↬ Summary: There’s a darkness to your city, a murderous underbelly filled with crime and deceit that you’ve sworn to avoid at all costs. But the universe has funny ways of forcing your involvement in the form of a notorious mob boss and his young daughter. ↬ Pairing: Jeongguk x reader ↬ Genre: mafia!au ↬ Rating: Mature (for themes; subject to change in later chapters) ↬ Word Count: 7.770
Trapped on the cusp of dreams and reality, you can almost imagine your phone isn’t ringing beside you. In your dream, you’re running. Running away from something faceless, but large, and for a good second you’re able to think the ringing is your screaming, but when your screaming stops and the ringing does not, you force one eye open through the haze of sleep and reach for your phone.
It’s not on the table next to your bed, so when it stops ringing you think you’re in the clear, flopping back onto bed, but then it starts up again, and you curse loudly. The phone’s hidden in your sheets by your hip, and before you can even get the device to your ear, your brother is speaking.
Or rather, spitting, “What the fuck are you doing?”
You snort, trying to bury your face into your pillow. “What a wakeup call, Taehyung.”
“Sorry.” He sounds angry, but you pay it no mind. Taehyung leads with his emotions, acting first and thinking second. If something’s worked him up, he’ll confront the problem as quickly as possible, as is made evident by his call at- six in the goddam morning, what the hell? “Good morning, love. Sleep well?”
“Until now? Yes.”
“And you call me rude,” Taehyung laughs. “Happy now? What the hell are you doing?”
You thank any lucky stars there may be that you don’t have any classes today, and can hopefully sleep again after you finally calm Taehyung down. “Elaborate.”
I’ve been working hard on commissions since I was in florida and continued when I returned home a couple days ago, but I’m a lot shorter than I thought after calculating all my earnings together (via commissions and patreon) …patreon=$200, this weeks commissions before rent is due=$100 so I’m about $200 short on rent. (Rent is $505+)
Believe me, I looked for other places to live since our rent is up next month, but there isn’t anything that is both safe and cheaper around Charlotte or within driving distance of Chase’s work. It fucking sucks.
I’m sorry to as this but I’m opening my donations up again to make rent.
Commissions are always open so message me or donate if you’d like to my email:
I FINALLY have a job interview so hopefully I don’t need anymore damn help haha thank you guys!! And I’m so sorry again! If you need or want any proof I’m struggling I’ll try to provide if you message me ~
A/N: An anon request where Spencer and the Reader take a bubble bath together! @coveofmemories
As you walked up the steps to your apartment, you couldn’t think of anything you’d rather do less than lift your foot up another step. Everything in your body hurt today, your muscles felt heavy and your bones felt like they were grinding against each other like sandpaper. Thankfully, you had off the day after tomorrow and so did Spencer, but once you got inside, you were going to plop down into the couch and not move for a few hours. “Hi honey!” you called out. As you collapsed into the couch, Spencer came walked out, laying his suit jacket over the back of the kitchen chair and undoing his tie.
“I figured you might want a bath after a tough day,” he said, kissing your forehead. You’d been texting him all day to tell him how horrible you felt and how your manager needed to go suck a dick. You inhaled and the sweet scent of lavender and sighed. It did sound and smell fantastic, but…you didn’t want to move. “I’ll carry you there if you want.” Your boyfriend was a godsend.
“Yes, please,” you smiled, reaching your arms up to wrap around his neck. Spencer carefully carried you inside and placed your feet on the floor. “You gonna join me?”
Apparently, he hadn’t been planning on it. He made it up for you, but right now you couldn’t think of anything better than sitting in a warm, deliciously-scented bubble bath with your boyfriend. “You want me to?” he asked softly. “Then I will.”
