#spade n burner

[spadenburner]

"You're beautiful!"

Said a fan of Kid meanwhile give a shy slime to him.

Kaitou paused, caught off guard for a moment, before he smiled and bowed. "Thank you! It's not everyday somebody compliments an international jewel thief such as myself." He looked up from the bow at the fan with a curious gaze, before glancing side to side. It wasn't the most crowded district, so perhaps he had some time before his escape...? "Who might you be, if you don't mind answering?"

[erenscoochdestroyerfics]

Eren x Armin x Reader Friday Night Strip Poker (1)

words: 3.1k

concept: your good friends Eren and Armin are tight as thieves, and one night as you play strip poker, some tension arises and is resolved with another type of group activity...

contains: oral (f/m receiving), slightly sub!armin, slightly dom!eren, slightly domineering reader, threesome (MMF), cucking

y/n uses she/her pronouns and has female anatomy!

artwork does not belong to me, so creds to the artists!

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"You know, you look really nice in that new shirt." Eren smirks.

You are taken aback by Eren's forwardness. You, him, Armin, and Mikasa had shopped in Shiganshina Center yesterday, and you had gotten the shirt from a little boutique. It was a little black ribbed top with grey stitching. I might just have to fuck you right here, Mikasa had said when you stepped out of the dressing room, eliciting hearty laughs from Eren and Armin, and a flustered chuckle from you. There was always a little bit of homoeroticism between you and Mikasa, which is something you decided to put on the back burner when you noticed it a couple weeks before. Besides, she was in a relationship.

It was Friday, and tonight, it was date night for Mikasa and Annie, leaving you, Eren, and Armin to hang out at Eren's apartment in downtown Shiganshina. It was a perfect summer evening; the smell of food floated through Eren's open window from the restaurant below, and the bustle of the street below was faintly audible.

You guys decided to have a game night with some karaoke, and were currently playing Eren's favorite card game, Egyptian Rat-screw, which with these two stubborn boys, gets violent.

A queen of hearts was dealt, then a three of spades, then another queen.

"SANDWICH!" You all yell in unison, slamming your cards down onto the pile. Of course, Eren's card landed first. His fast reflexes were hard to compete with for you and Armin.

"Damn you, Eren!" you yell, and the three of you fall into a heap of laughter.

"More drinks?" Eren offers.

"Such a good host." You tease.

You and Armin sit cross legged watching Eren as he pads across the floor and into the kitchen to pour three glasses of piña colada mixer and add a generous amount of liquor to each.

"Thank you," Armin smiles sweetly as Eren hands him the drink. "My god Eren, bleh." Armin crinkles his nose as he tastes Eren's concoction.

You and Eren laugh softly.

---

Twenty minutes later, the three of you are tipsy messes, with flushed cheeks and easily elicited laughs. There is a warmth in your stomach that usually comes with drinking, which always results in you being a little too flirtatious for your own good. And you had an idea.

"You know what we should play?" You giggle.

"What?" Eren and Armin perk up.

"Strip poker!" You announce, giving jazz hands to accompany your grand idea.

Armin crinkles his nose. "I don't know if thats a good-"

"YES," Eren interrupts, "now THAT sounds like fun!"

"Eren," Armin quickly glances to you before looking back to him, "are you sure this is a good idea-"

"PLEASE pleasepleasepleasepleas-" you playfully beg.

"Yeah, c'mon Arm', it'll be fun." Eren reasons.

"Okay, okay," Armin raises his hands in defeat. "Every time you lose a hand, something comes off, deal?"

"Deal!" You and Eren agree in unison.

You lose the first hand. And the next. Armin loses three in a row, taking off his socks and shirt. Eren loses four, stripping to only his boxers.

The thing is that it was summer, and you had worn sandals to the hangout. You didn't have two buffer losses to be used on your socks, so you were in your bra and underwear. You wish you had worn cuter underwear, but your bralette made your tits look amazing, which you reasoned made up for it.

What you don't notice at that moment is Eren and Armin's frantic exchanged glances, as Armin wiggled around trying to prevent his cock from hardening. He was lucky he still had his pants on, or it would be clear as day.

It could have been the way you were cutely sitting with your legs folded under you and your hands in your lap, accentuating your figure. Or, it could be related to the fact that Armin had harbored a crush on you for years, starting in high school and lasting through college.

All that mattered at that moment, though, was the curve of your supple thighs that Armin and Eren could practically taste, and the upward inflection of your voice when you laughed, which they both had only dreamed of hearing in a less platonic context.

Armin jumped when he looked up from his rearranging of his pants to see you staring right at him.

"Shit, you startled me," his voice grew small.

Your eyes flitted up and down his figure before a huge smile of realization creeped its way onto your face; he was getting hard!

"Armin..." you cooed, voice low and sensual; "are you..." your eyes locked onto his bulge.

"Ummmmm, uh," He stammered. "I'm... I'm sorry." He looked down.

"Don't be," You felt a familiar tingle between your legs. Whether it was flattery or plain old arousal you didn't know, but this intrigued you. More than that- you liked that he was getting hard just by seeing you in your underwear. You wanted him to be all flustered and sensitive by just looking at you; It excited you. Your next thought came bubbling up out of your subconscious like an instinct, and you immediately knew what you had to do next.

You scooted closer to him. "Armin, can I...can I see it?"

How could he resist such a polite request from such a pretty girl?

"What? Um, uh," Armin's face was beet red, and the blush was creeping down his chest. "Uh, like, d'you mean, it it?"

"Your dick." You said plainly, smiling with anticipation.

Eren looked on in entertained awe, not just at the situation, but your sudden boldness. "C'mon Armin, let's see it."

"Uhm," Armin smiled nervously. "Okay, I- I guess," He slipped his pants over his hips and his cock sprang upwards, pulling the fabric of his underwear taut. You smiled wider. He pulled them all the way off and discarded them to the side.

All of that just from seeing you? Your heart swelled with pride. You needed more.

"Can I come closer?" You earnestly awaited a response.

"Uh-" Armin glanced at Eren, before hesitantly nodding. "Mhm".

You crawled the remainder of the distance to him, keeping your eyes locked on his. Once you were in front of him, you folded your legs underneath you and looked at the bulge beneath his underwear. Not many details were visible under the fabric, but one thing was clear: he was big.

"Such a pretty cock," You muttered under your breath.

"Oh fuck," he exhaled; his dick twitching in response to your compliment.

So that's what he was in to. In hindsight, it made total sense.

You laughed sweetly. "So you're into praise, hm?"

Armin was taken aback at how quickly you figured him out, and his blush grew even deeper. "Oh, uh, I mean, I don't really kn-"

"Kiss." Eren interrupted. His voice was commanding and low- this was a side of him you hadn't seen before, but you didn't dislike it.

"Just shut up and kiss already." He cleared his throat.

Although Eren was sat about three feet away from you and Armin, his voice sounded like it was right next to you, which sent a spark of electricity to your lower stomach.

You and Armin glanced at him with surprise initially, before seeing the expression on his face. His cock was semi-hard, and his eyes were dark with lust. You looked back to Armin, whose eyes were already on your face.

You cupped his left cheek and brought your lips forward, stopping just shy of his own before closing your eyes.

A moment later, you felt him tenderly kiss your bottom lip. You reciprocated, beginning to kiss him softly. You climbed onto the edge of his lap, straddling his lower thighs, and wrapped your arms around his neck. A moment later, you felt his tongue; he was hesitant at first, but grew more confident each second that passes.

You groaned lightly.

Kissing Armin felt so fucking good; so much better than you ever would have expected. It's not like he was unattractive by any means whatsoever; in fact, he was an objectively beautiful person. You had thought about him in passing for as long as you could remember; sometimes imagining him late at night when you were alone in your room. You imagined kissing him; feeling him below you; kissing his neck; getting him hard; and making him come. But you could never let it become a full blown crush, because he was your friend. Attraction between friends is normal, you had told yourself. You just need to keep it under control. However well you managed it, you had always felt a twinge of jealously whenever he would hook up with other girls in college.

Now, you were kissing him. In real life. And it was so damn good. He kissed you like his life depended in it; like you were his one true love, and he had waited a century to taste your lips. He kissed you like you were the most precious thing in the world, and it was making you dizzy.

A minute or two later, you were sat further up his thighs than before, your hands were in his hair, and your tongue was in his mouth. His hands moved from your waist to your hips to your thighs as he played with the soft flesh.

You two hear Eren groan, unable to stop himself from audibly expressing his arousal at the sight before him.

"God, you guys, that is so. fucking. hot." Eren breathes.

Armin groans; partially in response to Eren's confession, and partially in response to the fact that you had scooted further up on his lap, to the point where the tip of his dick was pressed nicely onto your clit through the fabric your guys' underwear. You rolled your hips once, pulling another noise from each of you.

It was like that for a little bit; you and Armin swallowing each others little noises as he guided your hips in their steady rotation, while Eren sat to the side, watching slack-jawed as he palmed his dick through his boxers. The little ball of white hot pleasure in your core was starting to increase in intensity with the friction of his cock pressing against you so nicely.

"Wait, we gotta stop, I'm- ah- i'mgonnacuminmypants," Armin manages to say in one breath, the end of which tended towards a whine. He stills your hips with his hands. You stayed on his lap for a second, clinging to him while you caught your breath.

"I guess it's my turn." You hear Eren propose. Always the problem solver.

"C'mere," Eren guides you up off of Armin's lap by your forearms and leads you to his bed. You feel his mattress pressing the back of your legs, and he lays you down gently. "Come sit, Armin."

Armin comes to sit on the bed next to you as Eren climbs on top of you, with his right knee in between your thighs, pressing against you. The friction on your clit as he moves around to settle sends a jolt of electricity from your sternum to in between your legs and makes your vision fuzzy.

"Ah," you moan softly at the stimulation.

"Already?' Eren laughs devilishly. "Armin, you really got her all hot and bothered, huh."

"Uh huh," Armin responds, sounding a bit dazed from the highly aroused state that your make-out session left him in.

"Can I kiss you?" Eren speaks lowly right up against your ear. You can feel the rumble of his chest as he does, sending another dose of arousal to swim around in your lower stomach.

"Please" You lament.

From the moment your lips meet, one thing is clear. Eren Jaeger is a damn good kisser. As a kisser, he is slightly more energetic than Armin, but not at all rough. He takes his time with you, licking and swallowing you up as you come undone beneath him. He makes you go cross eyed and limp with his magic tongue, and you feel close to coming un-fucking-touched.

One of his arms moves from beside your head and cups your waist, squeezing and kneading the skin. His knee between your legs presses so nicely up against your soaking cunt that you could cry. Or die. Or both. All that you know is that you could not possibly feel better than you do in this exact moment.

It is a couple seconds later that you are proven wrong.

"Can I play with your tit?" Eren breathes.

"Mhm" Your saccharine sweet voice slides like velvet past the ears and straight to the cocks of Eren Jaeger and Armin Arlert, leaving Armin groaning next to you two as he watches intently.

With his free hand, Eren cups your tit, massaging it and swiping his finger over your hard nipple through the thin fabric of your bralette. The sensation has you squirming and writhing beneath him, as he dips down to kiss your neck. He kisses down your neck, to your chest. Then your navel, to your belly button, to your lower stomach, before stopping.

"Can I go down on you?" Eren almost whines, his voice heavy with arousal.

"Oh god yes, please." You feel like you will explode if you are not touched soon.

"Armin, kiss her and play with her tit, hm?" Eren positions himself right in front of your pussy, placing your thighs on his shoulders. He presses his nose to the wet spot on the fabric of your underwear and inhales, before groaning and releasing a string of curses under his breath. God, you smell so fucking good, he whispers before beginning to practically make out with your throbbing cunt through your underwear.

"Oh- my- god!" You moan loudly in response to Eren hungrily licking at you. You vaguely sense Armin lean over you to kiss you, more sloppily now than before, as one of his hands snakes underneath your bra to play with your nipple.

"Let's get these off, hm?" You hear Eren say. You lift your hips in response as he slides the lime green underwear down your legs.

Armin's relentless swiping of your nipple has you dripping, and his lips on yours are making a wet, sloppy kissing noise. Which sends electricity straight to Eren's dick.

Eren runs his hands up your calf and pushes your leg up and out, kissing the crook of your knee as he does so. He squeezes the flesh of your thigh for a second, slowly making his way higher, before settling into the same position he was in before, with your legs over his shoulders and his face sitting pretty between your thighs. Armin had stopped kissing you to begin licking at your right nipple, while continuing to palm the left, giving you a clear view of Eren as he gazed at your cunt, slack jawed and breathing heavy.

Me mumbled something under his breath that you couldn't quite make out, something involving pretty and god and so fucking wet. He rested his head onto your left thigh like a pillow, while reaching out with his free hand to brush his fingers along the length of your outer labia. There was stubble, since you hadn't shaved since a couple of days prior, which heightened your sensitivity to the dragging of his fingers.

