#uh lemme know how to tag this I dunno how to properly tag warnings

[nightcatssketchbook]

This looks like an Office confessional with the Lunatic Cultist

[hornsbeforehalos]

Whiskey, Sweetheart: Part 3

Pairing: Norman Reedus x OFC, Past JDM x OFC Warnings: RPF, Smut, Language, Breif Violence, Jealousy, Angst, Older man/Younger Woman.

Series Masterlist

Summary: After Jeffrey’s neglect pushed her away and into the arms of his best friend, Norman and Ky have to figure out if their new relationship can withstand not only the aftermath of the unspeakable crime they commited to keep her safe, but the backlash that comes from being co-workers with a very betrayed Jeffrey Dean Morgan.

A/n: This is the Sequel to Anytime, Sweetheart and The Conquests of Norman Reedus. You’ll probably be a bit confused if you haven’t read Conquests yet, though, or at least the Finale, but you could probably figure it out on your own if you don’t want to. But I don’t see why you wouldn’t want to, lol.

A-S Tags, (please let me know if you want to be untagged for this series.)

@elinyaes   @jml509  @jesbakescookies @daddy-kink-confirmed@aquivercactus   @xagateophobiax @sorenmarie87@missghoul18@jdmfanfiction @jeffreydeanneganstrash @through-thesilver-lining@beffyblueeyes @docharleythegeekqueen @make-things-beautiful2@srj1990  @dragongirl420  @reedusteinrambles  @youandyourstupidrope@addiction-survivor25 @fireheartart @redm81 foreveror-never@zombeeemomeee @blacklightguidesnic @jackybehappy@jodiereedus22 @journeyrose

"I just wanted to ask how Jeffrey feels about how close Norman and Kylin have gotten recently." Norman moved his sunglasses that he had had propped up on the brim of his cap back over his eyes, his arms crossing as he shook his head slightly with irritation. Jeffrey leaned forward with a chuckle, his eyes finding Norman's profile as he shook his head as well in amusement before leaning back in his chair and scrubbing his face. "Jesus fucking christ." I mumbled as my grip on Jensen's hand tightened as we watched from our place in the audience. "Tollllldddd youuuuuu." Jensen sang quietly, not moving his mouth out of the firm line it had been secured in. I closed my eyes as I awaited their response, the room almost completely silent as the crowd listened expectantly. "Doen't really matter how I feel anymore, does it, Bubbah?" Jeffrey jabbed with the amused smirk still on his lips, one elbow resting on the table to prop his head up as he peered down the table at Norman again. Norman parted his lips slightly and let his tongue run along the edge of his bottom one for a moment before leaning forward slightly, toward the microphone and popping out a quick, "Nope," before sinking back into his seat. Everyone at the table looked around questioningly, Andy being the only one dumb enough say anything, "I sense trouble in Paradise." "You could say that, yeah, Andy," Jeff snorted in response. "I’m perfectly happy," Norman said nonchalantly, shrugging for emphasis, "Got laid this morning by a hot ass chick, meetin' all these cool people," He held his hand out towards the audience, winking as he looked over at Andrew,"Got your fine ass right here. Ain't no trouble in my paradise, baby." "Next Question," Chris urged on, judging it best to move away from the tense subject. "When do you think Daryl is going to get his revenge against Negan?" Another fan asked, "After Negan gets his revenge on Daryl." Jeffrey butted in sarcastically. "I hope soon, Daryl should get to rock Negan's jaw one more good time just for funsies, I think. Take Lucille as a trophy." Norman snorted, winking down the table towards Jeff. 

"We all know how Norman likes to take things that aren't his." Jeffrey snarked, scrubbing his jaw as he sat back in his chair proud of himself. "Prolly wouldn't be taken if it was taken care of properly." Norman jutted back, unimpressed. "Good God," I breathed, rolling my eyes in my frustration of the events unfolding before me that I had no way of stopping, "This is ridiculous." The rest of the panel went pretty much the same, the other cast members answering questions in between Norman and Jeffrey playing "who's got the bigger dick." By the time the half-hour extravaganza was over, I was so mentally exhausted that all I wanted to do was go back to my hotel room and sleep. Unfortunately, though, Misha and Jensen still had their autographs and Misha had insisted that I help him announce the Gish Winner's trip during it. I was typing along on my laptop, planning the fabulous trip to Hawaii Misha had decided on and contacting the winners when the first group of annoyance came forth. "I heard that she cheated on Jeff with Norman, who does that?" "Jeff's so much hotter than Norman..." "What a whore..." "Who does that? With his best friend?" "I heard she slept with Corey Taylor, too, when she did that video with him...." I rolled my eyes at the whispering women who quickly quieted down the moment they approached Misha. Misha looked at me with sympathetic eyes as he silently signed the documents presented in front of him, not making conversation with the gossiping ninnies like he would any of the other fans. "Just ignore them, Ky." Misha called back to me after a particularly nasty group came through with their scowls and hushed insults, "If we were at one of our cons you know this shit wouldn't fly with me." "I know, Mish, it's fine. SOME PEOPLE ARE JUST ASSHOLES," I replied back, the last sentence loud enough for everyone to hear. "Calm down, Kylin, no need to yell." Jensen scolded without looking at me from his place, but I could hear the teasing in his voice. "Can I go to the greenroom?" I huffed as I looked up to Misha's back, my arms crossed and a pouty look across my face. Misha sighed, but turned around and nodded his head, leaning against the table with his hands on either side of him, "Yeah, girl, go on. Just get everything done, please." "You know I will," I winked with a smile, standing up and gathering my things before basically running behind the curtains. My ass began to vibrate as my message tone went off once I closed the door to the small room designated for Supernatural's cast and crew, the room completely empty and silent. I pulled my phone out of my pocket and flopped down on one of the comfy looking couches, my thumb scrolling my password in as I pulled my computer out with my other hand. NORMSKIE<3: You gettin as much shit as I am? ME: Probably more. Are you at ops or autos? N: Autos rn. Ops next. Where r u? ME: Greenroom, said fuck that mess. I'll be here till Mish & Jen are done with their ops. N: I'll meet u there when I'm done. ME: Mkay. Lemme know when youre otw. N: <3 ME: <3 I kicked my feet up on the couch after kicking my shoes off, my exhaustion setting in as my eyes became heavy from staring at the screen for so long. I finished up what I needed to do to book the arrangements, closed my laptop and grabbed one of the throw blankets littering the couch. It didn't take me too long to doze off. It barely felt like five minutes when suddenly my haziness started to dissipate and low voices were able to be heard. "Uh, is that Ky?" A confused-toned voice came through my drowsiness. "Yeah, man, she's been like this for an hour, she's not waking up," was replied back by the familiar voice I was pressed up against, my cheek humming with the rumble. "She okay?" "Seems like she's exhausted, she's been snoring like a fucking freight train." The vibration sounded again as my eyes opened slightly to find the light bright, urging me to close them again and nuzzle deeper into whatever hole I'd been protected in. "Who are you again?" "Sorry, man, uh, I'm Rob." "Norman," I could feel the jerks from them shaking hands, bringing a groan to my lips as my face buried itself further into Rob's tummy, "Did she fall asleep like that?" "She crawls around in her sleep, man, uh, I came in and we were practicing, she was taking up all the couch so I tried to move her, ha, she ended up like this...."Rob chuckled nervously, moving the guitar that had been blocking the light and lulling me deeper into dreamland a few minutes prior to take a peek at me, "You gonna wake up, sleepy head?" "Meehhhh" I growled in complaint, squinting my eyes. "Kylin?" Norman asked, his body tilting slightly to try to see me at a better angle, there was a small bite to his voice when he spoke again as his eyes took in what he was seeing, "You enjoy your nap?" "Shuddup. Rob's comfy." I groaned as Rob moved the guitar out of his lap and onto the floor before helping me hoist myself up into the sitting position. I could tell my hair was a mess as I attempted to run my fingers through it, looking up to Norm with a small smile. Norman, however, just kinda stared at me with his eyebrow cocked, earning him an eye roll from me. "Norman, Rob Benedict. Rob, Norman Reedus" I gestured back and forth between the two men.