Within two minutes, Spencer had stripped himself and you of your clothes and dipped you into the warm water. The scent traveled up through your nose and relaxed you immediately. When he stepped in behind you, you leaned forward, allowing him room to pull you against him. “This is so nice,” you mumbled, leaning against his chest. “Bad day. Boss sucks. Everything hurts. But not anymore. Because you don’t suck. You’re amazing.” Gently, you lifted his hand from the tepid liquid and kissed his palm.
He pulled your hair to the side and kissed the crook of your neck. “What’s wrong with your boss now?” he asked.
“Same old, same old. He’s a creep, and he’s rude, and he denied me my lunch break today, which is totally illegal, but I need the damn job, and I had to sneak eat my lunch because I was about to collapse and I just hate him so much. Nothing new, just driving me crazy,” you said, your voice not changing in pitch at all. The water was enveloping your aching muscles and the lavender smell was lulling you off to sleep. You cared about very little right now, including your boss, he was too much of a dick to waste energy on.
For a few moments, Spencer said nothing and just rubbed your palms with his thumb and forefinger. “You should quit,” he said softly as he gathered his arms under your breasts. “We live together. I can handle our bills while you look for something else.”
It was a nice thought, but you weren’t sure about putting that burden on him. “That’s a lot to handle,” you said. “What if I can’t find anything for a while?”
“I have some money stocked away, and I make okay money doing what I do.” He turned your head into him and pressed a kiss to your lips. “You’ve been coming home pissed off and in pain constantly lately, and I hate seeing you like that. You could quit, look for another job, and then when you find something you can start in on the bills again.”
“Are you really sure?” you asked. The idea of quitting brought unbelievable joy to you, but you never wanted to hold out too much hope. He nodded and you could’ve cried. “Then I’ll quit!” With the most animation you could muster given your relaxed state, you raised your arms in the air. “Thank you so much.” You had no idea what you’d do without him - or what you’d done to deserve him.
The water was starting to cool down, so Spencer reached over and added some more hot water, as well as some bubble bath to go with the salts he’d put in earlier. Now that you knew tomorrow was going to be your last day, because dammit if you were going to miss the look on your boss’s face when you quit, your bath became much more lighthearted. The bubbles started to overflow and you picked them up, giving your boyfriend a bubble beard while he gave you a nice bubble up-do. “You look gorgeous,” he laughed.
“And the bubble beard suits you, my love.” Since you’d turned around, you were now in a much better position to have a bubble fight, which was much more fun than work. The water started to cool again as your bubble fight came to a close.
Spencer hopped out and dried himself off. He told you not to move; he’d pick you up again. “Excuse me for one second,” he said after pulling on his pajama pants. A minute later, he returned with a freshly laundered towel that he wrapped around you as he picked you up. “Couch? Bed? Where should we go?”
“I’m thinking of not wearing clothes for the rest of the night,” you laughed. “How about the couch and wrap me up in a blanket. We can watch a movie?”
He smiled down at you, kissing your forehead as he laid you on the couch. “That sounds great and tomorrow you can go into work and tell your boss to go fuck himself.”
“Can I get another bubble bath tomorrow? In celebration?”
You were just so relaxed right now, you knew it had to become a tradition. At least once a week.
Rap Monster : “To make the world a better place and to-” *falls off chair* “Uhm, uh” *tries to act cool* “I meant for that to happen, yeah…”
J-Hope : “I’ll support all your employees with their emotional instability!”
Suga : “Sir, I’m just gonna be honest with you…I just need money, so give me the damn job.”
Jimin : *rips off shirt*
Boss : “HIRED!”
V : *mutters* “I’ll have access to a vending machine 24/7, which means more food.”
Jungkook : *gives a normal response and actually gets the job*
Jin : “Sir, I have 5 children at home plus a husband that acts like the six child, okay?!? I need the money, but I also need to escape that hell. So in other words, CAN YOU NOT QUESTION WHY I NEED THE DAMN JOB?!???”
Summary: Bones x Reader. Bones has been unbearably moody for a couple of days and you are sent to try and find out why.
