#this is so funny to me. stealing his shit. engaged to him in spirit.

[moe-broey]

Immediately equipping the Alfonse ring and Fólkvangr like I GOT HIS SWORD BITCH LET'S GOOOOO 🏃💨

[ibelongtonegan]

Triple Play (Negan/Reader/Simon one-shot)

This fic was originally intended to be my entry for @flames-bring-a-ton-of-ash​​’s birthday challenge ages ago, but then life and a moody muse turned it into a forever WIP. And yet I just could not get story idea out of my head and did not stop until it was completed.

My prompt was “Technology – Walkie Talkies”.

Summary: some secrets are better left untold…or are they?

Characters: Negan x Reader x Simon

Word count: 5,616

Warnings: angst, dirty talk, smut, swearing

Tags (tagging my forevers and those who expressed interest in this fic at some point): @negans-network​, @i-am-negan-trash​, @emoryhemsworth​, @ridingmoxley​, @ladysyn, @sleepylunarwolf​, @letsby​, @tatertotandcassie​, @annablack1102​, @genevievedarcygranger​, @daisysouthmoore​, @hughxjackman​, @ofxallxwexlost​, @negans-wife​

I appreciate feedback and most days don’t bite. So don’t be shy to comment, message or ask me anything!

“Okay, Y/N, your turn. Dwight, Negan, Simon,” Laura chirped, her voice hissing with static. 

Your lips curled up into a wide grin as you raised the radio to your mouth.

“Fuck Negan, marry Simon, kill Dwight.”

“Damn, girl. That was quick!” Arat’s laugh echoed through the speaker. “You could have at least pretended to think about it for a minute.”

The Virginia sun was beating down with all its might as you made your way through the field in the knee-high grass. You retrieved the water bottle from your backpack, but the few gulps of lukewarm water did little to wet your parched throat.

Negan had sent out a search party for two workers who were stupid enough to break into the storage room and steal various supplies, but not smart enough to take a car to make their escape. It was just a question of time before they were captured, but you hoped it was going to happen before dinner. It was Friday, and tonight’s menu was going to be mac ‘n cheese. A hot meal and a cold shower, you craved nothing more. 

You wiped the sweat from your forehead with the back of your hand while scanning the tree line for movement, but everything looked peaceful. Despite a badly decomposed walker that stumbled out of the forest about an hour ago, the search was uneventful. To kill time, Arat proposed to play ‘Fuck, marry, kill’ on the back-up channel, which she swore was safe from prying ears since nobody ever used it.

“Poor D, why would you hurt him?”

Laura could not hide the reproach in her tone. She had had a crush on Dwight since forever but didn’t dare to make a move on him, not even months after Sherry had married Negan.

“He’s a good dude, but not my type, sorry, not sorry.”

“Okay, what about Simon?” Arat chimed in. “I didn’t think you were the marrying type.”

The chorus of cicadas fell silent in the background as the transmission ended.

“I’m not, but I can’t fuck him too if I marry Negan.”

“Wait...what?”

An amused smile spread on your lips at the frantic reaction.

“Well, you know the rules. If you marry Negan, you can’t be with anybody else but him, right? But what if I want to fuck both him and Simon? The only way is to marry Simon and cheat on him with Negan. Or better yet, to coax them into a threesome.”

“Okay, I get Simon. He’s funny, has a killer swagger and that moustache must feel like heaven on your pussy,” Laura pondered. “But Negan…I mean, he’s hot, but also volatile, dangerous, and rough. He must be an animal in bed. I bet even his cum-face is scary.”

“I choose to accept the mission and find out for your peace of mind. I think he made Sherry come at least three times last night. Lucky bitch,” you sighed with envy recalling the sinful noises you overheard from Negan’s room.

“Then why don’t you volunteer to become a wife?”

“I worked my ass off to become a Savior, and will not give it up to sit around in the wives’ lounge, eat candy and paint my nails all day. I’d rather keep my job and fantasize about Negan and Simon while rubbing one out at night.”

The conversation was interrupted by your radio emitting a long beep, pulling you back to reality and the task at hand. You stopped in your tracks and switched to the primary channel.

“The search is over, we have the sorry shits in custody,” you heard Negan’s gravelly voice announce, his patience evidently worn thin. “Everybody get the fuck back to base now!”

You felt a pang of sorrow for the escapees. They were no doubt going to receive a painfully thorough ironing after dinner.

¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤

An hour and a shower later you were on your way to the canteen with Arat and Laura in tow. The scent of melted cheese and spices filling the corridors made saliva pool in your mouth.

You devoured the plate of pasta within minutes and chugged two glasses of water to quench your thirst after the savoury meal. Feeling full and sleepy, you rested your chin in your palm, while Arat and Laura engaged in a heated debate over which of the newbie Saviors they wanted to fuck, marry and kill respectively. 

“Evening, ladies,” Simon stopped by your table, his hands resting on his hips. After giving the two girls a quick nod, his eyes settled on you. “He wants to see you, Y/N, in his room.”

You furrowed your brow in confusion. Negan didn’t summon anyone but his wives at such a late hour and he had never asked to see you in his room before.

“Something wrong?”

“Everything’s A-Okay. The boss man just wants to have a word with you in private. Let’s not keep him waiting,” Simon gestured towards the door, his usual smirk never faltering.

You stood up from the table and gave Arat and Laura a wink before following Simon out of the canteen.

“I thought he was going to punish the escapees after dinner,” you stated rather than asked while trying to keep up with Simon’s long strides.

“Tomorrow,” he muttered under his breath. “There’s another matter he wants to deal with tonight.”

His curt response caught you off-guard, but you attributed it to him being hungry, since you had not seen him at dinner earlier.

Simon led you to the top floor and stopped before a large mahogany double door. Knocking twice, he turned the knob without waiting for an answer, and motioned for you to step inside.

Negan’s quarters looked nothing like other parts of the Sanctuary. It felt like entering the suite of a five-star hotel and you couldn’t stop looking around in amazement. The room was lavishly furnished with furniture and accessories from an expensive interior design store the Saviors had looted on your first run. There was a giant four poster bed to your left, decorated with grey, satin bedsheets and neatly arranged pillows, and to your right a comfortable black leather couch with two matching armchairs surrounding a coffee table. A bar area was set up in the corner complete with leather stools and a selection of spirits. The private bathroom was hidden behind a black door on the opposite wall, but you imagined it to be just as extravagant. Negan had a taste for the finer things in life, like beautiful women, good food and his luxurious apartment was no exception. Your room looked like a mouse hole in comparison.

Negan was sitting behind his desk, several papers splayed out before him next to a tumbler filled with amber liquid. His leather jacket was draped over the back of his seat, but his signature red scarf was still draped around his neck. The soft glow of the desk lamp cast an eerie light on his face. He looked up from the ledger in his hand and beckoned you closer, pointing at the chair in front of him.

Simon strode over to the couch behind you and plopped down, the leather squeaking under his weight. You were surprised to see him stay, but Negan didn’t seem to mind his number two’s presence in the room. He took a small sip of his drink and leaned back in the armchair, studying you with an unreadable expression.

Negan had always treated you fairly, appreciating your scavenging skills and rewarding your hard work. You climbed the imaginary career ladder at the community from common worker to lieutenant thanks to your tenacity, courage and ability to handle Negan’s short temper and crude humour. Along with Arat and Simon you were one of his most trusted soldiers, carrying out his orders and accompanying him on runs. You had been infatuated with him from the start and often found your eyes lingering on your formidable leader, but seemingly he had never expressed an interest in you.    

With Simon your attraction began on your first run to Alexandria, when you were assigned to ride in the same truck and hit it off right away during the long journey. Simon was funny, smart and cute in a rugged way, and soon the two men occupied your dreams, with the three of you ending up having hot, messy sex on every vertical and horizontal surface imaginable. Yet, you did your best to act professionally around them, not letting your secret obsession interfere with your work.

“Something you wanna tell me?” Negan jolted you from your thoughts. “Anything you’d like to confess?”

“I’m not a religious person, sorry,” you pursed your lips to suppress a smile.

