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grievedeeply · 2 years ago

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Maybe a Glenn x reader fic where they reunite after the fall of the prison? The desperate holy shit you’re alive fluff

he had to be.

pairing: glenn rhee x gn!reader

summary: you make a beeline for terminus after the fall of the prison, determined to prove your worries about your husband's fate wrong.

notes: pre-established relationship, you don't take maggie's place— she exists in this, but isn't with glenn. this is on the shorter side, but i didn't want to drag it out too much with stuff we've already seen lol

you had lost count of how long it had been since the prison fell. all you could remember was losing track of everyone around you— their terrified faces as walkers and humans alike fled into the perimeter you had fought so hard to protect. you remembered hershel, maggie's father, the smile on his lips before he died.

you hadn't slept in days. even though sasha and bob had set up tents and traps for the walkers, you would lie down, unable to fall asleep. your thoughts were plagued with glenn's fate. what happened to him? he had to be alive. you sent him on the bus.. the bus was filled with walkers, but he wasn't one of them. he escaped. he was out there somewhere, and all you had to do was find him.

"there's a high probability of glenn being dead." you remembered sasha saying one night while she thought you were asleep. you couldn't hear bob's response. all you could picture was him. his eyes, his face. he was alive somewhere. he had to be. he was strong, smart.. braver than anyone you ever knew.

the feeling of your bag slipping down your shoulder brought you out of your mind. you hastily pulled it back up, lips pressed into a thin line as you watched the treeline. you glanced over your shoulder at bob and sasha, who both looked at you with pity in their eyes. they'd given up on glenn. you wouldn't. you couldn't.

you kicked at the rocks as you walked along the train tracks. you'd finally convinced them to go to terminus. it had taken days for sasha to give into the idea, but bob had been more lenient with your wishes. all you wanted was to know if he was alive.

you paused in front of another map, telling you that you were heading in the right direction. you swallowed. he knew that if you were going anywhere, it would be there. you thought of him, rick, michonne, maggie— everyone you cared about. you had to see them again. you had to.

from your peripheral, you saw the form of a walker coming towards you. sasha pulled out her weapon, "no," you said. "i have an idea." you said, taking out your knife. with a few large strides, you were able to reach it's head. a quick motion, and it was on the ground. you let out a sigh. that would always be scary. things could go so wrong so fast.

you kneeled down next to it, plunging your knife into it's chest and cutting down into it's stomach. it was gross, but you've seen worse living through an apocalypse. you coated your hand with it, and approached the wall that led into a nearby tunnel. you hoped he would come this way. you wished you could know, but this was better than nothing.

"glenn. come to terminus. y/n."

you took a step back, looking up at your messy writing.

god, you missed him.

"come on." you spoke up after a moment, nodding your head in the direction of the tunnel. you were going to terminus. you would meet him there, anywhere. you had to.

you wrote those same words on nearly every wall for miles. you still had a ways to go to terminus, but you were determined. you wouldn't give up on him. he was brave. he was beautiful.. oh, so beautiful. inside and out.

sasha and bob continued to trail behind you. they had shared a kiss, and you could tell that they weren't too sure what to call their relationship. it reminded you of when you had first kissed glenn. it was awkward, but peaceful. he was gentle. he always had been, even in his demeanor. it was one of the many things you loved about him.

you had never lost energy, motivated by the thought of seeing him again. you found it in you to sleep. it was the only time you were able to calm your mind, and sasha had insisted on it. over the past few days, she'd opened her mind to the possibility of glenn being alive. you weren't too sure what had changed within her, but you were glad she was thinking more positively.

"hey!" you heard the sound of an unfamiliar voice in front of you, and you aimed your gun in their direction. when your eyes focused, you saw the silhouettes of three people. a woman, and two men. "what do you want?" you called back to them, the grip on your weapon tightening. you didn't want to die. you couldn't.

"are you y/n?" you heard the same voice reply. a man's. you could see his red hair even through the bright light from the sun that fell into your vision. "who's asking?" sasha replied, voice cold and calculating.

"glenn's asking." a different voice said, the other man. he sounded considerably more monotonous than the one who'd spoke before. "glenn?" your voice softened at the mention of his name, before you refocused. these people could lie. they could've seen your messages on the tracks.

you heard the woman sigh from where she sat in the driver's seat of the military grade vehicle. "are you y/n or not? you look an awful lot like the picture."

the.. picture?

"yes. yes- i'm.. i'm y/n."

"glenn's looking for you. real desperate to find you." the woman said. "he's.. my husband. is he okay? where is he?" you replied, your voice becoming more desperate for information. "he's okay, last we saw of him. he went through a tunnel filled with walkers lookin' for ya." the redhead said.

you swallowed.

"get in already. all of ya."

you didn't hesitate, and climbed into the nearest seat. when you got into the vehicle, you were able to see your new companions clearly. you sat next to the redhead, whose mustache matched his hair and, somehow, his personality. he greeted you with a friendly smile, and a firm handshake. "i'm abraham ford. our driver here is rosita espinosa, dr. eugene porter, in the passenger."

"it's great to meet you. thank you. really." you smiled back, taking his hand before glancing back at bob and sasha, who hung onto the sides of the vehicle.

rosita put it in drive, and your throat tightened.

most of the ride was completely silent on your part, only speaking when someone spoke to you first. abraham asked you a few things about glenn, telling you that he spoke very highly of you and he seemed incredibly dedicated to finding you again. your face flushed at the thought. he was always going to put other people before himself.

"we're here." rosita told you, and you opened the door and rushed towards the tunnel. your heart pounded against your chest, you lifted your flashlight and ran in— the rest of the group following closely behind you.

the familiar sound of walkers growling filled your ears and you couldn't help but to think you were too late. as you approached, your breathing became heavier.

"duck!" abraham's voice called out from the noise, and he began firing his gun soon afterwards. you followed quickly after. he had to have seen glenn. as things calmed down, rosita and sasha began to pick off the ones the gunshots missed, and you looked around at your surroundings with a heavy heart.

"y/n?"

you turned your head, and let out a sigh of relief as you rushed toward him. "oh, glenn— baby." you whispered into his ear as his arms wrapped around you. your fingers tangled into his hair as you kissed at his jawline. "i missed you so much." he said, his voice quiet enough for only you to hear.

"missed you too. so so much." you pulled away from the hug to look into his eyes. he was covered in blood, but so were you. it didn't matter. you had him. you glanced over his shoulder at the woman he'd been shielding, and you smiled over at her.

"oh," glenn laughed, "tara, this is y/n. y/n, tara. she saved my life."

without hearing another word, you stepped forwards and brought her into a hug. "thank you." you chuckled. your eyes welling up with tears. there were still good people out there. she was only proving it. she said nothing for a few moments, "you don't have to thank me."

"you helped bring him back to me. thank you."

she pursed her lips, but smiled. "you're welcome." she turned on her heel, leaving the two of you alone again.

"they.. said you had the picture."

glenn's hand reached into his pocket, and he nodded. "it's the only picture i have of you." you couldn't help but to laugh, and you took his hands in yours. "let's burn it."

"what?"

"you won't need it anymore. we won't be apart again." you told him, an unmatched confidence in your voice. you couldn't pull your eyes away from him. you lifted your hands to his face, thumbs gently running over his skin.

he smiled, gaze soft as he stared into your eyes. "yeah, okay, sweetheart."

without another word, he pulled you back into his arms, pressing his lips to the side of your head.

he wouldn't need it anymore.

tags: @spaghettto @kitkatscabinet @luna-charlie @hayleethefrog | join my taglist!

#twd x reader #glenn rhee x reader #twd #the walking dead x reader #the walking dead #glenn rhee

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come-away-with-me87 · 6 months ago

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It Takes Two Chapter 11

Chapter 10 here

Warnings: Mild smut

******

Kenzo said to you, "don't you dare lay a pretty finger on those dishes, I will clean them up later. What I want to do now is just sit down and spend more time getting to know you." You couldn't help but blush at his statement. He poured you another glass of whiskey, poured himself a glass of white wine, and you two went into his living room and sat on his couch together.

You two talked for about an hour on the couch, talking about your life goals, dreams, etc.. You had even discovered that Kenzo was once married when he was in his early 20s. "We were both young and carefree, and thought we were doing what was best at the time, but we were just both too young and immature. We're still friends to this day. She's now remarried with two kids of her own, I'm happy for her," he said with fondness in his voice. "What about you, Y/N? What's your relationship history like?" You had to think about it for a moment; it had been a very long time since you had a significant other.

"Oh gosh, I haven't been in a relationship for about four years now. I thought the last one was going to propose, but then he ended up cheating on me with his colleague, so obviously that never happened," you said with an ironic chuckle. "I don't know how anyone could ever cheat on you, Y/N," Kenzo responded sweetly, "not only are you beautiful, but you are smart, kind, and funny. Any man would be lucky to be with you." For what felt like the millionth time that week, you blushed again. "That's sweet of you to say, Kenzo, thank you."

Kenzo got up from the couch to refresh both of your drinks again, and by that third glass of whiskey, you were starting to feel it. You were beginning to feel a little frisky, if you were being honest with yourself. You found yourself slowly inching closer to Kenzo on the couch, finally putting your hand on his upper thigh. "I just thought we'd get a little more comfortable, if that's okay with you," you said while looking up at Kenzo with doe eyes. "I...I don't mind at all," he replied, looking a little flustered.

You couldn't help but smile seductively at him; yeah,the whiskey was definitely hitting you. You still had your wits about you, but you were in the mood for intimacy as it had been so long since you've had some. You leaned over to Kenzo, hand still on his thigh, and kissed him. He then deepened the kiss by pulling you closer to him, and cupping your face in his hands. You pulled away from the kiss momentarily, "we don't have to go all the way tonight, Kenzo, but I hope this is okay." He murmured in your ear, "this is more than okay," and pulled you back into a deep kiss.

You two kissed like that for several minutes, when you felt his hand travel under your blouse up to your breast to fondle it over your bra. "Please tell me to stop if any of this becomes too much," he said while temporarily pulling away from the kiss. "I will. Your touch feels good." You two went back to kissing while he continued to fondle your breast, his other hand absentmindedly rubbing back and forth on your thigh.

Suddenly, you were feeling even braver than before, you pulled away from the kiss, taking off your blouse and unhooking your bra until you were just in your jeans. You took his hands and put them on both of your breasts, where he began fondling and kneading them, gently pulling at your nipples, while kissing you again. You two remained like that for several minutes; you absolutely loved having your breasts touched and played with, and you were in heaven at that moment.

Suddenly, he pulled away from the kiss again where he also took off his shirt, showing his smooth, muscular body. He looked like a god with his blonde hair and body. He gently laid you down on your back on the couch, and he got on top of you to continue kissing you, your breasts pressed against his bare chest. In this position, you could feel how hard he was for you through his pants, and that made you feel excited. While you kissed, you rubbed your hands up and down his bare back, feeling his smooth skin. When you both pulled away from your kissing again, you moaned, "oh, Shouta..."

******

To be continued...

#aizawa shota #aizawa #shota aizawa #aizawa shota x reader #aizawa x y/n #eraserhead #bnha shouta aizawa #mha aizawa #shouta aizawa x reader #aizawa shouta #shouta aizawa #aizawa shouta x reader #aizawa shota x you #aizawa x reader #bnha aizawa #aizawa x you

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spinchs-field · 11 months ago

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Asking about your story please OwO

oh how weird i was just thinking about that! how strange, how odd! /silly

okay so this is gonna be aaaaaaaa massive ramble, probably. gonna put it under a cut just in case! you have been warned!!! please enjoy <3

so basically the story revolves around these five characters: Polly Turón, the captain; Lucille Kasmira, the quartermaster; Peter O'hare, the doctor and boatswain; Madison Torres and Addison Little, both on navigation. they're all part of a crew on the hunting ship, the God Piercer.

all five of these sailors are on that ship for their own reasons. for Polly, it's to get revenge on her old crew-- those on the Whiplash. she was the first mate of that crew before being thrown overboard in her sleep and nearly drowning. for Lucille, it's to find her lost lover-- someone who disappeared with the rest of her home town, vanishing without a trace. she intends to abandon the life she has now if and when she finds them again. for Peter... well, who's to say, really. she hardly talks anyway. for Madison, it's been his only escape from the abusive family he was raised by. never mind the fact that his family is royalty, and that his supposed death practically sent the kingdom into ruin. for Addison...? it was also her only escape. never mind the fact that she was practically bred into existence-- never mind the fact that her "freedom" had to be bought-- never mind the fact that, because she's nothing but a mindless soldier to the kingdom who birthed her, she's listed as Polly's property. she's free now. they're all free now. that's enough... right?

anyway. enough about them. they hunt literal gods.

now, a god is no ordinary hunt-- oh, no, you have to be trained in that field. god hunters, terrestrial and marine and aerial alike, are few and far between. catching a god is no easy task, even for the most skilled huntsman-- and killing one is even harder. and that, of course, is where God Hunters come in. these are the top of their class. they know what they're doing. being a marine hunter is considered one of the braver occupations in that field, since oceanic gods can get-- well, let's just say they don't fit on a boat, not in one piece, at least.

and the beauty of being a god hunter is, well, it pays a very pretty penny for just one god. the royals would practically empty out their whole fortune just to have one hung in their castle walls. gods, despite how far spread and how inconceivably high their population is, are a rarity. anyone would kill to have even a fraction of a god in their possession. the corpses go for thousands-- live ones go for millions.

and, here's the thing about the gods, right? they're smart, VERY smart. smart enough to pretend they're stupid. smart enough... to make a deal.

pacts aren't exactly... commonplace in this world, but there are countless records and reports shown off in museums and libraries of pacts made between gods and mortals. these pacts grant all sorts of powers, though they're usually divided into two categories; blessings and curses. the only real difference is that blessings have more positives than negatives, and that curses have more negatives than positives. these blessings and curses can latch onto anything, so long as the mortal's side of the deal is held up. this ranges from simple objects like a necklace, to people, to whole buildings or entire towns, or-- if you meet a powerful enough god-- an entire kingdom. curses tend to take on more... horrifying forms, as most gods have a very strong dislike for mortals, and understandably so. this ranges from twisting a person's mind to the point of insanity, or melding their bodies into something far beyond humanity, or simply causing rampant distrust, leading to violence and eventually, of course, to madness. blessings, on the other hand, prove to me much more enjoyable to experience. blessings can make more crops grow in hard times, or heal someone who is deathly ill, or-- in some very rare cases-- extend your life far beyond what it should be. both blessings and curses come with a price for the mortal(s) who signed the pact, though... of course, it's always a fair price. gods may not like mortals, but it's in their nature to keep things balanced.

um. that was mostly worldbuilding stuff! if you wanna ask about the characters themselves, please do! they're my special little guys i love them so much :3:

#the crops #funny fella #crew of the god piercer

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sad-girl-who-loves-a-thick-guy · 1 year ago

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Lines from Curtis Sittenfeld’s phenomenal novel, Romantic Comedy, that made me reflect or cry.

“Obviously, unless the emailing someone before meeting is a waste of time, but I do still wonder whether a person’s writing self is there a realist soft, they’re fake itself, or just a different self their in-the-world self?”

“ I suppose I wanted to absolve myself of responsibility for my own happiness- I could blame him for trapping me here“

“ maybe I was a sucker, or maybe he had a little too much practice, but he was so disarmingly sweet.“

“ it occurred to me that perhaps this was how grown-up conversations worked – not that your communication didn’t falter, but that you both made good faith attempts to rectify things after it hard.“

“ was there any reason I couldn’t now become a third kind of person, made more confident by experience and braver by the current reminder of how fragile and tenuous all our lives have been all along? And still his head was turned to look at me, my head was turned to look at him.”

“ really, I have been completely silenced. I have never been on the receiving end of this kind of – well, I didn’t even know what it was. Admonition? A declaration? And encomium? None of it was clearly wrong; much of it was a heart stoppingly fluttering; A small but significant portion was humiliating.“

“ he turned his head so he was gazing out the windshield again. ‘There’s a picture of the cast and crew of TNO taken every year on the main stage, right? I’m sure I’ve seen it online or in a magazine. And if I was looking at that, would I pick you out from everyone else and say, that’s the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever seen? If I’m being honest, no but human beings aren’t static images. We’re dynamic and kinetic, and she like I said before-Right away, I wanted to talk to you, and every time I talk to you since I’ve always wanted to keep talking to you’.