You were a moaning mess at this point; Armin's relentless stimulation of your nipples and Eren's teasing right next to where you needed him most had you choking back sobs of desperation.

"Eren, please!" You whined. You needed him to touch you and you needed it now.

You heard him chuckle and were about to reiterate before feeling him lick up through your folds, starting below your entrance and landing on top of your clit.

"You're so fucking wet," he mumbled, before beginning to lick at your clit. And it felt so indescribably amazing. You felt like you were on top of the world. On top of the universe even; you felt so good and full of white hot pleasure that you would burst if you didn't start to give some of it back. So thats what you did.

With your left hand buried in Eren's hair, your right was free to give some release to the trembling blonde boy hovering over your chest who was groaning at this point. You snaked your hand in between your bodies and down his torso until you felt him, rock fucking hard, beneath your palm.

As your hand made contact with the head of his cock he gasped, shock reverberating through his whole body. This was such a strong reaction from the smallest of touches. Seeing hearing and feeling how badly he needed you had you visibly smiling.

You began to sloppily jerk him off, and he was a blubbering mess, completely unable to do anything other than fuck himself sloppily into your hand.

Eren seemed to take notice of the blonde's reaction, quickening his tongues pace. You felt the tip of his middle finger dip into you shallowly, teasing for a moment, before going deeper. Once his knuckles were flush with your hips, he began tapping the sensitive place on your upper walls. White hot pleasure flooded your veins. This was so much better than when you did it yourself- he could reach deeper than you could, and was hitting the spot so perfectly that you knew you wouldn't last for more than a minute like this.

Everything became too much- the color in the room increased in saturation, the cacophony of sound around you- from the two boys, Eren's AC, and the street outside- became a symphony. The heat in your core climbed and climbed until it reached its peak.

You cried out in ecstasy as you came, with Eren groaning into the space between your thighs in response the sweet sound of your moans, and Armin letting some whines out as well.

You felt Armin tense up and come as well from the increased stimulation from your shifting around.

Fat tears rolled down your cheeks and your legs and torso spasmed as you rode out the high- with the help of Eren, who never faltered. As the waves of pleasure began to grow less intense and further apart, Eren dipped his head up to look at your face. He looked so pretty like that, with messy hair and his mouth and nose covered in your release.

He laughed, surprised at your tear ridden cheeks. "So you're a crier huh? Or was it just that good?"

"I don't usually cry," you lament, out of breath.

Eren smiled to himself at your indirect compliment.

You turned your head to look at Armin, who had slumped down onto your shoulder.

"Was that good, Armin?" You lightly patted the top of his head.

"M-hm." He nodded lightly.

Eren sat back onto his calves, which revealed his still rock hard cock pulling the fabric of his boxers taut.

"We gotta do something about that, huh?" You quipped.

"We don't have to, its okay-" he began.

"I want to." You gazed at him through your eyelashes.

"She's right, Eren." Armin piped in. "Let us help you."

You and Armin shared a knowing glance, before sitting up.

"This is going to be a long night isn't it." Eren muttered darkly.

"Yes it is." You said as you climbed onto his lap, with Armin close behind you to watch.

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Note: Okay this was a little rushed towards the end, but it was getting way too long for one part, so I guess this is part one of the Eren x Armin x Reader Friday night fun one shot!!

Also the use of Arm as a nickname for Armin is so unserious but I thought it was hilarious.

Anywaysss hope u like!

[twstbookclub]

Love in the dark

Summary: Having feelings for a delinquent is... hard. Having feelings for said delinquent and changing him for the better is worse. You thought he would've forgotten you, but even with your feelings in the dark, you had hope that he would. Pronouns: Gender Neutral POV: 2nd Admin/Writer: Kai⚔️ Tags: Deuce Spade, Deuce angst. very light angst, delinquent Deuce, open-ended, I could follow this up one day... could Word count: 3,458

A/N: I was g o i n g to post this one after the Parallel Lines fic, but I was way too excited to post about Epel and Azul angst(I was so proud of them), that I put this on the back burner. I know we had a 2 week post period and now I've left it for a month yes I KNOW, but I was trying to let this one take a while to post, because honestly... we have no content right now.

On a technical scale, we do, at least I do, I have like 2 of them in the basement ready to be edited and like 4 as WIPs, and I'm honestly writing other fics that aren't twst related(heh follow my personal Tumblr), but there's still things to do plus life stuff SO ty all for being patient !

Your home wasn't exactly in the best neighborhood. You had a parent who was barely around due to work, which meant you were home alone most of the time. You had some good entertainment, though. These poorly built apartments had thin walls, and you lived beside the one family that was a complete 180 from yours. 

The Spade family.

You didn't know them enough, but only a mother and son existed. It was the home of a short-tempered woman and a teen delinquent, but you knew the teen.

Deuce Spade, notorious for constantly yelling and leaving the house in the middle of the night after an argument, was the main piece for your noisy neighborhood. His mother had blue hair with blonde highlights, yet Deuce only had blond hair. He used to have naturally blue hair, though.

I mean, he is a delinquent.

His mother was sweet and patient despite her son's behavior. She made sure you would eat, have clean clothes, and a clean uniform. She was practically like your mother. She would sometimes invite you to stay over for dinner, and why not accept such a kind offer?

Plus, you liked seeing Deuce. The first time you saw him was the first day of middle school, and you caught him as you were leaving your home, his teal eyes stopping on yours for a few seconds. After the first day, you went home to see his mother waiting for you right by your front door.

That was when she found out that you often stayed alone at home, and she offered you a snack of peeled apples. Since then, she would sometimes knock on your door to ask to come over for dinner or help her run an errand, which resulted in you staying over.

This was one of those times. She invited you to have dinner with her since her son had left the house again, but you were studying at the table since your home was too quiet to concentrate.

“Uhm, Miss Spade—”

The door suddenly opened, revealing a beat-up Deuce with a scowl and torn-up clothes. His eyes instantly landed on you, and his scowl grew worse.

“What the fuck are you doing in my house—”

Smack!

Deuce's mom suddenly hit the back of his head with a rolled-up newspaper, with a scowl on her own face. “Don't curse in my house, you rude brat. They are my guest, and you will respect them.”

Deuce held the back of his head with a wince and growled, looking towards his mother. “Lady—!”

Smack!

“Quit that. I am your mother and not the one you're mad at. Leave the anger outside and get showered for dinner,” she said, dropping the newspaper on the counter to finish with dinner.

“Sweetie, could you help him out with those wounds?”

You perked up at Miss Spade calling you, and then you nodded and closed your books before standing up.

“Oh, and one more thing,” she says happily, smiling at you. “Just call me Dylla. No need for formalities.”

“Oh–Dylla…” You said carefully with a nod, then smiled back and went with Deuce for him to get ready for dinner. This wasn't the first time you've witnessed this; you already knew the familiar routine after doing this a few times.

You grabbed the first-aid kit and followed Deuce to his bedroom, being stopped at the door. “You thinkin’ to replace me as my mom's kid or somethin’? You got your own lonely house next door.”

You stared at Deuce for a moment and sighed before you smiled at him. “Not at all. Being around a good person feels nice, but you take that for granted,” you spoke confidently, giving him a pat on the cheek and handing the first-aid kit to him.

“If you want to be rude, tend to your own wounds,” you said and walked off, returning to the table to study and do homework despite hearing Deuce groan and slam his door shut.

When Deuce came back, he heard how much his mother was laughing with you and serving you a bowl of food with rice. Dylla hadn’t laughed that hard in ages, and you were all smiles, too. Deuce knew all too well how his mom had taken a liking to the neighbor’s child due to how much time they spent alone, but this was excessive.

You turned and saw Deuce standing there, and then Dylla served the rest of the bowls so everyone could eat. “I don’t understand why you want them here so much. Can’t they ask their own parents to cook for ‘em?” Deuce mumbled, sitting in his spot at the table.

“Because this is my house, kid. You are my child, and they are a child that needs care. Now, stop hiding that kind heart and eat,” she said, followed by Deuce groaning and starting to eat his dinner.

It was quiet, most likely because of your presence and Deuce's tension with his mother.  After everyone finished eating, you helped with storing food away while he washed the dishes. Dylla was gone to buy fruit and snacks, leaving you and her son in awkward positions.

“Hey?” Deuce called, his voice a bit guilty and quiet. The sudden voice spooked you, making you instantly freeze and look at him.

“Hmm? What’s up?”

Deuce turned off the sink and looked at you, looking regretful. “So, I had a pretty big fight with my mom and, you know, left the house. A few days ago, though, I heard her talkin’ to my grandma about how she thinks I turned out like this 'cause she didn’t raise me right or somethin’. So, I kinda wanna ask you for a favor.”

You looked at Deuce with a tilted head, shocked about how he was different after just a little while of being able to think. “Uhh, what’s the favor?”

“Help me get my grades up. I—” Deuce stopped, looking away from you and taking a breath. “I do love my mom, and I can’t stand seeing her cry like that over me. It ain’t her fault I became such a douche, either! I just—I don’t know.”

His statements and requests made you stop to think about what the hell he was saying to you right now. 

“I’ll do it,” you responded, giving him an honest smile. His eyes lit up and he grabbed you by the shoulders, getting excited at your response. “But you have to be committed to this.”

“Seriously!? Yes!” Deuce exclaimed, pulling you close for a random hug and you tried to push him back out of instinct.

You sigh and let him hug you from the side after a bit of fighting, giving in to his efforts. “We start tomorrow, but first, please get rid of that splotchy blond you got.”

Deuce let go with a raised eyebrow. “Tch. It’s a good blond.”

“It makes you look washed out, and you still have some roots showing, so it just looks like a bad job,” you responded, grabbing your study books and placing them on the table.

“Wh—Okay, yeah, maybe you’re right about the bad job,” Deuce mumbled in defeat while touching the dead ends of his hair. “Is it really that bad…?”

“Yes. Yes, it does.” You say and try not to laugh with a small chuckle escaping your mouth, Deuce starts to laugh at the same time and he gently hits your shoulder.

After that, you and Deuce spent day after day studying once you got to his place. It was hard at first since Deuce barely studied and he wanted to distract himself with other things instead of completing the textbooks. 

“Deuce.”

“What!? This stuff is boring! Why can’t they make learning fun or somethin’.”

You let out a sigh and tapped on the textbook page he was on, “Do the page or I tell your mom to cancel on getting you snacks later.”

In an instant, Deuce stopped his shenanigans like a child and got back to work. The sight was honestly funny.

The boy was stubborn, but it took time. You did like spending your days with him regardless. You got to see him in certain ways, like when he was asleep or concentrated, and you even had to start packing him lunch since he wanted to study with you at school, too. 

The classroom was quiet since you both retreated to the science lab for a quiet atmosphere, and you were picking at the rice in the lunch box that Dylla made for you while reading ahead in your notes.

You took a glance towards Deuce and saw him studying diligently. It was charming, even if it didn’t suit him well with that blond hair and the jacket he always wore with his group of friends. When Deuce looked over due to sensing eyes on him, he raised an eyebrow and set down his notebook.

“What's up with you?”

“Huh—” you let out, being caught off guard, “Oh, nothing. You just—you look like an honor student studying so well.”

Your comment made Deuce silent for a few seconds, but then let out a cheer for himself. The sound surprised you, but you remembered that he wanted to have the image of an honor student, so you made his day like that.

“That’s what I’ve been trying to achieve! Perfect! Ooh ooh! How about like this?” He suggested while leaning back and crossing a leg over the other, making himself appear focused.

His behavior only made you laugh, and he didn’t stop until the first bell rang. He tried to continue, but you had to remind him that class was soon, and a star student shouldn’t be late.

The exams went by, and the day the grades were posted was so loud in your neighborhood. 

Deuce ran over to your door and knocked until you opened up, and you were met with a picture of the exam grades on your face. He had made it in the top 60% of the year, meaning he could graduate without problems.

“Do you see this?! That’s what I could do!!” He exclaimed before picking you up for an excited hug. You didn’t have a chance to speak at all.

It made your heart warm to see him so happy.

He deserved it.

“I could only do it with your help.” He spoke more, finally calmer now that he could let it all out. He looked at you with a smile of appreciation.

You just stared at the behavior in front of you. It was so new and weird, but it felt right. He really did deserve this.

You caught yourself staring more and more in the silence, and your ears began to burn before you looked away.

Deuce was staring too, but when you looked away, he did the same with his cheeks growing flushed. Another new behavior.

“Uhm—” you started, trying to get your thoughts together fast enough. “I'm glad you did well, and that I could help with that. It seems you do… have the capability.”

There was a heavy tension. It was awkward. Deuce took a moment to look around through the silence and noticed the boxes around your living room.

You noticed and quickly made up something. “Oh—it's just my family wanting to put some stuff into storage for space.”

“Oh… I see. Well, uh, my mom also told me to let you know that we'll be going out to celebrate her next day off, and she wants to take you with us! So… there's that.”

“Gotcha. Thanks, Deuce.” You thank him before he leaves and you close the door behind him, letting out a quiet sigh before shaking your head.