"He already introduced himself, hun." Rob smiled, shaking his head as he nudged me, "I'm gonna go find Rich and see what he's doing. I'll find you later." "Mmmkay, later." I assured as he kissed my cheek before standing up, me scooting over to where he'd been sitting to gather his guitar in my lap as Norman sat down next to me. "That's your ex Rob?" Norman asked, leaning his elbows on his knees. "That's my friend, Rob, who I just so happened to have dated in the past, yes." I looked over to him as I strummed a meaningless chord, my eyebrow quirking up at his attempted accusation. "The one you slept with when you went back to L.A?" "Jesus fucking Christ," I sighed, shaking my head as I strummed again, my fingers playing delicately on the frets, "Is that gonna be a problem?" "Not unless it becomes one." He said easily, his eyebrow still cocked as he leaned back into the couch, his arm draped across the back of it, "You comin' back to Georgia with me?" I rolled my eyes and continued to play, not really paying attention to what I was doing until I felt Norman's hand on my lower back. "I didn't know you played." "Well, now you know."    "I guess there's a lot of stuff I dunno, huh?" "That's the fun part, right?" "Guess so." He chuckled, tugging me into his side as he wrapped both of his arms around me. He leaned down to kiss the top of my hair before leaning his head back against the sofa cushions with his eyes closed. "This is nice." The niceness was short lived as the door was suddenly kicked open, a shouting Rich storming through with his phone in front of his face,  followed by all the other cast members that had recently gotten their lunch break. "KYLIN! KYLIN FUCKING ACKLES! SAY HELLO TO DICK CHAT!" he screamed at me as he shoved the phone in my face, me giving him a sarcastic smile back and flipped him off, burring my face back into Norman's side. "Oh look, it's Daryl fucking Dixon!" Richard beamed as he put the phone down, holding his hand out for Norman to shake "Richard Speight, man, love your stuff." "Thanks, man." Norman rasped before wrapping his arm back around, peering down at me with a hint of curiosity in his eyes. "This is the family, Norm, That's Richard, obviously, and that's Ruth, Bri, Kim, Osric and Adam, they're all apart of the cast." I explained, pointing at each person. Everyone turned to wave 'hello' before returning to whatever they'd been doing, besides Rich, who of course squeezed himself in the couch beside me. "How have you been, lovely?" Rich cooed as he popped my thigh with his hand, his head moving to rest on my shoulder. "Dealing with shit," I huffed lightly, my own cheek moving to rest against Rich's crown, "Can't wait 'till this weekend is over, though." "Yeah, I heard," Rich started, moving his head to sit straight and turn slightly to be able to look at both me and Norman, "Some nasty shit going 'round." "People constantly got somethin' to say." Norman shook his head, bringing the hand that wasn't rested on my arm to his face to gnaw on his fingers, "Shits so fuckin' stupid." "I've been dealing with it since Jeff and I started dating, it's something that comes with the territory, I get it." I explained, sitting up slightly to rest my chin in my hand as my elbow hit my knee, "I'm not gonna let it get to me." "Wouldn't surprise me if it did," Norman mumbled, swiping his fingers across his goatee with annoyance, "Shit's a lot to deal with." "Kylin's dealt with a lot of shit over the years," Rich verified, squeezing my leg again for good measure, "Ain't no stupid fan girls gonna run her away."

"So are you gonna go back to Georgia with me?" Norman asked again as we sat on my hotel bed eating pizza and watching a movie. It was Saturday now, and he was scheduled to fly back the next morning. 

The rest of the events of the convention had been much of the same, snarky remarks between Norman and Jeff mixed with bitchy fan girls spewing hate everywhere they could. I ignored most of it, but I was still happy to be getting away from the public eye for awhile.

"You know I am." I smirked at him, bringing the slice of pizza to my lips. "You ne'er said you were." Norman mumbled back with a mouth full of food. "Why wouldn't I? I don't have anything else better to do then hang out with my sexy boyfriend." I winked sarcastically. "So that's what I am now?" Norman choked, eyebrows raising.

I could feel my face flush red at the realization of the term I'd used, my eyes widening as I held back a cough, "Uhh...."

Norman covered his mouth as he swallowed his food, a grin smirking across his face and crinkling his eyelids, "S' cute." I shook my head, my hands covering my face in embarrassment, "You know how I said a while back that I put my foot in my mouth around you?" "I figured that was just the sexual innuendos" He snorted back. "God, are you there? It's me, Kylin. Just take me down now, yeah?" I mocked, looking up to the sealing and lifting my palms. "Why are you so embarrassed? You know you're my girl." "Yeah, but we never really talked about...titles and stuff." "Well...let's talk about it." He said nonchalantly, taking another bite. I raised my eyebrows in curiosity as I waited to see if he'd continue. "So...." I mumbled after a moment of awkward silence. "I'm not really....good with having a girlfriend, Ky, I'm not gonna lie. It's not easy." "I get that." "It's been a while." "I get that, too."

"I know things are still...difficult with Jeff. I get that you loved him a lot." He gave me a shy smile as he looked up at me from his bangs. "I did. I'm not going to lie to you, it's not as easy for me as I make it out, I guess. It hurts still, ya know? And how he's been acting now....Jesus, hell, I get it if you don't wanna..." "That's not what I'm saying, hun, not at all." He shifted more to where he was cross legged in front of me, "I just don't know what you expect outta me."

I snorted, shaking my head at him as I met his eyes, "I don't expect anything from anyone, Norm. You're one of my closest friends, you're always here for me. That's all I need from you." 

Norman nodded, small smile returning as he grabbed my hands and pulled me closer to him, my face falling into his chest as he wrapped his arms around my shoulders and ran his hands down my back, "I'll do my best." "Good." I smiled. 

I had two days in Georgia with Norman before I had to unceremoniously reattach myself to Misha's hip until Christmas. During those two days though, one of which was going to have to be spent around Jeffrey at the wrap party and of course Norman and I were just thrilled. "We're only staying for dinner, after that we're going to a bar and getting trashed." Norman promised as he walked down the hallway towards the bathroom where I was doing my makeup. He had his tie about halfway tied when he made it to the door and stopped dead in his tracks, "Jesus fucking Christ."

"What?" I asked, looking at his reflection in the mirror. I could see his eyes raking up my frame from the tips of the high-heeled ankle boots I was wearing, up my tights covering my legs to the short skirt that barely reached passed my ass. His eyes visibly darkened as he let his tie fall loose around his neck, forgotten, as he approached me from behind, his hands going to my outer thighs and working their way up. "Seein' you bent over like that....mmmm" He groaned as he pressed himself against me, his terribly hard cock rutting against me through his thin dress pants. His fingers found my hips as he pressed me back over the counter, my blouse riding up my lower back as his hands splayed across my flesh, "So fuckin' hot." "Norman, we're going to be late," I whimpered breathlessly, my eyes closing as wetness pooled between my legs with his touch. "Don't fucking care." He growled as he pushed my shirt up more, exposing my tattooed back to his view that encouraged another growl from him. His fingernails raked across my Boondock Saints tattoo, the pads of his thumbs following by rubbing deep circles into the ink. He dipped his fingers into the waist of my skirt and tights, pulling them quickly down to my knees to expose me to him. "You know how fucking gorgeous you are, Whiskey?" He murmured as he took a step back to enjoy the view of me bent over for him as he unbuckled his his belt and pulled his own pants down enough to pull his aching cock out, shaking his head in disbelief, his eyes never leaving my heat as he languidly stroked himself, "God damn irresistible." His eyes met mine again in the mirror as he stepped back against me, him slicking the swollen head of his dick through my folds before pushing into me with one swift thrust, urging me further against the counter with a grunt. "Fuck," I whimpered, eyes rolling back and sealing shut as his hands gripped my hips to hold me still, the sensation from the stretch of his thickness driving me insane. "Yeah, that's it, girl..." He groaned, biting his lip as he began to pump in and out of me slowly, his focus darting between my reflection in the glass and where our bodies were causing a explicit slapping sound. "Fuck, Norman!" I cried out as he buried himself deeper in me, his fingers leaving baby bruises where they dug into my skin. "Yeah, say my name," He grunted back as he picked up his pace, the sound of our thighs echoing louder. "Normannnn!" I keened as I forced my hand between my own legs, the heel of my hand working my clit as my finger tips brushed back and forth against his balls. "Oh fuck yeah!" He panted as he wound a hand into my hair, gently tugging it to straighten my back against his chest, my fingertips circling puckered bundle of nerves as quickly as I could, "Take it, girl..." "Fuuuuuuhhhhk!" I screamed as my body convulsed against his, my orgasm washing over me in blissful waves of climax. The pulses of my walls against his throbbing cock sent him spiraling with me as her pushed me back against the counter to let himself spill onto the shiny tile floor. "Fuckin' hell." He grunted out as the last of his release dripped from him before he tucked himself back into his pants, "You're gonna kill me." "Not if you kill me first, Reedus," I laughed breathlessly, trying to regain my composure as I pulled my skirt and stockings up correctly, "Can I finish my hair now?" "You can do whatever you want, sweetheart." He chuckled, going back to tying his tie.

