,” smiling against his skin, tenderly pressing your lips just south of his ear. Nibbling the found patch of sensitive skin behind committing the spot to memory for later. Breath puffing out quicker feeling him shiver, knowing what the next words would invoke in Dean and his love for the movie. “You big stud. Take me to bed or lose me forever,” sultry tone added to the cadence.

His eyes close for a moment, heart swelling as you recite the words to one of his favorite movies. Marveling at the fact you’ve remembered the lines perfectly and Dean falls deeper in love with you if that’s possible.

The gentle caresses of your lips against his skin setting fire to his nerve endings, room in his jeans becoming a hot commodity as his shaft thickens and throbs. Finding the distraction almost too much while trying to recall the next line. Teasing giggles reach his ears that he replies to with a deep chuckle. Words coming back to him, “Show me the way home, honey.”

Reaching down to tug one hand from your ass, chuckling with a shake of your head when it doesn’t budge but squeezes the generous globe. Notching himself tighter into your body, smirk appearing as your eyes widen, gasp issuing from parted lips. Bitting the inside of your cheek to keep from giggling before the words can escape. “Is that a pickle in your pocket or you just happy to see me?”

“Oh sweetheart it’s a great big dill I can show ya,” flashing a smirk, both of you trying hard not to laugh.

“Preferably,” deep voice tinged with slight offense but liberally coated in amusement. “In your own room so the both of you aren’t bare ass naked in the hallway bumping like bunnies,” having rounded the corner towards the kitchen and catching the intimate embrace. “A vision I don’t want branded into my skull thank you very much,” Sam paused arms crossed in annoyance. Golden dotted green eyes dancing with mirth, catching the playfully scandalous expression cross your features. Glancing towards Dean who buries his face in your neck getting a deep chuckle from his brother.

Try as you might to keep from busting out laughing they just rolled out of your mouth as your eyes lock with Sam’s. Acting stoic but the smile tugging at his lips and the teasing flash through his eyes speak a different story. Only thing holding you up is Dean’s body still pressed heavily against your. The man in question glancing up first to look at you then over his shoulder towards Sam. “Don’t even start Sammy,” grumbling good-naturedly giving him a middle finger salute and the opening you need to slip from between his hard body and the wall. Teasing growl rumbling through his chest at the loss of your warmth. Dean reaches out to snag your arm but you manage to dance out of his reach, giggles echoing off the walls trailing behind your disappearing form.

“Wouldn’t dream of it Dean but Cas owes me fifty bucks,” patent Sam Winchester smirk sliding over his lips. Brow raised at his scoff, “Can’t believe I had a betting pot going?”

Watching you run off happy grin tipping his mouth upward, he looks back at Sam grin still in place. “Just can’t believe it’s with Cas. Rowena maybe, Jody, Claire, Alex and Donna fuck yes but Cas,” incredulous look stealing over his features for a few moments.

“Who say’s the bet’s not bigger than you think,” broad shoulders shrugging same smirk in place, Sam enters the kitchen on that note leaving Dean to stare wide eyed after his baby brother. “Matter of time, always just a matter of time,” laughter tinged voice exists the kitchen, unseen shake of his head at the mess left behind.

Stock still for a fraction of a second till soft giggles echo quietly down the hall, grin turning into full blown smile. Need rushing back through his veins in remembrance of your position just a few short moments ago. Low curse existing his mouth, Dean turns racing off to find which room you’re hiding in.

Nerves tingled through your body, worry interrupting thoughts/memories of short minutes ago. Hard press of his body against yours, warm moist breath fanning out over your skin sending tingles of a different kind to skitter across your veins. But now standing in Dean’s room trying to figure out where to lay or stand that would invoke images of sensuality. You look down at your bare feet toes wiggling against cold concrete. Up wards to thick jeans clad thighs, a baby blue tank top covering your torso, self consciousness went out the window decades ago. After the first serious injuries you suffered at the hands of a vengeful spirit had you damn near stripped naked in front of Dean. Confidence in face of adversity knowing he’s the only one for miles around to patch you up.

Now though is different, same confidence but wishing for sexier clothing something to entice and tease. Small snort issues from the depths of your body knowing damn well you had nothing of the sort in your possession. Flannels, tank tops, t-shirts and jeans hunter’s required staples along with the functional under garments you groan at remembering are mismatched at the present.

“Beautiful even in those rumpled clothing,” deep voice breaking through thoughts and making a squeak sound as you quickly turn to face the lazily leaning against the door jam hunter. Arms crossed over muscular chest, biceps straining the black t-shirt’s sleeves, “I meant what I said before Sammy interrupted us.”

Tugging your bottom lip back under indented top teeth turning to face him fully, “Which part?” Barely keeping the mirth from bubbling over, “That I should show you the way home or you have a big dill?” Easy going banter calming your nerves even the part about feeling ill-prepared clothing wise.

Tender infused whiskey fleck green eyes turn molten with each sweep of your body. “I love you,” words escape as eyes stay locked, Dean pushing away from the doorway. Booted foot catching the hardwood door and slamming it shut behind him. Stocking towards you as a lion would his prey, licking parched lips wanting to devour you. Hands fisting at his side though to keep from reaching out and doing just that incase it’s something your not ready for.

