#ooooh my god the wording in this ask is making me insane | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

waynes-multiverse · 2 months ago

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Ooooh, Arty! I'm so excited for this series (and your FBI one, which I'm hopping into next) 😍 You know I'm obsessed with those things 😂👏

Let's jump into it! 🍿

I can see why she'd need a bodyguard. Girl, you can't be sitting in a bar as a presidential candidate. Please tell me Secret Service has eyes on this "madwoman" 😂

Either way, you both had incredibly good future legislations and laws, and whoever was elected there’d be a woman as the President for the first time, which was good. Really good.

Yup 💯💯💯 Although, I don't think Shurley's up for the job... 😒

Bella sounds like me 😂 Are we redheads all the same?

You asked in severe mild concern, while Steph just looked either repulsed or amused.

I love when authors add (funny) information in parentheses or strike words through! It adds so much comedy and is my favorite kind of writing style 🤍

That means you got… 64% of the vote

Whoa! You can almost call that a landslide! 🥳

Suck it, Amara 😝

You were the President. The first female President. POTUS. The youngest ever elected too, at 35.

Dude, she's winning in, like... life 👀

But there's something missing... Ah yes! Who will be the First Gentleman? *coughs*

And please tell me the girls are moving with her into the White House. I'd die 😂😂

“I’m Becky Rosen, I’ll be your assistant.

Oh dear God, no... 😂 I had a feeling when she snuck up on me in this paragraph lmao

But is she okay? Why do I get the sense her eye bags don't come from being overworked? Is someone threatening her? Trying to gain access to Mme Pres. through her? I'm on alert! 👀

Well, you did say unorthodox applicants can apply if they wanted to, you just didn’t expect a dude in prison to put his file through.

That is a fair assumption 😅 Only one dude would be this crazy to apply to the freaking White House as personal bodyguard to the freaking president 🙈

A hitman with a list of bodies long enough to fill a small town cemetery

Jesus effing Christ...

I wonder what really went on there? Can't imagine Dean, even AU!Dean, to be this damn cold-blooded without a somewhat (we do forgive him a lot) sound reason

Dean had always been a man who thrived on freedom—the smell of asphalt under the Impala’s tires, the weight of a weapon he knew as intimately as his own heartbeat, the thrill of a job well done.

Chills! Literal chills! 👏

“Unorthodox candidates,” he muttered, smirking. “Guess I qualify.”

Uhm, sweetie...? You feelin' good? 😂

I love how his whole plan rides on "oh, I can get pardoned if I work for the president" 🤣 Dream big, I guess

Before my incarceration, I was highly skilled in tactical operations, surveillance, and neutralising high-level targets. My ability to assess danger and act decisively has been tested in some of the most dangerous environments.

That sounds almost like one Russell Shaw 😏 (Which makes sense, considering they're both the same person – thanks Jackles 😂)

neither were fancy words, and he used a lot of them.

You did good, boo 😘👏

Feldman stared at him like he’d grown a second head. “You realize this is insane, right? You’re in here for life. They’re not going to let you out just because you can write a heartfelt letter.”

A realist, you might say 😂

His lawyer might eat his own ass after he gets out 🤣🤣

“The fuck is this?” You gestured to the heavy shackles on Dean’s wrists and ankles

I love her! She treats him like a human being already, and not like a murderous animal 🤍

He’s not being a perv.

Mmm, I don't quite believe you, Mr. Winchester 😅

“But the equal amounts of money went to Stanford in deposits. Why?”

Ah! And suddenly, it all becomes quite clear. Of course he did all this crazy shit for Sammy. And I bet Sammy, the prosecutor, just loves the fact that his brother is a hitman in prison 😂

You’re. Hired. He could die.

Arty, if this is foreshadowing, I will kill you. Hope you have your bodyguard ready 😝

That whole reunion with Sam made me tear up for real 😭 That was so sweet and genuine!

“He’s teething,” Eden said with a weary smile. “So, you know…living the dream.”

Yes. Just been there last week again 😂

Her family also seems so sweet. She needs a good support system with this job, and it seems like she has that 🤍

Dean Winchester strode into the room with the kind of presence that made people stop and take notice. He was tall, broad-shouldered, and carried himself with a casual confidence that hinted at years of facing danger head-on. He wore a dark gray suit that was tailored just enough to highlight his powerful frame but not so tight as to make him look polished or delicate. The crisp white shirt underneath contrasted against his tanned skin, and his black tie was slightly loosened, as if he’d deliberately left it that way.

I died somewhere while reading this paragraph 🔥🥵🫠

Steph scoffed, shaking her head. “Girl, no. He’s better than that, he puts Adonis to shame— where’s he been hiding?”

I'm with Steph on this one. Ben Affleck? Ew.

And I have a feeling those walls aren't as thick as the girls believe they are 😂

“So he’s a bad boy.” Bella giggled

DECEASED 🤣🤣🤣 Bella should join the PR team!

That whole conversation has me rolling on the floor, girl 😂 There were so many gems here 🤍✨

“Hey, I’m just calling it like I see it,” Sam said with a grin. “Besides, you deserve someone who can keep up with you.”

Joking or not, I can't believe Sam's entertaining this idea and encouraging him to hit on the president (and his only ticket outta prison) 😂

Wonderful first chapter, babe! 👏👏👏 So stoked to see where this goes, to have more wild girl chats, and more romantic as well as sexual tension! 😏😍

𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞 𝐱𝐲𝐳 1

SUMMARY: You’re the first female president of the USA, having won the 2014 elections against Amara Shurley by a landslide. Now that you were a symbol of feminism, reform and a better country, it meant that there were a lot more assassination attempts bound to be on your head. For that, you needed a personal bodyguard, so you had to pick right. And you picked right in convicted ex-hitman Dean Winchester. Right?

TW: assassination attempts, ex-hitman!Dean, POTUS!reader, politics!au, politics, murder, gunfire, boss reader, angst, major sexual tension between reader and Dean but also romantic tension cause we love that, slow/quick burn, y’all will have to figure that out

A/N: In honour of our queen Kamala Harris, who didn’t win the 2024 elections, so I give you what could’ve been

NOW PLAYING: Power by Little Mix

office fever

God, the wait was killing you.

You were sitting in a bar, hoping that when the results of the final poll came you were drunk enough that you’d cheer and scream like a madwoman to counteract the inevitable news that you’d lose the 2014 presidential elections to your only eligible opponent, Amara Shurley. Either way, you both had incredibly good future legislations and laws, and whoever was elected there’d be a woman as the President for the first time, which was good. Really good.

“Come on, babes, cheer up!” Stephanie, one of your two best friends, drawled, checking her manicured nails while absent-mindedly sipping on a Long Island Iced Tea like it was merely water, but that was Steph O’Donnell for you, plain and simple. Eh, she was a bit nails-obsessed, but you loved her anyway for it, she did always look immaculate.

Bella, your other, redhead best friend, sighed and smacked Steph upside her blonde head, earning a gasp at the potentially ruined heatless curls (no, they weren’t ruined, she’s just being dramatic). “Maybe you just need to get less alcohol in your system.” She said pointedly, plucking the vodka shot out of your fingers.

“Bels, if anything, she needs more.” Steph pointed out after checking if her hair wasn’t frizzed up in a pocket mirror. “If she wins, it just means she’s capable of partying harder.”

Bella sighed and rolled her eyes, shaking her head with a small laugh, tsking internally at the notion. “She needs to remain sober for when she gets the results, and she’s going to win.” Bella turned to you with a sparkling smile and took your hand, squeezing it. “We’re here for you, girl. Sure, it’s totally possible that the Amara Shurley woman could win the election — she’s older — but if the country’s not stupid, then you’ll be the next POTUS.”

“I’m not sure whether to feel better or worse.” You playfully rolled your eyes, but let the vodka shot go and gestured to the bartender with a resigned sigh. Yeah, you could go without alcohol for tonight. “But ok. One mocktail, and surprise me with it. Cheers.” You looked to Bella with raised eyebrows, tipping your head slightly. “So, what if I lose the election?”

Bella tutted, and Steph looked up from her nails in shock— damn, that’s how you knew you were in deep shit. “Baby girl, you better get that thinking out of your head right now.” Steph gasped, pressing a hand to her chest in shock. “You are an icon for a feminist nation— a non-toxic feminist nation. If people don’t vote for you, I’m gonna kill those who didn’t, those who did can live.”

“Don’t do that.”

“I’ll do it.”

“Steph, no—”

“Yes—”

A loud squeal from Bella distracted both of you and almost made Steph spill the Cosmo that matched her nails and also made her shoot a you bitch look that she really didn’t mean, but then Bella started flapping her hands and making squealing and unintelligible, Brittany from Alvin and the Chipmunk-esque sounds that made you and Steph share a look. “You ok, Bels?” You asked in severe mild concern, while Steph just looked either repulsed or amused.

“Are you having a stroke?” Steph continued, checking for any signs of maybe a heart attack or an ice cube lodged down her throat so her speech becomes little whistles.

“Do you smell toast?” You waved a hand in front of your nose, but then her phone was shoved in front of your face so the screen and everything went blurry, not to mention the sting of the light on your eyes— shit, that burned until your retinas. Grabbing the phone from her, you held it at a distance and squinted (“grandma”, said Steph) but then saw the headline.

2014 PRESIDENTIAL ELECTIONS, FINAL POLL RESULTS

Then you scrolled down, with bated breath and clutching Bella’s hand like you wanted to rip it off, and you took a shaky look at the numbers.

AMARA SHURLEY — 36%

That means you got… 64% of the vote, now that you did the math. Holy shit. “Holy shit!” You gasped, letting out a Bella-reminiscent squeal just as Steph did, and you were smothered by two heavily-perfumed hugs, the wind knocked out of you, but did that matter? No.

You were the President. The first female President. POTUS. The youngest ever elected too, at 35.

Holy fuck, holy shit, holy crap. This was the most beautiful day of your life, beside the day you met Bella and Steph, that day was important. “You’re POTUS.” Steph grinned, waving for, like, six whiskeys for all of you to down.

“You’re POTUS, baby girl.” Bella giggled, squeezing your shoulders and then spinning around on her bar stool, pointing obviously to you and yelling “POTUS!”, earning a round of cheers and applause from the patrons that made you bury your face in your hands.

But you did it with a grin. You were the President.

Honestly, being the President was exhilarating, cause that meant you got to make real change, it was incredible. Your new security team had fended off the paparazzi from smothering you Bella and Steph style except more annoying as you were escorted into the White House, a woman only a little younger than you waiting with an eager grin and a clipboard hugged to her chest.

“Welcome to the White House, Madam President.” She grinned, holding out her hand nervously then retracting it— she didn’t know what new bosses wanted, alright? “I’m Becky Rosen, I’ll be your assistant. Anything you need, I’ll handle it. Do you want anything? Tea, coffee, water, a martini— if you want a martini I’ll have the barman get one ready and waiting for you in the Oval Office…”

During that time she’d been rambling you’d examined Becky, getting a feel for what she was like. Thank God your assistant was a woman also and she seemed like good fun, lively spirit, definitely someone who won’t make your schedule sound boring. But she looked overworked and tired, maybe from the last president— that’d be Raphael Easton, right? Yeah.

“Two things,” you started as you were walking through the halls to the Oval Office, “do you have the files for personal bodyguard applicants that I can cycle through before making official speeches?”

“They’re all on your desk, ma’am.” Becky answered almost immediately— damn, she was rather eager, and happy with her job, clearly, but also had dark circles and eye bags that made something twinge in you. It didn’t sit right.

You nodded, then gave her a warm smile, gently taking the clipboard. “How ‘bout you take the day off, yeah? It’s only my first day, I don’t need anything yet, and I can get the applicants from…” You looked through the labels on the file: FBI, CIA, private agencies, ADX Supermax— ADX Supermax?

“What’s wrong, ma’am?” Becky asked, seeing the way your words trailed off upon seeing the file amid all the other incredibly professional outlets for protection, an applicant from the ADX. Well, you did say unorthodox applicants can apply if they wanted to, you just didn’t expect a dude in prison to put his file through.

Oh. Upon opening it, it was just a letter.

You looked up to Becky, biting your lip in thought, cause if this guy’s in the Supermax, he’s prolific.

“Do I have a direct line to the director of the FBI?”

ADX Florence was a fortress, a high-tech prison designed to keep America’s most dangerous criminals sealed away from the world. It wasn’t a place where hope grew. Dean Winchester, prisoner 11347-7, wasn’t the kind of guy to expect hope anyway. A hitman with a list of bodies long enough to fill a small town cemetery, he had resigned himself to spending the rest of his days in this tomb of concrete and steel.

It wasn’t regret that gnawed at him in the sterile silence of his cell. Regret wasn’t his style. He’d made his choices, taken his hits, and lived by the only code he knew: survival. But that didn’t mean he liked being locked away. Dean had always been a man who thrived on freedom—the smell of asphalt under the Impala’s tires, the weight of a weapon he knew as intimately as his own heartbeat, the thrill of a job well done.

Now, his days were measured in three meals delivered through a slot and the endless monotony of isolation. Until that morning in 2008 when the guard, a surly guy Dean called Mustache, slid a newspaper into his cell along with the breakfast tray.

Dean didn’t read newspapers often. What was the point? The world moved on without him. But that day, boredom got the better of him. He skimmed headlines about wars, scandals, and the economy’s nosedive. Nothing he hadn’t expected. Then his eyes landed on something that made him sit up straighter on the cot.

“Wanted: Elite Personal Security for First Female President. Apply Now.”

The ad stood out like a neon sign in a desert. Beneath the bold letters was a glossy image of the President standing in front of the White House, flanked by Secret Service agents. The text outlined the need for a personal bodyguard—someone with impeccable skills, discretion, and a willingness to take a bullet if necessary. Experience required. Unorthodox candidates welcome.

Dean read it twice, then a third time, the words stirring something he hadn’t felt in years. It wasn’t quite hope, but it was close.

ADX Supermax wasn’t the kind of place where people left easily. But this ad…this ad was a door, cracked open just wide enough for someone like him to slip through.

“Unorthodox candidates,” he muttered, smirking. “Guess I qualify.”

By lunchtime, Dean had a plan. It wasn’t perfect—nothing he did ever was—but it was a shot, and that was more than he usually got in this place.

He spent hours staring at the blank sheet of paper he’d salvaged from a previous legal memo. Writing wasn’t his strong suit. Hell, if he’d been good at words, maybe he wouldn’t have ended up in the killing business in the first place. But this wasn’t about flowery language. It was about convincing someone that a convicted hitman could be trusted with the life of the most powerful person in the country.

Dean leaned over the small desk bolted to the wall of his cell, chewing the end of his pen as he started to scribble.

To Madam President,

I am writing to express my interest in the position of personal security for the President. I realize my application may raise questions, given my current circumstances, but I ask for your consideration based on my unique qualifications.

Though I am serving time for my past actions, I believe in redemption. This position represents an opportunity for me to use my skills for a greater purpose. I have spent my years here reflecting on my choices, and I am prepared to dedicate my life to protecting someone who stands for hope and progress in this country.

Thank you for your time and consideration. I am available for an interview at your convenience.

Sincerely, Dean Winchester

He read over the letter a dozen times, making minor adjustments. It was rough, sure, but it was honest. And honesty was something he didn’t traffic in often, neither were fancy words, and he used a lot of them.

By the time he was done, his hand ached, and the paper was smudged from his grip. He folded it carefully and tucked it into the pocket of his jumpsuit.

The next step was trickier.

Dean’s lawyer, a wiry man named Feldman who’d been paid off by some shadowy client years ago to keep an eye on him, didn’t usually show up unless Dean demanded it. This time, Dean played the card of “urgent legal matter.” When Feldman arrived, looking mildly annoyed but curious, Dean slid the letter across the table during their monitored meeting.

“You want me to…submit this?” Feldman asked, raising an eyebrow.

Dean nodded. “Straight to the President’s office. No detours, no ‘I’ll get to it later.’ This is priority one.”

“They might if they’re desperate enough,” Dean countered. “And that ad says they’re looking for someone who can do the job, not someone who looks good on paper. I can do the job.”

Feldman sighed, running a hand through his thinning hair. “And if I say no?”

Dean’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. “You won’t. You owe me.”

Feldman muttered something under his breath but pocketed the letter. “You’re lucky I like long shots.”

Weeks passed. Dean didn’t hear anything, and for a while, he wondered if Feldman had tossed the letter in the nearest trash can. But then, one morning, Mustache appeared at his cell with an unreadable expression.

“You’ve got a visitor,” he said gruffly.

Dean frowned. “Who?”

“Didn’t say. Get up.”

Visitors were rare, especially unannounced ones. Dean followed Mustache down the cold, narrow corridors, his curiosity growing. When he reached the visitor room, his breath caught.

The woman sitting on the other side of the plexiglass partition was dressed in a crisp suit, her posture radiating authority. She wasn’t Feldman, and she definitely wasn’t a typical visitor.

Dean picked up the phone on his side of the glass.

“Mr. Winchester,” she said, her voice calm but firm. “I’m here on behalf of the President.”

He leaned back in his chair, smirking. “Guess you got my letter.”

Her expression didn’t change. “We did. It was…unconventional.”

“That’s me in a nutshell.”

She glanced at a folder on the table in front of her. “Your record is extensive. Multiple charges of murder-for-hire, conspiracy, weapons trafficking…” She looked up, her sharp eyes locking onto his. “Why should we trust you?”

Dean leaned forward, his tone serious. “Because I know what I’m doing. You want someone who’ll lay down their life for the President? Someone who’ll see the threats before anyone else does? That’s me. I’ve been on both sides of this game. I know how killers think because I’ve been one. And if you give me this chance, I’ll prove that I’m more than what’s in that file.”

The woman studied him for a long moment before standing. “We’ll be in touch.”

Dean hung up the phone, watching her leave with a mixture of hope and disbelief. For the first time in years, it felt like the world outside ADX Supermax wasn’t as far away as it seemed.

You’d been running interviews for a bodyguard for about a week now, and you’d only started them once Becky had gotten a good rest, as well as the rest of the staff at the White House so they could spend good time with their families. First few weeks of presidency were busy ones, so you wanted your employees to have some time for themselves before anything happened.

Nobody seemed suitable to you, even though you’d been presented with the best FBI, CIA and private outlet’s security detail they had, they’d each and all failed your every attempt to make them seem credible, you didn’t want anyone like that. Tabloids had already gotten to smearing your name regarding this, but you were more concerned with your final applicant.

Dean Winchester.

You’d asked the FBI to send over every file they had on him, and the list was — you hated to say it — extensive. Many assassinations of high and low-level targets, and he was credited with over 100 assassinations in the past two years— you had your doubts about this guy, the director of the FBI had said he was in there for a reason.

You’d find out if he was unhinged, or just a normal man.

Well, Dean had been escorted as covertly as possible with a bunch of military and secret service agents, which didn’t make sense as his hands were shackled to his feet. The only way he’d be getting out of these chains was if he was a magician, and he wasn’t, just incredibly good at marksmanship and fighting, thank John for that.

“Alright, alright.” He scoffed, almost tripping out of the car as he was practically shoved up the steps by the agents by his head. “I’m moving, I’m moving, Jesus fuck, you ladies are uptight.” He got to the door of the White House, and holy shit, he was really here. He got let in, hearing a Secret Service agent blabbing in his ear.

“Any funny business, 353, and we’re sending you straight back. You’re gonna address Madam President with respect, no cheek—” Ugh, the sound of his voice was grating, but all Dean could do was let out a terse nod as he was led to the door of the Oval Office and led inside. He stepped in, glaring at the service agent who had been yapping about decorum. Then, suddenly—

“Oi! Hey, hey!” A woman’s voice snapped, and he looked up from his shackles to see you, and boy, were you young for a president. You had to be his age, right? Yeah, and you were surprisingly gorgeous for a POTUS, but the way you’d stood up with a loud chair screech from your desk, snapped your fingers and pointing at Dean’s shackles with a livid expression, he knew the agents were in deep shit.