"Well look who finally decided to show up!" Andrew beamed as he pulled the giant wooden door open of his Georgia house, smile blistering his face as he engulfed Norman in a hug. "Sorry we're late man...got...busy." "I bet you did, cheeky bastard." Andy teased as he released Norm from his grasp, turning his attention to me and wrapping me up in his arms, "How've you been, my love?" "Getting through it." I said pleasantly, shrugging slightly as we separated. "Well you look amazing, dear, come on, lets get you two fed." he smiled sweetly, his arm still around my shoulder as he lead us into the dining room. Everyone was already there, the entire cast sitting around the large table giggling and laughing, letting out a loud "Heyyyy!" when we finally entered the room. Of course, Jeffrey didn't pay any attention to either of us, just to the brunette who's face I couldn't see linked to his arm. I ignored him anyway as we took our seats at the opposite end of the table, until Norman finally looked over to them and his eyes almost popped out of his head. "Jaxon?" My head immediately whipped around from where I'd been chatting with Lauren at the mention of the name, my eyes coming in contact finally with the woman who had herself draped across Jeffrey as he fed her small little bites of food. She looked to Norman and smiled, almost cockily, twinkling her fingers with a small wave in his direction. "You two know each other?" Andy asked unknowingly. I snorted, rushing to clamp my hand over my mouth to prevent the champagne I'd been attempting to swallow from flying across the table. Norman shot me a warning, unamused glare. "Damn, Jeff," I choked, trying to compose myself again, "Didn't think you were the one to pay for it." Everyone kind of looked around with confusion written all over their faces as Jaxon sat up more in her seat, prying her self away from Jeffrey who was shooting daggers at me with his irise as he spoke, "I paid for you, didn't I?" I snorted again at his poor attempt to jab me, "Honey, you paid me three grand to talk to me, I'm sure you're probably payin' a lot less for a lot more with that one." "Excuse me?" Jaxon sneered, her head recoiling as if she'd been punched as she scrunched her face up. "I'm sorry, did I accidentally speak your name? I didn't think so." I retorted right back. "Jesus Christ," Norman mumbled, scrubbing his lip with his finger tips as he ducked his head down, "Ky, stop." "Uhhhhhh, I am utterly confused right now," Andy said, obviously flustered as his head whipped back and forth from our end of the table to theirs. "Jeffrey thinks he's being cute, but really he's just playing himself." "Sometime it's nice to have someone who actually knows what they're doing, what can I say?" He grinned back, tongue stroking the front of his teeth smugly. It was Norman's turn to snort now as he raised his head back up, "Seriously, dude? Who were you fucking?" Everyone had stayed quiet to see how the argument was going to play out, but once Lauren had decided that it wasn't going to end smoothly, she finally spoke up, "Okay, now, guys, let's put your cocks back in your pants until at least desert. I haven't had enough to drink to deal with the 'Who's fucking who' game just yet." "I think it's time Ky and I go, we got shit to do." "Oh yeah, and what's that Bubbah?" Jeffrey sneered as he watched us stand up with Andy and make our way around the table. "Well, first, I'm going to get 'er in my truck, then possibly get those tights off of her thighs, " Norman started, dark smirk playing on his face as he teased, "Then while we're on the way to the bar so I can get her nice and toasted, my hand's gonna be up her skirt." He wrapped his arms around me after I pulled on my coat and tugged me into his side before looking back to Jeff and Jaxon, "Then, when I get her home, I'mma be buried in between her sexy ass legs for as long as I possibly can." "Shouldn't take too long." "Longer than you," I snorted back as we made our exit. "Sorry about that, guys" Andy apologized as he closed the door behind us. "Don' worry 'bout it, man, we knew he was gonna start shit." "Didn't expect him to bring your favorite prostitute to dinner, though." I giggled, covering my mouth with my hand again as Norman threw me another glare. Andrew attempted to contain his own chuckle but failed, shaking his head as he ran a hand over his beard in amusement, "You know it's just going to be rough with him. He'll get over it." "I don't have to deal with his ass 'till April now, it's her that I'm concerned about." Norman replied, looking down at me with a small hint of sympathy in his eyes. "I'll be fine, you know that." I assured. "He's still a dick." "Yup." I agreed, popping the 'p,' before giving Andy a hug goodbye and climbing into Norman's truck.

The darkness dissipated as a groan emanated through my lips, the sun brightening everything around me as it poured through the window Norman had just opened. "Wake up." Norman's gruff rasp came from somewhere near the devil light. "Where the fuck am I?" I grunted, throwing my arm over my face to shield my eyes. A chuckle came from Norman, where he stood at the edge of the bed, looking just as rough, "Who're you?" "What the fuck happened?" "You don't remember?" he barked a laugh as his eyebrows raised. "Oh lord, that's never a good sign." I whined, rolling my eyes. "You hungover?"

"Like Satan after his fucking birthday dude. Kill me" I groaned, rolling over and stuffing a pillow over my head. "There's Tylenol on the nightstand." Norman advised with a smile. "Grrrr." "You might wanna check your Instagram." "Grrrrr." "We were pretty drunk last night." He chuckled nervously. "Why don't I remember anything?" I mumbled from still under the pillow. "Absinthe may have been involved. And Rumpleminz." "Judas, why?" "I can't remember." He chuckled lightly again. "Fuuuuuuuck" I bitched as I untucked myself from the sheets, swallowing the pills and water as fast as possible before finding my phone and making my way to the bathroom. I did my business while checking my social media. I had hundreds of notifications of comments on multiple pictures Norman and I had been tagged in, all of them involving Norman's tongue being shoved down my throat or us feeding each other more liquor. "Jesus Christ." I grunted as flicked the screen off and went to brush my teeth. "So much for staying low, huh?" Norman teased as I rejoined him in his bedroom, him laying back down on the bed now looking almost just as miserable as me. I crawled into the bed and fell into his side, my head on his outstetched arm as I closed my eyes again. "People are assholes," I mumbled against his skin, nuzzling into his broad shoulder as he wrapped his arm tenderly around my waist. "Shit's prolly about to hit the fan." "You worried?" "Not really so much about me, more for you. People are....intense when it comes to me dating someone. I don't want you to deal with the bullshit of dealing with me." I snorted, rolling my eyes as I looked up at him, "I'm not concerned, Norm." He hummed in response and dug his nose into my hair, rolling over to engulf me into his arms again as we dozed back off to sleep for the next few hours. 

"Come on, get up, Whiskey." Norman chuckled, shaking me lightly. I groaned again, sleep grogging my brain still even though my hang over had dissipated immensely "Whaaat?" "Come on, let's go ridin'." "Riding what?" "Uh, my bike?" He said with a chuckle, my eyes finally open to see his pretty blue irises beaming down at me from the side of the bead, his hand was on my hip where he'd been wiggling me, and his fingertips squeezed the flesh lovingly as he leaned down to kiss me, "Come on, get up, it's pretty outside." I groaned again but did as he said, taking a quick shower before pulling on a pair of worn jeans and a long sleeve shirt with my jacket and sunglasses, piling on the bike with him before he set off towards the Georgia back roads. 

The streets curved and rolled up and down into hills along the pastures before cutting into the giant trees that of the forest. The air was crisp and cool against my face as I clung to Norman’s back, the side of my face pressed against his leather jacket as I hummed in contentment.

I thought about how much I really didn’t care what people said, even if I would have probably thought the same things from outside the situation. I felt safe, secure, and loved with Norman whenever he was near, something that I now that I was truly thinking about it, I didn’t ever really feel completely with Jeffrey. I knew he loved me, he had been there for me for so much, which was what made it even harder for me to comprehend how he acted towards me after the situation with Anthony. Maybe he just couldn’t deal with what we did, or maybe he just didn’t like seeing the monster that Anthony had forced me to become. 

Norman and I hadn’t ever spoken about what all had occurred, but I could tell that he didn’t judge me for it the way that Jeffrey did. The few times that I had talked to Jeff after the incident he had said little short things that stung me, and it fueled my resentment towards him and of course encouraged me to argue. I didn’t feel the need to defend my self or my actions with Norman, and I liked that. 

“It’s beautiful out here, isn’t it?” He called back, startling me out of my thoughts.

“Yeah, it is.” I agreed with a smile, leaning up around him to kiss the small sliver of exposed skin on the back of his neck before returning my face back to its spot against his back. 

