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onionsoop · 4 years ago

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Late at Night /// Nanami x f!Reader /// (+18)

Summary: During a class trip to Hokkaido, you find yourself stuck in the same bed with Nanami which leads to some late night events unexpected events :0

Length: 4.5k

Tags & Warnings: Teacher x Student (Reader is 18), exhibitionism (kind of), voyeurism (kind of), fingering, unprotected sex, creampie, stupid “same bed” cliché, praise (kind of)

Authors Note: Hey everyone, I just wanted to let you all know that this the first fic that I’ve ever written and I hope you enjoy! I’m hoping to keep writing and posting more fics to this blog in the future for Jujutsu Kaisen, Haikyuu, and maybe some other fandoms. Anyways, thanks for reading and sorry for any spelling mistakes :) Oh, also there might be a part 2 for this??? idk, ill decide later on, not sure what direction I wanna take it in

The sound of the bus coming to a halt was what woke you up from your long and uncomfortable nap. You opened your bleary eyes to find the rest of the students in your class beginning to stand up and climb out into the cold and snowy outside. It had been a long trip, about eight hours and during that time almost everyone had fallen asleep. You had all left at eleven in Tokyo and due to being so far North, the sun had already set outside despite it only being seven. You picked up your backpack from where it was shoved underneath the seat in front of you and let out a sigh about having to get up and stretch your stiff legs.

As you filed into the line, you were greeted by a large slap on your back, “Hey Y/N, how��d ya sleep?” Nobara asked, giving you one of her signature grins.

“Fine,” you said rubbing your eyes, “though I can’t say that the bus window made a very comfortable pillow.”

“Well good thing we’ll be able to sleep soon. Hopefully, Gojou will put us together and won’t ruin our fun,” She said with a wink, receiving a small chuckle from you. Two weeks prior to the trip, Nobara had spent most of her time devising a plan to prank Itadori and Megumi while they were asleep. You knew she was counting on you to help her out with it, but you were a little unsure if you wanted to risk getting caught and excluded from the rest of the trip in order to fulfill one of her silly ideas.

Once everyone finally piled out of the bus, you were all led into the Dining Hall for a nice hot meal, a welcomed contrast to the freezing temperatures outside. You had never been to Hokkaido before and both the piles of white fluffy snow and the different array of hot soups and curries were new and exciting to experience. Dinner was overall jovial and chaotic, you sat with Itadori, Nobara, Todo, and Maki and you had all had a good time arguing about what activities you wanted to do in the next few days and which dish was the best. By the time dinner was over, you felt completely stuffed. During the course of the mea, you had eaten almost everything you could get your hands on and now felt more ready than ever to go to bed despite already sleeping on the bus.

Everyone was piled into the main lounge area of the dorm building to be sorted into rooms. You could see students shifting around trying to get closer together and counting the number of people between them to try and be spaced together. From the edge of the room, Nobara was making aggressive eye contact with you and beckoning you to come over, which you quickly did in hopes that you wouldn’t be stuck in a room with people you didn’t know.

At the front of the room, Gojou stood up and clapped his hands to get everyone’s attention. “Now everyone, as you probably know, there are going to be four people per dorm, no more, no less during the duration of our trip. In every room, there is going to be one chaperone and three students. There are only two beds per room, so you will have to share with somebody else or choose to sleep on the floor, it’s up to you. And finally, to your displeasure, we have already assigned who is going to be in what rooms.”

That final sentence caused a groan to come from the student body along with sounds of protest and arguing. Gojou ignored this though and pulled out a crumpled sheet of paper and began to read names off of them. Students all began to pick up their stuff and head to their dorms as they were called out, and as you all listened Nobara let out a groan as she was sent to a room with Inumaki, Panda, and Mei Mei. You waited on the floor still surveying who else you might be put with. The number of students in the room was dwindling and most of your friends had already been taken which sent a pang of worry into your gut.

“... and in room 6 there will be Itadori, Megumi, Y/N, and Nanami,” Gojou said. A momentary wave of relief washed over you after hearing that, you knew Megumi and Idatori semi-well, so it wouldn’t be too awkward of a time, but that feeling quickly dissipated as you remembered you were with Nanami. It was a well-known fact that about ninety percent of the female population found him attractive, and you couldn’t be excluded from that group. The pieces of the puzzle quickly snapped into place as you thought more about the room situation. You were the only girl in the group, which meant that there was no way in hell that they would be letting Itadori or Megumi share a bed with you.

You would be sleeping right next to Nanami. For the next four nights.

The walk to the room was only a chance for you to get more and more anxious as you thought about the upcoming events. Megumi and Itadori were cheerfully chatting in front of you, occasionally turning back to include you in the conversation or make a joke, but it didn’t help with the looming feeling of Nanami behind you.

You all arrived in the room and Itadori immediately jumped on the bed, messing up the sheets and knocking off one of the pillows, earning a sigh and displeased look from Megumi. Despite your nerves, you plastered a neutral expression on your face and tentatively walked over to the second bed in the room, setting your bag down and sitting down on the squishy mattress.

At this point, Itadori and Megumi were starting to argue, Megumi saying that he wouldn’t be able to sleep next to him if he was going to take up that much room while Itadori was doing his best to stretch all his limbs out across the full length of the bed. You pulled out your phone and tried your best to look busy. It wasn’t quite time for lights-out, but you still felt a bit nervous starting to unpack in a room full of guys, especially with one that made your heart race.

