#the amount of time I used to just stand and STARE at the fuckin Traveler in D1

[xazz]

How we started (Destiny 1) | How it's going (Destiny 2)

[specialagentlokitty]

Daryl x reader - take on the world together

Part 16:

When you woke up you slowly moved out of the van, nodding the Michonne who took your place to watch over the boys instead.

You saw Daryl sat next to Rick and you walked over, taking the cloth of him, and the bottle of water from Daryl.

“You did what you had to do.” You said quietly.

“Would you have done the same thing?” He asked.

You flicked your gaze to meet Ricks before looking away, helping him clean his face of the blood.

“You had to protect your son.”

“Would you have done it?”

“Rick.” Daryl warned.

You raised your hand to him, letting him know that it was okay.

You looked at some of the blood on your hand, and wiped it on your shirt.

“I’ve done the same for less. For nothing. You asked me if I’ve killed people Rick, no, I haven’t. That doesn’t mean I haven’t hurt people, left them in life threatening conditions. This was before the walkers, before everything.”

“Why?”

You shrugged a little.

“It’s the nature of my kind I guess, kill it be killed, but I could never bring myself to kill, that was my downfall.”

You set the cloth and bottle down, resting your arms on your knees.

“I never claimed to be a good person Rick, I never was. I scared people, hurt them, left them half dead, hunted them just because I could. I learned that wasn’t the only way to do things.”

You looked up at him, your red eyes meeting his, and he stared back at you.

“You do what you have to in this world now, to save yourself, to save the ones you love. That’s the most important thing there is.”

“Is that why you came all this way?”

“To protect the ones I care about, yes. You would do anything for your family Rick, I would destroy anything for mine. I would travel thousands of miles, we would both do the same thing.”

He slowly nodded his head.

“If you want to know the story, I’ll let Daryl fill you in. If you want me to go, I’ll go.”

You pushed yourself up, walking a little bit down the road you sat in the middle of it, staring straight ahead while they talked.

You weren’t sure what was going to happen, but you thought maybe it was best hearing everything come from somebody he trusted, his second hand man.

You were looking out on the road for a good amount of time before you heard your name being called, and you stood up to turn around.

You slowly made your way back over.

“I uh… I’m sorry you died.”

You laughed a little.

“Ah, I was going to die one die anyway right?”

This made Rick chuckle.

“Yeah, yeah I guess you’re right. We’re all gonna die one day.”

He held his hand out to you.

“I meant when I thanked you.”

Reaching out, you took it.

“You’re one of us, you’re family.”

You gave a small smile and nodded your head.

He let go and stepped aside so Daryl could stand in front of you.

He untied the fabric from your stomach, and lifted your shirt to see the slowly healing wound.

He could see it was still indented, not fully healing to match the rest of the skin, and in the morning light he could see the burns as well.

You placed your hand over his, lowering your shirt.

“It’s okay…”

“When’s the last time you ate?”

“Daryl it’s fine.”

You tried to move away but he wouldn’t let you.

“Tell me when.”

“I.. I don’t know, okay? I don’t know. But it’s fine.”

He shook his head, and he pulled your jacket and his vest off, pulling down his shirt.

“Here.”

“Daryl no.”

“You’re gonna fuckin’ die if you don’t, you need blood.”

“I’ll be fine.”

You picked his vest up and draped it over his shoulders, smiling softly up at him before picking up your jacket and pulling it on.

Daryl gently took your wrist, making it so you couldn’t escape from the conversation.

“You’re hurt, badly, you get hit once more you’ll die. We’ve just got you back and I’ll be dammed if am gonna let you fuckin’ die.”

“Can’t force me to eat Daryl, and in definitely not feeding on your blood. I’ll find some animals or something.”

“You’re right, I can’t force you.”

He raised his hands and took your face in them, leaning down to kiss you.

You put your hands on his shirt, gripping it tightly as you kissed his back.

You felt him move his hands from you face.

You were so focused on him, the fact that he was actually there with you that you didn’t notice what he was doing.

You only noticed when he pulled away, placing his hand on the back of your head, and shoved his arm into your mouth.

The metallic taste of blood filled your mouth, and without thinking you sank your teeth into his arm.

Daryl held back a noise of pain, and he clenched his jaw tightly.

He placed his hand on the back of your head, leaning forward to kiss your forehead.

He never expected there to be so much pain, but he remembered you explaining why there was so much pain, even if he couldn’t make sense of it.

He rested his chin on your head, playing with the hairs on the back of your neck.

It took a few minutes to realise what you were doing and you quickly pulled away, pushing him back a few steps.

“What the fuck?!”

“I just saved your fuckin’ life!”

“I could’ve killed you!”

He shrugged a little, giving you that taunting grin he always gave you when he did something wrong but it worked out.

“Nah, you wouldn’t ever kill me.”

“Daryl I told you I was fine.”

“And I knew you were bullshitting so guess what Darlin’? It weren’t a choice.”

You scowled at him.

“You’re such a bitch…”

He chuckled, walking over and he placed a finger under your chin so he could tilt your head up a little to look at him.

He moved his hand, using his thumb to wipe the blood from the corner of your mouth, wiping it on your shirt.

He silently reached out, lifting your shirt to see that the wound was healing and he gave his head an approving nod.

“You’re stupid as hell if you think I was just gonna let you die.”

You sighed, taking the cloth from your stomach and walked over, wrapping it around his arm.

You gently tied it, holding your hand over it to stop him from bleeding

“I’m so sorry…”

He sighed.

“Don’t apologise.”

“Daryl I’m sorry…”

“Stop.”

You looked up at him with sad eyes and he sighed, stepping forward, placing his hand on the back of your head to guide you into a hug.

You closed your eyes, wrapped your arms around him, clutching at the fabric of his vest.

“How dud you find us?”

“You smell like shit…”

“Hey, is that the way to speak to the man who saved your life?”

You rolled your eyes.

“You really do. Like seriously Daryl, you have to bathe more.”

“Hey if my stink helped you find us then I suppose I just gotta keep it.”

You laughed, pulling away to look at his grinning face.

Reaching up, you brushed some of his hair from his face, letting you get a better look at his face and he shook his head.

You moved his hair again, this time Daryl let you.

“You’re gross Daryl, seriously when you get a chance you really do have to bathe.”

“Nah.”

“Daryl Dixon, yes. I don’t you teaching Spence it’s fine not to bathe.”

“Ain’t nobody cares about that shit now.”

“It’s called hygiene, yes we do.”

He shrugged a little bit.

“Well tough shit. Now c’mere.”

Daryl tried to hug you and you stepped to the side, grinning up at him.

“Hey!”

He tried again, but he barely just missed you.

He stood there, crossing his arms and you copied him, trying to copy his stern facial expression as well but all you could do was grin at him.

Daryl bit back his own grin.

“Asshole.” He said.

You gestured with your head from him to follow you, and you walked to the side of the road, you sitting with your gaze towards the others, him sitting just in front of you with his gaze behind you.

You sighed a little bit, looking down at your hands.

“Thank you for looking after him…” you said softly.

“I made you a promise didn’t I?”

“Yeah, yeah you did. I’m glad you did.”

Daryl glanced at you before looking back in the direction he was facing.

“How’d you know I saved him?”

“I went back to the prison, looked in all the places I told him to hide in case anything happened, my jacket was missing from my cell, and I knew you wouldn’t take it without a reason.”

You gestured to the van.

“I ran into those three not long ago, maybe a day or so.”

“You didn’t think to stay with them? You stupid or something?”

“I had to find you both, I couldn’t go with them if you weren’t with them.”

“Are you gonna tell me what happened yet?”

You looked toward Daryl.

“You remember that vampire that cornered us?”

He nodded.

“It was him, I wasn’t strong enough to fight him, he stabbed me through and through with some metal, left me there and took my ring so I’d burn. When I came to I knew I had to get back to you, because he’d be going after you.”

You looked at your ring.

“Where did you find it?”

“Saw the fucker trying to sneak in, put an arrow through his head, searched his pockets and found it.”

You nodded, and he reached out, taking your hand and he laced his fingers with yours.

You looked for a few seconds before closing your fingers around his hand.

“Daryl?”

He hummed, letting you know he heard you.

“Stop teaching my boy how to swear asshole.”

“How the fuck did you know about that? Did the kid rat me out?”

“No dumbass, I heard you. I was under some nearby bushes to get away from the sun.”

“You didn’t think to call out?”

“And turn myself into a pile of ash?”

“Okay, that’s true.”

You both went quiet for a few minutes.

“Daryl?”

“Yeah?”

You locked eyes with him.

“Do you love me?”

He locked eyes with you, and he looked away, hiding his face behind his hair.

“I don’t say that crap.”

You nodded your head, and you stood up, letting go of his hand.

Leaning down, you kissed the top of his head.

“I love you. I understand.”

You began walking away.

“Shit (Y/N).”

You stopped, he jumped up and walked in front of you.

“I never meant that I uh.. you know that I don’t.”

You furrowed your brows a little.

“If I say it, this becomes real, like really fuckin’ real. That means I’ll really have something to lose.”

“Everyday you’re still alive you have something to lose my darling, that doesn’t mean you will. You keep fighting, just like you have been, you fight to stay alive, to keep your family safe.”

Daryl took your left hand, showing you the ring.

“You see this shit?”

You nodded.

“That means you stay, you fight with me. Me, you, Spencer, everybody, we fight anything that tries to take us apart.”

“We destroy anything, anyone that threatens us.” You said.

He nodded his head.

“You stay by my side, you understand?” He asked.

You smiled.

“‘Till we die I’ll be by your side.”

“And I’ll be by yours.” He whispered.

Leaning forward, he put his forehead on yours, both of your closing your eyes.

This was it, this was everything you had been searching for after all these years, everything you had wanted.

Daryl finally had people to call his own, a family to call his own.

Both of you would burn the whole world down to keep that safe if you had to, without hesitation, without a second thought

[touyasdoll]

Bakugo+🚬+smut

Frustrated

NSFW, Minors DNI

Pairing: Katsuki Bakugou x reader

Genre: Smut

Warnings: smoking, exhibitionism, public sex, biting, unprotected sex

The cool breeze of the evening air hit you as you stepped outside, letting the employee entrance door of the agency swing shut behind you. You sucked in a breath of fresh air, wrinkling your nose at the smell of smoke permeating your nostrils.

Glancing over, you saw your patrol partner inhaling the cigarette that he held between his lips. He was hunched over, sitting on a bench with his elbows resting on top of his knees, looking about as approachable as he usually did.

"Didn't realize you were a smoker," you took a step closer, dipping a toe into the water to gage his mood, "Wouldn't have pegged you for the type."

He spared a glance in return, staring back down at the ground as he took another drag, "Something to take the edge off." He paused before scooting over on the bench and nodding to the seat beside him, "Sit, if you want."

"Oh, thanks," you offered a small smile, which went unnoticed as you smoothed your skirt and sat down beside him, "Would you mind if I bummed one off ya?"

He scoffed, shaking his head with a smirk, "And here I thought that you were judging me, Princess," he reached into his pocket, flicking his wrist to flip open the pack in your direction.

"You say that like I have room to judge," you scoffed back, picking a cigarette out and tucking it between your teeth as you held your hand out for a light.

The corners of his lips upturned in an amused grin as he held a single finger up and leaned in. You followed his lead, bringing your face closer to his as he pressed the pad of his finger to the end of the cigarette. You held his ruby red gaze as you hollowed your cheeks, breathing life into the rolled tobacco when his finger sparked against it.

It was hard to tell if it was the rush of nicotine, that you were so unaccustomed to, or the proximity of your face to his that had your head spinning. You broke first, eyes darting away as you leaned back, exhaling the smoke you'd held in your lungs.

He kept his eyes trained on you, watching the way your lips pursed together as the puff left them, letting his eyes wander lower, casting them over your torso, along the length of your short skirt, which fanned out over just enough of your thighs to be considered decent.

He whipped his head away, hoping to make the motion look casual as you turned your attention back to him, "What're you still doing here so late?"

"Put off a little too much paperwork last week, so I had to play catch up," he settled his elbows back on his knees. "I could ask you the same thing, you're hardly ever here past quittin' time."

You shrugged, exhaling decisively as you leaned back on your hand, crossing one leg over your knee, feeling your skirt fall a little higher on your thigh. He seemed to take notice, his eyes following the fabric and yours following his stare as you smiled to no one but yourself.

"Been feeling a little frustrated lately. A little, pent up, you know?" You tilted your head slightly to the side, exposing your neck as you arched your back, the motion exaggerating the way your chest heaved as you took another slow drag. “Trying to put some of that energy into work.”

He stole a glance at your chest, clearing his throat as he caught himself, trying to pass it off as a cough, a symptom of the white stick burning between his fingers, but you knew better. He rubbed his thigh, inhaling another puff as he sat up straighter.

"I getcha," he nodded, speaking as he held the smoke in his lungs, "What's got you fucked up?"

"If I'm being honest?" You tilted your head in thought, staring straight ahead, "I could really use a good fuck."

You had to focus to keep your poker face on as you watched his reaction from the corner of your eye. His eyebrows raised, head whipping towards you, trying to confirm if his ears had deceived him.

"You really down that bad? I find that hard to believe,” he chuckled, flicking away the stub of his worn cigarette. “Lookin’ the way you do, you could walk into any bar you wanted and find someone to take you home.”

“Maybe I could,” you ran a hand up your thigh, playing with the hem of you skirt, tugging it up just a bit higher, nearly enough for him to have a peek at what was beneath it. “But there’s this guy I’ve been trying to get at for a while now. Little dense though. Real shame he can’t see how hard I’ve been trying to fuck him.”

“Huh,” his eyes alight, moving from your bared thigh to meet your gaze, a playful smirk on his lips. “Guy sounds like a real asshole. What do you see in him?”

“Eh, he has his moments,” You smiled, tilting your head and turning your torso in his direction, “He is a bit of an asshole. Helps that he’s hot.”

“Well at least this dumb bastard’s got that goin’ for him.” He kicked a leg over the bench, straddling it as he faced you and smirked, “I’d be kicking myself if I were him.”

“Oh, would you?” You mirrored his actions, pressing your skirt against the bench as you kicked your leg over it, “what else might you do if you were him?”

“Well now, that really depends on you,” he shifts forward, weight resting on his hands, sitting just between your spread thighs, “what are you into, baby?”

“How ‘bout I show you? Mind holdin’ this for me?” You smile, keeping your eyes on him as you pull the cigarette from your mouth, blowing the smoke off to the side. Carefully, you place it between his lips, resting your hands on his shoulders as you stand and straddle him.

“Not at all,” it wiggles between his lips as he cups your ass, bringing your hips against his as he rocks forward, grinding his erection against your barely clothed pussy.

You moan, a soft, breathy noise into his ear as you catch the hair at the nape of his neck, tugging to tilt his head to the side. He echoes the noise as you kiss and suck at the skin of his neck.

“You sure you wanna do this here?” He pants, slipping a hand between your thighs and pressing two fingers against the soaked fabric.

“Yes,” you breathe, wrapping an arm around his neck as you trap the cigarette in his mouth between two fingers.

He sucks in, eyes locked with yours as you pull it from his lips and flick it away. His hand comes behind your head to pull you in, your mouth hovering just in front of his as he breathes the smoke out, brushing your lips together. You inhale it, hungry for anything he’s willing to give you, mewling as two fingers slip past your panties, sinking into your core slowly.

“This all for me?” He smirks, placing a chaste kiss on the corner of your lip, before kissing along your jaw as both of your arms wrap around him, your hips shifting to meet the gentle thrust of his fingers.

“Yes, Sir,” you moan, a little too loudly as his thumb circles your clit, and bury your face in his shoulder, “oh, fuck.”

“Tell me what you want, baby,” he picks up the pace, leaning back to watch your expressions. Your mouth falling open, your eyes rolling back as you groan. He smirks, eyes falling over the rest of your body, his cock twitches as the sight of you writhing on top of him. “Least I can do is give you that after makin’ you wait so goddamn long.”

“Fuck me,” it’s a whisper, a plea against his lips as you press your forehead to his.

He captures your lips in the first proper kiss that you share and it’s everything that he is; rough, fiery, and passionate. His lips vibrate against yours as he groans in anticipation, lifting the both of you off the bench enough to wriggle his pants down, his aching cock springing free.

You put your weight on your feet as he lines himself up with your entrance, panting impatiently in his ear while two fingers hook into your panties, pulling them aside. Steadying yourself on his shoulders, you let him guide your hips back on top of his, impaling yourself onto his thick cock.

He grunts, squeezing your ass with one hand as you roll your hips, biting your lip to suppress the strangled cry of pleasure in your throat. Another hand travels up your shirt, exploring your chest and pulling the front of your top up. He pulls the cup of your bra down, pinching your nipple between his fingers as his face settled between the valley of your breasts, littering them with kisses and kitten licks.

“Katsuki,” your head rolls back as you thrust your hips in tandem with him, moaning at the delirious amount of bliss you’ve found yourself drowning in.

Every part of you feels like it’s on fire. All thanks to the thrill of the moment, the heat of his hands on your body. The months of built-up sexual tension finally giving way to something even better than you’d fantasized.

“You’re so fuckin’ beautiful,” he’s breathless, kissing a trail between your breasts, beneath your chin, all the way to your lips as his hands seized your hips, “gonna look so pretty when you cream all over this cock. You’re close aren’t you, baby?”

He smirked as he tugged your bottom lip between his teeth, kissing you deeply when he relinquished it. His hand rested on your inner thigh, thumbing your clit. Your mouth dropped open, ushering moan and moan against the triumphant grin that he wore.

“Gonna cum, oh shit, I’m gonna cum,” you tucked yourself into the crook of his shoulder, biting down as you let go. Your walls spasmed around him, clenching tight enough to bid him to follow you off the cliff. He growled, his eyes falling shut as his feral noises met your breathless whines.

You kept your arms around him, one hand holding the back of his neck as you laid there against him, his arms encircling your waist. The pair of you sat there for a suspended moment, coming down from your highs together as your fingers continued exploring each other’s bodies. Gentle, soothing motions against overly sensitive skin in the afterglow of the act.

“How ya feelin’, sweetheart? Still frustrated?” You felt his lips curl into a proud smile as he kissed your cheek, making his way to your lips.

“Mm,” you kissed him slowly, resting your forehead against his as you both pulled away. “I might need another round, if you’re up for it.”

“You kiddin’ me?” He chuckled deviously, “Better prepare yourself, baby. I’m gonna ruin you if you let me take you home.” His hands trailed over your sides, dragging down your thighs as he squeezed, pulling a quiet groan from your lips as you smiled back.

“I think I can handle you,” you ran a hand down his chest, all the way down, letting your fingers ghost along his already semi-hard-again member, as you whispered with a smirk against his lips, “Dynamight.”

[peakyblindersxx]

whiskey buisness - john shelby x reader (part 5 of ?)

gif by my literal angel @michaelgreys who keeps blessing us like holy fuck

a/n: all i can say is that this is the hottest one yet. as always, my girl @stxdyblr-2k did an amazing job so i hope you all enjoy :) and i'm still working on requests, tysm for all of them!!

love, abi xxx

read part one two three four | my masterlist

tagging: @datewithgianni, @mayaslifeinabox, @deepdonutkid, @springsoulofengland

prompt: john just can't help himself when he sees you with someone else.

warnings: nsfw!!! smut, fluff, angst, light praise kink, john fucking adores you and spends a good amount of time with his head between your legs (yes i know!!!!!)

John had spotted you from across the London nightclub, his table tucked into the balcony area, perfectly positioned to survey the entire club. It'd been over a month since he laid eyes on you last. Sometimes, he wondered if it was possible for you to only get more beautiful every time he saw you. He wasn't surprised, as he'd been warned of your presence by Tommy, but he was unable to stop himself from staring at you, hair neatly styled, scarlet velvet dress clinging to every curve, red lipstick emphasizing your lips, a light haze of pink pressed into your cheekbones, lash-line expertly darkened with kohl. You were dancing with one of Isaiah's friends; the young man was tall and muscular -- a blinder foot soldier, John concluded, draining his glass of whiskey, flagging the waiter down for another.

The young lad was smiling down at you. John took a swig from his drink bitterly, the man obviously head over heels, his eyes bright, excitedly glancing from your lips to your figure. John could feel himself cringe; the younger man had all the subtlety and strategy of a malnourished dog. Then again, who could blame the lad? You were an absolute vision, twirling and giggling, off your face on something Michael had brought. John couldn't help but watch, wishing it was him who had caught your attention tonight, wanting to feel your breath fan across his neck, pulling away while you giggled at his blushing arousal; him whisking you to dark corners to steal a moment of quiet.

He'd tried to get over you but he couldn't. He'd been travelling a lot lately, business in Liverpool, Edinburgh and Belfast; yet in every woman who smiled at him, he found himself searching for you in their eyes, their smiles, their laugh. They were all gorgeous, but his heart simply wasn't in it.

Tonight had started off alright, normal Peaky activity. They'd seized the club only a few hours ago, gaining vital territory in London, bagging their place in the opiate trade and a successful business prospect in one fell swoop. By all accounts, John should’ve been happy, but he'd been too lost in his own mind lately to properly take in the consequences of those sleepless nights with the accounting books, all the hours practicing shooting and boxing, all the endless driving, the meetings, the lingering stench of death which clung to his family. Try as he might, he couldn't enjoy himself. His night got worse the second he spotted you; a yearning for you suddenly flooding his veins. It was easy to get on with life when you were hundreds of miles from him, but when you were a flight of stairs away? He knew the club had countless dark passages to hide away with you, multiple cloak rooms with thick brick walls to take you against: he had to stop his mind running wild. He couldn't. That had to be the last time. You were in his past, you had to stay there. But as he watched you dance with the blinder, he could feel the familiar burn of jealousy swell deep within him. The lad was far too close to you for his comfort, practically grazing his hips to yours. John roughly rubbed his jaw at the sight, silently seething to himself in the shadows.

Thomas studied his brother's body language, taking a slow drag of his cigarette, not understanding the fuss around you. Sure, you were pretty enough; you were bright, apparently funny, but you had never caught his attention really. He observed how John's eyes followed your every move, every sway of your hips closely watched as he held his breath, losing himself to you. He was glad he'd prompted Michael to invite you; this was the most attentive he'd seen John in a month. It was no coincidence that he'd dragged you away from Birmingham, from the watching eyes of the city locals, the wagging tongues in the assembly lines, far from Ada. Michael had admitted to Thomas that it was easy to persuade you, promising you a lift in his new car and a night out as Ada had plans with a gentleman. A night of dancing with your favourite lads and an all expenses paid trip to London? You couldn't resist.

John's jaw had tensed and squared, the man murmuring something against your neck causing you to giggle and grasp his collar. Thomas could tell his brother was practically bristling with jealousy. If looks could kill, the young man clinging to your hips would be long dead from the glare unleashed on him by the tallest Shelby brother.

"You gonna sit there useless or are you gonna fucking do something about it, eh?" Tommy inquired, nudging him with his shoulder.

"I can't."

"No one will know." Thomas pointed out, raising a brow, "The Blinders will say fuck all if they see owt. They keep quiet when it's about us Shelby brothers, yeah?"

John glanced at him, eyes slightly widened, confusion furrowing his brows. "You've changed your fuckin' tune."

"Sometimes, it's good to have secrets. What Ada doesn't know about the events of tonight won't hurt her."

"We don't do secrets. We're meant to trust each other." John objected. "We're a family."

"Nothing will change, John. I'll fix it for you, yeah? You've had a rough few weeks, you should reward yourself."

"She's not a fuckin’ prize, Tom."

"Keep talking that shit and people will get the wrong idea, think you love the woman or sommet." Thomas shrugged, taking a sip of his drink, while John's cheeks flared, his eyes flinching to the floor. He smirks to himself. "You going to go get your lass, then?"

John replied wordlessly, standing and downing the rest of his drink, pulling on his suit jacket, straightening his collar. "I'll catch you later, Tom."

********

The lad was nice, his name had long disappeared into the fog of liquor and Tokyo. He was someone's cousin, but he was polite; charming, almost. Most importantly, he wasn't related to your best friend. Not quite a Casanova type like John, but you two were a good match, everyone thought so. You'd seen him a few times now over the past week. He wasn't much of a talker, but he was a good dancer, and sweet after a few pints.

The band started playing a slower song, Isaiah dancing chest to chest with a beautiful girl across from you. You felt your partner place his fingers on the small of your back, his fingers inching lower, pulling you in closer before the two of you were interrupted by a dark figure looming over you.

"Can I cut in, mate?" A strong Birmingham accent sliced through the air, voice low and polite enough, but with a tone that was laced with venom. "Or are you gonna be a dick about it?"

The lad glanced nervously between you two, moving his hands away from you, embarrassed to be caught by his boss in this state, John staring him down. You slowly pulled away from him, turning to face John.

"Or you could ask me to dance yourself, John?"

John silently glared back at you, his mouth tensed into a thin line. He looked momentarily embarrassed, his attention switching back to your dance partner, the rest of lads silently watching, breaths baited, ready to jump in on the action if the moment required it.

"I'm heading off mate, reckon she's a cocktease." Your partner comments, attempting to diffuse the tension, stepping away, not wanting a fight or to piss off his boss. His path was quickly blocked by another blinder. You shot him an apologetic look and took the large hand John was offering you.

"Or, she's just not interested in you," John quipped, smirking, locking his fingers through yours. "You gonna go get your coat while I finish up with your best mate?"

"Thought we were dancing?"

"You can dance as much as you like in the suite, yeah? Proper gramophone. You coming?"

"You just want me on my own."

"Just tired of the distractions." He told you pointedly, skimming his glare over the group of men, standing with baited breath, preparing for it to kick off.