We rode around for a few hours before he finally made our way back to the house, shedding our jackets and helmets and shoes at the door before making our way into the kitchen for lunch and drinks.

“What do you want to drink, babe?” I called out as I poured myself a glass of Cabernet that probably didn’t pair very well with the microwave pizza I was melting. 

His breath was on my neck in an instant, startling me since I didn’t know he had entered the room or walked all the way up behind me. He spun my around and pinned me against the cabinet, his eyes dark with lust as they raked over my face and neck.

“I think I need some Whiskey, Sweetheart,” He rasped before plunging his tongue into my mouth.

[concussed-to-pieces]

Green

Fandom: WWE

Pairing: Dean Ambrose/Female Reader

Rating: Holy shit M.

AN: Thirst Party Saturday heyoooo! Tagging @toxiicpop, @oraclegazes and but of course, @hardcorewwetrash! Enjoy!

[!WARNING!: Trigger warning for (light and/or clumsy) Dominant/submissive explorations, (light) bondage (scarves), and allusions to previous abuse.]

[DISCLAIMER: Hey everyone, anything involving the BDSM scene/community is something that should be properly researched and understood before even attempting to engage in it. Fanfictions do not count as research! This is entirely fabricated and as such may give wrong or misleading information, like any other work of fiction. Stay safe and check your facts!]

The first thing you noticed is that he didn’t have a bed. In fact, he didn’t seem to have much of anything. A single tote and a backpack; he was dropped off at your apartment by (you assumed) a friend of his and you watched as he shifted his weight back and forth for a few minutes. Maybe his friend is going back for his bed, you reasoned while unlocking your door. The other side of your brain was already suggesting that you offer to move the couch into his empty room.

You shook your head at yourself. Being overly willing to accommodate was what had gotten you into this mess in the first place! Having to put out an ad for a roommate on Craigslist wasn’t the worst outcome, but there were more than enough stories on the internet to justify you being cautious about vetting the potential candidates.

Dean Ambrose had been a friend of a friend, the particular friend vouching for him a little more credible than Dean’s own application, which had consisted of a rambling voicemail listing (among many other spellbinding facts) his weight and height, that he loved animals and he made, “a mean toaster strudel.”

“Ambrose? Yeah I’ve known him for ages. He’s a good guy. Bad childhood. Clean, not neat. More of an ‘organized chaos’ kind of dude, but he doesn’t have a lot to begin with so that’s probably not gonna’ be a problem. Can’t handle slamming doors, so you might wanna’ invest in bumpers or something.” Seth’s rundown had been brief and to the point, allaying some of the fears you’d had after listening to the entertaining voicemail. “I’m impressed he figured out the Internet to the extent that he could even find your ad, honestly. Probably had Ro give him a hand.”

You met with Dean a few times, to show him the apartment and have him sign paperwork. He was very quiet, but you figured once he got used to you that would wear off pretty quick. And if it didn’t, it certainly wouldn’t be the end of your world.

Now here he was, standing outside your apartment complex. He looked like he was waiting for something so you finally opened your window and leaned out. “Hey, Dean! C’mon, the door’s unlocked!”

He started, looking up and grinning when he saw you. “Sorry, m’ comin’.” He called, swapping the bin to his hip so he could open the main door to the stairwell.

He had a sleeping bag.

That was his bed.

You watched from the doorway in disbelief as Dean spread it on the floor of his new room, smoothing out the wrinkles in the worn nylon with a higher level of care than you anticipated. The bin held a few more items. A sort-of functional-appearing laptop, a towel, a toothbrush…not a lot of things. “Yeah, I kinda’ travel light.” Dean mumbled when you quizzed him on it, obviously uncomfortable. You figured it would be best to not pursue the matter, you really didn’t mean to upset him or anything like that.

The sleeping bag was ripped in a few spots, patched with duct tape. You wondered privately how long he’d had it. “Hey, if you don’t have a bed I’m sure we can find a mattress someone is getting rid-“

“Nah, did that once. Bedbugs. Infested the place. Itchy nightmare.” Dean cut you off, grimacing. “M’ savin’ up for one. If you see a bedframe though, definitely lemme’ know.”

“I’ll keep an eye out.” You promised, your own skin crawling at the notion of bugs in your bed. “Well!” You continued brightly. “I’m not going to normally do this, but I guess since it’s your first night here it’s kind of a special occasion. Would you like to have dinner with me?”

“I…uh, y-yeah, I mean if you’re offerin’ I ain’t turning you down. What’s on the menu, can I help prep somethin’?” Dean asked, looking hopeful but wary, strangely.

“I dunno’, I’ll have to see what’s in the fridge.” You gestured over your shoulder. “C’mon, let’s see what I can figure out.”

…

Ambrose stayed quiet. Seth had mentioned slamming doors but it seemed to be more like any loud bang would make him tense up. You did your best to be careful with your old washer and dryer set; the latch of the top-loader was a little finicky and required a firm hand to close.

Your primary form of communication with Dean was sticky notes left on the doors of each other’s rooms. You didn’t actually see much of the man; he mentioned having a full time job when you’d spoken about the apartment. He had crazy late hours, sometimes not coming back until two or three in the morning. When you had nothing else to do at your own job, you amused yourself by making guesses at what he might do. Lion tamer? Nah, maybe a professional wrestler. Or an assassin.

You knocked on Dean’s door one afternoon. The two of you had worked out an agreement where you would purchase the groceries and he would kick in a little extra every month. You didn’t like making a shopping list without knowing whether he needed anything, though. He hadn't left any notes for what he needed, of course, but it never hurt to double-check in case he'd forgotten something.

“Dean? You home? I’m going to go food shopping. Is there…” You paused as the door opened under your touch, like it hadn’t been closed all the way. “Dean?”

The curtains were drawn on the one window, making it somewhat dim in the room. You almost didn’t see him huddled up in the sleeping bag until he moved, making a whining sound as he did.

“Dean, I’m sorry to wake you.” You whispered, feeling like a huge jerk as you tiptoed to the side of his sleeping bag. “I’m going shopping, is there anything that you need?” He made another noise, shaking his head. You were concerned at this point, crouching down so you could see him a little better. “Hey, are you okay?” He shook his head again. “What’s wrong, can you tell me? Is there something I can do?” You asked.

Dean rolled onto his stomach, a groan accompanying the motion. “M’ not feelin’ so…good. Kinda’ got hurt and I…” He seemed to be having a difficult time drawing breath, his sentences fading in and out. “…I’ll be okay, s’jus’ harder right n…now.”

“What happened?” You queried, flinching when he grabbed your shoulder. But he was only using it for the leverage to pull himself upright. He pressed down on the small of his back with his other hand, grunting. There was a bandage there, stark white in the dim light of the room, with violent bruising around the area.

“Took a few kidney shots...hah, no big but…pissin’ blood is not a good time.” Dean gritted out. He was covered in clammy sweat, fingers slipping on your skin. “Y’ goin’ shoppin’, g…grab my wallet an’ pick me up some...tater tots? Please?”

You were still reeling from the information that he’d been in a fight. “Were you jumped or something, do we need to go to the police?” You tried to keep the panic out of your voice.

“N-Nah, just work stuff, f…un’nerestimated my opponent. You okay? Y’look a little…little upset.” Dean pointed out.

“Jesus Christ Dean this is not the way you react when you’ve been in a fight! How long have you been in here in the dark?” You scolded, confused when he started to snicker.

“Shit, I ‘unno. The look on your f…face. I’m fine, honest, promise. Jus’ hungry. I’ve gotten through worse crap than this.” Dean dismissed your worry with a haphazard wink, patting your shoulder. “I’ll tell ya’ if you get me some…some tots. Promise.”

“Who says that I even want to know?!” You sputtered.

Dean propped himself up against the wall, his expression almost smug. “Everyone wants to know. S’jus’ whether they’ll have the guts to ask.”

You shook your head, standing again. “Hell no. I…I had no idea that you did stuff like that for a living. I probably wouldn’t have let you move in here if I’d known that.”

The smugness on his face turned into fear and he caught your leg as you headed to the door. “Wait, what? M’sorry I…please wait.” He begged, sounding oddly vulnerable all of a sudden.

You knew you could easily pull away, could easily kick him out. No jury would convict you, there was no way what he was doing to bring in the rent was legal. I would have preferred lion tamer!