“The fuck is this?” You gestured to the heavy shackles on Dean’s wrists and ankles— they were quite heavy and uncomfortable, now that he paid attention to it, but he was more focused on how much of a little Spitfire you were. Young, but you were snapping at these middle-aged men as if they were 5 year old children. “You might as well put a chain around his neck, for God’s sake— whichever of you has the key, take those things off and leave my office, if he kills me, fine, just have Amara take my place, she’ll do a damn good job as well.”

The service agents stood there, stunned, and then a stern look from you — “Damn,” Dean muttered — got the agent next to Dean to shove the key in the lock to his wrists and ankles, letting the chains fall free, and they were promptly carried out. You sighed, returning to your desk, running a hand through your hair.

“I am so sorry about that, Mr Winchester, I’ve just always found those chains really inhumane.” You rushed the sentence, gesturing to your desk in front of you and sipping your coffee to calm down. Honestly, not your best option, it probably made you more jittery.

Dean didn’t argue, he didn’t want to get scolded, just made his way to the desk, grey jumpsuit — he was in protective custody in prison — rustling with every step until he sat down on the irresistibly comfy chair, cause wow, prison chairs were hard and low standard.

His ass felt like it was in heaven right now.

“No problem, ma’am, I see the point. Not exactly the cleanest slate.” He didn’t think it was wise to make a joke of how he’d assassinated people for hire, but it made you laugh, so maybe that was good going. Who knows? “And call me Dean.”

“I see that.” You smiled, then gestured to Dean with a warm smile, not something he was used to unless it was the smiles of his mom that he barely remembered. Otherwise it was either hungry, lustful smiles of desperate women and cunning smiles of ruthless businessmen and mafia bosses. “So, Dean, before we get started, would you like anything? Tea, coffee, water, beer, whiskey— one candidate asked for straight vodka. He’s not getting the job.” Damn. The new POTUS was cool.

“Water would be great.” Dean would have a drop of whiskey, but he wanted to make a good impression and hydrate himself with something other than low-quality prison water. So, when you passed him the water, he downed the tall glass in three gulps, but then paused when he saw you watching.

Then he swallowed. Shit.

But you weren’t judging him, you seemed understanding, that yes, prison water probably tasted like rat piss, so he finished the rest of the glass and wiped his hand with the back of his mouth. “Sorry.”

“No need to apologise. Prison must be really rough, treat yourself.” You waved him off, shaking your head, then peered through his file. Rather interesting family background, how did he turn out that way? “Says here that your father’s a Marine Corporal veteran, thanks for his service, and your brother’s a prosecution lawyer that graduated from Stanford Law. Impressive.” You looked up at him, thumb playing with the ring on your middle finger, eyes focused on the paper.

Dean couldn’t help but note that you were beautiful. Not objectively, just factually beautiful. He’s not being a perv.

“My brother’s a nerd.” Dean stated with a smile as you talked about his family, he didn’t blame them, he wasn’t a bookworm, he wasn’t as smart as his little brother in that aspect, Sam was all about studying and being the good kid.

"Yeah, my brother used to say I was a nerd, now look at me." You chuckled, then nodded in acknowledgement. "You, however, you graduated just on the mark, no honours, didn't go to college and transactions show you started as a hitman when you were 20." You paused for a second, cause that was what you couldn’t put your finger on. "But the equal amounts of money went to Stanford in deposits. Why?"

Dean knew he was gonna be interrogated by the new President, that’s a given, and he made sure to prepare himself for the whole psychological evaluation of himself. His expression remained unreadable, only slightly surprised by how quickly you put together that he’d been paying for his brother’s college.

“He’s family. Sammy’s a good kid, he deserves to get away from this life.” Dean answered, it was a simple answer. It didn’t really dig deep into his past or his true relationships with his family.

Well, all you had to know was that his dad was paranoid after returning from deployment and taught him how to shoot like James fucking Bond and Sammy too, but Sam had left for college while Dean had nothing he could do for himself.

"Mhm." You hummed, looking through the rest of it. "Now my guys are finding that in the years since your brother left college, money you've earned from assassinations ordered by high level clients — that are now behind bars — has been wired to a rehab centre down in Delaware. I looked into it, and I found out your father's staying there. None of that money's going to you." Your voice wasn't judging. You instead sounded understanding.

The only reason why Dean wasn’t surprised or shocked by the fact that you knew this was the fact that you were the President. He should’ve guessed. He smiled slightly as you remained understanding about the whole situation though, most other politicians would’ve seen this as a chance to blackmail and threaten him.

“Yeah, my dad’s got severe PTSD. It’s the only good one nearby.” He explained as he crossed his arms. It would be hard to find a rehab centre that accepted his dad given the whole violent record he had.

You couldn’t help but feel sympathy at that. Dean’s juvenile record wasn’t the cleanest, so no shops would’ve hired him so he could make that money, only black ops would. It was strange, and you’d be under fire by the media if you voiced it, but you saw his struggle. “You did it for your family.” You were surprised at how softly you said that.

“Family don’t end in blood, ma’am.” Dean replied, honestly, and you were hit where it hurt by that statement. You were expecting a cold-hearted killer, not a man trying to do right by his post-traumatic father and little brother. “Not if I’m still breathin’. Sammy’s got a good life, a wife, by what I’ve heard. Don’t wanna burden him with all that shit, a-and I haven’t talked to him in a few years. My boy.” He cleared his throat to not get too emotional.

You had to do that too, just to be clear.

“I’m sorry.” But that wouldn’t just fix everything, so you took a moment to let that hang in order to give him some time. “Only important question I’m gonna ask. Hypothetically, we’re under fire at one of my events. You’ve gotten me to safety, and I give you the order to do the same for civilians. Do you do it?”

Dean took in the question, eyebrow raised slightly as he leaned forward, elbows resting on the table as he studied you. That was a odd but interesting question. This was a job interview for real, it seems.

But this answer was simple.

“Civilians. I’d get the innocents out first.” He said, there wasn’t even a hint of hesitation in his voice. Civilians, innocent people will always come first before anything and anyone. He’d made sure when performing hits that no civilians, women, fathers, men, mothers, children— were safely out of the way before taking a shot. If they weren’t, he refused. He wasn’t risking it.

He was expecting you to refuse him on the spot, but instead two words came out that almost made him go “holy shit”.

“You’re hired.”

You’re. Hired. He could die.

“I-I’m sorry, Madam President, I’m what?” He practically gasped, hands clutching the arms of his seat, watching you take out some already prepared parole papers and walking to the door in your heels, handing the file to one of the service agents.

“Hired.” You said simply, a shrug and a smile offered as you walked to the desk. Fucking hell, Dean had never seen a stranger president in his life. “Your parole is being passed effective immediately, and I wanna get you in touch with my stylist and wardrobe guy so we can get you some new and frankly more comfortable clothes. You’ll be staying here, at the White House, you’ll have full access to my staff for anything you might need, but most importantly, you need to call your family.” You tapped your landline that you had prepared on the desk with a small, encouraging smile. “I have Sam’s number and the rehab centre’s number both in your directory file, I’ll give you some time to talk rather than waiting like a creep.”

As you walked out, Dean couldn’t believe his ears. He was now the President’s bodyguard, he got to live in luxury, no doubt there was a large paycheck and he got to call Sammy again. His Sammy, oh, holy shit.

His hand shook as he reached for the landline, opening the file and there it was, Sam’s number, and it’d changed since he got put in prison a good six months ago. His fingers fumbled, clumsily dialling the number and waiting a moment as the dial tone stopped and the ringing shook his eardrum. Please pick up, please pick up, please pick up, please pick up—

“Hello?” Dean’s heart broke upon hearing Sam’s voice again, and he took a shaky breath. Get a grip, Winchester, it’s only your little brother, the man you raised your while life.

“Bitch.” His voice sounded like he’d smoked cigarettes, and he’d quit that habit after high school, but all he could hear was the dead silence of realisation on the other side.

“Jerk.”

The motorcade pulled up to the white-brick colonial house just as the late afternoon sun began to dip behind the row of oaks lining the driveway. You leaned back in your seat, letting out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. For months now, your life had been a whirlwind of campaign rallies, debates, and sleepless nights in cramped hotels. It all felt surreal. You were the President of the United States. Yet, somehow, coming home to this house—the one you’d grown up in—was what made it all feel real.

Secret Service agents stepped out first, scanning the quiet suburban neighborhood for threats. You glanced out the tinted window, catching a glimpse of the familiar front porch where your father had painted the railing a deep blue years ago. The door creaked open, and a small figure darted out onto the lawn before anyone could stop him.

“Austin!”

The call came from Eden, your sister-in-law, who appeared a moment later, balancing baby Wyatt on her hip. She looked harried but happy, waving at you from the porch. Austin, however, was already halfway to the car, his untied sneakers slapping against the pavement.

You smiled despite yourself. Rolling down the window, you called out, “Hold on, buddy, let them do their job.”

The boy skidded to a stop as one of the agents gently but firmly intercepted him, patting him on the shoulder and guiding him back toward the porch. Austin complied, but his excitement was evident in every bouncing step.

By the time you exited the car, your father, Mark, was standing on the porch steps, arms crossed but with a wide grin splitting his face. “There she is,” he said, his voice booming with pride. “Madame President.”

You felt your cheeks flush as you climbed the steps. “Dad, don’t start.”

“Oh, I’ll start, alright,” he said, pulling you into a tight hug. “My daughter, the leader of the free world! They’re gonna need to expand that Oval Office just to fit my pride.”

“Mark, give her some room to breathe,” your mother, Odette, chided as she stepped outside. She was smaller than you remembered, her hair streaked with more gray than the last time you’d seen her. But her smile was as warm as ever. She held her arms open, and you leaned into her familiar embrace, the scent of lavender and vanilla washing over you.

“It’s good to see you, Mom,” you murmured.

“We’re so proud of you,” she said softly, pulling back to study your face. “But I bet you’re exhausted.”

You nodded, glancing over her shoulder to see your older brother Ryan descending the stairs, a grin on his face. “Well, well, look who decided to come back down to earth,” he teased, reaching out to clap you on the shoulder.

“Someone’s gotta keep you grounded,” you shot back, the familiar rhythm of sibling banter falling into place as though no time had passed.

Eden appeared beside him, Wyatt still on her hip. She offered you a smile, and you leaned in to kiss her cheek. “How’s this little guy doing?” you asked, reaching out to tickle Wyatt’s chin. The baby let out a squeal of laughter, his chubby arms flailing.

“He’s teething,” Eden said with a weary smile. “So, you know…living the dream.”

Austin, who had been hovering impatiently at the edge of the group, finally couldn’t contain himself. “Auntie!” he shouted, throwing his arms around your waist.

“Hey, kiddo,” you said, ruffling his hair. “What’s new?”

“I got an A on my science project!” he said, looking up at you with bright eyes.

“That’s great!” you said. “What was the project?”

“Volcanoes,” he said, puffing out his chest. “Dad helped me with the lava.”

Ryan coughed. “Helped is a strong word. He mostly just told me what to do.”

“That’s because you were doing it wrong!” Austin protested, and the group dissolved into laughter.

Inside, the house was exactly as you remembered it. The worn hardwood floors creaked under your feet, and the faint scent of your mother’s cooking lingered in the air. The walls were covered with family photos—some old, some new—including one of you on election night, surrounded by your team, your face frozen in an expression of shock and joy.

Dinner was already laid out on the long wooden table in the dining room. A roast chicken sat in the center, surrounded by bowls of mashed potatoes, green beans, and your mother’s famous macaroni casserole. It was a far cry from the catered meals you’d been eating on the campaign trail, and your stomach growled in anticipation.

“Let’s eat before it gets cold,” Odette said, ushering everyone to their seats.

You took your usual spot, sandwiched between Austin and your father, while Ryan carved the chicken. Plates were passed around, and soon the room was filled with the clatter of silverware and the hum of conversation.

Mark raised his glass of water. “A toast,” he said, his voice cutting through the din. “To my daughter. The first woman to sit in the Oval Office. You’ve made us all so proud.”

“Here, here!” Ryan chimed in, lifting his own glass.

You felt a lump rise in your throat as you clinked glasses with everyone around the table. For a moment, the weight of your responsibilities seemed to lift, replaced by the simple joy of being surrounded by the people who had always believed in you.

After dinner, you helped your mother clear the table, despite her protests. “You’re the President now,” she said, swatting your hands away from the plates. “You don’t need to be doing dishes.”

“Maybe not,” you said, grinning. “But I don’t think I’ve outgrown being your daughter.”

She relented, shaking her head with a fond smile, and the two of you worked side by side in comfortable silence. When the last dish was put away, you found yourself drawn to the living room, where the rest of the family had gathered.

Ryan was sprawled on the couch, flipping through a photo album with Austin perched beside him. Eden sat in the armchair, rocking Wyatt to sleep, while Mark stood by the fireplace, nursing a cup of coffee.

You sank into the armchair opposite Eden, your eyes drawn to the flickering flames in the hearth. “It feels good to be home,” you said softly.

Mark looked over at you, his expression thoughtful. “You’ve got a hell of a road ahead of you, kid,” he said. “But don’t forget—you’ve got us. We’re here for you, no matter what.”

You nodded, feeling the truth of his words settle in your chest. “I know,” you said. “And I’m going to need that. All of it.”

Ryan looked up from the photo album, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Think we’ll get to visit the White House? Austin’s dying to see the bowling alley.”

Austin’s head snapped up. “There’s a bowling alley?”

You laughed. “There is. And yeah, you’ll all come visit. But I can’t promise I’ll have much time for bowling.”

“Why not?” Austin asked, his brow furrowing. “You’re the President. Can’t you just…make time?”

The simplicity of his question made you smile. “It’s a little more complicated than that, buddy,” you said. “But I’ll do my best.”

Later that night, after the house had quieted and everyone had gone to bed, you found yourself standing in the backyard. The air was crisp and cool, and the stars above were brighter than you remembered. You wrapped your arms around yourself, feeling the enormity of your new role settle over you like a heavy cloak.

The back door creaked open, and Mark stepped outside, a blanket draped over his shoulders. He joined you on the porch, handing you a steaming mug of tea.

“Couldn’t sleep?” he asked.

You shook your head. “Too much on my mind.”

Mark nodded, staring out at the dark yard. “It’s a big job,” he said. “But if anyone can handle it, it’s you.”

“I hope so,” you said quietly.

He placed a hand on your shoulder, his grip firm and reassuring. “You’ve got what it takes,” he said. “And you’ve got us. Don’t forget that.”

You looked up at him, your heart swelling with gratitude. “Thanks, Dad.”

He smiled, pulling the blanket tighter around himself. “Come on,” he said, gesturing toward the house. “You’ve got a long day ahead of you tomorrow. Let’s get some sleep.”

As you followed him inside, you felt a sense of peace you hadn’t felt in months. No matter how hard the road ahead might be, you knew you wouldn’t be walking it alone.

The Oval Office was as grand as you’d imagined—perhaps even more so. Its high, curved ceilings and rich, historic decor exuded authority, yet the warmth of the afternoon sunlight filtering through the tall windows softened the edges, giving the room an almost serene quality.

You sat at the Resolute Desk, a stack of documents waiting for your signature. Each one bore the weight of history. Education reforms. Trade agreements. Environmental policies. Every flick of your pen carried consequences that rippled far beyond the iconic walls of this room.

Across the room, Becky, your ever-efficient assistant, was perched on the edge of one of the armchairs, tablet in hand. “After this meeting with the education committee, you’ve got a fifteen-minute break before the press briefing,” she said, scrolling rapidly through the day’s schedule. “Then at three, there’s the Cabinet discussion on infrastructure. And don’t forget the call with the German Chancellor at four.”

“Got it,” you replied, signing your name with a practiced flourish. “Anything else?”

Becky hesitated, glancing at her screen. “Oh, and your new personal bodyguard will be arriving shortly. Dean Winchester.”

You kept your expression neutral, though you’d been briefed extensively on this particular appointment. A former hitman, Dean’s resume wasn’t exactly typical for someone tasked with protecting the President. But his unconventional background—and the skillset that came with it—was exactly why he’d been chosen.

“Right,” you said, setting your pen down. “I’ve read his file. Has he been through security clearance?”

“Thoroughly vetted,” Becky assured you. “And cleared. He should be here any moment.”

You nodded, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “Let’s hope he lives up to the hype.”

Just as Becky opened her mouth to reply, the door opened.

You looked up, and the words you were about to say caught in your throat.

Despite the formal attire, there was an undeniable ruggedness about him. His short, tousled hair was just slightly too messy to be regulation, and the shadow of stubble along his jaw added an edge that no amount of tailoring could hide. His green eyes, sharp and assessing, swept the room before landing on you.

You found yourself momentarily distracted by the way the suit accentuated his broad chest and tapered waist. It was a rare thing for someone to wear something so formal yet exude the kind of raw, unrefined masculinity that Dean seemed to embody.

“Madame President,” he said, his voice low and gravelly as he stopped a respectful distance from your desk.

You forced yourself to refocus, clearing your throat as you rose from your seat. “Mr. Winchester.” You allowed yourself a small smile, noting the way his gaze remained steady but professional. “You clean up well.”

A flicker of amusement crossed his face. “Thanks. I aim to please.”

Becky glanced between the two of you before standing. “I’ll step out and make sure everything’s ready for the committee meeting,” she said, gathering her tablet.

“Thanks, Becky,” you said, watching her leave before turning back to Dean.

For a moment, the room felt smaller. His presence was magnetic, and you couldn’t help but take him in once more, your gaze lingering on the way his shoulders filled out the suit jacket, the way his long fingers rested casually at his sides, the way they gripped his chair as he sat down. You snapped your attention back to his face before he could notice.

Dean leaned back slightly in the chair, taking in the sight of you as you scanned your schedule on the tablet in front of you. The soft lighting of the Oval Office seemed to highlight the sharp lines of your features, and the way you carried yourself—confident, composed, entirely in command—struck him in a way he hadn’t expected.

He’d done his research, of course. He knew your career milestones, your policies, even a few of your personal quirks. But seeing you in person was different. The photographs didn’t do you justice.

As you spoke, your voice clear and firm, Dean found himself watching the curve of your lips, the subtle tilt of your head when you emphasized a point. You had a presence that filled the room, a quiet strength that made it impossible to look away.

“Your main job,” you were saying, “is to ensure my safety, both here and when I travel. You’ll coordinate with the Secret Service, but your focus will be on close-range protection. You’ll accompany me to all public appearances, meetings, and events.”

Dean nodded, forcing himself to focus on your words rather than the way your blouse fit perfectly beneath your blazer. “Understood. Anything specific I should know about your routine?”

You looked up, meeting his gaze. “It varies. I keep a tight schedule, but unexpected situations come up all the time. You’ll need to be adaptable.”

“I’m good at that,” Dean said, his tone confident but not cocky.

“Good.” You swiped at the tablet, then set it down on the desk. “I’ve read your file. Your skillset is…impressive.”

He tilted his head slightly, a faint smirk playing on his lips. “That’s one way to put it.”

You arched an eyebrow, your lips curving into a wry smile. “I’d call it unconventional, but that seems to be exactly what I need.”

Dean’s gaze flicked over you again, this time lingering on the curve of your jawline, the way your fingers tapped lightly against the edge of the desk. He’d worked with plenty of high-profile people before, but you were in a league of your own.

“Anything else I should be aware of?” he asked, his voice low.

You tilted your head, considering him for a moment. “You’re going to see me at my best and my worst,” you said plainly. “Long hours, high stress, bad days, good days. It comes with the territory.”

Dean nodded. “I’m here to do my job, ma’am. Whatever it takes.”

Something in his tone made you pause, your gaze sharpening as you studied him. “You’ve been in worse situations, haven’t you?”

“Let’s just say I’m no stranger to high stakes,” he replied, his smirk returning.