That I didn’t feel completely unsalted by his admission that I wasn’t the most gorgeous woman he’s ever seen meant – what? That I nursed some private hope that he thought I was? Either because he had unusual taste or because I’ve been holding onto the belief that, as with many a romantic comedy heroine, I was far more beautiful than I realized?”

“ but now I wonder if it’s a cautionary tale about how you want to stew in your aloneness.“

“ and how unique and incredible you are does make me kind of karmically or existentially terrified. Because how could anyone deserve you, let alone me?

“ this time, I really, really laughed, and he said, ‘seriously, the sound of you laughing - there’s nothing else like it’.”

“ The truth is that I still can’t believe a hot, smart, kind man loves me back.“

#romantic comedy #curtis sittenfeld #all these made me cry

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violetlunette · 2 years ago

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Right here is one of the best examples of non-toxic masculinity; The future Duke of Pordebrat from “Beware the Villainess” by Bbongdda Mask, Berry, Pureunkanna. (According to the wiki)

Despite this being made by a South Korean (I think), I’m going to use the western traits of masculinity for examples as the Duke here embodies all of them. Said traits are; strength, courage, independence, leadership, and assertiveness.

Strength: Mel is a figure who is strong, but only uses said strength to protect others. True, Mel will often engage in violence and use it to dominate others but never on those weaker and only as a last resort. Even then Mel only uses as much that’s needed for the situation and only when others are at risk.

The future Duke is aware of how much strength is in his possession and uses it mainly for protection, never to show off. (Okay, once in a while, but it's always playful.)

This is played in comparison to the men of the tale who use their strength to dominate, stalk, and bully others. (Mostly women.)

Courage: Is there anyone braver than the duke? I think not! After all, would a coward rush into a werewolf’s territory to save a friend (that they’re NOT romantically or sexually attracted to)? I think not! And yes, it’s actual courage as the future Duke is well aware of the danger and risks and tries to minimize both to keep the rest of the rescue party safe. This is in direct comparison to another character named Jack Forton, as his “courage” is recklessly rushing forward placing himself and others at risk. Sadly, these reckless actions pushed our wonderful duke too far, leading to poor Jack’s demise.

However, courage isn’t just being brave enough to go into danger, it’s standing up for what’s right despite the odds. Mel isn’t a Duke at the start and has very little power outside of physical strength (most of which comes from a magic sword). When it comes to politics Mel not only has no political power outside of a neglectful father but also a bad reputation. Yet when demons attack Mel goes to a place where only humiliation awaits just to warn them and try to get help to stop a demon attack. Considering that everyone is terrified of public speaking, this alone is an act of true bravery.

Independence: Mel is one of the few people to be able to work fine with others while keeping an independent nature. Mel isn’t someone being someone else for love or approval nor is Mel a person that feels the need to change for others.

How many times have we seen two people in love completely dependent on one another to the point where they’re barely a person? Well, even though Mel is very much in love with a gorgeous beauty, Mel is very much Mel and can stand the two feet that support the might Mel easily.

Leadership: I mean, Mel does become a duke, isn’t that proof enough? No, of course not. Mel’s proper use of strength and courage earns the admiration of others and their trust as they know full well the Duke will protect and care for them no matter what. And again, Mel is smart; never will you see our proud duke go through with a plan that will lead to anyone being unnecessarily harmed.

Assertiveness: Okay, so this is a trait that can quite easily turn toxic and has, so much so that it can be near impossible to imagine that this could be positive. However, imagine being pushed into a corner, or forced to do something you don’t want to do? Or having someone force their affections on you despite the fact you made it clear you weren’t interested. What do you do? Assert your rights. If something is unfair, stand your ground. Tell them, “Hey, you can’t make me do this, I’m a person.” Or, “I’m not obligated to love you because of your pitiable back story.”

See, it’s awful to assert yourself or will on others, however, asserting your rights is fine. And that is what our wonderful Mel does. Mel will assert their rights, nothing more.

Oh, and Mel is a woman who embodies all these traits. (Avery cute woman at that.)

Aka, THIS is how you write a strong woman with masculine traits, Hollywood.

#totally not a dig at how Hollywood is giving characters toxic masculine traits and are expecting us to like them btw #nope nope nope #btw #don't take too seriously #I wrote this on the fly wanting to have fun #But I am serious that Mel is a great example of masculine traits that aren't toxic #Beware the villainess #seriously you try to read this #it's a very fun read #the best reincarnation isekai mahwa that I've read so far

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writer-kermit · 3 years ago

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The Sweet Embrace of Death.

Pairing: Lucifer x MC - Platonic?(I don’t even know bruh :/)

Genre: Fluff

Commissioned or Self Made: Self Made

Word Count: 938

A/N: Hello everyone! I would like to address that you are able to make a request on my inbox! If you would like a commission, then feel free to DM me. This fiction was inspired by @ticklishfanart . Go check them out! They have really amazing drawings. Lucifer decides to be unusually kind to MC but really, he just wants to tickle them(99.95% he's into tickling). I hope you enjoy the writing!

Warning: Tickling and Mammon

“I’m just saying that a pretty girl is not at all different from an old creepy guy,” MC ranted, gesturing their arms in frustration. “If I see anyone approaching me that I don’t know–pretty or ugly, I’m avoiding them.” Lucifer only smiled, resting his palm on his hand to his head on the chair rest. Continuing to listen MC babbling of whatever thought came through their brain.

“Yes,” he hummed. “It is very important to keep aware of your surroundings.” “That’s what I’m saying!”

MC sighed and plopped down on the bed. Lucifer joined in as well, sitting right next to them.

“MC,” he spoke, “You’re very passionate about most things aren’t you?” MC perked their head up at the fallen angel. “Well, I guess you can say that. But I only say what I think is right.” He chuckled warmly, “ It makes you seem braver than how you view yourself, it saddens me that most people don’t talk about it.”

“Well..” MC trailed off, averting their eyes from Lucifer. “ Don’t you find it annoying that I talk a lot?” “Nonsense love.” Lucifer then wrapped his arms around MC, placing them on his lap.

“I find it very cute, just like the rest of you.”

“Cute?!” MC yelped. “Nonono! I’m not cute! I’m…I’m..!” “You’re what? Kind? Beautiful? Smart?” Lucifer leaned himself closer to MC, the lamb mewled and buried their face into his chest. “Stoop..” They whined. “This is embarrassing..”

“Ah. My apologies MC. I just find your reactions very adorable.” His clothed fingers then trailed up MC’s right side, causing them to flinch instantly.

“H-hey! What do you think you’re doing?” “Me? Oh nothing. Are you ok?” Lucifer asked, smirking devilishly as he squeezed MC waist. “Aaah! No you’re tickling me!” They squealed, trying to squirm away from the tickling avatar.

“I am? No you must be imagining now dear.” He then used both hands to tickle the poor sheep. Prodding, scribbling, and pinching every part of MC’s stomach and rib cage. “NahaHAHA! Lucihihi!” MC laughed, frantically wriggling their body to break free. But no matter how many pleas they could provide, Lucifer didn’t stop, as if he were deaf.

“Hm? Stop? But I’m not even doing anything.” he replied, nuzzling his chin against MC’s neck. “Yehehes you are! NO! DOHOHON’T DOHOHO THAHAHAHAT!”

MC was screaming at this point. Who would have ever known that Lucifer was this down bad much of a tease? His hands found their way into MC's bare stomach, kneading every piece of flesh they could obtain. “What a cute tummy you have.” He giggled, swirling his fingers gently into MC’s navel. God he’s so mean.

“AaaAAAH! YOHURHURHURE SO MEHEHEAN!” Lucifer only smiled to himself. He’s definitely enjoying this.

His lips got enacted with MC’s neck, planting soft kisses and nibbles against the collar bone of the human. MC screamed with laughter once more, trying to squirm away desperately. But only to fail as Lucifer’s hands lightly scratched their hips and thighs.

No wonder why humans would speak harshly about the devil.

“Merhehercy! MERCY!” The human gasped, pounding their fist onto the bed as a sign of defeat. And like that, the banterous tickle torture had come to an end.

“Ah yes, they always beg for mercy.” Lucifer laughed. “Shuhuhut up.”

Lucifer had released MC from his lap, MC then hugged their body close, still panting from Lucifer’s playful wrath. “Was that too much MC?” he asked, placing his hand on their shoulder. “Ah! No it’s fine Lucifer. I kind of like being tickled.” MC said blatantly. “Thanks for asking though.” Lucifer’s pride then intensified after that comment. “I see.” He said, his voice deepening. “I will take this information to my utmost advantage.” Typical Lucifer. You can’t even tell him something without him—

“AARGH!”

A loud scream and thud could be heard from Lucifer’s doorway. The two darted their eyes to the fallen culprit..Mammon?!

“Mammon!” MC squeaked, their face turning a shade of red from embarrassment. “What are you doing here?!” Mammon slowly rose from the floor, fidgeting nervously. “I..I was just checking to make sure you were safe! Because I heard you scream in this room.” He paused to look up at his older brother, Lucifer, who was now glaring at him, as if he were wanting to bash his head out. “Then–” “Then you what?” Lucifer interrupted. Causing Mammon’s blood to run cold.

“I saw you with Lucifer..”

The room was then hushed with silence. Then Lucifer sighed. “Mammon..” He spoke sternly. Getting up from bed. That was the yellow demon’s cue to escape. Fast. MC only eyed them as Lucifer chased down Mammon. This wasn’t the first time this occurred.

MC only giggled to themself as they played the mind of Lucifer calling those lovely names. How can a demon like him be so serious and yet be so kindhearted? “Typical Lucifer.” MC jokes.

#obey me #lucifer obey me #obey me fluff #tickling #obey me fic #lucifer x gender neutral reader #lucifer x mc #mammonobeyme #tickle fight

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samuel-de-champagne-problems · 3 years ago

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Blurb #9

Pairing- Spencer Reid x Female Reader

CW- none

Author’s Note- this comes from this ask by @leahblackk thanks so much for this love!! it was so much fun to write 💛 also sorry if it looks a little wonky I’m on mobile!!

Word Count— 2K (not really a blurb)

Studies show that the music we listen to at 14 years old is the most influential on our personality and development. Naturally, there’s some exceptions to this. Spencer, for one, tended to listen to classical music or the Beach Boys records his mother had around the house as a teenager. He still can’t listen to jazz without the bittersweet memories of Ethan coming back to haunt him. His music taste, in his opinion, didn’t really develop until Derek made him listen to his CDs on rides during their commute.

It wasn’t until he met his neighbor, Y/N that he learned just how impactful music can be on someone’s life. Spencer, despite Derek and Penelope’s efforts, doesn’t really enjoy modern music. There’s one expectation to that though: Y/N. Everytime she drags him over for late night dinners and movie nights, she always ends up putting a Taylor Swift album on her vintage record player. It’s like a ritual that either comforts her, hypes her up, or softens her heartbreak. Through the months that they’ve been friends, Spencer’s come to enjoy the music nights. There’s something about the way that she sings about love and life that is so familiar to Spencer. The day he realized, it hit him like a ton of bricks. Y/N makes all those magical, heartwarming, Taylor Swift songs make sense.

So everytime he goes over to her apartment, before he knocks he’ll listen for the music. It’s hard to not let his profiling instincts kick when he does this. Thanks to his eidetic memory, Spencer can recognize any of the songs with only a couple seconds of the lyrics.

On a sunny Monday, Spencer listens closely for the record player. He can hear the upbeat, dance tunes of New Romantics. Okay, he thinks. If Y/N is listening to that song, she’s probably happy. So he knocks on the door, a big smile on his face ready to listen to the happiest Taylor Swift songs with the girl he’s pining for and try not to reveal just how much he wants her to love him back.

“Spence! Come on, we’re dancing” Y/N shouts loudly above the music. Spencer doesn’t want to burst her bubble by telling her he doesn’t dance, so he takes her hand and dances his heart away.

In between the jumpy and laughter the song shifts. Y/N must be playing it from her Alexa because the next song is from a different album, Paper Rings comes on next. A song dedicated to the kind of love that probably makes the most sense to Spencer. He’d marry Y/N without any kind of ring- and that’s a terrifying thought.

“I love this song!” Y/N says, closing her eyes and dancing wildly, “You like this one too, right Spence?” she says above the loud music.

Spencer, unable to fully articulate how much he loves this song, decides to grab Y/N by the hand and twirl her around and around. She’s laughing and smiling, happy as she could be. Spencer’s thoughts shift from how beautiful she looks, to how easy this is. How simple loving her could be, but how hard telling her is.

The music slows, turning to Lover, a song that Spencer has dreamt of dancing with Y/N to on a white veiled occasion several times. This must be her happy playlist, Spencer thinks as she pull him close. They’re slow dancing and if Spencer closes his eyes and quiets his mind, he can trick himself into thinking she loves him back. Afterall she holds him like she does.

“I like this one the best,” Spencer whispers, his eyes still closed as he and Y/N sway to the beat of the song, “It’s comforting,” he explains.

“It’s a good wedding song,” Y/N says, resting her head against his shoulder, “like a first dance song,”

“It is,” Spencer says, “It’s actually in the proper beats per second to be a waltz, which is a common dance for a traditional first dance at a wedding,”

“Yeah,” Y/N says, pulling herself in closer to Spencer as she pets small circles into his soft cardigan. The spot where she touches leaves her mark; his heart has belonged to her for awhile now, but Spencer’s ready to give her whatever else she wants, “but dancing like this is also very nice,”

“Hmm,” Spencer says, not trusting himself to say anything else. The music switches again, and Spencer knows the song, probably before even Y/N. Dress comes on and Spencer really isn’t sure how he’ll get through listening to the sultry song that croons about pining after your best friend. Part of him seriously thinks he’s being stalked, because those songs perfectly encapsulate his love and his admiration for the girl next door.

“Oh, I got asked out on a date,” Y/N says, seemingly shocking Spencer out of his daydream, “at the coffee shop. His name is John, he seems nice,” she tells him, sounding a little nervous.

“That’s great, Y/N,” Spencer says, trying to put on a smile for his best friend, but fails to do so, “I’m happy for you,”

“Well it’s, you know. I think I just need to put myself out there and stop waiting around for my wild dreams to come true. Because after all your wildest dreams are just that, dreams,” she says, a little sadly.

“Call me after, Y/N, just to make sure you get home safe,” Spencer requests, he squeezes her hand, in what he hopes can be seen as a friendly gesture, despite him not wanting to let go.

“Of course, Mr. FBI,” Y/N teases, “Alexa, shut up! Hey, Spence, you want to order pizza. It’s been like a week since I watch Long Pond and I’ve got that itch that only listening to This Is Me Trying while stuffing my face with pizza and white wine can fix,”

“Sure, Y/N,” Spencer says, smiling through his heartbreak. He tries to not let Y/N see the tears that prickle in the corners of his eyes when the 1 comes on. It would have been fun, if he could have been Y/N’s “1”. Even in heartbreak, Taylor Swift can capture exactly what Spencer feels.

He almost didn’t bother checking by her apartment because he knew it’s her date with Jake or John, or whatever his name was. Spencer’s not a man to get jealous, he knows that Y/N doesn’t owe him her love just because he loves her. He knows that, but that doesn’t lessen the hurt of her falling for someone other than him.

As he walks by, Spencer’s ears catch the music coming from her apartment. He hears the unrecognizable twangy strum of the guitar and knows it’s going to be back news. Without thinking, Spencer rumages into his pocket, looking for his spare key to Y/N’s apartment. He unlocks the door and is greeted by Y/N’s cat, August, meowing at the door.

“Where’s our girl?” Spencer says, picking up the cat as he slips off his shoes, “hey, Y/N. It’s Spencer. I heard the music and I just thought I’d check in. I thought you were going out on your date?” he asks, finding Y/N curled up on the couch, with piles of tissues littered around her.