His breath froze upon seeing you walking around his room, something akin to relief floods his veins along with a sense of rightness. Sure you’ve come in hundreds of times to wake him from a nightmare or mornings, to barrow music and to talk. Yet, this time feels different giving your relationship changed moments ago. Catching the indecision clearly written in those beloved eyes that don’t focus on one place too long. For a moment Dean wishes he could read your thoughts but then having hunted and lived together for decades he picked up the situation and cues without having to know your thoughts.

Pleased hum breaks Dean from the wondering trail his thoughts took him on to spy the sweet smile gracing your lips. Hands positioned on your hips one cocked to the side as you stand there waiting expectedly. Restraining himself, Dean opens his palms to bring them up and cup your cheeks dragging you against him. Lips meeting in the tenderest of kisses that he keeps in place while speaking, “You want this, want me?”

Recognizing his vulnerability and what he’s asking with those simple words, arms wrap around his back fisting the shirt tightly to press the two of you together. Love saturated eyes burn into those greens you could drown in, “That’s my question Winchester stop stealing my lines.” Flattening one palm to slide up and into his hair. Pressing another kiss to his soft lips you’ve only imaged kissing till now. The reality so much better than any fantasy you ever came up with.

“Calling me a thief now sweetheart?” Using jokes to cover the fact he’s searching for the right words. Flustered and frustration slither through his veins in a combination Dean’s not accustom, words stammering of unintelligible nature tumble from his mouth. The feel of your blunt nails sending pleasurable shivers down his spine.

Nodding, craning your neck back a few inches but keeping your eyes locked, “You stole my lines and my heart Dean so yes that would make you a thief.” Hand sliding over his back now and settling into the back pocket of his jeans, “I also meant what I said back there.” Catching the cocked brow you elaborate, “Take me to bed Dean I’m tired of waiting, I want to know how it feels to have you inside me.”

Soft groan issues from parted lips. Wanting to act on your words so damn badly his body vibrates with barely contained desire. Forehead coming to rest against yours, strong hands sliding too loosely wrap around and caress your neck. “You know I’m not great at relationships. I could seriously fuck things up.”

“I know but then so could I,” any doubts or insecurities evaporating into the ether with every look.

Callused fingers brush over your bare shoulders sending sensual shivers cascading down your body. Rubbing your thighs together for added friction with the heated look Dean’s fixing you with. Boosting your confidence to step back his hands drop to the side as you own pinch at the hem of your tank top. Slowly pulling it from your body, letting it drop with a barely heard whisper.

“Fucking hell sweetheart,” resolve snapping, reaching for your hips and tugging you back against him harder than intended. Lips sealing quickly to swallow the gasp existed parted lips Dean takes advantage of and slips his tongue inside the warm cavern of your mouth.

There’s nothing gentle about this kiss, it’s all teeth and tongues, fighting desperately for dominance. Pulling groans from the depths of Dean’s soul as he pulls whimpers and moans from your own. Till air becomes needed though it doesn’t stop your mouth from trailing a hot path across his stubbled jaw. Nibbling towards that little patch behind his ear to flick the tip of your tongue against. Smirking at the shutter rolling through his body, fingers dancing a rhythm over his shirt covered torso. Hem reached you tug twice to which he nods reaching behind him grasping and pulling the garment off to join yours.

Hands, palms flat immediately going to ghost over his rippling tummy. Muscle covered soften causing all moisture to pool south, clit throbbing almost painfully. Sure you’ve seen him bare chested before this time it’s different. For pleasure instead of patching him up. Drawing desired groans rather than pain filled. “I know Sam would abject but I so wouldn’t mind seeing you walk around shirtless.”

Full belly chuckle leaves Dean’s lips, “Sweetheart don’t talk about other men right now especially not my brother.” Possessive hands landing on your naked plush waist, fingers spanning the distance and gripping the flesh in his palm. Dreams having nothing on the real woman in his palms.

“Just stating facts sir nothing more,” trailing your fingers over the slightly hair roughen skin. Brushing pebbled nipples from the cool air and your proximity. Reserving a gasp when you lean forward to lap with the tip of our tongue and nip at the peaked point. Glancing to lock eyes as you switch and give the same attention to its twin giving the same attention getting a hiss from your actions. Dragging you lips upward to trace his tattoo with kisses.

Molten green eyes drinking in the sight of your lips on his skin, shooting desire straight to his cock. Throbbing need demanding attention no matter how good your soft lips feel against his body. “Baby girl,” groaning at the nip you place, eyes close to compose himself. Flying open as air cool brushes his skin inside of the shared heat of both your bodies. Mesmerized by the way you reach back to unclasp your bra, pushing your lushes breasts out teasing his vision, salivating for a taste of your skin.

He steps forward crowding into your space backing you into the bed till the back of your calves hit the edge. Wrapping his arms around your plush form to brush hands away and do the task himself. Finger tips skimming the edges of both straps till reaching the top at your shoulders and drawing them down. Keeping his eyes locked with yours while pulling the garment from your pliant body tossing it behind him. Eyes flicking down on a groan, licking his dry lips at the beauty displayed for his ravenous gaze.

“Lay down for me sweetheart,” meeting your lust blown orbs with his own. “I wanna see you in my bed,” biting off a whimper when you drop onto the edge. Bountiful breasts bouncing teasingly as he watches you slide backwards towards the head board. Hands going to the button of your jeans, low growl pausing your nimble fingers. “That’s for me to do baby girl, just,” swallowing harshly as he looks you over. Partially naked spread out over his bed picture perfect memory for those times when the darkness tries to steal this happiness. “Give me a moment to drink you in.” Unable to decide where to look first, “So fucking gorgeous.” Toeing off his boots, hands going to his own jeans your shaking head pausing the movements.