You leaned back in your chair, satisfied. “Good. I’ll need someone who can keep a cool head under pressure. And someone who doesn’t mind telling me the hard truth when I need to hear it.”

Dean’s smirk widened slightly. “I can handle that.”

The conversation shifted to logistics—your upcoming travel schedule, security protocols, and daily routines. Dean asked a few questions, his tone professional, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that he was studying you as much as he was listening.

If you noticed the way his eyes dipped to your collarbone when you leaned forward to make a point, or how his gaze lingered on the curve of your wrist as you gestured, you didn’t let on. You were focused, deliberate, every bit the commander-in-chief he’d expected.

When the meeting wrapped up, you stood and extended a hand again. “Welcome aboard, Dean. I look forward to working with you.”

Dean rose, his hand engulfing yours once more. “The pleasure’s mine, ma’am.”

As he turned to leave, you called after him, “And Dean?”

He paused, glancing over his shoulder.

“You really do look good in that suit.”

He chuckled softly, shaking his head as he left the room, the door clicking shut behind him.

Alone again, you returned to your desk, your mind already shifting to the next task. But for a moment, you allowed yourself a small smile.

It was going to be an interesting partnership.

“Ok, excuse me?” Bella had practically squealed when the door to your bedroom behind you, her and Steph had been shut by Dean, who was now waiting outside to give you some privacy, and thank God those walls were thick enough to hide this conversation. “You didn’t tell us your bodyguard was a Ben Affleck and Brad Pitt combo.”

Steph scoffed, shaking her head. “Girl, no. He’s better than that, he puts Adonis to shame— where’s he been hiding?” They both turned to you expectantly, clearly not aware that your Adonis-transcendent bodyguard was fresh out of the United States Penitentiary, Administrative Maximum Facility. Oh, that’s gonna be a hard pill to swallow, right?

“Prison.” You swallowed, clearing your throat awkwardly upon saying it, cause you weren’t often the bringer of news that a guy like Dean used to be a prolific criminal who kills for money. “ADX Florence. An ex-hitman, to be clear, with over 100 kills in the past two years.”

“So he’s a bad boy.” Bella giggled, clearly not phased, which kind of concerned you with which brain they both were thinking from, and hopefully not the downstairs one. “Even better, oh my god, I was getting worried he’s a goodie.”

Steph raised an eyebrow, her lips curling into a sly grin. “Right? Like, you can’t just drop ‘ex-hitman with over 100 kills’ and not expect us to have questions. Or fantasies.”

“Steph!” you choked, glancing toward the door as if Dean could hear through the thick walls.

“What? I’m just saying!” She crossed her arms, leaning back against the bedpost. “Honestly, though? He’s got that whole ‘dark past but reformed bad boy’ thing going for him. You’re living every romance novel heroine’s dream.”

Bella, not to be outdone, clutched at her chest dramatically. “Forget romance novels—I’d climb him like a tree. That man looks like he could bench press me and not even break a sweat.”

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “Can we not?”

“We absolutely can,” Bella countered, her voice rising with glee. “Seriously, you’ve got the hottest bodyguard in the country, and you didn’t think we needed to know this? Girl, where’s your sense of sisterhood?”

Steph was nodding in agreement. “Yeah, you’re withholding important information. Like, what’s he like in person? Is he all business, or does he have that smoldering, ‘I could kill you, but I won’t’ energy?”

Your cheeks burned, both from their shameless gushing and the mental image Steph’s words conjured. “He’s…fine. Professional.”

“‘Professional,’ she says,” Bella snorted. “Professional at looking fine as hell, maybe.” She leaned in conspiratorially, lowering her voice. “Come on. What’s he like? Does he flirt? Does he give you those ‘I’m secretly in love with you’ stares when you’re not looking?”

You glared at her. “No. Absolutely not. He’s just doing his job.”

“Sure he is,” Steph said with a smirk, clearly not buying it. “But don’t think we didn’t notice the way he looked at you when he shut the door earlier.”

You blinked. “What? He didn’t—”

“Oh, honey,” Bella interrupted, waving her hand dramatically. “He totally did. That man looked at you like you were the last piece of chocolate cake at a birthday party. And don’t even get me started on how he stood. You know, all broody and protective, like some kind of…” She trailed off, searching for the right words.

“Alpha wolf guarding his mate,” Steph supplied helpfully.

“Exactly!” Bella snapped her fingers. “Thank you, Steph. That’s exactly the vibe.”

You groaned again, resisting the urge to bang your head against the nearest wall. “You two need help.”

“What we need,” Steph said, grinning wickedly, “is for you to admit that you’ve at least thought about it. Because if you haven’t, you’re lying.”

“I haven’t!” you protested, a little too quickly.

Bella’s eyes lit up like she’d just won the lottery. “Oh my God, you totally have! Look at you—your ears are turning red.”

“Leave me alone,” you muttered, glaring at the floor.

But they weren’t about to let you off the hook.

“Okay, okay,” Steph said, holding up a hand as if to calm the chaos. “Let’s be serious for a second. He’s obviously gorgeous, and clearly there’s some…tension. But what’s the story? Like, how did you even end up with him as your bodyguard? I feel like there’s a Netflix series waiting to happen here.”

You hesitated, weighing how much to tell them. “It’s…complicated. He was recommended through some very high-level channels. Apparently, he’s the best at what he does.”

“And what he does is kill people,” Bella said, her voice dripping with mock solemnity.

You shot her a look. “Not anymore. He’s reformed. He went through a rigorous vetting process before he was even considered for the position.”

Steph tilted her head, her curiosity piqued. “So, he’s done bad things, but now he’s protecting the President of the United States. That’s a redemption arc if I’ve ever heard one.”

Bella sighed wistfully. “And he’s doing it all while looking like a Calvin Klein model who got lost on his way to the shoot.”

“Can we not turn this into a thirst-fest?” you pleaded, though you knew it was a losing battle.

Bella leaned closer, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “Oh, sweetie. It’s already a thirst-fest. You’re just in denial.”

The conversation spiraled from there, with Bella and Steph taking turns crafting increasingly absurd fantasies about Dean’s hypothetical love life.

“He probably has a tragic backstory,” Bella said dreamily, lying back on the bed. “Like, maybe he lost the love of his life in some tragic accident, and now he’s sworn to protect others to atone for his past.”

“Or,” Steph countered, “he’s secretly a billionaire who does this for the adrenaline rush. Like, by day he’s your bodyguard, but by night he’s funding orphanages and saving puppies.”

Bella clapped her hands. “Yes! And in his free time, he restores classic cars and writes poetry.”

You stared at them, equal parts amused and horrified. “You two have officially lost it.”

“Or,” Steph said, ignoring you entirely, “he’s secretly in love with you, and this whole bodyguard thing is just an excuse to be close to you.”

Bella gasped, sitting up suddenly. “Steph, that’s it! That’s the one!”

You buried your face in your hands. “I regret ever letting you meet him.”

“Don’t be like that,” Bella said, patting your shoulder. “We’re just saying—you’re sitting on a goldmine of romantic potential here. If you don’t at least consider it, we will.”

“Noted,” you said dryly, standing up and heading for the door. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have actual work to do. Unlike you two.”

Bella and Steph exchanged knowing looks as you opened the door to find Dean standing just outside, his arms crossed and his expression unreadable.

He straightened slightly when you stepped into the hallway, his eyes meeting yours. “Everything okay?”

“Fine,” you said quickly, avoiding his gaze as you brushed past him.

But as you walked away, you couldn’t shake the feeling that Steph and Bella might have been onto something.

The drive to Sam’s place was smooth, the kind of easy journey Dean Winchester hadn’t experienced in years. Maybe ever. The hum of the Impala’s engine, a comforting growl beneath him, was as close to peace as Dean could imagine. His day off had finally rolled around, and he hadn’t hesitated to decide how he’d spend it.

Sam had settled in a quiet neighborhood outside Washington, D.C., where tree-lined streets and neat, white-picket fences painted a picture of suburban serenity. It was a far cry from the lives they’d led growing up, but Dean couldn’t deny it suited his little brother.

Pulling up to the house, Dean killed the engine and climbed out, adjusting his leather jacket as he took in the sight. The two-story home was modest but inviting, with a tidy lawn and a swing set in the backyard visible through the side gate. He could hear faint laughter—probably from Dean Jr., Sam and Jess’s kid, who, much to Dean’s delight, was his namesake.

Dean’s boots crunched against the gravel path as he approached the front door. Before he could knock, it swung open, and Sam stood there, looking every bit the family man.

“Dean,” Sam greeted, his face lighting up in a grin. “Right on time.”

“Of course,” Dean said, stepping inside. “I’m punctual now. Didn’t you hear? I’ve got a government job.”

Sam chuckled, clapping Dean on the shoulder as he shut the door behind him. “I’m still getting used to the idea.”

Inside, the house was warm and lived-in. Pictures adorned the walls—Jess and Sam on their wedding day, little Dean Jr. blowing out candles on a birthday cake, snapshots of family trips to the beach. The scent of something delicious wafted from the kitchen, and Dean’s stomach growled in response.

“Jess is cooking?” Dean asked, raising an eyebrow.

“She insists,” Sam replied with a shrug. “Says you need a proper meal after all that ‘White House food.’”

Dean smirked. “Tell her I’m not gonna argue with that.”

Jess appeared moments later, wiping her hands on a kitchen towel. She was glowing, as she always seemed to be, her blonde hair pulled into a loose ponytail and her smile bright enough to light up the room.

“Dean!” she exclaimed, pulling him into a quick hug. “It’s been too long.”

“Too long,” Dean agreed, glancing over her shoulder. “Where’s the rugrat?”

As if on cue, the sound of small feet thudding down the stairs filled the house. Dean Jr. appeared, his face lighting up when he saw his uncle. The kid was a spitting image of Sam, with floppy brown hair and wide hazel eyes, but he had Dean’s mischievous grin.

“Uncle Dean!”

“Dean-o!” Dean crouched, catching the boy as he barreled into him. “What’s up, kiddo? You keeping your old man in line?”

Dean Jr. nodded enthusiastically. “Dad says you work for the President now. Is that true?”

Dean ruffled the boy’s hair. “Sure is. Cool, huh?”

“Super cool,” Dean Jr. said, his eyes wide with awe.

“Alright, enough hero worship,” Sam teased, though his smile betrayed how much he enjoyed seeing his son and brother bond. “Come on, dinner’s almost ready.”

The meal was hearty—roast chicken, mashed potatoes, and vegetables—and filled with easy conversation. Dean filled them in on the basics of his new job, skirting around the grittier details of his past. Sam and Jess shared stories about their life, from Jess’s latest work project to Dean Jr.’s adventures in Little League.

It was only after the dishes were cleared and Jess had taken Dean Jr. upstairs to bed that the conversation turned serious.

The brothers sat in the living room, each nursing a beer. The light from the fireplace cast a warm glow, and the house was quiet except for the occasional creak of the floorboards above.

“So,” Sam began, leaning back on the couch, “you gonna tell me how this happened?”

Dean took a long swig of his beer, then set the bottle down on the coffee table. “What, me working for the President? Thought you already knew.”

“I know the headlines,” Sam said, his brow furrowing. “But what I don’t know is how you went from ADX Florence to the White House.”

Dean sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Figured you’d ask eventually.”

“Of course I’d ask.” Sam’s voice was gentle but firm. “You were in prison, Dean. The kind of prison people don’t just walk out of.”

“Yeah, well.” Dean leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “It started with a newspaper.”

Sam blinked. “A newspaper?”

Dean nodded. “I was in my cell, flipping through this paper someone left behind. Saw an ad for a private security position with the President. They were looking for someone who could think outside the box, someone with…unconventional skills.”

Sam’s eyebrows shot up. “And you thought, ‘Hey, that sounds like me’?”

“Something like that.” Dean’s lips twitched into a faint smirk. “Figured I didn’t have much to lose, so I wrote up a resume. Handed it off to my lawyer, told him to file it.”

Sam stared at him, his disbelief evident. “And they just…hired you?”

“No,” Dean said with a chuckle. “They didn’t even call me at first. Took weeks before I heard anything. When they finally did, they put me through the wringer—interviews, background checks, psych evaluations. The works.”

“And they still hired you?” Sam asked, shaking his head in amazement.

“Guess they figured my track record spoke for itself,” Dean said, his tone turning more serious. “I’ve done things, Sam. Bad things. But I’ve also done what needed to be done when no one else could. They saw that.”

Sam was quiet for a moment, processing his brother’s words. “And now you’re protecting the most powerful person in the world.”

Dean nodded. “Guess you could say I’m making up for lost time.”

Sam studied his brother, his expression thoughtful. “You know, Jess and I were talking about you the other night. About how far you’ve come. We’re proud of you, Dean.”

Dean shifted uncomfortably, not used to hearing such straightforward praise. “Don’t get all mushy on me, Sammy.”

Sam chuckled, shaking his head. “I’m serious. You’ve been through hell and back, and somehow you’re still standing.”

Dean took another sip of his beer, his gaze distant. “Yeah, well. Standing’s about all I’m good at.”

“That’s not true,” Sam said firmly. “You’ve got a purpose now. A second chance. Don’t sell yourself short.”

Dean glanced at his brother, a small, genuine smile tugging at his lips. “Thanks, Sammy.”

Sam returned the smile, then leaned back with a sigh. “So, what’s she like? The President.”

Dean hesitated, caught off guard by the question. “She’s…different.”

“Different how?”

“She’s smart. Sharp as hell. Tough, but not in a fake way. And she actually listens, which is more than I can say for most people in her position.”

Sam raised an eyebrow. “Sounds like you respect her.”

“I do,” Dean admitted.

“And for your type…” Sam smirked, his voice taking on a teasing tone. “She’s pretty hot.”

Dean nearly choked on his beer. “Sam!”

“What?” Sam asked, feigning innocence. “I’m just saying. You’ve got a thing for strong women, and she sounds like she fits the bill.”

Dean shook his head, trying to suppress a laugh. “You’re impossible.”

“Hey, I’m just calling it like I see it,” Sam said with a grin. “Besides, you deserve someone who can keep up with you.”

Dean rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t deny the warmth that spread through him at his brother’s words.

The rest of the evening passed in easy conversation, the kind that only happened between brothers who’d been through it all together. When Dean finally stood to leave, Sam walked him to the door, clapping him on the shoulder as he stepped outside.

“Take care of yourself, Dean,” Sam said, his voice quiet but steady.

“You too, Sammy,” Dean replied, his gaze lingering on his brother’s home—the warmth, the love, the life Sam had built.

As Dean climbed into the Impala and drove away, he couldn’t help but feel a strange sense of hope. Maybe, just maybe, there was a place for him in this world after all.

NEXT UP:

“Dean,” you said, a touch of surprise in your voice. “I thought you were on your break.”

He didn’t reply right away. Instead, his gaze locked with yours, and the air seemed to thicken. There was something different about him—an intensity in his expression, a flicker of something unspoken.

Without a word, he reached up and tugged at his tie, loosening it further before slipping it over his head and tossing it onto one of the chairs.

Your eyebrows shot up. “What are you doing?”

Dean didn’t answer. He shrugged out of his suit jacket next, draping it over the back of a chair with deliberate ease. His movements were slow, calculated, and impossibly confident.

“Dean?” you repeated, your voice catching slightly.

His shirt followed. Button by button, he undid it with maddening patience, his green eyes never leaving yours. Your breath hitched as he peeled it off, revealing the broad, chiseled planes of his chest and the faint scars that crisscrossed his skin—a testament to a dangerous past.

By the time his hands went to his belt, your pulse was racing.

“What are you—” you began, but the words died in your throat as he stepped forward.

In one smooth motion, Dean swept the documents off your desk, scattering them across the floor. He leaned down, his hands bracketing you on either side as he effortlessly lifted you onto the polished wood surface.

TAGLIST: @goldngguk @sweetpeachbombshell @slut-for-stiles @staple-your-mouth @daddyscrimsstuff

@dob-4-life @marcis-mixtapez @nonoreas0n @gabrielasilva1510

@lucyholmes13 @pandadork-blog1 @nicolstancu @malusinhaaaa @dybalabandolero

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@1-800-dean-winchester

@darichvep @idk-usernme @supernaturalmarvel3000 @ega2025 @deanbrainrotwritings

@targaryenluvs @bucky-hydra-hoe-barnes @leigh70 @aintnowayboi @ripoffsteveharrington

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@lyarr24 @ximm19

@a-girl-who-loves-disney @jeneelsworld @deans-spinster-witch @deanspinsterwitchs-readinglist @kayleighwinchester

@cheynovak @bitchykittenconnoisseur @underground-secret @heartiella

@bollzinurmouth

©️ 𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐲𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐤 / 𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐲’𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐝𝐢𝐨

𝐈 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐢𝐞𝐝/𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝

#wayne reads #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #potus au #bodyguard au

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shijiujun · 4 years ago

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Ooooh yeah okay barely a day later and I’m back with a new rec, I just finished this yesterday (if y’all are wondering if I do anything else but read, I have my binge-reading periods not gonna lie, especially when China bookstores REFUSE to give me a break and keep coming up with new shit)

- Part of Min’s ‘Why You Should Read’ Series -

Summary:

Shen Qiao is the elusive sect leader of Xuandu Shan (Mt. Xuandu) who is known for his legendary sword skills, not that many have seen him before. He battles Kun Xie, the powerful leader of another sect one day, and is sent crashing down the mountain where they had their battle at. Against all odds, he lives, but is saved by leading demonic sect leader Yan Wushi, who happened to be passing by.

Yan Wushi is the opposite of Shen Qiao - he does not believe that there are truly good people in the world and any individual, in the face of self-interest or fear, will turn selfish and resentful. To him, there are only two kinds of people in the world - worthy opponents, or scum not even worth looking at. He is arrogant, borders on the side of insanity, and cares for and trusts in no one.

Having heard of Shen Qiao’s personality, Yan Wushi first saves him out of fun and games. Shen Qiao has lost his memory, and Yan Wushi is curious to see how he will deal with hardship and challenges, including the loss of his martial arts skills, the loss of his sight, and faced with a shidi, shixiong and other elders in his sect who may have sabotaged his battle with Kun Xie, leading to his fall. Yan Wushi actively does things that drives Shen Qiao into despair, and one incident almost causes Shen Qiao’s death.

Shen Qiao treats every person he meets very well, even those who returned his kindness with cruelty, and even after being betrayed, the seeds of resentment do not emerge in him. No matter how Yan Wushi betrays him and dismisses his offer of friendship, Shen Qiao was still willing to go find him when he was in danger. In the end, Yan Wushi finally realizes that this is the one person who has exceeded all his expectations, who is truly good because he can be, and falls in love with him.

Cue Yan Wushi having to chase an oblivious Shen Qiao back who no longer believes in a single word Yan Wushi says.

This is a story of two people with entirely different and mutually exclusive world views that somehow come to understand and love each other, while still retain their own views. Yan Wushi thinks that Shen Qiao’s kindness is weakness and that he is gullible, but Shen Qiao is not so much as gullible as he is just willing to give someone else the benefit of the doubt first, and he does learn to look at things with a more critical eye after spending time with Yan Wushi. Is Shen Qiao still kind and gorgeous and everything? Hell yes. Does Yan Wushi still tease him for it? Of course. Similarly, Shen Qiao is unable and also unwilling to change how Yan Wushi approaches things and people, but for Shen Qiao, Yan Wushi is willing to make compromises in action, even if he doesn’t agree with what Shen Qiao thinks.

*Not as angsty as I made it out to be but the subtext is quite amazing - BUT!!!! You get like a lot of vague kissing for most of the novel. Shen Qiao remains firstly oblivious, then secondly goes straight into denial, while Yan Wushi looks on adoringly. The romance starts... for real... from the epilogues onwards HAHAHA I cannot even!!!!