Word Count: 2500
Warnings: Swearing, mild parental angst
A/N: This started as a ‘five times…’ idea for a Bones and Reader developing relationship, but got a bit longer than I intended. So this is part 1 of 6. I have not written for a long time, and this is my first reader insert. Be gentle!
“That man is impossible!” Christine Chapel declared as she stalked out of the CMO’s office and the door swooshed shut behind her. “Stubborn as a damned mule and twice as ornery! I swear I am this close to inflicting some kind of untraceable bodily harm on him!” Christine leaned in towards you gesturing with her thumb and forefinger a mere half inch apart.
“Untraceable except for the fact that you just told the whole medbay. I think, technically, that counts as pre-meditation.” You pulled a chair out at the nurse’s station and encouraged Christine to sit down. “What did he do now?”
“There’s a whole damn list, but the cherry on the fucking top was him telling Nurse Edouwu he is, and I quote, ‘a damned incompetent jackass who couldn’t tell a protoplaser from a petri dish’ and then yelling at me to ‘get my goddamn nurses under proper supervision before they fucking kill someone!’ I am the best damned nurse in the Fleet, and I did not sign up to put up with his shit.” The Head Nurse slammed her padd down on the desk with enough force to make you wince.
Doctor McCoy had a reputation for being a hard taskmaster, and for general grumpiness, but his behaviour over the last couple of days had been out of character even for him. His usual serious demeanour was now downright murderous. Nothing was done fast enough, or to his impossibly high standards. Nurse Edouwu was not the first of the medbay staff to feel his wrath, and everyone had been treading on eggshells waiting for the next explosion.
If any further proof of how bad things were was needed, it was sitting slumped over the station in front of you. Christine Chapel, normally a beacon of competence and serenity, bringing order to chaos, and hitherto a McCoy-wrangler extraordinaire had used the f-word. Twice. You perched on the desk next to her, eyeing her with concern.
“This is way beyond the boss’s usual grousing,” you observed. “The crew know it too. Ensign Matthews, you know, the big guy from security, practically begged me to fix him up without calling the doctor. He single-handedly took down four Sindarian rebels on that away mission last month, and he was terrified of McCoy. Did you ask what’s got his tricorder in a tangle?” Christine snorted.
“Didn’t exactly get the chance. He was too busy tearing me a new one.” This was bad. Chapel and McCoy were usually a well oiled machine. The nurse looked up at you speculatively, “You know, maybe you should try talking to him.”
“I value my current state of existence too much,” you laughed.
“I’m not joking Y/N,” Chapel sighed running her hands through her usually immaculate blonde bob. “I’m at the end of my tether - contemplating criminal actions, remember? The Captain’s not back for another two days or I’d be begging him instead. You seem to have a way of getting patients to open up to you, and so far you’re practically the only nurse to have avoided being in the eye of the shitstorm. You must be doing something right.”
“I have an uncanny ability to know when to duck and cover,” you deadpanned.
“Yeah. Well think about it, please! I’m going on my break, can you at least hold the fort here? Maybe the urge to stab his annoying ass with a hypo of sonambutril will have dissipated by the time I get back.”
“Sure thing Chris.” Chapel hauled herself out of her chair and beat a hasty retreat, leaving you alone at the nurse’s station. The rest of Alpha shift seemed sensibly to have found things to occupy themselves in the lab or the stores.
Getting up from your perch you crossed medbay to listen at McCoy’s office door. There was no discernible sound from within the lair of the dragon; perhaps having dispatched his most recent prey his anger was sated for the time being. Christine was right though, the current situation was untenable and something needed to be said. As one of the newest medical staff you weren’t quite sure you merited her confidence, McCoy had hardly discussed anything other than work with you barring the most fleeting mentions of family or shipwide gossip. He didn’t give much away. But you knew you were good at your job and he would have no reason to find fault with you for talking to him.
