and if you look closely you can see gary's all i did not come here for this shit

I Think I Wanna Marry You...(Part 3)

Pairing: Dean X Reader.

Warnings: fluff, mild angst, Dean being a jealous bb

S/P/N- Sister’s Preferred Name.

Word count: 5k O_O

Summary: Dean, trying to get accustomed to Y/N’s family and her life in Boston, finds himself worrying about their very own lives together and what the future holds. Will he manage to find a permanent position in her life, or is it all just a role he must play for these two weeks?

Part 1

Part 2

A/N: I’ve been writing this over a span of two weeks and had initially planned to divide it into two or three parts, but decided against it. I hope you like this.

Tagging: @sassyspn67 , @awkward–jay , @daesunglg​ ,  @hayleynightcore


Dean prays his nervousness doesn’t show in the weak smile he offers the table of gleaming faces. They all stand as the three of them approach, all with welcoming smiles, all eyes trained on Y/N as she walks to them like a prodigal daughter returning home after so long.

S/P/N goes in for an immediate hug once she’s close enough and engulfs her little sister, squeezing the life out of her. He tries not to chuckle at the way Y/N groans—countless stories about their childhood together, about how close they were and unbreakable bonds and up until today Dean has never once met S/P/N, but he can’t help but find the way she treats her sister amusing.

The grin on her face is wide as she pulls away. “Look at you!” She says, eyes raking up and down Y/N’s face. “You’re so different now, oh my God!”

“Please don’t start with me, we only just got here.” The y/h/c-haired girl replies as she straightens out the creases in her skirt. Before she can even get another word out, her mother is at her side, an ambient smile gracing her face.

“Well, S/P/N’s not wrong.” Her voice is a deep baritone, husky and rich as she gives her daughter a kiss on the cheek then turns to the boys. And that’s when the anxiety comes flooding back.

A queasiness in his stomach, a twitch in his jaw—something basic and miniscule like breathing or blinking, something he does unconsciously, suddenly feels mechanical. Forced. But the elder Winchester masks it with an amiable smile, the corner’s of his eyes scrunching up. Y/N’s mother’s eyes then travel to his own and her face lights up. “Dean…”

“Marilyn…” He smiles.

They hug like their old friends, like this isn’t their third (fourth?) time meeting; that’s the kind of person Y/N’s mom is. Everyone is her friend. Everyone is adored company rather than a burden, and Dean can’t help but feel a bit intimidated by this level of kindness because God, could he pick a leaf.

Her face folds like dough when she simpers. “looking dapper as ever. Sam, don’t think I’ve forgotten you.”

S/P/N cuts in, earning the elder Winchester’s attention. “So you’re the esteemed-Dean, huh?” She asks, brown eyes scrutinizing him; despite being her blood, she looks nothing like Y/N. A few join similarities here courtesy of genetics and maybe some shared habits, but Dean knows Y/N enough that he’d be able to distinguish her if she even had a twin.

“Wow.” S/P/N turns to Y/N with a ribbing smile. “You really know how to pick ‘em.”

“Shut up.” Y/N rolls her eyes, but the pink-tint in her face is undeniable—so she’s nervous, too. Good. Someone has to be, he thinks. Maybe Y/N can take his place in this apprehensive state, salvage him from his feelings.

“The stories I’ve heard about you…” S/P/N says fondly. “Welcome. It’s great to finally meet you.”

“Yeah, likewise. Your sister goes on and on about you.”


Dean’s expression then shows hwo taken abck he is at that very moment: his eyes widen a smidge and his brows quirk. Turning to Y/N, he asks, “Does she now?”

The young hunter’s face is a deep red as she shoots her sister a dangerous look, jaw clenched. “Really?”


Rolling her eyes, she then links her arm with his. “Come on, Dean. There’s still a ton of more people we have to meet.”She says  as she turns and strings him along with her. They scuttle aside, leaving Sam deeply invested in chatter with Marilyn as they venture into the crowd. Amused, the elder Winchester’s smirk doesn’t leave his face as they move.

He leans in, voice hushed. “So, you talk about me a lot, huh?”

“Shut up, Winchester.”

“That’s not a no.”

“It’s not a yes, either.”

“Sure, whatever helps you sleep at night.”

Y/N then halts to a stop and whips around to face him, face constricted with irritation. Satisfaction floods Dean at the sight; pretending they’re in a relationship doesn’t mean abandoning his liking for razzing the young-girl. If anything, he reasons, it’s a catalyst.

“Dean,…”She warns, her voice as thin as ice. “I’m warning you…I’m not one to shy away from slapping you right in front of all these people?”

“You wouldn’t do that to your boyfriend…”Smirking, he goes to wrap his arms around her waist and pulls Y/N in, tipping his head down to look at her. Her expression then falters for a moment; her face falls and the fire in her eyes fades; but its brief, almost indiscernible, because seconds later her pout resurfaces.

Their bodies are flush together, her nimble waist caged in his hands, and Dean tries so hard to ignore the way the tips of his fingers heat up at the contact.

Instead, he chuckles and loosens his grip. Y/N manages to slip out as she rolls her eyes—even then, her blush is still evident.

“Come on…”She links Dean’s hand in hers, and leads him over to another table crowded with some cousins and aunts. The garden is dotted with various people, all smiling when they see her, all going in for hugs and pecks on the cheeks and all giving such sly smiles when Y/N says that Dean and her are dating. Some congratulate them, some, whom Dean has had the pleasure of meeting before like Y/N’s cousin Garth, hold a teasing glint in their eyes.

They talk to relatives and uncles and eerie aunts who, right in front of Y/N, try to hit on Dean. The garden is buzzing with life from all ends, music floating amongst chatter of guests, people dancing,  and as she talks more and more with old friends and relatives, he can see the young girl gradually unwinding.

Her smile, ever-present and as radiant as star, grows with each second, with each interaction. She’s mirthful. Happy. If that’s the case, Dean wonders, then why was she so reluctant about driving out to Boston? Why had Y/N shown the idea of coming out here such disdain?  The question swims in his mind, but that’s as far as it goes. Dean doesn’t bother asking. That’s not his focus now—his focus now is playing his part and helping her get through these two weeks without any setbacks, and so he allows himself the luxury of sitting back and indulging in the buffet with Y/N. Their earlier hunger returns with a vengeance once they spot the table lined with various foods.

They’re stacking piles of pastries onto their plates, when all of a sudden comes a voice.

“How did you two meet?” Uncle Gary, a burly bull trapped in a man’s body, inquires. He’s got hair as grey as the ash on his cigar, and each time he speaks, the thick mustache atop his lip wiggles like a caterpillar. His wife, Steph, stands by his side, eagerly staring and waiting for a response.

“Uhm..”Dean’s gaze slides to Y/N. She looks back at him, a brief horror flashing on her face. For a few seconds, they panic. Shit.“We met…”

“In the park!”

The elder Winchester, shocked, glances over at his girlfriend. She’s smiling at her uncle, her cool demeanor seamlessly in place. If you look hard enough, you can see the glint of pride in her eyes from just saving their asses.

Uncle Gary’s thick grey brows quirk curiously. “In the park?”

“Yeah…” Y/N affirms. “Well, by the park. I was, uh, walking my dog one morning when all of a sudden this car comes speeding out of nowhere as we’re crossing.” She casts cursory glance at Dean, who tries not to smile, both in appreciation and subtle arrogance.

“Yeah.” He supplements, earning the attention momentarily. It’s kind of funny how synchronal they are—a close call like that, teetering along the line between exposing themselves, but Y/N manages to redeem them, and Dean, like a dancer moving to the tune of her symphony, follows without a beat.

“See, I was on my way to work that morning. I was late, so you can imagine what a rush I was in, right? So there I am, cursing to myself as I speed down the road, one hand on the wheel and the other on my tie, when this fuzzy little poodle—“

“Jack Russell.” She corrects. “ He was a jack Russell.”

Dean raises his finger in benediction.  “Right, Jack Russell. So—all of a sudden, he jumps out onto the road and I’m in shock. “

“Luckily, with quick reflexes like Dean’s, he managed to swerve out of the way. He misses him. ” The young girl plays the role so earnestly, her furrowed brow and weary eyes expression selling her distress. “God, poor Kujo was shaking like a leaf. “

“So, Y/N, pissed as hell, tries waving me down. She’s running after my car until I finally pull over and she comes up to my window, and just starts exploding.” Dean’s eyes widen for emphasis, his hands waving in the air. It’s a known trait of his. Whenever telling story, to try and spice thing up or make them seem much more exciting than they actually are, the elder Winchester will flail around and pull faces, and Y/N won’t admit it, but she find it absolutely adorable.

“She’s going on about calling the cops and road rules and safety, but at that moment all I’m focusing on is how goddamn y/e/c her eyes are.” He explains. He doesn’t notice that, as soon as the words leave him, the young girl’s face flushes red. He goes on, says something more, something that makes Aunt Steph’s face fold and crease like cookie dough as she smiles, and then finishes off with a firm arm around her shoulder.

He gives it a firm squeeze, his eyes crinkled with a smile. “Long story short: I didn’t even show up for work in the end.”

“Wow.” Aunt Steph’s grey eyes go wide like planets. “Unconventional grounds indeed.”

“That story was a rollercoaster from start to finish! Loved it!” Uncle Gary, smile engulfing his face, slaps a friendly hand onto Dean’s shoulder who glances at Y/N.

The pair shares a confided glance, their pride shining in the way they smirk at each other. They’ve pulled it off.  

The elder Winchester offers a proud smile, fighting the urge to turn to his partner, to pull his lips back in a teasing smirk, for the smugness in his eyes to say I told you so, I told you the doggie hit-and-run would sell. Instead, however, he focuses on Uncle Gary telling him about his very own Terrier that nearly got hit by cyclist as she and her aunt wander off to the sidelines.

“Well, well, well…” Someone says from behind them.  Dean instinctively turns; his eyes meet with a pair of deep blue ones staring intently at him, at Y/N, a lopsided grin set onto the stranger’s face. His hair, a deep onyx, cascades down his neck to his shoulders. He’s dressed in a suit, very official, very formal, and it makes the elder Winchester’s stomach turn for a moment.

“Look who it is.” The stranger says.

Dean furrows his brow. “Excuse me?”


His head snaps in the Y/N’s direction, and his confusions swells even more when he sees the wide grin lacing the young girl’s face.

Her eyes trained on the stranger, she shakes her head slowly. “Oh my God.”

“Missed me?” The stranger smirks at her, then goes in for a hug.

Dean steps aside and out of the way, trying not to bump into the table and almost topples over a tray of croissants. He watches, bewildered, as the two exchange pleasantries. Y/N’s arms are slung around his neck, as she giggles then pulls away.

“Very much.” She smiles at him. “Wow. It’s been so long.”

“Hasn’t it?”


The elder Winchester, attention grasped, looks to her. She points at the blue-eyed man. “This is Rick—Rick Montoijia! He was my neighbor when I still lived my parents from, like, two houses down. Uhm, rick, this is my boyfriend, Dean.”

“Heya.” Rick stretches his hand out for a shake. Hesitating, Dean eyes it momentarily and then finally accepts the gesture.

“Hi….” His eyes scan the stranger’s face dubiously, his grip firm, trying to assert dominance. And all of a sudden, something has brewed in his chest.

Something hot and vehement in the space below his ribs; an energy, a sense of intimidation. It’s stupid to feel, yes, but Dean can’t help it—his chest floods with a jealousy as he lets go of the other man’s hand.

With an excited smile, Y/N addresses Rick. “What are you doing here? We—I haven’t seen you in ages.”

“S/P/N’s wedding.” He points to Y/N’s sisters standing a few meters away. “Obviously I knew you’d be in town for that. I figured,’ well, when was the last time I saw Y/N L/N?’ and here I am.”

“Here you are.” Dean cuts in.

All eyes shift to him. Y/N peers over Rick’s shoulder, trying to get a better glimpse, and the green-eyed hunter offers a strained smile; one far from genuine, something the young girl is obviously familiar with, because her smile begins to melt away at the sight. Dean doesn’t care. His gaze then shifts to Rick, whose smile is still smeared across his chiseled face.

“Uhm, yeah…”The dark-haired man laughs nervously. “Here I am. So…”His attention averts onto Y/N. “How long are you gonna be in town? We need to catch up.”

“Definitely. I’m here for—“

“We’re here—“

“—for two weeks. Yeah, we’re here for two weeks.” Y/N finishes, voice holding a dangerous edge to it. Dean chooses to ignore it, instead focusing on the way the dark-haired stranger’s face lights up with mirth.

“Wow. That’s great.”

“It really is, Rick. Anyhow, it was great meeting you, but we have to go.”