Read:

Novel (Online) | Novel (Print) - Not Available Now | Novel Translations | Upcoming Donghua - 山河剑心 | Audio Drama - S1 & S2

Characters:

1. 沈峤 Shen Qiao (Right) - He's described as one of the most beautiful/handsome men the wuxia world has ever seen, and is his deceased shifu’s second disciple. He was chosen as the successor to the sect leader position of Mt. Xuandu, which has stayed neutral for decades (in a world where sects can ally themselves with emperors/kingdoms etc.). He is poisoned on his fated battle day with Kun Xie by someone he trusted, falls off the mountain and is rescued by Yan Wushi.

For the first part of the novel he’s visually impaired but this helps him to train his hearing. Wanted to be friends with Yan Wushi because he believed they could be, but is betrayed by him shortly after and loses all his power to fight his enemy. Instead of dying, he is saved by his to-be disciple Shi Wu and realizes the secret to cultivating his powers because of that.

He’s kind but not gullible, he gives everyone the benefit of the doubt, but he’s definitely not weak or soft. Despite losing his martial arts and skills twice, he comes back stronger than before. He doesn’t understand if Yan Wushi is toying with him or is being real especially after he loses trust in the man, but their fates are intertwined together (or Yan Wushi is actually that shameless and a stalker lmao).

He faints a lot, throws up blood a lot, is carried by Yan Wushi A LOT.

2. 晏无师 Yan Wushi (Left) - A little insane, a little sadistic, takes joy in seeing someone despair. He’s very good looking, has a streak of white in his hair and ranks second (or first) in terms of martial arts and skills. He also has an official role in the palace and is advisor to the Zhou emperor. Every other demonic and good sect in the world fears him. Is also kind of a hoe.

He told Shen Qiao once that he does not need friends, only worthy opponents, before he surrendered Shen Qiao to an enemy of his. He also plants a demon heart seed into Shen Qiao (so that he can go through demonic cultivation), much to Shen Qiao’s fury and devastation, but Shen Qiao manages to survive that. After he recovers, he hears of plans to get rid of Yan Wushi and goes to save him instead, not because he trusts/thinks of Yan Wushi as a friend at this point but wanting to prove to Yan Wushi that even though he pushed Shen Qiao to the brink of no return, Shen Qiao survived, under his own terms, and stayed true to himself.

Because of that, Yan Wushi does a 180 on Shen Qiao, starts believing in him, starts thinking he’s cute and everything. Starts shamelessly flirting (and getting rejected by Shen Qiao) and finally gets his man when he’s in utmost danger at the end.

Other Things I Like in the Novel:

Shen Qiao is so damn cute?!!! And so skilled?! Like because everyone looked down on him after he failed the battle with Kun Xie not knowing that he was poisoned and sabotaged, and the next moment he flashes his sword out in a fight and they’re all like damnnnnnn

Yan Wushi is hurt severely once and as he recovers, his consciousness is split into four parts, and two of those personalities come out to cling on to Shen Qiao, and Yan Wushi gets jealous of himself

Shen Qiao’s two disciples are super cute!!! And then he picks up another cute boy along the way closer to the end

He faints a lot and throws up blood A LOT if they were doing a live-action for this I’d vote for Zhu Yilong for the role, and he also keeps getting kidnapped?! It’s hilarious

Whenever Yan Wushi tries to be nice to him (feed him, kiss him) Shen Qiao will flush and tell him to please be respectful and then they’ll exchange parries and blows as Yan Wushi DOES NOT GIVE UP on feeding him and Shen Qiao is TRYING TO AVOID THE SPOON

Yan Wushi knows that Shen Qiao has feelings for him in the end but is just too prideful and embarrassed to admit it, and so he pretends to be cold to him and Shen Qiao panics and is confused, then goes and asks random strangers on how to woo a “crazy, stubborn, more skilled” significant other - In the end he initiates his first kiss with Yan Wushi and Yan Wushi forgives him LOL

They go to an inn the first time they sleep with each other and then the help at the inn hears like noise coming from upstairs right, and asks the innkeeper “oh my god are they okay” and innkeeper says “they’re doing things that deities do” ????!!

Yan Wushi likes to squash Shen Qiao’s face when he’s not awake so that his lips form like an unglam pout, then he laughs at it - Ownself amuse ownself

#qian qiu #thousand autumns #千秋 #梦溪石 #danmei recs #meng xi shi #danmei #min's why you should read

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sirthisisa-wendys · 4 years ago

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Hey gurl ❤️ so finally coming through with my request for this wonderful event! I’ve got gangleader!Toji on my brain because I’m a good girl with a taste for them bad boys, so henceforth my request:

Toji x Feamale!reader + cooking + 27,29

Can’t wait to see what spicy content you dish out 😊

OOOOH LAWD HA MERTHY

LAWD

OH LAAAAWWWDDDD

(P.S. I love you, mamas)

Lemonade: Toji Fushiguro x Fem!Reader

wc: 1.4k

tw: NSFW (ten layers of spicy dip coming up)

700 Follower Event Masterlist

You're sitting in the casino, watching over your patrons (or cash cows, you called them) with a careful eye as they mill about, bringing in money for the operating costs and illegal activities you and your gang committed. But all of this is off the books. The only thing someone could catch you for would be the imbalance of two hundred dollars on the books.

And that two hundred dollars went to the shoes you purchased for tonight.

Because just as this was a normal night for the patrons below you, it was a special night for you and your clan members. You'd finally be able to say you met with the head of the Fushiguro clan on your turf, and all without a single fight.

This is something your father, his father, and his father's father couldn't achieve without bloodshed. But you had something they didn't: a massive ring of businesses with their hands in every aspect of the Fushiguro clan. All you needed to do was squeeze a little harder, and the juice would run out of the lemon.

And tonight, you'd stir the pot and make lemonade.

Your target walks through the door an hour later, his black t-shirt clinging to his form like saran wrap. You wonder if he wears anything else as he strides into the casino with a smug smile, eyeing every single woman in the vicinity with a lewd expression. When Toji finally looks up at you, his emerald eyes become hooded, and he raises two fingers and makes an obscene gesture at you.

Keep your cool.

You answer the gesture with a bored blink as if to say: "You wish you could", and walk away from your place on the balcony and to the meeting hall where two men slide the doors open.

"Nah, she can't resist me," you hear Toji call out as he climbs the stairs. "Definitely fuckable." His associates laugh, clutching at their bellies, and Toji turns to you, holding his buff arm out. "Y/n, you look lovely tonight." You clasp his forearm, a typical greeting among the heads of clans.

"You look... normal," you reply. Toji rolls his eyes and pulls his arm away, walking into the meeting room. His associates try to walk into the room behind him, but they're stopped by your bodyguards and pointed to the other side of the balcony.

"Only the clan heads are allowed in here." You close the sliding doors behind you, then feel the presence of the clan leader, who's standing awfully close. Toji's hands ghost over your hips, and you step back, right into his grip.

"Y/n, you know these little dresses drive me insane," Fushiguro breathes against your neck, and you lean into his touch a little more, closing your eyes. "God, I want to fuck a baby into you so bad. Maybe then your family will allow me to take you as my wife."

"Give me twenty-five percent of your profits from the art galleries," you exhale as Toji's mouth trails down your neck. "And sixteen percent of the overhead from your coke ring."

"That's it?" Toji wonders, pulling back. "That's all you want?"

"I mean, I could ask for fifty-five and--"

"No, no, no," Toji laughs, turning you around to face him. "I liked twenty-five and sixteen better." He lifts your legs around his waist and sits you on the marble table.

"Because if you marry me, it'll all be mine one day, anyways." Toji grunts low in his throat, licking a fat stripe up your neck and rolling your dress up around your thighs.

"Mrs. Fushiguro sounds good to me," he replies, sliding your thong down your legs and tangling his tongue with yours while he kisses you deeply. "But first, let me make you Mama Fushiguro."

"So eager," you tease, lying back on the table and pulling the dress over your head. "Why do you want me so bad, Toji?"

"Because out of all the people in the world... you’re the only one who knows who I truly am.” You raise your brow at this, biting your bottom lip. "You know what drives me crazy," Toji continues, kissing down your thighs. "You know what makes me harder than stone..." His rough hands come up to pull off your shoes as he kisses your ankles leisurely. "And you push me to be a better version of myself... for you, of course."

"Not for your men?" you wonder, and the clan head chuckles, discarding his shirt and showing off his vast array of tattoos.

"Fuck, no." Your bra is removed with a swiftness, his fingers finding the clasp quickly and tossing it aside. "Just for you." He kisses each of your breasts, tugging on the nipples carefully. As Toji rolls them between his fingers, he plants a sloppy peck on your cheek, and you clasp your hands around his back. "When you came along, my pockets got fatter."

"Like now?" you laugh.

"Like now." You feel his cockhead poke at your entrance, and you spread your legs a little more, allowing him to stretch you out like only he can. You both exhale softly when he sinks into you, and you secretly hope the loud music outside would muffle any noises coming from your throat. "I swear, you have me wrapped around your little finger."

"Not gambling?" you pant as he sheathes himself inside of you fully. His emerald eyes soften, and his lips part, separating the scar at the edge of them. You touch it, reminding yourself of the day he got it, but Toji pulls back a little, an instinctive thing.

"Why would you ever think gambling really held me like you do?" he wonders, sinking back into you.

"I don't know..."

"I don't either," he blinks, face turning from a frown and into a focused expression. "Nothing comes before you, not even the clan." Toji's hips begin to beat a pleasurable pattern into yours, the huffing and panting between you two the only sounds you can really hear besides the muffled music of the casino.

And as you lay on the cool table, Toji maintains eye contact, lacing his fingers through yours and laying on top of you, rocking your hips a little higher so he can hit your g-spot. You cry out and shift back, but he covers your mouth quickly, holding you even closer as his hand cradles the place right above your hip.

"Don't run from me," he whispers into your ear. "Don't run from the dick." You moan into his palm, clenching your cunt around his thick cock and bucking your hips up a little. "That's it... take it." You shudder at his words, feeling the familiar build of an orgasm.

"Toji," you whisper, eyes widening. "I'm gonna cum."

"Not yet," he groans, sweat rolling down his brow. Your body shakes as he begins to plow into you, rattling the table so bad that the dragon figurines clatter to the ground, making two loud thumps.

Your head immediately turns to the door and it slides open a bit as a bodyguard pokes his head in, not fully registering the sight in front of him as he speaks.

"Boss, are you--"

"Get the fuck out!" Toji snarls, covering you and scowling at the man, who immediately shuts the door. But your orgasm hasn't abated even in the slightest during the incident, and you lean your head back, body rolling under Toji as you cum on his cock, mouth covered again as you moan obscenities. Toji isn't too far behind you, his eyes rolling into the back of his head as his fingers grip your thighs harshly. His hips stutter as he cums inside of you, growling fiercely and then abating when it's all said and done. "Guess our little secret is out," he finally whispers, nose touching yours as you cockwarm him.

"Hmmm..." you hum, trailing your knuckles down his cheek. "Think we should just tell everyone and get it over with?"

"Why not tonight?" he asks, softening inside of you slowly. "It would make sense."

"Yeah. You tell your men I'm getting a larger share of the business, and I'll tell mine."

"Wait," Toji shakes his black hair. "I thought you meant about our relationshi--"

"Not until I'm pregnant, remember?" you answer, and he slides out of you, fisting his semi-erect cock.

"Then I'd better get to it, huh? Flip over, boss lady. I'm not done with you yet."

#toji fushiguro #toji smut #toji x reader #jujutsu kaisen toji #jjk toji #toji imagine #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen

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it-was-all-a-beautiful-dream · 4 years ago

Text

Silva Lining (Saul Silva x reader) Chapter 9 (NSFW)

Warnings: NSFW 18+++++ SMUT SMUT SMUT/ SWEARING AND MORE SMUT.

word count: 2.7k

OOOOh look. Smut. I hope you like it :)

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

The journey in your mind seemed to take forever. It was at this point where you were all alone, that the nerves about what was to come really set in. Before you knew it you were at the large wooden doors, behind them, Sauls room.

“It’s now or never Y/N.” Again with your little pep talks, your subconscious Jiminy Cricket giving you the push you needed. You didn’t know if you should knock or just go in. He was expecting you after all. You decided on the later and tried the door handle. Unlocked. That gave you your answer as you took a tentative step inside the room you’d only been in a handful of times.

Everything about the room screamed Saul. It was his little man-cave, a place where he could chill after all the hard work he did every day. A large flat screen was mounted on the wall in front of his bed. His bed, sleek, large and modern. The sheets so flat and well made that you cold bounce a penny off them. Under the tv was a long wooden cabinet, hidden away in the cubby holes, a PS4, some cd’s and an array of different movies. You’d talked Saul in to watching some of your faves a while back, so he’d finally understand some of your references. You scanned the room. Not a thing out of place. The room was twice the size of your dorm, he had the whole floor of this wing to himself. Your favourite part about his practical penthouse, was the view. Off to the side, a wide balcony that overlooked all of Alfea, high enough that you could see way into the distance, the forrest, the lands, even the shimmer of the protective border. You could hear that Saul was in the shower, so you had a look around. You’d only been in his room a couple times, never venturing further than the ground floor living room, scared that one thing might lead to another and you wouldn’t be able to control yourselves.

His bedroom was behind a wall of glass on the upper floor which you could see from where you stood. You weren’t joking when you said it was huge! It was to be expected. Saul practically lived at Alfea, even when there weren’t students kicking about. Off to the side of his bedroom you noticed a heavy metal door, no doubt his miniature armoury he had once told you about. You walked over to the kitchen, searching for a drink that would help keep your buzz alive. He’d asked you before tonight what you wanted him to stock, your choice was wine, Rosé, white Zinfandel. He had several bottles, all different brands. Your heart skipped a beat. It was the little things like this that made you know how much he actually cared. You selected the one you wanted and reached into the high cabinet for a wine glass and poured some, sipping a little nervously, waiting for your man. Over to the side you noticed an old record player, beside that, a shelving unit filled with more records you’d ever seen. You picked something to set the mood, it would also alert him that you were here, but with his training, you were sure he already knew.

You heard the light padding of footsteps and watched as Saul rounded the corner, shorts hung low on his hips, his torso completely bare, his abs and chest glistening under the lights, still slightly wet from his shower, his hair damp and messy. He’d never looked so good in that moment. You willed your brain to take a snapshot which would forever be saved for your wankbank. You didn’t know if it was because of the alcohol but god… your were hornier than a dog in heat. You crossed your legs which didn’t go un-noticed by Saul who smirked. The audacity. You rolled your eyes.

“Miss Y/L/N, what a pleasant surprise, I thought i’d eventually have to come down there and drag you away in front of everyone.” He walked up to you slowly, one of his strong arms wrapping around you, his hand splayed on your back, bringing your body flush against his. You gulped.

“Well, i’m here now aren’t I Mr Silva? Impatient are we?” You smiled up at him putting your free hand behind his head, weaving your fingers in his damp hair, pulling his face towards yours so you could kiss his soft lips. You groaned at the feeling, also at the feeling of Sauls hard cock growing against your stomach. That was the thing between you, it took you both two seconds within each others presence to be completely ready for each other. You were wetter than you’d ever been before, your lacy one piece under your dress sporting a soaked crotch right about now.

“Happy birthday princess.” Saul spoke between the kiss, Your body still grinding up against him, brushing against his cock every now and again. “As much as I love this baby, I want to give you your presents.” He kissed you once more on the lips and adjusted his boner. Your cheeks were flushed and you wanted to strip yourself free of your dress. Saul wandered over to a draw near the tv, producing two small boxes neatly wrapped in shades of black and gold paper. He took you by the hand and sat with you on the leather sofa in the centre of the room.

“Open this one first.” He handed you the box that was slightly bigger than the other. You unwrapped it and inside was another box. Inside that was a thin silver necklace, hanging from it, dog tags crafted from silver and embellished with diamonds, an exact replica of Sauls dog tags that he would have received in his training, just a bit more fancy. You instantly loved it, turning so he could put it on for you but he stopped you and handed you the other present first. You raised your eyebrows. Inside the paper was a smaller box, shaped like a geode, however inside this one, a ring sat atop crystals in the rock. It was the most beautiful thing you’d ever seen.

“Now, I know this might seem early, don’t panic. It’s not an engagement ring.. yet. I want to marry you, I know there will never be anyone else for me. You’re all I want and will ever want until my last dying breath Y/N, this is a promise ring. It means that I promise, I will be with you forever, I will love you until the end of time and I promise to always protect you. I promise i’ll be your partner, your future and your best friend.” Your eyes were full of unshed tears and for the first time you noticed Saul’s hands shaking. He was nervous? He took the ring from you and placed it on the necklace with the dog tags making it complete as he fastened the clasp on your neck.

Shock was the initial emotion you felt. Shock that someone loved you as much as Saul did after never having experienced love from anyone. Then love, heaps and waves of unconditional love for the man that sat in front of you. You didn’t know how to thank him. You just reacted. Raising yourself up from the sofa, you keeled on either side of Silva’s thighs, straddling him, pressing down so your mound was pressed again the bulge in his shorts. You started to grind a little earning a moan from Saul who had thrown his head back.

“I love you Saul Silva, I love you so so much, I want you. I want you to make me yours fully.” You went harder, the friction from his cock driving you insane. You squealed when you were lifted into thin air, Saul throwing you over his shoulder cave man style. His hand came up to rest on your ass under your dress, needing the skin. He made his way up the stairs and to his bedroom. You gulped, butterflies erupting in your stomach as one of his calloused fingers ran over your damp slit covered by the lace suit under your dress. Now you wished you’d just gone commando.

He let you go and you landed on his bed with a bounce. He was on you in seconds, his mouth trailing all the way from the inside of your leg up to your throat and to your mouth. He’d positioned himself so his hips were able to grind right against your core and you couldn’t help but moan into his hot mouth. Sauls fingers toyed with the hem of your dress that had ridden up your thighs, you lifted your body so he could grab it and pull it off over your head. He sat back on his haunches and whistled. You blushed and winked at Saul as his eyes looked over your body.

“Is this the secret item you bought when we went shopping? I have to say, I love it.” His large hands ran over your lace body suit, nipples strained against it, visible to Saul through the thing mesh lace material.

“All for you Mr Silva.” You smiled at him as his lust filled eyes lingered on your breasts. Your fingers toying with the band of his shorts. He looked up at you, an expression on his face like ‘are you sure?’ You pulled them down and gasped, not realising he was going commando. His cock sprung free and your breath halted. Jesus wept. That was not a normal size. How the hell was he going to fit? Looking up again you saw Saul with his signature smirk.

“Like what you see baby girl?” His mouth came down on your neck, sucking and bitting slightly making your pussy clench with want and need. You’d never been this intimate with anyone before? Never even kissed someone until you met Saul. Now your man was here as naked as the day he was born. The alcohol still running through you was something you were grateful for, giving you a little more confidence. You reached down and took Saul’s hard cock in your small hand, he groaned as you ran you fingers up and down his shaft, feeling the bumpy veins and smooth skin, pre-cum leaking from the purple swollen tip. You licked your lips, a fire burning in your belly. You crawled forward on the bed, swaying your hips in the air, stopping with your face in front of Saul’s member. Before he could ask what you were doing he was in your mouth. Just because you were a virgin didn’t mean you didn’t watch porn, it had taught you a thing or two. Licking the tip, you collected the sweet and salty pre-cum and hummed happily. You wanted more, your tongue bottoming out on the underside of his cock, you took him as far down as you could, feeling the tip touch your tonsils. You gagged a little and came up for air.

“You’re fucking amazing.” Sauls head was thrown back in ecstasy, his heart swelled with pride and pleasure, looking down at the woman kneeled in front of him. “Let’s get this off you shall we.” His finger snapped the bra strap and you grinned eagerly. You helped him push the straps down either side of your arms and stood up on the bed, shimmying out of the delicate one piece. You blushed, your arms coming to cover your exposed body, suddenly nervous about what he was seeing. His face hardened.