Nanami, in his typical fashion, had not said anything since being assigned to the rooms. You felt him sit down on the other side of the bed and saw that he was beginning to unpack out of the corner of your eye. You shouldn’t be so nervous, nobody else is, after all, Nanami was just going to be sleeping next to you, you had stood that close to him before on other occasions. It still felt different though… You quickly shut those thoughts out of your head as soon as they came in. He was your teacher, you shouldn’t be thinking that way.

To distract yourself, you unzipped your bag to go and look for your pajamas and toothbrush. You had packed a mix of cold and warm clothing for your trip considering you would be traveling all over the place, but you soon realized you had made a mistake with your pajamas. You pulled out the green shorts and tank top you had packed without much thought, despite never feeling this way about them before, you now felt that they might be a little too revealing for sleeping in a room full of guys.

You shoved the top back into your bag and opted for a t-shirt instead, which helped you feel a little less nervous about your situation. In order to get out of the room, and to hopefully talk to Nobara, you rushed into the girl’s bathrooms and let out a relieved sigh. This trip was going to be a difficult one to get through.

You quickly got changed in a stall and spent a large portion of time afterward talking with the other girls in the room. Many of them were complaining about who they got put in a room with while others were whining about not getting to stay with Gojou. Apparently, Momo was the lucky girl of the night who got to room with Gogou, Todo, and Mechamaru, but she didn’t seem to have much interest in her good fortune. Finally, Nobara slammed open the door to the girl’s bathroom and made her way over to you.

“I can’t believe this stroke of luck, you got a room with both Itadori and Megumi, that’ll be perfect,” She said with a devious grin on her face.

“I’m not really sure, do we really wanna risk the rest of the trip?” You said, trying your best to calm Nobara’s excitement.

“It’ll be fine, don’t worry. Plus, we can wait until the last day too, then they’ll have their guard down too,” she stated, nudging you in the arm after. You continued to happily chat with the rest of the girls and avoid going back to your room for a good half an hour, but, as expected, you heard Gojou come down the hall announcing that it was five minutes until lights-out. Most of the girls quickly began packing up their stuff and rushing out of the bathroom to not get in trouble and you figured you should do the same.

When you walked back to your room and pushed open the cracked door you were quickly confronted with your nerves coming back and a hyper Itadori. Megumi was in bed doing his best to read a book while Itadori was bugging him through multiple various and loud methods. You went back to your side of the bed and put your toothbrush and skincare away, laser focusing your eyes on anything that wasn’t Nanami.

The five minutes that you had before bedtime seemed to be over before you could even process it. For the first time that night, at least to your knowledge, Nanami finally said something, “Alright boys and Y/N, lights out.” Which earned a complaint from Itadori and caused Megumi to quickly jump up and shut off the lights, eager to have a chance to get away from him. You could see Itadori and Megumi start to bicker about the blankets and “staying on your side of the bed” as you pulled back the covers and crawled in between the blanket and the sheets. The bed was warm from the thick layered blankets on top and the fuzzy fabric it was made out of and as soon as you sank into it, your tiredness from the long day hit you like a brick. Despite that though, you still went stiff when you felt the bed shift from Nanami laying down next to you.

“If I steal all the blankets during the night feel free to take them back.” He said, making you jump and answer with a quick “Okay.”

Even after Itadori and Megumi had finally settled down you still couldn’t completely calm down. You were making sure to stay on the very edge of the bed to not accidentally make contact with Nanami, but it wasn’t a comfortable position. You thought he might be asleep already but you weren’t entirely sure, he hadn’t moved much from his original position either. You could hear Itadori’s snores from across the room and the constant shifting of Megumi who was currently covering his head to try and drown it out. After a while though, you finally felt yourself begin to drift into sleep, and you welcomed it.

It was the middle of the night. You don’t know what woke you up but you found yourself disturbed and rubbing your eyes in the pitch-black room. As your eyes were beginning to adjust though, you immediately froze. You found yourself facing the chest of Nanami with his arm under your head, you must have rolled over at some point in the night putting you right next to him.

The slight smell of aftershave filled your nose and you could hear him gently breathing with the rise and fall of his chest, he must be fast asleep. The loud snores of Itadori still echoed through the room but all you could concentrate on was the man in front of you. You had never been this close to him before, or anyone before, and your heart felt like it was about the burst out of your chest. You wouldn’t dare move in fear of waking him up and making the situation awkward, so you stayed frozen in your spot trying not to shake.

You couldn’t deny that you had thought about things like this before, the thought of being so close to him, having him touch you, and being able to feel him under your hands, but the prospect of having it actually happen was just too anxiety-inducing. You could feel your face going red as you thought about all the dirty things you had done before, and you felt a slight twinge between your legs.

You couldn’t. Could you? You hated the thought as soon as it entered your head, but that didn’t stop your hand from creeping between your legs and resting on your stomach. It was so wrong, he was your teacher, he was nine years older than you, but you didn’t want to stop. You would probably never get a chance like this ever again. You could even promise yourself to sleep on the floor the next three nights, but just this once, you wanted to risk it.

Your fingers crept down under the waistband of your shorts and panties and dipped into the slick folds between your legs. You tentatively put two fingers inside, never taking your eyes off of Nanami’s face, and began to pump them in and out. Your thumb found its place on your clit which you began to rub circles on. The sudden feeling of having your clit touched was enough to make you clamp your other hand over your mouth to try and quiet your breathing. Your first priority had to be staying silent.