“I get the same pleasure,” licking your lips slowly while raising up on your elbows. Beckoning him with two crooked fingers, hand resting with the palms up beside your plush body, “Get up here before I get impatience and take matters into my own hands.”

Declaration making him pause a moment low growl rumbling from deep with in his chest. As desire blown green meet yours, smirk gracing his handsome features. One knee comes to rest on the mattress Dean leans forward keeping eyes locked while pressing a kiss to your ankle. Grinning, feeling the quiver that runs through your body. “You wouldn’t dare sweetheart,” adding his other knee to spread your legs and slowly fit his body between.

“Shall we make a bet Winchester?” Using your free foot to brushing the nearest thigh with the flat. Sliding towards the very noticeable bulge busting the seams of his jeans, toes teasing the thick ridge before pressing the flat of your foot against him. Rubbing the length slowly pleased when a growl echos the room.

Grabbing that foot tickling the pad enjoying the way you squirm and giggle. Taking the opportunity to move fully between your legs. “About that bet hum,” fingertips drawing an invisible path of fire down the middle your body. Bracing then both arms on either side of your shoulders hovering over you, warm breath fanning out over your cheek he nuzzles with stubbled chin. Pulling a whimper from your gasping lips.

Of there own accord, your hands slide up the strength of his arms and biceps to clasping fingers together around the back of his neck. Left leg draped over his waist to pull him against your pelvis, breathless moan parting your lips at the contact of his hard length pressing into your dripping center. “I don’t want slow or gentle Dean,” head tipping back to give access to his questing lips that find your wildly thumping pulse, sucking a mark into the soft skin. “We have all night for that I just…” words caught upon seeing whiskey flecked green eyes dilated almost pitch with desire. Cheshire Cat grin tugging kiss swollen lips upward.

“Just what sweetheart?” Humming, brushing your lips together before returning to his last spot. One hand dragging over your soft body cupping the generous globe massaging gently feeling the nipple peak against his palm. Teasingly circling the stiff nub with the tip of his index finger before giving a sharp pinch and making you gasp out. Back arching at the pleasurable pain skittering across your veins.

Grasping what’s left of your mind to try and form coherent words, body responding instead pressing your chest into his large hand. Nails score down his back, one completing the journey to give his ass a tight squeeze. As the other detours to between your intimately pressed body. Happy to find enough space to slot your palm against his erection, cupping his throbbing length and giving short little strokes. Smile blooming with a breathless groan against your collarbone where Dean’s forehead currently rests. Nimble fingers pop the small metal disk, pulling the zipper tab down to slip the hand inside. Warmth enveloping palm feeling him twitch has you slowly licking your lips at the mire thought of getting to taste him.

“You’re killing me Y/N,” rutting his hips into your hand, mouth coming back to claim yours in a punishingly bruising kill. Tangling your tongues together, nipping a little harder on your bottom lip than meaning to but the accompanying moan flows straight to his cock. Making him twitch against your palm that has slowed with the distraction of the kiss.

Breaking for air, panting while trying to form and speak the right words, “We’re both a little over dressed Dean.” Pulling your hand from the tight confines of his jeans, using the one at his ass to help pull them and his boxers down only stopping when you couldn’t reach anything passed his knees. Sigh of relief exists his parted lips making you giggle and press a kiss to his chin. “Feel better?” Bottom lip trapped and nibbled on as your fingers brush his length. Finding your fingers barely wrap around the girth while to stroke, palm sliding over precum leaking head. Hips thrust forward at the sensations tingling down his back gathering low in his belly.

“Now who’s over dressed?” Mumbling the words against your skin. Dean regretfully brushes your hand aside grinning at the annoyed huff that leaves your lips. “Ah sweetheart put that sexy pout away you’ll get a chance to taste me soon enough. Cause if you keep using that soft hand on my cock I’ll cum faster than I want.”

His words presenting so many thoughts to run through your mind only cut off when wet warm heat engulfs your right nipple. Tongue flicking quickly over taut peak, blunt teeth nipping then soothing over with the tip of his tongue. Switching to the twin leaving both sloppy wet and tight, gleaming in the low light of his room. Worshipping at the temple of your body with kisses pressed into your tummy, running scared callused hands over your skin in silent reverence. Eyes taking in very inch Dean sits back on his knees between your parted legs. Tracing his knuckles along the seam of your jeans covered cunt, making you jolt against him.

Pausing to strip your jeans and panties from your body, tossing them and kicking his own off to land somewhere on the floor. Raising up on elbows to finally get a chance to look at him in all his naked glory. Tracing each divot of scars over a broad chest, passing over the middle to admire thick bowed legs spread wide. Lips licked slowly upon landing on his ridge cock, slightly curved and resting against his lower belly. Palm itching for a touch, mouth watering for that taste. “You’re beautiful Dean,” words whispered so low your unsure if he’s really heard them.