Dean doesn’t give her a chance to object as his hand goes to Y/N’s waist, and he nudges her forward, quickly trying to get away as fast as possible. Luckily, they succeed; standing behind them, Rick offers a weak, awkward goodbye as they move further away. In his chest, dean’s heart thrums rapidly, incessantly.

His jealousy boils like a hot stew, threatening to spill over, and he suffocates it; he’s being irrational. He’s being stupid. That guy is just one of Y/N’s many friends, he reasons. He’s just another familiar face from Boston, a ghost from her past, nothing too serious…

But the call to worry is stronger than reprimand for Dean.

When she notices his stiffness, Y/N turns to look at the elder Winchester. Concern swims in her y/e/c eyes. “You okay?”

Attention grasped, Dean turns to her, finds her imploring eyes set on him. They’re back inside, sitting with Sam and the bride and groom, and the band is playing some variation of Eric Clapton’s Wonderful Tonight.

Trying to stifle his feelings, the elder Winchester regains composure, offering a tight-smile. “Oh, yeah.”

“Sure? You seem…absent. Like something’s bothering you.”

“No, nothing’s wrong.” He lets out a sigh. He tries to steady the quaking in his core, letting his gaze drift across the room. Y/N scoots closer in and rests her head on his shoulder. Her hair tickles his jaw.

“If you say so…”She says with sigh, her breath fanning against his skin. Her body is warm against his, like a tepid lava flowing down his skin, soothing, therapeutic almost.

“Good job back there with nearly killing my dog, by the way. Put on quite the show.”

The elder Winchester laughs. It’s soft and feint but she can feel it in the rumble of his body beneath her head.

“Yeah, well, what can I say—I’m a sucker for theatre.”

“Are you now?”

“Oh yeah, massive fan. Plus, anything to get my story told.” Dean senses it hanging in the air like a string suspended between them, a silent question. It’s quiet for moment.  He then tips his head to glimpse down at her, a smile playing at his lips.

“Say it.”

“I don’t want to.”

“You have to.”

Y/N bites her smile back, a row of her chalky white teeth contrasting the burgundy on her lips, then lets it all bubble out. “Fine! You were right. Your good looks and charm won me over—there, are you happy?”

Dean doesn’t bother to try and mask his smile. “Extremely.”

“What’re you guys talking about?”

His head turns; S/P/N waddles over and pulls out a chair a few seats away, smiling as she sits down. She folds the pleats in her burgundy skirt over.

“Stuff.” Replies Y/N, head still draped against Dean’s shoulder.

“What kinda stuff?”

“Couple stuff. Dean and Y/N stuff. You wouldn’t understand.” She smirks; then Dean pokes her side and she lets out a giggle; it’s a sweet, quiet sound, like the hum of a bird or the wind wisping through the trees, and it makes the pit in the elder Winchester’s stomach from earlier yawn open.

As Y/N speaks with her sister, the elder Winchester feels a flood of melancholy coming on. He can always tell when it’s happening; it’s like watching everything around you happening at a normal pace when all of a sudden things are slowed down, sluggish, delayed. That’s what Dean feels like right now. He loathes it.

The evening is electric and dressed in a celebratory energy. More guests have arrived for the dinner, all pouring in in massive crowds and gaudy sartorial dresses. Dean has to stand when he greets them all, offering an amiable smile, the occasional hug and peck as they all fawn—oh my God, the Dean? Y/N’s Dean?

It gets annoying having to hear everybody so jubilant over meeting him, at a point. They’re excited to be meeting their sister’s boyfriend, their niece’s lover, the man whom she, too, shall bring back here to Boston in a few years to wed. To them, Dean assumes, meeting him is a gateway to another one of this sartorial dinners just a few years ahead.

To him, it’s plain insulting.

Why did he even agree to this? Playing pretend had seemed less tedious in his mind. Doing it now, the elder Winchester is wrought with negative emotions; with jealousies and blind resentments and a bitterness because he shall have anything but this future with Y/N, and God, is he pissed.

“Dean,” She says, pulling him from his reverie. Aunt Steph and good ol’ Gary sit across from them, sipping on some champagne and laughing with Y/N’s parents, and to their left is S/P/N and Japheth. Everyone is laughing and chatting and the air reeks of jubilance, except for the corner where a heavy grey cloud hangs over Dean’s head.

Y/N’s hand is on his as he turns to her, her y/e/c eyes trained intently on his. “What’s wrong?” She pries. He has to say something. Lying would only act as a catalyst for his negative emotions (lying to Y/N, at least). So, instead, Dean heaves a heavy breaths and gathers the feelings in his chest into a single nest.

“Nothing’s wrong.” He says. “I’m just trying to let this all sink in. Your family. It’s pretty overwhelming meeting all the people in your life who mean the world to you.”

“I’m sorry if this isn’t how you planned to spend the next two weeks, Dean.” Y/N’s gaze falters, moving to their hands loosely draped over each other.  

Dean’s eyes follow. He shrugs and, taking her hand in his, slowly links them together absentmindedly. Their fingers fit perfectly, like a key slipping into a lock, like a tight knot, and he tries to ignore it.

“Don’t be, Y/N.” He replies. “Besides—I’m the one who offered this in the first place. I don’t really have the luxury of complaining.”

“Should I give it to you?”

“Keep it.”


When Dean finally looks up, he finds Y/N’s eyes trained on him, her lips pulled back in pleasant smile. In the background, the music slows to a stop as it shifts to the next song. More upbeat, more jazzy and fun. The room’s chatter provides the perfect undertone, but Dean ignores it—all of it, because all he can focus on right now is Y/N.

His Y/N. For tonight, for two weeks.


He’ll take what he can get, even if it’s having the honor of playing her boyfriend for a period of time and then going back to being just her best-friend; to being her Dean and not her Dean.  Going back to a life where she sees their relationship, although intense, as nothing more than a deep friendship.

It’s only been a few hours, but it’s crazy how much can be revealed to you in such a span of time. Dean sees it now—sees Y/N and, even if he didn’t think it possible, even more of her than he already has. He sees Y/N in her element, with her family, with her friends and with a sense of mirth radiating off her…And as great as it is, all it does for him is nudge at the thought that he shall never be part of that.

They mean a lot to each other, he knows that much, but today has made him wonder if he will ever be part of Y/N’s suburban life, whether he’ll breach past their life spent in the bunker and in pages of lore and into that which holds this very idyllic essence.

The thought, daunting and unfortunately saddening, hits the elder Winchester like a ton of bricks. He immediately turns away. He rests his focus on something—anything—that isn’t Y/N smiling at him and causing an uproar in the space behind his heart.

The night simmers on, laced with laughter and chatter and smiles too bright for Dean to bare. He only watches from the sidelines, an observer, a spectator…Y/N is the center of the orbit that is the eclectic crowd. She smiles and the entire room responds with an abundance of simpers; her laugh is a mellifluous symphony overpowering the music, her eyes glint like the stars in the sky and she throws her head back and captivates the attention of everyone in the room. She reels them all in like a magnet, like she’s magic…

And to Dean she is…

She always has been and always will be. She is ethereal and glimmering and inside her is a flame and a tornado and such vehemence that would tear a mere mortal apart, but doesn’t even scratch her skin the slightest.

Y/N is magic and she will always be magic, and Dean knows this. He wishes he didn’t, but he does, and it hurts…Because the hollowness in his chest that comes from watching her so radiant makes him wonder why he said yes to the torture of being just another planet in her orbit in the first place…


The list is exceedingly long, but what stands out predominantly on the account of things they were meant to discuss before they left home (but didn’t), is the sleeping arrangement.

Standing in their hotel bedroom, the elder Winchester stares at the single bed, at the six fat pillows nested at the head and the vast comforter definitely two huge for two. It’s a lover’s suit; of course the hotel would be expecting customer’s to be doing anything but sleeping in these sheets, but Dean’s case is the exception.

Y/N is in the bathroom getting ready for bed. The sound of the shower running echoes throughout the otherwise silent room and the elder Winchester feels a small welt of nervousness claw at his belly. They’ve shared beds before. This shouldn’t be a big deal…


God, he’s acting like a teenage boy with this. It’s not that hard, Dean tells himself. They can even divide it into two regions if they want, Y/N’s, and then the extremely comfy one with the extra pillow for him. They can sort this out. It doesn’t have to be awkward, eh tries to reason, but something tugs at his gut and tells him otherwise, because Dean feels all sorts of anxious.

Maybe it’s the thought of lying to sleep with her after the mortal sin they’ve just committed throughout the day: fraud. Artifice. Maybe, Dean thinks, it’s the fact that they’ll have to pretend to be together even as they lay to sleep that terrifies him maybe it’s the lover’s suit. He and Y/N are anything but. All the times they’ve slept in the same bed in the past, it’s been in dingy, itchy, sketchy motels, not five stars hotels that probably provide complimentary condoms.

He lifts the thick blanket on the bed and crawls under it, trying to get comfortable. The bed is cloud, embracing him, engulfing him into its form like it’s an amoeba and him its prey. God, this is comfy. Dean’s eyes flutter and he tips his head back in subtle ecstasy.

Right at that moment, the door to the bathroom swings open.

Y/N stomps out in pajama shorts and a towel clasped tightly to her chest, eyes wide as she glimpses around the room. Opening his eyes, Dean then ctaches her gaze.

“Sorry.” She apologizes and points to her beg at the foot of the bed. “I just need my shirt from my suitcase. Don’t look!”

“No promises.” But he doesn’t, instead covering his eyes with one hand. He hears the patter of feet and the rustling of clothes as Y/N retrieves the garment, then rushes back into the bathroom. When she returns, a moment later, this time she’s fully clothed.

“The pressure here is ace.” Y/N says, holding her fingers up in an appropriate gesture as she saunters towards the bed. She hauls her bag off and onto the floor, then climbs up, pushing the blanket aside.

“I can’t remember the last time I took a shower and didn’t want to get out.”

Dean lowers his hand and looks at her; hair wet and clinging to her skin, her face is bare, all the makeup from today washed away into the drain. A few pimples dot the surface of her cheeks and, although feint, there’s a single splatter of freckles just below her jaw line that Dean always finds himself admiring.

“That’s good to know. In other news: the sleeping arrangement. How’s this gonna work?”

“You mean top or bottom?”

“Grow up.”

Y/N’s grin never falters as she laughs. “I don’t really mind, Dean. If it bothers you, you could always take the floor.”

“I never said it bothers me…”

“Does it?”

Her eyes are staring intently into his and he’s trying too damn hard to not get caught up in them. He shouldn’t. the moment is far from appropriate. She’s basically telling him to get out of the bed and spend the night on the floor like a hound, and heaven be damned if Dean is going to let himself focus on anything but defending himself.

So he tips his head back slightly, locks his eyes on hers, and says, “Not at all.”

“Then goodnight, Winchester.” Y/N smiles, before turning the night-light off and wiggling further under the blanket.

Dean mirrors her. He slides beneath it, letting it came up to his chest and closes his eyes. He can feel the steady beat of his heart, the pulse of his blood. Sleep hovers over him like a phantom but never once dares to preside.

Minutes pass and he’s still awake. The elder Winchester fidgets, turning on his side, eyes meeting the bright glare of the moonlight invading the room. He checks his watch on the bedside table. Two am. Still up. His eyelids feel heavy and a yawn pries his mouth open, but Dean can’t sleep, and it’s an insomnia, the worst kind of insomnia, that he’s too familiar with.

He’s dabbled in it in the past; with the mark of cain and in purgatory. When he was demon, when Sam was soulless and when Cas was presumed dead. Dean knows this plague, greets it like an old friend, doesn’t even bother fighting it, but there’s no denying that it’s annoying. He wants rest—needs it. The last thing he needs right now is a visit from this phantom that keeps him up, staring at the blank ceiling.

A few seconds subside when silence is broken by hushed voice.

“Dean ar—you’re awake?” Y/N rolls over, her droopy eyes meeting his.

The elder Winchester nods silently. His eyes burn.

“How come?”

“I don’t know.”

“What do you mean you don’t know? You don’t know why you can’t sleep?”

“That’s what I just said.”

The sheets shift. Y/N props herself up on her elbow, looking at him, her eyes still swimming with sleep. He wonders what woke her, but remains silent as he turns to meet her gaze.

Y/N’s eyes are somber and intently set on him; there’s a weight on her heart for a moment, something that visibly bring out the worry in her gaze. “Nightmares?”

She’s been with him through all of them; all those times mentioned, all those calamites in his life, Y/N has walked through them with Dean. Consequently, she can tell when something’s up. It’s comforting for Dean to know that’s she’s so in sync with him, that they’ve got this visceral connection that alerts her when something’s up, but unfortunately now it’s a bit of a false alarm.