You rolled your eyes but squeezed his hands, slowly heading to the cloakroom, chatting with the attendant as you watched John confront the lad, keeping your distance. His arms were clutching the lad's lapels, snarling in his face before pushing him back. Michael watched from a few steps away, smoking absentmindedly, spine pressed to a pillar, leaving his cousin to sort out whatever offense he believed the man had caused.

You bundled yourself up in your thin coat, a gift from one of the girls you hung around with as she had recently married a blinder and was being spoiled rotten. The coat's flimsy material was going to be useless against the London night. At least you could count on John to keep you warm on the walk back to the hotel. You headed towards the side door, John's hand quickly finding your lower back protectively as he fell into step beside you. He opened the heavy wooden doors for you, the cold air an instant relief from the heat of the nightclub. You turned back as the door closed, catching a glimpse of the boys closing in on the lad, their eyes gleaming with a violent hunger for action.

"He'll be alright. Daft prick just getting put in his place." John said flatly. He seemed bored but watched you anxiously, begging you with his eyes to drop the subject.

"Is the hotel close by?" You asked casually, as the frigid air swirled around your calves, instantly causing you to shiver.

"I'll get us a cab, love, can't have you in those heels trekking halfway across London town." He stepped fearlessly into the road, unbothered about any potential danger or just forgetful from the whiskey. Quickly, a dark cab pulled up to the cobblestone pavement and John helped you in, taking off his coat and wrapping it around your shoulders before climbing in after you.

As the engine started and the car made its way through London's dimly lit streets to Camden, John's hand found its way to your thigh. You glanced at him, his eyes looking away but his thumb angled against his teeth. He was nervous, having not touched you in a month. You crossed your legs, angling them towards him, his hand shifting higher up your thighs, taking a deep sigh of relief. Your hands found his chin in the gloom of the back of the car, only the occasional bright lights from a nightlife hub or the demure lights of a residential illuminating his face, the angles changing as the cab drove on. It was too much. You'd been needing this for the past month, needing him. Your hands laced around the back of his head and you pressed your lips to his for a brief moment, allowing John to pull you deeper into the kiss. It awoke something familiar inside you, something comforting. Kissing John erased all your homesickness. Christ, you had to stop thinking like this.

"You've not been about for a bit, sweetheart. I know we said never again, but I was hoping you'd come by," John muttered, forehead pressed to yours, breath mingling with yours as he spoke.

"I almost did. The amount of times I nearly visited your office.. I just couldn't do that to you or Ada. Besides, last I heard, you were on tour." You admitted, keeping your voice down to save the cab driver the embarrassment. John caressed your cheekbone with his thumb, tracing the corner of your mouth, prompting a grin from you.

"Last place on earth I'd expected to see you next, it's been hectic my end," He sighed. His eyes were outlined with deep purple smudges of exhaustion, yet he was still devastatingly beautiful even after all the sleepless nights. "It's been too long."

"Not my fault you've been hiding yourself away. You should've called."

"Blame Tommy for that. His solution seems to be sending me on business trips. Trying to make me too tired to handle you." A nervous lick of his lips revealed John’s response to the suggestion that he call you. He wanted to say he would ring next time, but there couldn't be a next time.

"You can barely handle me on a good day, Mr. Shelby."

"Can't blame me. You seen yourself? On the brink as soon as I see you, lass." He teased, earning a gentle shove to the shoulder as you quickly pressed a kiss underneath his chin. You wanted to bring up Thomas' threat, but you bit your tongue, nudging his shin with the toe of your heel in the back of the cab. He rolled his eyes, grabbing your wrists lightly. "Behave yourself in front of the nice cabbie, sweetheart."

You soften at his touch, unable to resist reaching to interlock your fingers, squeezing his hands in yours affectionately. The spirits your table had been bringing you all night definitely boosted your confidence, any hesitancy due to potential rejection drowned out. John pressed his lips to your knuckles in response. He seemed different tonight, far more protective and serious than usual. He was so quiet it was strange, usually yapping your ear off, desperate for you to react, treating him to a giggle, a middle finger or a cutting response. You'd also never witnessed him spark off due to someone's interaction with you. Finn had mentioned a week or so back that John had a shouting match with Thomas and in the moment, your name got thrown up in the conversation, resulting in John taking a swing at his big brother out of frustration. It was confusing. He was willing to start fights over you, punch his brother, yet when you two were alone he was uncomfortably quiet, studying you, lost in his thoughts. His silence only made your body long for him, his fingers tracing patterns in your inner thigh. You let out a small whimper into the crook of his neck, as he instinctively pressed a kiss to your shoulder.

The car pulled up outside the hotel, your pulse racing, the anticipation already threatening to make you give in completely to his wishes tonight. You waited as he turned up his collar against the rain, clambering out of the car to open your door, creatively arranging the coat to hover just above both your heads protecting you from the miserable weather. Although John had referred to the building as a hotel, you could instantly tell the manor was some aristocrat's third or fourth home, obviously being rented out or gifted to business partners for trips. It was an imposing grey stone building, exquisitely carved, although not a country estate, the house was just as large. Was John used to this? It hit you all of a sudden that you'd never set foot inside John's home. You'd heard from Ada that it was overrun with hoards of screaming children. She often joked with the children at the Shelby Institute that if they hung around long enough at John's, he'd assume they were one of his offspring. You'd only ever fucked him in a guest bed. The shame made your stomach churn.

You needed to remind yourself of this when your late night thoughts ran rampant. John could say what he liked, but he'd never actually allow you to get overly personal with him. Whatever confusing mess was winding around your skull regarding him was useless; it was best not to think about it. You went to him every time, yet he would've picked another lass tonight, it was just that you were there. He probably had a string of gorgeous women, older, more accomplished, more experienced, more elegant. He could tell you he missed you, but you could never take for granted that he told you this for any other reason than as a prelude to get you in bed with him. You were his gorgeous mess, but only for the night. It was best to remind yourself to care less than he did. It was the easiest solution in the long term; this way, the downfall would be less brutal.

"You alright, love?" He asked suddenly, breaking your train of thought.

"Sorry, I was thinking about work."

He lived around his brothers for long enough, he could smell bullshit. He decided to let it go. It was best to not push it tonight. Just keep it light hearted, easy, like it was always meant to be.

"If your boss keeps being a prick, you tell Ada. She'll sort him out."

"Don't I know it? He can barely open the door before she starts on about workplace ethics." You joked, earning a small smile instead of his usual bright chuckle. "John, what are we doing here?"

"Well I'm about to take you upstairs and sort you out, yeah? You gonna let me look after you?" He asked, stopping you in your tracks by turning you into him, grabbing your wrist.

"You know that isn't what I meant."

"I know. But can we leave it tonight? Can we just have fun?" He questioned, lips ghosting over yours, fixing you with an intense stare.

"It's fun anymore." Your voice cracked, the liquor in your system making it impossible to control your tone or your facial expressions. "It's fucking with my head, John."

"It's just.. fucking difficult. It's fucking difficult because of who we are." He replied firmly but dropped his makeshift coat shelter around your shoulders, freeing his hands to grab your face pulling it to his, the alcohol making him far needier than he usually appeared. "You, my beautiful Y/N, are a fucking losing game. It's not as easy for me, I can't just dance with a woman and get a leg over-"

"I never said you couldn't."

"I know, I.." He gestured vaguely, lifting one of his hands off your cheeks, and you can feel your head nodding in understanding. "You know, I thought I was going to manage it this time. That I wouldn't be a total fuck up, but then you and that lad-"

"Catch you getting jealous over me."

"Fuck off." He let go of you for a split second but you reeled him back in, resting your palms on the chest of his shirt, the soaked material sticking to his skin. You'd struck a nerve. You decided to push him further.

"I don't know what you're trying to do, Mr. Shelby, disappearing across the country for weeks then coming back and telling me you want me all to yourself?" You played with his collar, tugging his face to yours before pulling back at the last possible second, causing him to let out a frustrated groan, hands itching to feel you underneath them.

"Don't fucking wind me up," He snapped, the intensity between you rekindled momentarily.

"It's worked wonders in the past," You replied, barely able to finish your sentence before his mouth was on yours, his fingers tangling into your hair, kissing you properly. Although you'd kissed so many times prior, this one felt so genuine, as though unleashed from its restraints deep within John. You'd never kissed anyone in the rain before in the middle of the night, and it felt magical. You were shivering but hot all over, burning for John to do something, anything. You could feel his cock through his dress pants, hard against you, prompting you to moan into his mouth.

"Fuck’s sake, Y/N," John grunted into your ear, his hands grabbing at your arse. "You're fuckin’ killing me here. I need you, yeah?"

"Tell me how badly." You responded coyly, linking your arms around his neck, ignoring the late night drizzle.

"I'd rather show you. M’gonna take care of you tonight, make up for the month I've been gone."

"Who's saying I've not been taking care of myself?'

He bit his lip in frustration, trying to stop his mind running wild with the image of you in bed, fingers between your thighs, breasts moving as you arched your back, hips lifting off the mattress, moaning as you called his name -- his jaw clenched. "I know what you're doing. You coming up before you catch a chill?"

You shifted your weight away from him, as if considering your options. He knew your answer; you both knew in a few minutes you'd be upstairs practically tearing his shirt off, needing his skin against yours, begging for him. John pulled away from you, dragging you up the winding path to the front door of the manor, opening the door for you, arm wrapping around your waist. His lips met yours, then your collarbones and neck, prompting a breathy giggle and whine as you wound yourself back around him, craving the contact. The manor was plunged in darkness, staff somewhere in the gloom. Your arrival had definitely been noted, but as with everyone who worked for the Shelbys, they just left you to it. It was easier to not get involved, to keep their heads down and not mention the midnight trysts the brothers got up to.

John knew his path, he'd stayed here before. Even in the dark you could tell the house was decorated to spare no expense, the gaudy paintings and sculptures casting strange shadows. He led you up the grand flight of stairs, then another.

"Worse than Thomas' estate, this place." You murmured quietly, unsure of other guests within earshot.

"I could never live like this. I'd never see my brood again. Getting them ready for bed would be one hell of a nightmare." He whispered back, halting your stride by pulling your hips to his, unable to wait any longer.

"John, what if we get caught?" You asked, pressing your hand against his chest with your palm flat.

"Never bothered you before. Thought you liked the fact that anyone could just walk in and see what a pretty little mess you’ve made for me."

You couldn’t help yourself from pressing an affectionate kiss to his mouth, letting him lay you down and pin you to the stairs, the luxuriously thick carpets scraping into your flesh. He cursed under his breath at the sight of you underneath him, pushing your dress up your thighs, lifting your legs to wrap around his neck, pressing a kiss to your flimsy underwear, glancing up to drink you in. The most beautiful woman in his city, begging for him, figure swamped by his coat, rain soaked and shivering, his mouth between her thighs. He ran his tongue slowly across your clothed core, your pleading moans music to his ears, loving how your thighs tightened around his neck. His tongue traced circles over your clit and labia, the friction generated by the lace of your panties pushing you further, your hands knotting into his hair, spine arching against his mouth.

"No one been looking after you while I was gone. eh?" He asked, pressing kisses to your inner thigh, tugging your panties to the side. "What about your dancing pal?"

"Fuck’s sake, I barely know him, John." You snapped back, teetering on the edge between lust and frustration from his relentless teasing.

"Keep it that way. You don't need ‘im, lass, not while I'm about." He replies before lapping at your slit, interpreting your moans as approval as your head slumped back and you released a low groan. "Y/N, watch me, yeah?"

You pull yourself weakly upwards, propping yourself up in your elbows to be able to look down the staircase at John between your legs in the dark. The view was thrilling, moonlight shining in through the rain on the window, illuminating his face, hair messy and tongue flickering across your clit while he stared up at you, his eyes darkened with lust. You couldn't help but pant, knowing you'd be returning to this moment alone at night, when it was your fingers instead of John's tongue pushing you towards the edge.

"So fuckin' wet and ready for me, aren’t you?" He crooned, sliding his fingers into you, sucking at your clit between flicks of his tongue.

You couldn’t find the words to respond, whimpers leaving your mouth instead, your hips lifting beneath his palms, chest heaving.

"Go on, use your words, clever lass."

"John, fuck.. don't stop," You manage to string together, thoughts too muddled by alcohol and arousal to play hard to get any longer.

"I won't ‘til you cum in my mouth. Need to taste you again, beautiful."

Your head jerked back suddenly as John curled his fingers inside you, pushing up against the spot that made you lose your mind, his name falling from your lips like a prayer, all he could hear except from his blood rushing in his head. Your desperate cries for relief caused his cock to strain against his dress pants, fighting the urge to sort himself out, needing to finish you off. John needed to prove that he could fuck you better than anyone else. He knew he was pushing you to the edge, but he wasn't going to deny you your orgasm. He wanted to make a point with this. His fingers worked faster, his mouth hungry for you, lips moving against your core at a harsh pace.

You groaned loudly, hips bucking involuntarily just to be forced back against the carpet of the staircase. Your breaths grew heavier, warning him how close you were to your peak. John refused to let up, pushing you closer every second, lips latched to your core firmly, lapping up the wetness he'd produced.

"I want to watch you finish." He commanded, you completely at his will now that you'd lost control, lifting your head upwards with the little strength you had left to be able to stare down at his dilated blue eyes. "Good girl. You gonna show me how good I make you feel? You gonna cum for me, doll?"

You couldn't respond, unable to keep your eyes from rolling backwards as you felt yourself suddenly release, John’s name escaping from between your lips, legs shuddering around his neck. He let you ride it out on his tongue, tasting you desperately, watching your expression slowly relax.

Finally, he pulled away from your cunt, unwrapping your legs from his neck. He grabbed your wrist, not letting you retrieve your panties, stuffing them into his trouser pocket. He returned his attention to tracing your slit with the index finger and thumb of his other hand, as he pressed a long kiss to your lips.

"I love how you taste," He murmured against your lips, causing you to flush slightly. John noticed, pressing kisses to your jawbone. "Don't get shy on me now. I've barely started with you. Not even got you to the suite and you've already cum."

He looked so proud of himself, it suddenly clicked for you. He was trying to prove himself to you, for some unknown reason. You know he was protective and quite obviously jealous tonight, but you couldn't believe that John Shelby felt the need to prove that he knew what he was doing, as though you weren't aware. You weren't trekking to his office for mediocre sex. Tonight he let you finish first, no teasing, no denial, no fucking about. Just putting his ability fully on show, so when your mind went drifting it'd go back to him, not some young lad who barely knew what he was doing. His cocky attitude and smug acceptance of his sexual prowess would've been off-putting if it was anyone else, but John, but with his bright smile and constant humour, pulled it off. It was enticing, making your core pool with wetness when he crossed your mind.

"A month is far too long, Mr. Shelby."

"I know, you're practically drooling over me." He teased. He seems a lot more himself than before. He’d been too caught up in his head, too focused on getting you off to enjoy the flirting and teasing. John loved how light-hearted he could be with you. Despite the mess you were both in, it was making you laugh or roll your eyes that soothed his mind. Honestly, if it was just sex he'd have cut you off instantly; he wouldn't have even gone there out of loyalty to Ada. Admittedly, it was your company and presence that had him absolutely on his knees for you, the way he felt understood, less alone in his brother's bullshit, less trapped by his criminal career because you understood. You always had a cutting line, a bright smile just for him, an eye roll at his brothers' daft plans, a choice curse word for Thomas. He didn't even want to consider what would happen after the night ended. He stood, pressing another kiss to your lips as he helped you to your feet, fixing his coat which hung off your shoulders.

"You ready for rounds two through to six?"

"John, you know you won't get through three with me."

"You’re right, you're just too pretty when you’re riding my cock." He teased, the vulgar material of his jibe earning him a joking shove before you curl into his side, letting him escort you up the stairs to the nearest bedroom. He quickly shut the door behind you, scooping you up in his arms, causing you to let out a laugh as he practically tossed you onto the king sized bed, eyes shining with adoration as he looked down at you grinning back up at him.

“You’re something else, John Shelby.”

[whatwouldmickeydo]

“This place is gay as fuck.” 

“And once again, I gotta remind you that you are in fact gay.”

“And once again I gotta remind you that I’m not THIS --“

“If you say you’re not this gay one more time I’m gonna dropkick you. Also, remind me again who threw a hissy fit about chairs and flowers at our wedding? Definitely wasn’t this gay guy.” 

“Whatever man, why are we here again?”

Mickey looks around the market, warily taking in the vast amount of people wandering around with baskets full of food, fresh produce on display under large white tents.

It looks straight out of a hipster paradise wet dream and his lip curls as he watches two men gush over a display of gourmet cheeses. 

“Remember the dinner party we went to with those other gay guys? I asked them about that duck thing they made since you liked it so much and Brendan mentioned this market is where they bought it from.”

That gets Mickey’s attention. 

“Oh shit, are you gonna make that for me?? Damn, you want me to suck your dick right here? ‘Cuz I will. I will definitely be that kinda gay if it gets me that duck again.”

They venture further into the market, Ian searching for the name of the seller who’s got what they came here for (“It’s called Duck Duck Go.” “That is so fucking gay” “Shut up Mick”). 

As they spot the correct booth, Mickey mutters that he has to piss and wanders off in search of a good spot away from people. 

Ian chats up the vendor, describing the dish they ate that night and is happy to find out that they have it on hand along with the recipe to cook it. 

As he waits for his order to be filled, the slight crowd around him pushes him slightly into the man standing next to him. He moves to apologize when the man says, “Holy shit, Ian?”.

He turns to look at his face, taking in the vaguely familiar Asian man currently grasping a basket filled with vegetables. 

“It’s me, Ralph. From ROTC?” Ian wracks his brain trying to remember anyone from ROTC with that name and comes up empty. 

At the slightly blank stare, Ralph chuckles, then says, “We used to hook up under the bleachers?”

That sparks a look of recognition. “Oh wow man, it’s been a long time, how are you?”

“I’m doing great! Actually just got back from --” 

“Yo, you didn’t tell me there’d be free food at this shit, taste this. Giving that duck a run for its fuckin’ money.” Ian and Ralph both turn at the sound of Mickey’s voice, his hand already out to offer Ian the sample of food he’s got on a little plate filled with various meats.

Ralph does a double take. “Mickey Milkovich? This day just got even crazier.”

Mickey eyes the man standing next to Ian. “Who the fuck are you?” he mumbles, mouth full of food, specks flying everywhere.

Ian rolls his eyes, smiling slightly, then says “He was in ROTC with me.” 

That gets a blank stare. 

Ralph chimes in. “You beat me up under the bleachers?”

“I beat up a lot of dudes under the bleachers, that doesn’t narrow down shit.”

Ian chuckles. “You caught us fucking that one time when you got out of juvie.”

Mickey’s eyebrows raise in recognition. “Oh yeah, bottom bitch. I remember you now.” Ian grimaces at that, eyes glancing at Ralph as he rubs the back of his head. The movement makes his ring glint, catching Ralph’s eye. His eyes travel to Mickey, twin ring sitting on his finger as he picks more meat off his plate. 

“Wait, are you guys married? To each other?”

Ian smiles. “Yep. Surprise surprise, heh.”

Ralph glances at Mickey, considering. “So, beating me up was just a cover then.”

Mickey snorts at that. “Nah man, you were just a weak ass bitch. Nothing to do with you taking it up the ass.”

Ian nudges him with his shoulder slightly. “Mick, we’re married now, I think you can stop deluding yourself and admit you were jealous.”

Mickey rolls his eyes. “Whatever princess, I’m gonna get more free samples. You two pussies can keep chattin’ the day away.” Mickey flips them off as he walks away, heading for a colorful booth advertising whiskey samples. 

After finally collecting the duck order and thanking the cashier, they catch up for a bit before Ian bows out to go find Mickey, chuckling about making sure he’s not terrorizing the other vendors. THAT reminds Ralph of the Mickey he remembers, as he imagines people cowering and handing over gourmet merchandise to a threatening Mickey Milkovich. He watches as Ian finds him at the booth a few feet away, hands coming up to squeeze his shoulders before sliding a hand around to squeeze his chest. Ralph’s eyebrows go up at the kiss he plants on Mickey’s cheek, and the pliant way in which he relaxes into Ian’s embrace. 

He’s far enough away from them that it’s not obvious he’s watching, but Ralph still feels like a creep for staring. 

Mickey Milkovich. 

THE Mickey milkovich is not only gay but MARRIED and it’s currently blowing a small gasket in his head. 

He watches as they laugh together at something, Ian’s hand gravitating to Mickey’s waist to pull him forward, Mickey coming easily. They’re talking quietly now, bodies turned towards each other with the air of two people very comfortable in each other’s presence. 

The quick kiss they share before turning to leave the market has Ralph slightly reeling again, Mickey Milkovich in bright neon letters flashing in his head as he tries to reconcile the thug he remembers to this guy right now who’s currently bumping shoulders with Ian Gallagher as they walk away, sunlight streaming, arms knocking together like they’re close to holding hands. They look happy and, as weird as it is to say, very much in love. Shaking his head, Ralph heads back into the market and thinks, wonders never cease.

[myafterlifeisbetterthenyours]

Welcome, Father...

"Tell us, demon scum." The male agent grabbed the light from the female agent, shoving it in his face, "Who do you work for? Satan?"

"How did you get to our world from the afterlife?"

"Why are youse killing humans?"

"When did you show up here?"

The damned agents finally stoped passing the lights about, giving him a moment to adjust to the situation.

"Okay, I'm gonna stop you right there, bitch." He snapped at the humans, "First of all, we just woke up from a very nasty shock and I'm still feeling fuckin' woozy, so I'm gonna request you fetch us some coffee before we get into this. I mean, everyone gets coffees in shitty movies with scenes like this, am I right? I want something iced, bitch." Looking over his shoulder, he asked his employee, "Mox?"

Raising his nose, Moxxie began, "I'll have a Neopolitan cappuccino, more cappu than cino, make sure it's got no more than four ounces of milk, the beans won't have the right texture otherwise, and make sure they spell my name correctly on the cup they always put "Foxy" or "Roxy", I hate that."

"If you can't handle that, I'll have a Venti traditional Misto. Please use soy milk with two blond shots Affogato and Ristretto. I'd also love three vanilla pumps at the very bottom. Then, add the coffee after, then-"

"Enough!" The male agent snapped, "We aren't getting youse coffee!"

"Wow, I was getting massive douche chills just there, Mox." He told him proudly, "Congrats!"

"If we have to, we are willing to resort to torture methods to get answers out of you nasty hell beasts!" The female agent failed to sound threatening.

"When you say "tortured", do you mean physical or psychological?" Moxxie asked in his typical know-it-all tone, "Physical seems counterproductive; we would likely tell you anything if it meant an end to the pain, and you have no way of knowing what was true." He spouted at the humans.

"Or we might like it too much." He but in, "And then you got a whole new thing to deal with."

The male agent leaned down, raising a bore "What do you mean by that?"

"Oh, you're stupid, huh? I can work with stupid. Daddy Likey Dummy!" Blitzø taunted the agent.

"Good one sir, Daddy likey-" Moxxie sputtered, squirming in his chair.

"You better stop laughin' at us." The female agent threatened.

"Yeah! You're the ones at our mercy!" The male agent yelled at him, grabbing his collar

"It's hard to resist, I'm really sorry. I mean, considering your approach thus far, you've had us tied up here for what, hours?" Mox cut in, "And you haven’t even had us confirm what exactly we are!" Moxxie mocked the agents like the nerd he was.

"What are you?" The female agent asked, a curious tone coming to the females voice.

"I'm a Virgo." Moxxie told her, smugness dripping from his voice.

Both Imps burst into laughter, the agents only getting more frustrated.

Just as the male agent was gonna snap at them, the door to the room suddenly swung open.

An unnatural amount 9f light poured into the room, blinding them all for a brief moment. Once there eyes adjust, they found a silhouette standing in the doorway.

They were dressed in black, looking up a distinct shine came from his eyes, the figure wearing glasses.

Walking into the room, the figure spoke, "The question isn't what they are? The question is why there here?" He spoke cryptically.

Stepping closer the male agent came to meet the stranger halfway, "Who da Hell ah' you and how'd you get in here?" The male agent demanded.

Raising his gaze the stranger wore a smile.

The agent noticeably reacted. Stumbling back "F-f-f-father Cain... W-what are you's doin here?" He sputtered.

This 'father' just smile at him, "My associates informed me you acquired two new specimens." He looked at him, "I've come to process them." He spoke menacingly.

Father cain looked over the agents shoulder, gazing at him and Moxxie. "Excellent job My child. I always knew my faith was well placed." The father told the agent, patting his shoulder.

The agent seemed taken aback, "Th-thank you Sir." He spoke, a lone tear sliding down his cheek.

"Father Cain?" The female agent asked, walking up to 'father' Cain. "Last I heard you were down at some beach on Spring break."

Smiling at the pair, father cain raised a finger, "Ive no time for such hedonistic pleasures. Not while the Lords work is to be done" He said happily.

"Now" He began cheerfully "I need a table if I am to do my work." He spoke firmly, raising a medium sized doctors bag, that seemed to appear from nowhere.

The male agent snapped to attention, quickly running about before rushing into the back room.

Walking forwards, Father Cain removed his glasses, staring down at him. "My, my, my, they certainly did a good job. Quite a pair of specimens you have here." He spoke to himself.

Raising a brow, Blitzø wore a little grin. "Oh yeah? You should see my junk, now thats a specimen." He spoke in his usual cocky tone.

'Father' Cain just smiled, slowly walking around to Moxxie inspecting him as well. "And unharmed, very impressive." The 'Father' told the female agent.

A moment later, the male agent returned, awkwardly dragging in a large wooden table. Dropping it down, he gave a few deep puffs, "There ya go 'Fatha', will this do?"

'Father' Cain smiled told him, gratefully telling him "That will do perfectly, thank you my child."