Simon snickered behind you, but Negan seemed unfazed by your cheekiness. He swirled his whisky a few times, his touch leaving random marks on the foggy surface of the glass.

“Okay, forgive me, Father, for I have sinned. I took an extra serving of the apple pie at dinner last night. It was too delicious to resist.”

Negan narrowed his eyes at you and stroked his chin, his gloved fingers scraping his salt-and-pepper stubble.

“Or if this is about the crime novel I haven’t returned to the library, I know it’s almost a month overdue, but I still have two chapters left and want to know who the killer is.”

You heard the sound before your eyes could register the motion as Negan slammed down his glass on the desk. You expected it to shatter into a million pieces, but the tumbler miraculously survived the impact, the ice cubes clinking against each other in protest.

“Careful, Y/N. You don’t wanna test my patience.” 

You gulped hard, feeling an uneasy chill go down your spine. Negan was usually up for jokes, but he was evidently not in the mood for them now, and you could not shake off the thought that you were the reason for it.

He stood up and keeping his gaze fixed on you rounded the desk before leaning against it, resting his hands on the edge. His crotch was level with your eyes, and you straightened up in your seat to avoid having to look at the impressive package in his pants.

“I don’t know what you want me to say,” you opted for honesty.

Negan pushed himself away from the desk and started circling you. His looming presence behind you made the hair stand up on your back, but you fought the urge to turn around.

“I don’t take lightly to my Saviors keeping secrets from me.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” you asserted but regretted it immediately when Negan’s face appeared in your peripheral vision.

“Bullshit!” he snarled against your ear. “What about that little girl talk over the radio this afternoon?”

His words made the blood drain from your face. Closing your eyes, you wished the ground would miraculously open and swallow you up.

“Imagine my surprise when during today’s run, I heard one of my top gals confess over the back-up channel that she was fantasizing about me and my right-hand man while rubbing one out at night.”

If the blood had gone from your face before, it now rushed right back up as you felt your cheeks grow hot.

“That shit made me very, very disappointed.”

Negan stepped back in front of you, and crossing his ankles leaned against the desk. The intensity of his stare made your heart sink. You tried to guess how much of your radio conversation with Arat and Laura he could have heard. If luck was on your side, he only caught the last part. If not...

…you didn’t even want to go there.

“We were just…joking. A silly chat between us girls to pass the time,” you shrugged, feeling perspiration bead on your forehead. 

Negan studied your face intently weighing your words.

“What do you make of this, Simon?”

“She’s lying, boss,” came the merry retort from the couch.

You head snapped around in protest but Negan grabbed your chin with his gloved hand, forcing you to look at him.

“I think you’re right,” he mused in a sing-song voice, his face so close that you could smell his body wash and the faint trace of whiskey on his breath. ”Get over here and give me a hand, will you?”

You heard Simon’s heavy boots cross the room and stop behind you. Negan gave him a knowing look and before you knew it, your arms were yanked back, and held firmly behind the chair.

“Where were we, doll?” Negan let go of your chin and crouched down in front of you, resting his hands on your knees. “Oh, yes. You fantasizing about me and Simon nailing you.”

He licked his lips slowly and your eyes followed the motion instinctively.

“What’s the matter, Y/N? Cat got your tongue? You were very talkative over the radio earlier,” Negan taunted sardonically.

You closed your legs to put some distance between your bodies, but Negan squeezed your thighs in warning and forced them further apart.

“Tell me what you thought about last night.”

You squirmed in your seat, Negan’s command ringing in your ears in the deafening silence that followed.

“You said that you were listening to me fucking Sherry. What did you think about to get off?”

Your eyes went wide like saucers and you desperately tried to come up with a plausible excuse, but your mind went completely blank. Sharing a kinky fantasy over the radio with your best friends was one thing. But confessing it face to face to the very subjects of it?

“Careful, Y/N,” Negan warned sensing your stalling, his mouth tightening into a thin line. “I want the truth on this one.”

You went limp in Simon’s grip with an exasperated sigh. As much as you hated to admit defeat, they cornered you. You held your head up high and gave Negan a defiant look. If he wanted to hear the truth, you were going to tell him just that, consequences be damned.

“We were in the meeting room, at the usual Monday briefing for the lieutenants. I disagreed with your order, and we got into an argument over it. I knew that I was pushing your buttons but the more riled up you got, the more it turned me on.”

Negan looked at you with a faint smirk, as if the same idea had crossed his mind before.

“You decided that if I was bold enough to backtalk in front of your men, then I would also be punished in front of them. Simon pinned me down on the meeting table, and the two of you took turns having your way with me.”

Negan’s pupils dilated, the primal reaction urging you to continue.

“All the lieutenants were watching us with hunger and envy that they could only look, but not touch or taste me. I was completely exposed and at your mercy, and yet felt safe and in control of the situation, because that was exactly what I wanted. To be taken, dominated, marked and used for your pleasure. You kept teasing me, edging me, until I was a begging mess. And in the end, you came inside me, breeding me.”

Negan tsked with a shake of his head.

“And you were hiding all of this from me? Not cool. You have no idea how not cool that shit is. But don’t worry, we will rectify the situation right now.”

Your heart dropped as the meaning of his words sank in. This was it. You were going to be demoted, lose your friends, the respect of the Saviors and could never go near Negan and Simon again. Or they would kick you out of the Sanctuary even. And all of this because you couldn’t keep your mouth shut. Now you knew why the ironing of the escapees had been postponed. Negan had deemed your punishment more urgent.

“You wanna pay close attention to this, because I’m only going to say it once. Hearing your dirty little confession over the radio made me and Simon hard as steel. So we decided to make your wish come true.”

You blinked twice, expecting to wake up from what seemed to be the weirdest dream you had ever had. You were never going to stuff yourself full of food before bed again.

“But I have two conditions. Are you with me, doll?”

You nodded weakly as Negan’s fingers drew a zigzag pattern on your jeans.

“One: as much as the thought of fucking you in front of my men is tickling my balls, I am not letting those fuckers lay their eyes on you. It’s going to be just you, me and Simon.”

The offer sounded more than fair to you.

"Two: you know well I don’t share my gals with anyone, except for when I have a moresome with my wives, and I only allow them to fuck each other because I get to watch. What’s mine is mine.”

Your breath hitched as he moved his hands further up, the tip of his fingers skimming the apex of your thighs.

“But since your fantasy involved my right-hand man as well, I’m willing to bend the rules just this once.”

Heat pooled in your belly as you watched him, mesmerized by his usually hazel eyes darkening to dark chocolate.

“So, tonight I get exclusive membership at your pussy bar, no exceptions. You will be my little breeding bitch only,” he stroked your clothed centre, eliciting a pathetic whine from you. “As for other parts of your body, sharing is caring.” Negan looked up at Simon flashing his pearly whites, before his eyes settled back on you.

You stared at him at a loss for words. One part of you was cheering you on to seize the opportunity and accept the indecent proposal, while the other was adamant that you were going to wake up any minute. Negan lifted his gloved hand to your cheek and traced your lower lip, expecting an answer. You let your body do the talking and opened your mouth to run your tongue over his thumb, tracing a shiny path on the black leather. If this was indeed just a dream, you were going to make sure it would be a wet one. 

“Damn, Simon, I knew she was going to be trouble from the moment we met her,” Negan drawled, his eyes heavy with desire.

Grabbing the back of your head he pulled you up and claimed your lips in a passionate kiss, his tongue exploring your mouth possessively. Simon pushed the chair out of the way and pressed himself into your back trapping your body between him and Negan. Even through two layers of clothing you could feel the outline of his hard-on, earning a low moan from you.

“Easy, Simon,” Negan grinned wickedly, sucking and nibbling on your neck. “We don’t want her to cum just yet.”

Closing your eyes, you rested your head on Simon’s shoulder to offer Negan easier access to your skin. Lost in the pleasure the two men were showering you with your right hand went to cup Negan’s bulge, while you grabbed the back of Simon’s head with the other and arched your back against him.

“Looks like someone’s eager,” Simon murmured grinding into your ass.