Except for calling out your superior officer for being an asshole. You tried to tune out the annoying voice in your head, there was nothing wrong with offering a sympathetic ear. Nobody was going to be calling anyone out, despite the level of assholery reaching Defcon 1.
In the spirit of peace and reconciliation, you decided that a gesture of goodwill was probably necessary and replicated up the biggest strongest black coffee possible in McCoy’s favourite ‘My Daddy is the best space doctor’ mug. It had clearly been personalised by a much younger Joanna, who had painted a little stick man with a blue shirt, a shock of brown hair and a disproportionately large stethoscope, and signed it with a handprint. It had always amused you that the stick McCoy wasn’t wearing any pants.
Summoning up your courage you knocked on the doctor’s office door and waited to be admitted to the belly of the beast. Something was barked from within and you took it as a sign to enter.
McCoy was sat behind his desk, elbows resting on the glass top and head in his hands. He was surrounded by piles of padds, interspersed with empty coffee mugs. A plate with a half eaten and unidentifiable sandwich teetered precariously on the edge of the surface. He appeared to be studying one padd in front of him with particular intensity.
“Dammit Chapel what do you want now? I said my decision was final, and what part of do not interrupt me do you not understand?” the doctor snapped without looking up.
“Um, sorry sir but Chapel went on her break after your…er…meeting. It’s nearly the start of Beta shift and I thought maybe you could use a coffee?” You hung back in the open doorway so as not to appear threatening, and offered the mug out to McCoy.
At the sound of your unexpected voice, he looked up. He had clearly been brooding about something. Frown lines seemed etched across his forehead and his normally precisely parted hair was sticking up in all directions. He looked surprisingly like stick McCoy. Except with pants.
He regarded you suspiciously for a moment. You were glad he couldn’t tell you were thinking about him sitting behind his desk with no pants on. “Either come in or go away Y/L/N. Stop loitering in the door,” he bit out. “Did Chapel send you in as her damn spy?” You fought the urge to turn around and leave him to stew.
“No. I was trying to be nice. It’s a somewhat underrated quality.” You arched your eyebrow at McCoy, approaching his desk to set the mug down. He sniffed at it and grunted something that you chose to interpret as thanks. “Besides, I think Christine is way beyond spying. You would do better to ask if she’d poisoned your coffee.”
He scowled, jabbing a finger in your direction. “I don’t need niceness, I’m too damn busy doing my job to worry about treading on a few toes. And I don’t need to be lectured by one of my junior nursing staff. I simply expect all of you to do your damned jobs too. If anyone has difficulty with that concept, they can get the hell out of my medbay! Is that a problem Nurse Y/L/N?”
McCoy sat back in his chair and watched you as you digested his words, an unreadable expression on your face. Was being left the hell alone to contemplate his own inadequacies too much to ask? To his surprise you pulled out the chair opposite him and sat down with a sigh.
“Well, if you don’t need niceness, I won’t sugar coat this Doctor McCoy. No, I don’t have a problem with doing my job or being expected to do it to a high standard, that’s only fair. And, even if you have a questionable bedside manner and are terrible at being diplomatic, you’re a good doctor and usually fair. But, scaring patients, expecting the impossible from staff and making them cry when they don’t achieve it, bellowing unreasonable orders? Whatever is going on with you, frankly, right now you’re just behaving like an ass. Sir,” you added as an afterthought. So much for not calling him out. You might as well have lobbed a pulse grenade into his office.
McCoy was staring, speechless, eyebrows raised at an impossible angle. Hell, he’d been surprised anyone had the nerve to interrupt him for anything less than a breakout of Teenaxian plague. But for you, the newest member of his staff, to swan in with your coffee and your sass and coolly point out the deficiencies in his conduct like he was some misbehaving toddler, well, he just couldn’t find the words. Any words. Finding himself in this unfamiliar position he emitted an indecipherable growling sound and picked up the cup of coffee.