Walking over, the 'Father' placed his bag down before opening it and pulling out a myriad of odd and strange objects.

There was a series of shiny items and tools. Although a small wooden case caught his attention, the Imp couldn't help but think it didn't belong.

"Hey, uh, you guys seem pretty chummy and we'd hate to be a third wheel, so we'd be happy to leave you to it." He cut in smugly, hoping to get a rise from one of them.

And that he did, the male agent trying to snap at him, only to be tempered by this 'Father' Cain

Calming down, the male agent asked, "What did you mean, when you came in Sit. That it's not "What they are, it's why there here?'"

Smiling, Father Cain patted his shoulder, "I'm glad you caught that, I always knew you were sharp."

He smoke warmly, "I said that because, simply put. I know what they are. They are Imps." He said it simply.

That actually surprised him, even Moxxie reacted, releasing the slightest gasp.

Looking over the father just had a eerie smile, clearly happy with there reaction.

Both agents looked confused, "Imps?" They asked each other.

The father released a deep sigh, "Yes, Imps. Imps are the very lowest of the low in hell, as well as the lowest of the Hellbornes, or Hellspawn, I can never seem to remember which is the proper term."

Walking over, Father Cain placed a finger under his chin, raising his head to meet his gaze. "Your responsible for the death of a two hundred and sixty three humans." He told him coldly.

"Yeah, but I wanna know is why?" The female agent asked, "If they were just killing humans for shits and giggles, why not just kill wherever and whenever?" She asked.

Nodding his head, "Because..." Father Cain stood up, "They do serve a higher demon, but not Satan."

Standing up, the 'Father' walked to his bag, pulling a yellow folder out. "They've killed hundreds, and the only thing that connects them...? Death."

There was another pause, before he spoke again, "But not there deaths. Each person they've killed has had someone directly related to there lives die in the past decade."

Walking over to the Imps, the 'Father' showed them a series of pictures. Blitzø recognised them... they were targets they'd killed.

"There not killing them for a demon lord, there killing them for other human souls. I imagine with a the ability to travel to the human world, you've turned revenge into a buisness." He said simply, tossing the pictures to the side.

Crouching down, the 'Father' stared at him coldly before asking "Who's book did you use to get here, Demon?"

Blitzø stared back at him, the Imp doing his best to keep calm. But he could tell this human was clearly more dangerous than the other two idiot 'demon hunters'.

Standing up, 'Father' Cain told the other agents coldly, "Leave us. Remove any cameras. I dont want any sort of witness."

"What?" The female agent asked aghast, "We caught these 'Imps' there our score and we'll be interrogating them." She snapped at the 'Father', only for the the father to calmly stare at her.

Before he could speak, the male agent grabbed her by the wrist, dragging her out of the room he spoke hastily "P-please forgive her, Sir. She doesn't fully understand the importance of your work."

The female agent put a fight, but was quickly pulled out of the room, slamming it behind him.

Now with just the three of them, 'Father' Cain removed his glasses before placing them on the table.

Stretching his neck, he removed the white collar piece at the front of his shirt, placing it in his coat pocket.

"Now" he began coldly "shall we begin the fun?"

Turning around, Blitzø decided now was a good time to speak up. "Fun, aye? What kinda fun we talkin. Shots, blow, maybe a good old fashioned threesome?" He asked, hoping to get under this 'Father' Cain's skin.

He was surprised, however, when the 'Father' just laughed, glancing over his shoulder at him.

"Your tricks won't work on me demon. I'm used to your tricks by now." He spoke happily, grabbing a small gun like object. Placing that down, he inspected a series of bottles.

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Blitzø spoke up. "You clearly know more us then those dumbass agent dickwads did, so... what's your game?" He asked, trying to be serious.

The human stopped for a moment, looking over his shoulder, he spoke up, "I know much about you. For instance, your the other Imps boss, hence he calls you Sir." He spoke coyly, still inspecting the myriad of items he'd brought.

"I also know you've killed people on three different continants, although I wonder how many you came up to kill specifically and how many were collateral." He spoke again.

Turning around he held a small bottle, walking forwards he leaned over Blitzø "I also know you can only get to the living world if your a succubus, a demon lord, or... you have a Grimoire."

Blitzø chuckled, "What is that some kinda fish?" He asked, trying to play dumb.

The 'Father' chuckled, shaking his head, "Besides how do you know I'm not a succubus, I can hold my own in the sack." He spoke smugly.

The 'Father' stared at him, an eerie smile crossing his lips.

"You want to know how i know what you are?" He asked coldly, cold eyes sending a shiver down his spine and not in the good way.

Before he could ask what I was, the father reach forwards, ripping a hole in his pants leg. "What the fuck?!" He yelled at him, "These are my good pants!"

Not minding him, the 'Father' removed a second bottle. "This" He showed him a small blue bottle, "Is poisen to Succubus." He said simply, opening the bottle and revealing an eye dropper, dropping two little droplets on his leg.

Nothing happened, the cool liquid sliding down and observing into his pant leg. Putting the bottle away He showed the original brown bottle, "This... is for Imps." He said simply.

Opening the bottle, it revealed another eye drop, holding it over his thigh, he dropped a single drop on his leg.

This time his whole body reacted, he pulled against his bindings as he released a blood curdling screech.

It felt like someone was jamming a molten hot poker into his thigh. It went on for minutes, the Imp whining in pain. "What the fuck do you want you sick fuck?!" Blitzø yelled at him.

A small smile crossed the 'Father's' lips before he stood up and told him "I want to show you something."

Walking over to the table, he grabbed that wooden case before bringing it over to the Imps.

Crouching down besides the both of them, he told the both of them "These are my most prized possessions." He spoke warmly, running his hand across the wooden case.

"What'cha got there? Ya dildo collection?" He tried to sound smug, though the Imp was still writhing in pain.

He heard moxxie tried to laugh, but it died in his throat, the smaller Imp still terrified by his boss's earlier reaction.

Opening the case, he revealed several colourful arrow heads, each one varying in size, shape and colour.

It took a long time, the imp looking over the arrow heads before he realised, 'Those aren't arrow heads... there demon tails.'

"Fuck..." Blitzø gasped, he heard Moxxie sputter out a similar cuss, just as scared behind him.

The 'Father' on the other hand, seemed quite proud, gently trailing his fingers across the tail heads.

"These are my life's work" He spoke calmly, "I've dedicated my life to hunting demons like you." He trailed his fingers across the tails, "Most of these are from Succubus. They can come and go from my world to yours the easiest, so most of the demons we find are Succubus."

He pointed to two crimson tail tips, "But these two... these two are special."

Leaning in, he spoke gently "These two... are from Imps." The revelation seemed to bring bile into the back of Blitzøs throat.

"Jesus..." moxxie said shakily, turning his head and throwing up.

Blitzø took a deep breath, doing his best not to throw up. Looking back at the human he found him holding up a tail head.

"This one" he told him, twirling it between his fingers, "I got at a little beach city. The city getting my attention after a giant demonic fish had popped up. Sound familiar." He asked with a smirk.

"Unfortunately most of them had used there demonic charm to escaped the police before I arrived... key word being, 'most'." He told him, turning his attention back on the tail head.

"I got this one from a succubus. She hid herself as a chubby little black woman. She played dumb, just like you, and much like you she was cocky and ignorant." Placing the tail tip into the container, he said coldly, "But now..."

He left the question open, clearly trying get in there heads. The problem being... it was working.

Standing up the human didn't speak for several long moments, before he placed the case on Blitzøs lap, gently telling him "Hold this"

Blitzø's whole body froze up, a deep sickness growing in his stomach as he felt the cool wooden case on his lap.

The human walked over to the mirror Blitzø only just noticed. The human stared at it for a long moment, the silence in the room becoming palpable.

Until the silence was dashed when the 'Father' smashed his arm through the mirror, before throwing his body back smashing the male agent through the mirror and slamming him into the wall.

Looking at his slumped form, 'Father Cain turned back to the now broken mirror, finding the terrified female agent standing there.

Releasing a deep sigh, the 'father' began climbing in through the now broken double sided mirror.

"It was your doing, wasn't it?" He asked, "I said I needed no witnesses, but you always did hold him back. What a waste of potential." The 'Father' told her, before grabbing her and dragging her through the window.

Bringing her to her knees, he grasped the sides of her head.

The woman desperately clawing at his arms. The female agent releasing a desperate cry for mercy as he began crushing her head.

Blood began trailing from her eyes and nose, crying out until her head splattered between his hands, sending a splatter of bone and brain matter across his face.

Dropping her now destroyed head, he realised it, the now sludge like head hit the ground with a wet splat.

Before the 'Father' flicked his hands, looked back at the Imps, "What the fuck are you?!" Blitzø yelled at him.

The human only smiled, walking over, he gently grabbed the wooden case before walking back over and placing it on the table.

Walking over to the now collapsed male agent, he placed his foot on the side of his head. "I... am alpha and Omega." He said coldly, staring him right in the eyes before crushing the other agents head beneath his foot.

Walking back to the table, he grabbed a red cloth, wiping his face before placing on his glasses he turned to the two Imps.

"Oh Satan... Oh, Satan please, please help me" Moxxie begged, clearly losing his shit. "Please just let me see Millie one last time, I don't want to die."

Before Blitzø could snap at his limp dick employee for showing weakness, the roof began to rumble, bit suddenly gave way, Millie falling through carrying a battle axe.

"MILLIE!!!" Moxxie practically cried, tears of joy beading in his eyes.

"MOX!" Millie cried back, rushing over and getting them out of ther bindings.

Just after that Loona broke through the door, Blitzø taking a moment to tell her how proud he was to see her in the field.

Now all free and together they turned to the 'Father', finding him still very much cool and collected, the sight sending a bone chilling shiver down his spine.

"Just in time" The human spoke, seemingly happy at the outcome "Its so good to see a family reunited."

"Now I imagine one of you have my Grimoire?" He asked inspecting his fingers. "Give it to me and I'll let you leave."

Now it was Blitzøs turn to chuckle, "Nah, I don't think so." He spoke cockily, reaching into his emergency pack for a gun.

The 'Father' just chuckled again, standing up straight he snapped his finger. And like it were choreographed, dozens of suit wearing humans burst into the room.

"Gentlemen!" He addressed them "These demonic scum have killed your commanders. And they shall do it again and again and again, until you send them back to hell." He told them, stepping into the back room.

The fight after that was one of the best Blitzø had ever had, although it would have been even better if he didn't have this injured leg.

Regardless, the whole thing was so bad ass and everyone was working together so well. He even got to see his Loony kick some ass.

Firing a missle, from his over sized launcher, he cleared what was left of the agents.

He'd though that was it, there weren't anybody left to stop them.

He was wrong.

The lights to switch to red, an alarm start blaring through the facility.

They all made for the door, only for a series of doors to slam in there face, locking them in the room.

His Loony tried desperately to read the book, but couldn't see anything in the crimson light that filled the room

It was then he heard a slow clapping, all of them turning to find the 'Father' giving them a condescending clap.

"Well done, Hellspawn, Well done. You've killed all the witnesses, depleted your ammunition and now I know you can't read the Grimoire in crimson light. Well done."

Standing before them, even outnumbered and unharmed, the 'Father' seemed to hold total control of the situation.

Before he could think of something any, all the air seemed to such out of the room, demonic whispers filling the room like shadows.

"You dare threaten my Impish little plaything~" the whispers spoke.

He knew this voice, but like his friends and family, he chose not to speak, too caught up in the moment.

Screens flew off the wall, avian footprints trailed across the floor. The bodies of the dead agents rose to there feet, eyes black as they began the intricate process of drawing some demonic symbol from there own blood.

Stepping back the 'Fther' looked about, before smiling, "Finally" He whispered, pulling out a flask and began chugging it.

Shadows seemed to slither like a million black snakes crawled across the floor, disappearing at the 'Fathers' feet.

There was a long pause before the human bent over and violently projectile vomited, throwing up what seemed like gallons of black liquid from his mouth.

The vomiting stopped, the human standing back up.

The back liquid slowly pulled itself to gathering, slowly morphing into a figure.

The black tar slowly formed into feathers, limbs and fingers, a set of crimson eyes appearing in the black goo.

The figure appeared to be Stolas. But this was not the elegant demon lord of hell.

This being was a wretched, wounded animal, covered in filth.

The 'Father' just wiped his mouth, that cold gaze returning to his eyes. Stepping forwards he grabbed Stolas by the filthy collar, staring him down.

The owl demon was a sputtering mess, coughing up black liquids as he tried to breathproperly.

The owl looked up at him.

And for the very first time in wjat was likely a millennia of existence, Stolas looked Terrified.

Not scared.

Terrified.

Grabbing at the arms of the human, the Prince of Hell sputtered out, "W-what are you?"

The human stopped, looking down at the owl, leaning down and whispered, "I am the beginning... and i am the end..."

The owl just stared up at him in horror, the humans hand coming to wrap around his throat, the demon feebly attempting to break free from his grasp.

There was a long moment where the only sound in the room was the prince's pitiful wheezing, frail little cries coming from the owl as the life was squeezed out of him.

The sounds were seemingly corked by a wet smack ringing out.

Blitzø had taken one of the agents weapons, a large knife and had impaled the 'Human' through the lower stomach.

There was a long moment of silence, before the 'human' slowly turned to look at him with that same cold gaze.

Without releasing Stolas, he pulled his arm back and smacked Blitzø, sending him sliding back to his friends.

Reaching down, he grabbed the knife, yanking it out of his back without hesitation.

Nothing came from his wound, and when pulling the knife out, no blood stained it's blade.

With knife in hand, he released the owl, letting his pathetic form hit the ground, the owl desperately gasping for breath.

Leaning down, you grasped Stolas' wrist, the owl releasing a pathetic little gasp of pain, followed by a frail little whimper as the 'Human' slid the blade across his wrist.

But what came next left them all shocked.

Bringing his wrist to his mouth, he pressed his mouth down before greedily suckling the foul blood straight from his veins.

He drank down the demons fowl blood, not making a sound cept the muscles of his throat contracting to push the fowl liquid down his throat.

The demons black blood flowed down his throat. Every demon in the room just watched, to shocked to think and to fearful to do anything as you had your way with the Prince.

After a few minutes of the 'Father' drinking the demons blood, he finally released the demons wrist. The owl quickly clutching his wrist to his chest as he desperately clawing to get away from the 'human'.

The 'Father' stood there, panting as a demons black blood stained his lips.

When he finally opened his eyes, they held a Unholy glint to them.

Wiping his lips he walked forwards, calmly packing what few items had survived the fighting into his bag before Putting on his glasses and placing the small white band into his shirt collar.

Walking past the now cowering demon Prince, he leaned over and pressed one of the buttons on the dashboard, instantly the lights returned to normal.

Stepping before the group they awaited some sort of attack, or threat, what they got instead was a single phrase "Excuse me."

He said it so simply, each hellborne took a moment to make sure they'd heard correctly.

Each of them just stared for a moment before Millie spoke up, "What?"

The human raised a brow, lowering his glasses he asked again, this time his voice cold, threateningly cold, "Excuse me."

The demons awkwardly stepped to the side, giving him a clear path to walk.

Walking past them he gave them a slight nod, "Thank you."

The demons were all in shock, silently watching the 'human' walk away from them.

"That's it?" Blitzø asked before he could stop himself, quickly slamming his hands to his mouth.

The 'Father' stopped in his tracks, looking over his shoulder, he smiled, "Kill you later." He told them playfully, lowering his glasses and giving them a wink.

He walked away, the eerie sound of his shoes on cold tile floors permanently burned into there memory.

Hey Hey, I hope you enjoyed. I really wanted to try something a bit different. I had the idea for this in my head since episode 6 came out and I just really like the idea of an unknown entity showing up with either motive or intentions clear to anyone.

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed, I really wanna start writing more of my own original ideas, so expect more content in the future. Bye Bye.

[devilrainbunnie]

Midnight Train

Dabi x Fem!Reader

cw: smut 18+ minors DNI, chikan, dubcon/noncon, pet names, pervy dabi

You stood in the train station, feeling a bit out of place. Looking around at your surroundings, and wondering when your train was going to arrive. It was running a little too late for your liking. Not to mention the fact that it was late, and cold, you didn’t even have a coat. You were wearing a long sleeved shirt, a short black skirt, and matching thigh highs with some simple school girl like shoes. Which was kind of ironic for you to wear. At the moment, you were currently in your second year of university. Just coming back from an outing with your friends, and cutting it off early because you had work the next morning. You were always overly cautious anywhere near trains, just due to the nature of pervy men, and the amount of times you’ve had experiences with them. Not even to mention how intense it is around this area. You berated yourself internally for deciding to wear something like this out, but now you had no choice but to just try and deal with it for now.

Absent-mindedly you scrolled on your phone, to give you some sort of distraction from the anxiety you felt beginning to stir in your stomach, tightening your thighs together, and keeping your purse close to your body. Then soon, the sounds of a fast moving vehicle, and wheels breaking to a halt brought you out from beneath your phones gaze. Looking up to greet the train. You patiently waited until it’s gears locked into place, and the doors opened. Waiting until the small crowd of people walked out of the cart, and then following into it. The cart was decently full of people. But to your absolute demise, there was some substance on some of the seats that looked like a spilled milk tea boba. Which was why you had to stand. Opting for the back of the cart that had some people also standing around. One of them meeting your gaze. Hooded, cerulean eyes following behind you, as you reached your spot to stand. He must’ve got on with me, you thought to yourself. The person was a bit of distant from you, staring at you without remorse. It was hard to make out their features with the large hood they wore over their head, and it made you anxious. Holding your body closer to itself.

He was looking at you like a predator stalking prey, hungry, and ready to devour. A look that quite honestly was making your heart absolutely flutter against your rib cage. Then you did something kind of stupid, pulling out your phone again, and trying to focus all of your attention on it. Trying to pay the hooded man no attention, out of your peripherals, you saw him lift his hood back. But again, you were too scared to see what he looked like. No matter how intense your curiosity was. After a short while into the trip following that, you checked again to see if he was there, and surprisingly he wasn’t. 

That’s when you froze, instantly recognizing the feeling of someone standing just behind you. Too scared to gaze behind you, and the train suddenly causing the cart to jolt, your body mushed right against his, as your wobbly knees made you unstable on your feet. Perfect timing.

“S-Sorry!” you cried out, lurching yourself forward. His body following yours.

“It’s quite alright, doll face.” a husky voice whispered behind you. “I like your skirt, it’s cute on you.”

You didn’t respond to this, your blood was running cold, and your breath hitched inside of your throat. He made it a point to step closer to you, the heat radiating off of him was almost too much. The stranger was only an inch or so from touching your body, a hand reached to you hair, tucking it to the side as he leaned in. Body flush with yours, as he whispered to you. “It’s not nice to ignore people when they compliment you.”

“I’m s-sorry.”

“Is that all you know how to say?”

“I-I’m sorry I’m not trying to offend you--”

“Oh baby, you already did though. You hurt me real bad. Don’t you think I deserve something for my bleeding heart?” he taunted. Hands traveling in different directions, his large hand groping the flesh of your ass. This stranger just reached under your skirt to grab you, and  you to let out a little yelp, and his hand colliding with your mouth forcefully. “I don’t think you want to find out what happens to little girls who are loud, and bratty. I’m not gonna hurt you baby, just be a good girl, an’ let me take care of ya.” he raised the hand from your mouth to show you the tiny blue flame in his palm. Instinctively you shuddered, gulping down the lump in your throat. “Am I understood?”

You nodded, he grabbed your jaw, which forced you took look at him as his head appeared by you shoulder. “Use your words, like a good girl. Remember what we talked about?” he was quite attractive, despite all of the deep scars on his face. His black locks framing his face evenly, and looked quite fluffy. His scars looked painful, and so did all his staples. The piercings on his nostrils were cool though-- despite that, he looked like he had been through hell and back. It made you all the more confused, he was good looking enough to score any girl he wanted. Even with all of the scars and staples, girls probably drooled over it. So why did he bothering harassing you on a train? The man was probably just a full blown predator, and it made you start to panic worse.

“Y-yes, I-I’ll be quiet. I’ll be good.” you said with a wavering voice, tears forming in your eyes at the situation. 

“Mmm, such a good girl. Nice an’ sweet, just like I like ‘em.” he murmured against your neck, leaving a wake of wet kisses across it. Taking some experimental bites to try to find your sweet spot, and when he did, you writhed against him. Letting out the cutest little whimper. “Look at you, you’re so fuckin’ sexy.” he was thankful he spotted you initially, he really found a prize that night.

He was walking back from a bar, and he saw you approaching the train station. You looked so sweet, so soft, and so easy to taint. The way your squishy thighs looked in your socks, and how your ass’ curve was more prominent due to the skirts little ruffling drove him to you. Eyes lingering over ever inch of your body, he needed you the second he saw your cute face too. He just knew you were a sweet little girl, and he wanted to taste you before he lost you for good. Honestly, you were such a good girl for him right now he debated on taking you home. Sure, you’d be a lovely little pet to have around the house. He could sure use the company, and you were just so goddamn cute. The man would love to wake up every morning to face fuck you, or violate you a little bit before he started his day. I mean how could he not— just look at the way your pretty e/c eyes leaked tears out, and your plump lips pouted as his fingers dove for your pussy. So pretty.

This sick man decided to lick your face to wipe away the tears from your stained, heated cheeks. His long, calloused fingers rubbing against your clothed slit, making your hips buck at the pleasure of it. Little strangled moans being held down in your throat. Waiting for your slick to seep through the pretty light blue cotton, and keep it for later. “Has anyone ever touched you like this before? Hmm? Does it feel good?”

“N-No, plea-ah, please j-just stop.” you cried out, sniffling after you choked out the words. His fingers began to push your pretty little panties to the side, moving his fingers up and down your cunt. Finally able to feel that you were actually becoming a bit wet, he chuckled behind you. You let out a soft moan, the first one he was able to actually get out of you.

“Mm, you’re getting more wet by the second. You sure?” he teased. His opposing hand sleeping inside of your sweater, pushing a breast out of its cup, and squishing the flesh in his palm. Tweaking the nipple between his fingers, arching your back and wincing at the pleasurable pain. “You’re so sensitive, and I haven’t even put my dick in you.”

“Pl-please. I- just want to g-go home.” you whimpered as he continued to violate you, finding your clit and pinching the bud between his fingers. Watching as your breaths became ragged, and the way your knuckles turned white as you held on to the metal pole. The way his fingers were working against your untouched pussy right now, was making it drool. You hated how much that was turning you on.

“Turn your head.” he commanded, and you did. Meeting once again, his face at your shoulder, this time his hand slipped from your breast. Grabbing the opposing side of your face and slamming your lips against his. Surprisingly, his kiss wasn’t at all overbearing, or forceful as you thought it was going to be. It was slow, and somehow passionate, despite the situation. You kissed him back, just trying to be compliant. His lips were soft, despite his lower lip being badly damaged, and he knew how to use it well. The hand quickly knotted itself in your hair, causing you to gasp, and open your mouth for him. His wet muscle tangling in with yours, and with that, a deep guttural groan left the back of his throat. Combined with your little whimpers, created an odd symphony of pleasure.

With your mouth occupied, two of his fingers began running across your slit. Gathering the arousal between his fingers to act as lubricant. Then plunging the digits straight into your throbbing, and tight hole. Which made your body act on instinct, and you gasped loudly in his mouth. He pulled back, chuckling at how much you were reacting now. Panting like a bitch in heat, biting back a plethora of moans inside of your throat. He really wanted to hear you crying out to him, and moaning, but he didn’t want to cause too much of a scene. Who knows, if he’s really feeling up for risking everyone’s safety, mostly his own for some snatch— he’ll fucking do it.

“Do you feel good?” he asked you, kissing up your jaw again.

“Y-yes.” you whispered, your small hands struggle to stay up against the pole. The pace of his fingers began to speed up, causing a horrid squish-y sound to be heard in the atmosphere around the two of you. He was practically cumming at the sound of your wet sex being violated and how well you were taking him.

“Mm, I wish I could hear all those pretty sounds you’re tryin’ to hold back. God, you are just killin’ me tonight.” he moaned into your ear, taking it upon himself to start feverishly pepping your skin with his kisses as he pumped you closer, and closer to your end. 

He began noticing the way you were starting to clench against him, he assumed you were beginning to enjoy yourself fully now. His other hand snaked its way down your body to toy with your clit again as well, without intent, you mewled at the sensation. One of your hands coming you to cover your mouth, you anxiously looked around the cart. For some reason, no one was looking. Either they really didn’t want to look, or they were utterly disturbed by the sight in the far corner of the cart. Since no one was paying attention, you decided to act purely on desire since you were now worked up. Letting go of the pole you were holding on to, which the man behind you was quick to notice, thinking you were about to try to fight him off, the hand toying with your clit put a bruising hold on you midsection. You winced, both at the sudden loss of your breath, but also the fingers now violently crashing into your cunt, his breath ragged in your ear, causing a chill to run down your spine. “C-can I turn around?” you asked him. His movements stopped, you couldn’t see but he was looking at you completely dumbfounded.

“Why?” he said, sounding a little offended.

“Well t-there’s not a-lot of people in here. No one i-is going to care, I... liked uhm, kissing.” you murmured shyly, feeling pathetic and disgusted with yourself for wanting more. But the throbbing inside of your womb was now becoming almost unbearable, you could use something to take the edge off.

“What’s your name, baby?” he asked, his chin now resting against your shoulder.

“F/n, why?”