You could feel your eyes beginning to half close as you gave into the pleasure, and they drifted down to look at Nanami’s chest and the sculpted muscles under his shirt. You began to move your fingers faster feeling your release on its way and you held your hand tighter to your mouth as your head became fuzzy. Small whimpers were beginning to slip out of your throat and you could feel your movements getting sloppier as you continued to speed up.

A hand wrapped around your wrist, stilling your hand.

You froze, eyes shooting open to find Nanami looking down at you with a weary expression. You opened your mouth to say something but nothing came out. Your brain was in a frenzy, you wanted to just evaporate into thin air or die on the spot, but you couldn’t do anything.

“What are you doing?” He asked with no hint of emotion in his voice.

“I-I’m sorry-- I--,” you couldn’t spit the words out, truthfully you couldn’t even think of what to say. You were caught red-handed and you didn’t think you would ever be able to make yourself forget the embarrassment you felt at this exact moment.

“Do you normally do this when you’re put next to your teachers?”

“No, I-I’m sorry, I’m sorry I’ll leave--” you stuttered out, trying your best to make the situation end as quickly as possible.

“So this is a special occasion then?” He asked, holding your gaze and not releasing your arm.

“N-No--”

“Which is it then? Do you normally do this or is this a one-time thing?” He said, interrupting you before you could spit out another pitiful apology. You tried your best to slow your breathing to get out a coherent answer, but it wasn’t working with the way that Nanami’s eyes were drilling into yours.

“I-Its a one-time thing, I-I’m sorry, I’ll go sleep on the floor,” you said trying to pull your hand out of his grasp but he didn’t let go. You felt sick, you shouldn’t have taken the risk, you knew that the mortification you felt would outweigh the pleasure you got from masturbating if you got caught.

“You’ll be left frustrated then.” He said. Everything he was saying wasn’t registering, all you felt was the panic in your gut and the need to get away as quickly as possible.

“T-That’s fine, I-I don’t care,” you quickly spit out, feeling tears pricking at the corner of your eyes.

“Are you sure...? ...I’d be willing to help,” he said, keeping his voice low as to not wake Itadori and Megumi.

“I--.., w-wait, what?” You said, the meaning of his words finally hitting you.

“I would be willing to help, I don’t want one of my students feeling pent up and unsatisfied.”

“I…” you didn’t know what to say, you were so shocked by the whole situation that the thought of answering was even too much. He pulled your hand up from under your shorts and out into the open where evidence of your actions was clearly visible on your fingers. His gaze dropped back down to your face expecting a response. You opened your mouth to answer before diverting your eyes and opting to give a small nod.

Nanami’s hand landed on your hip and slowly made its way down under the waistband of your shorts while the arm that was under you came down to reach around your back and pull you closer. You could feel his fingers brushing past your stomach as they trailed closer to your dripping wet cunt. Your breath was caught in your throat as you felt everything that was happening, you had to be dreaming, there was no way.

Nanami’s fingers finally reached your entrance and he slipped one inside of you, causing you to let out a small gasp and cling onto his shirt. His fingers were much larger than yours and could reach places that you couldn’t yourself, making you tighten up around him. It was truly torturous as he began to move his finger inside of you, the friction on your tight walls and the adrenaline from the whole situation was enough to make your head fuzzy and cause a small whimper to come out from your sealed lips.

You could feel him pulling you closer as you held onto his shirt and arched your back from the pleasure. He was already going at a gentle and agonizing pace inside of you, but when he added a second finger it was what threw you over the edge into a shaking mess. You were no longer able to control your breathing and keep quiet so you threw a hand over your mouth in order to stifle your moans and whimpers.

“Getting close?” he asked, whispering into your ear making you shiver from the feeling of his breath on your skin.

Without thinking, you whined out, “Y-Yes, b-but I want more, I-I need you inside of me...”

As soon as you said it you knew you had gone too far. Here Nanami was, fingering you and holding you close to help you cum, and you had the audacity to ask for more. His fingers stilled inside of you and you tightened up at the feeling of them sliding out, leaving you empty. Nanami put his hand under your chin and tilted your head up to look him in the eyes.

“Then climb on,” he said, making your eyes widen.

You took your hands away from their place on his shirt and began to unsteadily move yourself on top of him. At that same time, he had his fingers hooked around the waistband of your shorts and thoroughly soaked panties and was pulling them down your legs. You positioned yourself on top of his lap, your thighs on either side of his hips. You had your hands braced firmly on his chest, trying to hold yourself up, but you couldn’t manage sitting up more than a few inches. Under your bare pussy you could feel his hard-on through his pants and you were trying your best to keep your hips still and not grind on him.

His large hands began to pull his pants and boxers down and you lifted your hips to make it easier, but when he had finally removed them you couldn't hide your surprise about his size. Apparently, the look was written all over your face because a hint of a smile was on Nanami’s face and he grabbed your hips to keep you steady.

“You were the one who said you wanted more, sweetheart. You haven’t changed your mind right?”

You dryly swallowed and quickly shook your head no. Even if you were worried about being able to take him, it didn’t mean that you weren’t going to try, especially when one of your wet dreams was playing itself out in real life.

Nanami slid his hands around your hips and under your thighs to help position you above his cock. You could feel yourself beginning to shiver with anticipation just by looking down at what you were going to take in your tight, dripping pussy. The need to be filled up by him was becoming overwhelming and he was taking his sweet time with looking at you and lowering you onto him. When the tip finally touched your entrance you let out a whimper followed up by a pathetic “please.”