“She’s not the only one,” Negan hissed. “Let’s get her out of these fucking clothes, before I blow my load in my pants.”

He lifted your shirt over your head, and Simon unbuttoned your pants and pulled them off your legs along with your boots. You felt self-conscious standing before the two men in nothing but your underwear but Negan’s lustful gaze and the appreciative rumble in Simon’s chest chased all your insecurities away. Simon unclasped your bra and you dropped your hands to your sides, letting it slide down onto the floor. He went for your panties next, but Negan stopped him with a grunt, reminding him of the exclusive territorial rights he had established earlier.

Simon seemed unfazed by the setback and put his plan B in motion peppering your neck with sloppy kisses. He placed his right hand on top of yours, and guided it from his crotch to your front, tracing your belly button with the tip of your fingers, before slipping them inside your panties and brushing your slit.

His ingenuity impressed you, but Negan didn’t share the sentiment. 

“Hands off, Simon, her pussy is mine,“ he bared his teeth at him.

The primal gesture combined with the possessiveness in his voice made your insides coil with anticipation. Simon held his hands up with a smug look and licked his fingertips, his eyes closing in delight as he savoured the taste of your arousal.

Negan yanked your panties down, the disapproval over your complicity in Simon’s crime evident on his face. Simon kneeled on the ground and lifted the garment to his nose to take a whiff, before letting it fall on top of your discarded clothes.

“I think we should catch up with her, Simon” Negan suggested, his eyes drinking in your nakedness.

He took off his shirt revealing tufts of dark chest hair and various tattoos, some faded, some more recent looking. You heard Simon unbuckle his belt behind you and looked back over your shoulder to steal a glance. He was bulkier than Negan, his muscles defined, and chest fully shaved. You watched the piles of clothes grow by their feet until they stood before you completely naked, their cocks standing proud against their bellies. Simon’s was thick and veiny, Negan’s long and smooth, but both impressive in its own right. You bit down on your lip, yearning to taste them.

“Like what you see, doll?” Negan flicked his tongue suggestively at you. “Get on your knees and show Simon what that smart mouth is capable of,” he instructed pointing down on the ground. “But don’t make him cum yet.”

“I don’t make promises I can’t keep,” you purred.

“We shall see when you choke on his dick,” Negan replied darkly before turning to his right-hand man. “Show her who’s the fucking boss here.”

Simon didn’t need to be told twice and placing his hand on your shoulder pushed you down on the carpet. You grabbed his cock and gave it a few pumps before licking off the drops of pre-cum oozing from the tip. He sighed out loud, as you closed your mouth over the head and sucked gently, enjoying the salty taste. You swallowed him inch by inch, tracing every vein with your tongue, until he was buried deep in your throat. His hands tightened in your hair to keep you still, eliciting a muffled whine from you, your lips vibrating around his length. When you could no longer fight the need to gag, you began to move, bobbing your head up and down.

Opening your eyes, you searched for Negan and found him getting comfortable in the chair you had been sitting in before. He was watching your every move, legs wide open, stroking himself lazily. You mirrored his pace instinctively and sucked on Simon in sync with his palm fisting his dick. Negan sucked on his teeth as he watched your cheeks bulge rhythmically.

You pulled back and swirled your tongue around the crown like catching drips from a melting ice cream cone. Simon lowered his hand to the back of your head, spreading his fingers wide for a solid hold, and started fucking your mouth with abandon. Your throat was contracting and burning with every thrust but you didn’t mind the discomfort, feeling a rush of blood go to your core from him using you just like you had imagined.

“That’s enough,” Negan barked, but Simon was too far gone in pleasure to listen, his eyes closed, and head thrown back. You kept your eyes on Negan to show him that you had heard him and doubled your efforts, forming a ring with your thumb and index finger around the root of Simon’s shaft, and cupping his balls in your free hand. You knew that you were playing with fire, but the thrill was too tempting to resist.

Negan’s mouth twisted into a snarl and he jumped up from the chair to advance on you, his manhood swinging with every step like a metronome. You felt a sharp tug on your hair and let Simon slip from your mouth, a string of saliva hanging off your chin.

“I said, enough!” Negan repeated and pulled you up into a standing position. “Simon, take a time-out before you bust a nut.” 

You felt him swat your ass hard and yelped in surprise.

“This may be your fantasy, doll, but I call the fucking shots here and will not hesitate to dole out some hard punishment, if you don’t follow my orders,” he seethed.

Still holding you by the make-shift ponytail he pushed you towards the bed and showed you down on the mattress.

“On your back, arms above your head.”

You laid back down against the pillows as you were told. Negan knelt between your legs and spread them apart by your knees.

“Well, would you look at this creamy little mess in here!” his eyes gleamed with unadulterated joy.

Getting on his elbows, he traced your mound with his lips, his mouth barely touching you, the combination of the scruff of his beard and his warm breath tickling deliciously. Your hands fisted the sheets as he licked your pussy from bottom to top, before dripping the tip into your opening, and lapping up your juices with relish. He peeked up at you through his long lashes, watching your reactions. His lips were sticky with your arousal as he ate you out shamelessly as if you had been his last meal on Earth.

You looked to your right to find Simon sitting on the couch, watching the two of you with drowsy eyes. He was trying hard to comply with Negan’s orders, but it was evident how much he wanted to touch himself as he fidgeted in his seat, his cock begging for attention.

Negan moved his tongue to your clit and sucked it between his teeth, the sensation exquisite and overwhelming at the same time. You cried out and digging your heels into the mattress lifted your body to move away from him, but he wrapped his fingers around your thighs holding you in place. His tongue continued its sensual assault alternating between slow, soft flicks, and fast, greedy slurps. The variation of the tempo and intensity combined with the thrill of not knowing what his next move would be was driving you crazy with want.

You bucked your hips to maximize the contact between your bodies, he, however, had other plans and sat back on his heels. Pulling you down by the waist until he was kneeling between your thighs, he lined himself up at your entrance and began grinding against your heat, coating his length with your wetness.

“Negan...” you whimpered and raised your pelvis to make him slide inside you, but he restrained you by putting his hand on your stomach.

“Not yet.”

Getting impatient you reached for his dick, but he slapped your hand away.

“I said, not yet! Simon, come here!”

You felt the bed dip and calloused hands pinning your wrists down on the mattress. Tilting your head to the side you continued to suck on Simon, eager to finish what Negan’s intervention had interrupted earlier.

You arched your back off the mattress as Negan pinched your right nipple and rolled it between his fingers. He grazed your left nipple with his teeth, before sucking it into his mouth and blowing on the stiff peak, his saliva feeling like a cool ointment against your overheated skin.

“Please...” you gasped, not sure if you were asking him to stop or to go on.

“I think she’s learned her lesson,” Simon gritted his words, the sensory overload of your lips on him, and the sight of Negan toying with you pushing him dangerously close to the edge.

“I don’t think so, Simon. But it looks like she will milk you dry any minute, and I want to fuck this pretty pussy raw finally.”

Negan positioned himself at your dripping cunt and slid inside, inch by inch. You cried out in ecstasy from the sweet pressure of him stretching you wide. When he was buried to the hilt, he remained still, and taking hold of your ankles, spread your legs wide.

“Look at that, Simon, how she is taking my big, fat dick like a champ?”

He finally began to move in a painfully slow rhythm, enjoying as your warmth enveloped him. Crossing your legs for a closer fit he placed your feet on his shoulder, the penetration so deep that you let out a cry with every thrust. Your entire body was covered in a thin layer of sweat and your damp strands of hair stuck to your forehead. You were exposed and at the mercy of the two men, but had never felt this free and complete. Tension was building in your stomach and you closed your eyes to absorb yourself in the moment.

Negan, however, pulled out abruptly, earning him a frustrated mewl from you that he rewarded with a slap delivered on your swollen clit.

“On all fours, doll. I want to fill this fertile pussy full of my cum.”

Simon let go of your arms and sat back against the headboard. You rolled over lifting yourself up on your elbows, barely able to support your own weight. Negan lifted your ass up and placing his palm between your shoulder blades pushed you down in Simon’s lap. When he was satisfied with the angle, he rammed into you again, his fingers digging into your hips. 