Taking a long sip, he tried to buy some time to formulate a response. He should write you up for insubordination. But dammit if his conscience wasn’t sitting pretty as you please in a pristine nurse’s uniform just over the desk. One corner of his mouth twitched in a fleeting half smile at the absurdity of it. You had a point. It was not that McCoy was completely oblivious to the effects of his black mood, but he was worried and distracted and he hadn’t been able to bring himself to care. Now he felt like twice the failure.
The thick silence between you drew on and you fidgeted uneasily in your chair. As he scrutinised you McCoy’s expression had shifted from shock, through something you couldn’t place and finally settled into a frown. He glared at the mug in his hands.
“Have you ever had your heart broken Y/L/N?”
Well that was not the response you had expected. “Uh… I guess so. I mean yeah?” Shit. Had he been dumped? How the hell were you supposed to counsel your superior officer about his love life? “Is that what all this is about…sir?” Your voice squeaked a little and you felt your cheeks heat.
The Doctor’s eyes flicked up and met yours in confusion. “What?” His face flamed as he realised the conclusion you had drawn, “Hell, no! I’m not mooning over some damn woman!”
You should have realised that. From what you had seen, McCoy never seemed to be away from the medbay for long enough to pursue any kind of romantic attachment, and on the occasions you had crossed paths in the rec rooms he was invariably with the Captain and Commander Spock.
McCoy regarded you, trying to decide whether to continue with this mortifying conversation. Eventually he sighed, shutting himself in his office hadn’t helped. He indicated to the padd in front of him, pushing it in your direction.
“It’s Joanna. She sent me a message two days ago to tell me she broke up with her first boyfriend. I’ve spent the last two days trying to work out what the hell to write back to make it better. My baby girl is hurting and I’m halfway across the damn galaxy. I can’t do a damn thing. I’m goddamn useless Y/F/N.”
You glanced over the comm from Joanna. The poor kid was heartbroken. It appeared that the boy in question had moved on to one of the popular girls at school and had told Joanna she was too weird for being obsessed with science. The boy was clearly an immature little jerk, but his actions had obviously knocked her confidence. McCoy had picked up the mug and was staring at it again.
“Jo made me this the first Christmas after the divorce. She was so excited to see me and so proud of her present.” He placed his hand over the much smaller painted handprint. “Now it seems like five minutes have passed, she’s all grown up and I missed it Y/F/N, I missed everything important and now I don’t know what she needs. Her mother is right, I’m a damn pathetic excuse for a father.” His voice was gruff with emotion.
Running his hands through his hair and grasping the back of his neck, McCoy slumped back in his chair. Embarrassed, he avoided your gaze, his tired hazel eyes steadfastly regarding his lap. For some reason he didn’t want to see the look of disappointment as you realised he was an abject failure.
“Doctor…” He braced himself for another dose of your honesty. “I… I’m not a parent, so maybe I’m not the best person to give you advice… but I just think maybe Joanna just needs to know that you think she is perfect the way she is. If I could, I’d tell her it really sucks right now, and it’s going to take a little patience, but there’s someone out there who thinks that female scientists rock.”
“If I was dirtside, this would be simple. I’d kick his ass into next Sunday,” McCoy grumbled.
“What, you mean you’d be the scary, overprotective father? No way, I’d never have guessed,” you laughed. “I guess it doesn’t hurt to tell her you think the kid is a dumbass too.”
“Think she’ll believe me if I tell her all boys are dumbasses and she should ignore them until she’s twenty five?” He pulled the padd back towards him, “But seriously, You really think that’s all she needs?”
“Its a start.” You shrugged. “You know, I wish someone had told me that I was perfect when I was her age. It took me a long time to understand that I didn’t have to be anyone but myself, and that if someone really loved me they would accept me and all my many faults.” You smiled wryly at McCoy and the corners of his mouth turned up slightly in return.
“I guess I have a message to write then.”