“I’m used to people thinkin’ that me…me gettin’ the shit knocked outta’ me is cool and tough. Please don’t go, hah, fuck.” He was somewhat upright at this point, having pushed himself further up the wall into a slouched position. “I know I…shit, I don’t really like doin’ it but the pay is good an’ I’m pretty sure…I got too many loose pieces up top for a regular job. Don’t like talkin’ about it.” Dean’s hand stayed on the small of his back so he could stand. “Too much shit. But you know, I know you know. Y’ flinch jus’ like I do sometimes.”

“That is none of your business.” You snapped.

“I ain’t sayin’ it is, okay? I’d never…never act like I know what someone else is goin’ through if…I ain’t got all the facts.” He raised his eyes to yours. “Please don’t make me leave. Promise I’ll do…better, if I get hurt I can’t f-ight and then I can’t earn.” He still had a hand on his back, only barely managing to stand. “This last one I got good money off of, s’only reason I agreed to it.”

“Do people bet on you or something?”

“Yeah, like a dog fight. But less teeth and more fists.” Dean grimaced. “I know it probably seems dumb t’ you. An’ I’m not a big fan of gettin’ pummeled. Nothin’ better than winning though.”

“Have you ever gotten seriously injured?” Your brain ran to overtime. If he couldn’t bring in his portion of the rent you’d need to find someone else fast. Your landlord wasn’t exactly a lenient guy.

Dean seemed hesitant to answer, fidgeting with the pockets on his pajama pants. “I…yeah. Once. Got my arm busted, the guy stuck it between--shit, you don’t need to hear that. Look, unless the pay is damn good and I mean damn…damn good, I turn down stuff I know I’ll get hurt in. I’ve learned. Kinda’. Please just don’t throw me out. I can be more careful, uh, find like some part time…hah, fuck’s sake that hurts. I gotta’ sit, m’sorry.” He apologized shakily, sliding back down the wall. Blue eyes half-lidded, he glanced up at you through his lashes. “I know I ain’t worth much, y’know? I ain’t good at much and I’m kinda’ worthless but I can take an asswhuppin’ and keep going.” He said lamely.

“In exchange for your rent I pick up tater tots and keep my mouth shut. Hell of a bargain.” You said wryly. “But I need to know the second you’re hurt to the point where you can’t. Um. Do your job. So I can figure out an alternative method of income.”

“Wait, are you letting me stay?” Dean sounded confused. “I thought--”

“Don’t make me reconsider this incredibly dumb choice, okay Ambrose?” You grumbled, going to dig for his wallet in his worn jeans. He caught your hand before you could grab it though, and you flinched again.

Dean’s face was earnest, his hold careful. “Thank you so much.”

“Please just…please don’t do that.” You replied softly, shaking free of his hand. “Don’t touch me, okay? I’m not into the touching without warning.”

“Got it. Sorry for touchin’, my bad.” Why was he practically whispering? You weren’t some skittish animal. Bad childhood.

“It’s okay. I know you aren’t dangerous or anything. It’s just the speed of it mostly. Don’t want to accidentally punch you if you’re not getting paid for it.” You managed to joke, making Dean snort.

“Oh yeah, real funny. So glad you find my sufferin’ amusin’.”

“I mean, if you were paid by the punches taken you could make a killing off of frustrated women.”

“I’ll ask my boss if he’s interested in implementin’ a ladies night.” Dean grinned, wincing when he chuckled. “Ow, fuck. Christ.”

…

You made a habit out of checking in on Dean after that incident, especially if you hadn’t seen him in a few days. Near as you could tell he was keeping his word, avoiding the worse fights for the ones that paid less but were more likely to not end in broken limbs. Or bloody urine, that was a little more worrisome. Normal, according to Google, but still worrisome.

He came in late one night (early in the morning, technically) with his eye blackened and the side of his face marred in a chain-link pattern. “Bad time.” He managed to say, before flopping down over the couch arm beside you. You had thought fainting was reserved more for Southern belles but here was a self-proclaimed street fighter, literally out cold with his head in your lap.

“Ambrose?” You called quietly, putting a hand on his head and cringing when you felt a sticky substance at the nape of his neck. Your fingers came away red with blood. “Dean? You can’t sleep here, do I need to bring you to the hospital?” His closeness should have made you uncomfortable. You could still barely handle a hug from Seth. “Dean you’re bleeding.”

“Yeah.” The word was muffled by your lap. He stirred, propping himself up on his arms. “Sorry, I uh…huh.” He paused, looking at you like he’d seen you for the first time. “Y’know, you got a nice face. Not just like, a pretty face. You got that too. But you got a nice face.” He said finally, his brow furrowing. “Like a good face. A gentle face. Who the fuck hurt you?”

The abrupt shift made your breath catch and he seemed to notice, standing back up and stretching his arms out over his head with a groan.

“Ah, never mind. Seth said you ain’t much on the talking when it comes to that. Didn’t mean t’ be nosy.” Dean apologized, pressing a hand to the back of his neck. “I mean if you ever feel like talking I’m uh. I’m all ears. But you don’t have to, okay? I get it. I definitely get it.”

His eyes were kind and you really couldn’t handle that right now, shoving your laptop further to the side and getting to your feet. “Come on, Ambrose. You probably can’t Band Aid the back of your neck by yourself.” The sight of blood made you more than a little queasy, but something about the idea of Dean getting bloodstains on that dumb sleeping bag wasn’t appealing.

“Even if you just get the wrappers off, I can take it from there.” Dean said in the bathroom, scrubbing at the back of his neck with a (hopefully clean) washcloth. “It’s the wrappers that end me, I always fuck ‘em up and rip the Band Aids.”

“You got it.” Relieved that your role was an outlying one, you sat down on the edge of the tub and tore the paper off a few bandages.

“Thanks for not losing your mind when I plopped down on you. I know you don’t do the touchin’.” Dean said after a few minutes of silence had gone by. “I don’t mean for…I mean, not like losin’ your mind, but more for bein’ able to handle it. Done good. How long has it been since…uh, whatever happened?”

“Around three months.” You bit your lip, handing him a Band Aid. “It was a guy living here. Knew him from high school.”

“Uh oh.” You looked up, worried, but Dean was watching you in the mirror with a resigned expression. “Can you talk about it?”

“It’s a mess.”

“That’s not what I asked. Have you talked with anyone about it?”

“Seth knows.”

“So no.”

“The last thing anyone else needs is more problems. I only told Seth because he was confused.” You shrugged. “It’s not really all that life-changing.”

Dean maintained eye contact via the mirror, wincing as he tacked Band Aids on the nape of his neck. Despite his battered appearance and almost certain exhaustion, he seemed to be waiting patiently for you to start talking.

You sighed heavily. “I’m too eager to please.”

“You got that right. Grabbin’ me tater tots n’ shit. I’m a grown ass man, make me pick up my own tots!” Dean scolded, getting you to snort.

“I mean to a fault, just way too accommodating. I’ll give the ‘rent jar incident’ as an example.”

“Rent jar…incident?”

“When I had this guy living here, I would put my portion of the rent in a jar on my dresser. Also anything I had extra, loose change, that kind of thing. And I would count it every time I put something in, write it down on a piece of paper in the jar.” Your brow furrowed. “After a while though, things stopped adding up. My numbers kept coming back messed up, stuff went missing in bigger and bigger chunks. I thought I was going nuts. Like maybe I was counting wrong, maybe I was forgetting a number when I added things. I was so used to blaming myself if something went stupid.” You realized you were twisting your hands back and forth. “And then it got to the point where I couldn’t make rent.”

“Oh.” Dean said softly.

“He said he would cover it. ‘On one condition’. What a smart person would have done is kicked him the fuck out.” You muttered angrily. “He had been stealing from me for months, but of course I didn’t figure that out until after the fact. Until after he left without saying a word, left me high and dry in this apartment. I’m so willing to dismiss bullshit, so eager to believe the best in people is all that there is. I should say, I was willing. Not so much anymore.”

“Shit, you guys had that kinda’ arrangement? No wonder y’ flinch. I take it he was a, ‘where I want it, when I want it’ kinda’ asshole?” Dean growled. You were surprised at his reaction. Seth had pitied you, had tried to hug you and stroke your hair. But you didn’t want that.

“Yeah, pretty much.” You didn’t want that at all. You wanted someone who would get furious, who would be angry about what had happened. Because it wasn’t something to feel sad and forlorn about. The guy hadn’t been worth it to begin with. You could be angry with yourself for being so dumb, for being so blinded by old friendships that you convinced yourself it wasn’t just for the rent.