“Are you going to cum on my cock, like a good girl?” he growled and spanked your ass hard.

You cried out an affirmative and continued to pleasure Simon while chasing your own release. A few seconds later you felt every nerve ending in your body tingle and warmth spread to your core. Your toes curled inward as your body surrendered to the inevitable and waves of ecstasy washed over you, dulling your senses for what felt like several minutes. The vibrations of your moans around him made Simon succumb to his own climax. He started twitching and throbbing, before spurting his seed down your throat. You swallowed every drop hungrily before releasing his softening member from your mouth.

Negan let you ride out your high, and then picked up the speed again. Fisting your hair, he pulled your head back twisting your body in an unnatural shape as he continued to pound you. His hand curled around your neck, his fingers squeezing hard enough to make black spots appear in your vision and blood drum in your ears. Drops of sweat fell from his chest to your ass tickling down to your sides and onto the sheet as he rode you, not losing his rhythm for a second.

His moves became more urgent, until he buried himself inside you one last time. He groaned a series of expletives under his breath before biting down on your shoulder as he came inside you, coating your inner walls with his cum. His fingers released their grip around your throat, allowing much-needed oxygen to fill your lungs and a second orgasm, even more intense than the first, consume you. You collapsed on the bed all strength leaving your limbs, as the room came back into focus, your heightened senses perceiving everything all at once.

Negan rolled off of you onto his back, his arm resting over his eyes, as Simon laid down against the pillows, a sly grin plastered over his face.

“Damn, boss,“ he wiped his brow with his thumb. “If only all dreams came true.”

Your reply was a tired but satisfied hum of agreement. A girl could dream, but making it come true was so much better.

¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤

You stirred awake at the break of dawn. Taking in your surroundings you realized that you were still in Negan’s bed. It was dark outside, but the first rays of the sun peeked through the heavy curtains. You felt spent and sore, your skin sticky with the remnants of sweat and dried cum. The bitemark on your neck was still tender, but you wore it with pride as proof of Negan’s claim over you. Turning your head, you found him lying sprawled out on his stomach, his breathing deep and even, but Simon’s side of the bed was empty, the wrinkled sheets cold already.

You sat up carefully, searching for your clothes in the dim light, when you felt a strong arm circle around your waist.

“Where do you think you’re going, doll?” Negan’s raspy drawl made you shiver.

“Back to my room?” you looked at him over your shoulder.

“Nuh-uh,” he pulled you back against his chest. “You are staying. I want you all to myself for round two in the morning. And after that I may even change my mind about fucking you at the Monday briefing.”

“You wouldn’t dare!” you tried to untangle yourself from his hold but were easily overpowered after a playful struggle and his expert fingers finding your tickle spot.

“Just sass me, doll, and you shall see, along with all the filthy ideas I have on my mind.”

The alluring promise made you relax against him, dark words whispered in the twilight lulling you back to sleep, and another fantasy taking shape in your imagination already.

[vaguely-concerned]

Some T.F./Graves thoughts from their bios

I realize what a dumb move it is to base uuuuh basically anything on lol bios, since riot apparently change those like other people do underwear, but if I’m not here to build my castles on sand what am I here for honestly  

- I LOVE the description of their first meeting, it’s such a meet cute lol... these two assholes really did just take one look at each other and mutually went ‘so is anyone gonna enter into a life-defining homoerotic partnership with this lying cheating bastard??’ and then neither of them waited for an answer 

- Though at times Twisted Fate would blow all their shares and leave them with nothing to show for it, Graves knew that the thrill of some new escapade was always just around the corner…

I am genuinely a little emotional about how obvious it is that at the end of the day the money really is secondary to him - what really drives him is how much FUN they have together. (he seems in general quite driven by that sense of Adventure; if it were just about the cash he had steady work in bilgewater before he took the trip over to the mainland as a kid) it’s like the part of ‘the road to el dorado’ in the boat except more sincere... ‘you made my life an adventure bro’ :’) 

(also very funny that graves’ bio is where you learn that t.f. doesn’t always win or get away with his shit hahaha, in his own bio it’s played like ‘oh gotta let people win once in a while to throw off suspicion’ flasdhfjsad. it’s mentioned he gets caught a lot more without graves watching his back too, which also gets me in my feelings a bit) 

- one thing I find interesting is that t.f.’s parents aren’t referenced directly at any point (the only family members mentioned specifically are his aunt and grandfather, I’m pretty sure). I’m wondering if they were already out of the picture somehow and that’s part of the reason no one spoke up for him? I mean it’s fucked up either way, I don’t know what’s worse; that his people found it so easy to exile him because he didn’t have anyone to protect him, or that his parents were alive and JUST LEFT HIM THERE. like what the fuck. from how it’s written it’s pretty clear he was still considered a child at the time too, so, y’know. (Graves is described as ‘little more than a youth’ when he headed for the mainland while T.F. seems to have been a kid when he started being on his own, so I’ve headcanoned something like 16-17 and 13-14 for their respective ages of leaving home, with both of them around 19 when they met) I’m quite curious about what kind of internal family politics were at work for them to apparently all agree -- or perhaps be too intimidated to disagree -- to exile a child for life with no recourse and no resources. like yeah okay he messed up but that’s some next level assholery to pull on a kid honestly, no wonder he grows up to have a bunch of abandonment and emotional intimacy issues (and presumably some prime survivor’s guilt as well. oh buddy) 

- eternally entertained by how much meeting t.f. is worded like the ‘how they met their spouse’ section of a wikipedia article in graves’ bio

Across one table, he met a deplorable fellow named Malcolm Graves is also *mwha* so good 

- for fic purposes I would just like to give a moment of thanks for the paragraph in graves’ bio that mentions a bunch of shenanigans they got up to back in the day, very useful thank you

- from what I understand t.f.’s exile-causing transgression has been changed quite recently from fighting back to running away, which I am so happy about because it makes a lot more psychological sense to me and makes graves’ words in ‘burning tides’ hit so much better.  

- I like that their individual descriptions of graves being captured are so indicative of how they each think about it -- namely t.f. doesn’t want to think about it (repress! repress! repress! very relatable) but probably has the more accurate view of it: The exact details of that night remain shrouded in mystery, for neither of them likes to speak of it—but Graves was taken alive, while Tobias and their other accomplices ran free, while graves does think about it but sort of still has his trauma goggles on for it: During a heist that rapidly turned from complex to completely botched, Graves was taken by the local enforcers, while Twisted Fate merely turned tail and abandoned him. t.f.’s is obfuscating and refusing to engage in the emotional aspect of it, graves’ is much more emotive in the language used, like ‘abandoned’. the lol bios often teeter awkwardly between straight biographies and wanting to dip into prose/flavour text, I must say I usually find them very clunky and unsatisfying, but this juxtaposition works for me.

sort of weird the details that don’t make it in, though -- like the fact that they’re both aware that miss fortune was the one who screwed them over in the whole gangplank Situation? (I love that part in ‘destiny and fate’ where graves is gamely like ‘yeah of course I’ve got a grudge against her but that was pretty metal too so y’know *shrug*’ haha)   

- it’s interesting how much t.f.’s uh connection I guess to the cards is almost described as some kind of... compulsion/unstoppable drive in the middle of his bio and then fades into the background towards the end (because his priorities have changed to repairing his marriage now that it’s an option and by god I support him in that). I really do wonder how his card magic actually works -- it’s a cool mix of extremely unsubtle and undeniable sorcery (straight up throwing fireballs around) and subtle (’hunches’, being ‘guided’, just knowing things he sort of shouldn’t), which seems to be where it started

also it seems like he can do it with just about any playing card he comes across? would be sort of weird if it’s the cards that are special, considering he keeps throwing them away and also I don’t know a lot about gambling but I distinctly imagine that casinos don’t let you use your own decks haha. and t.f. seemingly can’t do magic just on his own, without them. so it’s a thing that happens very specifically in relationship, when all the elements come together, symbiotically sort of thing? could he do magic without the cards but it’s how he’s trained himself to think of it so he doesn’t realize it (well I honestly doubt that but just for the thought experiment)? is there some sort of spirit behind those cards looking out for him? is it lady luck keeping an eye out for her favorite boy lol? we know this stuff can physically change the cards like when they showed the crown in ‘destiny and fate’, and he seems able to ‘prime’ a card with magic beforehand if ‘double-double cross’ is anything to go by, but even then mf can’t actually use or release it. hmmmmm many questions  