“I’ll leave you to it.” You got to your feet and started picking up the dirty crockery from the desk. McCoy reached out and stopped your hand with his. He looked up at you seriously.
“I really fucked up the past couple of days, didn’t I?”
“Yup.” He winced. While you understood now why he had been unbearable, it still didn’t make it right.
“Chapel is never going to forgive me, is she?”
“Im not going to lie, sir, it’s pretty bad. She said fuck. Twice.” McCoy groaned. “I don’t think it’s irretrievable, but it’s going to take some grovelling. You could start by doing all the overdue paperwork.” You gestured to the piles of padds.
“It seems I haven’t been doing either the CMO thing or the parenting thing very well lately,” he said regretfully. You squeezed his hand.
“If it helps, I don’t know many teenage girls who would want to talk to their daddy about this kind of stuff. It must be hard, being so far away, but I reckon you must be doing something right. And the other stuff… Your team respect you, usually. We’d cut you some slack if you’d let us.”
McCoy nodded, unable for the second time that day to speak. And if you noticed that his eyes were a little teary, well he was exhausted dammit. He watched you pick up the last of the mugs, and wondered just how you had managed to make him forget his insecurities. Even if it was just for a little while, he felt lighter, as though he was capable of dealing with whatever the universe threw at him next.
You moved to open the door. “I’ll see you’re not disturbed unless there’s an outbreak of Teenaxian plague, Doctor.”
Backlit by the harsh light of medbay, it appeared to McCoy that you gave out an aura of light. Somehow the illusion made him feel like he was really seeing you for the first time and he found himself holding a breath.
“Y/F/N?” You looked back at him from the doorway, a small smile playing on your lips. Something swooped in his stomach.
“Darlin’ any guy who didn’t tell you you were perfect the way you are, he’s a dumbass.”
Summary: AU. When the reader’s shot at a better life is
stolen from her, she continues to see the person responsible all over
town. After a series of unfortunate events, will she learn that there’s a
fine line between love and hate?
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader
Word Count: 1,282
Warnings: language, anger, tw: panic
Bucky is clearly still angry. Sorry my dudes. Thanks for reading!
Inspired by this post. Liebestraum is Franz Liszt’s most famous piano piece, told in 3 parts. The 3rd part, the part Harvey requests, is said to be about unconditional, enduring love. The kind that never fades, that never dies.
The cold morning air is bracing, and Harvey relishes the feel of the wind on his face, the feel of his feet hitting the pavement, as he runs through the paths of Central Park.
He passes another runner coming from the opposite direction and he nods. The man nods back, giving Harvey a once-over with a leer and Harvey smiles to himself and keeps running, turning the corner. He reaches the sidewalk outside the park and is greeted by a couple of ladies running toward him. They smile and he gives them a winning grin that starts to widen when he hears them giggle to each other behind his quickly retreating back.
He loves his morning run.
Finally he reaches the front door of his building and he stops, nodding at the doorman.
“How was the run, Mr. Specter?”
He checks his heart rate with a couple of fingers pressed to the inside of his neck and says, “Good, Henry. Thanks.” He watches a moving van pull into the underground garage, a couple of guys in the cabin, and says, “Someone moving in today?”
He nods. “Apartment twenty-three. Nice guy.”
“He had to have been, for Mrs. Grosvenor to give it up. She loved her place.”
Henry gives him a secret smile. “The new tenant convinced her she loved her grandkids in Florida more.”
Harvey laughs, shakes his head. “Well done. He’s not a fellow lawyer, is he?”
Henry opens the door for Harvey as he shakes his head “He didn’t say. But I did see them move in a baby grand earlier.”
Tomorrow I have an interview and a stage, then Wednesday another interview. I’m genuinely excited about the stage and the second interview tbh, so wish me luck, but also wish me luck for the first because I need a job lol
So, confession time: I have approximately ten million AUs that I haven’t talked about online, and this is one of them. Mass Effect 2 AU. Credit to @turiantea for building this with me! They’re my primary bouncer for rebelcaptain AUs and anything good about this comes from them.