“Please what? I wanna hear you say it.” Nanami said, bringing a hand up to stroke your cheek.

“P-Please fuck me, I-I wanna be filled up so badly,” you said, your voice barely more than a whisper. Finally, you felt him start to enter you, your walls painfully stretching to accommodate his size, and you weren’t able to stifle the high-pitched moan that escaped your lips when it happened. Your vision was getting blurry and your arms lost the strength to hold you up anymore, causing your head to smack into his chest. You heard Nanami curse at the loud noise you made and you felt his fingers force their way into your mouth and down your throat, forcing you to keep quiet. He continued to push your hips down onto him, earning a few whimpers and causing you to grip onto his arm. Despite your heavy breathing, he didn’t give you much time to adjust to his size, you could feel the painful sensation of him pressing up against your cervix as he held you down along with the feeling of your slick beginning to coat both of your thighs.

His grip tightened on your ass as he began to lift you up and down, you tried your best to help by moving your hips but you didn’t have much strength left in your legs after being so close to cumming earlier. The feeling of him stretching you out and rubbing against your slick insides would have ordinarily caused you to make moans that could be heard through the walls, but the combined force of using all your willpower and having two fingers shoved down your throat was enough to reduce your noises to just quick and heavy breathing. The wet sound of you bouncing on his dick was the only noise that could be heard throughout the room and it was enough to make you tighten up around him, causing Nanami to shut his eyes and get a concentrated look on his face.

In a hushed and deep voice, Nanami asked, “Can you keep quiet sweetheart?” which you quickly nodded to. As soon as he had removed his fingers from your mouth, leaving a trail of saliva behind, your hand was back over your mouth and you were biting your lip hard enough to draw blood. His free hand brushed a piece of your hair behind your ear before making its way under your shirt. You felt him grab your chest and begin to pinch your nipple between his middle and index finger, making your job of staying quiet much harder than before. The feeling of having your chest played with sent waves of pleasure down to your crotch, only causing you to feel yourself get wetter and closer to orgasm. The pace he was fucking you at wasn’t ruthless, but it was slow and powerful enough to make you feel your release building up inside of you, every thrust made it a challenge for you to hold on and not completely give in. You could feel that he was close too, his movements were getting more erratic and you could see the sheen of sweat on his face in the dim light of the window.

You took your free hand and moved it up to his face, brushing your fingers past his cheek and sliding them into his hair. You didn't feel like you would be able to hold on much longer and your eyes began to cross as you let yourself fully give in.

“Cum with me sweetheart, okay?” He said, looking up at you through lowered eyelids. You nodded with what little energy you could and prepared yourself for what was next. His hand moved from its spot on your chest and went down to help fuck you faster on his dick. The pace quickly picked up and you could feel that your pussy was going to be bruised in the morning from how hard he was going. He reached his thumb down to your clit and began to move it in circles like you were doing before, causing you to gasp and grip onto the hair that was in your hand.

It took all your effort to keep in your moans and whimpers as you reached your climax, feeling your cunt spasm around him and the words “good girl” falling from his lips. Your vision went blurry as he continued to fuck you through your orgasm and cum inside you, filling you up with his hot sticky liquid.

When you regained your focus, you were both a gasping and sweaty mess under the covers. His hands had moved to rest around your back and hold you against him and his cock was still sheathed inside of you. You didn’t have any energy to move and simply let your arms fall limp on the bed, savoring the afterglow and the feeling of his cum starting to drip out of you.

You felt immensely tired and could feel your eyelids wanting to close. You felt Nanami place a kiss on top of you head which caused a faint smile to form on your lips and you wrapped your arms around him, ready to fall asleep exactly where you were resting on top of him.

As you gave one last look around the room though, the last thing you saw before you drifted to sleep was Itadori staring at you wide eyed from the other bed.

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #nanami #nanami kento #nanami x reader #smut #jujutsu kaisen fanfic

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werenotadulting · 3 years ago

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Routine Procedure pt. 5

Over the next couple of days, it was actually abnormal for Kate not to give me some special attention down there during a diaper change. Just woke up? Let's try using my vibrator on your soaked diaper. Need a change before lunch? How about reverse cowgirl while laying there on top of your fresh diaper. Time for your night diaper? Bedtime blowjob.

Don't get me wrong, Kate and I have always had a very good sex life, but this past week was unlike any other.

On Saturday, in the middle of a mid-afternoon change, was when Kate suggested we try getting out of the house for a bit.

"You really soak through these diapers quick, Mike. We're gonna have to see about getting some more soon."

"I suppose we should, right? I mean, they're working infinitely better than that condom thing," I said as I was laying back while Kate took care of wiping me down.

Despite what she had said about showing me how to change myself, she didn't seem to mind taking care of it, and I was in no rush to put a stop to it considering what was in it for me.

"That's very true. There was only that one minor leak you had last night, which I'm sure we can find a way to prevent in the future. I'll put in an order for some new diapers tonight, so they get here by Monday."

Kate secured the last tape and ran a finger along the elastic leg gathers. "You know, that new game store opened up in the mall on the other side of town. What do you say we stop over there and see how it is?"

I froze. Being diapered at home was one thing. Going out in public though.... Kate seemed to know exactly what I was thinking.

"Mike. Earth to Mike. Remember what we talked about? No one is going to be paying attention to the size of your butt or the sound of your pants. And guess what? Even if they do, who cares? You have a medical need to wear diapers. Just like people who have trouble walking use canes, it's a medical thing. You didn't ask to be incontinent."