“Please, Spence. I’m a mess. I don’t want anyone to see me like this, especially you,” Y/N tells him, mopping her eyes up and petting her lap for August to jump up.

“Hey, hey, honey. You don’t have to worry about being a mess in front of me, I already think you’re amazing,” Spencer says, softly. He tries to gracefully avoid the spoiled tissues, he might be in love with Y/N, but he’s not in love with her used tissues.

“He-he stood me up,” Y/N stutters as a new wave of tears floods her face. Spencer leans over, shutting Alexa off. The sorrow, regretful tunes of Dear John turn off, leaving Spencer with the thought that it probably was an appropriate song to choose.

“I don’t even know why I try any more, Spence” she says, leaning into his body as he puts a comforting and protective arm around her upper half, “it’s useless. I’m doomed to be alone,”

“That’s not true, Y/N,” Spencer says, mumbling into her hair, “not at all. You’re amazing. You’re kind and so smart. You’re beautiful and you have great taste in music. Anybody would be lucky to date you,” he finishes, forgetting himself for a second as he kisses her hair. She smells like green apples and ivory soap.

“You’re just saying that because you’re my friend,” Y/N says. The emphasis on ‘friend’ giving Spencer a little hope at what she is subtly implying.

“What-what if I wasn’t? What if I wasn’t saying this as just a friend?” Spencer asks, daring to be bold and brave for once in his life. He couldn’t be bold and brave for Y/N, then who is he?

She must be thinking, because Y/N doesn’t say anything. Spencer’s mind instantly switches into full gear, thinking of how he’d get out of here all while sparing his feelings.

“Please don’t say those things, Spencer. Don’t say those things unless you mean it,” Y/N tells him, her voice sounding cold and far off, like she’s trying to put some distance between themselves to protect herself. Spencer’s mind ventures to take it as a good thing, when she doesn’t physically distance herself. She decides to stay with Spencer’s arms wrapped around her upper half and his hands drawing shapes on her back.

“I mean it, Y/N. I really do mean it,” Spencer says, sounding terrified, but feeling braver than ever. “I’d never lie to you about how you make me feel. Not anymore at least,” he explains, waiting for Y/N to respond.

“Can I show you something?” Y/N ask, her voicing sounding an awfully lot like Spencer’s with the mix of fear and tension and love fighting for dominance.

“Of course,” Spencer says, nodding into her hair and letting her go.

He watches and waits as she grabs her phone from the coffee table. Y/N launches her music app, but covers her phone so Spencer can’t see which playlist she’s choosing. Y/N has very curated Taylor Swift playlists kko that help her to either middle through her dark days or celebrate her happy ones.

The music starts and just within the first few notes Spencer can tell which song is playing. “Gold Rush,” he asks, of course getting it correct and making Y/N smile.

“I knew I kept you around for a reason,” Y/N says, scooting in closer to Spencer so his chin rests over her head. “I don’t think you’ve heard this playlist yet,” she says, handing him her phone.

Spencer looks at the phone, reading the playlist title Songs That Remind Me of Spencer, but ends up having to do a double take.

“This song always reminded me of you, Spence. I think it just captures how beautiful you are and how scared I am that you’ll find someone that will make you feel that way. Someone that’s more beautiful and better for you—“

Spencer can’t hear it anymore so he does something that was only a figment of his imagination: he kisses Y/N. He holds her head in his hands, brushing gently on her temples. It’s wonderful and magical, and Spencer thinks that he could kiss her for his whole life. He wants to know what makes her whimper and whine or make her flush. He wants to know everything about her because he is her 1, just as she is his.

“You made a playlist for me?” Spencer says, breaking away from Y/N’s lips to kiss her face. All over her forehead, her cheeks and eyes. He kisses her like he can’t get enough and is only encouraged by Y/N giggles for approval.

“Of course I did, Spence. You’re just everything to me and I couldn’t quite say it myself. So I left it up to the best songwriter I know,”

“I’ll make you one, today. Tomorrow, everyday,” Spencer says, kissing Y/N’s hands and wrists, “I just want to make you happy and know how loved you are. Because I love you, Y/N” Spencer says

“Spence,” Y/N says, not quite able to articulate how much she loves him, kisses his forehead, “I love you. God. I love you so much. And I may or may not have re-written Hey Stephen as Hey Spencer,”

#spencer reid #spencer reid blurbs #Spencer Reid x reader

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missymurphy1985 · 3 years ago

Text

The Umbrella Girl (part 5)

Your first date with Cillian, and the aftermath...

Taglist @queenshelby @margoo0 @being-worthy @peakyscillian @ntmynouis @janelongxox @elenavampire21 @noctvrnalmoth

Warnings - language, and there's smut in this one 😉

You felt your pulse start to race. The nerves flowing through you like a river. You hadn't been on a date for more than 6 years. Steph had come over to help you get ready and calm your nerves.

"So where's he taking you?" Steph asked as she straightened the back of your hair. You sat at your mum's dressing table with a glass of wine.

"He wouldn't tell me, just said to wear something comfortable and be ready for 6:30," you smiled taking a sip of wine.

"And his revelation?" Steph raised an eyebrow at you in the mirror. You'd told her about it the next day, Steph was your sister and you trusted her with your life.

"It wasn't his fault, anyone in their right mind would know that. I plan on talking to him properly tonight, he needs to decide what he's going to do. Hiding from it will just make it worse." You remembered how upset he'd been and felt your eyes watering again.

"Don't you dare, that mascara isn't waterproof!" Steph pointed the straighteners at you, making you laugh. "You're right though. He's the sweetest guy on set. I knew you two would hit it off." Your turn to raise an eyebrow now.

"You planned this, didn't you?"

"Maybe. Worked though, didn't it?" She smirked. Your sister was devious, not that you minded. The doorbell suddenly rang, making you jump.

"Shit.. he's here!" Steph ran down the stairs to let him in, you heard her say to wait in the lounge while you finished putting your makeup on. Steph came back into the room with a lipstick.

"Y/n... He looks amazing.. and he has a purple shirt on. You NEED this lipstick." She handed it to you, a beautiful shade of pale mauve. Perfect.

Once you were ready, you made your way downstairs. Your flowing black summer dress now accentuated with a pale purple necklace and matching earrings (loaned from Steph) and a black handbag and heels. Your feet were already aching from the heels - you never wore them - but you'd manage. There would likely be a restaurant involved at some point, you be seated for the most part.

Cillian was waiting in the living room in his purple shirt, smart dark blue jeans and boots, Emily sat next to him on the sofa, your mum watching them play I-Spy from the armchair. He glanced at you, and back at Emily.

"I spy with my little eye.... Something beautiful." He said, and Emily looked around the room and saw you, her mouth dropping. She'd never seen you like this.

"Mommy!!!" She ran over to you and wrapped her arms round your waist.

"Well I was going to say you Emily, but I guess your mama looks okay," he smiled, standing up to kiss your cheek softly. You batted his arm playfully, before picking your girl up to hug her tight.

"You be a good girl for Aunty Steph, okay?" Emily smiled and nodded. You turned to Steph and hugged her. "Thank you..."

Steph took Emily from you and smiled. "I've got snacks, movies, games, and.... I may have bought pancakes and waffles for breakfast..." Emily squealed with delight - sleepovers with Aunty Steph ALWAYS meant pancakes for breakfast! Your mum stood up in her nurses uniform and grabbed her bag. Normally she would have had Emily for you but she had a night shift tonight, hence Emily going to Steph's. It was easier for her to sleep there tonight rather than disturb her later.

"Have a great time y/n, and be careful, okay?" She kissed your cheek and squeezed Cillian's arm warmly. He nodded, and promised her you'd have a good night and he'd get you home safe. Your mum smiled and headed out the door to drive to work. Steph followed, with Emily and her overnight bag, leaving you and Cillian alone. He pulled you close and kissed your lips.

"Where are you taking me then Mr Murphy?"

"It's a surprise, but you need new shoes. Those heels look like agony!" He laughed. You agreed, and changed to a smaller, more comfortable pair.

Sitting in his car later that night, you smiled at the view. You'd been to the coast plenty of times before with Emily, but never at night. It looked so peaceful and tranquil. You had spent the evening in a small Italian restaurant in town, sharing a pizza and a bottle of wine. Cillian only had one as he was driving, but you were happy to finish the rest - although you were slightly slightly tipsy leaving the restaurant, you'd sobered up a little now.

"We need to talk about this Cillian, you can't avoid it forever." The alcohol making you feel braver, as you broached the subject he'd been so desperate to avoid all evening. He took your hand across the centre console.

"I've been thinking about it non stop since that talk in Sophie's trailer. I can't allow her to control me and my life - I'm sick of walking on eggshells. Afraid to move forward. I need to just get on with it, I'll just have to deal with the consequences won't I.." his voice trailed off and you squeezed his hand.

"I'm here too? You're not dealing with it on your own." He looked over at you and smiled, leaning in to kiss your lips softly. It soon intensified, both of you leaning into each other somewhat awkwardly over the gear stick and centre console trying to get to the other. You pulled away and looked into his eyes.

"I thought we were taking it slowly... If you keep kissing me like that I'm gonna break my promise..." He whispered, and turned on the ignition. You sat back in your seat, feeling the heat burning in your core. There was no way you were taking it slow, you needed him and soon.

15 minutes later you were outside your house on the doorstep, tongues down each others throats while his hands roamed over your back and down your legs. You fumbled in your bag for your keys, opening the door and crashing inside, bodies pressed together in the hallway. You pushed him back to catch your breath, before checking your watch.

"My mom won't be home for at least 3 hours..."

"You're seriously overestimating my stamina here y/n..." You giggled and led him upstairs to your room, thanking your earlier self for tidying it the day before. Your bodies fell together again when you closed the door, he lifted you off the floor and wrapped your legs round his waist, pressing you against the wall.

"I want you..." You almost growled in his ear as his erection pressed against your heat. He led you over to the bed, pulling your dress over your head and his shirt over his, trailing kisses down your neck and over your breasts. He lay you down, unclipping your bra as his mouth took one of your breasts, circling your nipple with his tongue. Your head pushed back against the mattress, hands gripping his hair as you pushed your hips up to meet him.

"Steady now.. I'll get there, don't worry..." And get there he did. Slowly moving his mouth lower, before peeling your panties down your legs, his lips brushing over your core lightly, teasing you.

"Cillian... Please...." He chuckled lightly before opening your legs as wide as they could. No one had ever done this to you before, you were both nervous and excited. In fact, no one else had actually given you an orgasm - you'd only been with one man, Emily's father, and he wasn't exactly hot on the foreplay side of things. Your thoughts were broken by Cillian's tongue suddenly on your clit, and you had to bite your tongue to stop yourself crying out his name. Your hips were grinding against his face now, mouth open as he took you to new levels of pleasure.

"Oh my god..." Your core was on fire as he pushed a finger inside slowly, followed by a second. Hooking them forwards, you felt an unfamiliar but incredible surge of heat. "Don't you dare stop...."

"Keep making those noises... Fuck... you taste and feel incredible..." he was back on you, sucking and licking harder now, his fingers pounding deep. Your orgasm built quickly, and you came hard - your back arched against the bed panting his name over and over. Once you'd calmed, his body was over you, your hands reaching down, pulling his jeans and boxer shorts down over his hips.

"Are you -"

"I've had the coil for three years, I was checked after my ex walked out.. you -"

"Checks done after the witch.. no one since.. ah shit...." he groaned, pushing into you agonisingly slow, filling you completely. You both stayed still for a while, just enjoying the feeling of being connected.

"I need you... Fuck me Cillian, please..." his hips moved, in and out before increasing the pace and the pressure. You could feel wetness leaking from you as he thrusted into you. You raised your hips to meet each thrust, sending you both closer to the edge.

"This isn't gonna be my best performance y/n... You're too beautiful... Feels too good..."

"If you think you're done after this you have a screw loose Murphy..." His thrusts were almost primal, your nails scraping over his back - Steph was going to have a hard time covering those in makeup on Monday..

"I'm gonna come y/n..."

It hit you like a steam train - you suddenly came hard with him, and felt his breathing labour as he spilled into you, his cum covering your walls.

"Jesus y/n.. you okay?" He was still inside you, kissing your neck softly.

"I'm amazing.. never better... Don't move.." you wrapped your legs round his waist keeping him inside as long as possible. He laughed, and rested his forehead on yours.

"You meant what you said?"

"About what?"

"I'm not done am I?"

"Fuck no. I haven't had sex in 6 years Murphy, buckle up." He chuckled and you could feel him harden inside you again as you clenched your muscles around him. His lips were on yours quickly, this was going to be a long night.

The following morning you woke from the deepest sleep you'd had in years. Cillian's body was gone though, which confused you. You stretched and climbed out of bed, you could smell breakfast being cooked which was odd. You looked at your watch, 8am, your mum would still be in bed...

Walking into the kitchen you found him knocking up bacon, eggs and sausages. A coffee cup on the counter waiting for you.

"What are you doing up? I was planning on bringing this up to you?" He felt your hands wrap around his waist as you kissed his back through his t shirt.

"What are YOU doing?"

"I went to the corner shop an hour ago - thought the least I can do is cook breakfast. Might stop your mam from killing me when she finds out I'm here?"

"You're something else, you know that?" His phone rang before you could kiss his lips. He frowned, answering it. He handed you the cooking utensils and walked into the living room to take the call. A few minutes later he walked back in, a worried look in his eyes.

"You're on Facebook, right? Can you have a look on there please?" You opened the app on your phone and gasped. There was a photo of the two of you all over facebook - you were leaving the restaurant hand in hand, another of the two of you kissing, another of his hand on your backside after a cheeky pinch when he opened the car door for you, someone must have spotted you and followed you back to your house - the final photo being of the two of you all over each other on your front doorstep. You couldn't help but laugh a little.

"Well... This kisses goodbye to 'taking it slow' doesn't it?" You smiled.

"We kissed goodbye to that last night y/n... I'm so sorry..."

"Why? I knew what I was getting into?"

"Because Lisa is gonna see this, and it's about to get ugly, that's why."

"Bring it on Murphy. Remember, we're in this together." You linked your fingers with his and kissed him. Ready to face it, side by side.

How bad could it be, really?

#cillian x smut #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy #cillian Murphy x smut #cillian x fem!reader

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sylverstorms · 4 years ago

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Cassandra Dimitrescu x Maiden ----Valiant

The tavern is lively in the evening.

A fact you are endlessly grateful for. It provides an imperfect little sanctuary to drown out the mad howling from the outside.

The shrill sound is nothing new, nor out of the ordinary for you; it has been with you your entire life. Ever since you were a child, you remember the fear it instilled and the nights it kept you awake, shivering in terror underneath the covers of your bed. You remember the stories your mother told you about the monsters lurking in the darkness of the forest… even more so now that her warnings and tales are all you have of her.

Perhaps that subconscious terror is the very reason which had you seeking work at the inn.

You could do literally anything else in the village than tolerate the half-mad grouch that is the owner –he never even pays on time— yet you are still here. Possibly to escape the cold walls of your empty house at night. Possibly to avoid being alone with the howls and the padding right out your door. You don’t know how the other villagers do it. They’re either braver, denser or crazier than you give them credit for.

As for yourself, you know for a fact you are not as strong as other people think you are. Maybe it is your sturdy build that tricks them, or the killer glare you’ve perfected over the years of putting up with the town’s shit. Whatever the case, you are in no hurry to debunk the lie, even while you recognize it for what it is.

A distant howl threatens to crack the cocoon of safety you’ve convinced yourself you’re tucked into, so you focus on the drunken chatter and the bard’s soft music a tad harder. It’s just the wind. Just the wind out there. Your knuckles are white around the bear glass you’re in the process of cleaning.

And then something strange catches your eye.

At a shadowed, quiet corner of the tavern, a shopkeeper is speaking to a hooded woman. The scene would not be anything out of the ordinary… only, you know just about every individual in this damned village –it comes with the job— yet you do not recognize her.

And you’d remember that tight, lithe figure, that is for certain.