“You better not be hiding from me darling. You don’t have to hide from me. I love every part of you.” He slowly moved your arms away, drinking in the sight before him. “Beautiful.” He kissed your stomach. “Perfect” He kissed your hip. “Sexy” He kissed one breast and then the other, your eyes fluttering closed as his expert tongue coiled around the sensitive nubs. You knelt up, pressing your bare chest against his, noticing how well your bodies fit together. You felt his member pulsing against your belly button. You needed him inside you.

Laying back on the bed, you beckoned Saul forward with a finger, a come hither motion. He obeyed and took your thighs in his hands, pulling your legs apart, exposing your most personal and sensitive area. You were soaked, no doubt your juices visible for him to see. Saul licked his lips. He looked up at you asking for permission, you nodded your head. Within seconds his face was between your legs, you felt his nose brush against your sensitive nub and then his tongue was licking between your folds. Your eyes rolled and your body arched up seeking more. Your hand in his hair, tugging slightly as his pace began to quicken. There was something hot about the way you could hear your pussy squelching around his lips. He looked up smirking again. Always smirking, cheeky devil. His mouth glistening with your juices. You giggled.

“I can’t believe I ever got so lucky Saul.” His head dove back down, licking and sucking, making your nerves tingle, your stomach erupted in butterflies and you could feel you were getting close, Sauls hand splayed on your stomach, pushing you down into the mattress as he ate you relentlessly. You hardly had time to cry out as you came around his tongue, screaming out his name as he kept going helping you ride out your earth shattering orgasm.

Catching your breath, your legs still shaking around Sauls head, you wondered if this is how it would always feel. Would he always make you feel this way, would he always want you, would you be enough? For the first time in your life you told yourself yes. You were enough.

“Are you ready to go all the way darling? If you’re not ready that’s absolutely fine, I can wait.” Saul rubbed his hands down your legs soothingly, still looking you over with heavy lust filled eyes. God you loved him.

“I’m ready Saul, I’ve never been more ready.” With that he rolled on the condom and lined himself up. The engorged tip of his cock sitting at your entrance. You were tingling again, waiting patiently for what was to come. Suddenly nervous, you linked your fingers with Sauls for reassurance.

“It’s okay baby, it will only hurt for a minute, i’ll be as slow and gentle as I can until you say you’re ready.” His dipped down, placing a soft kiss on your lips and moved his hips forward, his hand in between the both of you, guiding his member into your slick opening. You cried out into Sauls mouth. The pressure built as his hard flesh tore its way inside you. It burned slightly, but you knew it was just your walls getting accustomed to the sheer size of your man. You squeezed your eyes tight, Saul still planting kisses all over you as he finally bottomed out.

“Oh Y/N, you’re so tight.” His head buried in the crook of your neck and he stayed still, letting you adjust to him.

“I think you can move now, but slowly.” You gripped Sauls forearms as he started to adjust his weight on top of you, pulling back, pushing in, pulling back, pushing in. He gyrated his hips, your eyes widened, god that felt good. The pain was slowly subsiding and you started to feel pure pleasure. Before long he was pounding you relentlessly, both of you had waited so long for this moment and now you were fully connected. You were one. If the static connection you had before was something, then what you felt now was EVERYTHING.

“Faster Saul, i-i-‘m close.” You nails racked down his back, no doubt leaving bloody scratch marks, it seemed to fuel his fire as he pounded into you at a rapid speed. He leant down capturing your nipple in his mouth, sucking and circling it with his tongue.

“Cum for me baby, cum on my cock. Let’s cum together.” You could feel his movements getting slower, sweat glistened on his forehead and you felt the build in your stomach. You closed your eyes tight, shuddering.

“I-im gonna..” With two more strokes both you and Saul were crying out. You felt some warmth as Saul’s cum filled the condom inside you, your pussy squeezed around his shaft milking it for everything. Your legs shook as Saul collapsed on top of your slick body. Both breathing rapidly and holding onto each other like your lives depended on it.

“Well that was one hell of a birthday present.”

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Well. THERE. WE. GO. I really hope you liked this chapter lol. If you did or have any comments, please comment below, like, share, follow <3

CHAPTER 10 ------ CLICK HERE

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cherripeach · 4 years ago

Text

Chapter 12

Little Match Maker

Summary: Your life motto is “I have the power of god and anime on my side, don’t mess with me,” and you stand by that with your life. No human, magician, or random creature could ever stop your firm belief in it.

However, getting transported to this world that seemed to turn your already bad luck worse was not what you wanted to be in your life story, but you made the most of it. Making friends, enemies, and disasters, you were in your prime in this world, and so you decided to help as many people as you could flourish, at least what you believed to be.

Chapter 1:9 Fre sha vaca do

Lunch Time Group Chat!

Warnings: Curse words,

Words: 2.5k

Relationships: developing but future twstxreader

The glare from the upperclassman Prefect standing behind Ace onto Ace could slowly disintegrate you, which is why you are very appreciative it was not directed at you.

Cater flashed some finger guns and greeted the new face, “Hey there, Riddle! You look super cute today, too!” He even added a wink for effect.

Riddle, the new face at your table, scoffed and turned his head to face Cater only to tighten his lips, then, relax them into a sickly smile, “Keep talking like that, Cater, and it will be off with your head, too.”

Cater held up his hands, “Come on now, please go easy on me.”

Grim whispered to you, “This is the guy who put that weird collar on me during the Opening Ceremony!”

“Looks like it,” was your only response, but you were more concerned with how someone so small could have so much anger. Closer to hell is what you always believed.

Riddle moved his sight onto you and Grim before starting his lecture, “You two are the ones who caused a ruckus yesterday, aren’t you?” He pointed his finger at Grim, “Would you refrain from referring to someone’s unique magic as ‘a weird collar’? Good grief, the Headmaster is too soft. Letting someone off the hook for not following the rules once will break the foundation. All those who don’t follow the rules should just say goodbye to their heads.” He shook his head at the end, but he seemed to talk in a continuous sigh as if everything was bothering him.

You mimicked his sickly smile he demonstrated before and started, “I’m sorry, but please concern yourself with your dorm members and their activities before you come at me.” You closed your eyes and smiled tight for dramatic effect at the end.

Riddle’s mouth flew open as he began to mumble, “Wha..what ever could you mean?”

Ace and Deuce were in a silent conversation below the new Prefect while his eyes were still wide on you.

“I just thought that bullying and threatening to use magic on campus would be against the rules,” You shrugged your shoulders while frowning.

A little, ‘Hmph’, came out of Riddle before he decided, “I’ll deal with your issue later, but know that the Headmaster may have forgiven you, but the next time you break the rules, I won’t let you off so easily.”

You lightly rolled your eyes and drank some of your drink because you knew that this boy would take a while for him to calm down about your past mishaps.

“Um…” Ace butted into your conversation and your glare off with a question, “By the way, Prefect… Is it possible for you to remove this collar?” His hand directed itself to point at the thing around his neck.

Riddle nodded his head and answered, “I was thinking of removing it once you’ve repented, but judging from what you said a while ago, it seems like you’ve yet to do so. I’ll have you walk around like that for a while longer.You don’t have to worry.” He shook his head with the brightest smile on his face, “The 1st years’ lessons are focused more on classroom learning rather than magic training. If you can’t use magic, then something like yesterday’s ruckus should be impossible. It’s perfect, isn’t it? Now, if you’re done eating, hurry and go to your next class. Rule #271 of the Queen of Hearts: ‘You must not spend more than 15 minutes sitting at the table after you’ve eaten.’You know what happens when you break the rules, don’t you?” His smile disappeared after that, which brought you much more comfort than it should have.

Ace sighed in response and muttered, “Another weird rule..”

Riddle voiced out, “Answer me with ‘Yes, Prefect!’”

Ace and Deuce both replied, “Yes, Prefect!”

Riddle nodded and ended with, “Good.”

Trey, the savior of you all, cut into the conversation, “Now, now. I’ll see them off, don’t worry.” His normal smile was far stretched too wide for your liking.

Riddle scoffed for the fiftieth time you have been in the same conversation as him, “You’re the Vice Prefect, so you better do your job properly. As stated by the Queen of Hearts’ Rule #339, ‘After-meal lemon tea should have nothing more or less than 2 sugar cubes in it.’ In order to protect that rule, I shall need to buy more sugar cubes at the school store. I’ll be taking my leave now.” The Prefect was then found muttering to himself and walking away.

“Wait, man!” You tried to get his attention and even stood up, but the small dude was already on his way, too concerned about whatever he was mumbling about.

Cater shivered, “Man, that was scary…” Cater turned to you once you sat down, winked, and whistled, “But since I was here, I protected the sweet, little, new prefect from getting hurt.”

You rolled your eyes and thanked in a bland tone with a smile, “You are so amazing, Cat! I can almost see how respected you are.”

Grim pulled on your coat to get your attention, “He’s really lookin’ like a bad guy now, yanno? That Prefect.”

“Hey, that’s very rude!” Deuce seemed to disagree, but considering that he was shaking five seconds ago, you would disagree with him.

“As much as I would like to say, he isn’t a bad guy. He’s really disproving my point,” You claimed.

Two students with red bands passed by your table muttering something about a rule, you assumed one of Riddle’s, and how there needs to be a bit more freedom. That was all you could take from it.

Trey and Cater went silent at that and just stared into space.

Trey sighed before addressing, “The Dorm Head managed to become the head one week after getting into the school. He’s a little bit sharp-tongued, but he’s only got the dorm’s best intentions in mind, so he’s not really a bad guy…”

Grim shook his head, “People who think like that don’t just put collars on others.”

Cater and Trey both laughed before exhaling at the same time. Neither one of them had a smile on their face.

You brought up something that has been bothering you, “You are right, Grim. However, my main problem is that the tiny Prefect is creating a space of fear and not safety for these boys at this school. Safety and acceptance should always come first. Fear only destroys.” You place a hand on your chin, “That magic spell thing doesn’t seem to help either.”

Cater tilted his head at your, “Hm? You mean Riddle’s unique magic?”

“Unique… “ Deuce voiced, “Meaning, it’s only exclusive to the Prefect?”

Trey explained, “Putting aside all the other magic in the world, magic that can only be used by one person is called ‘unique magic’. I think you’ll learn about it in detail if you pay attention in class.”

You joined in, “Very unique!”

Deuce and Ace only groaned at your joke.

Cater furthered Trey’s explanation, “Riddle’s unique magic is being able to seal off another person’s magic for a given time.It’s called…

Off with your head!” The Queen of Hearts flashed in your mind while Cater made a cutting motion across his neck.

Grim shrieked, “Even the name’s scary!” And clutched your cloak in his paws.

Cater agreed, “It is, especially, since magicians having their magic sealed off is similar to having your head chopped off. That's why, as long as you’re in this dorm, it’s better not to go against Riddle.” He smiled warily at everyone.

You clicked your teeth with your tongue.

Trey disputed, “Conversely, as long as you follow the rules, he can be pretty gentle.”

“Oh yeah,” Ace blew on his bangs, “Am I gonna be chased out again if I don’t come back with a tart…?” He smiled showing his teeth, but his eyes were narrow along with his eyebrows being stuck close together.

Cater frowned, “Pretty much, That’s what Rule #53 says, after all. Oh, and since Riddle was looking forward to getting the first slice of that whole cake, he probably won’t forgive you if you don’t bring the same thing,” He ruffled his own hair and apologized, “Sorry about that.”

Ace huffed, “You said you want to get along, but you won’t let me off that easily, huh?!”

“This and that are different,” Cater objected with a sway of his hands.

Deuce pointed out, “Still, isn’t a whole tart a little bit expensive?”

Ace groaned and smacked the table with his head, “I don’t have that much money though…” He even lifted his head to gaze at you with puppy eyes.

You gave him a look of disgust back.

Cater suggested, “Then why not make some?Those tarts were all made by,” He paused for dramatic effect and pointed both his hands to the green haired upperclassman, “Trey here, y’know?”

“Ooooh,” You just had to comment, “Cute and can cook. Def husband material.” You giggled at the end of your comment. You were insanely jealous of whoever married him.

Trey flushed a little at your statement and stammered out, “Well, not.. not really…” He began playing with his glasses after; he even took them off to clean them.

Ace gasped out, “You made all that Trey-senpai?! Amazing! It’s better than what they sell here!” He stood up and motioned to the room around him, pulling a couple of eyes to the table the group was at.

Trey, glasses back on, admitted with a cough, “Thanks. I think I have most of the tools and ingredients here… But I won’t simply offer you my services.” His smile returned as his eyebrows rose up.

Ace broke out again, “Eh?! You’re gonna ask us to pay you!?” He, finally, decided to sit back down because now even more eyes were on him.

Trey chuckled and shook his head, “There’s no way I can extort money from a junior, you know? The next tart that Riddle wants to eat requires a lot of chestnuts. Would you mind gathering some for me?”

Ace pouted, “It’s troublesome either way…! So, how much do you need?”

“It’s going to be used for the Unbirthday Party,” Trey stopped to think, “So about two to three hundred will do.” He put up three fingers on his hand.

Grim and deuce spurted out and jumped up, “That much!?”

You tilted your head in thought, “But aren’t they real tiny, so I guess it makes some sense…”You squeezed your thumb and index finger together.

Trey answered, “I’ll have you help me with roasting them and peeling them.” As if any of you knew how to do that.

Grim whined at you, “Can I go back home? Pleaseeeeee.”

Deuce joined in Grim’s whines directed at you, “Me too.”

You blurted out, “No.”

Ace accused the two, “You traitors!”

“If anything, I can help out,” You volunteered like the amazing person you are, not because it kinda sounded like free food. Not at all, “I don’t know what to do tho, sorry. But besides, it's not like I have much to do or look forward to from that dorm.”

Cater clapped his hands in glee, “Making them together and then eating them together will make it more delicious!” He closed his eyes and smiled wide, “It’s that making memories that count. It might even help you start a cooking blog for all we know.”

Trey put a finger up to his lip, “Keep this a secret from the Prefect, but freshly made marron tart is the best. The only ones who can eat it as soon as it gets out of the oven are the ones who made it, you know?”

Grim on the same page as you knew this was free food, “Hey, you boys! Get your rear in gear! We’re gonna go pick some chestnuts ‘til we drop!” Food was the prime motivator for your dorm.

You smirked at the cat, “Matching vibes, are we?” Turning to your green haired upperclassman, you questioned, “Where would we find these anyway?”

Trey informed the group, “There are a lot of chestnut trees right by the forest behind the school’s botanical garden.”

Ace gave Trey a thumbs up before turning back to you, Deuce, and Grim, “Alright! Then, let’s gather in front of the greenhouse after school.”

“Go, go! We’re goin’ chestnut picking!” Grim cheered from the table.

“Wait, does anyone know where the garden even is?” You asked.

All three of them watched you correcting you, “Shouldn’t you know, Supervisor?”

Frustrated beyond belief at these three you smacked each one on the head and told them to, “Screw off, and never beg for anything from me again!”

Lunch ended peacefully with shoves from both Deuce and Ace, and Grim making your hair even more like a yarn ball the cat would love.

The rest of the day passed by quickly.

In your first class after lunch, which was astrology where two homerooms were combined for it, you blanked out half the lesson and almost fell asleep, but you can really remember seeing and speaking to the feminine boy from the purple house. He dropped his pencil on the ground, and when you tried to give him his pencil that fell off his desk, he snatched it from your hand and rolled his eyes at you.

You replied to him, “Okay, who shit in your cornflakes today?”

The boy turned back to you scoffed and cringed, “I’m sure it was from just seeing your face.”

You just turned away and slapped your head with the textbook, which was not the best idea as it created a noise that alerted the professor who then stared at you with confusion on his face and because the textbook hurts.

The feminine boy let out a giggle while you were being lectured by the professor, and you were gonna hold that accomplishment high.

Your last class of the day which was just an introduction of the school and its history had you stuck next to the tall green haired male from P.E. from another class. He never introduced himself, but whenever he would ask questions he would shoot his hand straight up and practically yell in your ear as if the professor was deaf.

You basically lost your hearing in your right ear that day. The ear will always live with great achievements.

He also scolded you whenever you said, “Complete bullshit.” to Ace.

Something about how such language should never come out of anyone who goes to the same school as his ‘young master’ does. Now that was ‘complete bullshit.’

The three of your friends laughed at you the rest of the class for having someone your age scold you like a mother would.

Classes finally ended, and the three of you made your way to the Hearts dorm to drop your bags off.

You were just happy to receive some food for free.

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Life has been a disaster! I’m not dead tho.

#twister wonderland #twst #twst x reader #twst x you #twisted wonderland x reader #twst grim #ace trappola #deuce spade #trey clover #cater diamond #twisted wonderland riddle

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corgoship · 3 years ago

Note

26, 31, 37 and 40 for the ask game

Thank youuu!! Thoughts freshly out of the oven because I just finished watching the last episode (so far) yesterday~

[gifs aren't mine]

26. Fav non romantic relationship in the show

Ooooh this is a tough one. I have to say I really enjoyed Mike and Nacho...

From the beginning, where Mike saved him from a wrong decision and helped him execute his plan, almost being a mentor to him, to the way Mike stood up for Nacho in front of Gus... He really cared about him, seeing how badly he wanted to get away from that life, but the way it ended for him, a tragedy... Mike's reaction was really sad. And I do think later on Jesse reminded him of Nacho in more than a few ways (same) and luckily this time around it worked out.

Other ones I really liked were: Mike and Kaylee, Howard and Chuck, Jimmy and Chuck (the angst), Nacho and his dad, Nacho and Lalo (you said non romantic though duh). Oh and Jimmy and Marco was fun too.

31. Favorite character

Normie tumblr girl moment but KIMBERLY WEXLER!!!

I love Kim so much! I don't talk about her enough but she's so aehfiehfkdj like. She is Jimmy's partner (in crime) but he never steamrolls over her because she knows when to tell him off ("Jimmy, you are always down") and it's almost like she's his moral center in the beginning of the show... but then begins her gradual moral decay when they take the piss out of Ken Wins... and in the end here she's the one orchestrating Howard's downfall? Getting off on it too? Insanity. I'm so scared for her. She's also super smart and competent and brave! When she stood up to Lalo my jaw dropped! She was ready to go look for Jimmy out in the desert all on her own! And the fact that she takes on pro bono cases and helps the little guy. So many feelings about Kimmy i'm all bubbly just thinking about her... may she never girlboss too close to the sun. Also she's hot so there's that.

Other honorable mentions: I really like Jimmy too, Nacho makes me sad, Lalo makes me wanna bite through a neck, and I really started to like Howie lately (clown moment).

It's kinda interesting to me how Gus doesn't shine that much in BCS, he's one of my favs in BrBa. Mike got a lot of attention in BCS and that's awesome (esp. like him with Kaylee).

37. Best montage

Another normie moment but Something Stupid lives in my head rent-free. I got the song stuck in my head and I've been listening to it a lot lately (it's so damn catchy and soothing!).

As for the montage itself. god. Love the way it's shot - the split screen, the barrier that's between Jimmy and Kim, their different lines of work, their daily routines... and yet they love each other. without ever saying the words. It reminds me of their wedding too, how it's all practical on the surface, but I bet it makes them both very happy (it makes me very happy too).

40. Best song they used in the show

Something Stupid is up there but I have to go with The Winner Takes It All because I love ABBA and the scene itself breaks my heart!

It's my favourite flashback, I think. I didn't expect Chuck to show up again and the way this scene plays to both his and Jimmy's characters and their relationship is so visceral. There's so much to unpack there but here's the highlights:

-how jimmy is the "party animal" and how reserved chuck is

-we know jimmy can sing or at least that he's got some musical hearing so i highly doubt he wouldn't sing that bad on purpose. i think he just wanted chuck to get up there and have a good time

-chuck doesn't want it at first but he gets into it probably because he's being baited by jimmy's horrible singing and he slays

-they have some very sweet moments there together and then jimmy steps back, mission accomplished, and it's just,, just,,,

-the aftermath when we see chuck taking care of jimmy once... he's capable of that... and we are left to wonder why did it have to go so horriblg wrong..... pain.