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I looked at myself in the mirror. My jeans appeared to do their job of concealing my diaper.

"You know," Kate popped up behind me in the reflection, "if you're so worried about people seeing, they do make onesies for adults. Just a thought."

I scoffed at her, and we headed off to the mall.

About 30 minutes later, we arrived. I couldn't help but notice that it seemed like there were a heck of a lot more people there than normal. Another 10 minutes later and we were finally able to find a parking space towards the back. As I got out of the car, I made sure my shirt was pulled down as far as it could go. It was all I needed for my shirt to ride up and expose my plastic waistband.

Kate grabbed my hand, but not before giving my padded butt a firm slap. The corner of her mouth turned up ever so slightly, and we walked hand-in-hand up to the mall.

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You know that feeling you get when it feels like someone is watching you? Yeah, it did not go away no matter how much time passed as we meandered through the mall.

Our first stop was in the food court, where we grabbed a late lunch of chicken and waffles. Kate went to order the food while I found a spot to sit down.

"All ready," Kate said as she walked up with a tray piled with chicken. "They accidentally made your lemonade a large, and I wasn't about time tell them they were wrong."

"It is the best homemade lemonade in town," I said, grabbing my plate off of the tray.

Kate set the tray down, then went to grab a couple of napkins. A few moments later, I noticed my shirt rising up and the back of my diaper being pulled open. I spun around and swatted the offending hand away, which turned out to belong to Kate.

"What in the hell do you think you're doing?!"

"Giving you a diaper check, what else?"

"We are in the middle of the mall!"

"It's been awhile since you had your diaper changed, and I know you are bad at knowing when you're at capacity," Kate gave me a 'prove me wrong' look.

"I'm fine!! Just... not out in broad daylight, please?" I pleaded.

"Well I didn't even get a chance to properly check just now, but if you say so...."

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After stopping in a couple clothing stores, ("Hey, we should think about getting you some new jeans. Those ones seem a little tight all of the sudden.") we finally made our way to the new gaming store. It was like a one-stop shop for gamers, with board games, collectibles, and video games. Towards the back, there were tables setup, where people could break out their games or card decks and hang out for a bit.

Once we had searched down all the aisles, we found ourselves in the back next to the gaming tables.

"Hey, we're looking for two more for Ticket to Ride! Do you guys want in?" said a blonde girl from a table in the corner. She and another girl were setting up the board, getting ready to start.

Kate's eyes grew to the size of saucers.

"Oh heck yes! I never lose at this game!" It was true, she did never lose, and she never let me hear the end of it whenever we played.

An hour later, and it was clear that it was between Kate and Melanie, the blonde girl, on who would be crowned victorious. The other girl and I had all but given up. Seeing that there was no way I could complete all my routes, I had long since resorted to my usual strategy of trying to sabotage Kate.

"Annnnnd 110, 111, 112. I have retained my crown," Kate gloated.

"Oh wonderful," I said, "I can't wait to hear about this all the way home."

"Well played, you two," Melanie chimed in. "Don't worry about cleaning up, we are actually waiting for some friends to come play a round."

"Oh thank you, that's so nice," Kate said as we both stood up to leave.

"Of course! It was nice meet....." Melanie trailed off, staring at my crotch.

Both Kate and I followed her gaze, and it was then that I saw that I'd had a major leak.

Large wet spots had formed down the inside of my jeans, as well as two half-moon shapes on my butt. Looking at my chair, there was more evidence of my accident, there for all to see.

It was obvious to anyone looking what had happened.

I was speechless.

"Oh shit, we're so sorry! Let me just wipe this up..." Kate said as she frantically wiped the seat down with a tissue.

The girls were equally dumbstruck, as they watched Kate lead me out of the store waddling behind her.

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The feeling of eyes on me increased tenfold on the walk through the mall to the car. Without a jacket or anything to cover up with, we moved as fast as we could, whispers and giggles following us out.

In what seemed like an eternity later, we finally made it back to the car.

"I'll get the seats cleaned, don't worry baby, just get in." Kate pulled open her door and got the car started. I didn't need to be told twice, as I practically leaped into the car.

"That...I...I'm so embarrassed...." I was starting to get choked up, tears forming in the corners of my eyes.

"Hey, hey, there there sweetie, I'm sorry. That can't have been fun, I know. It's not your fault." Kate was rubbing my back, the car still in park.

"That doesn't make it any less humiliating! And it's not even like I had a little accident, Kate, my diaper leaked!" I was almost yelling, my emotions getting the better of me.

"Shhhh baby, it's okay, take deep breaths, it's going to be okay. We didn't know anyone there, no one important saw, you'll be fine."

I was still upset, but I listened to her, taking steadying breaths that at least got my heart rate under control. Seeing this, Kate started to back out of our parking spot.

"Let's get you home and into a bath, baby," Kate soothed. We drove on in silence for awhile as I continued to calm down.

I think," Kate broke the silence, "that we might want to consider getting you some thicker protection. Just to be safe, you know? What do you think?"

"I think that means I will definitely be waddling, and it will be obvious to everyone what I'm wearing," I said, staring out the window.

"Well, do you prefer people maybe noticing that you walk a little funny, or running the risk of leaking like happened back there?"

"I don't know Kate, I just...I don't want to think about it."