- the more of my long fic I write the more I am questioning what the fuck these two DO with all the money they steal -- like they’ve clearly pulled off some HUGE heists, surely it can’t all go into like drinks and cigars and fancy waistcoats and tf’s seemingly unending supply of playing cards

do they have like. a bunch of small caches of gold hidden away all across two continents in case of emergency? are their buried treasures the stuff of runeterran urban legend and people go out hunting for them? Have they invested this stuff in actual banks? (actually no I refuse to accept that as a possibility lol if nothing else this would make it hard to figure out if they were robbing THEMSELVES sometimes, sounds like a lot of hassle)

- His people had always waved away concerns over primitive magic and “cartomancy”, but now Tobias began to seek out ever more dangerous means to bend the cards to his will. 

I’m having a little bit of a hard time parsing this -- does this mean his people didn’t believe the cards were magic at all and he’s the only person he knows who can do it, or do they know but just don’t think can be dangerous??? I chose one particular interpretation for my fic, but I honestly can’t figure out what it’s actually meant to mean haha

- T.F. getting a special satisfaction from robbing people who are Assholes is a good character detail (his colour story really goes out of its way to show that the merchant he’s playing against is a real shitbag, for example); there is some lopsided form of righteousness/sense of justice there, I think. and it also ties in with why I like that his exile was because he ran away rather than because he resorted to violence -- there’s this underlying sense that he particularly enjoys outsmarting people who’re dickish to outsiders in precarious situations (like his people) so thoroughly that they don’t even realize it before he’s long gone, without ever having to even lay a finger on them, because that’s a way to fight back while staying out of reach when you come from relative powerlessness. There’s a... lack of malice, I guess, to both of them that I find quite endearing, you can see in Burning Tides that even at his most mindlessly vengeful Graves doesn’t actually enjoy being actively cruel. ‘mutual sense of roguish honor’ is RIGHT they’re bad men but not Bad men you get me  

- All in all, Twisted Fate is glad to have his old friend back, even if it might take another job or two—or ten—to restore their once easy partnership.

This probably means nothing because as I said the lol bios seem an endlessly shifting kaleidoscope of canon, but I think it’s so sweet that both of their last sentences/’where are they now’ statements are about them wanting to repair their partnership (and do some Cool Big Stuff together in graves’ case, I do wonder if that’s foreshadowing for the ruined king game or what)

[xiubaek-13]

Whiskey

Prompt: Baekhyun + “What? Does that feel good?” + “It’s only one night, we’ll just share the bed.”

Setting/AU: Bartender

Warnings: some swearing, alcohol.

Word Count: 2,077 

“Do you plan on moping at my bar all evening?” He teased as he poured you another whiskey.

You cocked your eyebrow. “And if I am?”

He chuckled, sliding your glass towards you. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m always happy to see you but you’re mood is keeping the customers away. You can stay but… maybe for the future success of my business could you move down that end?”

You looked to where he’d inclined his head, your eyes widening. “To the dark end of the bar? Real nice Baek. I’m not drunk enough to not be offended that you’re sequestering me to the area you usually reserve for curmudgeons.”

Baekhyun shrugged. “Can I convince you with free whiskey for the rest of the night?”

“And you wonder why you aren’t making big enough profits, giving away free top shelf booze…” You slid off your stool in the center of the bar and moved closer towards the dark end of the bar but you refused to place yourself at the very end, lest you admit to yourself that tonight you were in a sour mood and that you could give two shits about the other patrons. You just wanted to come and unload your troubles on your friendly neighbourhood bartender.

“I might not be a business mastermind but I’m not half bad with math and from where I’m standing the group of eight women who have been staring at my cocktail menu for the last 20 minutes while side-eyeing you are probably going to spend more money than if I charge you for the next five or six whiskeys you’ve got left in you before you need to be carried to a taxi.”

***

You enjoyed watching Baekhyun work. No matter how bad your mood was, and today it was particularly bad, he calmed you. He had a light hearted nature and the ability to talk to anyone as well as really listen to them, which is what made him an excellent bartender. He knew the bar like the back of his hand so watching him fluidly move around to pour drinks and make cocktails with flair was enthralling.

He hadn’t been wrong. The group of girls were three things – loud, annoying and in need of an endless supply of cocktails. The latter was great for Baekhyun but it was really infringing on your night because their endless cocktail orders were keeping him so busy that he barely had time to chat to you. He’d come down your end of the bar to refill your drink and check up on you but he had to keep excusing himself from any attempt at conversation every time a loud screechy voice called out Baekkieeeee! or bartenderrrrrr! and you were getting pretty close to snapping at them. You’d had a shitty week and you’d come to this particular bar to see the one person capable of lifting your spirits only for this pack of drunk wretches to steal him from you.

To top things off somehow, even at the dark end of the bar, sleazy guys still somehow found you and insisted on hitting on you. You weren’t exactly sure which part of woman sitting alone at the dark end of the bar drinking whiskey and scowling read Hi, I’d really love to engage in small talk and fake compliments, maybe a drink or two, then definitely I’ll have sex with you but no matter how many you sent off muttering about how much of a bitch you were more kept appearing.

“Ok now I need to know what you’re saying to all of the men who keep trudging up to the bar to order a failure beer.” Baekhyun’s amused voice sounded in front of you.

You looked up from your glass confused. “Failure beer?”

He grinned as be stood up straight and put of his salesperson voice. “A failure beer is something a person orders after they have tried to pick up and haven’t been successful. They present at the bar with a defeated look on their face while muttering bitterly about whoever just told them ‘thanks but no thanks’ in varying degrees of politeness. Now normally this results in more drinking and then either more failure beers or, in some cases, a success beer.”

“Well apparently the dark end of the bar is no longer curmudgeon central, it’s evidently the new place to try and pick up chicks. Even when they show zero interest in you.” You waved a hand disinterestedly in the direction of the small dance floor. “I simply told them no.”

Baekhyun rested his elbows on the bar as he watched you, a knowing smile on his face. “It had to be more than just no with the way they’ve been muttering.”

You smirked. “Each one gets a new version of no and when they try to ignore the first no it doesn’t end well for them.”  

“What? Does that feel good?” He chuckled. Right as you went to answer one of eight screeching harpies called out and he sighed. “Making money off them is nice but holy fuck are they annoying. I’ll be back as soon as I can be, you still have two free whiskeys before you’re at your usual limit.” He smiled and made his way back down the bar towards the increasingly drunk and flirty harpies.

You continued to watch as he brushed off their advances with ease, somehow not pissing them off and sure as hell not deterring them. Sure, you’d had a handful of guys try and hit on you over the course of the night but after you got rid of them they never came back whereas Baekhyun was entering into the third hour of resisting these women.

You couldn’t blame them for trying. He was incredibly attractive. He fell somewhere between boy next door handsome and bad boy you know you shouldn’t get involved with and that was alluring. The silver hair and eyeliner didn’t hurt either. There was no harm in ogling the bartender. You had no plans to make any advances on him and you were sure he had no interest in you like that.

***

“Since when do you have a second bartender?” you asked.

“He only started recently but he’s been doing really well on the slower nights so I figured I’d give him a Friday night to really test him out.” Baekhyun was leaning against the bar watching Jongin work. “He’ll be able to fend off the women and somehow still make a massive tip at the end of the night.”

You chuckled, words slurring slightly. “And how about you mister? Going home with one of those persistent women from earlier?”

“Fuck no. I was going to finally hear the end of your story but it seems, little miss drunky, that I’ll be putting you into a taxi instead.” He furrowed his brow. “I could have sworn I only gave you six drinks.”