“F/n... you’re very naughty, you know that? I mean what kind of dirty slut wants to start kissing someone who just grabbed ‘em on the train? Maybe I was right, you are a special girl, huh?” he was quick to turn you around, pulling his hood back over his head, but not all the way. Your bodies were touching, and resting against the pole. So that way you could actually look at him. The fingers that were inside you, stuck straight into his mouth. Cleaning off your natural essence off his fingers like he had eaten the best meal he’d ever had. “At least you taste good. Sweet. Like fuckin’ honey or somethin’. C’mere pretty, I’ll let you try.” he leered down at you, his jagged scars twisting up in a cocky smile. Grabbing you by the back of your head, and crashing his lips against yours, sucking your bottom lip into his mouth immediately, snaking a hand of his into your hair. The other one traveling down south once again, pushing right into your slippery walls. Mewling against his tongue.

The sight must’ve been so erotic, they way you were pulling his face closer to yours by holding the back of his neck. Moaning, and panting into the heated kiss. His fingers inside of your pussy scissoring, and harshly pressing right against your cervix. God his fingers are so long.

He yanked your head back, looking at your features. Drinking in the sight of your half lidded eyes, kiss swollen lips and flushed expression. Your eyes silently begging him to keep at it, removing your arms from his. The man bit his lip, leaning back a tad to put his hand around your neck, reveling at how pretty and soft you looked like this. His hand never stopping it’s assault inside of you. “Sweet, right?”

“Y-yeah.”

“How close are you?” he asked, picking up his pace.

“Mmm, c-close. So close. Nngh.” The hand around your neck squeezed harder at the sides, making your eyes roll back as the thrusts of his hand picked up. The man stood over you once more, watching how your eyes kept rolling back into your skull, and how you biting so hard on your lip he was worried it might split. 

“Dabi.” he said, waiting for you to reply, and giving your neck a break from the squeezing. 

“H-Huh?” 

“My name, I want you to say it. Say it when you’re cummin’, I want you to remember who made you feel this good.” he kissed your cheek. “Will you be a good girl, an’ do that for me?”

“Yes D-Dabi. I’ll- be good.”

“You’re completely falling apart with just my touch.” he chuckled, leaning to your ear again, his hands dropping from your neck, to your thigh. Feeling to flesh of your ass again, this time he tried to hold your thigh to his hip, like he was expecting you to let him carry you. But in all honesty, it’s so he could rut his hips against your thigh and try to pretend for a second he was fucking you. Dabi reveled in the feeling of your soft skin against his fingertips. Bet it would feel even nicer against his dick. “I could fuck you right now, just whip out my cock, and stick it right in. I bet you’d like that huh? Me fucking you in front of all these people? I bet you wouldn’t even try to be quiet. Dirty, dirty girl. Maybe I should, huh-”

“No! No, p-please not here. Not in public. P-please Dabi.”

“I like seeing you beg like that, so I won’t this time ‘round.” he attached his mouth to your neck. Making it a point now to mark his territory, and watch you squirm. Wait-- this time around?! In that moment, you felt you were seconds away from bursting and his words meant nothing. His fingers inside of you continued to curl, and push you in all the right places. Your body quickly beginning to flood with a familiar euphoric sensation, knees growing weak, and the blissful feeling of stomach growing tight was all you could think about.

“D-Dabi.” you mewled out, mouth left to hang open. Your hands quickly clutching the jacket he was wearing, trying to feel like you had some control. “Please d-don’t stop, p-lease- oh!” 

He stared into your face as you grew closer. Dabi liked how hard you were tugging at his jacket, it confirmed for him that you were actually growing a lot closer than he thought. Despite the feeling of your gooey walls clenching around his fingers as if it was trying to suck them in. “Cum for me baby, you’re so close.”

“Dabi-- oh God, fuck- Dabi!” you cried out, a little bit louder than you intended. The coil in your stomach finally snapped, releasing the overwhelming feeling of your formerly restrained orgasm. Your tight cunny was clenching vigorously around him as he continued to pump into you, enjoying as you struggled to breathe due to how hard you had just came. Every inch of your body was jolting, trying to adjust to the come down of the feeling, and the man above you was watching with a smile. Dabi brought his free hand up that wasn’t covered in slick, and wiped some sweat, as well with stray hairs from your face. 

“Open up.” he said, removing his hand from your aching, and pleased cunt, shoving them into your mouth. Suddenly alarmed by the feeling of tasting your own arousal, and having his fingers try to climb their way down your throat. “Suck.”

So that’s what you did-- suck on his fingers, and he pumped them as well. Watching your pretty mouth try to take all of his abuse, and after he deemed them clean enough, he pulled them out. “You did so well for me tonight. We a couple minutes left of this ride, let’s make out.”

Before you could even respond, his tongue was already in your mouth and silencing you. During the time it took for you guys to get to your train stop, you did exactly that. Passionately making out for all to see, against a pole inside of a train cart. His hands palming your ass under your skirt like before, and your hands running through the tendrils of inky black locks. Honestly, you really should feel more ashamed than you currently are. Making out with the same man who was making you cry not even fifteen minutes ago, and letting him grind his erection against your thigh. But, you needed to fix that ache in your womb. You needed someone, or something, to make that coil snap.

Then soon, the train was beginning to halt to a stop, and the two of you pulled away. Your hands still locked into his hair. Holding his face close to yours. “That was fun, but I oughta head off now. I’ll be lookin’ out for you, so don’t do anything stupid, or run off on me.” you nodded, feeling threatened by his words, but also excited at the opportunity to see him again. Never in a million years would you think this of all things would happen, but it wasn’t anything to complain about. He pulled you in for another kiss, and following it by pressing another one to your cheek. “Get home safe now, ‘kay?”

“Okay.” you said in a hushed voice, as he pulled away from your body. Pulling his hood further over his face. Leaving you a stick, sweaty mess in the now emptying train. Adjusting your skirt, and top, combing through your now horribly messed locks. 

Before stepping out, you got a disgusted look from an older woman in the back of the cart. Shaking her head at you. But it made you let out a little laugh, stepping out of the cart on to the platform. Eyes scanning the scene for any sight of your scarred, and disturbed prince charming. But by that time he was long gone. Which kind of made you sad, but also relieved. Your mind was hazy, and clouded with a confused lust. Wondering if his words were true— were you going to see him again? Did you even want to? Why weren’t you freaking out right now? What is going on?

The entire walk home, was filled with your mind being so loud it was drowning out all of your senses.

Including the one that could’ve sensed the man following you home.

Don’t worry though, he just wanted to make sure his pet got home safely.

[slowpoke-fics]

The Run | The Good Doctor pt 3

Fandom: The Walking Dead

Pairing: Negan x Reader slow burn

Summary: You had a bit more responsibility than you'd expected, not to say you didn't know what you were doing

Warnings: none really, cussing, ooc Negan, slow burn, it's cute, I miss some and am not perfect, read at your own risk

A/N: This is part three to the Good Doctor Part 3! Thank you for being patient and I hope to have part four up much quicker. I liked this even though it's just some logistical stuff and insight, here is part two!

Maybe he thinks he can fix me, sucks for him, I'm broken beyond repair.

When you woke up, Negan had his hand on your shoulder, you immediately grabbed the gun under your pillow, holding it under his chin. He immediately grabbed the gun and twisted it out of your hands, your eyes now fully open and awake. You didn't realize he was eye level with you, how hot it was for him to control your gun like that, how hot he was staring into your eyes, waiting for your next move. You were frozen, you're not sure he equated it with anything but sleep, but he was captivating.

He laughed, hands up, "Damn, doll, just trying to fuckin' wake you up without fuckin' scaring you, see that was fuckin' pointless," his eyebrows raised as he shook the gun by the barrel at you, "you want it back or not?" You shook your head in disbelief as you took your gun and put it down, shocked that you held a gun to someone for just trying to wake you up. "I-I'm sorry, I guess it was just-" Negan laughed, "No worries, doll, at least I know you can take care of yourself."

You smiled, throwing the blanket off of you and swinging your legs over the couch, “So,” you stood up and began folding the blanket, “what’s the plan?” He watched you fold the blanket, not trying to hide the fact that his eyes roamed your body. Taking in the battered bluejeans that hugged your body, the scratched and slightly torn tank top, your hair shining against the sun, really popping the color out. “We’re going to drive a little longer than I’d hoped but,” he huffed, “the towns supposed to have some more supplies left than we’d originally thought, we should be back by dark.” You shrugged, “Should be fun, are we ready to leave now?”

Negan leaned against the desk, you took all of him in. He was wearing his classic leather jacket over the tattered t-shirt and blue jeans that laid over his steel toe boots. He watched as you put your hair into a pony tail, shirt playing peekaboo with the skin on your torso, “Right after breakfast doll. You ready?” You nodded at him, heading to the door with him following close behind.

Once you had sat down for breakfast Negan started shoveling food down, a full plate compared to your half rations. You didn’t really have much of an appetite, worried about everything that could happen with Negan today. He didn’t seem to notice, and by the time you’d finished your small plate, he was already done eating too. He grabbed your plate so he could return it with his own. You picked up the bags and followed suit, following him out the door and to his truck.

The truck was huge. Had to have been able to fit half of Alexanndria's storage. You’d wondered how much he was planning to come back with. It started to make a little more sense when a small portion of his crew jumped into the back, probably for protection. You climbed into the truck after Negan opened the door for you, closing it once he’d known your feet were out of the way. Then proceeding to climb in his own side.

Negan started the truck, taking you in before he started rolling. Your legs crossed, fingers interlocked at the top of your thighs, thumbs picking at each other, ankle continuously moving. You watched the trucks behind you, following close, at least three others. Did all of them have people in the back? How big was this run?

You were clearly nervous and he hated that, he wanted to make you as comfortable as possible. He tried to ignore it, but after fifteen minutes of non stop thought through his head, he had to say something. "God damn doll," Negan bellowed, "you're gonna roll the damn truck if you don't stop shaking so much," Negan lightly rubbed your forearm, a foreign thing to you, "what're ya so fuckin' nervous about anyway princess?"

You shrugged, a look of uneasiness resting on your face at his nickname for you that didn't go unnoticed, "Just don't know how to act with your group, what're your run rules? Where do I not be in the way? Will I distract you and your men? I'm used to going solo, or with one or two people. There's so-" Negan had to stop your monologue, knowing you've asked these questions twenty times since yesterday. "Don't fuckin' worry about it," Negan smiled, "I made sure this was gonna be fun for you." Your eyebrows curled, needing him to explain.

Negan blushed? No way, you thought and left it alone. "What do you mean?" He shrugged, "You'll see, won't you doll?" You huffed, "Well that just makes me more nervous." Negan let out a hearty laugh, "Damn girl, pull at this old assholes strings huh?" He shook his head, "I'm your personal companion today," he giggled at your slap to his arm. "I don't need a baby sitter!" He raised he hands very quickly to show defense, "No! But, wherever you go, I do. Whatever you fuckin' say, that's law. Everyone else goes at your direction too," he paused, looking at you, "but you don't leave my fuckin' sight," his eyes bore into you, demanding confirmation. "Yeah, okay," you smiled lightly.

"So," Negan's fingers drilled the steering wheel as he hummed at you to continue, "what's in this place?" Negan shifted, "It's a little town, the rest is a surprise." He looked genuinely excited, and you wondered how this apocalypse had changed him as a man. He couldn't have always been this heartless. "Do I get any hints?" Negan hummed again, this time searching for something to give you, "You'll fuckin' like it." You shrugged, "Maybe." He glanced to your bag where you keep your notebook, a gentle reminder of his broken trust. "Oh," you cleared your throat, "hopefully." He beamed at you, "Come on lil' fuckin' firecracker," he pressed the gas a couple more times, gently swerving the car to play with you, "be more fuckin' excited! I'm fuckin' kidding!"

The rest of the way you could believe how different Negan was being. He was intently talking to you about the grid of the town, what his crew already know about, how his crew has already been briefed that you're running it, explained the teams to you and that you're header, leading the team leaders, and he's told you that he's confident you have this ability. You were shocked about him being completely different man that with other people. You were sure that you could be with the man sitting in the truck with you, and you were sure that you couldn't be with the man who murdered someone you considered to be your brother. You were torn between seeing his good and never forgiving him for killing Glenn, how could he do something so vile? You shook your head, drawing attention back to the road and off of your thoughts.

When you arrived, Negan placed his hand on your thigh, just barely touching you. "There is one rule," he smiled, "stay here." Negan was gone for no more than two minutes. He finally came to your door, opening it and revealing his many men standing behind him, "Make sure you're safe." He reached for your hand, dropping you down to the same man who stole from you in your clinic, you glared him hiding behind Negan.

Negan stepped out of the way, the man looking guilty, "Hello, Doctor Y/n," he cleared his throat, "I'm sorry for stealing from an honorable woman." He handed you a gum pack, missing a few pieces, and a small pack of skittles, "I couldn't find gum to replace what I'd stolen, so I hoped that the skittles would excuse my poor manners." You smiled hatefully at him, taking what was in his hand, "Apology accepted..." you waited for him to say his name, but Negan chimed in. "Brady," and he slapped the other man on the shoulder eliciting a smile, "and Simon." You smiled, reaching your hand out to shake Simon's hand, "I've heard." Negan smiled at you, "Good we're all fuckin' aquatinted," he roughly slapped Brady's shoulder, you didn't miss the wince he tried to hide, "these two travel with us period. So, Y/n," a bright smile, "what's the fucking plan?"

With that you noticed the other men had cleared a path for you, letting you view the town. At this point you took in the town, looking at the tiny shops and small streets. Negan wasn't kidding, it's a small town, surely the four trucks you bought could fit everything. You thought for a second, and it hit you, how much work he had put into this. You smiled to yourself, knowing that he wanted to make this go smoothly for you, hence the perfect amount of trucks, a grid, briefed men.

You walked a little behind you, looking at the different streets, looking at Negan, he smiled, giving you some confidence. "You said that you'd already separated these men by trucks? With their usual teams?" You whispered to Negan, "Yes ma'am, they're with their usual team leaders and already armored, just need you to tell them where to go n what to do."

"Okay, so here's my plan-" Negan put his hand up, gesturing to the men when you realized you should be talking to them. You cleared your throat, "Okay, so here's the plan," Negan's body was just barely pressing against you, standing behind you on your left side, his hands in his pockets, watching his men intently listen to you. How hard did he work on this for you?

"If you came in Negan's truck, you're with us on main," you motioned with your hand to have them move to the side, "Truck two-or rather-team two, you're going to our left, Combs Street, when you get to the library, we're looking for education books, if we have time and space after you've gotten everything else essential on the street, comb the library taking the fun books, that's a good part of life now." Negan nodded, liking your plan for education first, noting that the houses on the street might hold value, but acknowledging that we still need distractions like 'fun books' if circumstances allowed.

"Truck three, hit the residential area, on Langley Street," you continued when the men nodded their heads, "Truck four, hit the shops to our right on second street," everyone started moving and you shouted, "wait!" You cleared your throat once again, "Team leaders, I need you and your right hand man, everyone else stay put."

You pulled out the grid as the men surrounded you, "So you've got the left and right sides on your street, split in half, half on Side A, the left, half on side B, the right, this will increase the time we can spend in the houses and avoid stepping on each others feet. Every time you clear a house you call it in, for example, team four A, you would say 'Team Four, A1 clear, moving to A2,' or 'Team Four A Trapped, requesting Four B at A3.' I need you to do this so I can designate resources and men, keep up with the lives and walkers. No need for needless death, check in." Everyone nodded, you smiled, "Anybody have questions, comments or concerns?" The men shook their heads and you turned back towards the crowd, "Alright, everyone knows what you're doing, no-one goes anywhere alone or unarmed. Take everything useful. Do not let your guard down and watch your backs. Dismissed." At that the men dissipated, going on their own assignments.

"Was that okay?" You looked to Negan, the need for approval swimming through your eyes, Negan nodded, "I think it was great, Simon what about you?" Simon chirped up, "Oh yeah, couldn't have done it better myself, I don't make them check in that much but that's okay." You smiled at Simon, wondering how he could not worry about his men that much. You watched as Team One had already started moving toward the first building, them the first check-ins started.

"Team One, heading to A1," a pause, "Team One, heading to B1," another pause, "Team Two, heading to A1." You listened to the team list off their locations, smiling as everyone checked in. "Alright, doll," Negan leaned against the truck, "Where to first?"

[stevesharrlngtons]

wherever i’m going -- i’m taking you with me.

roman godfrey x reader

summary: you run through roman’s dreams nightly, but this time it’s different. this time it’s an omen where you dawn a white dress with blood pouring for your mouth, your body ripped to shred. and this time peter sees it too.

word count: 3.5k

a/n: kinda short for me, i hope that’s ok! got a couple of other stories in the works tho. but, i really hope you enjoy! 

“I gotta run,” You said as you stood from the couch in the Godfrey’s sitting room. 

Roman let out a childish groan as he deflated into the stiff cushions, lanky limbs melting across the furniture like a Dali clock. 

“No, you don’t. At least stay for one more episode?” 

“I promised I’d have dinner with my mom before she has to go in to work graveyard tonight.” You reply, gathering your discarded sweater and shoes and redressing in them. 

“Come on,” Roman practically whines, reaching out with his foot to hook you around the back of your knee, “One more episode.” 

You turn to give him a reprimanding look, a look that was utterly ineffective as a smile threatened to form on your lips. 

“Shelley, can you please call him off?” You look over your shoulder toward the younger Godfrey, holed up in an armchair with a grin. 

“He’s not used to hearing no.” She typed out and you snort. 

“Some help you are!” Shelley just giggled. 

“Yeah,” Roman pushed himself up with a grunt, quickly snaking his arms around your waist, “I’m not used to hearing no. Let’s not start today, yeah?” 

You looked down at him, his chin resting against your abdomen while he gazed up at you with his most convincing puppy eyes. 

You move your hands to hold his cheeks, squeezing them together causing his lips to pout, “Everyone’s right, you are a brat.” 

You lean down and peck his pursed mouth, “Walk me to my car?”

Roman gives a heavy sigh in defeat, collapsing back into the couch for a moment before begrudgingly getting up, making the movement seem like a great effort. 

“You owe me,” He responds in a grumble. 

“Oh, of course,” You reply dramatically as you walk over and give Shelley a chaste kiss to the forehead in goodbye. 

Roman waits for you by the door for you to finish your farewells with his sister, then leads you outside. 

At your car, you toss your bag through the open window into the passenger seat, then lean against the door to look up at Roman. 

“I think you should just move in here, you’re over enough.” He comments, placing his hands on your hips. 

“I’m sure our mother’s would love that,” You counter swiftly. 

“Fuck my mom,” Roman says, “And yours, well she could finally travel like she’s always wanted.” 

“So what? I’m just the dead weight holding her back?” 

“Oh c’mon, you know I didn’t mean it like that.” Roman sighs, moving closer to you. 

You stay quiet, letting him squirm a bit. You knew he meant nothing by his comment, nothing more than a desperate search for you to agree to his offer. 

“I would, but I’d only be giving into your spoiled-rich-boy complex. I can’t do that. I have to be the one to teach you hard work and perseverance. I want you to turn out to be a well rounded young man.” 

The scowl that overtook Roman’s face made you burst into giggles. 

“Fuck that, and you for saying it.” 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” You say, giggles dying down as you lean up to give him a kiss. A longer one to appease him, “I’ll call you later, OK?” 

“OK,” Roman says breathlessly to your lips, “Love you.” 

“Love you, too.” And you pulled away from him. 

Parting from Roman was always a five minute process, or longer. Because he would kiss you deeper, and beg for one more, and whisper sweet words and begs for you to stay, trying your resolve each and every time. Tonight was no different. You finally left the Godfrey grounds seven minutes later with swollen lips and the beginning of a love bite on your neck. 

You ran through a field of grass and wildflowers. Looking over your shoulder with a wide smile and echoing giggles. 

“Catch me! Faster! Before I fall! Catch me, Roman!” Your voice carried far and wide. 

The dress you adorned was white, gauzy, and thin. Roman could see the hazy outline of your body beneath the fabric, your soft curves shining through as the sun basked you in it’s buttery glow. The world was saturated in warm tones and smelled like fresh laundry on his skin.

“Please, Ro! Catch me! I’m going to trip!” Your melodic voice begged, as you remained just out of arm's length.

Roman ran as fast as he could, panting and heaving as he tried to keep up with your light feet. His fingers would dust the fabric of your dress, feel the fibers and loose threads on his nails, but he could never get close enough to wrap you his grasp and capture you. He tumbled through the tall grass and felt a distinct tightness in his chest of yearning and fear. He just wanted to reach you. 

As he continued the chase, Roman’s legs began to feel utterly heavy and stiff. A smattering of pins and needles danced under his skin and began to numb his extremities. It felt like he was pushing through water and running through sand. When he looked down to his feet, suddenly he was. He was encased in thick slimy sand and he could barely move. 

“Roman?” Your voice was far away and trembling. 

Roman snapped his head back up to look at you, still in your field of wildflowers and fragile gown. 

“Roman, please, it’s going to happen…” You were suddenly crying, your face streaked with tears that left unforgiving wet trails over your delicate skin. 

“I won’t! I won’t!” Roman calls, trying to dig himself from the swallowing sand. 

“Baby… it hurts,” You whimper and groan and Roman watches as you reach down to clutch your stomach. Your crisp white dress now swathed with red. 

A long, jagged cut marred your abdomen, blood pouring out of you like rushing water. 

“No!” Roman screams, chanting the word until his throat was thick and hoarse.

You hiccup, and heavy currents of dark crimson drip past your lips. Your sputtering as the blood splatters your once spotless face, freckling your draining cheeks as a new outpour of blood furthers to ruin your dress. 

Roman claws at the sand sucking him under, the little particles cutting into his fingers like shards of glass as he continues his tireless efforts to escape. 

He watches as you stare at the blood in question, trying to push it back into your jutting abdomen wound fruitlessly, only managing to push more out. 

“Stay right there, I’m coming! I’m coming!” Roman shouts, but the sand has sucked him down despite his best efforts and is up to his chin. The sun was so bright now, it was beginning to blinding him. 

“No, you’re not.” You say with blood painted lips, teeth slimy with cardinal colors and sickly browns. 

Roman tries to shout again, only for the sand to begin to enter his mouth and fill his lungs, before it engulfs him completely. 

Roman shot awake, slick with sweat and an intense weighing heat covering every inch of his body. 

His eyes stung with unshed tears as he scrambled to reach his phone on his nightstand. It told him it was just after two in the morning before he dials your number. 

With his trembling hand to his ear, he listens to the incessant ring and waits for you to answer. 

But the phone just rings, and rings and rings. And Roman swallows down the bile that raises in his throat as he gets your voicemail. 

He calls back immediately, listening to the endless tone with shallow breaths. Once more, he gets your voicemail. 

“Fuck!” Roman shouts, his voice carrying in the silent bedroom. 

He starts to kick away his blankets and press your contact once more, when his phone buzzes. He doesn’t hesitate to answer. 

“Hello? Baby?” Roman gasps. 

“No, it’s uh, it’s me.” The voice on the other end isn’t yours, but Peter’s. 

“Peter, dear fucking -- did you have it? Did you see her?” Roman asks, his voice frenzied. 

“Yeah, I… I needed to call and see if she was with you. But I guess not.” 

And Roman starts to hyperventilate. He tries to gulp in as much air as he can, but his lungs are tight and constricted with tears and terror. 

“Peter, she’s next. No, no, no, no, no! Fuck! This isn’t happening, this can’t be happening!” Sobs wracked his body as Peter did his best to calm him. 

“Hey, hey! Calm down, alright? She’s probably just fine.” 

Probably, probably, probably. 

But not definitely. 

Roman’s mind began to churn out pictures of your pretty little face on the news next to Brooke Bluebell and Lisa Willoughby. A newscaster reciting your name mournfully and telling the world that you were the latest victim of this horrific animal prowling after young girls in a sleepy Pennsylvania town. 

“She’s not answering, Peter! She’s not fucking answering her phone. She’s not -- fuck!” Roman could barely get the words out. 

Your face in print, the ink smudging and transferring to the pads of Roman’s fingers from the amount of times he strokes your still features. Perfect and frozen in time. The headline saying something about another teen dead. Another beautiful girl with so much potential… torn from the world and limb from limb.

“Calm down, Roman! We need to find her, OK? I’m sure she’s just asleep and didn’t hear her phone. Let’s find her before we have a fuckin’ melt down, yeah?” 

“Yeah, yeah, Ok, yeah.” Roman nods, running a tense hand through his hair. 

“So, why don’t you sit tight and I’ll go over to her house and bring her to you?” 

“No!” Roman shouts, “No! I’m going, she needs me.” 

Roman stands from his bed and rushes around his room to gather any discarded clothing he could find crumpled on the ground or splayed over the back of a chair. 

“Roman, let’s just think about this for a minute. You’re worried, stressed out of your mind, you’re not thinking straight. You’re gonna fuckin’ crash your car if you drive like this.” Peter tries to reason. 

Roman scoffs, “I’m fine.” 

“No, you’re really not,” Peter lets out a humorless chuckle. 

“Yeah, y’know what? You’re right, I’m fucking not,” Roman spits. 

He’s running down the stairs in a mismatched outfit in a search for his car keys, “I’ll be fine when I see she’s OK.” 

Roman hangs up his phone before Peter can argue anymore.

When Roman gets to your house, he doesn't waste time knocking. He just picks up the trick rock in the front flowerpot to retrieve the spar key from inside it, and storms into your house. He barely remembers to shut the door behind him. 

“(Y/N)! Baby!” Roman calls, searching around for any signs of disturbance or foul play. 

He bounds up your staircase, frantically calling for you all the while. When he reaches your bedroom, he plows his way through the door without ceremony. His grip warping the thin gold plated knob, fingers molding into the cheap tin with worried fury.

You shot up from your mattress when Roman burst in with a shriek, clutching your chest as Roman stood dumbfounded in your doorway. 

“Jesus Christ, Roman! What the hell? You just about gave me a heart attack! Fuck,” You let out a loud breath and fell against your pillows, sucking in calming breaths, “What is wrong with you?” 