He shakes his head. “No. Just can’t sleep.”

“Oh…” She voices simply and within a moment the solemnity fades. Then comes the sound of the sheets shifting, Y/N sitting up and she turns on the nightlight. The warm light right away glares onto the side of his face. Dean squints, lolling his head to the side.

Y/N’s hair dangles around her face as she looks at him. “Anything I can do to help? Get a glass of water, sing you a lullaby?”

“Rock me to sleep?” He supplements.

She shrugs. “Anything.”

Then, chuckling, elder Winchester turns away and allows his gaze to float back to the ceiling. y/N continues to speak in the background, going on about the day and tomorrow and how everything’s going to go down so that everything turns out as planned. She’s notified Sam already, apparently. Unlike Dean, he won’t have to do much besides be himself and distract Marilyn for the weekend…

But for Dean, Y/N proclaims, it’s going to be a long two weeks: he’s going to have to do a lot more than he’d anticipated; more work, more fraud. For the following days he must wear his disguise as though it is anything but…and the funny thing? Dean knows it’s going to be elementary…

Because they can only get so much closer.

Because they, before today, already spent nights in bed chatting about everything and anything that came to mind; because he already used to walk inches close to her and comb his fingers through her hair and laugh and feel (God, did he feel), and so maybe this is going to be a walk in the park. Maybe it will be easy, Dean thinks—until he’s reminded of earlier at dinner and the gaping hole in his chest.


Part 4

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A little warning next Time? - [Eggsy Unwin X Reader]

[Alrighty anon!!! I love me some Eggsy, so fuuuuck yes. >:) This took me SOOOO fucking much longer than I wanted it to, like literally all day– and also went down so many different paths until I wound up here lol. Hope you like where it went! <3

About: Your boyfriend Eggsy comes home covered in blood holding a bag of guns… That doesn’t seem normal for a tailor…

W/C: 2.4 — sorry guys lol

T/W: As usual lots of cursing! >:)

Read on Ao3!]

If someone would of told you what you know now just over 18 months ago — things might have been a little easier to process. Maybe you wouldn’t have been as surprised or… you know, worried that you two might die later had a certain someone provided just a little warning.

Or perhaps you’d still be fucked — who really knew? The whole world of espionage was rather new to you, and it wasn’t everyday your boyfriend dropped something like this at your feet. This kind of shit only happened in those cheesy action movies Eggsy loved, right?

That’s what you thought before today, anyway… Before he busted through your apartment door throwing down a bag full of guns like it was just some dirty laundry; his suit ripped to shreds, completely covered in blood; his face just as busted to match.

“Babe, we gotta scram. There’s a fuck ton I gotta tell ya, but I ain’t doin’ it here.” He wasn’t looking at you when he talked, which bothered you more than anything else. The blood you could handle, it wasn’t unusual for him to show up covered in it. The guns however were a little more concerning. “Look, I gotta tell you somethin’, and I ain’t jokin’ luv, alright?”

“Yeah, alright…” You were hesitant, confused and even scared in that moment, but you were ready to listen. He was frantically grabbing things from your drawers and closet, paying no attention to what he grabbed — things you’d not worn in ages and stuff that made no sense to pack like, snow coats and other winter clothing.

“Don’t be cross, will ya? But, I kinda —”

For looking so fucking horrid, he sure acted nonchalant about the whole thing. A moment later he finally stopped shoving piles of clothing into your bags, pulling his eyes to meet yours. Eggsy was breathing quickly, and you could tell something was wrong even it not for the bag of weapons and his beyond butchered suit.

“What the hell did you do, Eggy?” You asked, and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t a little mortified. He looked like he’d murdered someone, had the shit beat out of him or maybe even both. You were frozen in place, the fear wrapping a tight web around you.

“Nothin’ babe…” This is when Eggsy looks down on his suit, finally seeing how terrible he looked. Your eyes started to fill with salted tears you wouldn’t let slip as he raise his hands and brows towards you passively. “I know how it looks, but I ain’t in trouble.”

You could tell he wanted to keep running around shoving shit everywhere, but that he was stopping for you. It was clear he could see that you needed to know what the fuck was going on. “Then what? Why are you packing my clothes… why are you all fucking bloody— again? And please, pleasedon’t lie to me… What the fuck is with the guns, Eggsy?”

Eggsy tossed a look towards the bag as he pulled his top lip between his teeth lowering his brows. He nodded softly as he run a hand across his chin in thought; deciding how he’d play this. “Alright… listen. I ain’t a tailor.”

When he said that you felt a strange wave wash over you starting from your debts of your stomach; spreading like an almost numbing pain as it fanned through the rest of your body in tiny pinpricks. You didn’t know what to say, so you just pulled your lips tightly together and crossed your arms hoping he’d elaborate.

“And I ain’t ever done a conference for one either…”

Here is the part where you’re starting to feel indignant, and you’re not even trying to hide the displeasure form your face anymore. For the next 45 seconds you completely forgot about the bag and the blood and you just wanted to know what the hell he was getting at. “What the fuck are you talking about.”

“I-I’m with…”

He didn’t finish, and it didn’t make sense but all you could hear was ‘someone else’. “With who?”

Eggsy stepped forward suddenly, his eyes were heavy and sung with pain at your words as he shook his head back and forth. “It ain’t like that. It’s just you, s’always been you, luv… you gotta know that.”

“What is all of this then, hm? What’s going on?” Your words were spitting out so fast you doubted he even understood most of them. But you were feeling at least 3 too many emotions right now and it was taking far more control not to cry than you wanted to admit.

“What I do— for work. It’s sorta like…” He paused sliding his eyes to the large cushioned bed his pup lay on. “Sorta like what JB does, yeah?”

“Your… dog?” You shook your head in almost a full loss of words, tossing the pug a quick look to match the confusion lining your voice.

For some reason though you were pretty positive he wasn’t referring to your 3rd roommate— at least not in the way it seemed. And by the look Eggsy returned as he stepped closer to you, it was clear you’d been right.

He took another step towards you shaking his head, his breathing was still hurried and you could tell his anxiety was raising with each second that passed.

After another moment you took a deep breath in, “You trying to say what I think you are?” All of the anger you felt began seeping off like a teabag in warm water, the feeling of realization spreading alongside it tasting sweet like honey.

Now he’s about a foot from you and his beryl eyes are as solemn as they come while he nod up and down briefly.

In that moment your bedroom spun out losing all form as you think back on the last year and a half in awe. Back to all of Eggsy’s suspiciously long work trips. The strange hours… the near constant blue brown color decorating his ribs and arms… You remembered every excuse he made like they were your own and you started to see it with perfect clarity.

Broke up a fight that’s all, luv… Tripped down a flight, babe…. Was just Dean again, don’t worry, yeah?

Saying you were confused wasn’t exactly accurate, you were well passed the point of normal confusion, and headed straight for the denial and padded room. Only you realize now that you sorta always knew what he was, even if you didn’t want to admit it. And if you were being honest with yourself, you may have even preferred that he was cheating on you to this insane shit.

Cheating would have been easy… You’d dealt with cheaters before: You cry, you cut them out and you move on. But this? This you hardly even knew how to comprehend, let alone process. Where’s a copy of The Dummie’s Guide to My Boyfriend Is a Fucking Spy when you need one?

You step back pressing your back to the dresser, steading yourself as you pull a hand to your head while the room focused in around you. As you scan the walls avoiding his gaze you see the photos from the life you built together. Each vacation and holiday, each smile and kiss… You think on the nights you spent twisted in the sheets pressed warm against his body; and to the coffee filled mornings with sleepy kisses and sloppy hugs. In a few seconds you remember it all, and as you slide your eyes to him, you’re not sure what to think.

“All your work trips? The odd hours… All your fucking cuts and bruises— whatever other bullshit you fed me… Those were all just lies?” Now you’re a mix between really fucking pissed off and maybe even a little turned on if you were being honest… But mostly, you were just sad. Sad and concerned. “Why didn’t you just tell me?”

“I couldn’t… shouldna now even, but I did and I’ll tell you everythin’ you wanna know, I swear— but not here.” Eggsy stepped closer to you, placing his hand in yours. When he spoke this time, you could tell he was holding something else in his voice… Fear. “You ain’t safe here anymore. We really gotta go.”

“… what?” Your brows lowered as you shot your face to his in an instant. You weren’t mad exactly or… were you? It wasn’t every day your boyfriend came storming in with enough guns to man a small army just to tell you he was a fucking spy or some shit. Oh, sorry, but also now your life’s in danger, don’t forget get that part… “Y-you can’t just— this is just a joke, right? This is our home, Eggsy… You can’t just exp—”

Eggsy’s eyes were deliberate and sever when he locked them on yours; and that made everything both easier and harder to understand. His lips were slightly parted as he pull his hands to either side of your face; holding you soft yet urgently between his fingers. “Babe, I ain’t fuckin’ around.”

His azure eyes seemed brighter as they flicked hurriedly between your own; you felt your heart pounding like a thousand drums as he finished, not breaking your gaze once. “D’you trust me?”

“Course I do, Eggy. But you’re just… you’re scaring me.”

He nearly interrupted you with fervid eyes and undertones purring in apprehension and guilt. “I shouldna lied to you— not ever and I ain’t gonna do it again.” Eggsy paused still holding your face gently, and now is the part where you’re really starting to feel anxious; but you merely nodded lightly between his grasp permitting him to continue. “Everythin’ I did was to stop all this from ever happenin’, you gotta know that.”

“I believe you…” You replied softly placing your own hand to the side of his his face, he was warm and his eyes flinched slightly when you touched his bruised cheek.

Eggsy kissed you then spreading his fingers through your hair as he pulled you closer. Pressing his mouth to yours more ardently than you’d felt it and you realized just how terrified he really was. So much so that he was nearly shaking… how had you not noticed it before?

“Can you still trust me?” He whispered quietly placing his forehead against yours.

You couldn’t managed to say anything back at first, but you nodded intently with eyes closed. Of course you still trusted him, but you were overwhelmed and frightened. It was hard to speak with your heart beating so loudly that you could feel it echoing in your ears. “Where are we going…”

“Somewhere no ones gonna hurt you. All’s you needa know is I ain’t gonna let anythin’ happen to you… I’m gonna keep you safe.”

You stared into those big blue eyes, dancing between specks of blood and tiny gashes decorating his neck and face. His hair was tossed, and he wore a pair of black rimmed glasses with a wide crack in the left frame. As you finish you wondered how much of that blood was even his…

Even with the scene before your eyes, your heart managed to steady in that moment… Eggsy traced his thumb lightly across your chin and lips holding the most doleful of expressions. You’d only seen that look on his face once since you’d met him.

Eggsy gave it to you and then he disappeared for 2 days last year… Before he ran off to do god knows what before the entire world went homicidal.

Thinking back to that day as you scan the face before you made you feel weird and almost sick to your stomach. As you continue thinking on the last 18 months, a lot of strange things started making sense to you.

“From what?” You finally managed to push out of the clutter of your mind. Part of you already knew what the answer would be and you know it doesn’t really matter, but you want to hear it in his voice.

Eggsy doesn’t say anything at first, he merely looks at you with brow furrowed woefully. His mouth was pulled back so far in a frown that your heart ached just looking at it and you couldn’t help but place a hand to his cheek.

“I promise I’ll tell you everythin’ I can… But it ain’t safe here, luv, I told you. We gotta go now.”

What else was there left to do at this point but listen to him? So you nodded diffidently as you licked your lips and snapped your fingers to the side calling JB from his bed. “Alright, Eggy… Lets get the fuck out of here.”

Eggsy smiled at you wholeheartedly, pulling you into a tight kiss before finishing the terrible pack job he’d started. You couldn’t say why you hadn’t listened to his pleading earlier. Maybe you were just tired of not getting any answers or maybe it was the nature of his confession and the manner in which he presented it to you…

Whatever it was, it wasn’t that you didn’t trust Eggsy. Of course you trusted him. You trusted him more than anyone. But he had dropped a bomb bigger than the nuke from Fallout on your ass and it was hard to just accept that you could go from hanging in bed with your dog to having someone on their way to murder you.

Something that big was bound to have a bit of an adjustment period, and yours was decidedly below average.

And all you could think was that this kinda shit only happened in those cheesy action movies Eggsy loved… This shit just didn’t happen to normal people. Not to you or your fucking tailor boyfriend….

Except it was happening. Here you were with a pug named Jack Bower in one hand and your tailor spy boyfriend in the other; staring reverently and incandescently at the blood covered man clutching a bag stuffed to the brim with guns.