There aren’t many girls in the village who can make plain black robes look like an article right out of a fashion magazine. So, yes, she is the first thing your mind settles on. But your attention quickly shifts to the person she’s talking to. The man has had far too much wine to drink –you’d know, you served it— and he’s not exactly the type you’d trust being inebriated around women. Already, he’s looking at her like a starved beast salivating over a freshly cut steak.

Your hazel eyes narrow at his direction.

“I will ask you for the final time. Do you have what I ordered for my mother?” the girl asks, her silvery voice curling slowly around every word, as if she’s talking to a toddler or a fool. It’s as funny as it is cute, but you can’t let yourself smile just yet. Something in his gaze takes all the mirth out of the situation for you.

Instinctively, you’ve moved closer.

“I have it. Yes, of course. Come with me an’ I’ll give it to you.” There is a very obvious slur to his words that inspires no confidence.

You want to shout when the girl so very easily follows him outside.

There are too many things wrong with that thought. Her, possibly new to the village, alone with a lecher like him. Her, unprotected, out in the dark, where every soul in this cursed place knows not to be.

Suddenly, you’re hyperventilating and you don’t know why. You don’t know her and her wellbeing is none of your concern. Everyone in the town is out for themselves, that part was made abundantly clear to you a long time ago. There is no room for compassion, especially at night. She made a bad decision and the consequences are her own to deal with.

You are not a heroine to follow her out and save her from the wolves and the man’s intentions and the rumored monsters. You are not that good of a person. You know it like you know the sky is blue; you are not that brave.

But you must be stupid.

You must be, because it’s not a minute later that you hurry out the back door, as well. It’s difficult to see anything in the dead of night, but you manage to spot the pair on the side of the building. The shopkeeper is now leaning too close to her, a drunken grin to his lips as he reaches out to grab at her chest. The girl’s hand flies to her hip, the handle of a weapon visible there just under the shadows—

Your fist is faster.

It cracks straight against the man’s jaw in a sound that shouldn’t be so satisfying but it is. His head knocks against the wall and he falls backwards like a pushed domino. Howls echo in the distance but the sound of your heart is too loud in your ears to register them.

You turn to the girl to make sure she’s alright –to see her with a gleaming sickle in hand, hovering awkwardly mid-air. At least she had a weapon with her. Yet it’s not so much the blade as her face that captures your attention.

She is beautiful. All delicate features befitting a princess, curved nose and cupid lips and a small chin. Her brown hair looks silken-soft as it runs down the sides of her angelic face… but you haven’t heard of any angels with an umbral, rose-like tattoo on their foreheads.

You have heard of beings bearing such markings that you’d be smart to avoid.

The contrast between the attraction you feel and the danger you should feel leaves you hanging there, still and mute. She is the first to move, hooking her sickle back to her belt in a motion far too dexterous not to ring some alarm bells in the back of your head.

“Well.” she says. “Looks like I’ve been rescued.” she doesn’t sound rescued. “Unnecessary… but sweet of you.” If her smile wasn’t so pretty maybe you would have already started running indoors.

“N-no problem.” you say as you’re beginning to regret all your life choices.

Her eyes flash down to your neck, then back up to yours. You don’t see her move, but her hand is suddenly on your bicep, just above the curve of your elbow. You can feel the chill of her skin through your clothes. “Relax. You’ll have a heart attack.”

Easy for her to say.

A quiet moment passes between you, during which you are all too aware of the fact your back is now pressed against the wall and she’s in front of you. Then, “Is it the howling…?” she asks. You’re half-lying when you nod. “Don’t worry about it. I can’t very well let my valiant protector get eaten, now, can I?”

It’s meant as a joke, but your heart constricts further in your chest. Images you’d like to avoid thinking about come to mind. How casually did she say the word ‘eaten’, though…?

“I’m –not really any of those things.” You shake your head. “What did you need from this guy?”

Conversation is probably good, you muse. It helps with your nerves and it keeps her occupied. Plus, she’s kind of really cute, the way her voice so perfectly matches her face. You can’t help but add that to the list of reasons.

A pout crosses her balmy lips. The moonlight that caresses her face makes them glitter. “I wanted a surprise gift for my mother. My order should have arrived by now –so maybe I don’t need him, after all.” Maybe I don’t need him alive is what she doesn’t say but strongly imply.

“No, no! I can get it for you!” you say the second she makes to move towards the unconscious shopkeeper.

A soft, airy chuckle leaves her lips. “Didn’t you say you aren’t a valiant protector?”

“Words I stand by. But there’s been enough loss in the village as it is.” you somehow find the courage to reply. “I’ll get it from him tomorrow—”

“So, that’s where you are.” Another female voice chimes in, this one several tones darker than firmer than the brunette’s. The figure that looms in the darkness wears a similar attire, but she feels more ominous than the one in front of you. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.” she says, stern, like an older sister you don’t want to ever cross.

“Sorry, sorry, I’m coming.” The brunette waves with her free hand. The one that’s not still on your arm. She turns back to you, her expression sweet amusement once more. “Be home tomorrow night and have my order with you, yes?” You can imagine it’s impossible for anyone to say ‘no’ to her when she bats her lashes like that.

You also don’t want to imagine what will happen if you refuse.

“Uh— Yeah.”

She beams. She downright beams. “Excellent!” She steps away and you take a much-needed breath…

But then she seems to think twice about it and slips right back into your space. Dainty fingers catch your chin, deceptively strong. Cool, soft lips land on your warmed cheek. She smells good, is all you can think about while she’s that close. Like the cold and roses and faint undertones of something metallic.

“Thanks, sweetheart.” she purrs.

The edge of her hood brushes your forehead and she’s out of reach before you can even blink. She waves at you from her sister’s side, who looks none too pleased with any of this.

And then— she blends into the dark and you finally register how cold it is outside.

Ko-Fi

#Cassandra Dimitrescu #lady dimitrescu's daughters #lady dimitrescu's daughters x oc #lady dimitrescu #tall vampire lady #resident evil village #resident evil 8 #fanfiction

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ourloveisforthelovely · 4 years ago

Text

Christmas (one shot)

Harry Potter Marauders AU

Request: (I am combining two requests on this one because they are similar)

1. idk if it taking requests and i don’t want to be told forward but do you think that maybe you could write one with the reader as James little sister where she’s dating regulus and when Sirius runs away during the winter he manages to get reg to go with him and it’s rly sweet bc they spend Christmas together and it’s like the start of them all becoming really close and Reggie becomes like an honorary gryffindor...

2. So I had an request with Regulus where he is dating the sister of James, and in the Christmas break he tells it Walburga and Orion but they kick him out, and so he goes to her house, kinda like when Sirius did :)

Pairings: Regulus Black x Reader

Rating: M- violence

________

Regulus stood outside of his mother’s sitting room working on getting the nerve to go inside. Today was the day that he would tell both Orion and Walburga about his relationship with you. It had been over a year of secrets and he was finally tired of it. Your parents were totally fine with the relationship so Regulus could only hope that his parents would be happy with his “happiness.”

You’re barking mad if you think that mum and dad will be happy. The Potter’s are blood traitors. They will flip.

Regulus had to shake the negative thoughts from his mind as he finally stepped into the room. Walburga sat beside her husband who was reading a newspaper. This was all that his parents seemed to do. Sit together but never speak. Regulus never understood it. When he started dating you his confusion over his parent’s odd relationship deepened. Regulus couldn't imagine just sitting beside you in silence every night.

Walburga looked up from the magazine that she was reading to gaze at her youngest son. It wasn’t often that Regulus appeared during her quiet time with Orion.

“What is it, Regulus?”

Regulus took a breath.

“I wanted to talk to you and dad about something.”

Orion put down his newspaper with a curious frown.

“Well, here we are. What is it?”

Regulus internally told himself to keep his nerve. If his parents could see that he wasn’t scared of them (like they wanted) maybe they would be a bit more perceptive to their son’s wants.

“I have a girlfriend. I’ve been dating a girl for over a year now. It's time for the two of you to know.”

Walburga immediately frowned.

“I see. We have promised you to…”

Regulus shook his head.

“I am not dating one of my cousins. I love the girl that I am with and want to be with her.”

Orion immediately crossed his arms over his chest.

“Who is she?”

“Y/n Potter.”

Both Walburga and Orion were on their feet in an instant. Walburga started screeching about the Potters being blood traitors.

“I forbid it! This relationship is over. You have no business in mixing with Potter trash.”

Regulus suddenly felt braver than he had in a long time.

“You don’t know her. Y/n is a wonderful girl. She’s smart, kind, beautiful...and she loves me.”

Orion sighed, putting a hand over his face.

“Is that what she told you? Regulus, love isn’t a real emotion. We have told you how some frivolous girl would use mentions of love to ensnare you into some trap. In this world there are only business arrangements. That’s what marriages are supposed to be about. If you let yourself become filthy by some blood traitor, no proper girl will want you.”

“I love her. Love is also very much real. I don’t care if the two of you don’t like it. You can hate it for all that I care. I will not give her up.”

(meanwhile)

Sirius lay on his bed throwing a small ball up in the air waiting for it to come back down. He was bored shitless and wanted nothing more than to get into something. The moment that he heard Regulus scream, Sirius sat up.

“Reg?”

He swung his feet over the edge of the bed and went into his brother’s room.

“Did you see a spider again, Reggie? I don’t think that it is going to get you.”

Sirius frowned, seeing no sign of Regulus in the room. His bed was neatly made and everything looked in order. Regulus screaming again made Sirius quickly turn and run down the stairs. He has a sickening feeling that he knew what was going on. Normally it was him who his mother enjoyed using as a punching bag. It was very few and far between when Walburga turned her wrath on her “favorite.”

Skidding into the sitting room, Sirius wanted to scream at the sight of his mother using the cruciatus curse on his little brother. Regulus lay in a fetal position bleeding from the nose and mouth while screaming for his mother to stop.

“Mother, stop it!”

Sirius snapped. Walburga and Orion, whom Sirius just realized was in the room, looked up to their eldest son.

“Go away, Sirius. Your brother is being punished and it's none of your concern.”

Sirius shook his head.

“When he’s bleeding from the nose, ears, and mouth it is my concern. Stop before you kill him.”

Orion finally spoke up,

“This is what he deserves for dating a blood traitor. Were you aware that your brother was dating the Potter girl?”

Sirius frowned. This is what it was about. His parents discovered Regulus’ romance with you and was having a fit. Sirius was worried that this would happen the moment that the two of you started dating. This was why Sirius begged Regulus to not breathe a word of this to their parents. How they found out, Sirius wasn’t for sure.

“Nothing is wrong with Y/n. Now stop before you kill him!”

(meanwhile)

You sat beside James as your mother put a plate of freshly made cookies in front of you. Euphemia smiled proudly.

“Enjoy you two. I know that I said no Christmas cookies before Christmas but you know that I can’t help it. I love cookies.”

James grinned and eagerly grabbed a cookie.

“Yes! I was hoping for cookies.”

He said gleefully as the doorbell rang. You quickly stood up.

“Keep stuffing your face. I’ll go get the door.”

James gave you a wide grin as you walked down the hallway to the front door as the knocking continued.

“Keep your shirt on, we are coming.”

You yelled as you opened the door. The moment the door was opened you instantly found yourself wanting to scream. Both Sirius and Regulus stood on the other side looking as if the shit had been knocked out of them.

“JAMES! MUM!”

You screamed before reaching out and tugging them both inside. Assessing the situation, Regulus looked a lot worse off than Sirius. Seeing your boyfriend like this was enough to make you want to sob.

“What happened? What is going on?”

You heard James and your mother running in from the living room. James was the first in the room and was as stunned as you. He made a b-line for his best friend as you continued to check Regulus’ normally flawless face for injuries.

Euphemia stood with her hands over her mouth before quickly “getting her head in the game.”

“James, Y/n, bring Sirius and Regulus into the living room. I’m going to get some towels.”

You quickly did as you were told. Wrapping an arm around Regulus’ waist, you stepped as close to him as possible.

“Love, please...what happened. You’re not talking and it's scaring me.”

Regulus tried to think past the pain that was going through his aching body.

“I told my parents about us.”

You could clearly see your mother spin around at the comment Regulus made. Euphemia was as stunned as you were. Sirius tossed his hair over his shoulder.

“Mum and dad used cruciatus curse on us then threw us out.”

Euphemia came back with a bunch of clean towels.

“I wouldn’t let the two of you go back anyway. There is no way that I could let either of you return to that house.”

“Mrs. Potter, we couldn’t impose…”

Regulus started but Euphemia cut him off.

“Nonsense. The two of you are staying. James, go tidy your room. I don’t want Sirius to break an ankle trying to move around in there.”

Sirius laughed at the expression on James’ face.

“I told you that you were messy.”

James grabbed his friend by the hand and tugged him into the room and closed the door. Euphemia turned back to face where Regulus stood quietly at your side.

“You two come with me.”

If anyone could patch Regulus up it would be your mother. Euphemia was perfect at healing spells. After having James Potter for a son, she had to learn a thing or two quickly before her only son bled out.

“What happened to make your mother do something like this, dear?”

Euphemia asked as she gently took a towel and dabbed at Regulus’ bloody nose. Regulus winced at the bit of pain that went through his face. Euphemia stopped, having a feeling that the boy’s nose was broken.

“The truth?”

Regulus questioned. Euphemia smiled.

“That would be lovely. After you get done tell me what the truth is then maybe you can enlighten my son a bit. His stories are getting a little old. He needs new material.”

Euphemia was relieved when Regulus smiled at that.

“I can understand that. His excuse for making a bad grade on a test before Christmas was something about asbestos.”

Euphemia chuckled.

“You’ve heard that one too.”

Regulus was silent a moment longer before deciding that it was best to tell Euphemia what actually happened. She would find out soon enough and it wasn’t like she was going to hit him. Euphemia didn’t seem like a mother that would beat her children. She was nothing like his mother.

“I told my mother that I was dating Y/n. My parents said that your family is…”

Euphemia pursed her lips having a feeling where this was going.

“Let me guess, blood traitors.”

Regulus blushed before looking down. He didn’t even want to say yes to this. For once, everything that his family stood for was nothing that he wanted to be a part of any longer.

“Yes...I don’t feel that way though. I love Y/n and I want to be with her.”

Euphemia patted his shoulder.

“No need to fret, dear. I didn’t think of you in that way at all. You may be your mother’s son but you are not her. Now I’m going to fix your nose then you two need to get some rest.”

(5 minutes later)

You stepped into your bedroom followed by Regulus. He was still holding a blood-soaked towel under his nose.

“Are you alright?”

You asked. Regulus nodded then shook his head. He looked down at his still trembling hands. He sat down on the bed before he fell down.

“No, I’m not alright. No parent should treat their kid like this. I shouldn’t be beaten to hell for being in love with you.”

You quickly took your place on his lap. Placing a leg on either side of Regulus’ body, you sat up enough to gently cradle his head against your chest. Stroking your fingers through his hair, you gently whispered that everything would be fine. Whether Regulus believed it or not you weren't sure.

“None of my friends will probably talk to me again.”

Regulus finally said in a sad defeated tone. He knew that Evan would probably give him the tongue lashing of a lifetime for doing something to be kicked out of such a prestigious family. If Evan spoke to him after that would be a great question in itself. Barty would find this the perfect chance to take Regulus’ place. He had been desperate to do it for years so why would he wait?

“You can stay with my friends. They won’t mind. James already is cool with us being together. He just had to get over that initial older brother issue.”

Regulus wasn’t sure how hanging out with a herd of Gryffindor’s would go but at the moment it didn’t seem as if he had much of a choice. He would be with you...that would be the main perk. Now he didn’t have to say goodbye again and wonder if his parents were going to hang him for being your boyfriend.

“That’s good to know. I’m sorry that he had to find out by catching us snogging.”

You were relieved to see a smile spread across Regulus’ face.

“He just had to sit quietly for a moment.”

Regulus rolled his eyes. James had to sit quietly whenever you did something questionable. Regulus pulled his attention off of James. As much as he was relieved to apparently have James Potter in his corner now, Regulus didn’t want to think about him at the moment. He had a feeling that he was going to be watched by James anytime the two of you were within inches of each other. This was going to make snogging be a bit difficult. Hopefully, he wouldn’t just come bursting into the room at any given time.