Overwhelming relief rushed through Roman’s viens as he watched you, annoyed and disgruntled in a sea of sheets and blankets from his entrance.

“Oh my God,” Tears sprang back to his eyes as Roman quickly closed the short distance between himself and your bed and vined his arms around you. 

He blanketed you in his body, crushing you to the mattress as he sobbed into your neck. 

“Whoa, hey, Ro? Baby? What happened? What’s going on?” You asked, anger turning quickly to worry as you moved to wrap your arms around his shaking shoulders. 

His forearms press into the base of your neck and the hollow of your back uncomfortably, arching you into him in an awkward position. But the pain only served as a reminder to Roman that you were real. You’re here and you’re breathing and your bones clash with his and your breath fogs his brain. He couldn’t speak, all he could do was inhale your clean scent and the pattern of your heartbeat. 

“Roman, you’re scaring me. What the hell is going on?” You tried again. 

“Just stay right here. Be safe,” He hushed, nuzzling closer to you, pressing his cold nose to your clavicle. 

A distinct prick of worry and fear made itself known in your gut, but you tried your best to subdue it.

For now.

“Alright, but please just tell me you’re OK?” You whisper, gripping the back of his shoulders tightly. 

“Yeah. And so are you.” 

You woke the next morning with a stabbing pain in your side and with stiff limbs. The sun had peeked over Roman’s head and cast onto your tired lids. Your hands were still tangled in his hair, resting loosely on the nape of his neck, having stopped combing through brunet strands sometime around dawn when sleep finally took you back under. 

You tried to shift your weight around to alleviate the discomfort, but a small voice stopped you. 

“Don’t get up,” Came Roman’s throaty plea. 

“I wasn’t, just getting comfortable. M’back hurts.” 

Roman doesn’t reply, just moves his arm from where it had been digging into your muscles and moves onto his side so you can too. His other arm stays firmly coiled around your shoulders. 

You sigh in relaxed pleasure as you stretch out the kink in your back and are able to snuggle back into Roman with no pain. 

“Thank you,” You mutter and kiss the hollow of his throat before you begin to drift off again. 

His warmth, his soft pine cologne, the weight of his arms around you, the safety he offered, it was hard to stay awake all while under the thick cloud of blankets and early morning heat. Roman began to drag his fingers gently up and down your spine, helping to lull you back into sleep. That was until you remembered that Roman hadn’t just snuck in the night before to sleep next to you. You two hadn’t fucked and smoked and passed out in each other’s arms. He had come storming into your bedroom last night with crazed glazed eyes, looking like he’d seen a ghost, or something worse. So, you blink away any residual urge for slumber. 

“What happened last night?” You asked, running your nose along his thrumming pulse. 

“Don’t worry ‘bout it,” Roman moves his palm up to cup the back of your skull, “We’ll talk about it when you wake up.” 

You wiggle away from his embrace far enough to see his face. He looked pensive and worried. His sweet lips chapped and gnawed raw. 

“I don’t want to wait, Ro. You really freaked me out last night.” You lean further back, “Was it Olivia? Did she do something?” 

“No, no,” Roman sighs, “Not this time. It wasn’t her.” 

“Then what was it?”

Roman ran the tip of his tongue over his cracked lips and sniffs loudly. He makes a scene to look anywhere but your eyes. He looked scared, and Roman never looked scared. Angry? Interested? Annoyed? Curious? Yes, but never scared. 

“Ro? What is it? You're freaking me.” You reach for his hand that is resting on your hip and wrap it in your own.

His jaw flexes and swivels, his bottom teeth jutting out before he finally sighs, “You were in my dream last night…” 

“And?” 

“Peter had the dream, too.” 

It felt like the wind had been knocked from your lungs. You knew Roman could feel your hand tighten around his own, because he pushed your face back to press into his chest. 

“But it’s OK. It’s going to be alright. I have you, I have you, I have you,” He chants, slipping his long calf around your legs to further his point. 

“Peter saw me, too?” You asked, voice quivering with uncertainty. 

“Yeah, baby. He did.” 

“And it was the same dream?” 

Roman took a long pause that told you more than his words ever could. 

“Did you see it, too? Did it get me?” 

You can feel Roman shutter against you. Like someone had poured ice water down his back. 

“No, we didn’t. It wasn’t there. It was just… it wasn’t pretty, I’ll spare you the details but it wasn’t fucking pretty. It freaked us out.” 

“Oh God,” You muttered, your mind moving a mile a minute, “Oh my God. I’m next.” 

“No.” Roman says, an animalistic roar from deep in his chest, his arms working to pull you even closer, “No. Nothing is going to happen to you. I won’t let it.” 

“What if something happens that you can’t stop? Or you’re not there? Or I’m alone? Or, or, fuck! I don’t know!” You gasp, your heart palpating in your chest. 

You had never been faced with your own mortality before. You had never had a near death experience or even anything close to one. You sometimes felt embarrassed when your peers would talk about terrifying advantentures they had embarked on that almost ended fatally but they triphumpanlty survived. Or activities they foolishly starred in and swore they saw their lives flash before their eyes. The stories were likely embellished, but you still felt square. You weren’t an adrenaline junkie, you didn’t even like carnival rides. You liked knowing you’d wake the next day, safe and sound with two feet planted firmly on the ground. This feeling of possible and even probable death by crazed werewolf made your vision blur and bile coat your tongue.

There wasn’t enough air in the world to satisfy your thirsty lungs.

“Hey, hey, stop!” Roman said sternly, his voice working to break through your wave of panic, “Nothing is going to happen, OK? Nothing. I will do whatever possible to keep you safe. I don’t care what it takes.” 

“Ro --” Tears had begun to fall from your eyes without your knowledge, and his name came from your lips weak and whimpered. 

“I have you, I’ve got you. I am going to be with you 24-fucking-7 until we kill this thing. I am not going to leave your side until I have a fucking Vargulf head in the trophy room.” He reassures. 

“How can you be with me when you are going off to kill it?”

“Then I’m gonna lock you in Shelley’s room and make you stay put until I’m back. We aren’t taking any chances with this.”  

You pull back once more to look at him with glazed eyes; his face pink from sleep and tears. 

“You’ll stay at the house until we kill this thing, alright? I don’t care what Olivia or anyone else says, you’ll stay with me.” 

“What if it comes here anyway? What if it hurts my mom? Oh my God, Roman, my mom!” Your blubbering again. 

“Fuck it, she can come, too. We’ll make something up, have Peter forge some documents from the city that say you guys have to get out of this house, then I’ll offer up guest bedrooms. We’ll figure it out.” He replies, smoothing your hair against your head. 

“Do you really think it’ll work?” 

Roman sighs, “I mean if it doesn’t I could, y’know, persuade her.”

“Roman, no.”

You knew Roman would never do anything to hurt your beloved mother, but the thought of him using his eye-thing on her made your stomach twist. 

“I would and I will if I have to. I’ll do what I have to to keep you safe. That’s just how it is.” 

He was your protector. Your warrior. Fuck Peter, fuck his mother and Destiny. Fuck anyone who told him this wasn’t his fight, that he should bow out and let the Rumanecks handle this. Because now it definitely was. Now, he was to be the one who saved the town and you and Peter and Letha and Shelley. He was to be the one who cut off the head of this wolf or ripped it apart with his bare hands to keep his loved ones safe. He was strong, he was the warrior. 

“OK.” You surrendered to his declarations of safety and tried to let his presence lull you. 

You’d have to pack some things in a few hours, help come up with a lie to convince your mother, then move into the Godfrey mansion and hope it’s walls were enough to shuck this black omen from your soul. 

“I got you, I promise I do.” Roman hushes, placing a delicate kiss to your forehead. 

Your burrow deeper into his embrace and refuse to tell him about the dream you’d had the night before. The dream about spitting your teeth into his hands and running your tongue over your coppery gums. You needed to call Destiny or Peter’s mom to get the prognosis on if it meant anything. If it was just unsettling or apart of whatever Roman and Peter were seeing at night. For now, all you could hope was that it was the former, and Roman’s energy was enough to heal your fearful heart.

hi (-: i hope you enjoyed! if you did, i’d love to hear from you <3 

[poptod]

The Ivory Haunting (Ahkmenrah x Reader)

Description: His face is engrained into your head but his name is nowhere. Where does he exist? Why are you so obsessed?

Notes: this is strangely creepy and i dont know why. its not what i meant to do but i think its cool anyway. gender neutral as fuckin always WC: 3.1k

+

There's this carving – more of a bust or sculpture – that has your mind twisted every which way. It's a stupid thing, really, but you can't get his expression out of your head, and thus it haunts your waking and sleeping hours. The style is Egyptian, you think. He's wearing a crown on his head, one that you've seen in a couple museums before, and he has an absent smile on his face. While you scroll through the endless amount of photos of ancient Egyptian statues online, you note that it's an all too common expression.

At this point you can't even recall where you first saw it. Could've been through the endless internet surfing or the many museums you visited in your travels, but at the end of the day you're stumped. What was his name? Where did you meet him?

It's clear as day. His alabaster skin. He looks straight at you with empty eyes, the irises having eroded many years ago in the hot sahara sun. His nose has long fallen off, leaving behind a jagged scar that drags from his brow down to his lips, where that haunting smile sits so easily. They're full, his lips – sweet, and soft, even for stone. At each end are little dips, showcasing the slight smile. His chin is a little big, but it makes way for the sharp contrast of his jawline. He has cheekbones – mostly hidden behind the crown – and his ears are a little large. The trait that draws your attention each time is his eyes. Blank. Like they had truly been staring at the world for thousands of years.

You don't get out much anymore, not since the restrictions were put in place. There are moments, especially in the dead of night, in which you want so desperately to leave your tiny apartment, but the curfew states otherwise. Policemen and government workers roam the streets and you'd rather not get into a tussle over something so small as an urge.

Still, you stare outside your window, wondering why it feels like you're suffocating. This is how you spend a lot of your time nowadays, staring at the streets. There's hardly any cars out, and the sidewalks are barren, a sight you'd seen only once before during the original quarantine. London is not a quiet city. It's quite the opposite, and to see it muted is in the least upsetting.

Your job is... easy. Considering the state of the world, you're incredibly lucky, retaining your job and keeping away from the outside. You also get a lot of free time. Usually you'd spend it in front of a television, or in a good book, but now it's in front of your computer screen. The typing marker flashes in front of you, placing behind it the clear words you've searched at least a hundred times by now.

ANCIENT EGYPTIAN BUSTS

By now you know what the first images are going to be. Nefertiti, mostly – her bust is by far the most famous. Then there's of course Akhenaten with his elongated skull, followed by several advertisements for Kemetic worship.

You don't know much about Egyptian history. Or, at least you didn't use to. Now you recognize the faces, though rarely do you ever remember the names of the many forgotten dead. You're just looking for one – one name, one bust, one dead man.

He's nowhere, not in the books you buy or the articles you read. When you sign up for an online course of ancient Egyptian history, you expect to see his face in a textbook, but he's not there. Sometimes it feels like you're the only one who remembers him, which is funny – you don't even know him. Either way it's a way to occupy the time, since you have so much of it lately.

The British Museum is reopening. There's a whole thing about COVID, of course, and the only way to enter is to get tickets online. Only a handful of people are allowed inside the museum at once, and since you don't hear about it until later, you are set to wait a month and a half before you can visit. Bitterness wells up in the pit of your stomach, but like most things you set it aside. None of it really matters anyway – yes, not knowing his name feels like drowning mid-air, but it won't kill you.

From the moment you reserve a ticket to the moment you can actually use it, you dream of him every night. Sometimes it's actually him, no longer a statue, taking your hands and leading you somewhere you don't belong. His skin is warm, unlike his statue, but just as soft as you imagined. His nails are meticulously cleaned and his eyes are bright, full of a life you're desperate to understand. It doesn't make any sense. You're yearning so deeply for him, for something you've never known before, and every second away feels like pure horror in your veins.

Why do you need him this much?

You look at yourself in the mirror, fixing a strand of hair that falls in front of your eyes. You're dressed well – at least comparatively to your former few weeks of dress – and a quiet excitement thrums in your heart. Today is a day you're going to go out, and to make it better you're going to the museum. They have an Egyptian exhibit. A foolish part of yourself hopes you'll find him there, nestled in the corner of a long and fruitful hallway filled with Egyptian statues.

It's... disappointing, to say the least, to find out there's only one room for Egyptian exhibits and it's occupied by only one thing, besides broken pots and stone dolls. The main exhibit's name is Ahkmenrah, a young Pharaoh older than the Great Pyramids of Giza. All information on him can be fitted onto a four by six stone plate. While standing in his room, surrounded by hieroglyphs you've been studying hard to understand, you look him up on your phone. There's little mention of him, but the one article you do find on him has a 3D recreation of his face. He looks white and you know the article's bullshit.

While absently holding a conversation with one of the curators, you discover there's a store of Egyptian exhibits kept underneath the museum that aren't fit for showcase since the downsizing. Whatever that means, you find a sliver of hope, one that pales quickly at the realization you'll never be able to go down there. They wouldn't let some random visitor (who wasn't even an actual historian) to go see closed off exhibits.

Fischer, the director of the museum, hires you four months after you send your resume in. The second he does you set your plan into motion – there's no time to waste.

The same day he gives you the keys, you're sneaking in under the cover of night. For some reason, the lights are still on in the main museum, but fortunately that's not where you're headed. You unlock the backdoor, sneaking through the night guard's break room until you find the door to the basement. Flipping through the keys on your ring, you quickly find the right one, shoving it into the keyhole and almost wrenching the door open.

You run down the stairs. It's almost sprinting, but you can't be too loud with your shoes. There's nothing in your mind except him, his funny little smile, the somehow soft alabaster of his skin. You need to get to him. Something inside you says he's here – he's here, he's here, and there's nowhere else you can be without your whole body combusting.

You stop dead in your sprint, chest heaving as you're faced with the open boxes filled with Egyptian busts. With frantic eyes you look them over, searching desperately for one familiar face, finding none until the very last open box.

It's here.

He's here.

The broken nose, the formation of the resulting scar, you recognize every. Fucking. Inch.

Each box contains little notes on who the statues are (if known), the material, the time period, and other such relevant information. Your hands shake as you reach forward, slipping the piece of paper out of the paper stuffing.

King Ahkmenrah

Date: ca. 3,100 - 3000 B.C.

Period: Old Kingdom

Place of origin: Egypt, Cairo

Medium: Ivory

Ahkmenrah.

Sudden clarity strikes you as it never has when you recall searching his name online. He's the exhibit. He's the mummy upstairs. He's actually here.

The blood in you freezes for a moment, caught up in shock and relief. Now you know his name. A small part of you is finally able to rest with the answer, but the rest of you knows exactly what to do – go upstairs. Find the exhibit. Lay at his side. After all this time you still don't know why, but the ache of neediness in your heart is enough to leave you weak to your inner desires.

Now that your head is clear, or at least unhindered by your questions, you note a worrying amount of sound coming from upstairs. Footsteps pound on the ceiling as you climb the staircase, leaving you curious and terrified. That many people shouldn't be in one place – it's a death wish for the modern plague. You grit your teeth, fingers curling up in to fists that dig your nails deep into your palm. Is it safe to go upstairs? There's definitely people up there and you have no idea who they are. The museum could be being robbed right now and you wouldn't have a clue. It's a death wish.

Why are you still going up the stairs?

Why are you opening the door?

This shouldn't be happening. There's enough people to fill the whole first floor, ranging from the public entrance of the museum to the African exhibits in the back. Almost all of them are wearing historical outfits, in such a wide array you might've thought they'd stolen them from the exhibits, had they not looked exactly like the wax figures. The marble statue of the Roman on his horse is no longer on its' pedestal. Actually, he's talking to a woman a few feet away from you, though he is still on the horse.

You should be passed out on the stairs going by how fast your heart is beating, but instead you stand in the doorway petrified. Your eyes sit wide, scanning back and forth over the crowd, searching for something you don't know of. With all the stimulus in front of you, you don't even know what to think. The exhibits must be coming alive. Does someone watch over them?

It's then, with little clarity in your head, that your eyes land upon the night guard. She doesn't look in the least bit rattled, so you easily assume she's used to this. Her calm is so alarming to you that you blink yourself back into your body.

These are... people. Just people. They haven't been put under some curse that'll bring chaos to the world. All they're doing is partying, and though the noise level is a tad unpleasant, it's just about as rowdy as some teenagers.

When you realize you aren't in danger, you bolt from your place at the door. Twisting through the gathered crowd, you slowly make your way to the staircase, ascending with quick feet as your eyes lock onto the Egyptian hall. It's a few more feet until you turn sharp, shoes squeaking as you slide into the room. The familiar gold lighting greets you, shining off the open sarcophagus, which you skid to a halt in front of as your lungs desperately try to catch up to your legs.

Of course it's empty. Your Pharaoh – or Ahkmenrah, you suppose you should use his name now that you know it – must be downstairs, where the life of the party is. Why would he stay up in this empty room, all alone? From here you can barely even hear the music that was once pounding into your ears. Still, for a moment you stare at the bottom of the vacant coffin, caught in the awe of such a long-standing history.

"What are you doing here?"

The words catch you by surprise, and in reaction you whip around, eyes wide as the voice continues, "who are you?"

My King. Before you can even process the thought, the words roll onto your tongue, but to your immense relief you catch yourself before actually opening your mouth.

"I..." it barely comes out with how little you've physically spoken recently, "I work here."

As usual, your voice carries that quiet, calm, slightly annoyed tone that makes people wonder why you're being so difficult. It's not really something you can control, but the King doesn't seem to notice. Maybe it's worked to your advantage this time; despite your racing heart and frozen feet, you keep an even tone.

"I don't think I've seen you here before," the King says, his eyes narrowing as he steps closer. You try to back up, but you're already pressed against the sarcophagus, and his glare keeps you from running.

"I just started today," you answer honestly.

"Ah," he says, his voice softer the moment he begins to believe you. "This must be rather alarming for you, then."

You're not afraid to admit he's right.

"A tad. How do you speak english?"

"I learned it during my time at Cambridge University," he answers. He's from over 4,000 years ago, so you know he didn't attend as a student.

"You were on display there?"

"Yes," he says with a bright smile, one that catches you entirely off guard.

It practically blows you away – his demeanor changed so quickly, from a stern Pharaoh to a sweet, young man who probably bought his girlfriend flowers every Monday. For a moment you wonder why you were so caught up in him before knowing him; now that you've heard his voice, seen the way he moves, your interest increases tenfold. It's not enough to see him. You need to touch him. You need it more than anything.

"I've been looking for you," you blurt out, but the words come out so slow it sounds like you consciously chose them. You bite the inside of your cheek as you watch his smile falter.

"What do you mean?" He asks. He's standing in front of you now – if you extended your arm and took a small step closer, you'd be touching him.

"There's a sculpture of you," you say softly, swallowing the lump in your throat, "but I didn't know how to find your name."

"How'd you find me, then?" He asks, but he looks less offended. Now there's a keen look in his smile and in his eye, like he's going to enjoy this, like he knows something you don't.

"Sheer luck," you say with a shrug. It's mostly true.

"I think I know you," he says, and his smile quirks further upward.

"What?" You say, trying to back up again as he steps closer. The sarcophagus is, unsurprisingly, still behind you. "How?"

"Back when I was a King, I had a slave my brother killed," he says in the least comforting tone, "but my father had this idea."

Another step closer. You can feel the heat of his naked waist on your shaking hands.

"See, he had a magician in his employ, and he would do anything for me. Especially since I loved that slave so dearly. Truly," he leans forward a little, placing his hand on the gold case behind you and trapping you against him. His chest is practically right against yours, but what you are close enough to feel is his breath, soft on your collarbones. "And so my father retrieved the soul with a special spell and sent it into the future, to possess another at birth, and to lie in wait until I called for it."

You can't feel your – well, anything. There's a pressure on your chest, but you can't tell if that's your wildly beating heart or just his warmth skewing your senses. All you can do is stare up at him wide-eyed. He can't be telling the truth. Magic doesn't work like that, it can't work like that, that's a sick story and he's telling it like it's nothing more than normal. Possessing a newborn child. Sending souls into the future. It can't make sense. You almost feel bad for your past self – under the employ of someone so cruel as to take a soul from the afterlife for his own pleasure.

But he's standing before you. He's 4,000 years old, and he's standing in front of you, pushing you against his own coffin and trapping you there. Do you belong to him, then? Is that why you can't get him out of your head?

"When did your search begin?" He asks softly, a gentle curiosity evident in his brow.

"A – about a year ago," you say, your voice so broken and shaky you're surprised he understands it.

"Last winter?" He asks knowingly, almost sweet, like he's doting on you. Then comes the part that really makes it shine; he reaches up and pets your hair, moving in long, soft strokes.

You nod, unwilling to meet his gaze any longer. How red you must be by now.

"I called on you then. It took you a little while, but I'm glad you made it," he says, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. "Unfortunately, I suppose you haven't retained any memories, since you didn't know my name."

"I guess not," you agree quietly. "I just have instincts."

"Instincts?"

You're reluctant to share with him the many instincts you'd had even in the short time from meeting him to now. The pure need to touch him. Past You probably had a crush on him, and even though you aren't really that person anymore, there's a need inside you to hide that fact from him. 

"I wanted to call you my King when I first saw you," you admit, your voice still quiet in hopes of him not understanding you.

"You won't have to call me that anymore. Maybe a tad around my parents, but when we're alone you may use my name."

"When we're... alone?" You question nervously, heart pounding at the thought of spending more time with him.

"You do work here, don't you?" He says with a sly grin. "I think I'll be seeing you quite a lot."

Oh.

Oh no.

Oh God.

If this is how you react just from spending five minutes with him, you can't imagine spending whole nights at his side. You'd explode. From what you don't know yet, but the pulsing rush in your heart is strong enough to worry you, and very rarely do you ever worry about yourself. The words in your head – your immediate reaction – simply won't pass. You can't bring yourself to say them, so you say what he wants to hear.

"As long as you want to."

[kindahoping4forever]

Dress // Ashton Irwin

Part of the fun of using prompt lists is finding ways to incorporate everything when someone requests multiple prompts in one piece. I had the skeleton for this story fairly quick and as always, @cal-puddies​ was a problem solving queen and helped me fine tune it into something that made sense. I wrote this maybe a month ago and got caught up tinkering with it and am so glad to finally get it out into the world!

Prompts: “I know for a fact that you can be a hell of a lot louder than that.“ and “I’m gonna fuck you so hard that you forget you ever even met that asshole.” and “Wow, I didn’t realize you were that… Flexible.”

Warnings: Supportive/protective/flirty friend!Ash, the slightest drop of angst, brief mention of unnamed character cheating, ridiculous amounts of sexual tension, spontaneous (but protected!) backstage sex

Word Count: 3k (on the nose. The 🤡 nose of course)

Masterlist

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————-

“I can kill him if you want,” Ashton offers.

You consider your friend’s offer. “I mean… I won’t stop you but I also won’t dye my hair and go on the run with you, I just got it to the shade I’ve been wanting.”

“Fake friend,” he scoffs.

Like most nights when you were visiting on tour, you and Ashton sat behind the venue, people watching and talking shit. Tonight’s conversation had a very specific subject: your cheating ex, a record label rep, who you just found out would be attending tonight’s show to scout one of the opening acts.

“I just hate the thought of you having to see that asshole again,” he seethes. “And I hate that I’m the one putting you in that position, as if I haven’t already done enough.”

You met “that asshole” (as Ashton exclusively refers to him) when you visited a 5SOS promo tour he was running so Ash has always felt somewhat responsible for your heartbreak, despite your insistence that he shouldn’t. It was a decent relationship; it never got too serious but you had fun and occasionally felt understood. But towards the end, he was always travelling and long distance made things difficult. Things became even more difficult when you realized he’d been cheating on you basically the entire time. You were hurt but your confidence was broken more than your heart.

You admit you’re nervous about potentially running into your ex but Ash is downright furious so you let him rant. You don’t realize that you’ve gotten lost inside your own head until Ash is snapping his fingers in front of your face. “Obviously I do love listening to myself talk but what I’m saying is for your benefit,” he snarks.

You shake your head. “Sorry. I think you can understand, I’ve got a lot on my mind right now.”

“That’s what I’m saying, I can’t stand seeing you like this.” He pauses and then enthusiastically squeezes your knee. “Here’s what you do: go back to the hotel while we’re at soundcheck, put on something sexy - Oh! That black dress you wore when we all went out in Austin? Do your hair, go all out and he’ll feel like a fuckin idiot if he even catches a glimpse of you.”

“Really?” You ask, skeptically.

“Trust me,” he insists, pulling you out of your seat. “It’ll make you feel good even if you don't see him.”

He’s right and you do feel better trading out your unofficial tour uniform of a messy bun, band merch and jeans for some soft curls, your favorite black slip dress and a pair of tall boots. You never thought of this dress as particularly sexy until Ash mentioned it but as you assess your reflection, you have to agree that it does flatter your body nicely. You throw on the leather jacket that Ash gave you for your birthday and head back to the arena feeling ready to take on the world, or at least your ex-boyfriend.

The guys all hoot and holler at you when they come back to the dressing room after soundcheck. (Ashton, of course, takes credit for your transformation even though all he did was suggest it.) You gratefully accept their sincere compliments, laugh at their hyperbolic ones and by the time they have to leave for their meet and greet, your face hurts from grinning ear to ear and you’ve essentially forgotten you were ever nervous in the first place.

But as they file in afterwards, Ash immediately notices your mood has changed drastically. You’re curled up under a blanket in an easy chair, mindlessly staring at your phone, your hair has been thrown back into a bun and as he tries to get a closer look without being too obvious, he can see your eye makeup is a bit smudged as if you’d teared up, if not full on cried.