Heat blooms over his cheeks at your admission, looking your fill of his adonis body. Dean returns the admiration. Tracing the features of your beloved face, staring a little too long at your heaving breasts, soft tummy he wants to nibble on at some point. Thick thighs he can’t wait to have wrapped around his waist once he’s buried deep inside your wet heat. The very though has his eyes dropping between your parted legs, glistening folds beckoning him forward. Caught in that tempting trance, Dean slides back between your legs. Brushing his lips just above your mound and receiving a whimper from you. Locking eyes, “I think you got that backwards sweetheart, it’s you who’s beautiful.” Dipping to run the thick flat of his tongue through your folds, humming at the tangy sweetness exploding over his taste buds.

Hips cantering against his mouth, your own letting a deep moan free as one hand slides down to card through his short brown locks. Tugging the strands getting a groan to vibrate against your cunt while his talented tongue dances through your soaked folds. Torturing your clit with ghosted touches, one arm wraps around our thigh spreading you open. As the other slips a finger inside your wet channel, finding you squeezing and tight, garnering a deep groan of arousal from the man between your lips.

“Dean,” voice wrecked and he’s barely touched you. When he doesn’t answer or budge from his sensual assault on your cunt. Lips having formed a perfect O around your clit, tongue flicking kitten licks to the tiny nerve filled nub. Pleased with he whimpers and whines that filter through his desire filled mind.

Resulting in you tugging on his hair harder, back arching as a small shock rocks through your body, tingling your belly when he bites carefully on your clit. “Dean please,” eyes rolling back into your head at the added second finger. Crooked and pressing into the little spongy spot you’ve never had anyone touch. Ripping a half scream from the hidden depths of your soul.

Smug smirk tugging over slick wet lips, stubbled chin coming to rest just above your mound. Watching as you heave a breath, breasts catching his eyes for a moment till you tug again. Fingers anything but still as they thrust and scissor you open, working you carefully to fit his slightly above average length not wanting to hurt you. “Yes sweetheart?” Licking his lips from your slick.

Free hand coming up to cover your heated face, “Don’t sound so smug,” gasping the last word when his thumb brushes over your clit making you jump and wither. Heat spreading from that special spot in your belly, where the tight coil starts to wind higher. Thick thighs tremble with each sensation Dean draws out of you. “Need you, please, please.”

Caressing your quivering walls with the gun callused pads of his fingers, massaging your clit as you plead. Breath chocked out on another moan, chest heavy, heat coating your skin as you wither under him. “Ah but I can’t help myself sweetheart you don’t know what seeing you like this does to me.”

Gathering what little strength you have in your limbs to reach down and cup his cheeks, thumbs brushing over the skin under his eyes. “Why don’t you get up here and show me Dean?” Voice wreaked yet a tender undertone rides through the cadence.

Pressing a single kiss to the pulsing little clit, giving once last flick making your squirm and Dean to chuckle. Slowly pulling his fingers out, stroking twice more your hips chasing the indescribable ecstasy winding its way through your veins. Only to have the tingles dance slower, the coil start to unwind as frustrated huff leaving your gasping lips.

Taking advantage to plunder your mouth, greedy for a sample of the wet cavern and a tongue tango that draws out a sharp moan of need. Especially tasting your tangy sweetness from his lips, sucking the bottom between your teeth to nibble. While reaching blindly over to the nightstand, damn near yanking the whole draw on the ground in his haste. “Give me a sec woman,” huffing out he rolls slightly off you. The noise drawing a giggle out causing him too stiffen, glancing back with a playful glare to refocus on finding his prize.

Using the opportunity to nose the thick column of his neck, taking in the scent of whiskey, leather and motor oil, peppered now with sex and sweat. Addicting and unable to help yourself from sink your teeth into his skin gently but hard enough to leave a small soon to purple mark. Soothing over with the flat of your tongue catching sight of the pause your actions caused. The aroused moan that leaves his lips, head resting on the bed to try and gather himself from your onslaught.

“Something wrong Dean?” Nipping just below his jaw, tracing your fingers along his side. Index finger swirling through the spares, crisp hairs leading a path to what you’ve craved to have inside you for a long time. Nimble fingers surround the base forming a perfect circle that can’t close but tightens. Stroking his length teasingly slow. In return receiving a warning growl — the sound devastating your senses making you throb — from the man currently fishing for a condom and growing frustrated when his fingers come up empty. “Shall I stop my love? Am I distracting you?” Whispered words breathed into his ear, lips kissing the shell. Knowing damn well just how tormenting you are to his senes and body. If his twitching cock your hand currently wrapping around stroking and the shallow breaths are any indication.

“Ha,” triumphant shout of accomplishment, Dean rolls back over you pressing bodies together and into the mattress. “Now where were we?” Flashing that teasing smirk with a hard rutting of his hips against your dripping core and tight fisted hand.

“What to you so long stud?” Biting back the giggles when he fixes you with a scowl.

Breath hissing out through clinched teeth when taking your hand off his cock, bringing those wickedly wonderful fingers to his lips and sucking on each one with a short nibble. Placing the open condom pack in your palm, “Do the honors sweetheart.”

Curling your fingers around the little foil packet, pressing your other hand into the back of his neck drawing Dean in for a tender kiss. Slow meld of your lips, light sips of your warm mouths. Tenderly tugging his bottom lip, to slide your tongue over the bruised skin and into his mouth. Licking and touring the heated cavern, seeking out ways to make his moan and grunt. A moment of forgetfulness while mapping his tonsils and sucking on his tongue, till you break for air. Chasing his mouth for more kisses only to receive a chuckle instead.