When Deuce heard the door close, he clutched his chest and let out a breath, then quickly went back home as if he didn't notice that moment.

Over the weeks, Deuce's hair grew out and he got frustrated with its length. He wanted a change now that middle school was coming to a close and he would be going to a different school at Sage Island. 

When he returned home after school one day, you and Dylla looked at the door but suddenly froze. The blond went back to blue.

Your heart began to race as it felt like time had stopped, but you couldn’t stop thinking about one thing—

He looked… like the day you met him.

Whoa.

Deuce saw your expression and raised an eyebrow, staring at you in confusion. “What’s got you all spaced out? Oh, I must look that good if you’re staring!”

“Not at all. You look like you want to be gloomy,” you said sarcastically and turned back around to study. Dylla watched as she saw how you grew flustered.

Deuce’s mother laughed and went to go and mess up his hair by ruffling the strands, causing Deuce to get annoyed. 

“Mom, come on! I just got this done!”

“How can I not? My handsome young man is back!” She responded sarcastically and even attacked him in her motherly hugs for extra effect.

Listening to them argue and joke around was heartwarming, but you couldn’t interrupt them. You carefully got your things and left them to spend the day as a family, retreating to your house.

Deuce started to disappear more in preparation for his transfer to his future school on a whole other land, and you could feel a distance grow.

Deuce started to look more lively and he acted differently; yet still had his pumped personality, but he didn't have the time to spare you a glance anymore.

With Dylla working more to make sure she had the tuition for Deuce, she was gone too. Your apartment was starting to look more and more vacant as all of this went on, a clear sign of what was about to happen.

This was how it was supposed to go anyway. You were never meant to get this close to him. You were the one who kept to themselves. So, this was good. Right?

On the day before the graduation, Dylla suggested you and Deuce hang out and gave spending money as a way to make one last memory.

You let out a sigh as you sat on the blanket in White Rabbit Park, looking up at the colorful evening sky with its orange, purple, and peach hues coloring the clouds.

Deuce came up with a couple cold drinks and ice creams in a bag from the vendor nearby, but there was still that awkward tension.

You and Deuce hadn't talked since exams were over and he began to fix himself onto a better crowd, but now the inevitable was tomorrow.

After tomorrow, when would you ever see him again?

Your thoughts were cut off by the sound of Deuce opening a can of soda, which made you jump from surprise. Your reaction made Deuce laugh before he handed an ice cream to you.

You looked at it and your expression fell a bit. You didn't like this flavor anymore. You checked the other soda can too, but it was the same thing. Did he forget what you liked?

No.

He just hasn't been around to find out what your new palette is like.

You ate the ice cream anyway under the silence of the still sunsetting sky, not wanting his gesture to go to waste. It made you feel guilty to reject something he bought for you.

“So, tomorrow is the day.” Deuce spoke after a long silence and by this point, the moon was already out to say hello for the night. 

Neither of you looked or spoke to each other, finding it too nerve-wracking to do it.

“It is, but it was a good time.” You responded with a small smile, feeling a lump in your throat starting to form.

“It was. Thanks for helping me study and getting me to where I am right now.”

Deuce looked at you shortly after, and your head instinctively turned to return his gaze. His eyes were filled with slight regret, but also had gratitude.

“It's not a problem at all. Really.”

It was silent again with stares that could pierce the heart, but he walked you home after a short moment.

“See you.” You said, watching him get to his own door.

Deuce looked at you and let out a chuckle, “See you tomorrow.”

He was right next door, but seeing him walk off like that made it seem as if he was farther than usual.

You felt your eyes water with every step you took inside your home, being met with more emptiness.

By now, your home was as empty as could be for someone who was also moving away. You stood in the middle of the box-covered living room and let out a sigh of defeat, knowing that tomorrow was inevitable.

At the ceremony, some cried and some were happy to leave, but your eyes could never stop glancing at Deuce, who looked stoked to graduate now that he had his diploma in hand. It was nice to see him like that after the trouble he put himself through.

The day went by without a single worry and all its students were just as carefree. They were happy to now move on to the next chapter. You stood at the school gates with your diploma and a small flower bouquet that Dila got for you as congratulations for your hard work.

You watched as Deuce and his mother spent their time together, and you were waiting for your own parent, yet they never showed up to anything. As you decided to leave, Deuce called out to you and ripped the second button off his uniform, placing it in your hands.

Your eyes widened as you looked at him, “Wh—what?” was all you could mutter out of your shock. 

“To… remember me, I guess. Thank you for helping me get there,” Deuce said, then he gave you a smile and went back to his mom.

You were left speechless but were slowly overshadowed by a wave of sadness. This was one of the last times you’d see him. He was moving away to go to a school on Sage Island, and you were moving to be closer to your soon-to-be high school.

But they didn't know that.

That button was the closest to his heart, and it’s known that most give it to the person closest to them. You let out a small laugh before sighing, and then after taking one last look, you left the campus.

Deuce headed up to your apartment door and knocked, a bit nervous as he knew that giving you the button was risky on his end, but he knew what he felt.

He listened, but no one opened the door. He kept knocking with a look of confusion, but still no answer.

He grew worried, so he put his hands on the doorknob to see if it was locked.

“It's open…?” Deuce said to himself before he went in. He was met with nothing.

Not a sound.

Not a noise.

Not a soul in the home.

It was dark, but everything began to click in mere seconds. Before Deuce knew it, he ran back into his home and tried to call your old phone number, but nothing went through.

You were gone, and he didn't know if that was the last.

The weather had then changed from spring to summer, followed by fall, until the days started becoming darker a lot earlier in accordance with winter. You were cleaning a cup at a restaurant job you picked up, and it was almost time to close. The seating area had a few people, but it was normal for a weekday.

You started to reminisce about your high school days and how everything was back then. It gave you a smile to remember that boy. You had your own changes to your appearance since then, but you were still the same.

The dinging of the door caught your attention and cut off your train of thought, giving a smile to greet anyone who just came in, “Welcome in! Take a s—”

Silence.

Your breath hitched as you saw the pair of eyes you were just thinking about.

His own reaction showed a bit of surprise, but he looked unfazed. Unchanged from the seasons that have passed.

He looked the same to you, and you were the one who changed this time.

“You—” followed by a pause, not knowing how to continue.

The boy gave you a warm smile as he kept standing at the door and had his hands in his pockets. He came up closer to the counter before he sat down.

“Hey.”

[undyingghoul]

can I have a fanfic where Sodo gets sick n the reader has to look after him 👉🏻👈🏻

ANOOOOOON I LOVE THIS IDEAAAAAA!! Giving you hugs and pats for this amazing idea rn --------

Pairing: Dewdrop x AFAB!Reader

Warnings: Suggestive remarks (once or twice only- It's Dewdrop, what do you expect?)

Title: In Love And Sickness

Summary: Dewdrop woke up one morning feeling awful and he later concluded that he caught a cold. You made it your mission to help him feel better.

“A-A-Achoo!” Dewdrop sneezed so hard he tumbled out of bed. He let out a loud and nasally groan, sniffling a bit but not being able to get much air in through his nose. That confirmed it for him. He had caught a cold.

From up on the bed you peeked over the edge down at your boyfriend. “Dewy?” You asked gently and watched the fire Ghoul push himself up slowly. “Ugh…” He groaned again, crawling back into bed and curling up in the blankets and against you. It was then that you felt how hot he was. “Satanas loves me, you’re burning hot, Dew!” You blurted. Dewdrop snuggled into you more and coughed a bit. “Yeah, I think I caught one of your stupid human viruses…” Dewdrop mumbled.

You hummed and took him into your arms. “Well, it’s a good thing I’m here to take care of you, my flame!” You said sternly. “It’s like a mother taking care of her child… Does that mean I should call you mommy?” Dewdrop teased with a hoarse chuckle before coughing again. You rolled your eyes and got off the bed, making Dewdrop whine before you picked him up and carried him to the bathroom attached to his room. Even though Dewdrop was sick you should’ve known he’d still make his suggestive remarks. It’s Dewdrop you’re talking about here.

“What are we doing in here?” Dewdrop asked when you brought him into the bathroom. “So I know Ghouls and humans are vastly different but for us humans a nice warm bath usually helps with any sickness. The warmth and steam loosen everything in your head and nose and the warm water just feels nice,” You explained to him as you stood him up to get the water running for him. Dewdrop smiled a bit before he sneezed again, his tail shivering behind him before the spade of it smacked his back a bit in annoyance.

You giggled at the action. “I swear your tail has a mind of its own, Dewy,” You laughed as you started the water and continued to check the temperature until you knew it was perfect for Dewdrop. Besides, if it was too cold he could always warm it up himself. Dewdrop slowly started to take off his clothes, not realizing just how soaked they were with sweat. He tossed the clothes aside and got into the tub, sinking down and letting out a delighted chitter at the warm water hitting his skin and enveloping him. A little bit of his stuck out of the water and it started to wag with joy, making you chuckle a bit. “See what I mean?” You asked as you sat beside the tub with him. “Oh yeah, I see it,” Dewdrop said as he started to purr. He took his hand out of the water and reached for your hand, letting him grab it and pull you closer to him. You let him rest his head on you and a little more of his tail came out of the tub to wrap around your arm loosely.

You stayed in there with him for at least twenty minutes before deciding to make him some chicken noodle soup and saltine crackers for when he was done. “I’ll be right back, Dewy, I’m gonna make you something to eat. It won’t take me long, I promise,” You told him, letting go of his hand and shaking off his tail. He didn’t want you to leave him but he nodded anyway. “Be quick,” He huffed. “I will love, I promise,” You reassured him and pressed a kiss to his head before making your way to the kitchen.

The kitchen was empty when you got there and you hummed a soft tune as you got a kettle out and grabbed a can of the good kind of chicken noodle soup. Setting the kettle down you turned the burner and opened the can, dumping the contents of it into the kettle and then throwing the can away. You grabbed a thermos from the cupboard and set it out for later. Moving to the pantry you went in and looked for the saltine crackers and grabbed them once you found the box. You pulled out an already open package of saltines and put the box back before coming back to check on the soup. Seeing it start to bubble a bit you knew it was warm enough and turned the burner off and carefully dumped the soup into the thermos. You twisted the cap on, grabbed a spoon, and promised yourself to clean the kettle later as you made your way back to Dewdrop with the soup and crackers.

“Dewdrop, I’m back!” You announced once you entered his room, seeing him curled up on his bed patiently waiting for you. When he saw you his tail started to thump against the bed and he forced himself to sit up. He let out a chitter and you gave him the soup, spoon, and crackers. “Not that I need to warn you but the soup is hot, be careful,” You said as Dewdrop took everything from you and opened the thermos and crackers. He sniffed the soup and licked his lips before starting to eat the soup. Loud rumbling purrs left him and his tail only thumped harder against the bed and you giggled, sitting next to him and pressing a kiss to his cheek.

Once he had finished the soup and the saltines he reached around you to put everything and the nightstand before snuggling into you. “You are the best mommy I could’ve ever asked for,” He cooed with a teasing smirk and you gently flicked his head. “Oh, Dewdrop, even when you are sick you are still your normal, horny self.”

[bitofthisandthat]

@gamblealife​ said: 9 & 11 for Negs ~

Random questions for my Muses!

[ 9 ] What body language or mannerisms does your muse show when they’re nervous, angry, sad, shy and happy

He’s “Mr. Emotions-Do-Not-Play-It-Cool. EVER.” So it’s always obvious what he’s going through when he’s in extreme moods. It’s harder to know what’s going on with him when he’s in hiding, brooding, or quiet. Those are the mystery times. So when he’s Nervous, he paces angrily and throws things around, same when he’s irritated. But if he’s trying to keep himself under control, he’s tapping his foot excessively and grumbling under breath. Angry, there’s no doubt in the universe there. He’s LOUD, nasty, and screams at you in gross detail at just how furious he is. And if there’s any doubt he’s playing? The violence begins. He usually growls and starts low first before he goes berserk. But his temper? Legendary. Sad...well, you won’t be seeing that on public display. He goes underground and holes away. He’s despondent, silent, and brooding. He can go days with barely a word.

Shy? He doesn’t know that word. He’s all out, baby. Zero shame.

Happy for Negaduck is MANIA personified. He’s overly gleefully, laughs crudely at others’ misfortunes, and just emotes at the same volume when he’s mad, just in opposition. However, there’s still a snide sarcasm to his happiness. If it’s real happiness, he’s more subtle, less grouchy and almost NORMAL.

[ 11 ] What are small ways your muse shows affection for those they care for?