He knows you well enough to know that if he hounds you, you’ll shut down and he’ll never find out what’s wrong so he just keeps an eye on you. But you know him well enough to know when he’s going to great lengths to ensure he’s paying you extra attention but not too much. He sits on the arm of your chair even though there’s plenty of actual seats available, he goes out of his way to include you in even the tiniest of conversations and when dinner arrives, he brings you a plate of food without being asked. You’re sure you’ll appreciate it in hindsight but right now you just want to be left alone.

You offer to keep Calum company when he goes out for a cigarette and as you’d hoped, besides a casual “You good?” and a side hug, he lets you stew in peace. When he starts to head back in, you tell him to go ahead, that you need another minute to yourself.

He pauses. “Ash isn’t gonna like that,” he chuckles. “But I’ll head him off best I can.”

Cal’s prediction is correct and you’re not alone for three minutes before Ashton comes barreling outside in search of you; you roll your eyes at the sight of him, fresh out of his ice bath, wet hair hanging in his face, white t-shirt and black shorts clinging to his damp body. You almost catch yourself admiring the spectacle before he starts making his way towards you and you remember how annoyed you are.

“Hey!” He brightly greets you.

“Jesus Christ, Ash,” you snap. “You’re gonna catch cold out here like that and then you’re gonna have to cancel shows and I’m gonna feel like it’s my fucking fault just because you can’t leave me alone for five goddamn minutes.”

His eyes briefly widen at your outburst but he quickly regains his composure and takes your hand. “Come with me,” he says quietly.

He leads you to the band’s warm up room and you throw yourself on the couch with a huff. He snorts and lifts your lower half up, sits close to you and rests your legs in his lap. He taps your thigh, “I’ll leave you alone if you tell me what’s going on.”

You sigh in response.

He tries again, “Don’t tell me you’re still nervous about that asshole because I told you ---”

“I saw him,” you interrupt.

“What? When?”

“While you were at meet and greet. I went out to the bus to get my charger and we passed each other on my way back,” you explain.

Ashton clenches his jaw. “What’d he say to you? I’ll go find him right now, I don’t fucking care.”

“He didn’t say anything,” you say plainly.

“What do you mean?” He asks, confused.

“I mean he looked right at me and didn’t say a word,” you explain. “Like I was nobody, not even worth ‘hello.’ Like I never meant anything to him.”

He comfortingly rubs your legs in his lap and watches you process what you’re feeling.

“I’m not sad, I don’t think. Because fuck that guy, for real,” you contemplate. “I think... I just feel like an idiot for letting him get to me and for caring at all he was going to be here and I really feel like an idiot for going to the trouble of putting on this ridiculous dress ---”

“The dress was an excellent idea, you look amazing,” he insists.

You purse your lips. “I look embarrassing, I hate this fucking thing,” you tug at the material in disgust.

Ashton lightly slaps your thigh in protest. “You love that dress. I love that dress.” Noting your look of disbelief, he smirks and continues. “Listen, it’s a good dress. I’ve had dreams about you in that dress. Like... dreams,” he emphasizes, suggestively wiggling his eyebrows.

You feel your face getting much warmer much faster than you would’ve expected. You study his expression to try and figure out how serious he is. “Liar,” you determine with a laugh.

“Oh you want details? OK, you first wore it to that label party and I dreamt we were at my place, talking on the couch kind of like this,” he gestures. “And I ran my hand up your legs and played with you under your dress until you begged me to fuck you.”

As you take in his confession, your eyes flicker across his broad frame, all of your fantasies he'd unknowingly starred in running through your mind. You had no doubt you were attracted to each other but you’d always enjoyed the kind of friendship where you both felt comfortable enough to flirt openly without expectation. But this feels like new and dangerous territory. You’re pretty sure you don’t mind it.

“You seemed to remember me wearing it in Austin?” You press the subject, your voice surprising you with how breathy it sounds.

He chews his lip before meeting your eyes. “Dreamt you rode me in a dark corner of that club we were at,” he answers in a low voice. His hand is still absentmindedly stroking your leg, though you are acutely aware it seems to have climbed a couple inches higher since this conversation began.

You’re shocked when you hear your own voice saying, “And when you wake up from these dreams…”

“Hard as a rock,” he offers without hesitation.

His answer hangs in the air as you sit up, resting your arm on the back of the couch behind his head. You’re as close to sitting in his lap as you could be without actually doing it. You’re not sure where the audaciousness comes from but you look him straight in the eyes and ask, “How many times do you think you’ve cum because of me?”

Ashton stares at you a beat longer than you would’ve liked but you never fear that you’ve gone too far. He only breaks eye contact to briefly glance at your tongue darting out to lick your lips; he leans in slightly but has clearly decided to let you lead how far this goes. Finally, you hear his gravelly voice respond, “Far too numerous to count.”

You nod briefly and then you find yourself closing the gap between you. You kiss him with more confidence than you’ve felt all day and your assurance grows as he deepens it with a groan. You tangle a hand in his hair and smile against his mouth when you realize how curly his hair is from air drying post-ice bath. You get lost kissing like this for a few moments before you pull off his shirt and move to lay back down on the couch, wrapping your arm across his broad shoulders in hopes he'll follow you.

He allows you to pull him on top of you and he swiftly adjusts your position so that he can rest between your legs. You're feeling bold so you lick into his mouth and raise your hips against his, electricity running through your body when you hear a slight moan in response and feel his growing arousal through the thin fabric of his shorts. It's your turn to offer up some sounds of pleasure as he focuses his attention on kissing along your jaw and down the length of your throat.

Ash pulls away briefly to search your face for permission as his hand starts to make its way up the skirt of your dress; you guide his hand to lightly brush over your panties and satisfaction flashes across his features when he feels you've started to soak through. You buck into his touch and he takes the hint, dipping into your underwear and running his fingers along your folds.

"Already so wet for me," he teases. "You ever thought about this before?" The large pad of his thumb rubs gentle circles around your clit as you feel two fingertips dancing around your entrance.

You whimper softly into the kiss he offers and he takes that as encouragement to slide his fingers into you. You pull away from his lips and answer with a shrug, “This? A few times.” You rock against his fingers for emphasis. “But not as much as I’ve thought about being filled by your cock,” you banter shamelessly.

He grins at your assertion, hooking his fingers in a way that has you gasping. “Oh, is that what you want?” He pulls his fingers from you, eliciting first a disappointed moan from you and then an aroused one as he promptly sucks them clean. “I’m gonna fuck you so hard that you forget you ever even met that asshole.”

Ash hikes your dress up over your hips and works your panties down your legs while you sit up and reach for his backpack on the coffee table across from the couch. You dig for only a few seconds before your hand resurfaces holding a condom. He gives you a surprised look and you toss it to him, snorting, “There’s no way my nosiness even cracks the Top 5 most shocking twists of tonight.”

He pulls his shorts down enough to get his cock out and rolls the condom on, chuckling. “I don’t know if I’d call us finally fucking shocking,” he comments.

“I guess that’s true,” you pull him into a kiss, laughing against his lips. “You’ve been trying to get it in for a while.”

He shakes his head fondly and settles himself over you once again; he pushes in and you both groan at the sensation. While you adjust, he pecks along your neck and the tops of your breasts where your dress has fallen down slightly; you decide you need more of that so you pull the bodice down further, exposing your chest to him. He immediately takes advantage and fits his mouth around a nipple while his hand toys with the other one.

You move your hips against him, signaling that you’re ready for him. He starts trying to build a rhythm and while it feels good, it quickly becomes apparent that the limited space of the couch isn’t giving you enough room to spread and accommodate his large build. It’s a giggly tangle of limbs as you both maneuver to try and determine the best course of action, eventually settling on you resting your legs on his shoulders.

Ashton begins slowly pumping his hips again and you both instantly feel the difference in depth; you moan and grabble at his back, bending your legs further towards yourself to get him closer. He growls at the sight. “Wow... I didn’t realize you were that flexible.”

“Missed opportunity for those dreams you’ve been having,” you tease, digging your nails into his arm as his cock drags against a particularly pleasurable spot.

He picks up speed, thrusting into you hard and deep, your pleased sighs and gentle whines spurring him to move faster and fuck you rougher. He notices you biting your lip to keep from crying out and decides that simply won’t do. 

“Lemme hear you, gorgeous... need to know how I’m makin you feel. Thought you couldn’t wait for my cock to fill you,” he pants, pounding into you vigorously. “I know for a fact that you can be a hell of a lot louder than that.“ He presses down on one of your legs as he thrusts, reaching an even deeper spot inside you and you let out a guttural moan.

Your head is spinning as you look up and see a blend of lust and pride all over his face; you’d love to fire back some clever retort but he’s fucking you so good the best you can manage is a whiny “Fuuuuck… Ashhhh… pleeeease…” You’re surprised you already feel the beginnings of your orgasm creeping up on you and you claw at his neck and chest as your breathing intensifies.

“GOD, Ash… gonna cum,” you announce. It’s the last coherent sentence you produce for a while as you cry out repeatedly, your legs shaking and your pussy throbbing around his cock. You don’t usually orgasm from just penetration and the intensity of it is blinding.

He fucks you through it, holding your legs tight and encouraging you. “So pretty when you cum… feels so good around me,” he murmurs. Moments later, a series of grunts signal his impending release and you moan for him, watching as his hips stutter and he cums into the condom.

Ashton eases your legs down from around his shoulders and leans in to kiss you sloppily. He lays his head on your chest and you stroke his hair as you both process what just happened. He gets up after a few seconds to dispose of the condom and a comfortable silence fills the air as you both attempt to make yourselves presentable again.

He hisses sharply as he pulls on his shirt. “Goddamn, you scratched the shit out of me, woman,” he laughs in disbelief.

“Well, I’m gonna be walking a little funny for the next couple days so I think we’re about even,” you grin, relieved that at least this part of your relationship has remained unchanged.

You’re both just about ready to head back out when something occurs to you. “Hey, what did you mean when you said you know ‘for a fact’ that I can be loud in bed?”

Ash looks half-guilty, half-amused as he answers, “When you and that asshole first got together on that tour… I had the room next to you… things were overheard. Really difficult not to overhear, if I’m being honest.” He chuckles and shrugs.

You burst out laughing, cackling so hard you need to sit back down on the couch. Ashton looks at you in confusion. “I… I…” you struggle to get the words out, wiping tears from your eyes. “I was absolutely faking it for him those nights… most nights, to be honest.”

He giggles first out of shock and then at his next thought. “Well, if he’s anywhere backstage right now, he definitely just heard what a real one sounds like,” he smirks.

—-

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[trashcanband4]

Therapy Sessions Ch. 3

Ch. 1   Ch. 2

Pairing: NeganxOc (Kelly). Setting: The Sanctuary. Warnings: Ooc Negan.

Three weeks went by. She would sleep on the other side of Negan’s bed. Wake up to him gone, do a morning work out, eat whatever small amount of food was left on a plate on the table then wait for Negan to come back just to be prodded with what he called get to know you question’s. These questions were so pointless and superficial that she swore that Negan was simply trying to bore her to death. Frankly she was getting tired of it.

It was after the twentieth or so question of the day that she asked, “Why are you wasting time and resources on me?” finally snapping, raising her voice at him for the first time. “Why are you dead set on this?” she stood up and looked down at him.

He glared up at her. “I don’t know. I just know I need to.”

“God, you are so…” she started but stopped, not being able to think of a word that described him.

“Charming,” he said as she stood up, looking down at her, “handsome, generous, drop dead fucking sexy as hell.” He finished with a smile and a slight lean back.

“Annoying…ass-hole…arrogant… bastard.” She spat the words at him then moved to turn around, but he grabbed her by her arm and pulled her back around to face him. Her eyes traveled to his hand on her sleeved upper arm then back up to his glaring, dilated eyes.

“I have taken it easy on you, Dead Girl.” He warned her. “Talk to me like that again and you’ll join Daryl on easy street.”

“Good, do it, it has to be better than do you like this, do you like that, when did you lose your virginity, when did you have you first kiss, blah blah blah blah blah.” She said in her best deep Negan voice. “If your goal is to drive me fucking bat shit crazy then congratulations you’ve won! The fucking gold metal goes to surprise, surprise, you! Asshole of the year everybody!” she was yelling at him and finally lashing out, but it wasn’t enough for Negan, he needed more.

So with glaring eyes and a strained grin Negan he wrapped his long fingers around her neck and shoved her back until her butt hit the edge of the table causing glasses to rattle then pressed his lips to hers. He was actually surprised that she started kissing him back and placed her hands on his sides. As her tongue snaked its way into his mouth she slid one of her hands up to rest on his chest. His hand on her throat relaxed as his eyes slipped closed. Feeling him relax she swiftly, slid her hand across his chest and used her forearm shove him back with all her might.

He stumbled back, hand still in there air where it had been on her neck as his eyes slowly opened. As he saw her panting with flared nostrils and fire in her eyes, a smirk spread across his lips. “Well, I wasn’t expecting that.” His words had no effect on her. “But that, right there,” he motioned to her face, “I did. You fuckin’ look like you want to murder me right now, Darlin’.”

“I fucking hate you.” she growled still seething in anger.

“According to that kiss, you fucking love me.” He said with another cheeky grin and a jerk of his chin.

“Don’t flatter yourself.” She told his as she walked around him. “It was a distraction tactic and it worked.” She grabbed her plaid shirt off of the bed and shrugged it on.

With her back still to him she drew in a calming breath then held it a few seconds. “Holy shit, he just fucking got to me. He fucking did it. I felt pure…raw rage for the first time since Markus left me. Oh my God, is that when all this started, when he left me? Is that when I started shutting down? And whoa, that kiss. I had thought about Negan kissing me before, when he first brought me here and I thought that sex is what he wanted from me, but holy fucking shit was that good.” After silently panicking she let the breath out. “What’s next, you gonna try to make me cry?” she asked as she turned around and walked past him and sat down in her dining chair on the left side of the table. “Boo hoo hoo my children died and my husband left me. You murdered two good men and took me away from my people. You made Kelly angry waah.” She rubbed under her eyes as she pretended to cry then dropped them from her faced and let her face turn sarcastic. “I don’t cry anymore. In order to cry you need to hurt and I can’t get hurt anymore.”

“Getting hurt is part of living.” Negan responded. “Shutting down like you’re doing is hurting you.”

“I can’t feel anything.” As she spoke her eyes fell to the floor. “What I’m doing is self preservation.”

“No, what you’re doing is selfish.” He countered.

“How so?” she asked.

“By not letting people in, you’re robbing them of the pleasure of knowing you, of having a friend in you. Hell you are drop dead fucking gorgeous.” She rolled her eyes at him. “Seriously, I’m surprised some poor fucker hasn’t turned just from lookin’ at you. If that kiss is any indication I’m sure you’re a good fuck too.” He was trying to get under her skin again.

“None of that is true.” She said with a head shake. “As for being a good fuck…I don’t even remember what I’m like.” She shrugged then leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms over her chest.

He moved to straddle her outstretched legs. Her eyes took in his big hands that gripped the arm rests of the wooden chair she was sitting in before she let them travel up his plain white t-shirt covered chest, his neck, his lips then his eyes. “Do you want me to help you remember?”

“No.” Negan was surprised to see that all that rage he had seen before was now gone and she was back to her cool calm collected self. “I may be mentally broken…but I still have morals. I’m not your wife.”

“Would putting a ring on your finger get you to open up to me…let me in?” he asked, still leaning over her, staring her down in the chair.

“No.”

“Tell me why not.” He said leaning down a little more as if that would get to her, “Explain yourself.”

“If you didn’t have other wives…If I knew making a vow and putting a ring on my finger would make me something special to you, then maybe it would help. Maybe, but you’ve already admitted between the lines that you don’t see them as real wives. So why would I want that for myself?”

“I guess as you see it now you wouldn’t.” he stood back up and moved to sit in the chair across the table from her. “But you’ve already got one advantage over them. I don’t allow them to sleep in my bed. I don’t give anyone anything without expecting something in return. Most people here, they work for points and those points are spent on what it takes to keep them alive and comfortable. My wives, they earn their keep by keeping me happy. Then there are the people that are good for nothing but working the fences.” He explained a bit of the inner workings of the sanctuary to her. “What have you given me to earn what you have been given? As I see it you are in negative points right now which is not a good place to be.”

“I didn’t realize that’s how it worked.” She said quietly, hating the fact that she was now in debt to him. “I’ll earn my point’s… Just tell me what to do and I’ll do it.”

“All I want you to do for now is let me help you.” he answered.

“I don’t know how to do that.” She whispered more to herself than him. “I can handle being thrown into a room to be isolated and abused. I can even handle physical torture, but I have spent years building up these walls that you’re asking me to break I…” for the first time in a long time she felt her eyes water, but she didn’t let the tears fall. “What if I break?”

“That’s what I’m here for.” He told her as he leaned up and placed his arms on the table. “If you break, it’ll be because I made you. So I’ll pick up the pieces and put you back together.”

“And how do I know I can trust you?” she asked sitting up to mimic how he had his arms cross on the table. “How do I know that you don’t intend on breaking me and leaving me that way? How do I know that you don’t get some sick sadistic pleasure out of breaking people?”

“Blind faith?” He answered and she shook her head no. “Do you know why I chose you?” he asked and she shook her head no again. “I’ve seen a lot of people with the same void look in their eyes and it never bothered me before, I never cared before. But something about you, something about how you looked at me, made me care. I care too much about you to break you indefinitely. I can’t find out what has drawn me to you until you are alive and care about the people in your life.”

Kelly sighed and let her head fall onto the table, her forehead pressed into the cold wood as she covered her head with her arms. “You might as well stick me in the cell next to Daryl. There is no fixing me. I’m too damaged…”

“You don’t have a choice, sweetheart.” His whispered, soft words made her pick her head up and rest her chin on her arms that she folded on the table. “I’m gonna fix that fucked up head of yours rather you fuckn’ want me to or not.” He stood up and locked the door and chained it shut. “You’re goin’ to stay right here. You can fight me every inch of the way, but it happenin’ darlin’.”

The fire was back in her eyes for a split second. So it surprised him when she said, “Fine.” And just like that the hatred in her eyes was gone, replaced again with emptiness. “Do your worst.” She said as she stood up and walked over to stand chest to chest with him. Her boldness also surprised him. She kept doing that, surprising him when he thought he had her figured out. “Try to make me feel something other than rage, but it won’t work. I…feel…nothing good.”

If he was being honest, she had him riled up, harder than a rock the way she kept glaring at him, her chest pressed against his. He wanted to grab her and this time push her against the door and take her right then and there, but he knew that wasn’t the way to go about getting to her to truly open up to him. Instead he bit his lip and nodded then walked around her to sit back down at the table. Her eyes followed him curiously. “You know, Daryl’s been asking about you. Every time someone goes in to feed him he asks where you are and what I’m doing to you. He’s threatened to kill me several times if I lay a hand on you.”

She sat down on the bed and pulled her knees into her chest. Negan noticed her start chewing on the inside of her lip as she stared at the floor. She had never done that before, but Negan had never spoken about how Daryl was doing before. He had mentioned here and there about what he was doing to Daryl and how he intended on breaking Daryl, but never had he mentioned Daryl’s side of things. Kelly had cared for Daryl at one point a long time ago. He’d saved her on more than one occasion and in more than one way.

“No comment?” he asked making Kelly’s dark eyes snap up at him. “Do you care about him?” he watched her suck her lip into her mouth and shake her head as her lips slid between her teeth. “Could’ve fooled me.”

“I cared about him…past tense.” She answered as she dropped her legs to hang off the edge of the bed.

“Tell me what you think about Daryl.” He told her as he leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest.

“No.” she shook her head, her brown frizzy waves slapping her in the sides of the face.

“Why not?” he asked, trying to not let his aggravation show.

“Because I’m not going to give you ammo to use against him.” She answered.

“What is said between us in this room stays here in this room.” he told her and she just stared at him. “As soon as I walk out of that door I will forget whatever you may tell me. We can’t talk about your past for forever. We need to talk about the here and now. The people you surrounded yourself with and what you think about them will tell me about you. So talk to me.”

“Fine.” She said as she leaned back to lay on the bed. “What I think about Daryl.” She sighed as she stared up at the ceiling. “He’s a damn good man. Loyal to a fault. Protective of his people. He’s saved me a lot, even when I didn’t want him to. We were close before I fell away from everyone.”

“What about Rick the prick?” he asked as he stood up and took off his leather jacket.

“God where do I start with Rick?” she scoffed. “He’s a leader, hardheaded, strong. He doesn’t take shit from anyone. He doesn’t always make the best choices, but his heart’s always in a good place when he does. He’s pissed me off more times than I can count, but he’s still a good guy.”

“What about that guy…Spencer?”

“Arrogant, entitled asshole not worth the air he breaths.” She answered quickly.

“Good to hear that, because I killed him yesterday.” Negan answered causing Kelly to sit up and look at him.

“Why?” she asked flatly.

“He was trying to weasel his way into my good graces…trying to play me and I saw right through it.” he answered.

“Stupid.” She said making Negan think she was calling him stupid for killing Spencer. He glared at her, making her realize how Negan took her word. “Spencer, not you.” she clarified. “So you’ve been inside Alexandria?” she asked and Negan nodded. “Have you met Judith, Rick’s daughter?”

“Yep, she’s a sweetheart. I made her and Carl dinner then rocked her to sleep while I waited for Rick the prick to come home. Speaking of home, you guys have it made there, electricity, running water…”

“I know I’m in no place to make requests, but can I ask that you don’t hurt Judith?” she asked quietly.

Negan stared at her for a second. “I’d never hurt a toddler.”

As he thought about Negan rocking Judith to sleep, she remembered that when she was brought to the doctor, one of Negan’s wives was leaving the office and the doctor threw away a negative pregnancy test as Kelly walked in. “Can I ask you something?” she asked and Negan motioned for her to talk. “Do you like kids?”

“I love kids, they’re the future. I worked with them before the turn.”

“Do you want kids?” she asked and Negan just stared at her for a second, trying to figure out what she was getting at.

He smiled a little, showing off his dimples before he finally answered. “I would love to have a kid one day.”

“Is that why you have all those wives? To try to have a kid before you bite the dust?” she pulled her knees to her chest again and wrapped her arms around them, thinking he was going to get mad or lash out at her.

“Hadn’t thought about it like that, but yeah, I guess that’s one of the perks.” He said with a smile on his face at the thought of having a kid. It didn’t matter which one of his wives was the mother. He just loved the idea of being a father.

After a while of sitting in silence, which was odd given that Negan was in the room, Kelly dropped her toned legs, clad in black yoga pants, from her chest and stood up. “Am I ever going to get to see what else is out there besides the doctor’s office and showers?” she asked as she walked over to the counter in the room and poured herself a glass of water. She took a drink as she turned and leaned her hips against the bar.

“The day you truly open up to me will be the day you see something other than these four walls.” He answered and she swallowed then nodded. “Oh, I almost fuckin’ forgot.” He said as he jumped up and walked over to her. “The doc. pointed something out to me today. Mentioned you might be needing these soon.” He took the glass out of her hand and replaced it with a stack of pink wrapped sanitary napkins. She wrapped her hand around the stack and dropped her hand as she looked up at him to see if he was embarrassed. Most men would be in this situation. The inner workings of the female body tended to make most men squeamish. Negan however looked amused. “Felt like a dumb ass walking around with those in my back pocket all day, just so you know.”

She smirked at him a little and simply said, “thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” He gave her a small smile in return. “Lucille used to make me go get those things all the time. She always got really sick during that time of month.” He said as he turned his back on her and walked away a bit.

As she scanned his back, taking in his broad shoulders, covered with a white t-shirt, slim waist and his ass, clad in grey pants, she felt the urge to touch him. “Fuck. This isn’t happening.” She told herself as she started chewing on the inside of her lips again. “I’m not starting to feel something for him. I just…I find him attractive, that’s it, plain and simple. I don’t like him or want him.” She reassured herself.

“You hungry?” Negan asked getting Kelly’s attention. “I’m fuckin’ starvin’.”

“I could eat.” She answered with a numb nod, Negan noticed the distracted look on her face, but decided to drop it for now. “What time is it?”

Negan looked at his watch then answered, “Six twenty-five.”

She realized then that she was actually starving and had missed lunch. “Time flies.”

“I’m gonna go grab us some dinner.” He said as he put his jacket back on and walked out of the door without another word.

When Negan was gone, Kelly pulled the sanitary napkins out of her pocket and looked at them, then around the room. She’d been there for almost a month now and in this world if you stayed in one place longer than that you started to call it home. Here felt nothing like home and as she looked at the napkins she realized they were the only things she could call her own here along with the necklace on her neck.

For the first time since she had gotten there she thought about Alexandria, about home. The old folded up photo of her kids that probably still sat on her night stand. The pictures they had drawn her that was still taped to the walls. Her clothes that hung in her closet. She missed having her own room and her own things. She didn’t think she ever would miss Alexandria.

With a sigh she tucked the napkins back into her pocket and took her necklace off of her neck. It had been so long since she opened it that she feared that it wouldn’t, but after sticking her thumbnail between the pieces, it popped open. The faces of her husband and children looked back at her. Her old life flashed before her eyes and before it could get to her, she clipped it shut and took a deep breath. She pushed back the tears before they could make it out of her eyes. Negan had really done a number on her when he pissed her off.

She was letting the breath out when Negan opened the door with a tray in his hand and a reusable shopping bag in the other. She hopped up and took the tray from him to place it on the table. “So what’s for dinner?” she asked as she turned back toward him.

“BLT’s and fresh fruit.” He answered and her mouth instantly watered. “But first I went shopping for you.”

“What?” she asked, a little confused.

“Here.” He handed her the shopping bag with a recycling symbol on the side of it and she hesitantly took it from him.