Eyes open to spear him with a heated look, foil packet crinkling in your hand a remind of your mission. Slipping fingers from his soft hair, to trace over his body, joining its partner between the two of your heaving bodies. Unlocking your eyes to glance down, hand wrapping back around his thick shaft to stroke twice getting a needy moan from the man above you. Before teasingly rolling the condom on paying special attention to the thick pulsing vein on the underside, mouth watering at the thoughts of getting to taste it later.

Dean grasps one of your hips to bring the leg around his waist, opening you up and feeling your soft skin under his palm. Sliding between your bodies to entwine his fingers with your, pumping his cock together. Different sounds, a hiss from Dean and a moan from you exists on shuttering breaths. Eyes reattach both blown with desire and coated in need, you notch the head of his cock at your entrance pressing the heel of your foot into the small of his back to urge him forward.

Teeth clamping to draw blood from your bottom lip but also to keep from screaming out in pleasure as he slowly sinks inside your quivering depths. Reaching up with his other hand to free your bruised lip, brushing the pad of his thumb over the glistening skin. “I wanna hear you sweetheart don’t hold back.”

“What about Sam?” Breath hitching, mouth hanging open on a moan that’s trapped on the edge of a scream when he bottoms out against you. Bodies flush, joined hands now resting above your head where Dean’s placed them.

Leaning in to press open mouth kisses to your lips and neck letting you adjust to his size, the exquisite stretch thumps through your veins the slight sting only heightening the pleasure. “Never mention his name while we’re in bed sweetheart,” snagging the lobe of your ear with his teeth. Pleased when you nod speechless, though not enough, “Words baby girl I wanna hear that prefect voice of yours.”

Swallowing trying to form words to answer, scoring your nails down his back an impatience mewling whimper leaves instead. Using the leg not wrapped around Dean’s waist as leverage to plant and push your hips up against him. Squeezing your walls tightly around his shaft drawing out a grunt from his lips. “Dean…” going to say more but he chooses that moment to pull out till just the crown rested inside your pulsing channel. “Just you…” hips snapping forward to fill you quickly stealing those words into a loud scream of ecstasy.

Starting a hard punishing rhythm, repeatedly waiting till your fixing to speak and either pulling out or trusting home. Always taking away what your going to say. Knowing your trapped between frustration and pleasure, Dean captures your mouth in another deep kiss. While his hips snap against yours, wrapping the other leg around his waist to angle you differently. Pressing your intertwined hands into the pillow beside your head and breaking the bruising kiss to gulp a lung full of air into both your burning lungs.

Feeling your walls start to quiver around his hammering cock, knowing by the pinched look on your countenance, the quivering of your thick thighs clutching at his trim waist. Heels pressing into the small of his back drawing him forward with quickened strokes that he’s shortened from the long deep thrusts. Notching your legs higher on his waist to press forward, curling his pelvis into your core, determined to make you cum first. Wanting to feel you soak his cock, see the looks of pleasure dance across your features.

Sliding his fingers through your soaked folds to find your pearl pulsing, pressing the pad of his thumb circling to make a gasp fly from your lips. Back arching, tingles no longer gentle but tap dancing a rhythm through your veins. Dean’s name a chant from your dry, parched lips, panting to try and fill your starving lungs. Body vibrating on a higher frequency only Dean’s turned in on as with every snap of his hips, brush of his thumb sends your spiraling deeper into euphoria.

Reaching up to wrap your hand around his neck to bring him back down for another kiss. This one sloppy as the thrusts of Dean’s hips, brief touches of lips, wet slide of your tongues across the other. Eyes sliding closed only to snap back open with a pinch to your nipple soothed over my his teasing fingers.

“Keep those beautiful eyes open for me sweetheart and cum for me I know your close. You just gotta let go for me,” resting your foreheads together, gritting his teeth to starve off his own orgasm. The wet clinch almost too much for Dean to handle. Always wondering but never imagining how good this truly would feel.

“Dean,” breathing out his name, a series of moans and whimpers following. Trying to capture his mouth for another kiss that’s broken off when your orgasm slams into you soaking Dean’s cock in your slick. Eyes rolling back his name a screamed prayer from your lips.

Body convulsing in pleasurable all consuming fire, little sparks of light pin prick behind your tightly closed eyes. Moisture breath fans out over your neck where Dean buries his face, lips pressing into your skin. Chasing that high while working you through your orgasm the wet clinch of your walls prove too much to starve off any long. Giving in with a groan of your name rubbed into your skin as he fills the condom. Circling his hips a few more times to drag out the pleasurable spikes racking his frame.

Collapsing into your arms a welcome weight pressing you into the mattress as you both try to capture your breath. He brings your joined hands down starting to untwine them but the shake of your head stops the actions.

“For a few moments longer,” voice hoarse from screaming out your pleasure. Free hand coming up to card through his sweat drenched hair. Brushing the strands back from his forehead and sliding your lips over his. Brief touches, lingering into something deeper. Tender caresses of mouth’s, nibbling, and sucking softly on bruised skin. Dean starts to move getting a whimpered whine from your throat tightening your arms around him.

“Gotta clear you up sweetheart I’m not going anywhere,” reassuring you with another soft kiss while carefully pulling out of your tender depths. Mesmerized by the slick coating your tights and dripping from your convulsing walls. Brushing his fingers over the reddening swollen skin, gasp reaching his ears, eyes flying up to yours. Then flicking across your body seeing the beard burn on your neck and chest, hand prints blooming over your hips. “Did I hurt you?”