You scanned the walls one last time wondering where you were headed or if you’d see the place you two called home again… But when he squeezed your hand, pulling your gaze to his you realized it just didn’t matter where you were or what you had with you… What mattered was that you had Eggsy, and that he had you.

Your home wasn’t a place, it wasn’t a time: it was him.

What’s his Name? (Taron Egerton Imagine)

What’s his Name?

A/N: this is set in the fictional world of ‘THE BREACH’ - by LAZY HABITS.

I hope you enjoy the imagine! Reblog, like and comment!


Sipping on a vodka tonic, you look around the pub packed full of drunk women out on a hen do night. There are a couple of men floating around, only one seems to catch your eye, though.

The blond haired lad sighs, running a hand through his hair, as he squats down to pick up empty beer bottles. He holds a tired expression on his face and you watch him curse slightly as one lady throws pink feathers in his hair. He looks up, catching your eye. You send him a sympathetic smile and he just gives you a short smile back before going back to picking up bottles.

Trying to balance them in his arms, he tries to get up. Seeing him struggle, you leave your post at the bar and run over to help the man.

“Thanks,” he mumbles, once you’ve grabbed a few bottles out of his hands. You both walk over to the bar to set them down.

“You alright?” You ask him.

“Yeah, just a tough night,” he replies, honestly.

“It seems it,” you say, with a laugh, and gesture towards the hen party.

He chuckles, be it sincere or not, you couldn’t really tell. “Yeah, hen do’s aren’t really my scene.” After a second of silence between you both, he asks, “you part of them?”

You nod. “sadly, yes. It’s a friend of a friend’s hen do.”

“Thought you, lasses, like a good hen do?” He sends a smirk your way.

You return an equally as cheeky smirk as you reply, “I’m not like your average lass, you see. I don’t like to drink much, so hen do’s aren’t my scene, either. I’m only here because of my mate.”

“Fair enough.” He goes to say something else but something behind you catches his eye. “I’ve gotta go. It was nice talking to you,” he trails off, gesturing for your name.

“Y/N L/N,” is your simple response. You give him a toothy smile.

“It was nice talking to you, Y/N. This has been the highlight of my night, I swear. I hope to see you again.” He grins at you, before pecking your cheek.

You look down at your heels, to hide the ever growing bright red blush on your cheeks.

“Wait, I never got your name!” You look up to see the mystery man had disappeared into the crowd.

Bringing the cigarette to your lips, you can feel the alcohol starting to take its toll on you. You can feel it streaming through your bloodstream and the buzz is getting to your head. You inhale the smoke deeply and then slowly blow it out. Going for another puff, you hear the exit door to the pub open beside you.

The gorgeous man from before steps out, placing a cigarette in between his lips. You watch him, with eyes full of lust, search his pockets. When he comes up empty handed, he sighs, deeply.

You aren’t going to lie. The man before you is fucking beautiful. His blonde hair sits perfectly on his perfectly shaped head. He has a jawline you could cut onions on, and if you cry, you wouldn’t know if it was because of the onions or because he is just so god damn beautiful.

He looks to the side and sees that you’re already looking at him. His eyes seem to light up and he smiles. Your insides go to mush at the sight of his lopsided grin.

“You got a light?” He asks as he leans against the wall next to you. His arm brushes yours ever so slightly and a jolt of electricity goes through you. He feels it too as he shakes his arm, subtly. You notice. However, it may just be the alcohol streaming through your body.

You hand him your lighter as you finish the rest of your cigarette, chucking it on the ground and stomping on it.

“How’s your night going?” He asks.

You lean on one shoulder, facing him. “It’s gotten a lot better actually, now that you’re here.”

Under the street lamp, you see his deep green eyes stare into you as he smirks. “You’re a lot more flirty when you’re drunk,” he states, as his face leans closer to yours.

Or is it just the alcohol again? You’re not too sure anymore; his presence seems to have gotten you a lot more fucked than what you were when you first went outside for the cigarette.

“You’d have to be stupid to pass up the opportunity to flirt with a man like you,” you reply to him, your eyes twinkling with mischief.

“I must say I’m flattered,” he whispers. His face has inched closer and closer to yours. His breath fans your delicate face, a mixture of alcohol and smoke hitting your nose. Your noses brush together, eyes flutter close and your lips connect to his lips for a brief second before the pub door swings open.

The green eyed man jumps away from you, causing you to sigh, sadly, at the loss of his warm body against your own cold one.

“Oi, get back in here!” The bouncer exclaims, using his arm to aggressively beckon him back into the pub.

The man grunts, throwing his cigarette onto the floor. He sends you a soft smile as he walks through the doors back to his living hell.

You’re left outside, craving his touch even more…and wondering what the fuck his name is still.

You watch the bouncer drag a blacked out girl, vomit around her mouth, out of the club. You feel sorry for the lass for a split second before being grateful that it isn’t you being dragged out like that.

The night isn’t even half over and shit is already going down. The drag queens, that are probably way under paid to be here, dance provocatively on the table tops as women stuff money in their underwear and pour alcohol all over each other. You watch them with a slight distaste.

Through the corner of your eye, you witness the bride and one of her bridesmaids stumble into the bathroom a tad too comfy.

You know what they’re about to do. However, you don’t care; they have nothing to do with you and you have nothing to do with them. They can do god knows what in that bathroom and you wouldn’t give two flying fucks.

You do, however, curse them silently as the urge to piss comes over you, but you can’t even go pee. Unless you are willing to walk in on some kinky lesbian sex. Which you are not. You’ve seen some things in your life, but lesbian sex isn’t one and you definitely don’t want it to be one anytime soon.

After getting yourself another drink and then mentally slapping yourself for 5 minutes straight for causing yourself the need to pee more, you see the bride and bridesmaid stumble out of the bathroom just the same as they did going in.

You do a little happy dance in your head and run to the bathroom before anyone else.

You slam the door shut and lock it. With your hands about to hitch your dress up to pee, your name said in a deep voice lifts through the air.

You jump and turn around to see your gorgeous lover from tonight. He is leaning back against the wall for support. He looks fed up, tired and anything else bad.

“What are you doing in here?” You question him, with a frown.

He points to the door. “I had to stop those two from necking it on.”


“It’s my job.”

“No, your job is to tidy up the mess those girls made. Not stop them from making mistakes,” you say with a hand on your hip.

Suddenly an idea pops in your head. An idea that one hundred percent would not come into mind if you weren’t drunk as fuck.

“How about this?” You start to say, a smirk growing on your face and your eyes twinkling brightly with mayhem. You step closer to him, and you swear he tries to step back but can’t because he is already attached to the wall. “How about I make it my job,” you step closer, “to make tonight the best,” you give him a wink, “and I mean, best night  of your life?”

Your body is now flushed against his as your lips brush his lips. His eyes flicker to your moist lips as you hear him gulp heavily and you feel victory inside you at the fact that you can make this breathtaking man feel like that.

“I know you need it, babe,” you whisper against his lips. Your hands slide down his chest until they hover above his crotch. “I can feel the tension.” His breath hitches as you give his cock a tight squeeze over his trackie bottoms.

“You’re right, Y/N,” he whispers, his voice lacing with seduction, and slams your lips together, closing the distance between you two.

Your lips move perfectly together, fitting like a jigsaw puzzle. His hands cup your face and you can feel him moan into your mouth as you continue to palm his member.

With a swift movement, he flips your positions so that you are now in between the wall and him. His hands move from your face to under your thighs. He lifts you up so your legs wrap around his waist. He works his way down, leaving kisses down your face to your neck. He sucks on your soft spot as your hands entangle themselves in his hair. You stretch your neck to give him more access, moaning slightly when he nibbles at the sensitive part. Your eyes are tightly shut closed, moans and groans erupting from your lips as you feel him successful leave a hickey on your neck.

“Come back to mine,” he softly mumbles into your neck. You nod and he lets you jump down from his waist. You’re about to leave the bathroom, but he grabs your wrist, pulling you back into his chest. He ducks his head down to plant another kiss on your lips and you continue to make out for a few minutes, your hands wrapped around his neck as his slide down your hips to your ass.

He’s the first to stop the kiss. “Come on,” he says, pulling you out the bathroom with a grin on his face. A grin that actually looks sincere and real for the first time tonight.

Your stomach flips and butterflies dance. Your heart skips beats as a genuine smile quirks up on your face.  Your head goes light and you feel like you’re on top of the world.

You’ve only met this man today and you already feel like you’re in love. Lucky to say, he feels the same way.

However, just before you’re about to leave the pub, you stop him from pulling you any longer to ask him a question that you should’ve asked when you first met him.

“Wait!” You exclaim. He turns back to look at you, his hand entwined with yours. He sends you a concerned smile as you ask, “what’s your name?”

He laughs deep heartedly, throwing his head back as dimples appear on his cheeks. Cute as fuck, you think to yourself, mentally gushing over him.

“Taron,” he simply says.

You stare at him for a second, almost getting lost in his green eyes, before testing the name in your mouth, “Taa-ron.”

“Yeah, Taron Egerton.”

“Taron Egerton,” you repeat. “Taron Egerton,” you repeat again, this time sending him a goofy grin. “I like it!”

He chuckles, giving you a grin. “And I like yours, Y/N L/N.”

You giggle as he tugs you by the hand, pulling you out the doors of the pub and down the road into the sunset…

And by that, I mean, his bedroom. ;)

In-depth Reflection on Kingsman: The Golden Circle (Spoilers)


After so much waiting, watching new promos and trailers everyday, I watched Kingsman: The Golden Circle today! The sequel to my favorite movie of all time! And BOY, I have so many thoughts. I am going to try to go as in-depth as I can, and as much in order as I can but BEWARE this is nearly a shit post with me pouring all of my feelings into it and will have random points all over the place, but mainly is me trying to process everything, this is A LOT (it’s 3k) and basically a summary of the movie 