“What is this gonna cost me?” she asked still not looking in the bag.

“It’s on the house.” He answered causing her to glare at him. “It’s not a trap, I promise. I just figured you could use a few things of your own.”

“Okay…” she drawled as she set the bag on the bed and started taking things out. A hair brush with hair ties wrapped around the handle, bobby pins were hooked on the elastics, a notebook and a few different colors of pens, a Mac cosmetics lip balm that changed color depending on the ph of lips, a Too Faced black eyeliner and mascara set, deodorant, toothbrush, toothpaste, a compact mirror, tweezers, nail clippers, a nail file and a small tube of bath and body works hand cream. “Are you sure there’s not a catch? This is a lot of stuff and not cheap stuff I might add. The makeup alone is like, eighty bucks.” She knew she was making a good case for him to take the stuff back, but she didn’t want to owe him anything.

“Really, those three things are worth that much?” he asked disbelievingly and she nodded at him. “Well they’re worthless to me so take them.”

“Okay, if you insist.” She said with a nod.

While she put the things back into the bag, Negan started taking the lids off of their food. When she turned around she saw that he had found her necklace that she’d left on the table. She froze, as she saw that he had opened it and was looking at the pictures. When he looked up at her their eyes locked. “I’m guessing these are you kids.” He said as he looked back down at the pictures. “And this is your husband.” He pointed to the picture of Kell’s husband. “What are their names?” his tone told her that she had no choice but to answer the question.

“Darcy and Xavier were my kids. Markus is my ex husbands name.” she answered wondering why he cared what their names were.

“That’s what I thought.” He sighed making her cock her head at him in confusion.

“What?” she asked as he snapped the locket shut and handed it to her.

“Markus isn’t at Hilltop or The Kingdom.” She stared at him, wondering what he was getting at. “Markus is here. He's one of my men.” Negan said quietly.

Kelly just stared at him, a million thoughts flying through her head. Would he tell Markus that she was here? Would he use him to try to break her? She couldn't see Markus again, not when he was the cause if her shutting down in the first place. "Are you going to say something?"

"I don’t know what to say." She whispered as he took in the look of pure fear on her face.

"Do you want to see him?"

"NO!" Kelly answered louder than she meant to and Negan cocked his head to the side. "If I see him again I will not hesitate to kill him or at the very least re-break his nose."

"That is something I'd like to see." Negan told her with a smile then remembered that Markus's nose was broken when he first came to the sanctuary. "Wait, you broke his nose before he left Alexandria?"

"I told you things got ugly between us." She answered with a shrug.

"Elaborate." He told her as he picked up his sandwich, but when she didn't answer he looked her over a little closer and noticed her hand on her stomach. Seeing that she was so upset she couldn't eat he changed his mind. "Never mind. Calm down, eat your supper and well cover that topic in the morning."

Eventually her nerves untangled enough that she could eat and as soon as she was done she crawled into bed before Negan then quickly went to sleep.

[littlespoonevan]

Ik you’re probably a busy person but if you ever wrote a fic about gallavich being soft, domestic husbands I think I’d combust

anon said:Can we pretend i didn’t just said that? Gallavich

anon said: "Can we pretend I didn’t just say that?“ for Gallavich please!

asjksdh okay i have been thinking abt this for weeks. this is disgustingly domestic and i’m so sorry but i legit Could Not help myself lol enjoy

*

Ian bats aimlessly at his alarm clock when it startsringing, curling his arms back around Mickey as soon as he gets it to stop.“S’your turn to make breakfast,” he mutters, words half muffled by Mickey’sshoulder.

Mickey makes a sound somewhere between a groan and agrunt, dragging the covers up tighter around them. “’m supposed to get Frannyup.”

“You did that yesterday,” Ian mumbles, half-heartedlypushing at Mickey’s side only to reel him back in close against him when hemoves an inch.

Mickey grumbles something unintelligible, pullingIan’s arm tight around him like it’s a blanket. “Can’t Carl do it? Earn hisfuckin’ keep here?”

“Carl’s got the early shift this morning,” Ianreplies with a great amount of effort. Fuck he wants to go back to sleep. “He’salready gone.”

Mickey huffs but neither of them make an attempt tomove, the cold January morning seeming far too unappealing when they’re wrappedup so comfortably in each other’s arms. Ian is just on the brink of fallingback to sleep when the tell-tale patter of footsteps make their way into theirroom. Holding back a whimper, Ian lifts his head, squinting over Mickey’sshoulder to where Franny’s standing patiently in front of their bed.

“Franny, who helped you get ready yesterday morning?”he asks.

“Uncle Ian!” she announces proudly, pointing straightat him, and Ian doesn’t need to look down to know Mickey’s grinning smugly evenwith his eyes still closed.

“Have fun making breakfast,” Mickey tells him,finally deigning to get up properly as he sits up and holds his arms out toFranny. “Come on, kid, let’s play naptime before you get dressed.”

Ian lets out a long-suffering sigh, climbing overMickey as he picks Franny up and plonks her on the spot Ian just vacated.“Remember, count to one hundred and then you wake Uncle Mickey up from hisnap,” Mickey tells her, waiting for Franny’s serious nod before he lies backdown, throws Ian one last satisfied smirk and closes his eyes.

Ian flips him off when Franny’s not looking and dragshimself into the bathroom.

*

Mickey makes his way down the stairs with Frannyfifteen minutes later, both of them fully dressed and presentable, and fightsback a grin at the sight of Ian at the stove. As soon as they enter kitchen hedeposits Franny in her chair at the table next to Liam and ambles over to Ian,hugging him from behind and burying his face between Ian’s shoulder blades.

“You already got like ten extra minutes in bed,” Iancomplains, smacking his hand lightly with the spatula. When Mickey doesn’tdignify that with a response he continues with a soft, “You want eggs?”

“Yes please,” Mickey mumbles, taking a second tomarvel at the fact that this is somehow what counts for normality in his lifenow.

“Liam,” Ian calls. “You want toast with your eggs?”

“Yeah,” Liam says as Mickey hears the scraping of thechair on the linoleum floor. “I’ll get the toaster, your husband seemsincapacitated.”

“Hey, I’m doin’ just fine right here,” Mickey retorts,mouth lifting up in satisfaction at the way Ian leans into him a little more.“But throw on a slice for me too, would ya?”

He doesn’t miss the very deliberate eyeroll Liamthrows him as he passes them but Mickey sees him put an extra slice of bread inthe toaster for him so he decides not to bitch about it.

Ian touches his hand then, looking over his shoulderto get Mickey’s attention. “You able to pick up Franny from Kev and V’s later?”he asks. “I’m not gonna be home ‘til after 6.”

“I got it,” Mickey says, leaning up on his toes to presstheir lips together before Ian can go back to focusing on the eggs.

“Thank you,” Ian murmurs, covering Mickey’s hand withhis own for a minute before he shakes him off to start divvying up the eggsonto plates. “Liam, make sure you got everything for school alright? We’releaving straight after breakfast.”

“Got it,” Liam says, sliding past them with aplateful of toast. And it’s weird, Mickey thinks, how much of a routine they’veestablished in such a short time. Hell, Debbie’s only been for a week or two.But this feels so settled, so comfortable, Mickey can’t really remember whatthey used to do in the mornings before this.

*

As soon as Ian steps through the door that evening hedrops his gear bag heavily on the floor, just about managing to hang his coaton the hook and toe off his shoes before he’s diving headfirst onto the couchand into Mickey’s lap. He spends approximately ten seconds rearranging himselfuntil he’s curled on his side with his head on Mickey’s lap before he’s contentthat this is how he’s gonna stay for the rest of the night. “Mm, hey.”

Mickey huffs out a laugh, hand travelling to Ian’shead as his fingers run through Ian’s hair. “Hey. Long day?”

“There was a car accident downtown,” Ian sighs,closing his eyes as Mickey’s ministrations ease the tension in his temples.“Three cars and a van. It was messy.”

Mickey hums in sympathy and Ian is so fucking gladhe’s home with him again. “You eat anything?”

“Not since lunch,” Ian yawns.

“Wanna order a pizza for dinner then?”

Ian feels his mouth lift in a smile, blindly reachingup to pat whatever part of Mickey he can reach. “This is why I married you.”

“Just this, huh?” Mickey asks sceptically. “Nothin’to do with you bein’ obsessed with me since you were fifteen?”

Ian rolls onto his back to stare up at Mickey withshrewd eyes. “Pretty sure it was a mutual obsession.”

“In your dreams, firecrotch,” Mickey scoffs but thesoftness in his eyes betrays him. It always does.

Ian loves it.

“Everything go okay with Liam and Franny?”

“Last I checked Liam was doin’ homework and Frannywas colouring,” Mickey says. “They’re in the kitchen.”

Ian nods, finds Mickey’s hand and gives it gratefulsqueeze. With Lip moved out and renovating the new house and Debbie potentiallygetting locked up, Ian honestly doesn’t know what he would’ve done if Mickeyhadn’t been here to help him deal with all of this.

As if knowing he’s being discussed, Liam comes intothe living room, announcing his presence with a snort – no doubt at theirposition on the couch.

“Hey, little man,” Ian greets, holding an arm out togesture Liam over.

He comes, albeit reluctantly since he’s currently atthat age where he’s pretending he’s too old for affection. It just makes Ianwant to hug him harder, make up for all the ways Liam got left to the waysidethe past few months.

He pulls Liam onto the edge of the couch, holding himin place with an arm around his middle. “You have a good day at school?”

“It was fine,” he says, ever an open book.

“How’d the book report go?”

“Crushed it, obviously.”

Ian grins, reaching up with his free hand to ruffleLiam’s hair. “Hell yeah you did. You want pizza for dinner?”

Liam turns to look between him and Mickey, eyebrowsraised suspiciously like they’re bullshitting him. “Always.”

“Get the takeout menu off the fridge and call it in,”Ian tells him. “Pick whatever you want.”

“No fucking anchovies though,” Mickey warns.

Liam waves him off, standing up when Ian releases himand scuttling back into the kitchen.

Ian relaxes back into the couch then, head stillpillowed on Mickey’s thigh as he closes his eyes once again.

“You plannin’ on staying like this all night?” Mickeyasks bemusedly, even as he reaches his hand up to run over Ian’s arm.

“Nah, I’ll sit up to eat my pizza.”

Mickey lets out a laugh, touch making Ian tingle ashe scratches at the base of Ian’s skull. “Whatever. Don’t come cryin’ to mewhen you get a crick in your neck.”

*

Later on, when they’ve gorged on too much pizza andMickey is slipping pleasantly into a food coma Ian begrudgingly drags himselfaway from Mickey’s side to put Franny to bed. “Come on, munchkin,” he says,swinging her up into his arms and stepping over the toys on the floor to getaround the couch. “Time to brush your teeth.”

Mickey watches him go and feels a fierce kind offondness burn in his stomach. He always thought he was immune to that girlybullshit of finding guys who are good with kids attractive but evidently not.Or maybe he just finds Ian attractive – in every context.

He doesn’t realise he’s being watched until Liamspeaks, making him snap his gaze guiltily away from Ian’s retreating figure upthe stairs.

“Are you and Ian gonna move out?” Liam asks andMickey screws his face up in confusion.

“Why the fu- why would we do that?” he says, clearinghis throat. He’s been trying to swear less in front of the kids. Fat fuckinglot of good it does when Carl curses like a champ. “We got a perfectly goodhouse here.”

Liam shrugs. “Fiona did and now Lip has too. It kindof makes the most sense for you two to move out next since you’re married andall.”

Mickey eyes him for a minute, catches sight of theway Liam’s shoulders hunch slightly under his scrutiny and feels his own oldabandonment issues come to the surface. He’s pretty sure he knows why the kid’sasking. “Nah, man,” he says casually. “Me and Ian are on probation and have nomoney after the wedding. We’re only both just getting back to work – we’re notgoing anywhere for a while.”

Liam nods and he looks way too fucking pensive for aten year old.

“Besides,” Mickey finds himself continuing, feelingawkward and entirely unsure of how to navigate this conversation. He’s stillgetting used to being sincere with people who aren’t Ian. “Even if we did moveout you know your brother’d kill me if we didn’t take you with us.”

And it’s worth it to see the way Liam immediatelyperks up. “Seriously?”

“Hell yeah. Ian’s not gonna leave you alone untilyou’re eighteen. Prepare yourself; you’re gonna be sick of him by then.”

Liam pauses for a moment before saying a quiet, “Thanks,Mickey,” and wearing a genuine smile on his face for once as he pushes himselfout of his chair.

Ian comes back down the stairs as he starts to leavethe room, stalling him with a hand on his shoulder. “You okay, buddy?”

“Yeah,” Liam nods. “Just gonna read for a while beforebed.”

“Nerd,” Ian teases gently, an affectionate smile onhis face that does things to Mickey’s heart. “See you in the morning.”

Ian locks eyes with him as soon as Liam’s gone andMickey really thought he’d be used to the way his insides go all warm when Ianlooks at him like that but apparently not. Ian takes a seat next to him againand Mickey somehow ends up with his legs half draped over Ian’s as he turns toface him. He’d say it’s part of the honeymoon phase but truth is, as soon as hefinally felt comfortable enough to touch Ian however and whenever he wanted hecouldn’t stop. He can’t now either.

“Thank you,” Ian says when they’re settled, one ofhis arms around Mickey’s shoulders while his fingers dance over the exposedskin there. “For helping out, I mean. I know this isn’t exactly how you plannedfor our first few weeks of married life to go.”

Mickey offers him a self-deprecating shrug. “You knowI don’t mind,” he says softly. “Besides, it’s good practice, right?”

As soon as the words are out of his mouth he wants totake them back. Not least of all because Ian is suddenly staring at him withwide eyes, mouth dropped open in shock.

“Okay can we pretend I didn’t just say that?” hestarts but Ian cuts him off with a frantic shake of his head.

“Nope!” he declares, looking way too fuckingdelighted as he grabs hold of Mickey’s wrist. “Did you just say you’re enjoyingdomestic life? With kids?”

Mickey rolls his eyes so hard they almost roll rightout of his head, shoving Ian’s chest. “No, I did not say that. Fuck you.”

“Little bit you did though,” Ian grins, wrestling himuntil he’s pulled Mickey beneath him and is leaning up over him on his elbows.“Mickey Milkovich: house husband. Who would’ve thought?”

“Shut the fuck up,” Mickey grouses but there’s noheat behind the words.

Ian’s expression softens and he leans down untilthere’s hardly an inch of space between them. “For the record,” he murmurs. “Ididn’t think it was possible to be more attracted to you until I saw youcooking dinner with a toddler on your hip.”

Mickey groans, covering his face with his hands tohide the fact he’s about to start blushing hard. “Jesus christ, Ian.”

Ian attempts to pull his hands away and after a smallsigh of defeat, Mickey lets him. “You need to go steal a car or something? Makeyourself feel like a bad boy again?”

Mickey glares at him and tries desperately hard notto smile. It’s not his fault Ian’s goofy-lookin’ grin is so fucking infectious.“I fucking hate you.”

“Hate you too,” Ian beams, closing the distance betweenthem and drawing Mickey into a languid kiss.

And Mickey’s helpless not to kiss back, helplessagainst the way his toes curl when Ian flicks his tongue against his. Twistinghis hands in Ian’s hair, he pulls him down further and holds him place.

Okay, so maybe he doesn’t hate Ian all that much.

*

[trashi-bee]

Sugar

Pairing: Maid! Reader x Sugar Daddy! Vince 

Warnings: 18+ (smut), daddy kink, hair pulling, slapping, fem masturbation, fingering

Lil Summary: After months of relentlessly trying to get Vince’s attention to no avail, he finally gives you the recognition you desire when discovering you playing with yourself on his couch, providing you with an offer you can’t refuse. 

Requested Tags: @freddiessmallnipples​

Taking another glance in the mirror, you criticized your appearance. Months of trying to look your best and you’ve yet to get his attention. Working within his home has allowed you special access to his personal life; how he passes the time, who he knows, the type of women he surrounds himself with. You strove effortlessly to revamp every inch of your existence, longing to mimic nearly every aspect he savored - the kissable lips, seductive and smooth legs, paired with a sultry attitude. As time passed, your confidence faded, why hadn’t he noticed your efforts?

Voyaging through the vast halls yet again, you searched for anything misplaced or tarnished. Your impeccable eye for cleanliness has allowed you to keep this job for as long as you have, previous maids quitting when they’d be faced with the state of the mansion after a particularly hectic night. The truth is, you loved to clean up after Vince. It brought you joy to sort through his dirty little secrets while being paid, the salary provided a mere bonus. 

He’d be arriving home soon and you expected him to be pleased. Stopping near the doorway, you bent over to align his expansive range of footwear, lining them up as to make them perfectly symmetrical, pleasing to the eye. You’d work effortlessly to rid him of every irritant in his life, even if that meant getting down on your knees and scrubbing the floor until your skin was raw. Upon hearing his car pull into the driveway you apply a final layer of shimmery pink lip gloss, hiking up your skirt higher than it ought to be. 

Sauntering through the elevated doors of the entryway, he flashes you his traditional smile. His pearly white teeth and expertly tousled blonde hair was enough to make anybody with taste swoon, it was no mystery as to why such a number of women wished to be in his company. From his face, your eyes trailed down his body, he was sporting a form fitting, black tank top that fit just right and a light blue pair of denim jeans that hugged his crotch in the most delicious way, on his feet, his usual pair of cowboy boots. 

Gazing around the room, his piercing eyes fall on you “Place looks great, Y/N, why don’t you relax for a while? I know how hard you work, maybe a little free time could be beneficial”, a wave of satisfaction advances through your body, the slightest bit of recognition very much appreciated. “But- Vince, I still have so many chores to comple-“, interrupting before you could finish, he waves his forefinger in the air, a gesture that alluded he was unwilling to let you protest any further, “You’ve done more than enough, please”. With no further conversation, he turns, making his way to the winding staircase that flows onto the second floor. The view you’re given of his ass as he walks away is one you remind yourself to keep for future use, every inch of his body appearing to be chiseled in stone. 

As you’ve never allowed yourself any leisure time while at work, you’re unsure of where to start. Sorting through the options in your head, you’re diverted by the resonating sound of the television echoing throughout the spacious room. MTV was on, playing a continuous loop of today’s top hits and interviews with strung out rock stars. 

Making your way towards the T.V, you settle on the adjacent couch, turning up the volume and laying back. Relaxing in Vince’s home was something you could come to enjoy, sitting back and taking the time to relish in his environment felt right, the smell of him clinging to the interior being a source of instant relief. 

As one video ends, another starts. A familiar face appears on the screen, one you’ve seen so many times before, Vince. Every clip of him so enticing, the way he sways his hips so utterly delectable. His voice is ethereal, extremely divine in a way that it feels too perfect for this world. While each member of the band was beautiful, he was the only one you could ever seem to focus on, the one who really drew your attention. In a poor lapse of judgment, you’re drawn to your now wanting core, fingers playing on the outside of your barely-there lace underwear. Legs drawn up onto the couch, you stare attentively into the screen as you toy with your sensitive nub. The mere sight of Vince doing what he loved in a tight pair of pants was more than enough to get you off. 

A breathy moan falls from your lips, a testament to the overwhelming sexual gratification the sight of him brings you, the power he unconsciously holds over your mind and body is unprecedented. For him, and only him, you’re reduced to nothing more than a raunchy adulteress, willing to partake in his every whim and desire. Applying further pressure on your nether region, you separate your folds through the thin fabric, the wet patch forming more than evident. With a slight change of placement, your fingers move to hook on the cloth obstructing you from finally feeling bare skin. Moving the material to the side, you slide your fingers across your soaking sex, a feeling that provides you with a shiver that travels up your spine and dissipates.

The pleasure, however, is not enough to mask the fear evident within your mind of possibly getting caught. Were Vince to catch you on his couch, toying with your desperate cunt, watching him as he performed on T.V, he’d almost certainly relieve you of your duties, leaving you heart broken and without a job. Although, fear is a brilliant aphrodisiac, the near exhibitionist nature of your naughty escapades only increases your lust for more. So many times had you yearned to get off in Vince’s home, the urge to bury your face into his previously worn clothing and get off to his musk was an idea that constantly plagued your mind, but you had always been able to avoid it. Yet, today your guard had been let down more than usual, your devious desires finding their way to the surface and springing free. 

The excessive amount of slick produced from your most sensitive area begins to travel down your body and pool on the leather seat beneath your backside, a sign you’re prepared to provide yourself with further stimulation. Taking a single digit, you slide into yourself, the pressure provided not nearly enough, but satisfactory. Accordingly, a second digit joins the first, which feels proportionately better. Curling upwards, you create a hook inside of yourself, rubbing exactly where you need the most pressure. Approaching an inevitable, building climax, you’re cut short, a voice pulling you from the trance you’ve entangled yourself in. 

“Care to explain what you’re doing?”, an embarrassingly audible pop can be heard as you frantically pull your fingers from your sensitive cunt, a horrified expression painted on your face. Your mind running a million miles a minute, internally cursing yourself for being so mindless. Gradually, you turn your gaze to where he stands, having made his way to the bottom of the staircase without you noticing, how long had he been watching? Stumbling over your words, you look like a fucking fool, searching for any reason to explain your lewd behavior.

You’re met with the opposite of what you’d expected, a smile that dripped with mischievous intent plastered on his flawless face. His eyes taking in the scene before him; your fingers aloft, legs spread upon the couch, skirt hauled up past your panties, and the screen in front of you, alive with his presence. In an instant, his form looms over your own, his large hand reaching forward to take hold of the two digits you had been using to play with yourself. A brief inspection of the liquefied arousal present on your fingers brings him to huff, “Why fuck yourself to my image when I’m in the next goddamn room?

Blood rushing to your face, a red hue envelops your cheeks. You had no words, no explanation. “You know, had you made it a little more fuckin’ clearer I’d be happy to help, seein’ that tight little ass strut around my home was starting to drive me nuts, the amount of times I’ve thought of mounting that pretty frame o’ yours-“ stopping himself, he speaks again “I’ve even thought of having you be my live in bitch, a pretty little dolly that I shower in money and affection, in turn, you give me everything I want, would you like that?”

You nod frantically, the proposition everything you’ve ever wanted and more. He tuts, slapping your thighs with enough force for it to sting, involuntarily making you spread your legs further apart than they had already been. “Speak to me baby, I need to hear your words”, your doe eyes look to his, lashes fluttering and lips pouting as you speak, “that’s all I’ve ever wanted, daddy” 

Content with your answer, he sinks to his knees, face close enough to your exposed cunt to make you giggle. Moving to pull an item from his back pocket, he retrieves what looks to be a wad of cash. “Since you can’t keep your hands out of your panties, you’re gonna choke on daddy's money as he finishes you off, okay sugar?”, with a tight grip of your hair, you’re brought forward, his other hand holding the bundle of legal tender, “open wide”, Your tongue slips forward, exiting your mouth as you widen your jaw to its full extent, the hunk of bills placed delicately on your waiting muscle. He places his hand on the underside of your chin, forcing you to bite down on the intrusion within your mouth. 

A muffled mewl sounds through the room as he moves his hand southward, ghosting across your skin to your still-soaked cunt, toying with the outside of your entrance, exactly where you wanted him most. Rolling your hips forward in a desperate attempt for further friction, he brings his other hand free from your locks, slapping you across the face in an act of dominance. “I don’t like being disobeyed, kitten, stay still like a good little pet or you don’t get your treat” 

Due to fear of not being brought to climax your hips still, respecting his authority. With a hum of appreciation, he’s brought back to the task at hand.Thick fingers enter your wanton hole, digits quick to scissor and massage your insides. Immediately, you’re brought back to the state you had been in when he interrupted your playtime, heat pooling in your groin and signalling a quick but explosive orgasm on its way. 

As if the waves of pleasure flowing through your body hadn’t been enough, Vince had to apply another stimulant to drive you off the edge. Bringing his soft lips forward, he’s quick to lick at your sensitive nub, sucking and nipping at your most tender area to make you come undone at his will. His tongue at your clit, the fingers deep in your cunt and the wad of bills stuffed into your mouth work together simultaneously to bring you to a mind altering climax, drool dripping from your lips as you convulsed under Vince’s relentless, unforgiving touch. 

Spitting the cash from your mouth, you attempt to catch your breath. Body still shaking from the aftershocks of the handling you’ve endured. Pulling from your cunt, Vince licks the slick provided by your pulsating hole from his hand, reveling in the taste of your essence. 

Looking at the state you’re in, he laughs, amusement evident in his expression. “Clean yourself up, sugar, daddy's got much more he wants to try”. 

[joaquinfeed]

Wouldn't It Be Nice? (Arthur Fleck x Reader)

Prompt: Snapshots from your developing relationship with your neighbor Arthur—friends to lovers. + A little bit of Sophie friendship

Hello! I haven't posted a fanfic in a HOT minute. I know I can take my time, and you all are so sweet. But I did write this up. Thanks for being patient! It’s not my favorite, but it will do. :) Hope you all are staying safe and well.

Word Count: 4,300

Warnings: An extra amount of fluff?  Um, cursing. A small fight?

You spend more time at Arthur's than ever before. You even mention to Sophie, the girl down the hall, that he is your best friend in a passing conversation you have with her. She just shoots you a weird look and mutters something like, "I didn't think Arthur had any friends."

But now, as you enter Arthur's apartment, you question what type of person wouldn't want to befriend him. The man was sitting on the couch, a cigarette in one hand and a blue lego in the other. Your eyes travel to the coffee table where scattered legos lie around the surface, waiting to be pieced together.

His eyes narrow in concentration as he carefully sticks the blue lego onto his developing house. Your gaze follows his other hand as he lifts the cigarette up to his lips to take a puff. A satisfied smile tugs at the sides of his mouth as he takes in his plastic creation.