"I'll take care of it then, babe," Kate said, "those hospital diapers are notoriously cheap anyway. We'll find something that works better for you. And I'll look into some of those onesies, so you don't feel so self-conscious about your diaper sticking out."

"Yeah, whatever," I said, as we continued down the highway.

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Kate knew exactly where to look when she logged on to order new diapers.

Let's see, she thought, I think probably a case of ABU Simple Ultra. Maybe a mixed case with some fun prints? No, it was too soon to go all-in like that. I'll just add in another pack of PeekABUs. That's 90 diapers, so at 2-3 diapers a day, that should be good for a month. Better throw in some boosters, too. And set up a recurring monthly order, yes please.

With that order placed, it was then to the ODU website, where she settled on several of their basic onesies.

"All in good time, Kate," she muttered to herself as she looked longingly at all of the cute designs. She could just picture how adorable Mike would look in that dinosaur onesie.

She was so horny right now. The sight of Mike in his wet jeans, his face burning bright red. Her hand slipped down the front of her shorts.

Oh fuck, she thought, he was so humiliated. She rubbed her clit to the image of Mike standing there over the pee puddle on his chair while those girls looked on.

Had she taped on his diaper perhaps a little loose before they went to the mall? Yes.

Had she intentionally ordered Mike a large lemonade? Also yes.

Had she suspected during her impromptu diaper check at the food court that Mike would protest and insist he was fine? Triple yes.

Had she known those flimsy hospital diapers would fail sooner rather than later, and she could talk Mike into something a bit thicker?

Ding-ding-ding, we have a winner.

Kate closed the laptop and got up.

She had a diaper boy she needed to fuck.

#werenotadulting

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imagining-in-the-margins · 4 years ago

Text

Here to Misbehave (Pt. 23 | S.R.)

Summary: Spencer’s birthday plans get interrupted by a case. Frustrated by Reader’s busy schedule, Spencer finds a unique way to spend time with her. Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader Category: Smut (NSFW, 18+) Content Warning: Mild exhibitionism, fingering, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, Dom/sub, light choking, degradation/praise, sub space Word Count: 7.3k

MASTERLIST

—————————————————

Waiting for Spencer Reid was an interesting position to be in. It was also, unfortunately, very, very common. You would think the IQ points would translate to efficiency, but you’d be very wrong. The only thing that boy does fast is read, and even that didn’t follow through to text messages, considering he’d read none of the six I’d sent him in the past hour.

So, naturally, as one does in an emergency, I called him. Unsurprisingly, the phone barely rang a second time before he picked up. Talking was, as we were both aware, his forte. Without even waiting for my greeting, his groggy voice came through the receiver with a song-like sound.

“Hello, little girl.”

But it wasn’t his turn to sing, and he knew damn well why I was calling. I could hear the smirk on his face so well that I could also envision exactly what he looked like in that moment, with his fluffy hair sticking up from constantly running his hands through it and his eyes only half-open as he tried to finish reading whatever horrible thing that he had in front of him.

It wasn’t how anyone should be spending their birthday. Especially not him. There wasn’t really anything I could do about it, though that didn’t make it any easier to hear the exhaustion and sadness behind that scratchy voice.

“What’re you doing up late? It’s past your bedtime, you know,” he chastised before I even had a chance to speak. He wasn’t wrong — It was 3AM where I was. But where he was, it’d just hit midnight.

“I just wanted to wish a happy birthday to my favorite old man,” I purred back once I’d managed to calm my fast-beating heart. I wondered if I’d ever get used to the brief rush of adrenaline and relief when I heard his voice for the first time after some time away.

I hoped not.

Spencer didn’t seem impressed by my reasoning, though. “You’re sweet. Go to sleep.”

“You’re up, too,” I whined, still picturing the way he would undoubtedly pull the phone further away to lessen the noise. I almost asked if he was also picturing me but stopped when I realized that whatever he had in mind was probably a lot more exciting than reality. Then again, he often told me that moments like this were his favorite. When we’re both too tired to keep our eyes open but too happy to be with each other to let them close all the way.

“Barely,” he corrected.

“Besides, I had to stay up. It’s your birthday.”

I’d meant to lift his spirits, but the long pause after I finished made it evident that my efforts were for naught. He almost seemed even more upset than when he’d answered, and I tried to convince myself that it had nothing to do with me. It wasn’t that hard, considering he was probably staring at images or words of dead people.

“Yeah, sure feels like it.”

His tone alone ensured me it was worse than my imagination.

“Put your work down and pay attention to me instead,” I suggested as softly as I could with the neediness bleeding through, “That’s the first part of your present.”

“You’re my present?” he asked through a gruff laugh that made my heart skip a beat, “I like that present.”

He was trying. I could feel it in his voice, and I wished more than anything that I could teleport to where he was and hold him until it was too difficult for his mouth to form a frown.

“You already have me. That’d be like regifting,” I pointed out with only a pinch of self-deprecation. It was still too much for Spencer, though, who swiftly shot back the ever cheesy, “Every day with you is a gift.”

“Gross, don’t get all sentimental with me,” I ordered playfully.

He returned the energy with all the sass I always knew he was capable of. Once his whining ceased, he mumbled, “Do you come with a gift receipt?”

“No returns or exchanges allowed, I’m afraid.”

Spencer just let out a strained sigh, and in my head, I imagined how it would feel to climb onto his lap as he leaned back in his chair. I could almost feel his arms wrapping around my waist and his lips peppering kisses wherever he could reach. I could feel his love for me flowing across the country, persisting past the cell tower obstacles to make its way back to me.