Keep reading

Garrett and Marian - Legacy Banters
  • Marian: Well... not quite how I imagined this family reunion going. I was envisioning more hugs and maybe some wine over dinner. Not attempted assassinations
  • Carver: Really? You think this is so abnormal for our family?
  • Marian: Well you got me there
  • ---
  • Bethany: What could our father have to do with this mess? The Carta have had more than enough time to try and find us
  • Garrett: I imagine that having two Champions of Kirkwall with the last name Hawke may have tipped them off
  • Bethany: But it's been three years since you and sis defeated the Arishok. Why wait that long?
  • Marian: Well I don't know about you, but if I was going to go after the people who killed an Arishok then I'd probably want to make a little time for planning, wouldn't you?
  • Carver: Do these morons strike you as the sensible type?
  • Marian: Two points in one day Carver? Don't tell me the Templars are actually drilling some wit into that skull of yours
  • Carver: *laughs* At least /my/ wit makes a point, dear sister
  • Bethany: Ooh, that had to hurt
  • Garrett: Do you need some healing for that one, Marian?
  • Marian: Oh shove off, all of you
  • ---
  • Garrett: And we're back in the Deep Roads
  • Marian: Oh it's not that bad. I mean... Look at all the... Ugh, no, you're right this is terrible. Let's all promise never to go to the Deep Roads after this. Three times is enough
  • Garrett: Three times? When was the second?
  • Marian: Um... well...
  • Carver and Bethany: *sing song voices* Somebody's in trouble
  • ---
  • Bethany: Varric wrote to me the other day
  • Garrett: Telling another of his stories, I bet. Was it the one about the high dragon, because that didn't really-
  • Bethany: No. He was giving me an update. On you, actually. I was... worried, so I wrote to him and asked
  • Garrett: I'm fine Beth. Really
  • Bethany: No you're not. Not yet. But I know you, and if anyone can get past it, you can
  • Garrett: Thank you
  • ---
  • Carver: You might want to be watch yourself, Garrett
  • Garrett: How come?
  • Carver: Ever since you sided with Orsino the other day, there's been... Rumours. Meredith isn't happy with you, and it's only because she allows it that you're still free
  • Garrett: So is she going to have me dragged to the Circle, or is she getting the Brand ready now?
  • Fenris: Don't say that
  • Carver: I would never let it get that far. But I thought I'd warn you, just in case you were thinking about making her mad
  • Garrett: I appreciate you telling me Carver. Don't worry. I'll be careful
  • ---
  • *after completing Malcolm's Will*
  • Marian: So... the stonework down here is... lovely, isn't it?
  • Carver: Not now, Mary
  • Marian: I was only... Alright
  • ---
  • Marian: Are you okay, Gary?
  • Garrett: I'm fine... Just...
  • Marian: He loved you. And Bethany. He'd be so proud of you
  • Garrett: You sound so sure of that
  • Marian: Of course I am. Because it's true. And don't let that nasty shit in your head tell you otherwise - it's a liar, remember
  • Garrett: *chuckles* Alright
  • Bethany: Be careful sister, people might think you've got a heart after all
  • Marian: *dramatically* Oh no! *clutches chest* I think... I think I'm getting feelings! Quick, someone beat them out of me!
  • Carver: *laughs* You be careful what you wish for sister
  • Isabela: I'd rather ride them out of you
  • Garrett: Ah, and there's the dirty line. I was starting to worry something was wrong Bela
  • Isabela: And you're as sweet as ever, Garrett
  • ---
  • Varric: Twenty silvers, that's my final offer. Take it or leave it Elf
  • Marian: What are you betting on, and why am I getting left out of it?
  • Varric: You want in? We're betting on what it'll take to get Junior and Waffles to hug
  • Garrett: *groans* You're not calling me 'Waffles' again, are you?
  • Varric: I have to. Every time I say 'Hawke' all four of you turn around. I'm being considerate
  • Carver: I bet there's /someone/ here who'd like to see him covered in syrup
  • Garrett: Carver!
  • Fenris: *embarrassed noises*
  • Isabela: Ooh, new friend-fiction idea!
  • Garrett: Don't you even dare!
  • Isabela: Too late, already dared. Can we make camp? I need to make notes
  • ---
  • Varric: Hey, Rivaini, I'm expecting royalties if that friend-fiction of yours gets published
  • Carver: When you didn't even come up with it?
  • Varric: You wouldn't have brought up syrup if I didn't call him Waffles
  • Garrett: Maker save me...
  • Bethany: And me...
  • Marian: Usually I like dirty things... But this is too far, even for me
  • Isabela: Are you saying you wouldn't like it if /I/ were covered in syrup?
  • Marian: Oh I'm sorry. I didn't realise you were my very hairy twin brother, Bela
  • Isabela: Well when you put it that way...
  • ---
  • Isabela: I always thought we were the loud ones, you know
  • Fenris: What?
  • Marian: I know right. Maybe they're just less shy about it now
  • Garrett: Do I want to know?
  • Isabela: You already know. Or did you deafen yourself?
  • Marian: To think, they don't need us shouting encouragement through the wall anymore. I'm so proud
  • Isabela: Our boys are growing up so fast. Maybe next they'll master foreplay
  • Carver: Oh Maker, I do not want to hear this
  • Bethany: Neither do I
  • Garrett: *loudly* And I would be very happy if we could stop talking about this. Right now
  • Isabela: Yeah, see. That kind of loud
  • Fenris: *deadpan* If you're so fascinated by Garrett being loud, then you must not be doing a very good job at making Marian scream, Isabela
  • Marian: Oooooooo
  • Isabela: Oh, you snarky little shit
  • Bethany: *loudly* If we could stop discussing my older brother's and sister's sex lives, I would appreciate it
  • Carver: *loudly* Oh look, more darkspawn. Let's kill them so we can stop talking about this
  • ---
  • Marian: So our choices are the nice, Tainted madman, or the mage who wants to let a darkspawn magister out of his hole in the ground? Why can we never make nice decisions, like what kind of wine to have with dinner?
  • Fenris: I agree. It is the only decision worth making
  • Marian: When you're not throwing it at the walls, I assume?
  • Fenris: That was six years ago
  • Marian: And you never offered me a glass
  • Fenris: You are recycling jokes now? Has the great Marian Hawke's wit finally lost it's edge?
  • Marian: Ooh, you are just asking for it now
  • ---
  • Varric: You okay Garrett? You've been a bit quiet since-
  • Garrett: I'm fine Varric. There's more important things to be worried about right now
  • Varric: It's not easy to realise that someone you looked up to wasn't quite what you imagined. You ever need to talk, you know where my suite is
  • ---
  • Isabela: So... is no one going to bring up the fact that Varric called Garrett by his name earlier?
  • Varric: What are you talking about Rivaini? Waffles and I were just having a friendly chat
  • Isabela: Don't bullshit me. You called him Garrett. I heard you
  • Varric: That doesn't sound like me, Rivaini
  • Marian: He called you by your name when Velasco carted you off to Castillon
  • Isabela: What?! No fair, I didn't get to hear!
  • ---
  • Bethany: Are you sure about this, brother?
  • Garrett: It has to be done
  • Bethany: I could do it. I am a Hawke after all, and a mage. You don't need to-
  • Garrett: No, Bethany
  • Bethany: But-!
  • Garrett: Bethy, if I let you use blood magic, I'd never be able to live with myself
  • Bethany: And if you do it, will you be able to live with it?
  • Garrett: I'd rather it be me than you
  • ---
  • Varric: If he pulls a dragon out of his ass, I'm leaving!
  • Marian: Oh great, and now he's almost certain to pull a dragon out of his arse! Way to go Varric
  • ---
  • Bethany: Here, you didn't get a chance to close that wound earlier
  • Garrett: Thank you
  • Fenris: I just hope it was worth it
  • Marian: Well we /did/ just kill a darkspawn magister. I can't wait to hear how Varric tells this one
  • Varric: Well I doubt I'll have to exaggerate a damn thing, considering how weird this shit is
  • Fenris: That isn't what I meant...
  • Garrett: I'd have avoided it if I could, but someone had to. And if it meant sparing my little sister from that...
  • Fenris: I understand. But... Please, just be more careful from now on
  • Garrett: I will, I promise
  • Isabela: You two are so sappy... It's actually rather cute
No One Knows Part 6

Pairing: Eggsy X Reader

A/N: I mean… I really have no words



Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

Originally posted by laquing

Eggsy called Roxy first, knowing she was most likely back from her mission in Brazil. She answered after exactly three rings, sounding completely fine and not at all like she had just spent a week toppling a rising warlord.

“Roxy!” He shouted as he jogged after JB who was most likely on Bean’s trail.

“Ow, hello Eggsy. No need to shout.”

“There is every fucking reason to shout! Tilde hit Bean! He fucking ran! He’s not in my house, Rox! I need your help!”

“I’m on my way,” She said before hanging up. Eggsy took a sharp turn to follow JB into a park. He was not going to call Y/N and tell her her son was missing. He was already going to have to tell her Tilde smacked the kid, the last thing she needed to worry about was her son disappearing.

JB stopped to sniff the ground before trotting away again. Eggsy slowed, following the pug closely, anxiety bubbling through him. He stopped suddenly when he heard a soft sob. He listened quietly for the sound again before looking around at a bush. Small shoes were peeking out from a small area between where the bushes met.

Eggsy moved closer and crouched down to next to the small area and there was Bean, hiding his face in his arms with his knees pulled to his chest. Relief flooded through him, but he still felt like his heart was breaking for the kid.

“Bean?” Eggsy said softly. Bean peeked out from under his arm, tears still brimming in his eyes. “Hey, it’s okay… Come here.” Bean moved towards him and Eggsy wrapped the boy up in his arms, thankful he wasn’t gone for very long.

“She hit me,” Bean whimpered quietly. Eggsy stood, holding the boy close just as a car pulled up. Roxy immediately got out of the car, her poodle following close behind. Once she saw the boy was safe, she relaxed.

“I’m so glad you’re both okay,” Roxy said as she approached. Eggsy rubbed at Bean’s back as he made his way towards Roxy’s car.

“Can you take us back to my place?” he asked, opening the door for JB and Roxy’s poodle, which she named Armani. He got in the front with Bean hugged tightly to his chest. Roxy got into the driver’s seat and drove them back to Eggsy’s home. He carried the little boy inside while Roxy followed. He comforted him, gave him something sweet so eat and assured him that he would never ever ever see Princess Tilde again. Bean looked up at him with wide eyes, tears still ready to fall whenever the boy wanted.

“Are we gonna tell mum I ran away?” Bean asked quietly.

“Well… I probably should, but I think it’s more important we tell her Tilde hit you,” Eggsy said, looking nervously at Roxy. She nodded at them both, a grave look on her face.

“That would probably be best. Should I call her?” Roxy asked. Eggsy gave her a tight lipped smile and nodded. With that, she left the room, Armani right at her heels.

Eggsy sat next to Bean, the adult waiting for his impending doom in the form of a very angry mother and the kid sympathizing with him. They waited together in silence until Roxy came back inside. She only poked her head into the house.

“I’m going to go pick her up from the hospital,” She said before she disappeared again. Eggsy looked at Bean, making a funny face. The small boy smiled, but it still wasn’t big enough, so Eggsy continued to make faces until the boy had forgotten why he was sad in the first place. He gently ran a hand over Bean’s head, ruffling his hair affectionately. Eggsy wrapped an arm around the boy, lifting him up and bringing him up the stairs to his room. He set the boy on his bed before he showed him all his cool, relatively safe Kingsman gadgets. Though probably not a good idea, but Eggsy didn’t care. Bean looked happy to be seeing some cool secret agent shit.

“So, are you really a spy?” Bean asked, looking up at Eggsy excitedly.

“Yeah, but you can’t tell your mum.”

“What about Ms. Roxy?” he asked.

“Her too,” Eggsy said, moving to sit next to the child on the bed. Bean flinched when he heard the front door downstairs slam opened, but Eggsy just sighed. “Stay here okay?” Bean nodded and Eggsy left the kid, shutting the door behind him.


Y/N slammed the door open, fear coursing through her. She didn’t know what had happened, but when Roxy called saying things about they had an issue with Bean, she panicked. She looked around inside, not seeing her son before she moved forward, Roxy behind her. Eggsy came down the stairs then and she looked up at him, worry and panic in her eyes.

“He’s okay. He’s upstairs,” Eggsy said, shame clear on his face. Y/N looked him over, confused now.

“What happened?” she asked.

“Let’s… talk in my study,” Eggsy said, gesturing away from the stairs and back further into the house. Y/N followed him to a room overlooking the backyard. There was a large desk and a bookshelf. She looked at him confused. Eggsy sat at the edge of his desk, antsy and nervous and she was sure she had never seen him like that before.

“Eggsy?” she asked, but he didn’t answer.

“Tilde… Tilde smacked Bean on the wrist,” He said quietly, not looking her in the eye. It was like time stopped, Eggsy holding his breath and Y/N trying her hardest to process the words he had spoken to her. She blinked at him slowly before she felt it. Rage, pure red hot rage was coursing through her veins until all she saw was red.

“She did what?”

“She slapped his wrist for grabbing her ring,” Eggsy replied quietly.

“Where is she?” She demanded. Eggsy got off the desk, raising his hands up in a surrender motion.

“I told her to get out, love. Please, calm down. I took care of it,” Eggsy said quietly.

“Calm down? CALM DOWN? YOU WANT ME TO CALM DOWN WHEN SOME WOMAN YOU HAD HERE BROUGHT A HAND DOWN ON OUR CHILD?!” She shrieked, not even bothering to stop her voice from raising. Eggsy tried desperately to shush her, but she grabbed one of the books off the bookshelf and threw it at him. He smacked the book away from him with ease, which only made her angrier.

“How DARE YOU TELL ME TO CALM DOWN?!” She continued, grabbing another book to throw at him.

“Y/N, please. He’s just up the stairs-” He was cut off by her throwing a much thicker book his way. He ducked out of the way and it smashed through the window. Eggsy looked behind him at the broken window, surprised before looking back at her just in time to dodge another two books.


“You keep saying our child. What do you mean, our child?” he asked, looking confused.


“Hey! I did not let her hit him!” He defended, having to dodge some more books. It took him a second before what she was saying finally sunk in. “Are you fucking saying that Bean is actually mine?”

“OH MY GOD, YES EGGSY! HE’S YOUR FUCKING SON! HE LOOKS JUST FUCKING LIKE YOU!” She shrieked, tears starting to fall from her eyes.

“That entire fucking time you were talking about me? How I left you? How I was the reason you named him Gary? Are you fucking serious, Y/N?!” Eggsy said, voicing rising into a shout by the time he finished.

“You NEVER came back! You looked for me for maybe twenty minutes before you moved on to a FUCKING Princess, Eggsy!” She stepped back when he advanced on her.

“I searched for you before me and Tilde even started dating! I looked for you for months! No one was willing to fucking talk to me! Like I had the goddamn plague! I went to your fucking parents!” He shouted, backing her into the bookshelf. “They said you were fucking better off without me! That you had fucking moved on without ever even breaking up with me!”

“You went to my parents?” she asked, tears still falling down her face as she got quiet.

“Yes! They told me you fucking got married! That you hadn’t spared a second thought about me at all!” Eggsy was downright furious. “Why the fuck didn’t you tell me I’m the father?”

“You weren’t around! I was doing just fucking fine on my own!”