Looking around your room, Regulus couldn’t help but smile. Everything was comfy and screamed your name. For the first time, in a long time, Regulus felt safe. Knowing that he didn’t have to go back home was a welcomed thought.

Your fingers unbuttoning his shirt quickly got Regulus’ attention. He watched with amused eyes as you pushed the garment off of his shoulders.

“What are you doing? I don’t think messing around tonight would be a good idea. I would hate for your father to walk in with me between your legs.”

You blushed before pulling Regulus into a kiss. Everything seemed to even out at this moment. Regulus’ trembling hands seemed to steady as he wrapped an arm around your waist to keep your body against his.

“Oh, we aren’t having sex tonight. You need some rest.”

You kissed Regulus once more before getting off of his lap to pull down the duvet. Regulus smirked when he noticed the bunny-themed sheets.

“Bunnies?”

You blushed.

“I’ve had these for years.”

“I like them.”

Regulus commented before taking his place on the side of the bed by the door. He knew that he had nothing to protect you from in your home but it felt right sleeping on this side.

“You do not.”

You replied with a snort before getting into bed beside him and snuggling down to his chest. Regulus’ long fingers toyed with your hair.

“I do because it's all you. Everything about you is good...except when you're hungry then you get a little mouthy.”

The two of you laughed quietly until Regulus turned on his side. He was more than ready to go to sleep and forget the bad part of the current day.

“Want to know the best part about this arrangement other than not having to be apart?”

“What’s that?”

Regulus asked with a yawn.

“We get to have our first Christmas together. Happy Christmas a day early.”

Regulus kissed your forehead before snuggling back into the pillow.

“Happy Christmas, darling.”

_________

@amelie-black @truly-insatiable @fific7 @realgaytrash @lucasfilms77 @quuenofblacks @jessyballet @knreidy1 @acciosiriusblack @whymyparentscheckmyphone @criminalyetminimal @bennyberry @teletubiswszpilkach @exhsle @hazncalsgal @rubyroscoe1 @spiderxalmighty @brokencasbutt67-writer @authoressskr @fandom-trash-worth-it @hankypranky @summer-novak @li0nh34rt @tas898 @shadows-and-padlocked-hearts @knight-of-gleefulness @untoldshortsofthefandoms @sprnaturallover @deanwherescas @stuckinsaudi1 @shitfaceddaniel @wontlookaway @mycuddlycorner

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problematicfavesareproblematic · 4 years ago

Text

Our First Defeat

Chapter 1: You’ve Cut Me to the Bone

Uh, oh- guess what time it is? That’s right chicks, dicks, and everyone in betwix(t)....

It’s ‘another series that should’ve just been a straightforward one shot’ time!!!!

This is probably going to be at least a four parter, so buckle up buttercups.

Warnings: Smut, infidelity, oral, cum play, longing, ANGST, Lewis being a shitty husband to Katherine, run-on sentences, feels, probably OOC Nixy-poo, childhood f2l mention, mentions of prom sex so underage I guess(?), potty words, rich people parties, reader is tipsy when they boink but so is Nix and it’s pre-established desire so idk man

Special thanks to @sunsetmando for being my constant idea sounding board and cheerleader and to @liebgotttme and @mrsalwayswrite for their unfalteringly supportive praise despite my constant self-inflicted shit talking!

Title and chapter names will come from the first defeat by noah gundereson

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Say what you wanted to about Doris and Stan Nixon, but they sure threw one hell of a party.

Waiters in sharp suits, sparkling crystal glasses filled with golden champagne, marble floors polished to a near reflective shine- nothing but the very best for the engagement party for Mrs. Nixon’s baby boy.

If your heart hadn’t already become calloused from heartbreak, you probably would burst into tears.

You’d known the Nixons all of your life, and with Nixon being a year and a half your senior and his younger sister being three years your junior, the three of you had little choice to become anything other than close. Even when Lewis had grown old enough to get sick of girls and their games of dress up and make-believe, you and he still managed to get along.

You were both the oldest children in your families, and for a while you had also attended the same advanced reading course offered by your private elementary school’s librarian. Your shared love of books had bonded you nearly as much as your shared birth orders, and it wasn’t uncommon for your parents to find you both nose deep in one of your father’s large tomes of mythology.

It surprised no one that the two of you became close as you got older.

What did strike both of your families as odd was just how close you two stayed- especially when you both started attending your respective boy’s and girl’s boarding schools. You’d been each other’s penpals, school dance dates, and summer trip companions.

After your Junior prom, you’d lost your virginities to each other after polishing off two bottles of lethally strong port wine. Nixon, sex-drunk and just plain old drunk-drunk, had insisted that he’d done ‘other things’ with girls- that he wasn’t really a virgin but he’d yet to actually do the act.

As if he was worried that you’d make fun of him.

As if you’d think less of him for it.

Of course, things had changed once college came around.

He became busy with his studies, and you had thrown yourself into attaining your nursing credentials. He’d gotten a fair share of girlfriends and you’d had a few relationships of your own.

When your families would get together for holidays and birthdays, the two of you would inevitably sneak off and fuck until one of you decided that someone was going to notice your absences.

Then, after rejoining everyone else for an appropriately deemed amount of time, you’d rush off again to repeat the cycle. Sex with Lewis was everything you’d been told you shouldn't want- hard and desperate and just left of dirty but God did you love it. You loved the way your bodies fit together, the way his breath felt on your neck as he held onto you so tightly that you thought he might leave bruises. The way he kissed you as if he were drinking the air from your lungs, like he needed your lips in order to breathe, to live.

More than anything, you loved the ease that existed between you two- the way you both helped the other redress and how he would take your face in his hands and call you sweet things as he gave you languid kisses before giving you a wicked grin and guiding you both back to the party.

It wasn’t ideal, and more often than not you’d feel hollow again after a few days, but your trysts with Lew were the closest thing you had to a consistent relationship.

When Pearl Harbor happened, you’d made the decision to enlist as a field nurse. Nixon had begun to attend an Officer’s school, so you’d already started to resign yourself to the fact that this fling of yours could never be anything more than just that, a fling. Apparently he had, too.

You’d felt like you had been punched in the stomach when you heard about Katherine.

He hadn’t even told you that he was seriously seeing someone, let alone considering marrying anyone.

It had hurt more than you wanted to admit.

How you managed to keep a straight face when his mother proudly told you and your mother about the engagement, you’ll never know.

All you did know was that he’d made a choice, and it wasn’t you.

And you had to get over it.

Even so, it had still taken both your mother and your father to convince you to come to this party tonight. Your brother and sister had been allowed to stay home- they were still considered too young to attend such frivolous events.

Lucky bastards.

But you’d let your mother dress you in a velvet gown of indigo-violet decorated with rhinestones across the bodice and sleeves, allowed your younger sister to braid your hair in a halo around your head (despite your mother’s plea for you to wear it in a more fashionable and mature style) and even gotten a grumble of a compliment from your sulking teenage brother and greeted the Nixon’s with the same amount of warmth you always had.

If nothing else, finishing school had taught you well when it came to hiding your true feelings.

Katherine was the most beautiful woman you’d ever seen, her hair shiny and her skin perfect and her body curvy and tight in all the right places. Her sky blue dress draped across her form perfectly, as if it had been made for her.

Her hands were graceful and delicate- the perfect canvas for the huge diamond ring Nix had bestowed upon her.

To make matters worse? You liked her.

She was smart and well-spoken, with a habit of interrupting someone mid-sentence but that wasn’t enough to make you dislike her.

“Lew’s sung your praises for years,” Katherine had smiled smally after you’d introduced yourself to her. “it’s wonderful to finally put a face to the name….”

“It’s all lies, most likely,” you assured with a grin, a sudden realization hitting you. “Speaking of Little Lew—”

Katherine rolls her eyes and offers a conspiratory whisper.

“Pretty sure he’s stress smoking somewhere upstairs. I’ve been trying to get him to quit—”

You snort at that. “Then you are far braver than most, and you have my respect.”

You look over your shoulder, frowning as you took in the scene.

Turning back to Katherine, you give her a nod.

“I’ll hurry him along,” you murmur softly. “Drag him down by the ear if I’ve got to—”

“Consider my respect earned in kind, then.”

Sharing a smile, you politely excuse yourself and slip away up the stairs.

You had a feeling that you knew exactly where Nix was hiding.

The formal library was dark wood and warm leather, with deep seats and cigar smoke stained books that sat on shelves so high that even the tallest man needed to utilize the built-in ladder to reach the top.

As children, you and Lewis had spent countless hours reading of far-away lands and exotic adventures, darting back and forth between whatever book you’d decided on and the grand globe by the window to trace your fingers over countries neither of you would probably ever actually visit.

This room held your sweetest memories, as well as some of your racier ones.

Finding Lewis in here was only fitting.

He looked unbearably handsome- sat on the windowsill with the wind fluttering his hair across his forehead while the moon lit up his profile and made him look like some exquisite marble statue.

The cigarette between his lips reminded you of all the times he’d smoke after fucking you, the way he’d exhale the smoke into your parted lips before kissing you so deeply your toes would curl.

“I could get used to this,” he’d said, after one of your last trysts.

“What, smoking yourself to death in your dad’s library?”

He’d shot you a glare before attacking your neck with kisses that left you giggling from how they tickled your skin.

“No, Smartass,” Lewis said as he nudged your nose with his, a lazy smile clear on his face when he lifted his head away from you enough to meet your eyes. “This, with you. Not having to rush off before your mom comes looking for you. It’s nice….”

That felt like a lifetime ago.

“If you frown at the moon any longer,” you call out, smirking at the way he startles before realizing it’s just you. “You’re gonna get a wrinkle before all the wedding photos.”

He shoots you a look, shaking his head before turning to stub out the cigarette in the silver ashtray.

“Not even gonna lull me into a false sense of security before giving me shit, huh?”

With a practiced ease, he gently slides the window back into place and locks it, fanning the lingering wafts of smoke from around his face before turning to fully face you.

A familiar smile crosses his face that has you rolling your eyes.

“Well, I’ve gotta get all I can out of my system- now that you’ve gone and replaced me.”

With another withering look, Lew comes up and kisses your cheek before wrapping an arm around your shoulders and another around your waist to lower you into a dipped hug.

“Hey now,” he grumbles into the shell of your ear, his breath tickling your neck and causing you to shiver. “I think you’re underestimating your talents if you think anyone can fling smartass comments my way better than you- oh!”

Twisting you back up so you’re both standing, he pushes the door to the library closed to get to the bookshelf behind it.

With curiosity, you watch him pull a book from the shelf and present it to you with a flourish.

“A gift for you, my lady.”

Rolling your eyes, you take the book in your hands and peer at the cover.

You recognize the title immediately as a Poirot mystery, a grin breaking across your lips as you realize it’s one of your favorites- a collection of short stories featuring the Belgian detective and Captain Hastings.

As you open the book, you suck in a breath when you see the scrawl of Agatha Christie’s signature across the title page, and upon further inspection, you realize it’s a first edition.

“Holy shit, Lew…” you whisper, running your fingertip across the indents in the paper her heavy-handed scrawl. “Where’d this come from? How’d you know….?”

Looking up at Lewis again, you are slightly embarrassed by the amused expression on his face, deciding to look back down rather than acknowledge how clearly he was watching your reaction.

“Well,” he begins, stepping behind you to squeeze your shoulders. “It came from a bookshop, believe it or not—”

“Lewis—”

“And as for the how….Blanche told me in one of her letters.”

That gives you pause again- the reminder that you and he hadn’t written anything to each other in quite some time.

Clearing your throat, you set the book down on one of the desks and bring a hand up to rest over one of his. “That’s very…..thank you.”

You feel him press a quick peck to the crown on your head, something you were fine with until you left the pressure of his lips lingering there.

“I hope, uh…hoped you’d also take it as a sort of, er- peace offering, of sorts….”

You feel your shoulders tense at that. The blood in your veins suddenly feels cold and dead.

You’d hoped he wouldn’t do anything like this- wouldn’t bring any of this up.

“I’m sure I don't know what you’re talking about—”

“Yes you do.”

Sucking in a sharp breath through your nose, you turn around to face him.

“There’s nothing to offer peace for,” it’s taking more effort than you like to keep your voice even. “What you do with your life is none of my business.”

“It doesn’t change the fact that you should’ve heard about it from me,” he says quietly, and as his breath fans across your face you can pick up the sweet bite of whiskey beneath the smell of cigarette smoke. “That was….I should’ve been the one to tell you—”

“I don’t see why you felt you had to.” You give him a tight smile, working hard to keep yourself from scowling. “It’s not like we made any promises to each other….which I thought was the whole appeal of me, if I’m being honest.”

Lewis brings his hands up to brush against your jaw, the unexpectedly soft touch making you shudder before you can stop yourself

“You’ve got to have known that I’ve been in love with you since we were kids, Y/N—”

“Don’t say that,” you hiss under your breath, biting the insides of your lip and shaking your head. “That’s unfair, you can’t do this- it’s wildly unfair to Katherine, it’s not fair to me—”

Lewis scoffed at that, a rueful smirk twisting his face as he let his eyes trail down your face.

“‘Unfair’....what’s unfair is asking me to go down there and pretend like everything’s hunky-dory when you’re here, looking like everything I’ve ever wanted in my goddamned life and expecting me to act like I wasn’t wishing you were on my arm instead—”

“Jesus Christ, Lewis, that’s enough—” you cross your arms across your chest as you step back out of his touch and turn to look at the wall of books. “What’s the matter with you? I’ve always known you could be an asshole, but this is cruel, even for you—”

“How am I being an asshole?” he snaps, taking your shoulders and turning you back to face him, his frown deep and imploring. “Because I’m being honest? Huh? ‘Cause I’m telling you the truth—?”

“Because you’re telling me the truth now!” you say venomously, letting your own face morph into a scowl. “Tonight, the fucking night where we’re all here to celebrate you and Katherine getting married! You can’t just expect me to not respect that—”

“What if I told you I didn’t even want to marry her—?”

“Lower your voice!”

You don’t realize how close you’ve gotten to each other until you accidentally scuff your toes against the side of his polished shoe, something that shocks you out of your anger like a cold splash of water.

His cheeks are rosy with both drink and frustration, and you’re pretty sure that your face is flushed as well. Closing your eyes, you sigh and hang your head.

“If you didn’t want this,” you say a bit more calmly. “Then why did you ask her in the first place?”

You startle slightly at the feeling of him taking your hand, opening your eyes to watch him bring it to his clean-shaven cheek and hold it there. His eyes look tired, sad almost.

“Because I’m being shipped out soon,” he sighs heavily, twisting his head enough to press a kiss to your palm as the air whooshes out of your lungs in a pained sigh. “Because it’s what’s expected of me.”

Meeting your hesitant gaze, he offers a sad little smile and a shrug.

“Because it couldn’t be you, I didn’t really care who it was—”

Quickly, you take back control of the hand he’s holding and put your fingertips gently over his lips, your throat feeling tight at the admission.

“Don’t,” you whisper shakily. “Don’t finish that sentence….”

Taking your hand again, he moves it away from his mouth.

“Why not?” he says back just as quietly, eyes scanning your face. “Am I being an asshole?”

You shake your head, chest tightening as you take in his confession. “You’re breaking my heart all over again.”

He nods, his jaw clenching as he studies you. “I keep doing that, don’t I?”

When you don’t show any sign of amusement at his comment, he encourages you to wrap an arm around his neck as he pulls you into another borderline inappropriate embrace. A hug that was better suited for two lovers rather than two friends grieving a future that was entirely hypothetical.

His lips press to the side of your throat, inhaling the smell of your skin deeply and slowly.

“I don’t mean to,” he whispers, splaying his large hand across the small of your back. “I really want you to know that.”

You stay silent, focusing all of your energy into not crying.

Even if he had asked you to marry him, you would’ve had to say no.

Married women were unwelcome in all branches of military nursing- and you had worked too hard to ever consider giving that dream up.

Not even for Lewis Nixon….although you probably would’ve thought about it harder.