One, he sticks around. Also, if he cares for you, you don’t have to hunt him down first, he comes to you: at all hours, in any state of mood, disarray, or stability. He may not apologize directly for his absences or arguments, but he does pair them down to half-hearted fights and fake disagreements. He will gift offhandedly and at random times---be it stolen merch or cash. He doesn’t like to gift after a fight, because he knows that’s a murky area and he only uses that kind of manipulation on molls he doesn’t intend to see again after a month or two. And if he knows he’s going to be missing in action for awhile ( prison pending, a scheme, or Negaverse trips ) he makes sure you have guns, weapons, contacts, and a lock box full of cash hidden in your place “just in case,” plus a burner or two. He will also GUT anyone that harms, or attacks you. But the true test of Negaduck’s elusive affections is how he allows more of his life to be revealed to you, and he will become more and more honest. He’s a liar and a con by profession, but if he cares, you will know more and more truths about himself and how he conducts his days as time wears on. A thing I discovered about him after writing him in ships, is that he tends to use your REAL name/s, but is careful when he does. ( Because usually he “respects” your anonymity if you have it ) 

If you’re in a sexual and romantic relationship, all of the above applies in spades. He’s already got a pretty hyped up libido, but if he thinks of you as more than a lay, he’ll be back. A lot. But in addition, instead of falling right to sleep after sex ( or him leaving after ) he will stay the night and eventually....let the cuddles happen. He will tantrum weakly over it for awhile, but soon, he will cave into the softness and be  g e n t l e  afterwards, and yes, he may initiate it often.

[the-blind-assassin-12]

I Bet You Can

A/N: SOOOOOO. Sorry it’s taking a year and a day to get through these smooches. I’m working on multiple at once...but this one REALLY wanted my attention so here it is. This one is set in the Oblivion/Simplify story line, roughly around the first week of September- about three months in to #LakeLife. Counting down the lip locks. This is #12. 8 down, 11 to go! 

Warning: SMUTTY ZESTY COWBOYISH TIMES. 

Word Count: 2,025

Prompt from : @suchatinyinfinity who asked for Logan/ a bet/ in the kitchen. I see  your wager, Dani, and I raise you a smut. 

The rain lashed against the windows for the fourth consecutive day, steadily increasing just like the forecast predicted. Neither of you had much experience with long lasting rain storms like this one having lived most of your lives in drought ridden California, but the late summer deluge currently delivering water, wind and even hail was apparently something you’d have to get used to in your new home. You hadn’t been able to go for your usual hikes through the surrounding woods as even though the thick green canopy would likely keep you dry, the wind was bringing down branches and the potential for lightning was increasing by the minute. Logan had been kept from his daily laps in the lake, and because of that more than just the air was buzzing with electricity.

You’d tried to focus as much of your extra energy on preparing for the eventuality of losing power. You filled pitchers and containers with water, because losing electricity meant losing the well pump, found candles and matches, brought the firewood in from its spot on the porch, and located the lantern. Logan took care of the outdoor responsibilities, securing the outer shutters and gathering up all the outdoor furniture and tying it together. He moved it under the cover of the porch, threw a tarp over the bundled chairs and lounges and weighed it down with a few heavy rocks he’d carried up from the shore. By the time he got back inside he was soaked to the bone, and you pulled your bottom lip between your teeth to keep from smiling at the disgruntled look on his face. 

“Everything good out there, Logan?” you asked sweetly, stirring the pot of soup and the pent up energy you knew he was brimming with. 

He peeled his drenched shirt off, wringing it out over the sink, and you caught the muscles in his arms and shoulders flex as he twisted the material. Water dripped down his neck from his hair and you watched a few droplets travel the length of his back before soaking into the dark denim of his jeans. Goddamn. You had to force yourself to focus on what you were doing before he turned around. If you’d still been looking when his chest and stomach came into view you’d have been unable to stop yourself from running your hands over every rain slicked inch. 

“Everything’s tied up,” he draped the wrung out tee around his neck. Logan took two steps before you felt his hands on your hips and his lips behind your ear. His skin was chilled from the rain, but his breath was hot as he spoke. “How bout you?” Goosebumps ran up and down your arms as he kissed the back of your earlobe. “Need me to tie you down so you don’t blow away?” 

You leaned back against him, not caring about your top getting wet. Not going to be wearing it for very long anyway. His thick arms came around your midsection. You hummed in satisfaction as your eyes slid closed. You knew that Logan’s arms had held plenty of bodies both human and Host, but the way that he tightened his hold, the way that he tried to always get you as close to him as possible, the subtle change in his breathing and the beat of his heart that you felt; that you knew was something that only ever happened when he held you, and without a doubt you knew that you were the only thing he wanted to hold this close ever again. “No need,” you answered him, “I’m never going anywhere.”

He sucked your earlobe into his mouth as you gasped his name. “Need and want are two different things.” His voice was gravelly and low, but burned like embers, like hot coals. 

They sure are. You let out an uneven breath as his wet fingers toyed with the hem of your shirt. The day that you met Logan you’d been playing a dangerous game that had almost caused you to lose him before he was even yours. But now that things had settled down and the danger had passed, the two of you had picked up the teasing games. Only now they were lighter, more fun, and no matter what, both of you always won. You swallowed hard. Two can play at this game, Logan. “You’re right,” you said, forcing some stability back into your voice as you resumed stirring the pot, his arms still around you, tongue still traveling up the helix of your ear, fingers tracing patterns on your abdomen. “You need to go shower if you don’t want to catch a cold.” 

He groaned as his teeth grazed the top of your ear. “You need to be stirring that right now? Or do you want to join me?” 

No. Yes. Let’s go. You propped the wooden spoon against the side of the hefty stock pot and turned in his grasp, feeling him loosen his hold. He was looking down at you through long lashes, lips parted as his tongue darted out to catch a droplet of water. You reached up to push a wet strand of hair away from his forehead, raking your fingernails gently along his hairline. His eyes narrowed as your other hand came up to the sparse smattering of dark brown hair on his chest, climbing up to the hollow of his throat. He let out a slow breath before he took your wrist, wrapping his long fingers around it easily and brought it up to lay a kiss to the inside. “Go shower, Logan,” your voice was soft through your smile. “I’ll be right here when you get back.” And you’re gonna love what I’ve got in mind.

He leaned forward, one cupping the back of your neck, the other still stroking your wrist. His lips found the top of your cheek, pressing a light kiss there as a clap of thunder shook the cabin. “Quickest. Shower. Ever.” he promised, his words reverberating against your rapidly flushing skin. He spun away then, and you felt yourself follow him as though there was an invisible string connecting his chest to yours. There is. 

“Logan?” You called after him, biting your bottom lip. He looked over his shoulder, one eyebrow raised questioningly, his smirk illuminated by the lightning that crept in through the cracks in the shutters. “Tick, tock.” 

He shook his head, laughing under his breath as you turned back to give the pot another stir. He disappeared into the bedroom, and you promptly turned the burner down to a simmer, closing the lid on the pot to keep the heat in. Crossing the kitchen, you opened the junk drawer and pulled out a small box with cards and poker chips in it, bringing it and the lantern over to the table. Once you heard the pipes shudder signalling the start of the shower, you slipped your sweatpants off and pulled your shirt-Logan’s, really- over your head, leaving both articles along with your underwear in a pile. You gave it a kick, stowing it all under the table before sitting down to shuffle the cards. Let’s play a game, cowboy. The lightning flashed again with a tear of thunder right on top as you flicked the well used playing cards between your nimble fingers, bridging and caging them until they were as mixed up as your mind whenever Logan looked at you. Dealing out two hands and distributing some chips, you crossed your legs, waiting for him to come back. 

Logan was true to his word about the length of his shower, coming back only minutes later wearing the warmth of the water and a loose-fitting pair of flannel pants. “Told you I’d be qui-” he came through the doorway and stopped in his tracks, eyes widening at the sight of you completely naked, hiding your face behind a fan of playing cards. “Oh...fuck…” You smirked at the surprise in his tone and lowered the cards to the table. “What’s this now?” he asked, completely intrigued and absolutely turned on. The sound of the rain picking up and the wind howling down the chimney filled the quiet room. 

You shrugged as he recovered, coming to sit across from you at the table. “Well,” you said, tabeling your cards face down so he couldn’t see your hand. “See I was bluffing when we met, Logan.” You shrugged as he licked his lips, using one hand to swipe his long hair back. “I don’t know how to play poker. So I thought you could teach me.” You pulled your shoulders back, showing off your chest and throat. 

You heard his breath become labored. “And...you thought the best way to learn was…” he gestured to your naked form, eyes running up and down every inch of you. 

You laughed, throwing him a wink, enjoying every minute. “Every time I’ve asked you to teach me you’ve suggested strip poker.” You rolled your eyes. “So I stripped. Now, can we get to the poker?” 

His sigh came out in the form of a growl. “How the hell am I gonna teach you how to play cards when you’re sitting there like that, huh? How’m I gonna look at you and keep my hands off you?” He reached across the table for your hand, but you quickly scooped up your cards, one cheek climbing up your face at his groan. 

“I bet you can, Logan.” You winked at him. “Now, should we make some wagers?” You picked up a few chips and tossed them into the center of the table, the plastic clinking together. 

“You’ve got a lot of faith in me,” he smirked, picking up his own hand, but you knew he wasn’t looking at his cards; that he had no idea if his hand was full of aces or spades or queens or diamonds. 

“I do, Logan.” The room filled with electric blue light as another bolt tore the sky and found its way through the slats around the windows. 

To Logan’s surprise, he actually talked you through a couple hands of poker, though he hardly peeled his eyes away from you, groaning every time you leaned forward to drop chips into the pile, or adjusted the position of your legs. About halfway through the game, your pile of chips waning and his growing substantially, the inevitable happened. With the loudest crack of thunder and the brightest bolt of lightning, the lights blinked out and you were left with just the glow of the lantern. 

“Power’s out,” you spoke the obvious, leaning in to keep the game going by the gentle glow of the lantern. 

But Logan had other plans. He dropped his cards carelessly, some of them landing on the table, others falling to the floor. “Sure is,” he stated, reaching for the knob to turn the lantern off. “And now I don’t have to look at you like that without doin this,” in one fluid movement, he was on his feet and around the table, dropping to his knees to take your waist in one hand and your face in the other. You felt your stomach flip as he crashed his mouth to yours hungrily. “All bets are off now, sweetheart,” he growled, lips locked to yours and tongue slipping into your mouth as another flash of lightning threw light against his skin, your skin, the cards on the table and the floor. He pulled you to him, standing with your body pressed tightly to his own, kissing you like he had that first night back in the park, back when you were playing with one another. But he wasn’t playing now, and neither were you. You didn’t care if the roof was split by lightning. You didn’t care if a tree crashed through the wall or if hail broke through the windows. You didn’t care if you never got power back, or if the storm never ended. All you cared about, all Logan cared about, was the fact that you had one another, that you were locked together, that nothing would ever change.

.

Let me know if you’d like to be added or removed from the tags: 

@something-tofightfor @its-my-little-dumpster-fire @suchatinyinfinity @agent-bossypants @lexxierave @thesumofmychoices @belladonnarey @ymariejp @obscurilicious  @ms-delos @songtoyou @gollyderek @traeumerinwitzhelden @breanime @drinix

[kpoprunsmylifenow]

I Wanna Make You Mine Chapter 3:

When you woke up, you realized that you weren’t still tied up in that chair. You sat up quickly, looking around to see that the room you were in was very bright. There was a light blue on the walls, the bedspread was a yellow color, and there was a window to your right. You tried to stand up, but your legs weren’t as strong as you though.

“You should be careful.” You heard from the door. You looked to see a guy with red hair leaning against the door. “Baron said you’re still gonna be weak for a little bit, but there wasn’t anything to bad.” You nodded as sat back on the bed.

“I need a phone.” You rasped, your throat really hurt.

“A phone?” You nodded.

“I need to call Jihun.” You said as you tried to stand up.

“You said that before you passed out. Why do you need to call him?”

“I need to tell him that I’m okay. They’re still looking for me and they need to know that I’m not dead.” You said as you fell, but the red haired guy caught you.

“So you must be in another group.” He said quietly.

“Sure, you could say that.” You groaned as you forced your legs to function.

“Are you high up in your group?” He asked.

“You should really tell me your name before you start asking me questions like that.” You said as you leaned against the wall to get to the stairs.

“Ziu. Now are you gonna tell me?”

“I’m pretty important.” You said as you started to make it down the stairs.

“Ziu! Why is she up?!” You heard someone yell from the bottom of the stairs. “You should really be resting.” He said.

“I need to call Jihun.” You repeated. The blonde man nodded at you and helped you to the kitchen. “Can I get some water?”

“Yeah. Here sit down, and here’s one of our burner phones. Call this Jihun guy and then that’s it.” You nodded. He handed you a cup of water and the phone. You made sure to drink the water before you called Jihun.

“What?” Jihun answered.

“Wow, glad to see you’ve been missing me.” You said as you looked at the blonde and Ziu talk.

“Y/N? Holy fuck, are you okay? Where are you?” You heard him grabbing things.

“Chill chill. I’m fine, nothing too bad. I honestly don’t know where I am, but a group came and attacked A.C.E while they had me. And no they aren’t holding me hostage either.” You then heard the phone being snatched from Jihun’s phone. 