-also kim in the flashback is so cute that is all

#better call saul #bcs #ask game #THANK YOU FOR ASKING #kim wexler #asks #lachotakesitall #long post #bcs spoilers #better call saul spoilers

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joyfulsongbird · 4 years ago

Text

sooooo. I wrote a Thing. all credit to @defilerwyrm for the concept of the mighty nein getting consecuted based on their connection to the beacon and credit to @mightymightynein for coming up with the idea that because molly died in proximity to the beacon, he would then come back in another body. none of these ideas are mine, I just couldn't resist writing out a little thing!! thank you both for your great ideas <3

ao3 link!!

Mollymauk Tealeaf wakes.

Not quickly, not all at once, but he wakes nonetheless. It does not feel like coming to, nor is it really the idea we all have of snapping awake one day and coming to the realization that you are not where you belong. He is born again, and born with the name Enna. He is a purple skinned drow, which pleases him that even in the next life he still has a lavender hue to his skin. He looks at himself in the mirror, once he comes to the realization. He looks at his features and tries to rearrange them into something he knew years ago, he imagines this face with horns, these brown eyes with red ones. It is strange, to look at what he knows is himself and it feels correct but at the same time, like something is missing. He grows used to the idea: his name is Mollymauk, he was a member of the Mighty Nein, he died and now he lives again. He does not know why but it takes time in order for him to fully come back to himself.

One night, after he is able to differentiate which memories are from his present life and which ones are from the last, he disappears. He had not been very attached to the family in this present life, they were distant as many parents were and even before his realization, he looked forward to the day he got to spread his wings and leave the nest. This just… pushes things forward a bit. He wraps an enchanted cloak around himself that would protect him from the sun (one that he had stolen months ago, old habits die hard), as that is something he has to worry about now, and sets off into the first adventure of his second life.

He walks and sorts through the memories in his head. Remembers their faces, their voices, the things they did, the way it sounded when they all laughed. On his travels, he purchases a deck of tarot cards. They are not his cards, not as elegant or artistic as the ones he used to own, but they feel good in his hands. His fingers slowly remember how to shuffle the deck, how to flip them between his fingers, and make them disappear, then reappear as if he had snatched them from behind somebody’s ear. He remembers, and it feels wonderful to be able to be a whole person.

His travels are long, he is only going on foot, and he only has so much money. To earn some coin, he gives tarot readings in bars and on the street just like he used to. People goggle at him, differently than they used to. Drows are not all that common, he finds, and it is especially not all that common to find a teenaged drow sitting in a bar with a grin on his face, telling an old man his future with as much confidence as somebody triple his age. As is his nature, people are drawn to him. He had forgotten the electric feeling that buzzes through his whole body when he is surrounded by life like this. It’s a wonderful thing, to feel alive even when you have died twice. And since he has experienced being lifeless twice before (only one of which he can remember his last breath leaving his body), he wants to experience it all again. Nothing wrong with that.

Months go by and he finds himself in Port Damali. He does not know where he is going nor does he have a destination but hopes that someday, fate will shove him near the Mighty Nein again by chance and he will be able to brush sleeves with them in this life too. He sits in a tavern, like he does every day, and tells a young woman that someday her spine will stop aching and that she needs to work less and that she’ll have at least three children. She grins at him and he grins back, already scooping up the three cards she had picked out and is waving his hand absently for somebody new to sit down.

“Do you read tarot cards ‘cause I really, really love tarot cards and I can read them too, you know? You read mine and then I’ll read yours, okay?” it takes him a moment, as he looks at the tiefling sitting across from him. She’s older now, wiser around her eyes but still just as bright in her smile. She’s dressed for the area, in what one could only ever describe as classic pirate garb. Molly smiles at her, his chest aching. It almost pains him to see her again, in this way where she does not recognize him. She leans forward eagerly, legs kicking back and forth under the table. She hasn’t changed.

He clears his throat, not prepared to let his thoughts get the better of him. “Of course! Here, pick whichever cards call to you. Three of them, if you please.”

She happily chooses three, placing them face down on the table all nice and even. Before he can turn them over, she leans in very close. She narrows her eyes at him, “do you know my name?” He laughs, loud and clear. “Let’s see if the cards tell us that, hm?”

Satisfied, she leans away, watching as he flips over the first card. He considers the card for a long time, and Jester watches, enraptured. “You’re a kind soul, aren’t you?”

She nods vigorously. Molly taps his chin in faux thoughtfulness. “You love to draw, am I correct?”

She gasps, “how did you know that? I do!”

“The cards told me.” he says, as means of an explanation. He flips over the next card without further analysis. “Ooooh, interesting. You should not let doubt plague you, you’re far too important to those around you to let those skills go to waste. Don’t hold back, let your chaos run free, my dear.” “That’s what I always say!” her voice rises in excitement and they get several odd glances from surrounding patrons. “You’re so good at this, oh my god!”

He simply smiles, before flipping over the final card. He forces a frown and Jester leans forward again, glancing rapidly from his face and back down to the card. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

“You’ve lost things,” he says. “But don’t worry, you will find that not all is lost forever. Jester.” She jumps to her feet, her face alight with joy. Joy. He grins. He had been right, then, when he had named her card that.

She runs a small ways over to another table and grabs somebody's arm, dragging a familiar half-orc all the way back to Molly’s table, her words nearly incoherent out of excitement.

“Fjord, look, look! Tell him what you said, tell him what you saw in the cards- I told you, Fjord! It was the coolest thing, he knew my name, he knew it! I swear, look! Look at the cards!” she bounces up and down, her words strewn together as she points at the three cards laid out. Fjord looks down at them, then glances up at Molly who shrugs as he gathers up his deck and slips them back into his bag, finished for the night.

“I don’t know what they mean.” he says helplessly. Jester rolls her eyes, grabbing Fjord’s hand and then grabbing Molly’s.

“I want you to teach me! I’ve been practicing for-ever and I can’t get that good.” She grabs him and Fjord back to the corner table that Fjord had been sitting at by himself. She forces them both to sit.

“Jester,” Fjord says before she can get comfortable. “Could you grab me a drink from the bar?”

“Okay!” she doesn’t seem to question why, just bounces over to the bar and leaves the two of them in silence.

“How did you know her name?” Fjord asks gruffly. “I know it’s not because of the cards. Are you a spy of some kind? Seem a little young to be a spy.”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

“Try me.” It takes him a long stretch of quiet before he can even come up with the words. It hasn’t quite felt real up until this moment, up until he was faced with the ghosts of his past who aren’t actually ghosts. They are very much alive, only aged and more weathered than he knew them last. As he explains, as briefly as humanly possible, he watches Fjord’s eyebrows raise higher and higher. His eyes grow wide and fists clench on top of the table. Mollymauk knows it sounds insane, it doesn’t sound real, by anybody’s standards. There’s an uncomfortable pause after he’s done speaking when neither Fjord nor him know what to say. They are interrupted (maybe “saved” would be the correct word) by Jester returning with Fjord’s drink.

“Why so quiet guys?” she asks.

Fjord opens and closes his mouth, his face paler, “we need to go see Essek.”

#critical role #critical role campaign 2 #mollymauk tealeaf #jester lavorre #fjord #cr fjord #this is not my best work but I loved writing it so I thought id share!!!

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bebepac · 4 years ago

Text

Substitute Queen (Happy Birthday Queen Walton!)

This is a special edition of Fast Forward for my friend @queenwalton as she enjoys this series I've created a lot and it is her birthday! (Well a day early!)

I'm pretty sure you have been following along with me since I started writing on the fandom a little over a year ago. Thank you for your friendship and support. I hear from you after every chapter I post and I love it. Also thank you for being my trustworthy reader of infinite snippets. I hope you have an absolutely wonderful birthday my friend. 🥰🥰🥰🥰❤❤❤

A/N: Thanks @dcbbw for bouncing some ideas around with me, and giving me a few to make this birthday fic even better. Thank you girl.

Summary: Riley and Liam go on their first vacation alone since the events of Ellie’s kidnapping. Maxwell and Taylor take care of all the children. Maxwell throws a “Baby” Beaumont Bash.

Original Post Date: 03/24/21 at 11:55AM EST

The Book: TRH and Beyond

Pairing: Liam x Riley / Maxwell x Taylor

Warnings: None other than hilarious fluff

Word Count: 2425

Song inspiration for this chapter: Baby Shark (Trap Music Remix)

I don’t own rights to this hilarious music.

Liam saw Riley standing in the study with her back turned to him. The King of Cordonia shifted seamlessly into stealth mode as he crept silently into the study, surprising his Queen by pouncing on her like a lion, grabbing her and slipping his arms around her waist, and sensually planting a soft kiss to the sensitive skin on her neck. He gently rubbed himself against her.

“Take a break for a little while my love.”

He felt her body tense up.

“EEEWWWWW GROSS!!! NOT YOUR WIFE!!! OOOOH GOD!!!!!!! NOT YOUR WIFE!!! PUT THAT THING AWAY!!!!!! YOU HAVE FOUR KIDS!?!?!?!?!? AREN’T YOU GUYS TIRED OF DOING THAT?!?!?!?!??!?!?!?”

Liam quickly recoiled from her. Liam looked genuinely horrified when she turned to face him.

“I’m so sorry Taylor. From behind, I swear I couldn’t…I mean I didn’t…..”

“Bleh!!!! Don’t finish that sentence!!!!!!

Riley walked in the room seeing Taylor and Liam visibly uncomfortable.

“What did I miss?”

“I need a bath!!! Your husband thought I was you. Apparently we look the same from behind.”

Riley glanced at Taylor. “I mean…. He’s really not completely wrong Tay. Now that you had the twins, we really do.”

Taylor scowled.

“And that right there is why no one will mistake us for each other from the front. Your scowl face.”

“Well this is a sufficiently awkward conversation, so I’m going to go, especially after I’ve completely embarrassed myself. Riley when you’re finished, please come by my study.” Liam still had a flush on his cheeks and ears.

“For real, put that thing away Liam, it’s barely lunch time.” Taylor grumbled.

“I will be there.” She winked at him.

Liam’s smile returned.

“Can one of you keep it in your pants please? You two are like horny teenagers.”

“I’m okay with that.” They both said in unison smiling at each other. Liam left the room.

“Are you going away for your wedding anniversary?”

“We probably should, but we have our date nights, and we can always sneak some time alone now that the kids are a little older, now that everyone is potty trained and not on the boob anymore. God I missed my boobs being mine, and now that they are again, of course they look like a dumpster fire after breastfeeding four kids.”

“Well that’s one hell of a bra then.”

“Who are you telling? They would be dragging the floor otherwise.”

Taylor laughed.

“Please don’t do that visual to our body.”

“It is our body right?”

Riley and Taylor giggled.

“You two should go away alone. You two never get adult time… And I don’t mean just for that. You two apparently get more than enough adult time for that.”

“Tay, it’s just that we haven’t really been away from the kids. Anywhere we go, we travel as a family. I feel safer that way, so does Liam.”

“Because of me right?”

“Tay….”

“It is. The last time you two tried to go on vacation was when I took Ellie, and you haven’t been apart from them a day since. It’s my fault you two are afraid to be away from your children."

“Taylor, Liam and I have forgiven you for that, a long time ago. We know that you’re not the same person you once were.”

“Prove it, you two take a trip, and it’s a trip you two desperately deserve. I promise the palace will be still standing when you get back.”

Taylor smiled at Riley.

“Please let me do this for the two of you. It’s been one thing after another, and you guys deserve a vacation. Let me and Max take care of the kids.”

“Tay… you do realize that would be your two barely crawling plus my four. You two would be taking care of six children.”

“And your kids are pretty self sufficient. They can feed themselves.”

“You’ll need some reinforcements, Tay. For real. I’ll call Drake and Hana to help.”

“I really think Max and I can handle it.”

“Tay…”

“Riley, we got this.”

*^*^*^*^* Taylor and Maxwell *^*^*^*^*

“You volunteered us for WHAT?!?!?!?!?”

“Oh come on Max, they’re just kids.”

“Yeah, and we’ve been lucky to keep the two of ours alive so far. We’re going to be outnumbered Softie. There’s going to be six of them and two of us. You have put them at an unfair advantage.”

Taylor laughed.

“This is not a war Maxwell.”

“Oh, it’s definitely a war.”

A week later, Riley and Liam were preparing to leave for their first vacation alone, since they had children.

Riley kissed and hugged each child.

“Now you kids behave for Auntie Taylor and Uncle Maxwell. I’m counting on you Miss Crown Princess for a report when I return. You know you’re first in command Ellie.”

Ellie stood up straight and squared her shoulders. “I promise Daddy, we’ll all be good.”

Ellie gave a little salute.

Liam gave one back.

“As you were, my princess.”

Riley, still kneeling, smoothed down Liberty’s little curls. Her little lip was already trembling.

“Mommy loves you baby.” She kissed her little cheeks.

“Are you ready to leave My Love?”

Riley stood up nodding. Liam reached out her hand for hers.

They started to walk towards the SUV.

“Mama.”

Liam felt Riley stop.

“It’s okay My Love we can do this.”

Riley’s eyes were quickly filling with tears.

Riley resumed her stride.

“Dada?”

The little inflection of a question in Liberty’s voice made Liam stop dead in his tracks. His grip tightening on Riley’s hand. Liam took a deep shaky breath.

"Don't look back Liam, you know we won't leave if we do."

Bastien and Nico could see how the King and Queen were struggling to leave their children.

“Your Majesties, come this way.” Bastien called out to them gently.

Both the King and Queen were in tears hearing their youngest burst into tears at the sight of them leaving, as they climbed into the black SUV.

“It’s okay. They’ll be fine Riley. They have reinforcements.”

“Taylor wouldn’t let me call Drake or Hana.”

Liam hit a button on his phone. He put the phone on speaker.

“What’s your location?”

“Already inside the palace.”

“Olivia?”

“And you fully understand the plan?”

“Let your tiny humans drive Taylor and Maxwell insane?”

“NO!!!!”

“I know the plan Liam! Not be seen and keep a watch on them, and only appear if they need help with the children. “

“Yes. Thank you Liv.”

“I do this because we’re friends Riley.”

“Liberty has a set of lungs on her, she hasn’t stopped crying since you two left. I’m sure she’ll be fine.”

“Thank you Liv.”

“They’ll be fine, i’ll be watching. Enjoy your vacation already.”

“Where are we headed? Since you wouldn’t disclose a location to me, I literally packed for everything including plagues and fire rain.”

“For some fun in the sun on our own private beach.”

“Good thing I packed a bathing suit.”

“You won’t be needing it.”

Riley smacked Liam’s arm as he waggled his eyebrows at her.

*^*^*^*^*^* Meanwhile back at the Palace *^*^*^*^*^*^*^*

“C’mon Libby it’s okay. Mommy and Daddy will be back.”

Taylor picked her up, rocking her in her arms.

“Shhhhhh… it’s okay Libby. Auntie Taylor is here, so is Uncle Max.”

Libby’s cries subsided a little but not significantly.

“Can I try?” Ellie asked.

Ellie crossed her eyes and made a funny face at Libby causing her to break out into a fit of giggles.

“We’re evening out the odds. Three on three, I like those odds better Taylor. We might actually survive this. They will listen to one of their own. Ellie is like our super agent spy.”

By the end of day one both Taylor and Maxwell were exhausted, tending to and chasing around six children. At least their two were relatively easy to catch, as they were barely mobile.

“Why did I think the children being self-sufficient was going to be a good thing? I’ve never been this tired in my life.”

“Is this what we have to look forward to when they’re older?”

"Seems like it."

^*^*^*^* Liam and Riley *^*^*^*

“My Love?”

“Yes Dear?”

“You don’t have to cut up my food for me.”

Riley had absentmindedly cut up Liam’s chicken into very small child bite size pieces. She had also ruffled his hair and kissed his forehead.

“Oh! I didn’t even realize.”

Liam smiled at her, running his fingers through his hair. “We’ve been parents for so long, it’s been a long time since you and I have been truly alone.”

“You know what I want to do after dinner?” Riley inquired.

Liam raised his eyebrow with an intrigued smirk.

“I think I might have an idea of exactly what you want to do.”

Liam and Riley went to sleep after dinner. Both stretched out in the bed. Both had covers, and no kids arms, legs, feet, or hair in their face.

Every night was like that Liam and Riley got the most sleep they had, had in years…. Well after other adult activities. Liam had even turned off his alarm living in the moment with Riley.

*^*^* Baby Beaumont Bash *^*^*^*

Taylor was feeding the girls when she heard loud thumping music. Taylor could hear jingling. Taylor glanced up, seeing the chandelier above her head was thumping to the beat of the music. Thank goodness the twins were used to Maxwell's antics, and Lily and Violet were sleeping right through it. She put Violet back in the crib and walked down the hall. The closer she got to the east wing ballroom the music got louder.

Taylor pulled the doors open to the ballroom, smoke bubbled down the hall.

There were multi colored blinking lights, a disco ball spinning from the ceiling and a snack table full of candy, sweets and soda.

Maxwell had a DJ station set up playing a song on an endless loop, bobbing his head to the music with his headphones on.

And Riley's kids hopped up on kiddie cocaine (aka sugar) dancing and flailing around in what Taylor could only think to describe as a kiddie rave.

"Is that….. a trap remix of baby shark?"

"Heck yeah it is."

And the kids were loving it.

Maxwell let the music keep playing and he had a bottle of champagne in one hand calling Ellie and Adam over to him. He had a sword in his right.

"Adam you hold the bottle."

"You are not giving them champagne Maxwell! They're children!"

"I'm shocked at you Softie. What kind of Uncle do you think I am? It's just sparkling apple cider. Okay Ellie, you get the sword because you're the oldest. And what you want to do is slice just like I'm showing you. Oh, and don't kill your brother, that would be bad."

"I don't think Daddy would let us do this Uncle Maxwell." Ellie said wearily.

"Heck no he wouldn't. Well not with Maxwell teaching you. If anyone is going to teach the crown princess to slice anything while someone else is holding it, it's going to be me."

Olivia appeared walking out of the shadows of an alcove.

"Have you been here the whole week?"

"Of course! You know Liam and Riley. And these kids are never going to fall asleep, if we don't have them dance the sugar out."

"I've got just the thing.”

Max cranked up the music.

*^*^*^*^* Liam and Riley *^*^*^*^*

"Liam I miss them."

"We'll be home to see them by noon tomorrow."

"Liam I know you miss them too, log into Crown Cam, so we can see them."

Riley sat next to Liam as he logged into Crown Cam.

As they went to each room they noticed none of the children were in their beds.

"It's past their bedtime."

"Did you really think Max and Taylor would get all kids to bed on time?"

"No but…."

They clicked on each room, until they got to the ballroom on the east wing.

Both gasped at the scene. Liam clicked the button enabling the cameras to pick up sound in the room.

Both looked at each other, seeing their kids wildly dancing and flailing about. Libby was excitedly jumping up and down with a glow stick while Olivia sang on stage.

"Is Olivia really singing and rapping to Let It Go?!?"

Olivia's Rap

Liam nodded, watching the scene for a few more moments before slowly closing his laptop.

"I'm sure there is a perfectly good explanation for all of this."

*^*^*^*^*^* kiddie rave *^*^*^*^*

Taylor danced with the kids while Max continued at his DJ station.

"Olivia can flow, can you believe it Max?!?"

"OLIVIA!!!!! LANGUAGE!!!!!!! THEY'RE CHILDREN!!!!" Maxwell screamed.

"Are you serious with me right now?!? Language?"

Olivia rolled her eyes in complete annoyance.

"Of all the things you've done, LANGUAGE is your hard stop? You gave the crown princess a SWORD to slice a bottle out of her younger brother's hands, and instructed her not to kill him. That's entirely okay, but CURSING is where you draw the line in the sand? Seriously Maxwell?"

Both Taylor and Olivia glared at Maxwell for a few moments in confusion.

"Liv keep going!!! We have to tire them out!!!"