Sitting up to cup his cheeks, “No Dean you didn’t hurt me. If you had I would’ve told you.” Leaning in to kiss him tendering, “Better take care of that mess it’ll get awful sticky otherwise,” giving him a bright smile. Watching while he gingerly takes the spent condom off, tying it closed before tossing it into the waste bin by the night stand.

Raising to walk on shaky bowed legs to grab up the wash cloth from the sink. Wetting with warm water he turns back stunned to find you watching him with a grin on your lips. “Like what you see?”

“Hmm no,” seeing the frown you go to finish. “Love Dean, I see the man I love,” frown switching to teasing smirk as he nears the bed.

Nudging you to lay back and spread your legs, tenderly wiping you clean. Dragging the warm cloth over your folds and inner thighs. Tossing it behind him to crawl into bed gathering your pliant plush body against his hard chest. Back pressed into his front, arms wrapped tightly around your thick waist. Placing a kiss to your shoulder, “I love to you Y/N, get some rest I’m far from through with you.”

Soft giggles vibrate into his chest, “Careful you’re getting old baby you sure you’ll have the stamina?” Toying with the fingers tapping against your tummy sending shivers cross your body.

Low growl accompanies the drag of his teeth over your sensitive skin, drawing a moan from your lips. Pressing his hips into your generous ass, “Give me an hour sweetheart and I’ll show you just how much stamina your man has.”

[ajbwasntwriting]

Daughter!Reader X Negan, Reader x Daryl: Chapter 13. Flames

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(we using the same gif cause I couldn’t get the bridge gif to work sorry no sorry)

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Soon the camp was left near barren. The saviours had made up more than half the work force and as far as it seemed you were the only one left. You spotted Daryl sitting in front of a white tent eating an apple. You bee-lined past Eugene and Rick to him, sitting on the chair just opposite from him.

“Hey” Daryl greeted you warmly. You just smiled at him then went back to staring in the middle ground, leaned down in the chair and your arms crossed. You sat there in peeved silence for a moment, just not wanting to be alone right now. “Heard the yelling match you had-”

“Don’t” You said, closing your eyes and shaking your head in annoyance. “I feel stupid enough as is.”

A hand landed on your knee and Daryl’s gruff voice said “You ain’t stupid, Darlin’”

That made you smile whether you liked it or not. You looked at him through the side of your eye, leaning forward and looking at you with so much love. “Darlin’, huh?” you commented on the new pet name. You uncrossed your arms and took his hand in yours, ignoring how sticky it felt from the apple he was eating. “I could get used to that.”

“Anything I can do for you? You name it, I’ll make it happen.” Daryl said.

“Just sit with me a while.” You droned, clearly exhausted. “Before you gotta up and go again.”

“‘Course” he reassured you, kissing your knuckles. You detached your hands so he could finish his apple and you were happy to sit with him. The noise of the camp was gone and there wasn’t anything you could do, but with Daryl you always felt at ease. Though something seemed off about him. A kind of anger was boiling under your skin. Maybe he was pissed the Saviours up and left too.

Jerry arrived back on horse and was talking to Rick. You didn’t bother yourself with it but Daryl’s interest seemed to be piqued. Especially when he walked by talking rapidly into a walkie talkie. You tuned into the conversation out of curiosity.

“I need you to get an urgent message to Alexandria… If Maggie Rhee shows up, delay her at the gate and alert Michonne right away. Do not... repeat… do not let her in without an escort. Over”

“What’s happening?” You asked Daryl. He didn’t look at you as he stood up. You stood up after him and walked behind

“And, Maggie, if you're listening… let's talk.” Rick tucked the walkie back into his belt.

“Hey. What’s goin’ on?” Daryl asked as he approached.

“Maggie's headed to Alexandria.” Rick explained.

“Is that bad?” You asked.

“She's about do something she might regret.” Rick explained further, grabbing the horse.

“Hop on. I'll take you.” Daryl said.

“You sure? We got enough fuel?” Rick asked, already moving to Daryl’s bike

“Yeah. We’ll get there quicker.” Daryl said, climbing onto the bike. “I’ll be back soon, Darlin’” he called to you.

“Better be in one piece” you shot back.

“I’ll make sure of it, Y/N!” Rick replied. You watched as they took off down the road, leaving you in a crumbling camp.

You wandered around the camp, finding the Alexandrians had left too and what was left of hill top and oceanside were scattered with talk of leaving. You eventually came upon Carol. She was packing up with a group you recognised as the kingdom's people. “You leaving too?” You called, grabbing her attention. You settled onto the heel of your feet and placed your hands into the back pockets of your hips, watching as she asked a nearby man to finish packing up the crate.

“This place is bust, Y/N” She said, walking towards you. “I know you tried earlier but-”

“Yeah” you hissed through your teeth. “I get it.” She looked away, seemingly embarrassed. “You're going back to the kingdom I see.”

“There’s room on the wagon if you want” Carol offered, seemingly remorseful.

“No.” You replied “I told Sanctuary I’d be back.”

Carol shook her head in disbelief then chuckled as she threw her head to the sky then back to you. “I don’t get it. You hated it there!” She expressed while you nodded along in agreement. “But you wanna go back?”