“Y/N?” You heard Heejun’s voice.

“Hi Junnie.” You smiled a little. “I’m okay. I’ll be home before you know it.”

“Okay. Can we come get you yet?” You laughed.

“Not yet. There are some things I need to settle first and then I’ll be back.” You heard him whine before the phone was taken again.

“Just tell us when you need to be picked up and where.” Jihun said as he probably herded Heejun towards Seoham more than likely. 

“Will do.” And then you hung up. Dropping your head on your arms, you held out the phone for the 2 boys in front of you.

“Our leader wants to talk to you.” You heard someone say from the doorway of the kitchen.

“Okay.” You said as you stood up. Groaning as your legs started to give again.

“Here. I’m Baron.” You heard the blonde say, he was offering his shoulder.

“Thanks.” You entered the living room, where you saw 5 guys sitting. Sitting down in a chair, the other 2 went and sat down on the 2 open spaces on the couch. “Someone said the leader wanted to talk to me.”

“Yes, and that would be me.” A man with tattoos said. “Well, first, why did A.C.E have you?”

“Well, I am a high up in my group so.” You shrugged. “They’d been hitting our shipments. We went to go check it out and then they kidnapped me after crashing into us.”

“What’s your name and your position?” Ace asked.

“Y/N and I’m the leader.” You said as you sat back, crossing your legs. The look of surprise went over all their faces. “Leader?” You heard someone say.

“Yes leader. My group has been keeping it on the down low so that I wouldn’t be hit, but since you got me out of those dumbasses hands. So I figured you’d be granted the opportunity to know my position.”

“Who’s Jihun?” Someone asked.

“Jihun is the leader of my henchmen, and he’s my right hand.”

“So that’s why you needed to call him and tell him you were okay.” Ziu said.

“Yes. We grew up together, so we are all very close.” You said, not wanting to disclose any more information to these men.

“What’s your group name?”

“Spades.” You said as you leaned forward, the boys around you talk between themselves. “I have a couple of questions for you.” They looked at you hesitantly, now knowing your group and your position. “First, I wanna know all your names. Two, why were you attacking A.C.E? Three, why did you help me when you could’ve just left me there? And lastly, why did you take me to your base?”

“Well, you know some of us.” The man with the tattoos said. “I’m St. Van.”

“I’m Jacob.” The deep voice tall man said beside Ziu.

“You already know me.” Ace winked at you, you rolled your eyes.

“I told you my name earlier, but I’m Baron. Ayno was the one who helped you out of the chair the other day.” He said, pointing to the pink haired man that helped you last night. The man who’d been watching you from the corners of the room still hadn’t moved to say anything.

“What about you?” You asked as you turned towards him. He wasn’t in plain sight, but you had caught a look at him while you were coming down the stairs. The men around you were frozen as you addressed the hidden man.

“Lou.” He said quietly as he stepped out.

“How did you know he was there?” Ziu asked.

“Well, I knew there was 7 of you from last night.” You said as you turned back around. “But when we started to talk, there was only 6. Plus I saw him going this way when I was coming down the stairs.” You smirked at their shocked faces.

“I like her.” Jacob said and you laughed.

“To answer your second question,” St. Van started. “We also had some shipments and places being hit by them.” You nodded. You’d already knew that A.C.E had been hitting other group’s had been hit by them. “Your third question,” He looked over at Baron.

“I have a soft heart.” Baron smiled a little and rubbed the back of his neck. “And I couldn’t just leave you there knowing that all those bastards weren’t dead.” You nodded, looking out the window. You’ll get Jihun to send some guys to check the warehouse that you’d been in. “And we’re still pretty small. So we really didn’t have any choice because I can’t just leave you when you need to be actually patched up and get some stitches. So I convinced Van to bring you here and that if you caused problems I’d be the one to kill you.”

---

You eventually ate, and took a nap because you HAD been tourtured for a fucking week. You did get to call Yongguk and tell him to get Jihun to get some guys over there to A.C.E’s warehouse to check and see what they could find out more info on these guys. You knew they were down some important people, you’d killed the leader.

You’d actually grown close to Ziu and Baron. They were surprisingly funny, and Ziu reminded you of Heejun and Inseong. Ziu was very extra, making sure to make you laugh, even though it made your body ache and Baron to scold the two of you. But it was worth it in the end. Baron and Ace made sure to keep you company for the rest of your stay there. You found out that Ace ran their businesses. They had some clubs near where you had a few restaurants and a club. You figured out each of their separate roles within their group. Obviously St. Van was the leader, Baron was their medic, Ace dealt with their businesses, that included a couple of strip clubs, Ayno was in charge of drugs, Jacob ran their weapons trades, Lou was their resident assassin, and Ziu was their hacker. He was actually the one to send Ayno and Ace down to where he saw me on the CCTV.

“So when are you gonna allow me to go back to my own group?” You asked Baron a couple nights after you’d woken up.

“Well, all your wounds and stuff are healing well. It doesn’t seem like it’s gonna get infected.” He said as he checked on your wounds again. “So I would say that you’re good to go home.” He smiled at you. You nodded your head and walked to St. Van’s office. Knocking, you realized now that you hadn’t talked to him really during your stay here.

“Come in.” As you entered, you saw Lou coming around the corner, probably making sure you weren’t trying to kill their leader. “What can I do for you?” He asked as you sat down in one of the chairs that were in front of his desk.

“I’m wondering when you’re going to allow me to go home.” You stated. “Baron said that all my wounds are fine, so I was wondering how we’ll handle me leaving since I know where your base is and you know some sensitive information on me.” You crossed your arms.

“Well,” He paused and looked outside. “You can call your guys to meet up with us. We already know your men should be at the warehouse we took you from, so we can meet there. And since you don’t want us spilling your secrets, we can set up some sort of trade. Us to keep your secrets and you give us some supplies since we’ve both been hit by A.C.E.” You pondered the option for a minute, and eventually nodded.

“I’ll have to talk to some of my guys about the supplies, but sure.” He nodded and called for Lou.

“Go have all the guys get ready to leave. Our dear guest wants to go home.” Lou nodded and you got up, shaking St. Van’s hand.

---

“Y/N!” You heard Heejun yell and run to you. You smiled and braced yourself for him to hit you, knowing that Jihun or Dongwon wouldn’t have time to grab him.

“Hi Junnie.” You smiled as he hugged you tightly.

“You’re not allowed to go anywhere anymore.” Inseong said as he patted your head. You gave a hug to the rest of the guys, including Jihun even though he complained.

“Jihun, you can’t act all tough now. We know you missed me.” You laughed and winked at him, looking up at the warehouse you’d been in. “Did you search the whole warehouse?” 

“We did.” Inseong said as he eyed the men behind you. “We found some stuff, it’s back at base.” You nodded and turned to look at the men you’d been with for the past couple of days.

“I’ll make sure to contact you about that deal.” You said, the men behind you looking at you quickly. St. Van nodded and you walked away, Jihun steadily asking you questions. “Also,” you turned just enough to see them over your shoulder. “You say anything and I’ll make sure not even the dogs can find you.” And you continued to the car where you started explaining what happened after you’d been kidnapped.

[ladywinchester1967]

All I Want for Christmas Is You

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Josie (OFC)

Warnings: FLUFF OF DOOM.

A/N: I never write anything for Christmas....mainly because I’m a Grinch. HOWEVER, one of my favorite writers on here @ravenangel33 wrote THIS AMAZING PIECE that inspired the work below. If ya’ll haven’t checked her out, you need to. She is amazing!! Per usual, unbeta’d, all mistakes are mine, but pics are NOT!

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

I always dated for love, hell, I did everything for love. I stayed with my ailing parents until they were well because I loved them. I looked after my sick sister when she had a newborn because I loved her and the baby. I moved to the geographical middle of the United States for love. Not the love I ever envisioned mind you; when I pictured Prince Charming, he always had a white horse, a castle in the clouds and a charming smile.

Well, I got one thing right, the charming smile.

At six foot one, with broad shoulders, brown hair, enviable green eyes a reddish brown five o’clock shadow, wearing a canvas jacket, a plaid shirt, jeans and heavy boots; Dean Winchester wasn’t the man I pictured falling in love with. But after he sliced the head of a vampire that nearly ripped my throat out, I couldn’t help but have some kind of affection for the guy.

After the vampire thing and a speech about how monsters were real and that he and his brother hunted them, he took me out for a drink. Which turned into both of us laughing our asses off, which turned into a game of darts.

“All right sweetheart,” he said in my ear “one more shot between a win for me and a loss for you.”

“So cocky,” I said as I lined up my shot “what makes you think I’m gonna lose?”

“Because I can read people,” He crooned “you’re not confident in this shot.”

“Screw you.” I said and took the shot, which hit the bullseye. I laughed while he hung his head in defeat. I celebrated but wrapping my arms around his shoulders and kissing his cheek. The next thing I knew, we were back at my place, tangled up in the sheets.

I figured that would be the last I saw of him, but for some reason, I felt a connection with him. I knew he felt it too because he kept texting and calling at weird hours.

After a few months of this, I went to visit him at the bunker he and his brother, Sam, called home. Truth be told, it felt more like home than my place ever did. After that first visit, Dean asked me to move in.

“It feels, I don’t know, better when you’re here.” He said.

I agreed, I packed up my few personal items and moved into the bunker.

Five years later, here I was, decorating the bunker for Christmas again, making the post modern era bomb shelter light up with a little Christmas cheer.

“That time of year all ready?” Dean asked as he walked into the war room.

“Dean, Christmas is in two days.” I said from the chair I was standing on as I hung the last of the garland in the library.

“It seems to sneak up on me every year.” He said as he came up behind me.

I turned around as he opened his arms to help me get down. I climbed into his arms as he set me down on the floor, kissing my forehead.

“What do you want for Christmas this year?” He asked as he held me. It amazed me that the hands that could fix up his Chevy Impala in seemingly the blink of an eye, the same hands that cleaned a gum with military like precision, were the same ones that held me so gently and always brushed the stray hairs out of my face.

“The same thing I ask for every year,” I told him as I wrapped my arms around his middle and kissed the hollow of his throat “you.”

“You already have that,” he said “in spades.”

“Then I don’t need anything else.” I told him as I looked up at him. “We have a home, a family we’ve built, food in our bellies and clothes on our backs. What else could I want?”

He shrugged

“I dunno.” He said with a smile.

“Why? What do you want?” I asked him

“Come with me.” he said and took my hand, Walking me over to the Christmas tree. I begged and pleaded for a real tree. In the end, he caved, he couldn’t resist when I did my sad, pouty face.

I followed him over to the tree where it was set up by the stairs. In the light of the glimmering tree, we stood face to face, him holding both of my hands.

“This is what you want for Christmas?” I asked “Just you and me?”

“I want more than that,” he said “I want a life with you. A real life; with a home, a yard and as many real Christmas trees as you want.”

“But, how?” I asked, confused. For the last five years, everything I’d pictured about a normal life had been put on the back burner. The furthest back burner that there was, everything was put on hold for “the greater good”, the good of the world, the good of humanity, the good of everything. He gave me a wry smile and said

“I’m done,” his fingers carding through my hair “I’m tired of putting you in second place. I want to give you the world, I want to give you everything you’ve ever dreamed of. I don’t want to hunt any more.”

“Dean, please don’t,” I started and he cut me off by gently kissing me.

“You’re not asking me to give up anything, you’ve never expected me to give up anything, you’ve always let me be me.” He said ad he cupped my face in his hands “I’m not giving this up because you asked me, hell, Hunting is all I’ve ever known, but I want something more, and I want that something more with you.”

Tears streamed down my face and he quickly wiped them away, he took my hands in his and got down on one knee. “All I want this year is an answer.” He said as pulled a small, black box from his coat pocket as my hand clapped over my mouth that had dropped open in shock.

“Dean!” I said in shock

“Josie,” He said breathlessly as he opened the box “will you marry me?”

Tears poured out of my eyes as I clutched his hand. This wasn’t something I’d ever thought I’d see, the man I loved more than anything else in this world asking me to be his wife. I nodded furiously.

“Yes!” I exclaimed “YES!”

Dean looked relieved as he stood up, wrapped his arms around me and kissing me hard.

“That’s a yes?” He asked

“Yes!” I told him, more tears rolling down my cheeks “Of course I’ll marry you, I love you.”

“Yes?” He asked again and kissed me.

“Yes!” I exclaimed again and he kissed me again. He hugged me hard and we held each other for what felt like a long time as the people from the apocalypse world, Jack, Castiel, Sam, Mary and Bobby all filtered into the room, clapping and offering their congratulations.

“I love you.” He murmured in my ear

“I love you too Dean,” I told him “I love you so much.”

He held up my left hand and slipped the ring on my finger. I looked at it and realized it had the trinity knot on both sides of the diamond.

“Oh Dean,” I breathed “it gorgeous!”

“Look on the band,” he said proudly “it’s got two hands and the setting has a heart, just like your claddagh ring.”