“Oh you did. You’re forgetting the guys that hit on me. They arrive with drinks.” You grinned lopsidedly as you started to feel the alcohol really hit you. Mixing drinks was a stupid idea and you knew it but at the time you really hadn’t cared.

He ran his hands through his hair. “Of course. You idiot, mixing drinks. What was it? Vodka and whiskey?”

You nodded. “Yup!”

He chuckled and shook his head. “Alright you, let’s get you a taxi so I can send you home safely.”

You pouted. “But you haven’t heard the end of the story yet.”

A loud male voice projected over the noise of the bar. “There’s a massive storm about to hit, if you haven’t called a taxi yet you aren’t getting one until it passes.”  

You looked up at Baekhyun as he cursed under his breath. He disappeared to talk to Jongin and a security guard before coming back to you. “What was that about?” You asked.

“I had to organise for Jongin to keep the bar open with not let anyone in. Security will have discretion for if they let anyone in once the storm hits. You aren’t going to get a taxi in time so you have two choices.” You cocked your head to the side as he spoke. “Option one, you stay here and drink water for the rest of the night until the storm passes and you can get a taxi or, option two, you come upstairs – I live above the bar by the way – and hang out with me. You can still drink water but you’ll also be able to finish your story and you won’t have to scare any more of my patrons.”

For your drunk brain it was an incredibly simple choice, you wanted to finish telling the cute bartender about your shitty week. It didn’t even register with you that he was inviting you up to his place until you were being led up to his door. You ungracefully turned and, would have fallen if not for Baekhyun catching you in his arms, looked up at him and slurred. “No funny business ok?”

He laughed and turned you back around so that he could keep walking you to his door so he could unlock it. “Don’t worry about it. You are too drunk for me to be interested.”

So while the insane thunderstorm and flash flooding hit the city you sat comfortably on Baekhyun’s sofa semi-coherently telling him about your week. Lucky for you he was pretty fluent in drunk person speak so he managed to follow most of the conversation. He’d made sure to keep refilling your glass of water and gave you pain killers when you started to sober up.

At some point his gracious hospitality dawned on you and you had to break the comfortable silence that had settled between the two of you. “Thank you by the way. You could have just left me down in the bar but for some reason you took the surly drunk upstairs to listen to her problems. Clearly there’s something wrong with you but nevertheless, thank you.”

He smiled gently as you spoke. “You’re more than welcome. I’d like to think my ability to read people is still intact, the only reason I invited you up here was because you’re a semi-regular and I’m pretty sure you aren’t a serial killer or anything terrifying like that. You’re interesting. Most people who sit at the bar to drink their problems away have either relationship issues or money issues but you’re a different breed. It’s refreshing.” He tried to stifle a yawn as he spoke but it managed to escape. “Shit, sorry. I don’t know how much longer I’ll be able to stay up and it doesn’t sound like the storm is heading anywhere anytime soon.”

Taking the hint you stood up slowly and started to collect your things. “Don’t stay up on my behalf. I’ll just head back down to the bar and wait out the storm. Thanks again for talki-”

  He grabbed your arm, silencing you, then let it go. “Don’t read into this but, you are welcome to stay if you want. I only have one bed but I promise to keep my hands to myself if you do.”

“I can sleep on the sofa, it’s no trouble really.” Truth be told you weren’t sure if you could trust your mostly sober self to keep your hands to yourself if you were sharing a bed with him. If you found him attractive when he was working you sure as hell hadn’t been prepared for how much more appealing he was up close sprawled on his sofa.

“It’s only one night, we’ll just share the bed.” He shrugged. “Plus, rainy nights are perfect for snuggling.” He grinned as he saw your resolve crumble. How could you resist when he kept making the idea of sharing a bed so enticing?

“Fine, but if I get frisky you only have yourself to blame, plying me with free alcohol.” You giggled.

He smirked at you. “You said no funny business, don’t go tempting a man if you aren’t prepared to follow through."

You started to walk towards the hallway that would inevitably lead to his bedroom and looked over your shoulder. “Who says I can’t do both?”

[yodawgiherd]

Sharing is Caring

Rating: T

>>>Read on AO3<<<

Life is pain, time is short, you know how we roll. On a more positive note, I'm really enjoying the JeanHitch thing, aka the ship which I still have no idea how to name. Jetch!

Enjoy!

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

“Should I like, strike a pose or something?“

Petra, standing with the camera at attention, only shrugged, looking over at Jean who was tapping his chin.

“Maybe do the thing like you are about to hit the bag? That would give the photo a bit of energy.”

Following his instruction, Mikasa walked over to where the training bag was hanging, and pulled her hand back, as if preparing to punch it.

“Like this?”, she asked.

But while Jean nodded, Petra shook her head at the same time.

“No, this looks way too staged.”, she pointed out, “Why don’t you do the moment when your fist hits the bag, that will be way better, trust me.”

Holding in a tired sigh, Mikasa did as told, extending her arm until her glove covered knuckles rested against the material of the bag. This thing was honestly the most tiresome photoshoot she did up do this date. In theory, it was supposed to be easy, snap a few pictures for the viral promotion of Levi’s gym, a few shots of the interior, few of her training inside, and boom, done. But then the reality happened, and she came to realize just how important it is to have a single experienced person as a leader of, well, anything really. Why just one? Because while both Petra and Jean had the experience to be in the lead, with her being professional photographer and him having a vast history in marketing and management, they simply couldn’t agree on anything.

When Mikasa was working with Dot, over at the studio, he always had everything firmly in hand. Things happened when he said it, how he said it, and no one questioned him, ensuring the smooth progression of his work. But here, she was running around like a headless chicken, from one place to the other, while Petra and Jean endlessly argued over lighting, poses, attire, and anything that they could legitimately bicker about. Even the simple act of Mikasa changing into her workout clothes took about fifteen minutes, because Petra originally wanted her to wear something else, new, but Jean thought that she should stick with her usual routine, and the first problem was born. Finally, just as Mikasa was about to lose her mind, Petra conceded, and the real work began. Snapping pictures left and right, the photographer directed her one way, and Jean the other, Mikasa doing her best to satisfy them both, exhausting herself in the process. That’s why now, standing next to the bag, she was already silently dreading the next exchange between the two, which was bound to happen. Yet to her surprise, Jean just nodded.

“I agree, this one is great.”

Petra, who seemed about as taken aback as Mikasa was, decided not to push her luck and quickly snapped a few photos, before Jean had the chance to change his mind.

“All right, amazing as always.”, said Petra straightening, and looked over her shoulder at Jean, “You think we got enough?”

“Totally.”

“Then I guess we should move on.”, redirecting her gaze at someone, who until now leaned against the wall, casually sipping from a cup, she grinned, “Levi, would you be so kind as to come here?”

The man in question almost spat out his tea.

“What? Me?”

“Obviously.”, Petra rolled her eyes at him, “We already have something to entice the male audiences,”, she pointed at the slightly confused Mikasa, “now we need something for the female part. Now come on, we’re losing sunlight.”

Seeing no real way to get out of this situation with his dignity intact, Levi pushed himself off the wall, exchanging places with Mikasa who, stealing the cup of tea from his numb fingers, leaned against the wall herself, and took a sip, intent on enjoying the show.

“Right.”, Petra nodded, once again raising her camera, “Let’s lose that shirt and get to work.”

Levi couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“You want me to go topless?”

“Why not? It’s going to look a lot better, and the girls will love it, trust me.”, seeing that he still hasn’t made a move, she looked at him over the machine in her hands, “What’s wrong? Shy?”

“No.”

“Then what are you waiting for?”

Shooting an angry look at Mikasa, as this whole thing was her idea in the first place, Levi took off his shirt, carefully folding it over a chair. There, now he was naked from waist up.

“Happy?”, he growled at Petra.

Instead of answering, she gave him thumbs up, and snapped the first picture. The photoshoot went on, now with Levi as a victim, as Jean finally woke up and started putting in his suggestions again. About hour and half later, when they basically went through the whole gym, getting multiple snaps of the owner around the machines, they finally looked just about done, when Jean snapped his fingers, remembering something.