‘I was trying to cover my ass but now everyone who knows me is dead’ you thought. Though that wouldn’t fly. Your childhood made you an adept liar though. ‘No granny those aren’t vomit stains on the carpet I just spilled my porridge. Yes, I eat porridge now.’

“I was scared. And lonely. But in time it got less so.” you explained, not breaking eye-contact. “I don’t know the Saviours you knew, but the ones I know appreciate my work. And they’ve got nothing. I had nothing and Daryl came to me, gave me a shot. I wanna extend that to them.”

“We won’t help,” Carol said. “Too many people were hurt.”

“Well if you’re gonna turn away starving children and hard working people,” You retorted. “We’ll go elsewhere.”

“You’re a horrible liar,” Carol chuckled.

“Right back at ya,” you turned to leave and pack your things when Carol called you. She came up to you and offered you a revolver and a belt holster.

“You’ll need it,” she said. You took the belt and weapon.

“Thanks, Carol.” You said. She pulled you into a hug that you returned with gusto then parted so you could pack your things.

You didn’t have much, mainly your knife and the clothing on your back but Enid had forgotten some valuable supplies in the infirmary. Between that, the change of clothes you had and a couple apples you had hidden away in your tent for later, your bag was bare.

You were about to set out and start dismantling one of the tents to bring back when you heard bullets fly. You immediately got low to the floor and pulled out your gun, checking if it was loaded.

The rounds sounded too rapid to be one sided. You walked out the back of the tent and noticed the shoot out. It was a small group of saviours going after Carol’s group. You took a deep breath and ran out of the tent and behind a nearby tree, then peered out the side and took two quick shots at the group. You managed to hit one and the larger group was now caught off guard. In the time it took you to unload the barrel you downed another two and the fire fight had ended with Carol’s group victorious and a number of the Saviours running back into the woods. They disappeared as quickly as they appeared. You ran over to Carol’s group.

“Is everyone alright?” You asked.

“They got Fred!” one of the hilltoppers yelled. You looked at the armoured body and knew in an instant he was gone from the axe wound alone.

“You gotta come with us,” Carol said to you. “The shots would’ve attracted the herd.”

“Alexandria’s the safest bet with the way that herd is moving” Jerry put in.

“Alexandria it is then,” you agreed, helping load up now. The tents were abandoned. Someone from Oceanside radioed that the camp wasn’t safe but no one checked for a response. Everything was loaded up and the carriages were moved.

Off in Alexandria, in someone else’s world. Maggie entered the dark basement cell. Her face was illuminated by what little light creeped between the shutters. Negan chuckled.

“Aw, she just gave up the keys, huh?” He jested “It's a shame. She got the blade, but you...You got the fire. My money was on you.”

Maggie looked into his cell. He sat on his bed, shrouded in darkness. “So you remember me.” She spoke into the darkness”

“'Course I do.” Negan Replied “It's why I thought you were gonna win.”

“Good.” Maggie swallowed hard, emboldening her resolve. This was it, she was going to give this monster what he deserved. “Get on your knees.”

“You know, I remember you screamin' in that clearing.” Negan muled aloud, standing up and walking closer to the bars yet not completely out of the darkness “I remember how much I broke you breakin' open your husband's head like I did.”

“Glenn.” Maggie snapped “His name was Glenn.”

“So now what? You finally come for…” Negan paused for intentional dramatic effect “revenge?”

“Justice.”

“Damn.” Negan gasped “Thought you'd do this a hell of a lot sooner. It take you this long to work up your nerve?

“I was always gonna settle this,” Maggie retorted, her voice growing in volume “what you did to my husband. Get on your knees.”

“What I did to him?” Negan pressed “You mean how I cracked open his skull and popped out his goddamn eyeball? How I bashed his big, beautiful brains into the ground over and over while you and his little friends watched? Is that what you mean?

“Ah, I used to say that I didn't enjoy killin'.” Negan sighed with satisfaction “That was a lie. Your old man… Christ, I forgot his name again. But he was different. Killin' him the way I did, ooh, now, that was fun.”

Maggie pressed the key into the lock, the teeth rolling over the internal mechanisms echoing in the dark cell. Negan took to his knees, as had been requested of him.

“Get to it. Have your justice. Kill me. It was worth it.”

“Lemme see you in the light.” Maggie demanded.

“Come on.” Negan beckoned her on “Kill me.” She turned the key, the lock clicking loudly. “You not have it in you?” Negan teased “Don't you punk out like Rick.”

“Come into the light.” Maggie demanded again.

“Kill me. This is what you came here for!” Negan demanded, his tone becoming desperate “You kill me!”

“Move into the light.” Maggie spook through her teeth, peeved.

“Kill me.” Negan’s head went down and he began to cry. Maggie finally lost her patience, pulling the door open and tearing Negan from his cell and into what little light there was in the room.

“Please. Please.” Negan began to beg. He was disheveled and cowering on the floor in a useless pile. “Please kill me.

“Why?” Maggie asked

“You have to. Just do it.”

“You tell me why!” Maggie began to yell at him “Tell me! Why should I?!”

“So I can be with my family!” Negan cried out “So I can be with Lucille! And with my Y/N!” Negan sobbed silently.

“I should be dead.” He began to ramble “I have to be dead. And it's supposed to be you. It has to be you, because I can't do it. I can't do it. I've tried. I can't. I can't be like this. Please, please don't make me stay like this. It's... Settle it.” He was so distraught every other word he was gasping for air. “Settle me. Kill me. Please.”