I looked, and true to his word, there were small hands on the same sides as the trinity knot and a heart in the middle.

I cried harder and held him tightly. It was the little things that he remembered, like how important my claddagh ring was to me, that made me fall in love with him. The fact that he knew I always wanted a Christmas proposal, the fact that he was willing to put his entire past behind him for me was enough to make any Christmas wish I’d ever had come true.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Hope you guys liked that! Don’t forget to like and share, even leave a comment (I LOVE interacting with you guys!) All my tag lists are open, so if you wanna be part of any of them, feel free to let me know! DON’T FORGET; my live stream will be this time next week!!! If you wanna tune in, don’t forget to subscribe to my YouTube Channel so you don’t miss out!! Sunday December 2nd at 4:00 EST!

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[robomalus]

WELP guess who figured out a key part of Sticks’s backstory!! it’s me!! so here it is, the worst day of Sticks’s life, aka. the reason why everyone hates Aphelion aka. Sustain

The deep magenta of sunset spilled into whirling sand, a haze of light and particulate roughly the color of fresh energon. Sticks stared for a moment out the entrance of the cave, never one to miss the sun set. Their servos were wrapped around a dish of insect resin. Turns out ground insect exoskeletons and a bit of water turned into a paste that was ideal for filling cracked parts, creating splints, and even reconstructing plating if you got the mixture right. They sighed, tearing their optics away from the color to walk further back into the cave. Salvo shifted upwards as they passed, giving them a knowing nod before returning his gaze to the outside again, ever vigilant.

The Choir was quiet today. Sticks passed a lounging Burner, her gaze firmly on the ceiling, expression devoid of the usual smirk, only moving her optic to watch Sticks’s march inward. Bowline was recharging for the first time in weeks. She sat outside the entrance to the sickroom, humongous optic at last closed. Sticks smiled slightly at that, she deserved rest. Inside the room was rather spacious. Poultices, scavenged parts, and their energon supply lined the walls. A small window covered in netting looked out onto the desolate sandstorm. The shadows stretched long to complement the pinkish light that glinted ever-so-slightly on the still, solitary frame in the middle of the room. 

Sticks walked to them and knelt down. Aphelion was close to twice their size, their normal golden orange hue now much paler, almost purple in the light of the setting sun. Sticks took the bot’s servo in their own. Their wounds weren’t healing well. Cracks traveled up their chassis from an impact wound near their shoulder. Sticks had managed to reattach the limb but it seemed the structural damage was too much for Aphelion’s frame. They tapped a skeletal finger on the other’s servo, delicately so as to wake them up gently.

Aphelion didn’t respond. Their optics were closed. “Aphelion, I’m here,” Sticks murmured, “Wake up.”

Nothing. 

Sticks felt fear drip into their frame, “Aphelion...” They brought their servo to the bot’s face, gently, sweetly, “I’m here, wake up.”

Fear turned into panic, their optics flashed as they leaned down to put an audial near Aphelion’s chassis. Nothing, no sound of a spark.

Sticks shot upright, optics wide, sparking at the edges, “N-no-” panic caught their voice. They could barely think. Not them. Please not them. 

They ran to the walls, nearly tripping over themself, searching desperately, flinging Spade’s scrapped projects this way and that. Something must work. This cannot happen. They paused, panting. Their optics locked onto a pair of cables piled neatly in a corner, each ending in a clamp. Unlikely to work... Might kill you in the process... Dangerous. Dangerous. Dangerous... In theory it may be possible... The conversation echoed in their head. They grabbed the cables and rushed over to Aphelion’s frame. 

They’d thought about it before when they’d seen Spade restart a rudimentary combustion engine they’d managed to build. It was the reason they’d made the cables to begin with. Aphelion had called it jumpstarting, they’d seen it done with vehicles Earth. You use one working engine to start another. The engine had only needed a bit of a push to get going, why then shouldn’t a spark work the same way... In theory.

Whatever happened. They would not live in a world without Aphelion.

Sticks’s servos shook as they opened first Aphelion’s chassis and then their own, placing the clamps on either side of the spark chamber similar to how Aphelion described it. As they affixed the last clamp, a sharp wave of lethargy hit them. Their optics sparked. They fell over onto Aphelion’s frame, shuddering violently. The lethargy turned into dull pain, then stabbing pain. Their breath came in short, whimpering bursts as they felt their spark start to destabilize. Numbness creeped up their legs. They tried to regret it. It hurt. With death staring them in the face they lost their courage. All they could do was watch Aphelion’s face. If this was their last view, then so be it.

Very suddenly the pain began to subside. Sticks froze as amber optics flickered back to life, dimly at first, then gaining strength. Sticks took a deep, shuddering breath, “A-Aphelion?” Static blanketed their voice as they pushed themself up on a weak elbow. 

Aphelion’s piercing optics turned to Sticks, “What did you do.” Their voice was weak but ice cold.

Sticks pushed themself up a little further, confused at Aphelion’s glare, “oh-okay, we’re fine. I did it.” They vented heavily, their emotions dulled by the buzzing in their chassis, the overwhelming sensation of dread, like standing on a thin wire over a white-hot smelting pit.

“WHAT DID YOU DO?” Aphelion screamed, panic in their optics as they flung themself over onto their other side with more strength than a nearly-dead bot should have. They followed the cable lines to Sticks, looked directly into their optics with a furious glare.

Sticks fell backwards, optics wide, mouth agape in pitiful, exhausted shock, “I... I brought you back.”

They didn’t understand, Aphelion was... they were angry.

Aphelion staggered to their pedes, their entire frame shaking in a noxious mixture of rage, panic, and sickness. They took a single uncoordinated step, bending over to regain their balance. When they looked back to Sticks, every ounce of the kindness they always seemed to keep within them was obliterated- substituted for blinding hatred. The cable was near its length.

Everything seemed to happen in slow motion. Aphelion pushed off towards the window. One of the clamps on Sticks’s side slid off. There was a loud CRACK as the counter-surge tore through Sticks’s frame. Sticks watched, almost detachedly, as Bowline ran through the door to the sound of their scream. They felt their frame hit the floor. Their audials rang. Something inside them seemed to pop as their own hot energon leaked from their limbs. The last thing they saw before their vision crackled to black was the brilliant green and gold of Aphelion’s fluttering wings as they jumped through the window, carrying its mesh with them into the sandstorm.

...

The next time Sticks opened their optics, the room was bathed in blue light. They were where they were before. The room was cleaned up slightly, their helm propped up on a large piece of tarp. The only other bot in the room was Bowline, whose shadow stretched across them as she watched the two moons battle for glory of the evening sky.

[crzcorgi]

Reluctant Seductress

Catch up with Negan and Number 6 here

Negan x wife (reader - Y/N)

Y/N=your name

Y/N/N ~ your nickname

Y/E/C ~ your eye color

Y/H/C ~ your hair color

Ne - reader’s nickname for Negan

I switch between the reader and Negan’s POV , but I have labeled the changes

Warnings-sexy Negan times & language. Under a cut due to mature aesthetic and story theme and length

I apologize for the amount of time between chapters, and for my less than stellar writing.

3300 words

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 Y/N POV

 Today was the day. I was going to confront Negan about going on a run. Months ago he had agreed to let me go on one, but due to multiple reasons, including bogus ones Negan had made up, I was never able to go.

 But after a wonderful homecoming fuck fest, Negan’s words, not mine, I was hoping he would wake up beyond content. Or, I suppose he could wake up grumpy, tired, in pain from a horrible past week of fuckups, assholes and just plain screw ups. A girl can certainly try to be positive.

 I was heading back to our room from picking up breakfast for Negan when I slammed right into someone, my tray of food tumbling out of my arms, spilling everything.

 “What the fuck, y/n! You spilled your shit all over me, you’re such a fucking klutz!” Sherry lit into me, carefully wiping herself down with one of my napkins.

  “Yell a bit louder, Sherry, I’m not sure they heard you at the northern outpost.” I started cleaning up what had been spilled, trying my best to ignore her.

 “Just where Negan likes you, on your hands and knees.” Sherry spit out.

 “SHERRY!” Negan’s booming voice echoed down the hall, the sound of his heavy boots accompanying it.

 I looked over my shoulder to see him approaching, giving him a slight smile, trying to finish cleaning up the mess that was made.

 “Doll, just leave it. I’ll call some else to clean that shit up. Or maybe Sherry would like to do it? Seems she has some fucking time on her hands now.” I wasn’t looking, but I could imagine the face Negan was giving her. And I was waiting for her smartass response.

 “I heard what you said to y/n, and I don’t want to fucking go there again. You need to keep your trap shut, Sherry, or there will be punishments. Got it?”

 I looked up in time to see Sherry glancing down at me with the proverbial look that could kill. I just grinned, taking a hold of Negan’s hand that he was offering me. As I stood, he took me in his arms, leading me back towards our room. As we were heading down the hall, Negan glanced over his shoulder. “Finish cleaning that up, Sherry. You always did your best work on your knees.” He leaned down to kiss the top of my head.

 He opened the door, placing his hand at the small of my back to gently lead me inside. Closing the door, he let out a big sigh.

 “Doll, what were you doing fucking carrying that big tray up here, it’s not your job, we have workers to do that.” I looked up at him, biting my tongue. “And why were you fucking engaging in a conversation with Sherry? I don’t want you anywhere near them, okay?”

 I took in a deep breath. “Ne, we need to eat, I was just bringing us breakfast, I sort of wanted to surprise you. And as far as Sherry goes, she appeared out of nowhere, walking right into me causing me drop it all.” I stepped away from Negan, going over to sit on one of the sofas, bringing my feet up under me. “She did all the conversing, Ne, I try my hardest to ignore her.” I slumped down into the cushions. “And believe me, I hate drama, and that’s all those women live for. I just wanted to give you a nice quiet breakfast after your less than stellar week.” I looked downward, a small “ugh” escaping me.

 Negan suddenly appeared in front of me, sitting down on the coffee table. He took a hold of both of my hands, lightly stroking my fingers. “Sweetheart, next time just walk away.”

 “Walk away? Ne, there was a mess, I had to clean it up!” I looked up at him, noticing the look of frustration in his eyes. “I’m sorry, it’s just who I am.”

 Negan’s POV

 I brought doll’s hands up to my lips, kissing all her fingers. She frustrates me to no fucking end. She needs to toughen up, stop being so damn nice, start kicking some asses. I love her sweetness, her soft heart, her innocence. But I hate how she’s always being taken advantage of. How she seems to want to put every fucker before herself. Even me.

 “Baby girl, I couldn’t possibly love you fucking more than I do. But you gotta toughin’ the fuck up.”

 “Like how, Ne? Why are you saying that now?” Her sweet pure eyes blinking up at me.

 “Well, first off, don’t go getting our breakfast, let someone bring it to us. Second, and I’ve thought long and fucking hard on this, I think it’s time the exes move out, start working for points and live with every other fucker.”

 Jumping up from the couch, y/n stormed over to the bed, forcefully sitting down, glaring at me. “No.”

 I stood up, moving deliberately over to stand in front of her. She looked like a little girl, her arms crossed in front of her, her bottom lip jutting out.  “No? What exactly are you saying no to doll?”

 Looking up at me with a face full of defiance, she spoke. “I’m saying no to the exes moving, working. Negan, we can’t, you can’t. You promised them safety, a rather luxurious life, no working for points, their own rooms. You can’t just take it all away. Maybe we can come up with a compromise.”

 I sat down next to her on the bed, exhaling.

 “And before you start lecturing me, I know the Sanctuary rules, I know your rules. And yes, I know I shouldn’t care about them, I know how Sherry, Amber & Tasha treated me. But Frankie & Tanya were nothing but wonderful to me, I couldn’t even begin to list the ways they have helped me, kept me sane. They’re my sisters, Ne.”  I could see her eyes beginning to water.

 I can’t stand to see her fucking cry, especially when it’s because of me, so I gave in, again. “Look sweetheart, I guess we can hold off on changing anything with the fucking exes. I’m not happy with it, but if it makes you smile, then I’m fucking okay. BUT, you owe me fucking big time doll!” I ran my fingers up her bare leg, teasing the hem of her shorts.

 She smiled, lifting my fingers off of her thigh as she stood up to stand in front of me. Looking into my eyes through her own hooded ones, she began licking her lips, taking the bottom one in between her teeth, nibbling slightly.

Y/N’s POV

 I hated taking advantage of a situation, Ne was so sweet to put moving the exes out on the back burner. He didn’t really lay into too much for going down to the kitchen for our breakfast. And he never said anything to me about my choice of an outfit, my old cutoffs and a tank. Even though I was his one and only wife now, he still wanted me to wear the wife “uniform” which was a tiny black dress. A dress, in the apocalypse. Only Negan.

 And yet, here I was, doing just that. I knew he was horny, he always is, but most especially when he first gets up. So I was going to use my natural god given talents and assets to turn him to butter in my hands. And possibly get my way in regards to going on a possible run. I couldn’t stop the small snicker from escaping. Did I feel a bit guilty? Maybe, but it’s not like Negan hasn’t done similar things.