“We still need that cover photo.”, he told Petra, who nodded in response.

“Totally. Who do you want there?”

“Why don’t we take both?”

“Yea, I guess that would be for the best.”

Mikasa, who had such a nice time relaxing, was rudely called back, and made to stand next to her brother, while the duo of directors started figuring out how to position them both.

“Fighting?”

“No, that’s not the spirit we are looking for.”

“How about one spotting the other?”

“That could work, but it would put too much spotlight on the spotting one, no?”

“Hmm I agree, then what about…”

This went on for some time, as both Petra and Jean had a lot of ideas but could never agree with the other. Tired after the work, Levi leaned back against the ropes of the ring, sighing, and after a few seconds, Mikasa mirrored him, not sure how long will they have to stand there. But then Jean looked up, and seeing them like that, he tapped Petra’s shoulder.

“How about this?”, he asked, pointing at the duo.

“That’s…perfect! We take the photo like this, slap the logo in the middle, and voila, amazing cover!”

Levi, who until now had no idea that his gym had a logo, was just about to ask what the hell are they talking about, but before he could get the first word out Jean interrupted him.

“Mikasa, could you fetch water bottles and towels please, we need to simulate the after-workout tiredness.”

Shrugging, the raven left to get what was asked for, while Petra already had another problem in mind.

“We need more sweat.”, she noted.

Now Levi was supposed to do like what? Hundred crunches or some shit to make himself look tired for a single fucking photo. That’s a deal of the century, right there.

“I got this.”, said Mikasa’s voice from somewhere to his left, and he turned, curious to see what she was talking about.

“What…”

And was hit right in the face by a splash of cold water, drenching him.

“…the fuck?!”, finally managing to finish, he frantically swiped the water from his eyes, eyeing his approaching sister with a murderous intent.

“A bit of artificial sweat.”, she pointed out, duping a bit of the water on herself too. “With no work required. Genial, huh?”

Having really no comeback, Levi just growled, turning back towards Petra who seemed to be holding in a fair portion of giggling. She gave him a thumbs up, apparently satisfied with the “sweat” he had “worked up”, and left Jean to direct both him and Mikasa back towards their leaning against the ropes position. A snap later, they were done, and Petra thanked them for their hard work, leaving the gym with Jean in tow. Outside, she finally exploded in the burst of laughter, and after Jean made sure that they were out of Levi’s earshot, he joined in. After all, the scene of Mikasa drenching Levi out of nowhere was pretty funny, but he would never laugh anywhere where the short man could hear him. Levi was a bit too scary for that.

Inside the gym, the object of their amusement was left to stare at the water drops slowly drifting down his naked chest, while next to him stood Mikasa, who seemed to be completely content as she casually drank the rest of the bottle in a few gulps. But now that they were alone, he remembered that one more thing they had on the agenda, so turning towards his sister, he cleared his throat.

“Hey, brat.”

Her greys swung towards him.

“We need to talk.”, he continued, “Take a shower, change and come to my office.”

She nodded.

Satisfied with the amount of understanding they reached, Levi took his leave, furiously drying himself with a towel. Stupid water gets everywhere.

Half an hour later, they were both sitting in Levi’s office, showered and changed, with the older brother frowning at his sister over the table. Oblivious to his staring, she was looking down at the screen of her phone, tapping away, and judging from the smile tugging at the corners of her mouth, or the way her cheeks colored lightly as she bit her bottom lip, it wasn’t hard to guess who she was texting. Sighing, Levi decided to graciously grant her a moment to herself, using that time to look over her exterior and see how she was doing. Mikasa wasn’t wearing anything special, shorts, black stockings and shirt, combined with her signature leather jacket and combat boots. It wasn’t the parts of the outfit, but the thing as a whole that sold it, the pieces fitting together very well with her earrings, necklaces and the multiple rings on her fingers, the engagement one somehow matching into the whole set. Levi wasn’t interesting in fashion, not in the slightest, but even he could see that his sister’s sense of style was improving at a rapid pace, undoubtedly the influence of her work as a professional model. She always had that inside her, the ability to dress well, to make things match, it wasn’t the lack of fashion sense that was her problem, Mikasa simply didn’t feel like bothering with it, most of the time. But when she did, it was a sight to behold. If he was a different type of person, he would tell her that she looks really good and that he’s proud of her. But Levi was Levi, so clearing his throat instead, he began the conversation with some light ice breakers.  

“How’s your fashion work going. Good?”

“Uhm…”, pocketing her phone, Mikasa met his gaze, arching an eyebrow, “Since when do you care what I do outside the gym?”

“You’re family, of course I care.”

“Well, if you’re asking, Kiyomi picked me for the group that will do an Oriental themed collection.”

Levi snorted. Mikasa wearing a kimono? Ha, he couldn’t wait to see that.

“Doesn’t she have anyone better for that?”

“What do you mean?”

“Don’t take this the bad way, but you are, you know, half-breed. Same as me”

She didn’t seem offended by that.

“I know, but apparently I’m Japanese enough, according to Kiyomi, the Russian half doesn’t seem to bother her.”

“We do have the narrower eyes.”, Levi agreed, “I guess that you will pass.”

Mikasa shook her head, seeing right through those feeble attempts at deception.

“Thanks. And now that we are done with the heart-to-heart about our family tree, can you finally get to the point big brother? You always sucked at small talk.”

He didn’t miss the jab she took at his height with the “big” brother phrase. If she wanted to get real, time to get real then.

“Tell me, little sister,”, take that, jerk, “how long will your successful streak in martial arts keep going? What do you think?”

“Uhm…”, she frowned, “What are you implying?”

“You see, there are certain  factors that could put stops on your, hmm, growth, factors that are hard to predict but tend to happen to people.”, Levi stared at her, hoping that she will get the hint, but all he got was a blank look back.

“Women, specifically.”, he offered, sparking understanding behind Mikasa’s eyes.

“Oh, you mean pregnancy. Children.”

See, she wasn’t that stupid, if she tried.

“Exactly.”

“That’s not really a problem in my case.”, she shrugged, “Me and Eren got that thing covered.”

“Condoms?”

“Nah.”

The feeling of getting rawed was too good to miss out on.

“You on the pill?”

“Nope.”, Mikasa tapped her arm, “An implant.”

“I see….”, Levi paused for a minute, figuring out how to continue.

“But let’s say that some accident would happen, however unlikely and you would…”

Her voice stopped him.

“Please, stop with this going in circles. Just tell me what this is about.”¨

Seems like his persuasion technique still needs some work. Okay then, time to dive in.

“There’s a big tournament, The Coliseum, over at Las Vegas in a few months. A lot of entrants, freestyle, I think snatching a first place there would be a perfect crown jewel for your career.”

“And you tried persuading me by subtly implying that I’m slowly nearing my zenith?”

“More or less.”

Unable to hold back anymore, Mikasa burst out laughing.

“You’re so bad at this!”

“Ye ye, giggle all you want. But what about the thing? You want to try it?”

“When is it?”

“In a few months.”

“All right then, give me some time to think about it. That okay?”

That was most likely the most he could get out of her right now.

“Fine.”, waving his hand at her, to show that she’s dismissed, Levi grumbled, “Get out of my office.”

Standing up, Mikasa stretched, throwing him a cheeky smile.

“Love you too brother. See you tomorrow.”

And with a click of the door, she was gone from the office. Turning towards the wall, Levi looked over the collection of the trophies there, mentally imagining how the cup of the Coliseum champion would look there. Very pretty, that was for sure. Time to earn it.

It felt like years, the time that Jean spent in this particular hotel suite, although realistically it was just a few months, but now, that period was coming to an end. A bag over his shoulder, he scanned the insides of the apartment for the last time, making sure that he didn’t forget anything, and with a last nod stepped out into the corridor, closing the door. Taking the elevator down, he walked over to the reception, to take care of the formalities, handing over his room keycard.

“We hope you enjoyed your stay, sir.”, said the receptionist in a monotone voice, mind probably wandering somewhere far away.