And here was Dean, wringing the washcloth in his hands like he was fit to tear it apart. Like he was livid. “That ain’t fuckin’ right.” He said through gritted teeth. “I don’t care who the hell you are. It ain’t fuckin’ right to cause problems jus’ so you can come in and pretend to be a goddamn savior. That shit frosts me like a motherfucker.”

“I’m glad at least one person is upset about it. Instead of offering me a damn hug and a pat on the head.” You grumbled.

“Well I mean, I get that. Rollins probably didn’t know what the hell else to do.” Dean reasoned. “He’s kind of a baby sometimes. Did you keep tabs on this guy?”

“No. I’ve done my best to forget that he exists.” And you had, you really had. Disposing of what he left behind, cleaning his room from ceiling to floor...doing it all with this feeling that maybe if you scrubbed hard enough, you could dismiss the memories that dug into the walls. The way he would smile at you, the way he’d quietly informed you that he was your only option. “He never promised me anything and the fact that I didn’t expect him to, yet expected him to stay, kind of brands me as the idiot in this situation.” You admitted.

“Hell no, don’t say that. Look, you ain’t kicked my ass out. I’m never takin’ advantage of you like that guy did an’ I’m definitely not gonna’ stand by if someone else tries to. That’s low shit, so fuckin’ low.” Dean turned to face you, his expression serious. “I won’t let that happen again. Not to you, okay? You’ve been more than decent about me. I won’t let some shit happen to you.”

“And in exchange?” You couldn’t help asking, narrowing your eyes.

“This one’s on me, doll. Never again.”

…

Someone offering you something for nothing, even something as inconsequential as a promise of protection, was decidedly foreign. You kept waiting for the other shoe to drop, kept waiting for the instatement of requirements to return in full force.

Dean, however, remained agreeable. He may have even become more friendly. And you had to admit that sharing your apartment with him was not the worst scenario you’d been in by far.

‘Brewsday’ (or ‘Bruiseday’, depending on how rough his fight had been that night) slowly became a weekly ritual, the two of you ending up sprawled out on the couch nursing beers (as well as Dean’s wounds) and watching terrible movies every Tuesday night. Wednesdays seemed to be a shared day off, though Dean was occasionally up and out before you. You took to going food and essentials shopping on Wednesdays. It definitely wasn’t because Dean also had the day off and you enjoyed the company and help carrying the groceries back to the apartment. Definitely not.

But it was one such Wednesday that you finally had to invoke that promise he had made.

“We need cereal, six aisles that way.” You said, pointing and then looking back down at your list. You’d been saving up a little extra here and there, mostly to justify buying something a little fancier for dinner. You couldn’t pick out ingredients with Dean standing over you, though. You weren’t sure when it had turned into a surprise, but apparently dinner was officially a surprise and you didn’t want him to ruin it.

Dean nodded, taking off in the direction you’d indicated. Despite coming to the store at least once every two weeks he still had yet to master the layout of the place. Which you were hoping would work to your benefit in this instance. You hummed idly along to the pop music playing over the PA system, searching the produce area for a decent-looking head of lettuce.

A finger tapped your shoulder and you gestured down at the cart, not bothering to turn around. “In there, thanks. Can you find-”

“It’s been a while. Still as bossy as ever, I see.”

You froze. Oh no.

Behind you, that low laugh crept uneasily up your spine. “You’re also just as pretty as I remember. I like what you did with your hair.”

“Thank you.” You answered automatically, turning to face the young man who had made your life a living hell. “Now how about you stay away from me.”

“Ah, I seem to remember you singing a different tune right after I left, babe.” A hand cupped your chin and tipped your face up. “What was it you said? ‘I thought if I was good enough, you would stay’, sound familiar?” His tone was gently chiding, as though he was reprimanding a small child. You swallowed hard and he obviously felt the motion, if his slow smile was any indicator.

Dean doesn’t smile like that. Why on earth that thought came to you at that moment, you would never know. But you clung to it as your old roommate pressed closer, pinning you to the shelves behind you. Dean’s smile is quick, dimples in his cheeks. Brief, like sun through the clouds. His eyes light up and-

“Dean!” You surprised yourself and the man in front of you with your sudden yell. There was a loud crash a few aisles down, then the hasty squeak of running boots on the linoleum flooring.

Dean rounded the corner with a nondescript box of cereal in his hands, looking more than a little frantic. His eyes widened as he took in the sight in front of him. He obviously knew exactly what was going on. You wanted to sigh in relief at how quickly he picked up on the situation.

Your old roommate started laughing again and you cringed. “You’ve got to be kidding me with this, babe. You already found someone else to take my place, huh?”

“You’d need to have had a place in order for me to take it. You alright, doll?” Dean asked.

You opened your mouth to answer, but your old roommate was faster. “No no, you and I are talking right now buddy. They aren’t part of this.”

“The second you put your hands on them you made them part of this.” Dean snarled. “I ain’t brawlin’ in a damn grocery store. You have the option to walk away, buddy.”

“Near as I can tell I hold all the cards here, so-”

“You do not want to go down this road.” Dean warned. “You have no idea who the hell you’re tangling with and you’re gonna’ be in a world of hurt if you don’t let them go.”

“You don’t scare me.” Your old roommate seemed to be getting impatient, his grip tightening on your jacket.

Dean shrugged. “Your funeral.” He took your arm, pulling you closer to him. “This is startin’ to look a little suspicious, wouldn’t you say?” He asked, tilting his head up to look at one of the many cameras in the ceiling. “Tussle in the produce department might arouse a police response. You sure you want to do this?”

“I know what you’re doing, it’s not going to work.” Your ex-roommate sputtered.

“Wanna’ bet? Buddy, this is my goddamn friend, my partner right here. They gave me a roof over my head when no one else would or could. They feed me, take care of me, and they also told me about what you did. All the shitty tricks you pulled and how you left.” Dean wrapped an arm around your shoulders, all but tucking you into his side. “I told them I would make sure no shit like you would ever happen again.”

“You’re crazy!” The other man scoffed.

Dean went dead still beside you. “What the fuck did you just say.” His voice had dropped to a hoarse rasp. You got the feeling that maybe a line had been crossed.

“You are. Crazy! Certifiable, a lunatic for believing anything that they-” He didn’t get to finish as Dean lashed out, right hand catching his shoulder to haul him close in a one-armed hug and the left gripping his groin with purpose. Your old roommate made a choking noise.

“Let me make one thing real clear, buddy.” Dean hissed through his teeth. “You are one hundred percent correct there. Signed and sealed. So why the fuck would you whack the hornet’s nest? You think you can win this fight? Maybe before. What about now, with your goddamn balls in a vise?” He twisted his hand to drive his point home and the other man whimpered pitifully. “I already told you to walk away. Now, I’m gonna’ tell you to run. You have a ten-second head start if you can move. Hope I didn’t tear anything loose.” With that, Dean released him.

Your old roommate immediately dropped like Dean had been the only thing holding him up, and Dean turned on his heel to face you with a tight grin on his face. “Got the cereal, doll!” He said, widening his eyes as if to say play along! while he took your arm and led you back to the cart. “Do we need anything else?”

“S-S-Salad. We needed…salad. Was going to make something special.” Your brain was only half-onboard, all you could see was your ex-roommate laid out on the ground as easy as you please.

Simple. No mess, no fuss. It was almost disappointing in a way.

Dean insisted on carrying the bulk of the groceries home, joking, “I’m the ass, aren’t I?”. The two of you walked the short distance in silence. You didn’t mean to be so quiet, you were just thinking. Hard.

“Did I make you uncomfortable or somethin’?” Dean asked awkwardly after all the groceries were stowed and you had begun making supper. “I didn’t want to, wasn’t what I was going for.”

“It’s not you.” Your smile was weak. “It was just a shock, is all. Still trying to process it.”

He nodded, seeming satisfied. “Whatcha’ making, anyway?”

“Strawberry salad. I guess you can have some too. You were very brave.” You teased.

Dean shook his head. “Hey, I already told you. Not in exchange for anythin’. You dealt with enough shit.”

“How about in return for carrying like, ninety-five percent of the groceries home?” You offered, raising an eyebrow. “Please, have dinner with me? I mean unless you have other plans, have to head off to the Mrs. Ambrose?”

Dean made a strange sound in his throat. “Yeah?” He said finally, his voice so quiet it seemed like he was talking to himself. His whole body had gone tight again, like it had earlier when he’d been called crazy. Which had you very curious. He shook his shoulders after a minute, huffing out a quick breath and giving you a smile. “Alright. In return for the pack mule duty.”

You couldn’t help smiling back, nodding.

Later that evening while the two of you were watching television, Dean dropped an absent-minded kiss on the top of your head.