Olivia resumed her rap battle….with herself.

Within an hour it looked like a crime scene in the ballroom. Children were passed out everywhere.

Taylor picked up a sleeping Ellie, Olivia, grabbed Adam, and Maxwell carried Jaiden and Liberty upstairs to their beds.

"They need baths, their faces and hands are dirty with crumbs and sweets."

"We'll give them baths in the morning, before Liam and Riley get back." Maxwell was confident they could get it done.

They didn't. They all slept in instead.

When Liam and Riley arrived back at the palace, they didn't know what to expect.

They saw their kids, all lined up wearing yesterday's clothes, dirty faces, and wild chaotic hair, looking like they had their own kiddie walks of shame. But each child had a huge smile on their face.

Liam walked up to Ellie.

"Your report my Crown Princess?"

"Daddy! I sliced a bottle top off a bottle while Adam held it."

"And I didn't die!" Adam screamed confidently.

"We had fun!" Jaiden exclaimed.

"Daddy did you know Auntie Liv is a gangsta rapper?" Ellie's voice sounded like she was in complete awe.

"Yes My Princess, we saw."

Olivia turned pale, then she knowingly nodded. "I should have known you two would access Crown Cam."

Riley turned to Maxwell.

"So you threw a Beaumont Bash…. for our children?" Riley asked.

"Of course, gotta train them up right!! Little Blossom!"

"Sure, they're a little dirty, but at least the palace is still standing, what else would you expect from the Substitute Queen?" Taylor commented with a smirk.

Happy birthday! I hope you enjoyed this!

Tagging the comments

#bebepac writes #birthday fics #happy birthday queenwalton #trh fanfic #trh fandom #riley x liam #fast forward #choices fic writers creations

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pies-writes-and-more · 5 years ago

Text

A French Kiss

Word Count: 7, 947

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Fem!Reader

Warnings: No warnings! Just some super cute fluff :)

A/N: Dedicating this work to the lovely @wxstedhexrt!!!! Ps. Destiny if you thought i wasn’t going to dedicate this fic to you, you’re crazy lol. Thank you so much for being such a cute part of my writing process😉😘

(Not my gfif, creds to the original creator!!)

Y/N held her phone tightly to her chest, eyes scanning the crowd. Too old. Too young. Eh, maybe? Not that one. Maybe that one? Shit no, has a girlfriend. Has kids. Ugh.

“You’re not actually going to do this are you?” Wanda asked, taking a sip from the iced coffee she had bought earlier. She watched as her friend nervously shifted her weight, staring at different men who were around them.

“Of course I am. I need to do this.” Y/N’s hands were shaking a little. Here she was, at an amazing photo opportunity in front of the Eiffel Tower, and she wasn’t even looking at it. She could only imagine how stupid she looked to everyone else.

Nat sighed from her spot on the ground. She had known this was going to take a while so she had laid out her rain jacket on the ground and sat down, absentmindedly scrolling through her phone. “Just pick someone. Anyone.”

“I can’t just pick, Natasha,” Y/N huffed, hands on her hips as she turned to look at her friend. “I need someone who is far better looking than Jake could ever dream to be. Not to mention I need to make sure he’s not married or with his family or with his girlfriend because I can’t imagine how awkward that would be-”

“What about him?” Wanda spoke up, nodding forward.

Y/N followed her gaze to a group of guys gathered around a nearby bench, laughing and smiling together. Y/N couldn’t be sure which guy Wanda was referring to but her eyes immediately fell on the blond guy who was writing? maybe sketching? into a small notebook. They were loud enough for Y/N to catch glimpses of their conversation, making a small smile pull at her lips.

“God this is going to take forever. Why didn’t you just take a photo?” The long dark-haired one whined, popping a snack into his mouth.

“The more you whine, the longer I’m going to take,” Y/N heard the blond say. She bit her lip, finally turning to Wanda and shaking her head.

“No way, he’s busy.” Y/N tried to seem casual, as if this wasn’t the first guy that she felt like she was drooling over. He had such a great physique, and that quiet concentrated look on her face made her swoon. What kind of guy like that would be single anyways?

“Oh come on, what you’re asking for takes like two seconds. Just go ask!” Wanda insisted but Y/N just made whining noises in response.

“God, no. I can’t do this. This is too embarrassing. Forget this. Forget Jake. Let’s just take a group photo and get this over with.” Y/N fumbled with her phone quickly, getting ready to just take a selfie with her girls.

“Nuh uh. I did not just get comfortable here on this foreign floor for you to chicken out of what you’ve been planning on doing the whole trip here.” Nat insisted, sighing but getting up anyways. Instead of posing for the selfie, she grabbed her things off the ground and then tightly wound her fingers around Y/N’s wrist, dragging her over to the group of guys.

“Hi there! I’m Wanda, this is Nat and Y/N!” Wanda spoke up to them first, having skipped along Nat and Y/N (who was still protesting and pulling at Nat’s strong grip).

The guys stared at the girls for a moment, all three of them sharing a look before looking back at them. “Hey there. I’m Sam. That’s Bucky and Steve,” the one guy grinned, nodding towards his friends. His smile was lined with amusement, obviously trying to not laugh at how distressed Y/N looked. “You being kidnapped or something?”

“Please, if they wanted to kidnap me, no one would’ve noticed.” Y/N huffed but gave him a sheepish smile.

“What can we do for you, ladies?” The long dark-haired one, whom Sam introduced as Bucky, asked. His smile was sort of cocky looking, very cheeky, Y/N noticed. She tried to look anywhere but at the blond, who seemed to be eyeing her.

Nat nudged Y/N forward, raising an eyebrow at her like she was saying Go ahead. “Um.” Y/N bit down on her lip, glancing back at the Eiffel Tower. Maybe she could lie. Maybe she could just ask them to take a picture of her and the girls and it would be over lickety-split.

“Y/N needs to be kissed.” Nat stated simply, noting the hesitation in her friend. The bluntness in her tone shocked everyone but Wanda who just snickered beside her.

“Nat!” Y/N whined, eyes going wide as she glared at her friend. “That’s not- that’s not the whole story! You… It sounds weird if you say it like that!”

“Well then, you tell them the story.” Nat shrugged. She placed her jacket back down on the ground, sitting back down and looking up at her friend, as if becoming part of the audience for the story she knew all too well.

Y/N sigh and closed her eyes for a moment, wishing she could just disappear. “Uh.” Her eyes opened and they immediately locked onto Steve’s beautiful blue eyes. God he was gorgeous. A guy like that would make Jake insanely jealous. “I got… I got dumped by my boyfriend a few weeks ago.” She started, immediately realizing how pitiful that sounded.

“Actually, you dumped him. He cheated on you.” Wanda interjected as she squeezed onto the bench beside Steve. She gave him a smile as he shifted to make room for her. “But continue.”

All of the guys gave her empathetic smiles, but stayed quiet as if to urge her to keep going. Y/N wished her life wasn’t as tragic as this story sounded.

“Fine. Jake cheated on me. With a girl he’d been friends with for a while. But that’s besides the point. Kinda. I mean it’s the whole point of why we’re here and asking but it’s still besides the point,” she rambled nervously. Wanda rolled her eyes and stretched out her leg, kicking the girl in her shin and making her yelp. “Hey!”

“Come on girl, get to the point. I’m sure these guys have other things they need to do today.” Wanda teased, making Nat snicker.

“No no, please continue. If it leads up to a kiss, I’d much rather hear the full story,” Bucky grinned, making Y/N’s face feel hot. He gave her a playful wink and Steve reached over to hit him over the head.

“Let her finish her story, Buck,” Steve glared, looking back at her with a small smile.

Y/N smiled back nervously, chewing on the inside of her cheek, “W-Well. I just… Paris was supposed to be the place that me and my ex were going to go. We always talked about it. So now that I’m here…” her voice drifted for a bit and she glanced back at the Tower once more.

“Ooooh.” Sam chuckled, his dark brown eyes sparkling as he put two and two together. “You’re looking to make that son of a bitch jealous. Find a cute guy to take a picture with in front of the Eiffel Tower, make him regret what he did to you, amiright?”

Y/N blushed further but nodded. He had hit the nail right on its head.

“Honestly, you probably could’ve just asked us to kiss you and we would’ve said yes,” Bucky laughed, clapping a hand onto the shoulder of the blond guy, who Y/N noticed seemed to have tucked his notebook away. “Except for Steve here. He’s a proper old school gentleman.”

“Buck,” Steve groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose slightly. “Can you go like five seconds without embarrassing me?”

“Normally? Yes. But when there’s cute girls involved, it’s hard.” Bucky chuckled and turned to Y/N, “Well sorry your ex was an asshole. But on the plus side, you’ve got your pick of us three. Any of us you’d prefer?”

Y/N wanted nothing more but to faint. Here she was, actually doing the thing she wanted to do, with insanely handsome men who actually wanted to help, but it was all too much. She was overwhelmed with anxiety, her heart was pumping so fast she wasn’t sure she could actually form a complete sentence. It would be mortifying to say that she was already falling for Steve, even though she literally just met him.

“Cool it, Bucky, you’re making the poor girl sweat,” Sam smacked Bucky’s arm, who just turned to smack him back. “Just let her breathe, sheesh.”

Y/N’s eyes flickered over to Steve, who also seemed to be blushing a little. She wasn’t sure why. Maybe he was just embarrassed over his friends? Y/N could relate to that.

“Actually, Y/N’s got a think for blonds!” Nat piped up, only looking up from her phone to smirk at her friend.

“Oh that’s rightttt. Especially when they’re artists. You were sketching a little earlier, weren’t you? Steve, was it?” Wanda asked, nudging Steve slightly. She wiggled her eyebrows at him making both Y/N and Steve squirm shyly.

That’s it. Y/N was surely going to die. She looked up to the sky momentarily, wondering if Zeus would smite her just to help a girl out.

“Ooooh well lucky for you, our blond artist is a hopeless romantic still looking for love,” Sam chuckled. “He’s the complete package, so please take him so we don’t have to.”

Steve shot him a glare, moving his gaze back to Y/N and giving her that same sweet empathetic smile. She felt her stomach flip a little, quickly staring at the floor instead. God, if she couldn’t even look at him without feeling butterflies, would she really be able to kiss him?

“Okay enough eye fucking, you two.” Nat spoke up casually. “Wanda, go take their photo before they end up having babies.”

“Nat!” Y/N was going to kill her for that later but Nat, Wanda, and Steve’s friends laughed it away. Steve blushed a little more, standing up and brushing off the eraser dust from his pants. Y/N couldn’t help but feel small next to him. Not because of his height, but he just had this aura. A strong, protective aura.

He took her hand gently and Y/N bit her lip at the feeling of his callouses. Her mind went to all sorts of places, wondering how such a gentle man had such a hard outer shell. “We really don’t have to. I don’t want you to feel like you have to do this. It’s a really stupid idea anyways, I don’t even know if he’ll see it.” She rambled nervously as the two of them walked to a good picture spot, Wanda and the others behind them.

“He’ll see it.” Steve stated firmly with a smile to her. “If I lost a girl like you, I’d be checking all your social media to see if you missed me too.”

Y/N’s cheeks flushed again, staring at the ground nervously, “Yeah well, I can’t be all that great if he found someone else while he was with me.”

Wanda positioned them in a spot with good lighting, Steve turning to face Y/N as Wanda got her camera ready, “You ever been to an art museum? And some asshole just blows right by a piece of art, acting like there isn’t emotions poured into it, like there isn’t something deeper in it? Sometimes art isn’t appreciated the way it should be. Just gotta find that one guy who’s going to be speechless every time he sees you.”

Y/N looked up at him with wide eyes. How did this man go from blushing, awkward, and quiet to smooth and flirty? She couldn’t help but giggle as she raised an eyebrow, “You always talk like this? Or is it just the influence of the City of Love?” She teased, feeling a sudden ease in talking to him. He felt so comfortable now, when it was just the two of them a little ways away from their playful friends.

“I dunno, doll. I’m in a city filled with some of the greatest pieces of art, and right now I’d much rather be here. Looking at you.” He teased back with a smirk. He saw her face glow a little more and he reached out to brush her hair from her eyes.

Although Y/N’s face felt hot, a cool breeze pushed past. She pulled her arms to her chest, rubbing her arms gently, “Are you just saying all these because you pity me?” She asked with a small smile. “I’m okay you know. About the whole… getting cheated on ex boyfriend thing.”

Steve watched her for a moment and stepped back a little to pull his blue sweater over his head. Y/N tried not to let her eyes stare but it was hard not to notice the muscles hiding under his white undershirt as he stripped. “Here. You must be cold.”

Y/N flushed a little, stammering out some sounds as he helped her ease the large sweater over her head.

“And no. I’m not lying about all this. You really are beautiful, Y/N,” he leaned forward, whispering it into her ear. “I’m sorry that jackass hurt you… but I can’t say I’m all that sorry that I’m standing here with the opportunity to kiss you.” Steve’s fingers found their way under her chin, tilting it up gently.

Y/N almost forgot what they were doing here. Her brain suddenly went, Jake who?She already felt like she was hyperventilating with Steve’s poetry-like words and chick-flick worthy speech. The moment Steve’s lips touched hers, her whole mind melted. His lips were soft and Y/N couldn’t help but smile at the comparison to his rough hands. All the love songs, the poems, the movies… they all talked about that one kiss and suddenly, they all made sense. After a moment, Steve pulled away slightly but Y/N quickly filled the gap, grabbing a fistful of his shirt and pulling him back.

When the fogginess of her mind disappeared and the two of them finally took a turn to breathe, their eyes locked momentarily. Y/N could’ve sworn she heard a “wow” escape from Steve’s lips.

Whoops and hollers from their friends were quickly becoming louder as the two of them returned to Earth from their makeout high.

“Damn Steve, you kiss all girls like that?” Wanda teased, having snapped numerous photos of the kiss, not to mention a ton of the cute interaction that happened before. She and Nat shared a laugh, knowing Y/N was going to love the cute picture of Steve stripping next to the picture of her standing in his sweater.

“What girls?” Sam snickered, him and Bucky high-fiving. “Steve’s a completely mess around most girls.”

Steve let out a groan as he shot a death glare to Sam. “Can you… I’m trying to be… ugh!” He huffed, flustered with both embarrassment and frustration, especially as he heard Y/N giggling next to him. Here he was, overwhelmed with endorphins from having kissed the prettiest girl he’s ever seen, and his friends can’t stop making him out to be an anxious nervous wreck. He was an anxious nervous wreck around girls but this girl didn’t have to know that!

The four friends laughed nearby as they all got to know each other a little more, teasing the slightly awkward ‘couple’ as they stood there, unsure of what to do now.

“Y-You don’t have a girlfriend or anything to get back to do you?” Y/N asked as she blinked at him, realizing she hadn’t even asked him before.

Steve shook his head quickly, cheeks turning pink as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Naw, I haven’t had much luck in the love department for a while.” He admitted, mentally slapping himself as the words left his lips. Why is he telling her this??? He had been so careful in choosing his words before, wanting to make the whole interaction feel as romantic as possible. After all, this girl deserved to be swooned.

Y/N couldn’t help but smile at how nervous he seemed. Before he kissed her, he was all smooth and suave, but he also seemed so soft and awkward.

Right now, Steve was looking like he was battling a war in his head. He shifted on his feet, watching her nervously, “Was… was it okay?” He blurted out, biting down on his lip as he watched her expression. “The kiss, I mean?”

Y/N wasn’t sure what to tell him. How could she put into words the way that his lips literally made her feel like she was floating? How could she tell this man, a man she would probably never see again, that he was like a drug and she was already addicted? Here he was, a stranger, and Y/N was falling in fucking love with him when she had only done this to get back at her stupid ex boyfriend?

“I-It was…” She hesitated, looking for a good word. “Perfect.” The word slipped from Y/N’s lips faster than she could comprehend it. The two of them shared another blush, an awkward silence falling on them.

“Hey Rogers, if you’re done fonduing, we gotta meet with Tony and Rhodey! Got that dinner reservation Tony’s been talking about!” Bucky yelled over. Steve’s heart fell a little and he looked over at Y/N, only to find the same slight downcast expression on her face.

“Thank you… for your help,” she smiled up at him. Steve tried to capture the image in his mine, the sight of her smile, gleaming in the sun behind them. This was the sight Steve wanted to die looking at.

“A-Anytime,” he quickly stammered, realizing that he was staring at her.

“Steve!” Bucky yelled again, glancing between his friend and the watch on his wrist. “If we’re late, Tony’s gonna kill us!”

Steve groaned a little, rolling his eyes at the sound of his best friend. “I should go.” He sighed, looking at her just once more. He leaned over and brushed her hair from her face, bending over to plant a gentle kiss on her cheek. “Have a great time in Paris, doll.” He murmured to her before rushing over to Bucky’s side.

The boys left, Sam and Bucky teasing him endlessly and loudly, drawing the attention of many people nearby. Y/N’s cheeks were still flushed as she slowly walked over to her friends, their grins as wide as their faces.

“Soooo. Steveeee.” Wanda sang with a giggle. “He’s much cuter than Jake.”

“He’s much cuter than any guy you’ve dated,” Nat corrected with a smirk. “You’re welcome. When you guys get married, I hope that you’ll thank me in your wedding vows.”

Y/N rolled her eyes with a smile, shaking her head. “I’m never going to see him again, you goose.”

Wanda and Nat’s wide eyes made Y/N feel like she had grown a second head. “W-What?” She frowned, feeling a little self-conscious with them looking at her.

“Um hello? You just shared the hottest kiss with a man in the most romantic spot in the world and you’re not planning on seeing him again?” Wanda asked, hands on her hips.

“How would I?” Y/N frowned slightly, giving a shrug.

Nat stared at her exasperatedly, “You didn’t give him your number?! What about your instagram? So he could be tagged in the photos?”

Y/N shrugged again, blushing now as she realized how much she now wanted to give him that info. “He didn’t ask for it,” she gave as an excuse, only worsening her slight pain. Her mind wondered for a moment about why... why hadn’t he asked for it?

“Wait, but you’re still wearing his sweater,” Wanda gaped, eyes wide.

Y/N’s eyes widened as she looked down to indeed find his blue sweater fitted on her body. “Shit!” She screeched, running towards the direction the boys had headed. Her eyes darted between groups, trying to find a sign of either one of the boys she had met. But she had no clue where they were headed, she didn’t even know what restaurant they were going to.

“Fuck...” she mumbled. A little piece of hope that had flickered in her heart died, realizing that she had lost her chance to connect with the one guy who made all the love songs make sense.

Y/N wore the sweater all night long, admittedly because she loved the smell of him on it. She could feel her heart grow a little, her chest tighten, her lips tingle, ever time she inhaled it again. God he smelled so good. But she also wore the sweater because she had hoped that whilst they were roaming around Paris’ nightlife, he would see her.

“Aw baby girl, chin up,” Wanda cooed gently, touching her arm as they got back to their hotel room. “Maybe you’ll see him again!”

“Where?” Y/N moped, sitting on her bed. “I had my chance and I totally messed it up.”

Nat and Wanda tried to stay positive for her but they all knew the chances of running into the boys again were slim. Y/N kicked herself mentally as she started getting dressed for bed for not at least asking him where he was from. Sure, he had an American accent but there was 50 states! What if he was Canadian? American and Canadian accents weren’t all that different were they? That means 50 states PLUS 13 provinces/territories in Canada… The thought pulled a sigh from Y/N’s lips. Even if she did manage to find him, there was no telling he’d actually want to see her again.

Y/N folded up the sweater gently, sighing as she pressed it flat into her suitcase. But as she did, her hand pushed against something harder than a bunch of fabric should be. Curious, Y/N reached into the large sweater pocket and pulled out a small notebook. Her eyes widened as she realized it was the booklet that Steve had been sketching in earlier.

Great, not only did I steal this man’s sweater, I stole his art too, Y/N thought to herself. She bit her lip as she sat down on the floor, carefully opening up the notebook, as if it might break if she were too harsh with it.