“You work a damn strip club, Y/N! How the fuck is that doing fine?” Eggsy snapped. She shoved at his chest to get him away and moved towards the door.

“Fuck you! I didn’t have to tell you anything! And I still don’t! Because if you haven’t noticed! Bean has grown up without a father for five years and he certainly doesn’t need one now!” She shouted, wiping her eyes.

“Wait, you’re not fucking keeping him from me after telling me I’m the father!” Eggsy shouted, anger turning into fear.

“Yes I am! You don’t get a say!” With that, she exited the study to go upstairs and grab her child, but stopped when she found him on the stairs. His eyes were watery and she immediately knew he had heard everything. She wrapped her arms around him and lifted him on her hip. Roxy was standing in the living room, her eyes wide as Eggsy came up behind the two of them. Y/N turned to glare at him before she grabbed her purse and stormed out of the house, her son looking over her shoulder at his father’s heartbroken face.

“Mum, but…”

“No, Bean. I can’t… We have to get home…”

“Mum, you’re crying…” Bean said quickly as he turned to look at her face. She wiped her eyes and continued on walking silently.


Eggsy sat on his couch slowly, eyes flitting about the room, but not actually looking at anything. Roxy sat next to him carefully, face contorted in concern. She gently put a hand on Eggsy’s shoulder and he looked at her.

“Did you know?” he asked, knowing she was much better at deductive reasoning than he was.

“Yes…” Roxy admitted.

“How long?” he asked, dropping his head to his hands.

“Since we first met them, I had an idea. He looks like you, Eggsy. But I got her to admit it a week later.”

“Why am I only finding out now? It’s been two months…” Roxy gently rubbed at Eggsy’s back soothingly.

“We’ll fix this, Eggsy. She can’t stay mad at you forever. Even about this.”

“Okay…” he said, but he sounded defeated and Roxy couldn’t tell what was worse. The look of hopelessness on his face or the dead look in his eyes.

“I misjudged you as an agent”

After your organization Agents Of Royal lost half of their agents during a big mission to protect the english royal family, you are committed to partner up with another British organization called Kingsman where you didn’t thought to meet somebody like Eggsy Unwin…

Warning: violence, cursing
Words: 4,012 words
Gary ‘Eggsy’ Unwin x Reader 
Part 1 in the ‘Royal Meets Kingsman’ series

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Seven Minutes in Heaven Eggsy Unwin x Reader

Pairing: Eggsy x Reader

Notes: This was a part of a longer 7MIH series I made. Don’t worry there will be another part to this one!


You were hosting a party for all of your friends, and (y/bff/n) made you invite your crush as well. Your other friends took advantage of that and kept trying to accidently push you two into each other, and it made Natasha Romanoff very determined that you’d at least tell him how you felt. One of your other friends, Alice Deane even used magic to make sure that the result of the game they chose to end up with you and your crush together. Carlos and Logan even jumped in on the fun by suggesting the game Seven Minutes in Heaven. You were about to kill all of them.

“I hate you so much.” You told those friends that were in on the plan.

“No you don’t Y/n. You love us!” Skye said a little to happily. Items were placed in a bag and as it was your party, you went first. Just your luck you pulled out a…

A Kingsman medal. Obviously the cheeky bastard named Eggsy Unwin is the one you were going into the closet with. The man that you’ve become close to with your work as a Kingsman agent. He was your best friend and as of late, you’ve developed a major crush on him. The two of you had been on many missions together and even served as the other’s backup. The most recent mission, Eggsy was to seduce a young, rich, and beautiful woman because of her father’s activities and illegal business. You were crazy jealous because you had only recently discovered your feelings for Eggsy and Merlin took notice as well. Roxy already knew, as you told her how you felt and asked her on what to do. She said to tell him right away because he felt the same way. Of course you didn’t believe her and didn’t tell Eggsy. That was two months ago now. In a way you were grateful that you hadn’t been on any missions with Eggsy in that time, but Merlin even came over to you and told you that Eggsy’s work as been subpar as of late. He’s been barely getting out without being caught, and Merlin said that Eggsy is at the point that he might have to be suspended in order to fix his problem. You refused to talk to him about it and him for the most part. Now nearly a month later you were forced into a closet with him for seven minutes.

“Y/n please talk to me.” He pleaded with you once the doors were closed.

“What do you want to talk about Eggsy?” You asked.

“Us. We need to talk about what the hell is going on.”


“This isn’t fucking nothing Y/n/n!”

“Than what is this Eggsy! What the hell is this? Tell me that because I need to know Eggsy!” You yelled as he became silent. He mumbled something that you couldn’t hear. “What was that?”

“I don’t know.” He said more clearly this time.

“You don’t know what Eggsy?”

“I don’t know what to tell ya! I have no fucking idea! It all started when you had to extract information from that bastard three months ago. He got so close and touching to ya that I wanted to break his fucking hands! Then you come out from his room nearly 45 minutes later? Did you let him fuck you?”

“Are you fucking kidding me Eggsy? You think that I’d just give him my body that easily? I ain’t a slut, you fucking prick! Well at least I didn’t leave Roxy abandoned in the Alps for an extra-“

“That was different Y/n.”

“No it’s not! You were being selfish and decided that oh, let’s fuck a princess and forget about my friends!” You said sarcastically.

“I was thinking about something before I was pushed in here with you, and this conversation told me something else. You’re fucking jealous Y/n!”

“Look who’s talking bub.”

“I was never jealous! I was just appalled by how my best friend would ever let someone touch her that way! Especially a creep like him!”

“Well at least this handsome creep was showing interest in me, and before he got handsy, he was very kind. Unlike somebody else that I know.” You said back as it became silent for a little bit as the two of you heard whispers from the other side of the closet door.

“We should let them out.” Alice said.

“No.” Roxy replied.

“They’re going to kill each other!”

“They need to know how they both are too suborn to notice each other, and that they are hopelessly in love with the other!”

“Look, they’ve stopped yelling at each other. Maybe they’ve stopped being so fucking stubborn and kissed. Or Y/n killed Eggsy, which wouldn’t surprise me after the shit he’s done, and before you even ask. No. He doesn’t know how much pain he causes Y/n by sleeping with all these other women.” Roxy said, and with that you punched Eggsy in the face. He hit the other wall and knocked some things over in the process.

“What the fuck Gary!” You screamed.

“I can explain Y/n.”

“No I don’t want to hear another fucking word come out of your filthy mouth ever again. Just leave me the fuck alone Galahad. I never want to see your face again.” You said as you banged on the door to have the others let you out. Not long after everybody left, and it left you to realize that tonight you had lost your best friend in the entire world. You felt terrible, but at the same time you felt liberated. You were so exhausted at this point that you fell asleep on the couch and didn’t wake up till the morning.

Next Morning

Your phone rang and it played In A World Like This by the Backstreet Boys. It was Eggsy’s ringtone on your phone because the line “In a world like this I’ve got you.” Always resonated with your previous friendship. You rejected the call and he left a voicemail.

“ I’m so so so so sorry. I can’t say it enough. I was jealous and all of that shit, but please forgive me. You mean the world to me and I need you back.” He slurred. The bastard only had enough fucking courage to call you when he’s drunk! Once it ended you saw that it was the 15th message that he left you. On top of the hundreds of texts from him and one from Merlin. The one from Merlin said:

No need to worry about working with Galahad. If you want you can be reassigned to the office in America, or just not work with him on any missions.

You quickly replied that you’ll go to America and that you are grateful for him doing this. Your phone went off again with another text from Eggsy.

Babe, please open the door. I’m freezing my balls off out here.

“Fuck off Eggsy!” You screamed so he could hear you.

“Please Y/n we need to talk.” He said.

“I don’t want to talk to you. Go away!” You yelled as you ran to your bedroom and slammed the door. Crawling under the covers you hid and cried your unshed tears from last night. Your body was shaking with your sobs and your questioning of why he would do this to you.

“Because I’m a fucking idiot, and too fucking stupid to know that you’ve felt the same way.” He said. You froze and sniffled trying to hide that you were crying. The bed dipped down as he sat beside your hidden form and rubbed your back while removing the covers. You quickly turned your head into the pillow to hide your tear stained face from him.

“Since you’re here, you might as well help me pack.” You said avoiding the conversation in general once you calmed down a bit.

“Why?” He chocked out.

“I’m leaving.” You said as you looked up at his heartbroken face and got out of your bed.

“Why?” He asked once again.

“To get away from you.”


“To America. So if you’re not going to help me get out of my house.” You said coldly to the man that broke your heart.

stripper au - seulgi / reader pt.2

Originally posted by wheeinthisish

part 2 of 2, the real fun begins *cue evil laughter in the background*

first time i’ve written something like this so i apologize for the lack of length. enjoy! here’s part 1 if you missed it. 

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thatgirl-who  asked:

"v" for horror/scifi meme. authors choice for characters :)

V - Making deals with demons AU

(slight warning for dub/noncon)

“Sit down, Eggsy.” 

Eggsy obeys, taking a seat opposite of Merlin’s desk. “Is this about my mission in Brussels? I mentioned in my field report that—”

Merlin silences him with a short glare. “It’s about Harry.”

Even though he had expected this to come up, Eggsy still tenses. “Harry?” he asks, as innocently as he can. 

“Eggsy,” Merlin says, “I’ve known Harry for the past few decades, and that is not Harry.” 

“What do you mean that’s not Harry?” Eggsy asks, trying to hold onto his faked ignorance for as long as he can. “Yeah, he’s different, but that’s because he was shot in the fucking head.” 

“Which, as we all know, has a slow survival rate, especially since the Statesman confirmed him dead. His brains were blown out—”

“Guess they got it wrong, then.” Eggsy shrugs, beginning to get out of his chair. “Look, I’m not looking a gift horse in the mouth, and I don’t see why you’re bringing it up months later. If you excuse me, I have a lunch appointment with him in a few minutes, so…” 

Eggsy.” Merlin doesn’t stand up or raise his voice, but his tone gets steely, as deadly as a weapon in his hand. “I may surround myself with science and technology on a twenty-four-seven basis, but I was raised for a brief time in the Scotland highlands with my grandmother who used to used to leave milk out for the fairies, along with a consistent environment of Catholicism, the you will burn in hell kind. In another case, I’d call it a miracle. But in this case…I suspect you’ve had your suspicions.” 

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The Honey House, Chapter 11

Break In


The truck ground to a halt, it was dark and it was time. Negan held his breath. He could hear people talking. Gary was in the driver’s seat of this truck, the passenger was a Savior named Seth. They’d both been given silenced pistols and instructions to shoot if the Raiders at the gate cause any problems.

Negan heard three muffled gunshots followed by the thwang of something hitting the side of the truck. When the passenger door opened nobody in the back of the truck said a word, nobody even breathed. The next noise was the clank of what sounded like a metal gate grinding open before the passenger door slammed shut and they started moving again.

Negan sighed, everyone fucking did. This was phase one of the plan and by the sounds of things it had gone fucking perfectly or as close to perfection as possible. The next time the truck stopped it would truly be show time and he could hardly wait. He hadn’t become the leader of the Saviours by running away from fights, he actually fucking enjoyed days like these. The adrenaline, the gun pressed in his palm, a dice with death made him feel alive.

The back door of the truck began to open with a clatter to reveal Gary’s grin shining brightly before there was a pop of gunfire and Gary’s face split like a coconut smashed against a rock. Bits went everywhere.

“Everybody out,” Negan roared, shoving people through the door. The worst fucking thing they could do was stand still.

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Laurels and Harts

          Eggsy had always dreaded meeting his soulmate. Not just because Dean was a homophobic prick, but because whoever he met first was probably gonna be angry; maybe decide they wanted nothing to do with him after all.

          There were stories about people with more than one soulmark. None of them ended well.

Harry… Wait- Harry, wait- I’ve got-’

          ’Two soulmarks.’ Harry breathed, and Eggsy hung his head, waiting for Harry to storm off. Instead, miraculously, there were fingertips tracing both names- and his eyes snapped open. Harry was looming over him, the leg between both of his still trapping him against the wall, and had both hands up and moving over his collarbones. His eyes were soft as his left hand rubbed against the dark lettering of the name that was not his own, a small smile with just the edges of his teeth visible.

          ‘Well, yeah, but I dunno who the fuck Laurel Currie is. Who names their kid Laurel? Ain’t that what those weird leaf crowns the Romans wore are called?’ Their frantic need to be skin-to-skin had been ruined, at least on Eggsy’s end, but that didn’t mean that the evening was over. Except, apparently, Harry finds something about this situation incredibly amusing. The small (adorable) smile had, at some point, broken into tight-lipped chucking and devolved into full-bellied laughter with Harry’s head resting against his own name.