“I can’t wait to see you again,” he whispered, his first purely sincere statement of the night.

It was an unfortunate choice, too, because it also reminded me of the biggest bummer that I unfortunately had to share.

“Oh, I meant to tell you, it’s midterm season, so…”

He was, thankfully, not as bummed as I was expecting. He was almost certainly thrilled to have a chance to sleep spread out on his bed without having to satisfy the very needy girl beside him, but he still managed to come up with enough bratty energy to scoff, “Are you telling me that I don’t get my gift when I get home?”

“It’ll just be a few days. Promise,” I spoke through the biggest, cheesiest smile I’d had yet. “You’re very distracting, Dr. Reid.”

“When are your exams?” His enthusiasm gave away just how disappointed he was with the news, but any frustration was clearly aimed at my poor professors.

“My last one is on Wednesday.”

The gasp that left him was too funny not to laugh, followed by exasperated, blubbered nonsense that didn’t ever get much clearer. I barely managed to understand him when he cried, “Don’t they know Halloween should be a national holiday?!”

“You should call my professors and yell at them.”

He actually considered it for a moment, but then returned the same silly intonation, “Maybe I will.”

“Do it. You’re probably more qualified than them to teach me, anyway.”

After a short silence that was filled with more sexual tension than I’d expected considering how the phone call started, I heard Spencer gruffly comment, “You’re a cocky little brat tonight.”

It was so familiar to me that I jumped on the opportunity, giggling through my sleep deprived delirium, “I’m in rare form for your birthday.”

The explanation earned me a chuckle, but not much else. At least, not that I could see. The static on the other end of the phone sounded a lot like the way it looked when Spencer leaned his face against his palm and tried to see something that wasn’t there.

But I was there. Sort of. We’d done a lot more with a lot less, after all. So, that’s what I offered him.

“You know… we could have a redo of the last time I called you late at night on a case.”

“That did not end well for me last time,” he droned. I tried not to laugh at the manufactured memory of Spencer holed up in a hotel bathroom because he just had to have me in whatever way he could.

“Only happy endings for your birthday. I promise.”

But then, as it always did, work got in the way. Filled with only the greatest sadness and regret, Spencer quietly but honestly replied, “As much as I would love to, I don’t think it’ll be possible on this case.”

“Is it that bad?”

“Unfortunately.”

I bit my lip because there was nothing I could do. I couldn’t help Spencer with his work any more than I could fix the distance. All I could offer him was a safe home to return to. He would always find that with me.

“Well, in that case, I will be equipped with cartoons and kisses upon your return,” I offered with grace.

But I wasn’t the only one in rare form. Without skipping a beat, Spencer corrected with a smug sadness, “You mean your return. Considering you’re abandoning me on my birthday.”

“Oh my god, the drama!” I cried before remembering that it was, still, in fact, 3AM. The light grimace I gave after remembering would be the only apology my neighbors would get from me. I was too busy building a narrative happy enough to drown out the horrors in front of him. “You’d think I was the one who was away all the time.”

“I’m allowed to be selfish; it’s my birthday,” he sang, and I soaked in the sound, storing it away for any rainy days.

“Fine. What do you want, brat?” I asked in the worst attempt at an impression I’d ever given.

He was just waiting for the question. Drawing out the first couple of syllables, he laughed through the stupidest birthday wish of all time.

“I want… you to go to bed.”

“Ugh!” I yelled again, not even bothering to feel bad about it that time. My exasperation fell on deaf ears, both from a willful desire to ignore my suffering and a literal ringing from the constant yelling.

Still, that impossible man drummed up enough compassion to gloat with a simple, “I love you.”

“I love you, too, jerk,” I grumbled, only to be swiftly corrected with a playful, “Try that again.”

“I love you, too, old man.”

He was satisfied enough with that answer, despite the sarcasm dripping from it. He still knew that the words were true, and that was all that mattered. Any punishments that might be necessary for my broken promise to behave for his birthday could always be doled out later. When the distance between us was narrowed to inches and clothes could be removed like cheap wrapping paper.

“Thank you, little girl. Sweet dreams,” he whispered, reminding me once more of just how empty my bed felt without him. I stared at his pillow for just one second before I threw myself into it. He chuckled at the sound of rustling sheets over the receiver but said nothing else.

“You get some sleep tonight, too, okay?” I asked, uncharacteristically and openly vulnerable in a way that used to scare me.

Spencer’s voice was filled with pride and love as he answered, “You can’t see it, but I am giving you a pinky promise.”

“Good.” Burying my face in his pillow again made it easier to remember that it wouldn’t be forever when I said, “Bye, Spencer.”

“Goodnight, little girl.”

—————————————————

Autumn on campus felt pretty similar to the rest of the year. I wished that it were different, a little more exciting, to reflect how I felt about the impending holiday. But no, it was just students stumbling into their usual classes and hectically scheduled midterms with hangovers and a total lack of holiday cheer.

It was, in a few words, a complete bummer. The only thing that kept me going through the last of my exams was the knowledge that I’d be seeing Spencer. Unfortunately, he was still doing that rather annoying thing where he refused to answer my text messages. It wasn’t until he ignored even my most ridiculous threats that I realized something was going on.

The ‘Read’ notification sat menacingly on my screen, and I was so fixated on it that I almost didn’t notice the familiar mop of brown curls visible in the front row of the auditorium. But once I saw it, the phone was forgotten faster than ever before. I ran down the steps at a ridiculously dangerous pace, dodging the others still grumbling from their previous exams.