…

The Bruiseday/Brewsday started like all the others. Dean came fumbling in around eleven, his left wrist swollen and purple. You’d had a rotten day at work yourself, just opening your first bottle as Dean arrived. Wordlessly you passed him the beer and he nodded his thanks.

The two of you sat quietly at the kitchen table, drinking. The silence was companionable and you hated to break it, but...“Man, I can’t seem to do anything fucking right in that place!”  

“What happened today?” Dean grunted, shifting the bag of frozen blueberries he’d laid over his wrist.

You growled, getting to your feet so you could pace. “I always have so much that needs to be taken care of, but it’s just me doing it! I’m a one person department, I guess. I have all this work dumped on me and I know I sound like a little kid right now but it’s not fair, dammit. I’m tired of it. So tired. I wish I had a job like yours!” You said impulsively. “Where I fight somebody outright and maybe win. At least then it would be a fair fight, people would know what they were in for!”

Dean laughed, tipping his bottle towards you. “You seriously think we fight fair? Doll we are up front about the fact that we fight as dirty as possible. Half the appeal of watchin’ an’ bettin’, I suppose.” He shrugged. “When I busted my arm it wasn’t even during the fight. It was afterwards. I won, we shook hands, then he dragged my carcass to the door and slammed my forearm in it until I passed the fuck out.” Dean traced the prominent white line on his right arm. “Doc that casted me said it was a miracle I still had the feelin’ in it. And holy shit, did I have the feelin’ in it.” His grin was rueful. “I don’t think you’d wanna’ trade with me.”

“C’mon, you don’t think I could take it? I could kick the ass of every guy that ever hurt you! It would be awesome.” You flopped back down in the kitchen chair. “Awesome.” You repeated firmly.

Ambrose shook his head. “You’re somethin’ else. What if we had to fight each other?”

“A draw, obviously.” You drained your bottle and took a fresh one from the six pack. “We would be evenly matched, what with your veteran skill and my incredible ability to read your tells.”

“My tells? Now you’re talkin’ nonsense. I don’t have tells.” Dean protested. “I’m unpredictable and fuckin’ nuts or whatever.”

“You do things like focus on people’s shoulders instead of their face. You’re waiting for them to make the first move, the twitch of muscle that indicates they’re just thinking about it.” You replied smugly, watching as Dean’s eyes widened. “What do you think would happen if we fought?”

“I’d fuckin’ pin you, immobilize you with my body. I ain’t tryin’ to hurt you or anythin’.” He muttered, sounding almost sulky as he popped the cap off his next beer.

“I think you just want me under you.” You teased.

“Well yeah, no shit. I’m a fuckin’ dude, ain’t I?” Dean shot back, smirking. “Havin’ someone at your mercy is half the fun of the damn fight.” His smirk faded. “Only then though. I’m not much for…I mean I’ve thought about it, obviously, but I never did anythin’ during.”

“'During’?” You asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah, y’know, during. Sex. D-During sex.” Dean’s stammer was absolutely precious. “I know it’s a thing, I’ve seen pictures an’ stuff.”

“Not your cup of tea? Or you’ve never had anyone willing to let you try?” You were genuinely curious, putting down your beer and leaning in a little. It was incredibly rare that Dean did so much as make a dirty joke in your presence, so this was quite the turn of events. You watched him lick his lips and you suddenly realized he was nervous. “Ambrose, I promise what you tell me won’t leave this area, okay? Just interested is all.”

Now it was Dean’s turn to get to his feet. He rubbed the stubble on his chin and then sighed heavily. “I mean, there’s shit for everybody out there, right? I…it’s hard to find answers sometimes, in the mess of people.” He began cryptically. “I see stuff and I think like, ‘oh those are some cool knots’ or ‘I wonder why people like that’. But I fight in a fuckin’ underground ring, surrounded by the shit-stains of humanity bettin’ against me. What the hell in common do I have with anybody? Except the deeper ones, y’know.” He grimaced. “The guys who get off on gettin’ beat up, or beatin’ up their uh…fuck, sub, that’s the word.”

“Well that’s a little different from what you do, I think. The whole dominant or submissive thing is a consensual act, not something you have to do to earn your keep.” You could barely believe you were having this conversation, words tumbling out before you could stop them. “I mean, I’m more than willing to help if you need to figure some lighter things out. I don’t mind getting tied up.” Whoa, easy there! No need to dump your kinks on the poor guy! You scolded yourself, blushing at the startled look Ambrose leveled at you. “Sorry, I don’t mean to be creepy. My bad.” You apologized.

“Nah, no one’s ever really wanted to talk open about this stuff with me before.” He admitted, running a hand through his hair. “Kinda’ at a loss. You like…yeah? What, with rope or…?”

“Um, the scarves are better, I think. They don’t chafe. I’ve only done it a few times.” You bit your lip. “They look nicer too. I’m sure you’ve seen pictures.”

Dean simply inclined his head.

“I mean it’s pretty tame, all things considered, I know. I just like it. I’m helpless but it’s more the concept of it, I guess? The surrender of control.” You shrugged, feeling self-conscious.

“Yeah?” Dean sounded a little breathless. “And what, you just get fucked or do you get off on bein’ helpless more? Like someone usin’ you or something?”

“More like I’m being taken care of.” You corrected gently. “I am helpless, and the person in charge knows my needs better than I do. That’s the idea, anyway. If there’s proper discussion beforehand though, and if I consent to the scene, I will let my body be used for someone else’s pleasure. This one time I was tied up all pretty, like a present, and I was tit-fucked and it was just…” You trailed off, shivering at the pleasant memory.

“Tit-fucked, huh?”

“It was a little ridiculous at first, I couldn’t really move so the guy had to hold my breasts. But once we figured it out, oh wow.” You snickered. “At least that guy had a sense of humor. We had quite the laugh while he untied me.”

“I feel like that’d be an important part of any engagement.” Dean said. “D’you get off on like...being called bad or any of that shit?”

“Not so much the bad stuff. I’m...when I’m in that mindset I’ll do just about anything if you call me good, though.”

“Ah.”

You came back to reality again at his sound of acknowledgment. “Oh my gosh I'm so sorry, I definitely didn't mean to spill all of that.” You panicked a bit, concerned that you'd made him uncomfortable or at the very least that you'd said too much. “I guess it's like you said, no one really talks about this kind of thing. So I vomited all this information at you. Um. Use it well?” You finished weakly.

“I plan on it.” Dean murmured, putting the blueberries back in the freezer and rotating his wrist experimentally. “Show me.”

“What?”

“I said, show me.” He looked deadly serious. “If the offer is still on the table, of course. An' only if you trust me.”

“O-Oh.” Your voice petered out. “You want to...?”

“I like keepin' you safe. Probably isn't much different than that, y'know?”

You stood up, wiping your hands off on the skirt of your dress. “We'll see, I guess.”

“Can I kiss you? Do you do that kinda' stuff or is it strictly tie-ups for you? I need to know before I get mouthy.”

“Oh yeah, kissing is f--” You lost track of what you were saying when Dean pulled you into his arms and kissed you until your knees went weak. Teeth nipped at your lower lip and his tongue licked into your mouth as you gasped.

“Green?” He asked after he pulled back, searching your face worriedly. You stared up at him in a daze, slowly running your own tongue around your mouth to catch the taste of him better. “Doll, I need an answer or this is gonna' be over real quick.” Dean said softly. “Green, yellow or red?”

“Fuck, uh, green. Why didn't you tell me you were such a good kisser?” You asked, watching him shrug.

“No one's ever really indicated one way or another. Dunno'.” He ran a hand through his hair again. “Shit you taste good.”

“Not too bad yourself, Ambrose. Christ.” The two of you looked at each other for a tense moment before Dean grunted and took your hand.

“Alright doll, living room or your bedroom? I doubt you want to wrangle in my oh so cozy sleeping bag.”

“My room, c'mon.” You almost felt dumb, leading him, but he indicated that you should and so you did, pushing the door of your room open.

“Have you ever tied anyone else up? Or is it just you gettin' tied up?” Dean asked curiously.

“I'm not really...I worry that people wouldn't take me seriously.” You gestured at your dresser, your scarf collection out on full display. You liked to keep everything folded nicely.

“Shit, ain't you just the damn Boy Scout. Any of them easier to untie? In case I knot too tight. Still new here.” Dean reiterated, unfolding the two scarves you pointed to. “I won't do anythin' fancy, not sure I'd be able to get you outta' some monkey-fist nonsense.” His hands were steady as he carefully wound the silk around your wrists, taking the time to slip a finger between your skin and the cloth to make sure there was enough room.