The first page made her laugh a little. It was Bucky and Sam, fast asleep on airport seats, both with their arms crossed and Sam’s mouth open a little. Y/N was surprised at just how much detail went into such a small drawing. No line was without purpose.

The next few pages looked like they were what Steve had seen out of the plane’s window, most of them having the wing in the centre and small clouds flickering around.

She thumbed through the drawings, loving each and every one of them more and more. Landscapes filled pages and Y/N felt herself get excited when she found something she recognized. It was like a little memory book of the places the boys had all gone together. She noticed two more figures in most of the drawings, figuring these were the other two that the boys were meeting up with when they left. Throughout all these drawings, at the bottom, there was Steve’s signature. In scribbled lines, she could make out S. G. Rogers. She let her thumb glide over for a moment, as if she was missing someone she knew well. She couldn’t help but laugh at herself, knowing she literally met him for not even an hour.

Y/N shook the thoughts from her head as she flipped to the next drawing. Her eyes blinked for a moment, taking in the beautiful sight of the Eiffel Tower that she had see earlier that day. He really was a talented artist, Y/N noted. Even in just sheer pencil, she could see details she probably missed in her momentary glimpses at the tourist site.

“What’s that?” Nat’s sudden voice made Y/N jump, realizing Nat had just come out of the bathroom.

“Uh Steve’s drawings… It was in the sweater.” Y/N explained shyly, handing over the book.

“Oooh more about Steve?” Wanda gasped, hopping over immediately. “Oh wow, he really is an artist huh?” She grinned, flipping through the pictures.

“So now you stole his artwork too huh?” Nat teased, making Y/N pout.

“Stop! Don’t say that! It wasn’t my fault!” Y/N huffed, hugging her knees to her chest. She couldn’t help but feel a little happy that she had his notebook and sweater. It would convince her that all of this actually had been real, and not a dream, like it was starting to feel like.

----------

Steve hadn’t even realized he was missing his sweater until after dinner. The group of guys had sat back in their chairs a little, sighing at what was a great meal when Steve noticed Bucky giving him a weird look. “What’s wrong? Got something on my face?” Steve asked, nudging his friend.

“No… something’s just different.” Bucky tilted his head slightly. His eyes squinted slightly, opening again slowly as he said, “Weren’t you wearing a sweater earlier?”

Steve’s eyes could’ve popped out of his head. He immediately stood up from the table, staring out the window in the direction that he had met Y/N and the other girls. He had only meant to give her the sweater for a moment, while they were taking pictures and talking. She seemed cold, how could he not? (His mother would’ve killed him if he hadn’t… not to mention he really liked seeing her in his clothes). How had he completely forgotten to get it back?

“I bet I know where it is,” Sam snickered as he watched the confusion on Steve’s face.

“Where?” Tony asked, looking between the three.

Rhodey rolled his eyes, “Tony, catch up. There was a girl. He kissed the girl-”

“-And being the ever so lovely gentleman we know and love Steve Rogers to be, he gave her his sweater,” Sam finished with a laugh, shaking his head. “Didn’t have your wallet in there did it? Any other important things?”

Steve shook his head, glad to feel the wallet-sized lump in his jeans pocket. “No… but my sketch book…”

“Not like you can’t just draw some more,” Rhodey shrugged and grinned up at him.

“Yeah but I was hoping to bring it all back and use it for my paintings,” Steve frowned tightly, looking at the boys who had met Y/N with him. “You don’t think she’s still around there do you?”

“Come on, Steve, it’s been hours! You can’t honestly think the girl waited around for you. Just give her a text or something.” Bucky’s amused smile on his face froze as he saw the blush appearing on Steve’s face. “…You did get her number or something didn’t you? I mean, that’s the most tongue-tied I’ve seen you with a girl in a long time!”

“Oh so there was tongue. Talk about a true French Kiss,” Tony snickered, making the other boys laugh and Steve feel like he could die.

“No, Tony, there was no tongue,” Steve rolled his eyes, sitting back down slowly crossing his arms over his chest. “I… I might’ve forgotten to ask for her number…” Steve muttered, knowing exactly what was coming.

“Steve!” Sam and Bucky both yelled, both swatting at his arms from either side of him.

“How could you forget?” Sam groaned, shaking his head. “Just like you to get all flustered over a girl, and have her get all flustered over you, just for you to completely forget to make sure she could get in contact with you!”

Steve looked up, his eyes suddenly beaming with hope instead of shame, “She was getting flustered over me?” He asked curiously, letting out a groan when both Sam and Bucky swatted at his arms again.

“Idiot,” Bucky shook his head devastatingly but he smiled anyways. He wanted to let Steve mope a little more, as a consequence for being an idiot, and then later, maybe he’d show him the pictures that he and Sam had taken of Steve and Y/N.

_______

Why Natasha and Wanda were dragging Y/N out on a Friday night, she had no clue. Normally, if they were going to go out on a Friday, it would be to a club. Not to some place that had a black tie dress code.

Y/N tugged on her dress slightly, feeling a bit uncomfortable all dressed up and not understanding where they were going. “Can someone please-” she started, but the two stern looks she got back from Nat and Wanda shut her up quick.

“If you ask one more time where we’re going, I’m going to knock you out. I really don’t want you to be unconscious when we get there, but don’t tempt me, Y/N,” Nat threatened with a playful smirk on her face. “Just be patient. You look fucking hot, you’ll love it.”

Y/N sighed and slunk back into the Uber seat, tapping her fingers on her knee. Here she was, hair perfectly set around her face, body fitted into a black evening gown, a touch of makeup done… she was picture perfect. But Y/N couldn’t figure out why. Wasn’t her birthday, wasn’t any sort of important date…

Y/N stared out the window as she tried to consider all the possibilities. This seemed to be the biggest event since their trip to Paris about a month ago. The small memory of Paris made her smile, thinking about all the fun the girls had had together, and of course… Steve. She hadn’t really thought about him for a while. She spent the days back home looking for a Steve Rogers online, but it was such a common name, she knew she was bound to never find him.

His sweater sat in her dresser, waiting for the day that maybe she would meet him again and he could take it back. But one month later and no such luck.

Nat and Wanda shared a look as they watched their best friend fade into her daydreaming state. They giggled together quietly, Wanda nudging her slightly. “You’re sure you’ve got the tickets?” She murmured softly and Nat nodded in response.

“Just have your camera ready. I want to capture the moment.” Nat reminded her and Wanda agreed, slipping her phone out of her small purse.

Y/N stared at the building the Uber driver pulled up to. The bright lights at the entrance made it look so regal, like it was some event that major celebrities were going to be attending. As the girls stepped out of the car, Y/N silently thanked both of them for not letting her come in the casual dress she had originally picked out for herself. Her eyes caught sight of the gorgeous evening and cocktail gowns that other women were wearing, the sleek and smooth looks of bowties and suits on the men.

Y/N almost forgot that they were here to attend whatever this was, standing completely frozen from where the car had once been.

“Come on!” Wanda laughed, grabbing her hand. “It’s an art show!”

Y/N blinked in surprise, looking at her friends with a confused look on her face. Neither one of them had really shown any interest in art before… so why were they here?

“Tickets ma’am?” The man at the front asked with a smile. Nat started to open her purse but the man held up his hand. “Oh! Sorry, I didn’t realize you had a muse with you. Go right in, ladies.”

The girls looked at him and then at each other. Not wanting to hold up the line that was growing behind them, they started to walk in and Y/N raised an eyebrow, “Muse?”

Nat shrugged, pushing the tickets back in her purse. “Well damn, if I had known, I wouldn’t have bought these super expensive tickets,” she muttered to herself, making Wanda laugh. “What do you think he meant?”

“Um hello, you guys were the ones that dragged me down here, how should I know?” Y/N looked around as the three of them stood in the front halls of the museum. She wasn’t quite sure where they were supposed to go so she started to walk, so she started to follow a few people in front of her.

The decorations were stunning. Everything was black and white, so the colours on the mediums shot off the walls. People were walking around with trays of small horderves and other trays of champagne glasses. The girls each grabbed a glass, smiling at each other as they clicked the glasses together and took a sip. As the three of them continued to walk around, Y/N could’ve sworn that people were whispering as they passed, gawking at them.

“Is it… a private show?” Y/N whispered harshly to her friends as she noticed someone sneak a photo of them.

Nat’s eyebrows furrowed, noting the commotion she and the girls seemed to be making, and she shook her head, “No, it was a public event.”

“Ma’am, do you think I could take your photo?” A man asked with a smile, holding up his camera and press pass. “I’m doing a story on the artwork.”

Y/N had to look around for a moment, making sure that he was actually talking to her. “Sorry, I’m not… I don’t have a connection to this artwork?” She stated confusedly, stepping away and further into the exhibits with the girls.

“What the hell was that about?” Wanda mumbled, glancing back to see the man looking equally as confused.

Most of the people seemed to be in the on main section of the museum, whispers and murmurs filling the room. As Y/N and the girls walked in to see what everyone else was looking at, they were greeted with flashes of light. People with cameras yelling questions at them about how they felt about the exhibition and if she liked the pieces.

“Sorry I- I have no clue what you’re talking about-” Y/N tried to tell them, holding her hands up to protect her eyes from the multitude of flashes.

“I think I know.” Y/N turned to look at what Wanda was talking about, her jaw dropping for a moment.

There. In the middle of the room. On a large canvas, was her face.

Y/N had to take a moment, staring at the painting as if she were going to wake up from a dream any moment now. “N-Nat, what is this?” She looked over to her friend who seemed just as confused as she was.

“I didn’t think… I only saw his name,” Nat explained, her eyes wandering around.

“Whose name?” Y/N asked exasperatedly, her chest feeling tight. This room was suddenly feeling very small as she looked around. Everything else was of a landscape, gorgeous paintings of green landscapes, orange sunsets, beautiful cafe atmospheres… but this one painting was of her.

“What’s your relationship with the artist, miss?” A woman asked, holding up a voice recorder to Y/N’s face.

“S-Sorry?”

“The artist, miss. S. G. Rogers, what’s it like knowing that after being mostly known for landscapes, and other art that never has a specific muse, his new most talked about piece is the one featuring you?” The woman asked again and Y/N felt her whole body freeze.

S. G. Rogers.

Y/N stammered out an apology, rushing over to the nearest corner where the press weren’t, needing to breathe. Nat and Wanda moved with her, shooting glares at the reporters, as if daring them to follow.

She tried to focus her breathing, feeling all too overwhelmed with everything that was happening. Reporters’ voices started raising again, yelling loud questions again and Y/N winced, thinking they were coming back for more. Her eyes moved to the direction of the flashes, the sounds of the reporters, only to find a blond man standing with his back to her. He seemed awkward in front of all of them, attempting to answer questions and pose for pictures, though he didn’t really seem to want any.

“Can we get a picture of you and your muse?” A reporter asked out and all the others quieted, eagerly nodding.

The man held up an apologetic hand, moving it to rub the back of his neck, “S-She and I… well she’s not here.” He explained and more murmurs arose from the crowd.

“Isn’t that her? Standing right there?” Another reported yelped, pointing in Y/N’s direction.

She felt like a deer in headlights, the way that everyone seemed to turn on her. The man turned and sure enough… there was S. G. Rogers.

“Steve.” Y/N felt her lips breathe out, her eyes locking to those baby blue eyes.

“Surprise,” came weakly from Nat’s lips, who suddenly appeared next to Y/N. “This definitely wasn’t how I planned on it going though,” Y/N heard her mumble.

Y/N felt her brain tear into pieces over the next few seconds as she tried to make a decision. Part of her wanted to run. Run out of the museum and into fresh air, maybe that would make it easier to breathe. But she couldn’t help but think about how embarrassing that would be, for her to run and probably trip over her long dress and heels. The other part of her wanted to jump him, feel that ripple of sensations down her spine again like the last time he kissed her. Another part of her was confused and wanted to demand answers from him. Answers about why he hadn’t asked for her number if he was going to just paint her anyways!

“My lovely reporters, if you could all just take a step back for a moment. I think the lady needs a moment to breathe. You all can be very overwhelming as I’m sure you know. But I’m certain that once she has a chance to catch her surprise, perhaps Mr. Rogers and his muse will be able to stand for a few pictures later. Please, help yourself to the champagne and the food, they’re delicious-” a man spoke up, holding up a few pieces of food in his hand and plopping them into his mouth. Y/N recognized him vaguely and her mind connected his face to the simple sketches that had been in Steve’s Paris notebook.

The crowd dispersed, some hanging around close enough, as if waiting for more action between the two.

“Y/N?” Steve and the girl had barely stopped staring at each other, but the distance between them was still far. Y/N noticed Bucky walking over, as if casually walking across the room. But as he got to just behind Steve, he pushed him forward, sending Steve into a fumbling mess towards Y/N.

“S-Sorry!” Steve yelped out as he tripped over his feet, bumping into her slightly. He shot a glare at Bucky over his shoulder as he tried to compose himself but his gaze softened as it resumed on her. “Y-You’re here! How… How did you...” His cheeks were burning red. “How’re you here? How’d you find me?” He finally managed out, his hand reaching forward for hers but stopped, as if he thought better of his actions and pulled it back.

“I think Nat can answer that!” Wanda grinned from behind Y/N. “Sorry, we definitely weren’t expecting for you to have painted her and set her right in the middle of your exhibit, we probably would’ve prepped her for it if we had known-”

“We definitely would’ve prepped her,” Nat interjected with a guilty smile. “Sorry, Y/N.”

Y/N couldn’t find her voice as she studied his face. He looked the same as he did a month ago, that gorgeous nervous smile, his blond hair perfectly shaping those stunning blue eyes. She could feel her heart pounding out of her chest and was almost certain she was going to sweat all her makeup off.

“My notebook,” Steve guessed after a moment, giving the girls a small smile. He turned to Y/N with an apologetic look, “I’m sorry, I should’ve… I should’ve asked for your number or something. My mom was so upset with me that I just kissed you and left,” he admitted with a chuckle.

“You… told your mom?” Y/N squeaked out, making his cheeks turn a redder shade.

“I-I mean, I didn’t… I wasn’t going to but Bucky just blurted it out and then my mom just wanted to know more and you know, Bucky, he just keeps talking and-” Steve swallowed hard, pressing his lips together tightly as if trying to shut himself up. He looked over at Nat desperately, begging for her to start talking so he didn’t have to.

“Yes the notebook,” Nat clarified for him, smirking. “You left Y/N so lovesick she carried it around with her for a few weeks-”

“Nat!” Y/N whined, looking at her impossibly. “Really? Now? You want to embarrass me now?”

Nat laughed and patted her friend’s head, “Sorry sorry. Anyways, we saw your signature and Wanda pointed out that if you were this good at sketching, you must’ve gotten your training from somewhere. So we went looking for an S. G. Rogers and sure enough, we found that you were a part of a New Upcoming Artists Exhibit and we thought it would be a cute way for you to meet back up again.”

Cute was definitely not the words that Y/N would describe it. She was panicking inside, overthinking every single detail of what had led up to this night. She had spent the last few weeks thinking that Steve probably hadn’t wanted to get to know her anyways, or else he would’ve asked for her number or something. But here he was, telling her he should’ve and… his main piece of his exhibit was a painting of her. How was she supposed to take this? She hadn’t seen any other paintings of girls… was she the only one? What was that supposed to mean?

Wanda reached out and nudged Y/N’s shoulder, “Well you two should talk. Nat, why don’t we go and look at the rest of the exhibits?”

“Sounds brilliant,” Nat grinned and the two linked arms, giving little waves to Y/N as they disappeared.

Steve and Y/N looked at each other, both obviously unsure of what they should say. Y/N let her eyes drift to the painting in question, unable to help the blush growing on her cheeks as she admired it. Steve had painted her standing there with a bright smile on her face, as if she was smiling at the person looking at the painting. You could see the bottom of the Eiffel Tower behind her and Y/N blushed, realizing that she had taken the main spot of the artwork, rather than the Eiffel Tower like in his sketch.

“I know it must seem so creepy-” Steve stammered out nervously, clearly kicking himself for having it up as the centre of his exhibit. “I just… it was one of the few artworks that really evoked something in me and I just couldn’t let it sit in my room gathering dust-”

“It’s gorgeous, Steve,” Y/N told him with a smile. She looked up at him and almost regretted it, seeing those blue eyes again. He was so handsome and it certainly wasn’t helping that he seemed to fill out his tux so well. “You made me look really pretty.”

“I was only painting what I see, doll,” Steve chuckled. “While Wanda and Nat were taking pictures of us on their phones, Bucky and Sam had snapped a couple from theirs. I’ve been staring at them nonstop,” he admitted sheepishly. “You were all I could think about when I got back.”

Y/N was almost positive she was dreaming. She had dreamed about Steve before, sure, and he was usually doing this whole confessing attraction thing, so this had to be a dream right? She moved her hand to her arm, pinching it gently and wincing. Her eyes looked back up at him and she bit down hard on her lip. Not a dream.

“By the way,” Steve started, taking one of her hands and holding her at an arm’s length, “You look… like a work of art.”

Y/N wondered if he knew her whole body was heating up as his eyes examined the way the dress hugged her body. “S-Stop staring,” she swatted at him quickly, blushing. “We’re here to look at your art, not me.”

“I’d much rather look at you,” Steve laughed but led her for a closer view of his centrepiece of art. Y/N got so entrapped looking at it, she almost forgot the lurking press. “I’m sorry about them, by the way,” Steve leaned in and murmured to her. “Tony’s a part of a really wealthy family and his family are really into art… they’ve been really supportive of me and my works so they thought some reporters would help get my name out there.”

Y/N smiled and nodded, guessing that it was Tony then who had made the announcement to save her and Steve from the insane reporters.

“Sir, if you don’t mind-” one of the reporters spoke up, holding up his camera. They all flocked in eagerly, waiting for Steve to give the ‘ok’.

Steve looked down at Y/N with a shy smile, “You got all dressed up, doll. I’d hate to have no photos of it.”

Y/N smiled and nodded slowly, deciding that tackling these people with Steve by her side was a lot easier than doing it on her own. Steve gave a nod to the reporters, stepping in closer to Y/N for the photos. He let his hand touch the back of her waist, as if worried he would cop a feel and she would be uncomfortable.

After a while of smiling and posing, Steve made a couple of jokes with her about wishing his art got phtoographed this often, his eyes still fixated on each camera. She laughed and couldn’t help but look up at him, her gaze trying to memorize every piece of his face. Her lips tingled slightly, as if reminding her of the reason they had met in the first place.

“Steve?” She whispered with a smile.

“Mm?” Steve’s blue eyes moved to meet hers, flashes still going around them.

“I think it might make my ex-boyfriend very jealous to know that I was a muse in an art exhibition.” Y/N stated with a smile, trying to press down the giggles bubbling in her throat.

Steve let out a laugh, making Y/N’s heart skip a beat or two, “Oh yeah? You’ll have to get some of those photos then.”

“We could make him more jealous though,” Y/N hinted at, her mind racing at her sudden surge of confidence.

Steve blinked at her, a little surprised at the suggestion, “You mean-”

“Will you kiss me, Steve?” she whispered, biting down on her lip slightly. “I promise I won’t run away with your sweater and art this time.”

Steve didn’t need to be asked again. He turned to face her, his one arm wrapping around her while his other hand reached up for her chin. Y/N felt the memory of their first meet flood back to her, “You better give me your number after this. Or my mom will have a field day,” he whispered into her lips before kissing her deeply.

Steve felt all of his worries and nerves sink into that kiss, only to be filled with a sense of belonging. He barely knew the girl but Steve hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her since Paris. He was so in love with this girl, he couldn’t help but feel like Fate had put them in Paris at the same time for a reason. Kissing her again in the museum, at this moment, Steve was sure of that reason.

** ** ** ** ** ** **

I hope you guys enjoy this!! It’s probably one of my absolute favourites fics that I’ve ever written!

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