“Get back in your cell.” Maggie ordered

“No.” Negan protested from the floor where he lay “No. No. No.” He sobbed “Why?”

“I came to kill Negan,” Maggie said “and you're already worse than dead. That settles it.” Negan hid his face as he sobbed “Go.” she ordered.

He knew better than to argue with her, especially how she pulled him out of the cell without breaking a sweat. “It wasn't supposed to be like this.” He protested weakly, “It wasn't supposed to be like this.”

With that Maggie locked the gate and left the cell, content that her husband’s murderer was suffering.

“What the hell was that?” One of the kingdom’s people said when they were far enough away, clearly talking to you. In their eyes you were the last saviour. They strode up behind you.

“I don’t know” You muttered, pulling one of the horses along the road

You were walking as fast as you can, basically dragging the horses and carriages and this man wanted to fight. “What do you mean you don’t know!”

“I don’t know!” You yelled back, continuing to move. “People do stupid shit when they’re scared!”

“They killed Fred!”

“We killed them!” You finally let go of the horse and turned around to face the man. “And you’ve been killing them for a long time!”

“You don’t know what they-”

“The war?” You cut him off “I know that there is a factory full of people who are starving, working their ass off to get you ethanol, and have no protection.” You were too caught in the moment to notice the wagon train had stopped moving and too angry to hear Jerry and Carol calling to you “Not fighters! Workers! People who didn’t get a chance to defend themselve in your precious fucking war and are paying the price for it!”

Horses trotted up to meet you halfway in the road. You recognised Maggie, Eugene, Tara, and Michone and a few others. Daryl rode up from the back of the group on his bike.

“What happened?” Maggie rode up to the group and asked Carol.

“Saviours jumped us. Ended up shooting each other.” Carol explained. “The gun fire could’ve attracted the herd so we left.”

“Where’s Rick?” Daryl asked.

“He’s not with you?” You shot back.

“What if he headed back to the camp?” Beatrice, a girl from Oceanside, pitched. You could feel the panic set in the group. Daryl disembarked from his bike.

“I know a shortcut. Come on!” He lead the way into the forest. You and a large group instantly took off on foot, following him closely. Within minutes you were back at the bridge to a horrifying sight.

Countless walkers were crossing the bridge. The herd was so thick no sunlight was travelling through and standing at the end of the bridge, with all those walkers heading right towards him, was Rick. Daryl already had his bow out and was picking off the walkers that got too close to his friend.

“What is he doing?!” Maggie yelled.

“He's hurt!” Michone cried. You noticed his clothes were soaked in blood

“That herd that went right through Hilltop.” Daryl gasped “He's trying to bring down the bridge.”

In the next instant Michone had her sword out and was running towards the herd. You called after her and ran after her.

“We turn them around. Fight 'em back.” Maggie followed close behind you

“Fire your guns.” Carol ordered “Try to divert them.

Michone called to Rick as you all ran to the herd, but a moment later the herd caught in flames. Michone stumbled back as the orange heat climbed above your heads. She stood there a moment, shocked into place. You looked through the flames and felt yourself thrown back into your army days.

Rubble and sand were all around you. The air was heavy with debris. It was you, five other servicemen and countless civilians trapped into a crumbling building while bullets flew outside. Children were crying and parents could do nothing to calm them. There was a moment of calm. A moment to get the group through a gap in the rock fall near the back of the building. You got them through while the others lay down ground fire, keeping the enemy at bay. You pulled yourself through the hole after the last of the civilians made it out and went about helping your fellow soldier. They were nearly clear when an explosion went off in the building and you were both sent backwards. You could feel the heat from the explosion on your face, but your ally could feel their life seeping out of their lost leg. He screamed out in complete agony.

The same way Michone screamed out. When you felt yourself come back you noticed Maggie and Carol were holding her back and you had fallen to the ground.

“Y/N!” Tara yelled to you, pulling the rest of you into the present “We have to go!” You nodded rapidly and pulled yourself to your feet. You all retreated back a ways so the herd wouldn’t come to you right away.

“I need to find him,” Michone sobbed. “I need to help him.”

The smoke was rising above them in thick clouds. The radio was going crazy with people who were seeing the smoke.

“What was that?”

“Was that the bridge?”

One of the people with you got on the radio. “Rick!” he called breathlessly “He blew it to stop the herd!”

Everyone around you was in shock and crying horribly. These people had followed Rick, and now they seemed lost. You were in no way a leader but-

“We can look downstream.” You spoke up. Pale and contorted faces looked back at you. “If he fell in the water he’ll be downstream… If he got hit by the blow back he’ll be on the road bu-”

“You heard her.” A man with long hair in a bun and a beard. His face was red but he was already tired of crying “Downstream.”

“I gotta-” Michon spoke, shaking as she got back to her feet. The man beckoned her. In the next moment a small group had run past to look downstream.

“I gotta go to Sanctuary” You announced to those left. Carol nodded, tears streaming down her face. “They gotta know what happened here.”

“Go,” she croaked out, “and bring them back to kingdom.” Beatrice immediately got angry at the notion but before she could speak Carol silenced her. “Without that bridge they’ll starve. Rick didn’t fight for that.” Carol looked back at you. “Go.”

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