“I sometimes wish we’d never kissed,” you say with emotion in your voice, letting him hold you even closer at your hushed admission. “I wish I didn’t care about you, then we wouldn’t have to be like this…”

“I don’t,” he mumbled against your skin. “I wouldn’t take any of this back- even if I could.”

You shake your head sadly as you bring your other arm around his shoulders to more fully embrace him.

“That’s because you’re a masochist almost as much as you are a sadist—”

He groans at that, taking his face from your neck to press his cheek against yours.

“I knew getting you those Freud books was a mistake….”

This time you allow yourself to sigh a laugh. “Only because they seem to hit the nail on the head when it comes to explaining why you are how you are.”

“An asshole?”

“Yeah, Lew.” you gently break free of his embrace and smooth your hands down the front of his tuxedo- straightening his bowtie on the way. “Now you’re getting it.”

He looks as if he’s going to say something else, but you force a smile on your face and shake your head.

“C’mon, Mr. Nixon,” you say with a nod. “Your public awaits you. Best not keep them waiting.”

“Y/N—” He calls as you turn on your heel and walk to open the door.

“I’ll see you down there, Lewis.”

With that admonishing reminder, you open the door and hurry to find the restroom in order to collect yourself.

Dinner was going to be hell.

Of course, Doris sat you beside where Lewis was seated in the middle of the table- Katherine on his left and you on his right.

“Surrounded by his favorite girls,” Mrs. Nixon had cooed, standing behind Lewis’s chair and squeezing his shoulders excitedly. “What a lucky man you are….”

They had only just served the soup and already you wanted to crawl out of your skin.

The only things that saved you were wine and the endless stream of one-sided conversation from Katherine’s young cousin Marcus, who sat to your right.

He couldn’t have been more than sixteen- eyes wide and battle-hungry as he prattled on about the training courses he planned on enrolling in so that he could go to Japan and take revenge for the lives lost during Pearl Harbor. It served as a good distraction from the feeling of Lew’s eyes on your profile, silently begging you to turn and look at him.

You didn’t give in.

Marcus’s heart was in the right place, and it wasn’t his fault that you were trying to drown your distress in the sea of white wine you were creating inside of your belly.

But you had the feeling that if you had to listen to any more talk of what his brother had told him about the Navy and how prestigious their ships were, you were going to smack your head against the table until you passed out.

The only person who seemed to pick up on your distress was Lewis, and right now you were pretty committed to ignoring his attempts of conversation- hoping that by doing so you were strong-arming him into actually talking to Katherine, who was being so charming and well mannered that you felt like you were suffocating.

As you brought your fourth glass of wine to your lips, Lew decided to speak rather than just look.

“Think maybe you should slow down, Y/N?” Lewis says it quietly enough that only you and Katherine can hear him, and when you turn to face him you catch the sight of the other woman suppressing a chuckle into her glass of sparkling water.

A drop of resentment stains your previously high regard for her- her slight amusement being amplified to condescension in your current bitter state.

“Don’t worry ‘bout me, Little Lewie,” you say with a light slur in your voice- one that only those who truly knew you would be able to detect.

As a child, you’d had a slight speech impediment that you’d grown out of with proper training and practice. It was only when you were overly tired or when you drank that it slipped back into your speech.

You could feel that now, its presence heavy on your tongue.

“Just gettin’ it outta my system while I’ve still got the chance……”

When you're able to find his eyes with your own, you see the concern shining in them and suddenly feel like you want to cry.

You can’t help but think that this could’ve been yours- your engagement party, your future.

You’d say that the ring on Katherine’s finger could’ve been yours as well, but if you were being honest you found it too gaudy and flashy for your taste.

Lewis probably would’ve known that, too….would’ve chosen something significantly smaller and much more simple to present to you while down on one knee.

But he’s not mine, should’ve stopped thinking of him as mine a long time ago.

Without another word to him you slid your chair back from the table and stood, nodding appreciatively to the butler who instantly appeared to scoot the chair back into place.

Your mother, who was sitting closer to the door, gave you a worried look as you made to walk past her, silently asking if you were alright.

With a smile that didn’t reach your eyes, you gently placed your hand on her shoulder in false reassurement that you were just fine. You mouth the word ‘bathroom’, as you passed her and exited the dining room.

How you managed not to run up the staircase in search of somewhere you could let your mask of contentment fall away, you have no idea.

But you did. Your finishing school teachers would’ve been proud.

Rushing through the library you knew better than the back of your hand, you quickly found the small, slightly hidden room behind a sculpture that held all the wealth of paper and writing supplies.

The door barely shuts behind you before you suck in a shaking breath, face hot with tears you were refusing to shed. Each exhale sounds as if it’s being punched out of you, hands reaching out into the dark to feel for the wall so you can find the small footstool to sit upon.

You were right, you couldn’t do this.

It was too much, despite how desperately you’d tried to callous over the raw part of your heart that still ached for him. Resting your head in your hands, you try to slow your breathing, to muffle to sobs begging to be freed from your chest.

The sound of the door clicking open has you shooting to your feet in surprise, the wine in your blood making itself known as you teeter slightly and you have to brace your hand against the wall to steady yourself.

The snap of the light being turned on makes you squint at the sudden brightness, the sight of Lewis breathing heavily as he leans against the door to close it behind him making your heart race even faster.

“You shouldn’t-” you have to sniff quickly before finishing your admonishment. “You really shouldn’t be here, Lewis.”

He nods, his Adam's apple jumping in his throat as he swallows, eyes trailing up and down your body. “I know.”

Even as he says it, Lewis starts walking towards you. “I should go….”

Your own breathing has become deep and heavy, lips parted to accommodate the sudden desperate need for more air in your lungs.

Mind having failed you, you search for the right words to send him away- to tell him that what’s about to happen is wrong and that you’re just making it harder on yourselves in the long run.

But all you can think as he reaches you, his hands coming up to hold your face with an unmistaken intention, is that you are going to explode if he doesn’t kiss you right now.

Lucky for you, his thoughts seem to be similarly inclined.

He kisses you so hard that you think your lips will bruise, his hands pulling your face so desperately close that his eyelashes tickle your cheeks as his eyes squeeze shut.

As you moan somewhere deep in your throat, Lewis opens his mouth to swallow the sound. His hair is soft in your hands, your fingers fisting and pulling at it until he makes a groan of his own.

You allow yourself to rise up on your toes to make his head tilt back slightly, gasping into his lips when he suddenly uses his grip on your face to pull your mouth back from his.

He licks his bottom lip, whispering your name so you open your eyes and look at him with a heavy-lidded gaze.

“I-I don’t want to go without one more….” he seems to be at a loss for words, which for Lewis Nixon is truly unusual. But you think you can read his frustrated silence.

Your eyes search his dark ones, uncurling your fists from his roots to bring your thumbs to his forehead and smooth the concerned furrow in his brow.

“Okay,” you whisper, coming down off of your toes to brush your nose against his. “Then do it.”

As if your words were a racing gun’s shot, Lewis hungrily kisses you again- backing you up against the wall and clutching at you with carnal desperation.

You lose yourself in his fervor, scratching your nails down the back of his neck just shy of leaving a mark and moving to loosen his bowtie.

He catches your hands and pins them beside your head, squeezing them in a silent request to keep them there. You nod into the kiss, gasping for breath when he tears his mouth from yours and drops to his knees before you.

Looking down your body at him, you pant lewdly as you watch his hands disappear beneath the skirt of your dress and hurriedly pull your underpants down around your ankles.

The only patience he shows is in his careful assistance of helping your step out of them, but then he is immediately returning to his pilgrimage to the warm place between your thighs- bunching the deep violet-blue fabric in one fist while his other hand encourages your thigh up and over his shoulder.

He kisses you down there just as thoroughly as he had your mouth, licking the hot petals greedily to part the way to your clit before attacking it noisily and skillfully. Your head makes a dull sound as it lolls back to hit the wall, your hips surging forward at the gentle and unintentional scrape of his teeth against the soft flesh.

In an apologetic motion, the hand holding your dress beside your waist rubbing its thumb soothingly across your side.

You allow one of your hands to drop from beside your head to rest over his, your sigh of forgiveness getting lost in a breathy keen of pleasure.

“Shit,” you sigh, bowing your head forward to watch him look up at you from between your legs. “Jesus Christ, Lewis!”

Rather than take his mouth from you to reply, he elects to moan into your sex, the vibration striking somewhere deep inside of you that has your thighs quaking. Your eyes drift closed as he continues to suckle on you, the sound of him inhaling sharply through his nose making you feel dizzy with heady desire.

It had been almost a year since he’d last gone down on you- only because that was the last time you were afforded enough time for such foreplay.

And he’d only gotten better at it.

With careful yet distracted motions, he maneuvers the hand covering his so you are now holding your skirt up and out of the way for him. You open your eyes at the same moment you feel his fingers curl inside of you, an airy mewl slipping past your lips before you can stop it.

“I’m gonna cum,” you mumble stupidly down at him, finally bringing your other hand down to fist in his hair again as you begin to see the white-hot orgasm creeping into the sides of your vision. “Too soon….I’m sorry, it’s too soon—!”

His intentional humming around your bud paired with the cruelly perfect crook of his fingers sends your careening over the precipice of pleasure.

Your body shakes and your hips buck uncontrollably as he refuses to relent his near fervent milking of your orgasm.

You keep expecting him to stop, to pull away from you and start to seek his own release.

But he just doesn’t stop.

“What’re you doing?” you ask brokenly, keening into another moan as he slips one more finger inside of you. “Get up here and—ohhh!”

“Again, “ you hear him grunt into you with a near frantic tone. “Give me one more….”

You’re absolutely lost as he ushers you into another orgasm, mouth feeling dry from the open mouth panting you’ve had to resort to in order to remain lucid.

“I need you,” you whimper pathetically, your eyes open and unseeing as you gasp for breath in a vain attempt at cooling the fire burning in your body. “Please, I need you inside me….please, Lewis!”

It feels like he’s only just unsealed his lips from your sex when suddenly his tongue is in your mouth and his hand is cupped around the back of your head, kissing you languidly as your thrumming ears pick up on the soft sounds of fabric being untucked and trousers being shoved open and down.

Before you can manage to find the coordination to bring your hands down to help him free his cock, you feel him bringing the same thigh that had been over his shoulder up to hook around his hip.

With a familiarity that aches in both your heart and your core, you wrap your arm around his shoulders and nod into the kiss, just as you had that first time in your dorm room after the night of your Junior prom.

After one more soft peck, Lewis sheaths himself fully inside of you.

Your face twists at the abrupt fullness that stretches your sex to the sweet-stinging point that you ache for more often than you liked to admit, eyes flashing open in euphoric alarm as the man you’d loved since you were fifteen fucked into you with a punishing pace.

Apparently, he was just as desperate for you as you had been for him.

It’s now he who is making desperate noises that have to be muffled, his face buried into the slope where your shoulder meets your neck.

At some point, he’s managed to undo the button at the top of the back of your dress, nosing the fabric around your collarbones open so he can latch his lips to the flesh at the curve of your shoulder- worrying at the skin with tongue, teeth, and lips.

If you were in a teasing mood, you’d accuse him of having an oral fixation.

Lewis would make another comment about how much he regretted giving you the books by Sigmund Freud.

You’d try to offer some witty retort, only to be cut off by him pinching at your clit and biting at your lip.

It was so easy, everything with him just felt so good and comfortable and warmly familiar.

As if he can hear your thoughts, he presses his temple to yours so his lips are at your ear.

“It should be you,” he nearly whines. “I’ve only ever wanted you—”

The sob that bursts past your lips is so bitter and childish that even Lewis seems to notice through his haze, pulling his head back in time to catch sight of the tears rolling down your cheeks.

“I’m sorry,” he grunts as he kisses the tears off of your skin. “I love you and I’m sorry.”

Just as your first moan had been, your first deep sob is captured by his mouth. Your lips are salty and you can feel from his shaking lips that he’s struggling to keep his own upset at bay.

The hand that was holding your thigh wraps around it to press a thumb against your clit, and you can’t stop the stream of babbling that follows the movement.

You can’t shut up about how much you love him and how angry you are with him and how badly you wished things were different.

“I know,” he mumbles to each admonishment and devotion you utter, his voice becoming tight as you intentionally squeeze down on him with everything that you’d got. “I know, I know, Please love me anyway, I know.”

It’s the sound of Lewis coming undone that sends you into your second orgasm, holding on for dear life as he brokenly thrusts into you a few more times before yanking himself away to spill himself onto the wall beside you- bracing his arm there as you blindly reach down to stroke him as well.

You both stand there, breathing as if you’d both just sprinted across the fields behind his house.

Using the wall as a support, you turn to face him and press your forehead to his sweaty temple, the hand of the arm against the wall moving to rest atop your head as he shudders and stills in your hand.

“Good,” you breathlessly praise him as you gently release his cock. “So fucking good….”

As you bring your hand to your mouth to suck it clean, Lewis curses lowly as his eyes follow the movement, like you’ve hurt him somehow.

Before you can reach your hand down to get more, Nix grabs your wrist and holds it in the air.

“Don’t you dare,” he whooshes out with an exhale, turning his head to kiss you deeply enough that you know he can taste himself. “I’m gonna fucking cum again if you do shit like that…”

You give him a small smile, pecking a quicker kiss on his lips.

“Didn’t think you’d be open to letting me lick it from you directly.”

His wicked smile is lazy, wrapping his arm around your waist as you make to push yourself away and twisting your bodies so he’s now the one leaning against the wall with you pressed against him.

‘Not yet,” he pleads into the crook of your neck. “Please, not just yet.”

And, because you’re a terrible and weak person, you stay.

When his fingers start to undo the buttons holding your dress together in the back, you shake your head.

“One more,” he murmurs as your dress starts to fall loose around your shoulders. “Just once more….”

Despite knowing how much you’re going to hate yourself for doing so, you nod and lower your arms so your dress pools around your feet.

“Okay,” you whisper. “Just once more.” ~ ~ ~ (HELLO I LOVE YOU AND SORRY FOR ANOTHER SERIES WHEN I HAVE ONLY EVER ACTUALLY FINISHED ONE BUT THIS IS WHO I AM AND IF YOU DON’T LIKE IT THEN I AGREE WITH YOU, TBH)

Taglist: @mrseasycompany @itswormtrain @mrsalwayswrite @happyveday @sunsetmando @ricksmorty @liebgotttme

also let me know if you want to be added to le taglist bc i am a silly lily who will forget unless i’m constantly reminded

also also here’s the dress i used for reference bc what are outfits

#band of brothers imagines #band of brothers x reader #lewis nixon x reader #problematicfavesareproblematic

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theloneliestshipper · 4 years ago

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Imagine if you will, post Mando Season 2, Boba took over Jabba's palace and word gets around. Leia comes to see for herself, and hopefully form an alliance, but- and this is crucial- she shows up disguised as Boushh again. It's a test to see if this Boba Fett is the real deal.

AO3 Link

“Look, I don’t know what more I can tell you. He said his name was Boba Fett.” Cara Dune’s voice was soft and a little tense. Leia didn’t blame her for being nervous. An outer rim marshal being summoned to a command ship would normally proceed some kind of disciplinary action.

Leia flipped a switch on the holoprojector and the image of a firespray-class ship appeared. “Yeah,” the marshal confirmed. “That’s the ship.” Another switch revealed an image of a man in battered Mandalorian armor. She leaned closer to the projector. “Nnnh. It’s not the same. Different colors. And he doesn’t wear a flightsuit under it.”

“It can’t be the same Boba Fett,” Luke reasoned. “The sarlacc swallowed him whole.”

“I’m not saying it is or isn’t,” Cara Dune replied evenly. “But I’ve seen this guy with his helmet off, and something terrible happened to him. If you told me he was chewed on by a sarlacc I wouldn’t blink.”

“Thank you, Marshal Dune.” Leia stood as she spoke. “Speak with Commander Elrith outside. He’ll call a shuttle to take you back to Nevarro.”

She hesitated at the door. “I don’t know if he’s the same Boba Fett you knew. But I know Mando trusts him, and that’s worth a lot to me.”