          The other hand was still idly tracing Laurel’s name, over and over like he had traced already those letters a thousand times over with his eyes closed.

          ‘We’d been so worried that one of us would hurt the other, but you- you miraculous creature- you have us both.’

'Y-you mean I don’t have to choose?’

          'We’d never make you do that. Definitely not on any sort of permanent basis. We’re more of a turn-based partnership.’ The voice comes from the doorjamb, and Eggsy’s eyes meet Merlin’s. Well, he was looking at Merlin’s face- Merlin’s eyes were focused on Harry’s fingertips. Harry who was still giggling to himself and smiling like a loon, still tracing Laurel’s- no- Merlin’s name.

          'Yes, as much as I care for the bastard, Merlin and I have no desire for each other. No marks, either.’

'Just yours…’

          'What- wait a fuckin’ second- your name’s Laurel? No wonder you don’t let no one know. Shit, I’d erase that shit from everythin’ if I was you.’ Eggsy couldn’t tell you then their positions had changed, but he found himself standing (how was he standing?) all on his own, Harry’s hands on his hips and head on his shoulder from behind.

          'I did- but that doesn’t change whatever pseudoscience causes soulmarks. Neither does sexual orientation.’

'Wha- you ace then?’ There’s a slight tightening of Harry’s hands, a brief hitch in his breathing.

          'I’m on the spectrum. I don’t want sex all that often- more important things to be done- but when I do, lad…’ Merlin’s suddenly looming over him, and Eggsy is quite certain his knees would have given out on him if not for Harry’s support behind him. Merlin is intense and predatory and Eggsy didn’t think he could keep from Merlin any more than he could stop breathing. 'When I do, I’m ravenous.

          Merlin kisses like an eagle diving for prey, with singular focus and intense precision. Harry’s hands have left him, leaving him to sway into Merlin’s body for support, hands resting on his chest.

          'Kissing, on the other hand, is always acceptable. Now, seeing as we’re all handled here-’ Merlin eyes Harry and something Eggsy doesn’t understand is said but not spoken, 'I’m getting back to Bors’ feed. No rest for the wicked, after all.’

          'Well, I ain’t gonna force you or nothing, but you think when you’re all wrapped up we can have a cuddle? All- all three of us?’ Eggsy wrings his hands, unwilling to meet his gaze, but Harry pulls him back into his chest, rubbing soothingly at his sides. Merlin seems to melt a little, shoulders slumping so slightly Eggsy thinks he’s imagined it, before pecking his lips lightly and drawing away.

          'I think that can be arranged.’

–bonus excerpt from a couple years after Harry and Merlin discover they have the same soulmark–

          ‘You know, if the universe were particularly kind, he’d have us both.’ Harry’s hair is a mess as he leans against Merlin’s desk, unfolding and refolding a discarded sheet of paper.

          ‘Or particularly cruel, since we don’t have each other and I’m not at all attracted to your scrawny arse.’ Merlin didn’t bother looking up from his screen, the insult said with fondness and exasperation. ‘Besides, based on your past relationships, I’d say you have quite the possessive streak.’

          ‘Well, yes, I do. But, oddly enough, I don’t see you as competition. I’m of the opinion that we were given the same name for a reason. Unless he only has one of us, in which case I’ll hope for your eternal happiness.’

          ‘And I yours, Harry, as that’s the far likelier outcome… but if he did have us both, why wouldn’t you consider me competition? Don’t give me that “there’s a reason” bull, I want the truth.’

          ‘Am I not allowed to be sweet, or kind, Merlin?’


          ‘Well, that’s shit. Fine. The truth is… well, why would I be jealous? If the magic or pseudoscience or whatever put us both upon his skin it’s because he’s going to need us both. Why would I be jealous, when you wouldn’t be taking anything from me? It would just mean you’d be giving more love and support to Gary. Why would I begrudge you that?’ It’s a soft admission, and Harry refuses to look at him.

          Which was just as well, as Merlin struggled to keep tears from falling, touched beyond words.

Miss Missing You || Luke Hemmings

Originally posted by irweicake

Requested; Yep

Summary; Luke breaks up with you. A few days later you see him and Arzaylea together and she’s bragging about their relationship. Then he wants to get back with you.

“I don’t wanna goooooo!” You groaned over the phone for the billionth time.

“(Y/N) you promised, you can’t just bail on me now.”

Garret, your co worker, kept begging you to go with him to seeing Fall Out Boy. He did pay for the ticket after all and you promised him you would go.

But it’s been 4 days since your break up with Luke and the thought of going out made you die a little more inside. What’s even worse is that he has already moved on with this girl named Arzaylea. She crossed paths with you at a party a week ago, it’s crazy how you thought nothing of her and now she had him.

‘(Y/N) you’re so stupid’. Tears of humiliation blurred your vision as you mentally scolded yourself for being so foolish.

You tried to keep your sniffles discreet but Garret could hear you over the phone, “Look, (Y/N). I know what you’re going through, I’ve been there. Remember my last girlfriend? Yeah and you helped me get through that? This is me trying to reach out for you. You need a break, really treat your self okay? You deserve to be happy. Plus it’s a free ticket, free fun, just me and you. You’ll enjoy yourself I promise.”

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allaboutshannon  asked:

darcy/bucky, everyone knows they're dating before they do (if you're still accepting)

Bucky was anxious. They’d been overseas for two weeks now and he was eager to get home and leave mission-mode for a while.

For the most part, things were wrapped up. On the flight in, he was finishing up his paperwork, pen tapping on the table as he frowned down at the stack in front of him. 

Steve yawned from his seat beside him. “Getting a headstart?” he asked. 

He shook his head minutely. “Finishing it. Darcy promised she’d make tacos if I got all my paperwork in as soon as I got home. Coulson’s been bitching.” 


He hummed, scratching in an answer to one of the questions. “And some TV show she likes. She doesn’t watch it without me, so we’ve got a few episodes to catch up on.” 

“Really?” Steve’s voice was wry, his mouth tipped up in amusement. 

Distracted, Bucky didn’t notice. But when they set down back at HQ, he was happy to drop his paperwork off and catch the elevator up to Darcy’s apartment, leaving the others in the dust. 

“Where’s he going in a hurry?” Clint wondered curiously. 

“Darcy,” Steve answered simply. 

Nodding knowingly, he walked off to catch up with Natasha. 

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anonymous asked:

hey will you write me a little ace jim?? you wrote ace bones pretty dang well and relatable and stuff and i LOVE seeing cool people write cool characters as ace but jim is the asexual one in my brain and i was wondering if you could write me some cute cuddling or something??? pretty please!!

I’m glad you liked my ace Bones! Thank you for your nice words~ I’ll give it my best shot, tbh I’ve only thought of an ace jim in passing so this might be a little rough since I haven’t had any pre-planned thoughts about ace jim. We’ll see how it goes I guess! 

Very, VERY slight allusions to Tarsus IV and its effect on Jim. 

* * * * * 

The first time Jim kisses a girl, he’s ten and she’s eleven. It’s after school at the local ball park during a softball game. If he’s being honest, she kisses him. He barely has time to respond before kids are jeering all around them and Ruth is asking him to be her boyfriend. He says yes, but retracts it later when there are fewer people around. She spreads rumors about him for a year and he endures it silently until he skips a grade six months later.

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The worst thing about laying in bed by yourself, Harry thought, was when you were laying in bed by yourself desperately missing someone. He had been tossing and turning all night, much to the annoyance of Mr Pickle, who had managed to find rest, but although his mind was quiet, his heart was not.

He ached for another body next to him, to cut through the deafening silence with their quiet breathing, roll over and throw their arm across his stomach, pulling him backwards into their chest before slipping off back into oblivion. The quiet mornings as sunlight filtered through the curtains and painted their dirty blond hair gold and -

Harry cut off his own trail of longing, telling himself for what felt like the millionth time that it wasn’t like that, could never be like that. He never allowed himself to use pronouns when his imagination took control, perhaps to create an illusion of maybe one day settling down with a young woman who would have made his parents proud, but Harry knew that the likelihood of his ever feeling any depth of romantic notions for anyone other than a very specific coworker of his was extremely slim. In a profession like theirs one couldn’t afford to let a chance pass by, and Harry dubbed himself a coward.

Startled out of his self-depreciation by the sound of a key in the door and his yorkie jumping off the bed, Harry pulled on a pair of pyjama pants and rolled out from under the comforter, padding quietly down the hall, a gun hidden by his hip as he made his way down the stairs.

“Ow, shit,” accompanied by the clattering of something onto the tile sounded from the kitchen, and a small voice at the back of Harry’s mind told him to seize the opportunity. “Come here, ya little - Mr Pickle my shoes are not toys, they could kill you.”

Resetting the safety on his handgun, Harry rounded the corner to find a very disgruntled - and from the looks of it extremely injured - Gary “Eggsy” Unwin seated on his kitchen floor with a first aid kit open near by and a small dog on his lap. Were it not for the blood, Harry would have thought the scene unbearably domestic.

“What on earth happened here.” Trying desperately to keep the soppy smile out of his voice, Harry leaned against the door jam and watched as his fellow agent jumped in surprise. “Mr Pickle, go lie down.” He little dog jumped off the man’s lap and trotted down the hall and out of sight. “Need a hand?”

“Ta.” Eggsy took the offered hand and lifted himself off the ground, and then dropped heavily into one of the nearby kitchen chairs, removing his coat and cuffing his shirtsleeves while Harry moved the first aid kit to the table and began rifling through it for something useful. “Got a little waylaid on my way back to HQ post-mission, and the last thing I want is - jeezus, warn me next time yer gonna drop cleaner on me, will ya? That shit stings - the last thing I want is to have to go to medical again and have the nurses poke at me.” Harry hummed, intent on cleaning the blood from the man’s lower bicep to say much more.

“I would have thought a few thugs were no match for…” Harry paused, unsure of how he could end the sentence without being offensive.

“If you’re gonna say someone of my upbringing, then you’d be right, because I’ve taken more than my fair share o’ this shit. Just didn’t expect the switch, is all.”

“A knife did this? He must have been lucky to get close enough if he did this much damage.” Eggsy snorted.

“Lucky my ass, I was a bit more preoccupied with the guys shooting at me.” Humming again, Harry continued to clean the rest of his colleague’s wounds in silence broken only by their breathing and Eggsy’s occasional hiss of pain, burying the knowledge that he had touched the man far more in the last hour than he had in their eight and a half month span as fellow agents.

“You’re going to need stitches on this gash,” Harry said finally, looking Eggsy in the eyes. “Do you trust me, or do you want me to call a cab and head into headquarters for overdue medical attention?”

“I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t trust you, guv.” Eggsy replied, effectively ending the would-be dispute. Harry found the medical thread near the bottom of the bag and got to work, forcing himself to concentrate on what he was doing instead of how close they were sitting. Luckily for both men it didn’t require more than five, and soon the medical kit was put away in the cupboard where it made its home.



“Since I obviously didn’t anticipate having guests, I don’t have the guest room made up, but if you aren’t opposed to it, you can take mine.” Harry offered, awkwardly running a hand through his hair, suddenly very aware of his state of undress.

“It’s fine, you go back to bed, I’ll crash on your sofa.” Harry stared at the man before him in complete bewilderment, as though he had grown a second head.

“You just got off mission, when the adrenaline wears off your body will not thank you for lying in an uncomfortably position for several hours.” Eggsy’s brow furrowed and he pursed his lips.

“Why don’t -” he started, chewing his lower lip between his teeth before trying again. “Why don’t we just. Share. The bed, yeah? It’s gotta be big enough for us both to have space. Unless it’s gonna be a problem.”

“No, no problem at all. Follow - follow me.” Harry turned away from his impromptu house guest and swallowed thickly as he made his way up the stairs, leading Eggsy down the hall. “There’s a washroom just through here if you need it.” Eggsy nodded and, upon entering the bedroom, began to remove what was left of his suit.

“I’m warning you now, Harry, I cling.”

Both men climbed into opposite sides of the bed and laid down with their backs to each other, and remained that way for some time. For Harry, it was completely unbearable, because at once it was too much and not enough, because Eggsy was right there and all he had to do was roll over, but he was still so far - immeasurable far - away. Harry realized that missing someone in an empty bed, although painful, was nothing compared to yearning for someone who was in the same bed as you but you couldn’t touch.

Until. At some point around three in the morning, Eggsy rolled over in a state of semi-lucid sleep and wrapped an arm around Harry, pulling their bodies together, before sighing softly and nuzzling his head into the space between the pillow and the nape of his neck. Something snapped into place, like a fishing line once lax but suddenly pulled taught.