 I started out slowly, just the sweet innocent eye batting, the lip licks and nibbles. I began to slowly sway my hips, placing my hands on my thighs, rubbing gently up and down, my thumbs slipping under my shorts. I gazed into his now squinty eyes, seeing them change from hazel to almost jet black from want and need.

 I wasn’t the best flirt in the Sanctuary, not by a long shot. But I knew I was the only one for Negan, and I believed that I was very aware of what Negan liked, what truly made him hard. And I gave him what he wanted, in spades. It makes me giggle thinking about before the end, how white bread I was, how virtuous! I used to think the apocalypse and all its devastating effects are what made me change. But I’m not so sure anymore. I’m starting to think it might be a certain man that wields a barbed wire adorned bat might be the reason.

 I saw Ne’s tongue dart out, which was a sign my little ministrations were working. I brought my hands up to my hair, pulling it from the hair tie, letting it gently fall around my face and shoulders, then running my fingers through it. . Closing my eyes, I tilted my head back, slipping my hands down my neck over my clothed breasts, stopping to tweak each nipple, bringing each one to a hardened peak.

 My fingers continued a downward movement, reaching my waistband. I took a chance, my eyes squinting to peek at Negan, who was too preoccupied with my fingers to notice me looking. His pupils totally blown, his tongue darting out and rolling over his bottom lip. One hand was buckled onto his more than obvious bulge, the other was clenching the covers. I knew I had him, now to reel him in.

 Unzipping and then unbuttoning my shorts, I pulled them partially down, shimmying them the rest of the way down. Giggling, I kicked them off my feet, sending them flying backwards across the room.

 In a very low growl Negan spoke. “Forget to do laundry again doll, cause I believe I fucking asked you to never go outside our room without panties on, didn’t I?” He leant forward his hands darting out to clench tightly to my hips. His dark menacing eyes glaring up at me.

 “Um, yes, but I figured I wouldn’t be long and it wasn’t like I had a dress on.” He was making me so nervous I was rapidly losing any ability I had to seduce him properly.

 He began laughing, throwing his head back laughing. That dirty bastard knew what he was doing. “Did I fucking knock you off your game, sweetheart? Keep doing what you were doing, I loved the show.” His hands still on my hips, he moved his face inches from my now completely naked and exposed core. “Mmhmm!” He made an exaggerated sniffing sound. “Fresh morning pussy, nothing better!” And then in one swift move, he sprang forward, his tongue licking a wet streak from my hardened bud to my rapidly dampening cunt, entering it as deep as possible.

 Almost falling, I reached out, placing my hands on his back, hoping he could hold me up. Pulling back, He grabbed onto my waist, pulling me with him as he settled onto his back on the bed. “Spread those thighs more and shimmy your way forward,, I need the little miss on my fucking face.”

Negan’s POV

 I knew right away what little girl was up to. She is fucking adorable, thinking she can pull one over on ol’ Negan. But fuck if I’d let her know I was on to her. Not when I was getting some special morning fuckity fucking fun.

 She fucking takes my breath away when she she’s like this. I know what she’s thinking, what she’s always saying. She doesn’t see what I see. She’s a fucking natural beauty, none of that made up shit, she doesn’t need make up or fancy fucking clothing. All she needs, all I want, is her, in all her fucking natural, naked, glory.

 As she made her way up to my head, I watched her move. She was fucking sex personified, her mussed up hair hanging over one side, her bottom lip between her teeth as she climbed over me. She stopped when she reached my chest.

 “Why ya stopping, doll?” Instead of fucking waiting for her answer, I grabbed her waist, pulling her forward.

 “Oh my god!!!” She squeaked, grabbing at the headboard.

 “No, baby, it’s me, Negan. And I’m about to enjoy some breakfast! Mmmhmm!”

 I knew it wouldn’t take long for y/n to come undone, my tongue being her fucking weakness, so I intended to take my time. I started circling her clit, it was hard, but I knew it still had room to grow. The saltiness tickled my tongue, making me growl. She tasted like no other, a mix of the usual salty, but doll was so fucking sweet, the sweetness tasting like every fucking treat I enjoyed before the end. If I could, I would survive on eating her out.

 As I moved my tongue away from her now solid nub, I slowly dragged it backwards, making her shimmy and shiver. When I reached her cunt, as much I was wanting to make her fucking squirm, I dove right in. I needed my tongue so far into her, needed to taste all of her.

 “Oooohhhh…ohhhh… Ne!!!!!”

 I knew she was almost there, I could feel her pussy contracting, so I brought my hands up, one stopping to lightly pinch her clit, the other moving onto her tits. I grabbed a nipple, pinching it the same as I played with her clit. My tongue pumping in and out of her so fast now, making me im-fucking-possibly hard, so hard I was going to fucking blow a load.

 I withdrew my tongue, and moving my hands to doll’s waist, ignoring her whines of protest, I simultaneously sat up while flipping both y/n and myself over, both us letting out groans and fucking grunts. I was now straddling her, trying to release my pained dick from fucking too tight pants. Once freed, I took no time, and being far from gentle, slamming into doll’s wet cunt.

 “OHMyGOD, NE!!!!”

 I wasn’t sure if her screams were from pain or pleasure or maybe a bit of both. But it fucking spurred me on. I don’t think I have ever been quite as rough, as fucking needy, but I had to have this, now,  so I raced to my fucking release. I think a part of me was trying to fuck the sass out of her, she needs to listen to me, to abide by my rules I have in place. Rules that protect, rules that keep us all alive to see another day, whether we want to or not. But doll needed to stop bucking me at every turn.

 I stared into her beautiful y/e/c eyes, the love for me always shining brightly. I could fucking lose myself in them. I could feel her body beginning to vibrate, tremble under me, her end eminent. My right hand snaking between our wet overheated bodies, reaching her clit and circling it at a slow but determined pace. I moved my left hand from beside her head to the headboard, grabbing on for dear life as I continued to slam into her cunt at fucking full speed.

 Y/N POV

 I don’t know if it’s because of what I allowed him to do last night or what, but Negan was pounding into me like he never had before. And I liked it, no scratch that I was in fucking ecstasy. I never would have pictured myself wanting to be taken this way, giving up all control. But it was amazing, I felt amazing. It was like being on a whole other plane of existence.

  I could feel my body twitching, my nerves at the surface. I knew my climax was nearing but I wanted it to last, there was no way I wasn’t going to enjoy some of the best fucking fun I’d ever had. When Negan moved his fingers to my over sensitive clit I knew it would be no use, I was done for. I wanted to stop him, but my body rebelled. My senses went into overdrive, I was shaking, I could hear Negan’s grunts, his growls. I could hear his heartbeat! I could hear my own, and feel how hard it was beating. I smelled the air, our sweaty bodies, my shampoo, the mints Negan likes to chew on. Looking into Ne’s eyes, I saw a fierceness that startled me, yet was calming at the same time. Then it all disappeared in a flash.

 Negan’s POV

   She came, so hard, so fast, her perfect pussy tightening around my cock like a fucking python. I couldn’t stop and I came at breakneck speed, hurtling hot streams of cum deep into her, more than I ever had, I wasn’t fucking stopping.

 Then I realized doll wasn’t moving, she was fucking limp below me.

 “Y/N? Baby girl?” I had softened enough to pull out and bring her listless body with me as I rolled over. I began stroking her hair, knowing that it always draws a sigh of contentment from her. Nothing.

 “Doll!” I held her cheeks in both hands, squeezing softly. Then I felt her move, just a bit, her eyelids fluttering.

 “Ne?”

 “I’m here sweetheart, think that was a bit too much fucking fun for you, made ya pass out doll face!” I laughed, relieved to see her smile a bit.

 “I guess so, wow.” A tiny giggle escaping her. Then a sigh.

 “Disappointed y/n/n? You seemed pretty fucking on board with everything going on?” I was still running my fingers through her y/h/c hair, feeling her heartbeat slowing down gradually.

 “Oh, yes, very content with us.” She started rubbing her fingers up and down my chest. “It’s just…for once I was kinda hoping I would have been the one in charge. I wanted you to be the one fainting from pure bliss. I wish I had that kind of effect on you.” I heard her sniff, knowing where her mind was heading. Taking her chin in my hand, lifting it carefully, just enough for her to see my face.

 “Baby, every time  I see you, every time I’m in your presence, I am in fucking pure bliss. You have a hold on me like no other before and no other to come. Fuck doll, you are in charge, of my mind, my soul, and most especially my dick!” I thrusted my groin towards her, laughing.  

 “You are incorrigible, Ne!” She playfully slapped my hand that was caressing her cheek. “It’s just…I kind of had a plan, and I failed.”

 “Nope, no fucking fail.” I knew what she wanted, what she was attempting. “We’ll take about going on a run, baby girl, after we enjoy ourselves a bit more.” I kissed the top of her head. “How about a shower? We both kinda need to fucking clean up.”

 “Honest? You’ll let me go on a run?” She’d sat up at this point, wide awake, the biggest fucking smile on her gorgeous face.

 I sat up, swinging my legs off the bed, standing up with a bit of effort. “It’s what I said doll. Now get your fucking sassy ass over to the bathroom and start a shower for us. I’m going to make sure we are not disturbed.”

 I watched as she jumped out of the bed, running around to my side.

 “Fuck it little girl, just watching those titties bounce towards me has got me hard as steel again!” I grabbed her by the waist, picking her up high enough to claim those plump lips. Placing her back down, I gave her ass a swat as I turned, heading to my desk.

 She giggled, walking into the bathroom, turning to grin up at me. “I love you, Ne.”

 “And I, you.”

 Fuck, she makes everything worthwhile. My sweet doll.

[birdofdoom]

Patches

This request was a bit of a challenge because I’m new to writing violence and intimacy, but I enjoyed it all the same. For clarification, things do get steamy, but I wouldn’t classify it as smut. I’m worried that this is low quality and that the pacing may be poor so I’d love any criticism or feedback so I can continue to improve.

The poster requested a Michael x Reader fic in which Michael finds himself in a bit of a bind after getting caught up in the illegal side of the business and runs to the Reader’s house for medical attention and support. As best friends she cares for him and things heat up. 

Michael x Reader

Warnings: mild violence 

He whinged with pain. The crack of teeth and bone echoed continuously in his left ear. The right was consumed by a shrill and disconcerting ringing. His knuckles ached under peeled back skin; crimson peaking through the lily of his flesh. His shoes were damp with blood, and he had long since lost track of whose it was. His woolen socks had swollen, absorbing the claret and making his boots all the heavier. Everything was heavier after a fight. His mind. His body. His breath. It was unbearable and dense because suffering always is. Michael thought it was as if people shoved their burden, their hate, their anger, the very toxicity of life, into every punch and that’s how pain was made. He subconsciously licked at his split lip and was met with stinging.

Welts were forming on his face, creating alien mountains and adding hues of puce and mauve to his alabaster skin. Scrapes bit around his sharp cheekbones and into his eyebrow. His thigh and shoulder bubbled with blood staining his once posh suit. Unlike his cousins, Michael was soft in feature. Smooth skin untouched by the flames of war, coupled with charm and class from a life outside of the family business left him with a cherubic face. Indeed, from afar he appeared innocent; angelic. However, upon further examination, he held the satanically commanding stare of his mother’s side. In fact, that was not the sole Shelby feature Michael possessed in spades. He had a lust for destruction. He found a sadistic joy in violence. Like Thomas, he was calculating and wise, often cold in his devastation. However, when pushed too far, Michael would lapse into the wicked madness found in Arthur’s fists.

He enjoyed his legal and safe career as Chief Accountant with Shelby Brothers Ltd. It appeased his mother and kept him sharp. The pay was more than fair and he enjoyed the platform it provided for his ambitions. Yet, hidden away in a quite room, behind frosted glass and golden nameplates, Michael was deafened by the silence. The position was straitlaced and confining. In turn, Michael squashed feelings of reproach and chaos to keep up appearances of a pristinely legal firm. He bottled up anger and irascibility under high pressure. He was a time bomb. Always perceptive, Thomas had proposed an inconspicuous arrangement for Michael to keep levelheaded. On days when Michael found order overwhelmingly trite and numbing he would ask Tommy for a name. It was always a single name on a slip of betting paper. And for the night, on behalf of the Peaky Blinders, not Shelby Brothers Ltd, Michael gave that name bearer hell.  

It felt good to be hired muscle; to beat the shit out of someone. Michael reveled in the power to strike fear into a person’s being. He loved the catharsis of pain and ache. He could release a week’s worth of exasperation into one sap of a man, all in the name of the Blinders. He was grateful for Tommy’s assistance and discretion. He felt more a part of the family when he fought, but could rest easy knowing his mother was ignorant of his volatility. It was comforting and it was becoming routine. 