“Look at you! It's like you know what you're doing.” You teased.

“Hey, I told you I did some research.” Dean took a deep breath. “ An' you're gonna' be good for me if I do this, right?”

“Yes, absolutely.” It had been so long since you'd gotten to play your role. You were incredibly glad you'd opted for your comfortable sundress, it made you feel more delicate, made it easier for you to assume your headspace. “If you take care of me, I'll be so good.”

“Oh Jesus.” Dean seemed flustered, his hands stilling for a second. “You use the green-yellow-red system, yeah? Let me know if I'm goofing something up or if you're not into it.”

“Hey, don't be scared, okay?” You smiled up at him. “You can't hurt me.”

“I dunno'. I don't want to, that's for sure.”

“You won't. You want to take care of me. I'm pretty and breakable and you're so careful with me already.”

“Fuck's sake, you are pretty. So fucking pretty. I love this.” Dean tugged at the skirt of your dress. “I love when you wear stuff like this, when we're just hangin' out on the couch and you're all relaxed up against me.”

“You should have said something! I would have worn more of my cute things if I knew they pleased you.”

“Fucking shit, what a good doll you are. Dressin' like I want you to.” Dean seemed to be more at ease just talking and rubbing his hands over your bare shoulders. “Every once in a while. It's gotta' be special. Can't be too accommodatin' of me.”

“Of course.” You agreed.

“You are just...Jesus, I can't get over you. I'd let you tie me up in a heartbeat, doll.” He confessed, pressing his forehead to your own. “You oughta' try sometime. Can I...what are you lookin' for tonight, what can I do for you? What's your need?” He continued, fingers tracing the design of your dress over your stomach. “How do I make you feel good?”

“The talking is actually really nice. I um...” You paused with a nervous giggle. You weren't used to so many questions! “Would you eat me out, if...if you're comfortable with it?”

“Oh my God.” Dean groaned and you knew you'd suggested the right thing. “Fuck, you ask so fuckin' nice. M'gonna'-” His sentence broke when you nuzzled your face into his neck, snuggling in tight to him and rolling your hips. “Good fuckin'--Jesus. Are your hands enough or should I tie you to the headboard?”

“I wouldn't mind it.”

“You've fuckin' got it.” Ambrose laid you back on the bed and you scooted up so he could secure you properly. “I dunno' whether I'll be any good at this. Pretty sure I can't deny you jack shit.”

“Hey, everyone has to start somewhere. You're doing just fine.” You encouraged.

“Shit, okay, alright.” He looked down at you impassively for a moment before stripping off his shirt. “I'll...move your little skirt up an' fuckin' tug these panties off.” Narrating was apparently a favorite, and you certainly weren't complaining as his motions matched his words. “Gotta' lay on my belly so I can fuckin'...yeah, that's right, open up those legs for me, doll.” Dean encouraged, his voice warm and rough and good. One large hand cupped your pubic mound and the other rested on your thigh, soothing the quivering skin there. “You're so wet for me already. I wonder if I could...” Dean lowered his eyes, making you squirm. “God, look at you fuckin' drip.”

“Please?” You managed to say, whimpering when he hungrily licked up the trail of slick that had been making its way down your thigh. “Please, please sir, I-”

“Sir?” Dean growled, sounding incredibly satisfied and rewarding you with a flat-tongued stroke over your pussy. “S' good shit. Hold still for me, doll.” It had been so long since someone had taken care of you this attentively. Dean was a natural, hands holding you steady as he worked you into a writhing mess with his mouth and praise. Gentle orders were issued and you followed them to the letter, eager for more, eager to be good for him.

“Can I fuck you?” He asked finally, quickly diving back in and rolling his tongue around your clit in tender little circles before you could formulate a response. “Please, may I fuck you?” His voice was almost nothing, a whisper against your skin. “Wanna' make you feel good, wanna' make you come on my cock, doll. I know we didn't discuss the fuckin' beforehand. Color?”

“Green, green, green, please-!” You begged, wiggling your body and canting your hips hungrily up towards his face.

“Oh God, I'm gonna' have to work on this.” Dean propped himself up on his arms, crawling over you until he reached your mouth. When he kissed you, you could taste yourself on his tongue. “Heya' doll. Miss me?” He grinned. “Hands okay? Nothin' numb or tinglin', right?”

You were pretty sure you weren't exactly at your sexiest, your dress pulled up and wrinkled around your waist and your skin shiny with sweat and want. But you took a second to ground yourself, mentally checking all your extremities. “M' okay, y-yeah.” You panted. “Please sir, please fuck me?”

Dean looked like a deer caught in the headlights, his whole body going still again. “You say please an' shit, beg for me so nice.” He murmured, sounding a little melancholy. “Make me feel like I'm worth it. S'dangerous.”

“You are worth it!” You protested, whining when he moved back to take off his pants. “You're being careful with me, you're making me feel good. Why wouldn't you be worth it?”

Dean just shrugged, yanking down his boxers.

“Hey, Dean.” You gentled your tone, waiting until he looked back at you. “Untie me, please?”

He seemed confused but obeyed immediately, practically lunging up the bed to struggle with his knots. They had tightened somewhat from all your squirming. “Color? Y'okay?”

“Green.” You said firmly. “I just wanted to touch you.”

“Why?”

“Because.” Dean flinched as you reached out, doing his best to mask it. Your heart ached because you knew that feeling, the wariness that was always there just under the surface. Your body thrummed with want and you felt almost like you should be crying, emotions running hot. “Shh, just me.” You soothed, giving him a smile. “Just me, Dean.”

His name seemed to snap him back into focus. Dean's kisses were needy, long and urgent with tongue and teeth clicking against your own. The whole while he mumbled praise into your mouth, whispering you're beautiful perfect too good for me in a crooning cadence that had you arching your back. “Color?” He asked finally, his cock sliding up and down on your thigh as he shifted his weight. You were pretty sure the scene was over but you figured you could talk about that afterwards.

“Green. Please. Green, yes, please.” You pleaded disjointedly, your arms slung around his neck. “Please.” His answer wasn't verbal but physical, his cock pressing to the entrance of your pussy. You rolled your hips greedily, inviting, wanting with every fiber of your existence. The first push of his cock into you made you moan, a drawn-out sound that Dean echoed.

“Christ doll, not fair, oh my fuckin' God.” He gasped, clumsily groping one of your breasts through your sundress. “It's not even fair-!”

“Dean please fuck me, I need it, I need it, please!” You didn't even care that you were begging. You knew that was what he needed, the constant affirmation of the fact that yes I want this yes I want you. Dean buried his face in the junction of your neck and shoulder, hands tight on your hips as he mercilessly fucked into you. His pelvis ground against your clit with every thrust, the stimulation white hot and yes I want you!

“You're so fuckin' tight so fuckin' pretty just wanna' fuckin' explode in you fuckin' make you take all of me, I'm not fuckin' good at this shit yet, m' sorry-” Dean rambled in your ear. “Coming, I'm coming, I can't--shit, fuck, hang on, gotta'-” He slid a hand between the two of you and you rocked up against the heel of his palm, sharp bursts that just hilted his cock in you and made him press the right spots everywhere. “Yeah that's it, that's it, you shake around me, you come on me.” Dean ordered and you obeyed, your orgasm a relief and a thrill all in one as you threw your head back and came with a cry of his name. His breath hitched, sounding almost like a sob.

Dean quickly pulled out, shoving your sundress up even higher and then coming on your stomach. He kept his head down, breathing hard.

“Sorry.” He said finally. “Not so good at this, I guess.”

“Hey, for a first timer, I think you did pretty good!” You encouraged, cupping his chin and making him look up at you. “This doesn't need to mean anything, okay? Unless you want it to. And it never needs to happen again if it makes you uncomfortable. Got it?”

“Yeah. I uh...was it good for you, at least? Because holy shit.” Dean said weakly. “Holy fucking shit.”

“Green all the way, Ambrose. Also, since you humored me tonight, any time you want me to tie you up, just say the word.” You smiled up at him and he grinned back (to your private relief.) You weren't sure whether you'd pushed too far.

“Thanks. For everythin', you know? Taking me in, and...well, just everythin'.” Dean said quietly after the two of you got cleaned up. He held you close, resting your head on his chest. His voice was soft again, like he thought you were asleep. “I've never really felt like I was worth much til' you. So thanks.” His fingers twined through your own. “I'll get better for you. I promise. S'least I can do.”