“We’ll keep that in mind,” Luke assured her. As soon as she was gone he folded his arms, tucking his hands into the sleeves of his long jedi robe. “Is it better or worse for us if it’s the same guy?”

“I don’t know, but Tatooine has become too important. Someone has to go meet with him.”

“What does Han think about all this?”

Leia looked away. “I haven’t spoken with him recently.”

“Sorry.” Luke’s voice dropped low in sympathy. “How’s Ben taking it?”

“As well as can be expected.”

“I’ll go.” He gestured at holo images. “I’m sure this brings back memories.”

“It does.” Leia took a breath. “But I have to go. I know how to find out if he’s the same Boba Fett.”

---

The hardest thing to get used to was the helmet. The other clothing and light armor worn by the Ubanese bounty hunter fit Leia quite well. She could move around comfortably and more importantly, without notice.

The day she wore it to Jabba’s palace was the first time she wanted to be noticed in it. Chewie made sure that she was. It wasn’t until after she put the thermal detonator away that she saw Boba Fett. He tilted his helmet in a slow, deliberate nod and suddenly being noticed seemed like a terrible idea.

The fact that she was 35 thousand credits richer was not lost on anyone in the throne room. She was offered everything under the stars from sex to drugs to part ownership in an aurodium mine. A spice-dealing Dug followed her around for almost an hour no matter how many times she swung her staff at him. He could sell her the best stuff, he claimed. Pure spice. The real deal.

An armored arm entered her peripheral vision and a blast of fire forced the dealer to scramble back, cursing in Huttese. She turned around to face Boba Fett, a walking threat in scarred armor. “He cuts his spice with filanium,” he said matter-of-factly as the dealer scuttled away. “Nothing you can get here is real.”

“What do you want?” She asked, relying on the voice scrambler to make her voice sound like the voice of Boushh.

“I want to know how you caught Chewbacca.”

Her mind raced as she tried to calculate her response. How would Boushh respond? “Why? So you can steal my tricks?”

“You think I need your tricks?” His tone was mocking, even through his helmet. “I brought in Captain Solo. What happened to the princess?”

There was a terrible roar in her ears. She could hardly hear herself speak. “What?”

“The last time I saw the wookiee, Solo told him to take care of the princess. Wookiees take that kind of thing seriously. It must have been difficult to separate them.”

Leia wanted nothing as much as she wanted to be able to see past Fett’s inscrutable visor. “It was not difficult for me.” She added for good measure, “so the princess has lost both of her protectors.”

“Can’t speak for the wookiee, but Solo needs her protection more than she needs his.”

“Why do you say that?”

“She’s too smart for him. Maybe now she’ll realize it.”

As suspicious as she was of Fett’s motivations, she had to fight the urge to defend herself and Han. “Some do not let go so easily.”

Fett snorted. “She’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. She’ll be fine without him.” His helmet turned, following Bib Fortuna as the majordomo passed by. “What did he give you? A marker?”

“Yes.”

“I’m still waiting for Jabba to cash out mine. Hang on to that thermal detonator. You might need it.” He took a step to one side and walked past her, leaving her to weigh his words with a hammering pulse.

Soon afterwards she was exposed as a fraud and forced to become a tasteless display for Jabba and his minions. Fett never said a word to her while she was chained to Jabba’s dais, but he also never strayed far.

There were times when the braver creeps would sneak closer. Sometimes they would tug on her chain when Jabba was distracted. But there always came a moment when they looked beyond her and suddenly and swiftly backed away.

Even years later when she thought about their brief exchange in the throne room, she couldn’t say with certainty. Was it a warning? Did he know?

---

It didn’t take long to find him. She caught a glimpse of his dark green armor outside the spaceport in Mos Espa and followed him at a careful distance. Once again in the guise of Boushh, Leia was invisible. The helmet still took some getting used to. She cut through an alley and nearly crashed her head into a rack of metal utensils hanging above a vendor’s stand.

The jetpack certainly looked familiar. It was the same style of Mandalorian armor, but with a darker color scheme. His build was thicker, his gait heavier. He walked like a man with nothing to fear.

How he ended up as the regent of Tatooine was a subject of some debate. There was a power vacuum after Jabba’s death, and portions of the world were held by warring gangs and factions every bit as corrupt as the Hutt cartel. Now a man called Boba Fett controlled it all. The rapid consolidation of power was impossible for the New Republic to ignore. The only question that remained was whether this new leadership would be a friend or a foe.

The suns of Tatooine were beginning to drop low on the horizon, and the citizens of Mos Espa were returning to their homes. That made it more difficult for Leia to hide in the crowd. She kept to the shadows as much as she could, trying to guess where he was headed. Was he bound for Jabba’s palace, or did he have another destination in mind?

He made a sudden turn, down an alley below a flashing sign. Leia paused to work out the Huttese.

A brothel. Interesting.

She turned the corner and there was no sign of him. Maybe there was a side entrance?

A pair of gloved hands caught her bandoleer and nearly lifted her off the ground. She swiftly turned her staff, grasping it both hands and bracing it against the throat of the man who was now holding her against the wall.

“Well look at that,” he said in a raspy voice that, like the rest of him, was both familiar and different. He released her and stepped back as much as the narrow alley will allow. “If it isn’t the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

Leia set her staff against the wall and pulled the helmet off her head, drawing in a gulp of unfiltered air before she spoke. “It really is you.”

Boba Fett removed his own helmet. The light was swiftly fading from the sky, but the flashing brothel sign provided enough light for her to see the scars. “What’s left of me.”

Leia had no comparison, having never seen his face before. But even scarred and worn he was a handsome man. “You look pretty good for a dead man.”

“Thank you. You look exactly the same.”

“I’m supposed to be flattering you, not the other way around.”

One hairless brow lifted in a challenge. “Go on, then.”

She leaned back against the wall and pursed her lips in exaggerated thought. “I like your face. It’s nice to be able to finally see it.”

The corner of his mouth lifted. “Consider me flattered.”

She should turn the conversation to business now. Pleasantry and then diplomacy. But she couldn’t resist. “There’s something I’ve always wanted to ask you.”

“What’s that?”

“In the palace, when you approached me…” she gestured at the helmet in her hand. “Did you know who I was?”

“No.” He said it without hesitation, but with a hint of chagrin. “I felt like a real idiot, in case you were wondering.”

“So you meant what you said. About me. And...Han.”

“Every word. It’s still true, as far as I’m concerned.” He paused, turning his helmet in his hands. “You’re here on business I imagine.”

“Politics. The usual.” Her eyes dropped briefly before returning to his. "I think I will be, you know. Fine without him."

"Good." He held her gaze for a moment before he replaced his helmet. “Business first," he said, motioning for her exit the alley before him. "And then dinner?”

#boba fett/princess leia #rebelbounty #prompt #my fic #leia as boushh #*muffled screaming*#I love this prompt so much how dare you #star wars fanfiction #post mando s2 #Anonymous

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dettiot · 4 years ago

Note

Maybe a happy fic of Obitine where Obi-Wan decides to stay on Mandalore? And some cuteness with baby Korkie? P. S. Love your fics! 💕

(Thank you!)

Whenever he held Korkie, the baby seemed to immediately settle down. Obi-Wan didn’t blame his son: there was something about holding him that made Obi-Wan feel calm, too.

Satine would mutter about ‘karking jetii powers’ even though Obi-Wan told her that Force sensitivity didn’t have anything to do with it. And it wasn’t like Korkie didn’t light up whenever Satine entered the room.

But maybe his duchess was right. Because there was a bond between Obi-Wan and Korkie.

Like many other nights, Obi-Wan had risen to take care of Korkie when he awoke his parents with his cries. Satine opened her eyes long enough to give him a half-smile before she fell back asleep.

Now Obi-Wan held Korkie in his arms, walking slowly through the halls of their home in Sundari. Korkie whimpered softly, huddling against Obi-Wan’s chest.

“Shhh, little one,” Obi-Wan whispered, stroking Korkie’s back. “You’re safe.” He wrapped a soothing blanket of warmth and calm and love around his son in the Force, but Korkie still fussed.

“Perhaps you would like a story?” Obi-Wan said quietly, looking into Korkie’s blue eyes. He thought for a moment, then began. “Long ago and far away . . .”

Korkie moved closer, his Force sense radiating interest.

“There was a young, smart, beautiful duchess. She was the ruler of her planet and wanted to bring peace to her people. But some people didn’t like that idea. So the duchess had to flee,” Obi-Wan said softly, his lips against Korkie’s temple.

“But she wasn’t alone,” Obi-Wan continued. “She had the help of a wise, kind Jedi and his student. The student wasn’t very wise, but he tried very hard. And even though it was against the rules, and certainly wasn’t wise, he couldn’t help falling in love with the duchess. Because she was strong and determined and full of emotion. And she loved him back.”

Turning around, Obi-Wan started walking back towards Korkie’s nursery, feeling him starting to calm. So he kept telling the story.

“The student wasn’t sure what to do. Should he leave his family, his way of life, for the duchess? And the duchess didn’t know if the student would be willing to stay with her. She was nearly as wise as the Jedi, you see,” he said, looking down at Korkie and smiling.

He slipped into Korkie’s nursery and sat down in the rocking chair, moving back and forth in an even rhythm. Korkie’s eyes were nearly shut, but Obi-Wan could tell he still wasn’t quite calm enough to sleep yet.

“The duchess was also braver than anyone else, because one day, she looked at the student and asked him to stay,” Obi-Wan said softly to Korkie.

“And the student said yes,” Satine finished softly, stepping into a pool of light cast by the moon shining through the windows.

Obi-Wan looked at Satine and smiled. “He did. Because the duchess’s wisdom was starting to rub off on him.”

Satine let out an inelegant snort, but her smile was soft and warm and dazzling. She leaned down and brushed a light kiss over the top of Korkie’s head. “And they lived together happily for the rest of their days,” she said.

For a moment, Obi-Wan gazed down at Korkie, before slowly lifting his eyes to Satine. The smile on her face, her contentment and love in her Force sense, the warmth of their son in his arms . . .

“Thank the Force the duchess said the word,” Obi-Wan said softly.

“Indeed,” Satine said, reaching out and brushing his hair back. “And that the student said yes.”

Rising to his feet, Obi-Wan gently settled Korkie in his crib. And then he wrapped his arms around Satine, holding her close, trying to tell her without words how much he loved her.

But then, he realized that if Satine hadn’t been the one to say something, they might not be here at all. So he lightly kissed her temple, and whispered in her ear, “I love you.”

End.

#obitine #obi wan kenobi #satine kryze #korkie kenobi #star wars #my fic

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fablesrose · 4 years ago

Text

Tell Me a Story 2

Description: With the first interaction with Chuck almost over and done with, Dean and Y/n have to figure out how the heck this is going to work. Some mafia business goes awry, but when has anything gone to plan?

Word count: 4,581 (guys this is over twice as long as the first part, this is ridiculous)

Pairing: cop!Dean x mafia!reader

Square filled: Moodboard

Warnings: knives, pain, a little blood

Masterlist ~ Bingo Masterlist

A/n: Part two also goes with @girl-next-door-writes Bingo challenge! Btw this whole fic is based on me wanting to write the first part of this chapter so there's that too.

“I don’t know sir, I’m not much of a story teller.”

“Come on Dean.”

“Tell me a story.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Well I’ll do my best.” Dean glanced at me, trying to decide how this would go. “If I remember right sweetheart, you called me?”

“Yeah!” I wracked my brain as quick as I could, “It was a wrong number call. I think I was trying to order take out.” Oh my gosh that was so stupid.

“But with me in a new city, a new job, I wanted to talk for a bit,” Dean squeezed my hand, “we decided to keep in touch and the rest is history!”

Chuck just looked at us for a bit, an unamused look on his face, “You’re right, you aren’t much of a story teller.”

Dean’s finger twitched against my hand, and I had to admit, that in this moment it was comforting. At least I was going to die next to a pretty nice dude.

“But whatever. You guys go claim some territory or something.”

Chuck seemed so complacent that it made a spark of anger ignite inside of me.

“Chuck, we’re not some teenage boy gang that spray paints wall-”

He had advanced towards me and had his hand roughly grabbing the base of my jaw, a few of his fingers pressing into my neck. He was just enough taller than me to wretch my face up painfully. I let out a grunt, but otherwise shut up.

“You are whatever I damn well tell you you are, Starling. Now go claim some territory.” He roughly shoved my face to let go. He quickly fixed his sleeves and patted Dean on the arm, “Sorry for touching the merchandise. You kids have fun now.” He turned on his heel and walked out of the building without a second thought.

There was a moment were nobody moved from the room. In the last few minutes it made it easy to forget that there were more than just Dean and I there. I wasn’t the highest ranking person in the room, but the list got messy sometimes.

“Alright, you heard the man,” I sighed. But still nobody moved, “I said let’s go!”

The members surrounding me rushed from their stationary positions to exit the building. I moved to follow but the tug on my arm reminded me that I was still holding Dean’s hand. I couldn’t decipher the look he had on his face, but it wasn’t a good one.

I gave him a soft nod with a squeeze of the hand before letting go and following the group. I heard his heavy footsteps behind me, but he made no effort in catching up to walk by my side.

“What a guy you got.”

I huffed, “Hello to you too Meg.”

“He’s hot. Ask if he’s got any hot friends he can hook me up with alright? Or you can just let me have him.” She nudged me a little in jest.

“Any other requests, Cockroach?”

She shoved me a bit harder, “Just don’t get in the way of my spray paint.”

I laughed as she ran up to the front of the pack, wanting to pick the spot to throw some paint.

I stuffed my hands in my pockets, slouching a bit as I followed the pack, wanting to be in my own thoughts.

A hand wrapping around my shoulders caused me to stiffen and straightened my back. I glanced to my side to find that Dean was the one walking next to me now. I wasn’t sure what he was doing, maybe trying to keep up the front that Chuck gave us. I relaxed a little bit, loosened my jaw, but my posture remained straight.

“You expect someone else?” Dean kept his eyes facing forward, not even glancing in my direction.

I mimicked his expression, “The boys tend to try and get handsy.”

He hummed and patted my shoulder, “So that didn’t go to plan.”

I turned to look at him and waited until he looked at me. I shook my head softly as if to say, “Not now, not here.”

He nodded, just as softly, as if to tell me that he understood.

We walked silently down the streets, just far enough behind the group to be separate, but close enough to see where they were going. I know I said we weren’t a teenage boy gang, but sometimes I did wonder. By their behavior alone, you would think they were some stupid seventeen year olds, roughing each other up, looking for trouble. Fortunately to some, they were intimidating enough from experience for people to not try and mess with them.

By the time Dean and I caught up, Meg had already gotten the spray paint out. She would never admit it to anyone out loud, but she enjoyed this. And she was good at it too. She ordered some of the boys around, some to help her with the graffiti, others to keep watch and to keep people away.

I took a second to think, I was lousy at painting (not that I didn’t try), and I figured this was as good a time as any to talk to Dean. Now the question was how to get alone.

The answer was I had to swallow my pride.

I turned my body towards Dean, one hand at the small of his back, the other gripping the front of his shirt, “Hey guys...” That got their attention. “You’ve got this covered, right?” I bit my lip a little, trying to sell it.

“If you don’t get out of here with him right now, I will shoot you myself,” Benny was leaning against a wall with a bemused smile on his face.

I shot him a wink and grabbed Dean’s hand to pull him away, “Duly noted Gaterson.”

“You sure do know how to pick ‘em lover boy!”

Dean let out a single laugh in response as I dragged him a block away into a secluded ally way.

We walked into a shadowy area to get as much seclusion as possible. I let go of his hand and leaned against the wall. I rubbed the heels of my hands into my eyes which pushed my head against the bricks behind me.

“Starling?”

I sighed, “Please don’t call me that.”

“Sorry, I just meant what does it mean, why do you have it?”

I lowered my hands to see him leaning on the wall across from me, “Maybe some other time. All you need to know is everyone has nicknames around here.”

He crossed his arms, “So is lover boy my nickname now?”

I huffed out a laugh, “Nah, they’ll call you all sorts of things until something sticks.”