Harry couldn’t wait to see what the morning would bring.

17- Cookies

Hey guys. So, I’m still working on the number prompts, and all the other fabulous prompts you sent me. Thanks for your patience. Most of the number prompts I got were already excellently done by my fellow emus, but I’ve still got a couple in the works. I hope you like this one.

They’ve somehow managed to cover the entire kitchen in a fine mist of flour and sugar. She’s grateful they did this at his house, because her Mum would have totally lost her shit if she came home to this. Thankfully Gary is a different sort of beast.

“Right. Right.” He says, tapping the doorway with his fist, still in his suit, tie loosened and collar open. “I see you two are baking.”

“Dad, you’ve got to taste these cookies!” Finn cries, springing up from his crouch in front of the oven and grabbing a cookie from the counter.  Rae smiles into her mug where she’s leaning against the counter sipping tea. “Rae’s really good at making cookies, turns out.”

Finn hands Gary the cookie and stands in front of him expectantly while he takes a bite. Rae bites her lip and taps her fingers against the counter. It’s silly and adorable, Finn’s boyishness around his Dad, but Rae finds herself eagerly anticipating Gary’s opinion. She wants him to like it too, wants him to like her. It’s been a couple of weeks since they’ve gotten back together, and Rae’s pretty sure that Gary’s been just a bit colder towards her post-Leeds. She’d really like to buy back his good opinion with baked goods.

There’s a long moment of Gary chewing before he closes his eyes and moans in pleasure. Finn looks back to shoot Rae a dazzling grin. Rae looks down at the toes of her shoes, but she’s smiling too.

“Look, we made gingerbread and teacake, too. And there’s cupcakes in the oven.” Finn gestures proudly to the kitchen table, which is laden with sweets. He’s so proud of himself, it seriously makes her chest hurt. When she’d suggested making Christmas cookies this morning, she’d had no idea that he was such an enthusiastic appreciator of baked goods.

“This is amazing.” Gary shovels the rest of the cookie in his mouth and licks his fingers. Then he crosses the kitchen and grabs another from the plate beside her, turns to give Rae a warm, chocolatey smile. “We haven’t had real cookies in this house since… Well…”

He trails off, and suddenly Rae understands. This is their first Christmas without Finn’s Nan. She glances at Finn, who has turned to study his thumb as it rubs patterns on the tabletop. He shakes his head to flip his fringe out of his eyes, gives her a rueful glance.

Rae sets her cup on the counter, wipes her hands uselessly on her flour-covered apron. “I think I’ve got it in me to do one more batch. Is there a kind you particularly like, Gary? A recipe you’d like me to have a go at?”

Finn’s Dad studies her thoughtfully for a moment as he chews his cookie. Rae tries not to fidget. She so wants Gary to like her again and she’s not sure if this is the right step.

“There’s one…” He begins, but Finn interrupts.


She’s gotten better about reading him, or maybe better at trusting her instincts when it comes to him. It’s easier now that Finn tells her what he’s thinking. Finn shoots his Dad a pleading look, and the two of them have some kind of silent conversation that she can’t quite interpret, ending with a cocked head from Finn and a shoulder cuff from Gary.

“Here, Rae.” Gary reaches above the refrigerator and pulls down a well-loved wooden recipe box. He flicks through until he finds a faded and yellowed card, which he hands over reverently. Rae takes it carefully, studies the fluid cursive flowing across the lines. “Could you make those, do you think?”

She purses her lips as she studies the ingredients and looks around the kitchen to make sure they have enough of everything. There’s lots of flour, at least six eggs, and she knows there’s plenty of spices in the drawer. They’re finicky cookies, they need time to set, but she’s pretty sure she can do it. When she looks up, both Nelson men are staring at her with restless anticipation. Gary’s fiddling with his tie, Finn’s biting his cuticles.

She smiles. “Sure.”

Finn blows out a gust of air, but she can’t see what he’s doing because Gary’s suddenly enveloped her into a hug. He pats her back gently. When he steps back, he seems flushed and uncomfortable.“Right then. I’m gonna go get changed and er… leave you to it.”

As soon as he’s left the kitchen, Finn’s across the room and wrapping her up in his own hug. He rests his cheek against her hair when she wraps her arms around him, sways her back and forth for a minute. She leans back to look at him, and Finn bends to give her a gentle kiss. He tastes like flour and chocolate and cinnamon.

When he steps out of the hug, he looks around and claps his hands together. “Right then.” He says, full of enthusiasm and determination once more. “What do we need? I guess I should wash the bowls first, yeah?”

“Actually, I think those cupcakes need to come out.” Rae bends to peer into the oven, wrinkling her nose. Finn bends to see too.

She straightens out, grabs potholders and opens the oven door, releasing a wave of warm sweet-scented air. Finn groans and she glances over to see him licking his lips. Laughing, she pulls the tin out and sets it on the stove, carefully taps one of the cakes with her finger, nods.

“Are they done?” He asks, all eager puppy. “How can you tell?”

He stands behind her, puts his hands on her hips, his chin on her shoulder as they look down at the cupcakes. Rae smiles. “See how they bounce back when you touch them? That’s how you know. Really, we should put a toothpick in them, but I don’t usually bother.”

“Oh.” Finn nods, she can feel the movement against her shoulder. Then, before she knows what’s happened, he’s spinning her around, blocking the cupcakes with his body. “If they’re done, then we can eat them!”

“Don’t you dare!” She scolds, but it’s sullied by the laughter she can’t hold back. “They’re hot, Finn! You’ll burn yourself!”

“Don’t care!” She tries to wiggle around him, but he manages to get one out of the tin, wincing as he tosses it from one hand to the other. He spins out of her grasp, crosses the kitchen to the bowl of frosting on the opposite counter.

Rae clucks, scrunching her face up as he slathers a good dollop of frosting across the hot cupcake, which immediately starts to melt and ooze down over the wrapper. Finn gives her a wild-eyed smile and she laughs again.

“Do not eat that cupcake, Finn! You’re sweet enough already!” She warns. He waggles his eyebrows at her and then takes a huge bite, groaning in pleasure. She shakes her head. “You’re at least sixty percent sugar, already. You’re going to get sick.”

Finn moans again, mockingly shoving the rest of the cupcake in his mouth. “Urng… so good.” He garbles around his mouthful of food, frosting smeared over his chin. “You need ta try it, Rae.”

“Oh no!” She laughs, backing up as he stalks across the kitchen towards her. Finn grins madly, holds his arms out in front of him. She holds up a finger in warning, but he’s cornered her. She holds her hands up, pushes at his chest, but he leans over and rubs her gooey, frosting covered chin all over her neck. Rae shrieks, laughing as he rubs the sticky substance all over her neck, then angles over to kiss her.

She lets his press his lips against hers, opens up a little bit to taste the sweetness of the frosting over his tongue. It’s always easy to get lost in him, but she holds back. She ends the kiss quickly, grimaces at him as he smirks at her.

“Go!” She commands, pointing a finger towards the sink, knowing it’s softened by her irrepressible smile. “Go wash those bowls, or we’re gonna be here all night.”

Finn holds up his hands, walks backwards away from her, still grinning. “Yes ma’am.”

only gonna tag mmfdfanfic. :)

anonymous asked:

hi can you do one with Michael where you meet him for the first time & he sees your scars & how he would react but if you don't do these I understand :)

Since this isn’t self harm (like the act of participating in self harm), I don’t mind doing this one. WARNING: for anyone who is really sensitive to self harm triggers & also mild language.

It’s finally happening. Finally you get to meet your heroes, the ones who helped you through the ups and downs and ins and outs of your life over the past few years. Gosh, was it really two years ago you started watching these goofballs on YouTube? That was a really rough year for you, but thanks to 5 Seconds of Summer, it was a bit more bearable. They’re the reason you are standing here. “Form an orderly line, ladies!” The body guard at the front of the store yells for the six hundredth time. Some red head in front of you shoves you back with her elbow, making you stumble. You look down at your feet, repeating over and over that it is worth the shuffling and shoving just to get to see them, even if they only say hello and ask you to move on. You swallow, walking forward in line with your notebook clutched in hand. You didn’t have enough cash to buy their new EP and you really wanted them to sign something for you, so you brought the next best thing: your thoughts journal. “Back up, you’re breathing down my neck!” The redhead sneers, shoving you yet again. You sigh and try to scoot back as much as possible, pulling your sweater sleeves down over your arms, attempting to protect the tiny marks lying just under the thin material. It’s not as bad as usual, this week was a bit easier because you knew today would come. The redhead pushes herself through the door and the guard holds up his hand. “Alright,” the guard closes the door, “That’s all we can take today. Thank ya for comin’ down, the boys appreciate your support.” Your mouth goes dry. What?! “Excuse me,” you say timidly, “The flyer on the website said anyone could come meet them free until noon.” He nods, his beefy arms crossed over his chest, “Yeah, look there.” The guard nods towards the big metal close hanging on the wall above the food court. Noon. Your lungs feel as if they’ve been stepped on and torn out. He pats your shoulder harshly, “You can always come down and see them at tonight’s show, girlie.” You nod, your jaw opening and closing as the rest of the line behind you disperses, grumbling and cursing. You can’t force your led legs to move, you can’t just walk away because it literally feels as if your heart is laying on the ground. “You have to move,” The guard says. “Hey!” The cheer comes from just behind the door, “Move Gary. I want Panda Express, damn it!” You look up and there behind the glass is Michael Clifford. Gary turns around and shakes his head, gesturing to you, “No can do, Michael.” Michael rolls those pretty eyes and winks at you, “She can come too, she’s pretty cute.” Gary looks between you two and then nods, stepping aside. Michael comes out and looks you over appreciatively, although you can’t see why. “Where are the others?” You ask timidly. Michael smiles and shrugs, “I think they went back to the hotel to play FIFA, but I’m starving so I skipped out. Glad I did, now.” You blush and look at your feet. Is this really happening, or did that girl just elbow you harder than you thought? Michael reaches down to grab your arm and you flinch, pulling back. His eyes flick down and then back to your face, “Come get lunch with me?” You know that he knows what just happened and it makes you uneasy. This is exactly what you didn’t want to happen, you wanted this day to be about them, not you. “I don’t have any—” Mikey reaches for your fingers this time, lacing them, “Come on, then.” You walk hesitantly with him to the food court, your notebook tucked under your arm as you go through the line. Michael leads you to a little table, sitting down and setting the tray in between you two. He pops open the lid of the chicken fried rice and hands you a fork. “So,” Michael says in between bites, “You like the band?” You nod, “I do, you guys are amazing.” He nods, drinking half of his drink in one gulp, “You’re too kind. You’re the amazing one, though.” You raise your eyebrow, “What do you mean?” He suddenly reaches across the table and grabs your arm, startling you. Mikey pushes up the corner ever so slightly, “This. I can’t imagine the shit you have to go through to feel this way.” You look at the small scratches near your wrist and look away, “I-I’m sorry.” He shakes his head, “Why are you sorry?” You pull your sleeve back down and gnaw on your lower lip, “I didn’t want today to be about this. I wanted to meet you guys and thank you for being so amazing. I didn’t want to be one of those girls who ask you to kiss their scars and make them feel beautiful or be their cure.” Michael runs a hand through his black and red hair before grabbing your hand in his own again, “I’m proud of you for staying strong and I’m honored that you would come here just to support my stupid little band.” Your eyes flick towards him, “They’re not—” He chuckles, “I know, we’re alright.” He’s so nice and lovely, it’s exactly what you pictured in your head all these years and now here you are with your fingers locked in his. You feel like you could take on the world. Michael brings your hand up, pressing his full lips to the space between your wrist and palm, “You don’t need us to make you better, you’re doing it all on your own. When you do conquer it, you’ll have only yourself to thank, dear.” Your pulse throbs in your temples as your skin turns pink. He grabs your notebook and opens it up to a random page, scribbling before handing it back to you. You look down at the scribbles, “Stay strong, beautiful xx - Michael Clifford" followed by a string of digits and a small heart. “What’s this?” You point to the number. He smirks, “The number to my hotel room, I suppose you’d like to meet the rest of the band, then? Not just me.” You nod vigorously, “Yes.” Michael nods finally, “Good. Personally, I think no date is finished without a round of FIFA.” Date?! God, this is better than you thought. 

RvB: Ghosts

“How does that work,” she asks, and Epsilon can hear her eyes narrow.

“It’s not like you’re a chatterbox, Carolina. A man’s got needs. Like conversation.” He shrugs his small shoulders.

“But you are just talking to yourself.”

“Everyone talks to themselves,” he says, defensive. “I answer. It doesn’t have to be a thing.”

She thought long and silently. “And you have everyone in there?”


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