Yeah, you really didn't understand how someone could pass up the chance to be his friend.

__

When Arthur finally notices you standing in the doorway, he doesn't hesitate to invite you in by patting the seat next to him.

You recount the events of your day, and Arthur watches you, hanging on to every detail that escapes your lips. You, in turn, do the same for him. You don't mind, though; hearing about Carnival's adventures at the children's hospital could easily be the best part of your day.

"This little boy, Nicholas, said that I was his favorite clown that has visited him," Arthur smiles triumphantly at you, and you have to force yourself not to hug him right there.

"I'm not even surprised," you tell him, genuinely. "Although, I am rather shocked I haven't gotten a VIP performance from Carnival. I mean, we've been friends for a while now."

His eyes dart around nervously before they land on yours. "You think we're friends?"

You pause. "Do you not?"

He shrugs, and you chalk it up to his lack of experience. "I'd like to be."

"Okay, then."

Shy smiles get passed between the two of you before you settle back into the couch. The night moves on like any other, and you eventually end up pressed against him while watching the Murray Franklin Show.

__

When winter nears, and snow starts falling from the skies of Gotham, you make it a priority to buy Arthur some gear for the season. You don't buy him anything too extravagant—only some gloves and a new coat. You notice he lacks in those departments; his jacket was becoming mangled, and his gloves were nonexistent. So, at every chance you get, you save up a few extra bucks and put them in your Arthur fund.

When you present the gifts to him, his reaction was not what you were expecting.

"I am not a child," he tells you with a little venom in his words. "I don't need you to buy me things. You need to save your money for yourself."

"I just wanted to do something nice for you," you reply, shrugging half-heartedly. "I wasn't trying to make you feel like a child, Arthur. It was only supposed to be a friend helping out another friend. I want you to be safe and warm out there."

He gives you a look, almost like he's trying to judge your real intentions. You stay silent, waiting for him to take the lead. He finally gives a small nod, and the right side of his mouth twitches up.

"Thank you," he says, picking up the coat and looking it over. "I don't want you to feel like you need to buy me anything, though."

"Don't worry so much. I wanted to. I promise."

The next time you see Arthur, he's holding the door open for you to slip into the elevator. You glance at his slender frame and see he's sporting the coat and gloves. You smile to yourself, and shoot him a small wave after the doors spring open, heading out to finish your daily errands.

__

"What's going on with you and Arthur?"

You look up from your spot by the mailboxes to see Sophie's eyes peering at you with curiosity.

"What do you mean?"

She shrugs in response, reaching to open her mailbox that's next to yours.

"I don't mean anything by it. I'm just wondering. You two seem," she pauses, "close."

It's your turn to shrug. You wanted to tell Sophie just how close you truly felt to Arthur, but you didn't know the woman well enough to do that. You two have started to talk more, and you would even consider her to be a friend—or at least, on the verge of becoming one.

You shift the mail around in your hands, looking to see if there is anything important. You keep your eyes trained on the bill in front of you, your finger gently grazing over the name of your electric company.

"I told you he was my best friend," you offer. "He's really sweet, Sophie. He's not like anybody else I've been friends with. He listens to me, you know? He actually likes hearing the same old boring stuff I do every single day. Even when I tell him there's nothing new that's happened, he insists that I still talk about my day."

"Really? Arthur?"

Your lips fix into a tight line, and almost as if she can sense your displeasure, Sophie quickly throws her hands up in innocence.

"I didn't mean anything by that, Y/N," she says. "I clearly just don't know him well enough. I'm sure he can be charming."

"I'm telling you, Soph. The man is an angel."

She laughs like you just told a joke, and you laugh along with her even though you're reasonably sure it was the truth.

"Maybe it's just you that brings it out in him," she wiggles her eyebrows slightly, chuckling to herself before moving to the elevator. "See ya tomorrow, Y/N."

__

Your head was spinning. You just got done visiting Arthur at HaHa's, and the visit didn't go quite as planned. Randall, a coworker of Arthur's, wouldn't stop making crude passes at you. You watched the scene unfold—Arthur stepped up and asked Randall to stop, shouting and laughter could be heard from every clown as Randall made one one last comment about your looks. You don't know who threw the first punch, but Arthur sure threw the last one.

Your concern for your neighbor overran your pride. It wasn't like him at all to be risking his job like that for a few comments. You have comforted him enough after a long day of Randall's bullshit to know that Arthur took every bit of it just to keep his career.

As you wait outside of HaHa's for Arthur, who's cleaning himself up in the bathroom, you see the door swing open and out walks Hoyt.

"Hey," he stops when he sees you. "I know a lot of those guys in there don't really like Arthur, but I do. He just can't be getting into fights in the middle of the fuckin' workday."

"But Randall said," you start, but Hoyt shakes his head.

"I don't care what that fat son of a bitch said. You need to tell ya' boyfriend that he has one more chance to do what he's supposed to."

You inhale through your nose and exhale slowly through your mouth, trying to keep your anger at bay. You despise every single person that Arthur had the displeasure of knowing, but you were going to keep that to yourself—for Arthur's sake.

"I'll make sure to let him know," you say. "He's not my boyfriend, though." You add, weakly.

"Well, that's not what he told us."

Your eyebrows furrow together. "He told you that he was my boyfriend?"

"Yeah, that's been the word around funny town."

Hoyt dismisses himself after you keep silent, but you barely notice him walking away. Arthur has been telling people that you're dating? Did he think that you were? You ransacked your brain to try and recall a time where Arthur may have picked up that impression; you didn't find one.

It's entirely possible Hoyt’s just talking out of his ass; from the couple times you've met the man, he tended to be loose and careless with his words. The only way to know for sure is to talk to Arthur himself. And so, you keep waiting.

When Arthur finally pushes open the door, you wave him over.

"Let's go out and get some food," you say as soon as he's next to you. "My treat."

He nods, a little surprised, but falls in step with you as you walk to a small café nearby called "Gotham's Goodies." You keep your eyes ahead, trying not to stare too long at the ever-present black eye that was starting to form from Randall's hands.

Once your destination is in sight, Arthur quickens his pace a step in order to hold the door open for you. You murmur a "thanks" while offering him a small smile.

The aroma of the little café was a mixture of hot cocoa and assorted cookies that are lining the counter. You move to the glass case next to the cash register and run your eyes over the desserts staring back at you.

You feel Arthur come up behind you before his words filter into your ears. "What do you want?"

"Maybe that one," you give a noncommittal point towards one of the desserts sitting on the top shelf. If you were honest, your mind really wasn't on any type of pastry; it was still on Arthur and the prospect of him being your boyfriend. It's not that you are against the idea of dating your neighbor; you simply want to know why Arthur thinks that you are.

You tell him to pick something out for you, and he falters for a second. He looks at you like he can tell something's on your mind but does as you say. You fish a few bills out of your pocket to hand to him, but before you can, he's already giving the cashier some cash.

It's not hard to find a table, seeing that the café was nearly empty apart from an older couple sitting near the entrance. You follow Arthur to a small table furthest from the front and sit down with him. With your seat in front of his, you are finally able to see the bruise forming around his eye.

Your heart clenches in concern. "Does it hurt?"

He doesn't ask what you mean. Instead, he shakes his head. "It's not my first time."

"Ah, so you get in a lot of fights for other people, huh? Is that your way of reeling them in?"

Arthur smirks. "Did it work?"

Despite yourself, you smile at him. You still manage to shake your head while attempting to look stern. "No, absolutely not. You could have been really hurt, Arthur."

"But he said so many mean things to you," he reasoned. "It just—it made me so angry."

You scoot your stool over until it's right next to Arthur's. "I appreciate that, but I don't want you to lose your job. Hoyt said—"

"Who cares what Hoyt says."

"Listen to me. Hoyt said you have one last chance, okay? Please don't waste it on me."

Arthur's eyes widen, and he lets out a huff. "Waste? Y/N, you're never a waste."

"Just promise me, Arthur."

He looks like he wants to keep arguing, but he reluctantly nods. "I promise."

"There's also something else that Hoyt told me," you say, picking at a loose string on your pants. "I just want to let you know that I'm not mad or anything, I just want to know.."

You trail off, not really knowing what to say. He waits patiently for you to continue, and when you actually mask up the courage, it's all spilling out at once.

"Hoyt called you my boyfriend," you blurt out. "And when I corrected him, he said he was just telling me what you told everyone. That means you told everyone that you were my boyfriend? Why did you tell people that you were my boyfriend?"

Arthur suddenly looks more uncomfortable than you have ever seen him before. The café seems deadly quiet as you wait for him to speak. Soft chatter can be heard from the few other patrons, but your heart is beating so fast in your chest, you could hardly concentrate on anything else.

"I wanted everybody to lay off," he answers. "I thought they wouldn't be so mean if they knew I had somebody."

"Oh, well, you could have told- wait," you pause. "Does that mean that Randall was still talking to me like that even though he knew you were my "boyfriend?""

Arthur nods. "That's why I was so angry. He knew, and he still did it."

"Asshole," you spit out, and Arthur hums in agreement.

"I'm sorry I embarrassed you," he says. "I'll tell them the truth."

"Hey," you frown, resting a hand on top of his bouncing knee. "You didn't embarrass me at all. I was simply curious. I'm your friend because I want to be Arthur, and I would be lucky to call someone like you, my boyfriend."

"Really?"

"Really."

__

Nothing changes after your conversation with Arthur—not really. Nothing that would potentially rock the ship that you both have built for yourselves over the months. Except, a few small things have shifted in your relationship.

When Arthur's slumped into his couch to watch an old movie or a new episode of Murray Franklin, your sides are pushed together even closer than before, not leaving an inch of space between you. When you're helping him make dinner or clean the kitchen after a meal, he'll casually let his fingers ghost over yours as you both reach for an item on the counter.

Your hands swing dangerously close together as you walk through the streets of Gotham. You shiver, and he mutters something sarcastic about you "not having a good enough coat, but thank God, you bought one for him." Before you know it, his coat is wrapped around you for the remainder of your walk; this happens nearly every time.

The prospect of Arthur being your boyfriend was never brought up again. You know you could tell him right now as you walk down the snowy sidewalk together towards your Gotham apartments, that he needs to stop bumping his side against yours. He needs to stop brushing his hand against your shoulder or placing hesitant kisses on your forehead after a long day. He's not your boyfriend, and you could tell him that. But you don't. Instead, you lean into him as another gust of bitter wind hits you like a slap in the face.

"I told you to bring a real coat," he grumbles, even though you know he's not really angry. "You're going to get sick one of these days."

"You keep me warm," you say playfully as you reach for his tan winter hat and yank it off his head, only to pull it over yours. You smile innocently at him.

Arthur tries to narrow his eyes in a glare, but you can see a smile peeking through. He sighs. "Somehow, I don't think I'm going to get that back."

__

Before you can blink, Christmas is already arriving. You insist that Arthur doesn't have to get you a gift; you know money is tight. In turn, he tells you he expects nothing from you too.

"The coat and the gloves were enough," he says.

You didn't listen to him, but to be fair, he didn't listen to you either. When you get to Arthur's apartment, the door swings open, and you see his smiling face. The corners of his mouth start to fall as he sees the small wrapped gift in your hand.

"Oh, stop frowning," you roll your eyes at him, before leaning in to kiss him on the cheek. "Merry Christmas, Artie."

He looks down at the blue, rectangle-shaped package that is covered in snowmen. His eyes drift up to yours, and he shakes his head in amusement. "You never listen."

"You should know that by now."

As soon as you move from the doorway and into the house, Arthur makes a show of rushing to the kitchen and pulling out a plate of cookies he baked for you. You chuckle to yourself as he dashes around the apartment to get everything ready.

You migrate to the couch and watch as he drops a paper sack in front of you on the table.

You narrow your eyes suspiciously. "Is this a Christmas gift?"

"You aren't the only one who doesn't listen."

"Arthur!"

"Just open it," he smiles shyly, as he shifts from foot to foot. You tear open the paper sack and inside is a notebook. It looks similar to Arthur's joke diary, but a little less worn down. "It's nothing special, but I figured you- you might like it."

You flip open the first page to see a polaroid picture of you and Arthur taped to the top, followed by a list titled: "My favrite things about Y/N." As you turn the pages, more lists, notes, and little doodles fill the blank papers. Everything from "how Y/N and I met" to "Y/N and I are friends becus…"

You are almost as shocked by Arthur's gift as he is with yours. He tears open the snowmen wrapping paper to find a photo album you put together with your collection of "friendship" photographs. You took every polaroid shot that you have been saving and stuck them into the album for your neighbor. Well, almost all of them. There are a few pictures of Arthur that you saved just for yourself.

You don't waste any time in showing your appreciation to Arthur. You wrap your arms around his delicate frame and soon feel his arms do the same.

"Thank you for the present," you whisper, just loud enough for him to hear. "It was probably the most meaningful gift I've ever gotten."

"Mine was too," he whispers back, arms tightening around you. "Thank you."

"It's no big deal."

"Not for the gift," he pulls back. "For being here."

You smile softly at him. "Thank you for inviting me."

You see Arthur's lips twitch up, and before you can ask him why, he's talking—voice still quite in the otherwise silent room. "Why does Santa hate being stuck in the chimney?"

Your eyes twinkle with amusement. "Why?"

"Because he's clause-trophobic."

"Oh, Arthur," you shake your head, chuckling. "That was just a sad joke. You better tell me another one for good measure."

"How much did Santa pay for his sleigh?"

"How much?"

"Nothing. It was on the house."

Arthur broke out into a smile, and you couldn't help but laugh. You're not sure what exactly happened next, but somehow you were leaning in, and your lips met Arthur's. It surely was not a rom-com ready kiss—your mouth was merely pressed against his. But you could feel the raw emotion radiating from his touch as his fingers slid up to cup your cheek.

Your heart pounds in your chest; you could taste the remnants of oven-baked cookies and cigarettes still on his lips. It only makes heat wash over you like a wave. When you break apart, Arthur's cheeks are flushed red, and he looks as if he's weighing his options to kiss you again or dart out of the room.

Instead of saying anything about it, you try to ease Arthur's apparent anxiety by offering his hand a small squeeze. "Merry Christmas, Arthur."

A few days later, you walk into Arthur's apartment to see the photo album open on the table, and a few more pictures of you lying beside it. You feel a pleasing warmth settle in your chest; Arthur liked the gift.

__

New Year comes and goes faster than Christmas did. You spent the holiday over at Sophie's after Arthur was requested to work a New Years party through HaHa's. Although you are not best friends, it was good to spend time with another person in Gotham. Plus, you finally had someone to vent to about your other neighbor.

"And then we kissed," you say, watching Sophie's face to gauge a reaction. 

A sly smile creeps up onto her face and she nods. "I knew something was going on."

"But nothing is! That's the thing," you sigh. "He hasn't kissed me again or even talked to me about it. I don't know if it was bad, or if he's just shy. I don't want to ask him."

"I'm sure he's just nervous," she shrugs. "He hasn't had many other experiences like this, right? He probably just doesn't want to mess things up."

"I guess so," you trail off, thinking.

Sophie smirks. "Do you like him?"

"Shut up, Sophie," you roll your eyes. "What are we, twelve?"

"Come on," she laughs. "Does Mr. clown man get you going? Do you some sort of kink?"

"I'm so not answering this," you cover your face with your hand, and Sophie continues to laugh. You uncover your face, and meet her gaze. "I'm never telling you anything again."

You make it through the rest of the night—or year—with only a couple more Arthur related jokes. Sophie may have been amused, but your heart only fluttered every time she uttered his name.

You've got it bad.

__

The days and weeks continue to pass, and neither you or Arthur bring up the kiss. It's no secret—at least to Sophie—that you have feelings for him. You are willing to never bring it up if your friendship stays the same. But that's the thing. Your friendship with Arthur has not been the same. In fact, gentle touches, loving glances, and warm snuggles have morphed into lingering silence and nervous laughter—or laughter from Arthur that was not always welcomed.

Winter starts to inch away, and traces of Spring begin appearing outside— birds chirping, slightly warmer weather, and snow melting into puddles on the ground. On the first sunny day of the season, you and Arthur walk down the streets of Gotham, ignoring every rude city-dweller that passes by you.

The silence that has been dragging on between you is unusually thick in the air. Your hand swings slightly as you walk, brushing against Arthur's occasionally. When you near the end of the city limits, and the residents of Gotham start becoming scarce, you turn to him.

"I think we should talk."

He stays quiet for a beat. "About what?"

"I think you know," you slow your pace, spotting a bench sitting outside the front of a little mom-and-pop restaurant. You grab Arthur's arm and cross the street, leading him to the bench to sit down.

"Things have been kind of weird," you say after you're both settled. He nods silently.

"I'm sorry," you both blurt out.

He gives you a bewildered look. "Why are you sorry, Y/N?"

"I don't know. I never wanted our friendship to get like this—uncomfortable. It's not you! It's just- well, we kissed. You never brought it up again, and I talked to Sophie-"

"You told Sophie?"

You chew at your bottom lip, remembering every question and joke Sophie said to you that night. God, I ought to kill her, you think to yourself. "I did, but it was only because I wanted to get her opinion. I didn't know if I freaked you out or…"

"You didn't," Arthur's voice is small as he taps his fingers against his legs. "I wasn't sure if you meant it. I was giving you time to change your mind, and you never said anything either, so I assumed you did."

You let out a puff of breath, moving your hands to his upper arms to make him look at you. "No, no, Arthur. That's not it at all. For two people who mostly communicate with only each other, we really had a misunderstanding here."

"So," Arthur gives you a look of hesitance, insecurity still flickering in his eyes. "You don't regret it?"

"No," you say to him as genuinely as you could. "Not even a little."

Not even a second passes by before Arthur is leaning in. He still pauses before he reaches your mouth, looking at you for permission. You just bunch his maroon sweater up in your hand and pull him forward.

Now that you both know where the other stands, nothing stops you from keeping your lips pressed together.

Not even the snide remarks from passerby's as they leave their wholesome dinner at the mom-and-pop shop to see you kissing and laughing with Arthur on the tiny bench.

Not even the voice of an older lady walking by muttering for you both to "get a room." Because you intend to, and you intend to real soon.

__

The following Christmas, Arthur tells more Santa jokes that make you roll your eyes, and you buy more gifts even though he told you not to. He watches Murray Franklin instead of hanging lights with you, and you eat his cookies that he baked even though they're labeled "Arthur's."

But you both know that neither of you actually mind. At the end of the day, he's still your best friend. You just get to kiss him now too.

[every1studio]

SPECIAL: “pirates versus kidz” [ateez + straykids]

genre: misc. + mafia!au (mafia: violence, some hints of spice) + female reader 

ficstyle: bulletpoints + alternate versions [INTRO]

requested: “detective y/n gets involved with two conflicting mafias and has the hearts of the leaders”

note: this is a birthday special to celebrate my birthday (,: so if you all don’t mind this is written is my two bias wreckers / ft. X1′s Hangyul

you were hustling papers on your desk

what was once a clean space, now looked like it was hit by a hurricane

“detective Y/N?!” the booming voice of your commander echoed the room

you left the mess to go respond to his order

“yes, sir?” you answered formally yet casually since he was like a father to you

“I want you to go undercover for the underground conflicts between Pirates and KidZ..”

you felt a cold coat of unsettling chill ghost over your skin, “by myself?”

the commander firmly nodded, “you are the most tactically trained and skilled in the whole city and you would be one of the top detectives in this country. and the less police presence we have, the more intel we’ll get. that’s all we want from them for now..”

you nodded as you took the file on the mafia gangs and left the room

you shlumped back down at your nightmare of a desk, “just intel, huh?”

you felt someone reaching near your personal space so out of reflex, you grabbed the person’s arm and pulled their arm back while shoving their head on your desk

“Y/N! IT’S ME. IT’S ME, HANGYUL!” your kid-of-a-partner was trying to scare you but it backfired on him

you immediately let go of him, nudged him as you ruffled his hair, “what do you think you’re doing?!”

Hangyul widely smiles, “you looked down so I wanted to lift up the mood.. what’s up..”

you shrugged, “chief wants me to go undercover..”

“for Pirates and KidZ case?”

you gave him a sharp and confused look, “does everyone here know except me?”

“nope, just me.. since I’m your partner and I needed to know where you are. just so that I wouldn’t go berserk if I couldn’t get a hold of you...”

you pinched his cheeks as you tidied your desk

“the mafia wouldn’t stand a chance..” you joked trying to make light of the whole situation

you were the youngest to graduate from the academy so you’ve been with the police department throughout your whole life up until this point

being in invested in this career from a young age this was all you knew and now you’re taking a couple steps ahead of yourself with this case

you looked over the files

Pirates: known for robbing banks and big international robberies involving rare art and jewelry; they are known to have 8 leaders and are big in numbers. also hard to track down. they are constantly traveling but their home base is somewhere in Korea

KidZ: known for global hacking, large amounts of counterfeiting and gambling; they have 9 leaders that are stationed in the most populated areas of the world. come together once a month; home base is also somewhere in Korea

what would these two mafias have in common that they would be each others enemies? 

money, it always came down to money; it didn’t matter if it was blood money or stolen money.. and that was why the police had to be involved, too many people were being affected by these mafia gangs

later that week, you went to a club both of the gangs went to 

although they were enemies, they were more like frenemies; friends who always competed against each other 

you were slightly uncomfortable wearing something that would catch so much attention

and sooner than expected, you were met by Pirates first

you saw their photos through the files; but the photos really didn’t do them justice 

although they were criminals, they were mighty good-looking 

one of them especially caught your eye, but you fought it because you were on a job 

maybe it was luck, but that exact guy from Pirates made a strong gaze at you 

you put up a shy persona as looked away; pretending like you were caught in hungry stare but were you really pretending?

the guy sat down without looking at you at first, “I’ll pay for anything, the lady wants..”

you looked around secretively if there were any other girls around but you were the only one

you “nervously” ran your bangs out of your face and brought your hands down to rub your neck, “w-were you talking about me?”

the guy leans in; his body was completely facing you

“any guy here would be stupidly blind not to treat a girl like you with drinks and affection..” he grazed the back of his fingers on your arm 

you felt a sensual chill run up and down your spine but you bit on your lips to stay focused 

he gets closer to your ears as he eyes you from head to toe, “the name’s Yunho..”

Yunho reaches over to take your hand and kisses it

you blushed through your innocent smile, “Aurora..” 

you had to use a false name, you had to run it over in your head over and over and over so that you wouldn’t get caught off guard by the littlest thing like exposing your real name

“the pretty lady has a pretty name to match her pretty face...” he’s more flirty and gentle than what it said in the files 

the files said he was ruthless and being the tallest one of his pack, he had no problem with fighting more than a couple of guys at a time 

if you didn’t know, you would’ve thought that he was just a normal, confident alpha guy trying to get at you

by the time you got your drink, he sat even closer to you; if you had cross you legs, your leg would fall completely on his leg

Yunho, being extremely charming as he was, had a frightening aura to him 

you noticed the leader of Pirates, Hongjoong, came by and winked at you before whispering something in Yunho’s ear 

Hongjoong left as Yunho got up from his seat 

“sorry, princess, I got some business to attend..” he looks down at his Rolex and back at you, “but if you’re still here after half an hour... I’ll make sure you have a good time, Aurora...”

even if it wasn’t your name, you loved the way it rolled off of his tongue 

not even 5 minutes went by when you were accompanied by another guy and you knew he looked so familiar

“what’s a lovely girl like you doing by herself at the bars? the bars is more dangerous than the dance floor you know?” 

it was Han from KidZ

you pretended to adjust yourself to look prettier for him, “well.. I feel safer now that you’re here...”

you hoped that he took your innocent act as a way to get him to remember you, “that’s risky bet you’re taking, sweetheart..” 

Han puts his hand on your thigh that was the closest to him, “can I get you another drink?”

you pretended like you were reluctant to answer his question 

“hmm I don’t think it’s completely right to get a drink from someone I don’t know?” 

he chuckles, “I’m Jisung.. and you are, darlin’?”

you didn’t know he was going to use his real name, Han was his street name 

but of course, you had to pretended that you didn’t have that prior knowledge and answered his question, “Aurora..”

you kind of liked this attention but knowing that it was from mafia members made you feel conflicted 

but the job was the job 

before Jisung could bring your drink to you, someone tipped the drink up so that it would spill onto him 

you both looked over to the person who tipped the drink was Yunho

“and I ohp... my bad, Jisung.. it’s been a while.. I see we always have the same type..” Yunho pulls you out of your seat and moves his attention away from Jisung and onto you

“did I spill anything on you, sweetheart?” the dark tone of his voice was drowned out by a sweet one 

you weren’t able to even answer when you saw Jisung pour the rest of the drink onto Yunho’s head

then Jisung brings you to his side, “sadly we do have the same type..”

Yunho chuckles as he pushes his hair back; exposing his forehead, which was quite a look 

“what’s your sorry short ass going to do about it? headbutt me in the stomach?” 

Jisung reaches for something and you suspected it was a gun

with everyone in the club, you couldn’t have that happen

“if I’m the problem, I’ll leave...” you were ready to drop the job if it was to save people’s lives 

they both looked at you and smirk at each other

“babygirl you’re worth fighting over..” Yunho grazes his fingers down your face then held his hand in the area between your jawline and neck 

Jisung pulls you away from Yunho’s touch 

“if you’ll excuse me, you Jack-the-Beanstalk Giant, I’ll take the lady elsewhere..”

Yunho pushes Jisung’s head away, “try me, headass baby squirrel”

“my pleasure.. fuckin’ stringbean”

there was nothing you could do but hope that they weren’t going to cause mass terror and destruction 

but hey, looks like you got yourself right where the job needed you to be, right in between the two most infamous mafia gangs in the country 

boy do you love your job

to be continued 

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