There was a pause. We both knew we were dancing around the real subject I pulled us away for, but I wasn’t sure I knew what to do with it.

“So that didn’t go to plan.” Dean was braver than I was.

“Yeah no shit.” I banged my head against the bricks hard enough to make a sound and tried to dig into the cement with my shoe out of frustration. “To look on the bright side—which I loathe doing by the way—we’re not dead...So there’s that.”

“There is that… Got any suggestions?”

“Why is it that you’re supposed to be the professional and I’m making all the decisions?”

“I don’t know, with your performance and cool composure, I’d say that you’re the professional in this situation.”

I sighed and closed my eyes, “The only thing I can think to do is play along. If it gets too much we can fake a breakup...” This was getting so complicated.

“Fake a breakup? As far as I’m concerned, we’re not actually dating.” I could nearly hear the smirk on his face.

“Really Dean? Really?” He chuckled in response. “Since Chuck already knows that you’re a cop I think the best thing to do is for you to go to work. Be a police officer that’s on the payroll, but be a little more involved.”

“Whatever you say sweetheart.”

I heard voices approaching the ally way that sounded familiar. Then there was a harsh shh to quiet them down.

“Shit,” I looked at Dean, grabbed his jacket and pulled him closer, “You’re gonna have to kiss me.”

I stared at me dumbfoundedly, “What?”

“Look, they think we came over here to make out, if we don’t at least look like we’re making out they’re gonna be suspicious.”

He still looked shocked.

“Shit.” I didn’t want to kiss him on the spot either, so I did the next best thing to make it look like we were making out. I grabbed him by the back of the neck and pulled his face down next to my neck slightly angling his body to cover me. The sudden motion caused him to catch himself with his hands against the wall on either side of me.

He wasn’t touching me, but I could feel his startled breathing against my neck. I ran my hand along the back of his neck and through his hair. It was extremely soft. I started making little noises and muttering Dean’s name. To sell the act, naturally.

Dean, once he recovered from his freezing shock started to brush the tip of his nose against my skin which startled me.

I heard a whistle from the end of the ally, “Yeah Ms. Starling! Get some!” The group rounded the corner to see us there. I flipped them off, making them laugh.

I gently tugged at the back of his collar to say it was okay to part now. As he straightened himself I caught his face and left a soft kiss on his cheek.

The group had started to disperse and go their separate ways since we were done putting on a show because they “caught” us.

Dean and I walked side by side out of the ally, by the time we got to the entrance our previous companions had all gone their separate ways.

“Sorry if I made you uncomfortable,” I started to walk the way we came, back towards the wall Meg was working on.

“No, uh, that was smart of you,” he jogged to catch up with me and shoved his hands into his pockets.

The walk was silent around the block.

Eventually we arrived to see what Meg had done. She had out done herself once again. The wall was covered with a silhouette of an angel. It’s wings were burning as the figure fell. It was intricate as only Meg could be. There were a few lone charred feathers across the wall as well. In the bottom corner an F was painted as if it had fallen over.

“It’s beautiful. How’d she get if done so fast?” Dean stared at the wall in awe.

I nodded, agreeing with him, “I’m pretty sure she made a demon deal, but I don’t know.” I pointed at the painting, “This is just street art, but this,” I pointed at the F, “makes it Fallen territory. Watch for it.” I patted the wall where there wasn’t any paint, “Alright, I’ll call you if something comes up you need to be at. Any questions?”

“Nope, I guess I’ll see you around Miss Y/n.”

I side-eyed him with a smirk before I started to walk towards my apartment.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Something like a week passed. It was relatively quiet, me minding my own business. I thought it was almost too quiet when I got a call from Meg.

“Hey, what’s up?”

“Letterboys are causing some trouble on 5th Avenue. You wanna bring your boy toy to help sort this out?”

I hummed, “I was just thinking that it was getting boring around here. I’ll give him a call and head over.”

“See you, Starling.”

“Uh huh.” I hung up on her and dialed up Dean. I was redirected to his voicemail.

“This is Dean, you know what to do.”

“Hey, we’ve got a territory dispute over on 5th Ave, if you’ve got time you can stop by.”

I left it at that and headed out to show some mafia wannabes that territories aren’t to be messed with. It didn’t take long to see Meg standing off against a guy, maybe twenty-three years old.

“Everyone paired off already?”

“Yeah, I think there’s a straggler that headed west though, you wanna pick him up?”

I slapped her shoulder, “Yeah, I got it.”

I heard her start to make small talk with her challenger, he didn’t stand a chance, “So, how’s the other side of town?”

I chuckled as I started heading West, checking all the nooks and crannies. I eventually came up on a kid walking down an ally, his hood was up, head down.

“Hey kid, you lookin’ for something?”

He looked up at me, “Just heading home ma’am.”

I nodded, “Alright, just, have you happened to see anyone running around with a pointy triangle-ish mark on their wrist?”

He didn’t respond, he just pulled out a switchblade. How cute.

“Look kid, you look too young for this, and I’m too old for this, so why don’t you head back where you came from.” As I spoke I pulled out my own, slightly larger, switchblade.

It seemed like he didn’t want to talk anymore because he started to charge at me.

I smiled, “Alright, have it your way.”

I dodged him at first, but then I started to cut him just enough to sting. That seemed to make him angry to the point where he caught me a couple times too. I started cutting a little bit deeper, hoping he would give up.

“Okay, you’re obviously out of your league, why don’t you go home?”

He made a jab at me, to which I grabbed his wrist to stop him. What I didn’t expect was for him to toss the blade into his other hand and slice a fairly deep cut into my side.

“Dammit!” I shoved him away onto the ground and pulled out my gun from the back of my waistband. I pointed it at him and stepped on the hand with the switchblade, “That’s enough of that.”

He spit some blood onto the cement from the split lip I gave him at some point, “Cheater!”

“Hey, you’re the idiot that brought a knife to a gun fight.”

A single bleep from a siren sounded off behind me. I turned my head to see an unmarked police vehicle on the street.

“Ah, Detective Castiel, nice to see you!” I kept the gun pointed at the kid on the ground. He may not have been the smartest, but he was smart enough to not move.

“Y/n, if you shoot that kid I’m going to have to arrest you.” He didn’t sound amused as he walked around the car.

“I’m only going to shoot him if he tries to stab me again,” I stared at the kid pointedly, “got it?”

He nodded sadly.

I looked back at Cas, “You know, this kid was looking to cause some trouble, so really I’m doing your job for you.”

“Sure.”

“Is that a new trench coat? It looks nice.”

“It is, thank you. Are you going to let him go now?”

“I don’t know,” I looked back at the kid, “are you going to go home and not cause any trouble if I let you go?”

He nodded again.

I stopped pointing my gun at him and stepped off of his hand. He scrambled up and ran back the way he came.

I put my gun back into the back of my waistband, “Kids these days.” I popped my hip as I turned to fully face Cas for the first time tonight, “Chuck still wants you on the payroll, by the way.”

“And you already know what my answer is, Y/n,” he leaned back against the car behind him.

I sighed, “Yeah I do. You’re a good man and a good cop, Cas.”

He smiled, a rare occurrence, but I didn’t mention it. “You’re a good person too, Y/n.”

I laugh halfheartedly, “If you say so… If you say so.” I crossed my arms and felt the wet stickiness from my side, reminding me of my injury. “Anyway, Meg should be about a block east of here if you want to go say hi.”

He rolled his eyes, “Yeah I should see if you guys are causing any other trouble.”

I turned on my heel to head home and clean myself up, “Love you too Cas!”

I heard the car start and drive off behind me. I finally looked down at the cut to see how bad it was. I was wearing a black shirt, so the blood didn’t show, making it difficult to see just how bad it was. From what I could tell, it was a few inches across. I couldn’t tell just how deep it was, but the cut was positioned over my ribs, so it didn’t damage anything important. Luckily the kid’s knife was sharp, so it would heal faster as it didn’t tear the skin, unfortunately the kid’s knife was sharp, so it went deeper.

I pressed one hand against the wound while I walked back to my apartment. On the way my phone buzzed from a text.

Dean: Hey, sorry, I was called out. Did you still need some help over on 5th?

Me: No, it’s taken care of. I’m heading home now.

Dean: Okay.

I put my phone away and continued home. Eventually I was able to unlock my apartment, careful not to get blood anywhere. I headed straight to the bathroom, stripping off my shirt and tossing my phone on my table on the way. I held it to the cut while I dug around for the first aid kit and once I found it I tossed the soaked shirt into the sink.

I turned the water on, getting a washcloth wet. I started cleaning around the cut to get a better look at it, having to rinse out the washcloth a couple of times to prevent just smearing blood around.

It was still bleeding, but the pressure I put on it caused it to slow down. Once I got a good look at it I could tell it wasn’t going to cause too many problems other than taking a while to heal and being sore.

A knock came to the door. I was obviously not prepared for visitors, so I left it be. It was probably one of the neighbors, they liked to check in every once in a while. I hoped they would just move on. They knocked one more time before my phone rang in the other room. I really should have just turned it off.

Finally the phone stopped ringing, but not a moment later I heard the creek of my front door opening. I reached for my gun the was still in my pants.

“Y/n? It’s Dean, I’m coming in okay? Your door is open.”

I sighed in relief and placed my gun on the counter, “Okay.”

I heard some rustling of what I assumed was him taking his coat off and the click of the lock sliding into place.

I pulled out some cotton pads and soaked one in rubbing alcohol. I just looked at it for a second, not wanting to clean the wound, but knowing I had to. I closed my eyes and took a couple of deep breaths, preparing myself for the sting.

“I thought you said everything was taken care of.” I looked up to see Dean in the doorway. He had a hard look on his face.

“No, I said the problem was taken care of.” I relaxed against the back of the toilet, knowing that I had a second before I was going to clean my side.

He walked in and took the saturated cotton pad from my hand, “That looks like a problem to me.”

I tensed up in preparation for him to clean it once he started to approach me, “Something like that.”

He hesitated, “You want something to numb it?”

I let go of the breath I was holding, “Yeah, uh, whiskey’s in the kitchen.”

He stood up to go get it, leaving the cotton pad on the counter. He came back with the glass bottle and handed it to me. I took a couple of swigs before placing it on the counter next to the rest of the first aid supplies. I felt myself relax a little bit. I heard a clatter as I knocked something to the floor in the process though. I bent to pick it up, my body protesting a little bit, but I picked it up all the same.

“What’s that? On your back?”

I instantly knew he was talking about the black tattoo that was at the base of my neck, in a spot that my shirt would cover.

I turned so he could see them better, “They’re wings.”

He traced them for a moment before I turned back around, “You wanna get started on this please?”

He grabbed the cotton, “Yeah, of course. They’re beautiful.”

I hissed in response as he started to brush the alcohol along the wound. I clenched my jaw so hard it started to ache, I whimpered before biting down on my fist.

Dean paused and pulled on my hand, taking it from my mouth, “Hey, hey, focus on me. Why don’t you tell me a story, huh? Focus on something else.”

I was breathing heavily, “Like what.”

“What does Starling mean? Why’d you get that tattoo?”

“And why would you want to know that?”

He squeezed my hand, “Because you’re supposed to be my girlfriend, and I think I would know these things.” He smirked because he knew he backed me into a corner.

I groaned as he touched my side again, “Fine.” I took a deep breath, “As you already know everyone needs a nickname. I was called a lot of different things, some more… savory, appropriate than others. I don’t know why, but I always seemed to be favored by Nick, by Crowley. I got my name under Nick, but that doesn’t matter.”

I gasped as Dean pressed particularly deep to which he apologized.

“I was being bossy one day. Nobody was listening, I had just got back from an infiltration job. Someone, they’re not around anymore, they called me a stupid Starling, and it stuck. Starlings in North America are considered an invasive species, terribly annoying, and unwanted.” Dean gave me a break to get a new cotton pad to finish up, “Tattoo means the same once something is solidified, you get a tattoo representing your name and a Fallen symbol.” I pulled my ear forward and showed Dean the fallen F tattooed behind it, just like the one next to the angel Meg painted.

“Well, I think they look like angel wings.” Dean came back and started cleaning the last little corner and around the edge.

“Really? Black angel wings?” I tried not to flinch as he caught the edge a little roughly.

“Yeah, I do, Angel.” He threw away the cotton with a small smile on his face.

I laughed, “Okay, yeah, sure.”

Dean looked at the wound closely, “I think I’m gonna have to stitch it up, just so it’ll heal faster.”

“You know how to do that?” I gestured to the first aid kit, knowing that stitching supplies were there, I had to do some myself every once in a while.

“I’m decent.” He started sterilizing the needle with a lighter he had in his pocket before cooling it off with the rubbing alcohol. “So how’d you get this in the first place?”

The stitching process was still painful, but not as bad as the cleaning. “Letterboys were roaming our side of town, looking for trouble.”

“Letterboys?”

I snorted, “They call themselves Lettermen, don’t ask me why, I have no idea. Really, they’re gang wannabes, so we call them Letterboys.”

Dean tugged at the needle to tighten a stitch, “Uh, huh. And if they’re so pathetic why’d you get this thing?”

I huffed out a laugh, “This idiot brought a knife to a gun fight and I played along for a little too long.”

“Ah, makes total sense.”

“So, how was work in a new city?” I wiped around my eyes to make sure I didn’t have any tears showing.

“Uh, it was alright,” he tied off the last stitch, “transfer information is still being worked out, but they’re thinking about pairing me up with this Detective Castiel or whatever.”

I smiled, “That’ll be good. Cas is a good guy. I actually saw him tonight.”

“Was that before or after you got injured?”

“After.”

Dean looked at me skeptically, “If he’s such a good guy, why didn’t he take you to the doctor or something? Is he in with Chuck?”

“Nah, it was dark, I was wearing that black shirt, I didn’t let him notice. And no, he’s the farthest person from Chuck you could get. He’s tried to take Chuck down a couple of times actually, gotten close too. That’s why Chuck desperately wants him to join, but Cas has the same answer every time, not in his right mind would he ever join.”

“So he’s trustworthy,” Dean nodded, satisfied.

“To an extent, yes.” I examined his handiwork, I was impressed. “You can’t tell him you’re into this though, not that you’re undercover, not that you know me. He’s already too deep into this and if he changes his behavior, thinking there’s a chance he can help you take Chuck down? Chuck will get suspicious and everything will fall apart, okay?”

“Understood.”

I stood up, testing the stitches, “Good.” I started cleaning up the counter and putting stuff away when Dean stopped me and started cleaning up himself. “Thanks,” I headed towards my bedroom and grabbed a new shirt to throw on. I groaned involuntarily when my stitches stretched as I pulled it over my head.

“You okay in there?” Dean asked from the bathroom.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” I changed into some sweatpants while I was there.

“Do you wanna keep this or...” He trailed off as I walked out in a shirt that looked very similar to the one in the sink.

“Nah, I’ll just toss it,” I pulled at the hem of my shirt, “these are pretty cheap.” I wrung out the shirt as best I could and walked into the kitchen to throw it away, “The bathroom was just in the opposite direction of my gross trash.” I washed my hands, “Thank you, can I get you anything?”

“Another fake make-out session?”

I snorted, “And why would you ever want that?”

“Because it was hot.” Dean had a teasing smirk on his face as he followed my example. “But for real, do you have a beer Angel?”

I reached into the fridge to grab us some, “You’re serious about calling me that?”

He popped it open easily, “Yeah, I think it’s cute.”

I shook my head and walked to my couch with a beer in hand and curled up into the side, “So.” I gestured for Dean to join me, “What was so important that you knocked on my door twice, called me, and then walked into my apartment anyway?”

He groaned in embarrassment, “Well, it’s not important anymore…”

I laughed, “Oh come on Dean, tell me a story.”

Best Buds: @kitkatd7 @snarky--starky @confetti-its-an-imagine-blog @kaogasm

Dean: @akshi8278 @msmarvelouswinchester

#dean x reader #cop au #mafia au #cop!dean #spncreatorsdaily #mafia!reader #Girl Next Door's Make Me Feel Bingo #make me feel bingo #tell me a story 2 #dean winchester #moodboard

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