“Yes, I think I have.”, nodding at the man, who probably haven’t even noticed it, Jean allowed himself to smile, “Keep up the good work.”

The large glass door slid open without a sound, allowing Jean to walk out of the hotel and into the parking lot, eyes scanning the vehicles for that one he was looking for. There it was, a tiny Smart, with a woman perched on the hood, large sunglasses covering about half of her face. Hitch did push those glasses out of the way when he approached, blinking in surprise on Jean’s lack of real luggage.

“Just one bag?”, she asked, as if she was expecting him to pull out another one straight out of his ass or something.

“It’s enough.”, Jean shrugged, “Not like I could fit more bags into that tiny little car of yours.”

“Hey, don’t you badmouth Freud.”

“Freud? You named that monster?”

“Of course.”, she looked downright proud of that nickname, running a loving hand over the hood, “Me and my baby here have been through a lot, he deserves a name.”

Not really in a mood to argue about car names, Jean just shook his head and squeezed himself on the shotgun seat, the only one apart from the driver’s, while Hitch took her place behind the wheel. It was nice of her to taxi him to and from the hotel, as Jean didn’t have a car himself, well, he did, but it was back home, not here. The journey to his new place of stay, Hitch’s flat, was silent, filled with some pop music and her singing along, giving him a new information about his future roommate. Hitch is a great girl, but she’s definitely no singer. Reaching their destination, they climbed a few sets of stairs, and finally, here it was. Unlocking the door and pushing them open, Hitch waltzed in, falling down on the couch and kicking off her shoes. Long day.

“What do you think about my kingdom?”, she called at Jean, who followed her at a bit of a more careful pace.

The place was small, messy, but other than that, it was definitely an upgrade from a hotel suite. All-in-all, Jean was more than satisfied.

“It’s pretty.”, he said, coming over to where she was lying, looking down at her.

“Can you tell me where the guest room is? So I can dump my stuff?”

“Guest room?”, she snorted, “There’s no guest room.”

“But… where will I stay?”

She spread her hands.

“Everywhere.”

“And sleep?”

“Isn’t that obvious? In the bed.”, she winked at him, “With me. Unless you prefer this couch.”

From his experience, Jean already knew that Hitch’s bed was comfortable enough to sleep in, all things considered. Much better than a couch.

“I think the bed is okay.”

“Great, go put your stuff in the bedroom then. But don’t touch my clothes!”, she called after him, as he was leaving to fulfill her order and settle himself in his new home.

The unpacking didn’t take Jean long, as he didn’t have much stuff to begin with, so after a few minutes he was back, sitting down next to Hitch who was flipping through the channels absent mindedly.

“So…. What do we do now?”, he asked, watching her turn towards him with a raised eyebrow.

“What, you missing something?”

“Nah, but I just feel that we should, dunno, get to know each other better, since we’ll be living together.”

“Know each other…,”, she repeated after him, thinking.

Then, as a thought apparently struck her, she turned the Tv off and grinned.

“Fine, let’s do some Q&A!”

That did sound like a good idea, as even with the fact that they were meeting regularly over the last few months, Jean honestly didn’t know much about her. But before he could start, she jumped up, moved over to the fridge, and a bit of rummaging later she was back, bottle of wine and two glasses in her hands.

“I thought that you didn’t drink.”, he pointed out, watching her pour.

“I don’t get drunk.”, she corrected him, “I do like the taste of wine, but I don’t overindulge.”

“Smart.”

“I know, right?”

Handing one glass over to Jean, she took the other, putting her feet up on the couch and motioning for him to begin.

“Let’s get started then.”

He learned a lot that evening. As the night slowly progressed, and the amount of wine in the bottle decreased, they talked, about their pasts mostly, their families, everything that came to mind. Hitch wanted to know how the hell he could just pack up and leave his state like that, coming here, and Jean told her that as long as he has his notebook and an internet connection, he can work from anywhere.

“I’ve reached the level of management where all I have to do is send out e-mails to my underlings, and things happen.”, Jean wouldn’t deny that he felt a pang of pride, laying it out like this. It did take him many years in the same company to reach this high, but now that he had it, he wouldn’t trade it for anything.

Hitch saluted him with her glass.

“Convenient.”

He tapped her glass with his own.

“Very.”

Later, when the bottle emptied, Hitch was left staring into the remnants of the wine on the bottom, strangely melancholic for a change. She wasn’t drunk, but she was a bit tipsy, and in need to talk about something serious for a change, something real.

“Say, is there something you regret in your life?”, she asked, keeping her eyes on the amber liquid.

“Something I regret?”, Jean repeated, taken aback by the turn this so far rather light-hearted conversation just suffered. And he had something, a mistake in the past, one that he didn’t usually share with anyone. But watching Hitch, seeing her circle the last drops of the drink, there was just a pull inside him, inside the heart, to just go ahead and share it, a voice that told him that she will appreciate it, that she will understand.

“There is something.”, Jean took a deep breath, and continued, “I had a friend, back in high school, very good one. His name was Marco. We did a lot of things together, you know, the classic, we were basically blood brothers at one point. But, as it usually goes, something went wrong.”

“What happened?”, Hitch whispered, eyes trained on Jean’s face.

“His little brother died.”, he shook his head, the memories stinging, even after all these years, “It broke Marco’s family apart. His parents divorced, and anytime I talked with him after the incident, it just felt like… felt like half of him was missing, you know, that Marco wasn’t really there anymore.”, face twisting into a grimace, he continued, “And I didn’t give him time to heal. I didn’t support him through these trying times. Instead, as the asshole I was, I just stopped being his friend, because he was no longer fun to be around.”

“You were a teenager…”, she whispered softly, but Jean shook his head.

“Doesn’t excuse me. I should have been there for him, have a little empathy. Instead, I never talked to him again. Hell, I don’t even know if he’s alive now!”, a bitter laugh left his mouth, “Here, you wanted to know something I regret? This is it.”

Reaching out, Hitch put a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it lightly.

“Thank you for telling me. I appreciate it.”

They fell silent for a time, with the moonlight giving the room an eerie feeling, illuminating the scenery.

“I think that now is my turn to share.”, said Hitch, making Jean look up.

“My regret doesn’t come from high school, but college. I met a guy there, Marlowe, we clicked, and before I knew it, he was my boyfriend.”

“Damn, he must have been quite a catch.”

“He was funny, great to talk to, overall an amazing person to be around. And everything was great, until one day he met some off-duty soldiers at a bar.”, now it was her turn to dig out painful memories, and she didn’t like that feeling one bit. Yet, she pushed on. “They talked, and somehow managed to push the idea that serving your country is the greatest thing in the world. Week later, and Marlowe was joining the army. We tried to keep in touch, although it wasn’t working very well, with my studies and his training, but we still didn’t break up. And then, out of nowhere, he told me that he was getting deployed, leaving the country.”, she took a shuddering breath, “I begged him not to go, to stay here, with me, but he wouldn’t listen. Said that it was his patriotic duty. That I was worrying about nothing, that he would be okay. When he left, he promised to take me out for a dinner after. And when he returned,”, clenching her teeth, Hitch forced the words out, “when he returned, it was in a body bag. A stray bullet, they said, something that shouldn’t have happened. But it did, and he’s gone. Forever.”

Now it was Jean’s turn to offer his condolences.

“That’s terrible, I’m so sorry.”

“And the thing that I regret? That I didn’t manage to convince him to stay. That I couldn’t make him listen. Because if I did, he would still be alive.”

Out of words to say, Jean just kept his hand on her arm, doing his best to offer as much of a silent support as he could.

“Do you want to talk about it?”, he asked, but Hitch shook her head, resolutely.

“I said everything that I wanted to say.”

Drying her eyes, she stood up, taking Jean’s hand and pulling him to his feet.

“I’m tired.”, she said, a certain longing in her eyes, “Let’s go to bed.”

It would seem that her way of coping with what happened was a physical one, but if it was a way to help, Jean was more than willing to go along with it. Following her to the bedroom, he wondered just how many secrets does this girl carry inside her, and if she will ever let him share the burden.

For now, all he could do was wait, and hope.