They’d both known, from the moment they’d left the Normandy, that the magnetic field on Altus 9 was going to disrupt communications entirely, but it’s still disconcerting to have K’s voice stutter and static and go out like a light the moment they hit atmo.
“Well,” says Jyn, staring at the console. Bodhi’s piloting, and through the shield, Altus 9 stretches out like a field of violet glass, reflective, slippery, deadly. “That’s it, then.”
Cassian doesn’t say anything.
“I’ve marked the coordinates for pickup on your omnitools,” says Bodhi. “They should be able to work okay without–without too many problems from the field, I think, me and K did a lot of work on them. But they can’t–they can’t transmit anything to and from the ship. We’re going to lose all–all contact with you until pickup. So, y’know.”
“If we get eaten by husks,” says Jyn, and pops the latch on her seatbelt, “nothing you can do.”
“Twenty-four hours,” says Cassian, and Jyn flinches the way she has for three weeks, every time he’s opened his mouth. Jyn doesn’t flinch like other people, really. She doesn’t flicker back or stiffen or look like she’s about to be struck. She sets her teeth to lean into the strike, instead. There’s always a faint whirring from her implants, too, like they’re about to overheat. “See you then.”
“Yeah,” says Bodhi, and then Cassian follows Jyn out the side of the shuttle, catching himself with one hand on the hard ground.
“As you can
see, the patients that opted to have the cryosurgery recovered in almost half
the time than the patients that didn’t. They also experienced less side effects.”
You wrapped up your medical presentation.
attendance gave you a huge round of applause, including your boyfriend Isco.
You weren’t sure if he was going to make it because of his busy football
schedule, but he swore that he’d find a way to come. He always came through on
Summary: Dean has the Mark of Cain. He and the reader have been in a relationship for a long time, but things start getting turbulent and the Reader has a decision to make. Pairing: MOC!DeanxReader Words: 4525 Warnings: ANGSTTT (i think). And some fluff thrown in there too. AN: This has taken me FOREVERRRR. Oi moi, this was a labor of love XD This is my piece for @lipstickandwhiskey‘s AC/DC challenge, with my song being Highway to Hell. HAPPY BIRTHDAY LIPS!!! Hope you have a fantastic day!!! <3 Constructive Criticism Welcome!!!
Italics are Flashbacks.
“Can you please relax, Dean?”
“Come on… just come sit down for half an hour?”
“I am sitting down, Y/N, now let me get on with
“You know that’s not what I meant…”
Dean slammed the laptop shut with such aggression
that you jumped.
Your shock was quickly replaced with a simmering,
defiant anger. It was getting harder to deal with Dean, and you felt as though
your temper had been bubbling just below the surface for so long… it was
The green-eyed Hunter glared over at you, still
lounging on the chair, one arm propped on the table next to the laptop. You saw
his jaw clench and the flicker of danger in his eyes as they locked on yours.
A killer he might be, but he didn’t scare you.
“What?” you snapped, crossing your arms and staring
Dean simply rolled his eyes and turned back to the
laptop, opening it up and continuing what he was doing before your
interruption; acting as if you’d never been there in the first place.
Either he was so frustrated with you that he was
giving you the cold shoulder, or he’d thought better of whatever he was going
to say in the first place.
Whichever it was, you decided not to poke the bear.
Growling in frustration, you whirled around and
stormed off to sulk in your shared room.
You threw your clothes off and crawled under the
covers, despite the fact it was only 9.30. Part of you hoped he’d follow you,
try to make amends. He knew he’d angered and upset you, which usually led to
him skulking in after you, wanting nothing more than to make things right…
Randy Orton/OC: You and
everyone else on the roster are being very careful around him after his match
with Brock at SummerSlam. He gets tired of it and decides he needs to show you
that he’s not delicate. Smut. Requested by anon. @lclb12