That was until tonight. He had always accounted for a single opponent; one man or boy who needed leaning on. For weeks things had gone smoothly. Messages were received, payments made, and Michael could maintain composure at work. But this night he stumbled into a conflicting group of three. Never one to back down or retreat he carried on and as a result, took a beating. More than once he had unsuccessfully reached for his pistol in defense. The three men were stocky and powerful. They bore calloused palms and engorged muscles from time at the BSA. Their fists pummeled resentment into Michael’s saintly face. He could feel his ribs splinter and his lungs scream for air. He threw punches and kicks to little avail, like a hummingbird in a hurricane. Overcome with desperation, Michael’s body began to violently convulse. He lashed out with tenacity, throwing his body about as a weapon. No sooner had he thrown the men off of him, then he thrust his hands into his pockets retrieving small defenses.

Razor blades and daggers danced in the smoggy lamplight, kissing flesh with virgin scars. The brawl was messy and filthy and crude. Metal loops guarded Michael’s punches and his victims’ teeth flew from their gums. As metal made contact with the soft weakness of eyes, screams and blood perforated the night. At one point, the fracture of a skull on cobblestone rang out and everything fell silent. The largest of the three men was sprawled on the street, sanguine liquid pouring from his head. Retching and writhing in agony, Michael could see Death approaching the name on the betting slip. The gravity of the situation was plain. It had escalated too quickly and now the possibility of a murder charge was looming. He looked up at the other two men and saw only witnesses. All three remaining men pulled guns. Four shots broke the silence of the early morning hours. When the smoke cleared and the echoes faded Michael was the only man standing. He heaved as he felt where the two bullets had ripped through his left thigh and shoulder blade. He picked up his brass knuckles that had fallen to the street in the scuffle and felt panic begin to settle in his gut. 

He needed to lay low and get off the street. Fear gnawed at cogent thoughts and pushed forward distraction. Looking at the gore on the cobblestones, he knew it appeared indiscriminate and random. He scanned the perimeter for incriminating evidence and found nothing that explicitly pointed to him or the Blinders. His lungs struggled to inflate against his broken rib unleashing a hellish burning in his chest. He was hurt and scared. Following his heart rather than his head he stumbled a few blocks to [Y/N]’s apartment. He needed a place that felt like home, and as his closest friend, she was it. 

Leaning against the doorframe to [Y/N]’s apartment, he felt blood run down his leg and continue to pool in his shoes. The brown cotton laces were stained a deep port and the leather of his soles creaked in places where blood had begun to dry and restrict movement.  He didn’t want her to see the vileness of his aggression. He was overcome with shame, but pain superseded pride. He rapped on the thick wooden door, weakly calling her name. His head felt light and his breathing was becoming shallow. He could hear a slight clamor within the tiny apartment. Shortly thereafter warm light flooded his face as [Y/N] opened the door.

“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph! You need a hospital, Michael. Let me get my coat, I’ll run to Mrs. Paxton’s down the way, she has a phone. I can get an ambul…”

“No time. Please, just…” his voice was hoarse and he began to collapse before the thought was completed. Wrapping his good arm around her petite frame, [Y/N] cradled him inside. She struggled to lift him onto her kitchen table as his mind danced in and out of consciousness. In the short walk from the door to the kitchen, her white cotton nightdress was running damp with scarlet. She hurriedly bolted the door and escaped into the back washroom for provisions. Michael’s usually intense eyes were becoming opaquely glossy. They flitted across the water stained ceiling, looking vainly for redemption. He coughed and was met with volatile burning in his shoulder and chest.

“Fuck… [Y/N]?! [Y/N]?!” he cried for her in a needy whine, like a child for a mother.

“I’m here. I know it hurts, but just give me a sec.” She returned to his side, arms full of ointment, bandages, towels, and a quaint sewing kit. “What the fuck did you do, you little tosser? Completely ruined a good suit is what you did!”

In spite of himself, he cracked a toothy grin. That was why they were friends. She wasn’t afraid of the way morbidity followed his family like a shadow. Her humor was dark and she could hold her drink. Sitting and talking with [Y/N] felt like drinking bottled sunshine. Michael always felt safe when she was nearby. He admired her fearlessness and independence. They would stay up late drinking whiskey from the bottle in the back room of the Garrison talking about life and love. She was his confidant. She was his friend, his best friend.

His eyes followed her as she rushed to the stove, lighting the gas burners. She put a pot of water on, waiting for it to boil. As she rummaged through cabinets in search of supplies, he found himself staring at her. He had never really noticed the way fabric clung nicely to her frame or how the sway of her back gave rise to voluptuous hips. She turned around and was met with blush on his cheeks. For a moment he feared that his peeping was revealed, but she was far too focused on the task at hand. Worry crept into her brow. Even under duress, Michael found her face sweet and her lips tantalizing. She placed the back of her hand on his forehead. 

“You’re burning up. You’ve lost so much blood. I don’t know if this is a good idea. Is it normal to lose this much blood?”

“Well I was shot twice so…” he mumbled.

“Jesus, Michael! Lead with ‘I’ve been shot’ next time!” he winced out a small smile in response to her concern. It felt nice that she worried.  It felt nice to be looked after.

“Shit, I hope there isn’t a next time.” He exhaled through gritted teeth. The water was boiling and she dropped the towels into the pot.  

“I’ll make sure of that. I’m telling Polly. You can’t go…”

“Don’t you fucking dare! She’ll actually kill me.” [Y/N] laughed at Michael’s fear of his mother. She grabbed a half emptied bottle of cheap gin from behind a cabinet door and hastily poured a full glass.

“I’d prefer you sober now, thanks.”

“Cheeky, but this is for you, Mickey, not me.” Opening the sewing kit she pulled out shears. She sloshed them in the economy gin and dried them on her nightgown. “I’m sorry, but I have to get to the bullet. I can’t jostle you too much or I’ll lose it. So the posh pants will have to go.” Before he could ask what she meant, [Y/N] began cutting up his left pant leg until she revealed the crater in his flesh. 

“Christ on a bike.” She revolted. Michael was surprised. He had never seen her so squeamish. 

“Y’know, I’m the one that was shot. I thought this shit didn’t bother you.” “It’s different when you care…” She dropped the shears lazily in the sink and reached for two long hatpins from her sewing. After dunking them in gin, she opened a drawer and retrieved a wooden cooking spoon. 

“Right, so there’s no way about it. Bite down on this.” She placed the spoon in his mouth. “It will hurt, Mickey. I’m sorry.” Using the hatpins as makeshift tweezers, she began excavating the bloody hollow. [Y/N] dug for the metal as gingerly as possible, trying to steel herself against his aching sobs. Drool, sweat, and tears were forming an odd lake on the table around his throat. On the verge of passing out he grabbed at the hem of her nightshirt for comfort. “You’re doing great, Michael. Just a little bit more. Remember to breathe.” Her voice was steady and calming. “We’re gonna pull through. I’m here, don’t worry.” 

When metal finally hit metal Michael screamed. She secured the pins around the bullet and began extraction. He wailed and gurgled back tears while maintaining his bite on the wooden spoon. 

“Got it!” she said with relief plopping the slug into the gin glass. Michael was drained and appeared to be taking a brief respite, spitting out the spoon. [Y/N] seized the opportunity and poured a fair amount of gin on the wound. Michael howled. 

“What the ever loving fuck?”

“I’m sorry, but it needs cleaning. Okay, one more and then we’re all done. If you’re good I’ll give you a sweet after.” He laughed.

“I’m not four and this isn’t a shot. You owe me a fucking drink after.”

“Well, I’m using the last of the gin on you so I’ll have to buy you one at the Garrison.”

As [Y/N] unbuttoned Michael’s shirt, she realized that she was successfully undressing a man that she had feelings for. She blushed, and it didn’t go unnoticed. [Y/N] repeated the process of removing the bullet, this time from his shoulder. Knowing that the hellish sting of gin was coming, Michael quickly grabbed her hand for support. He squeezed tightly and she smiled softly to herself, happy to be needed. She gathered the bandages from the counter and packed both the wounds with gauze. After wiping away excess blood, she dressed the two large lesions. Lastly, she rang water from the towels on the stove and gingerly dabbed ointment on the small cuts on his face.

What seemed like an eternity had passed since he had stumbled through the door.  [Y/N] hadn’t really had time to think. She was tired and sore. Michael’s blood was everywhere; on the floor, on the table, in her hair, all over her clothes, under her fingernails. She needed a bath and a good night’s rest.

“C’mon, you need some kip.” She said, lifting him off the table. “You’re staying here tonight, because face it, you can’t walk. You can sleep in my bed, but we’ll need to find you a change of clothes. I’m not having you stain my sheets.” Michael was too sore to protest. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders while she snaked her arm around his waist to steady him. Leaning on her as a crutch, the pair hobbled into the cramped bedroom. She propped him against the wall, making her way to the wardrobe. [Y/N] shuffled through drawers looking for clothing in vain.

“I don’t think I have anything that’ll fit you. I think the only thing that’ll work is this,” she shrugged handing him a flannel lounging robe. He started to absentmindedly undress, sliding off his unbuttoned shirt and waistcoat. Even injured and covered with blood, [Y/N] found him to be beautiful.

“Enjoying the show?” his voice was strained but playful.

“Oh Jesus, sorry. Spaced out. Well, I’ll leave you to it,” she said too quickly. Her cheeks burned with embarrassment. She could hear him chuckle as she scurried off to the washroom. [Y/N] took an icy bath, not wasting time to heat the water. She wanted to scrub the blood from her body as quickly as possible. In some places, it had dried like thick paint on her skin, leaving blotchy congealed rubies of violence. She grimaced as the soap and water washed away the reminder of Michael’s pain. The water was bitingly frigid, but the blood was more repugnant than the cold. Finishing swiftly, [Y/N] slipped into clean pajamas, opting now for a Billie Burke set rather than another nightgown. She walked out of the washroom into Michael’s gaze. [Y/N] was still mortified that she had been caught gaping and was trying to play it off. She yawned, feigning ignorance at his stare. When she turned to meet his gaze he refused to look away.

“Do you need anything? I can get you another blanket or a…” In spite of herself, [Y/N] spoke with hurried trepidation.

“I’m fine. I hurt, but I’m fine.”

“Good, well try to get some rest. It’ll help you heal. I’m off to bed. Night.” She smiled and began to leave the room.

“Wait, so where are you going to sleep then?”

“Just the chair in the hall, you need the space. Don’t worry about it. If you need anything, I’ll be right here.”

“I’m not tired yet. Let’s talk a bit, like at the Garrison.” Michael wanted her to stay. He felt an increasing need to have her close. What he had known to be feelings of friendship were blooming into something far more romantic.

“But I haven’t any more gin…”

“It’s fine, can you just… be with me right now?” His voice was tender and exposed.

“Yeah, of course, anything you need.” 

Michael shifted under the duvet, wrapping the flannel robe more tightly around his chest. The white and red of his bandages peaked through the collar of the housecoat, and she was reminded of his discomfort. Michael slowly propped himself onto his right side to face [Y/N]. She apprehensively sat at the foot of the bed, fearing that any sudden movement could be injurious. 

“There’s plenty of space here,” he ran his hand over the sheets to the right.

“Alright,” her voice wavered breathlessly. She lifted the duvet and slid gingerly onto the bed, cautious not to rock it. [Y/N] turned onto her left side, positioned eye to eye with Michael. The tension was palpable.

“So what is it that you want to talk about?”

“I don’t know. I just didn’t feel like sleeping.”

“Look, Mickey I don’t ask questions, but I do feel entitled to answers, especially if you’re coming round with one foot in the grave.” Her eyes were honest to a fault and he could see her concern plainly. He sighed.

“It was business… it just got out of hand. I didn’t know they would be waiting for me. Guess I walked into a trap.”

“If it had to do with business, why not go to Pol or Arthur or John? Hell, Tommy’s in Arrow House, but you could have crashed at the betting shop.” He hesitated to respond.

“When I’m scared, I feel most at home with you. I knew you wouldn’t judge me and that you’d piece together how to patch me up. God knows Arthur and John aren’t sober this time of night, and mom would reign hell if she saw me in a state.” She laughed at his frankness. “I also just wanted to see your face.”

“And why would you want that?” she asked coyly.

“Because I need to kiss you.”

He reached up to cradle her cheeks warmly in his calloused hands. He could see her pupils dilate with desire and lust kiss flush into her cheeks. His lips were swollen and tender from the earlier brawl, but he didn’t care. He leaned in letting his mouth softly find hers. The ferrous taste of blood nipped at her tongue. Her fingers slowly laced their way through his mussed hair. Michael’s feet moved forward and their legs gradually intertwined. The kisses were slow and lazy. As the pair innocently explored their newly found intimacy, Michael felt the pain in his left side diminish. She yawned mid-kiss and he knew that [Y/N] needed sleep. He smiled and kissed her forehead fondly.  

“Alright, time for bed.” She moved to get up, but he held her tightly. “Sleep here tonight.”

She smiled.

“Tomorrow I’ll see to that drink and maybe we’ll find some patches for your posh pants,” she quipped.

[thedoctoraway1]

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