I landed in front of him with only enough breath left to sneer, “You’re in my seat.”

“Surprise,” he said with my favorite smug, self-assured smile.

“Adorable. Now move,” I ordered with a wave of my hand. As much as I loved the guy, I wasn’t about to change my seating arrangement for him. It was beginning to make sense, though, why my friend told me that she wouldn’t be sitting with me today.

“Fine,” he sighed, taking his sweet time moving seats and watching me happily bounce on my feet in the meantime. I snuck behind him into the seat before he’d even fully stood up. That little amount of friction between our bodies seemed to be enough to cause the tension to mount. It’d only been seconds, but I was already seriously considering abandoning the class. To hell with the professor who’d already seen me.

But Spencer’s eyes locked on mine, and he leaned onto the armrest with that same silly smirk.

“It’s a workday, Dr. Reid,” I whispered, forcing my arm next to his and watching the way his pupils grew as I came closer.

“I might have pulled a few strings,” he replied just as quietly, keeping the illusion of secrecy despite many prying eyes around us, “Might’ve told Hotch I was invited.”

“But you weren’t,” I snorted.

Spencer’s head hung in just a little bit of shame, but his wide smile never waned. It was still there, bright and pure in its simplicity as he softly admitted, “Yeah. I lied. But I’m here now.”

There were no complaints about that fact, either. His pinky reached out to mine, twining together in the dim light of the auditorium. Somehow, for a brief second, I forgot about everything else. The noisy chatter meant nothing to me, the two of us lost in some alternate pocket universe that felt safe and warm from the cold air outside.

But time resumed, and I watched as Spencer took his eyes off of me first, turning instead to the lecturer watching us with a knowing glint in his eyes.

“Good morning everyone! We have a special guest with us today.”

I wanted to pay attention to his little introduction, but I couldn’t. Every word that was said about him sounded so clinical. It felt so empty compared to the truth I knew about him. He was so much more than a collection of publications and PhDs.

He was… indescribable. Even as his mouth formed a flat line and his awkward handshake was granted to the crowds of disinterested students, all I saw was the man I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. Even if it was only from the shadows of his greatness. Then again, I don’t think he’d ever let me feel that way.

Speaking of…

"Dr. Reid, the only thing I ask is for you to give these wonderful students a chance to show you what they know,” my professor started with a laugh before he so kindly continued, “So go easy on them."

In any other situation, I might have let it slide. I would have accepted the fact that Spencer was far beyond my intellect and not stand up for myself. But this time, Spencer was on my turf.

"All due respect to Dr. Reid, I don't think he needs to go easy on us,” I called from the front row, only audible to the other dutiful students that cared enough to sit up front. I heard Spencer laugh beside me, shaking his head just a little bit at the challenge. He didn’t say anything though, and I returned my eyes to the professor who was already familiar with my antics as I boasted, "At least not on me."

While Spencer caught on to the fairly obvious double entendre, shifting his crossed legs closer, the professor just wrote it off as my usual academic pride.

“I did try to warn you that that one might get competitive,” he commented. At this point, everyone had definitely figured out my relation to the man next to me. It was kind of hard to hide a bullet wound from your school. But again, I was so caught up in the man beside me that I didn’t even feel a little shame at their playful teasing.

Spencer’s commentary was the only thing that mattered, and he gave it with a dreamy sigh. "I'm not offended at all. I'm sure she's very clever."

The little bit of light left in the room started to fade, and once I was shrouded by the shadows, I felt confident enough in my plan to dig through the bag at my feet to pull out probably the nerdiest item in it.

A fucking back-up clicker. Which, I promptly handed to the man beside me.

“You’re in seat B4,” I whispered gruffly, earning yet another snarky chuckle from my boyfriend.

“Is that a challenge?”

I didn’t answer. Not him, anyway. What I did answer was the question that had appeared on the screen.

“Ms. (Y/n)?” My professor called, recognizing my seat number without even looking up.

Luckily for me, today was nothing but a review day of the midterm I’d already taken. While I knew all of the questions and, what I’d hoped were the right answers, Spencer had to read the questions from scratch. Really, it didn’t give me an edge. It just put us on equal playing ground.

As I gave my answer, I watched in my peripherals as Spencer’s eyes narrowed and tongue peeked out from lips that I still hadn’t gotten the chance to kiss today.

It was a bad thing to think about, because my brief reverie of the things that mouth was capable of reminded me of another one. I didn’t even notice another question had appeared on the screen, and when I heard the familiar buzz of an attempted answer, I shared my Professor’s temporary confusion.

“Ah, Dr. Reid,” he laughed, probably already regretting welcoming the bastard here, “Please explain the answer.”

But there was another thing working in my favor: My boyfriend’s giant fucking ego. Really, it should be impossible that someone who was normally super insecure could enjoy showing off as much as he did. My professor didn’t mind, because Spencer’s long-winded answer was a wonderful review of… basically the entire course, and I didn’t mind because it granted me the one thing I needed.

Time. Time to slowly remove my jacket and reveal the sweater underneath. Spencer’s eyes caught the motion, glancing over only a couple of times while he managed to give his answer. It wasn’t until I started to remove the sweater that he cut his answer short.

His throat clearing told me he wanted my attention, but I was still just too distracted for him. I fanned my chest that felt warm for reasons other than the temperature of the room, guaranteeing his eyes would stay there long enough for me to catch the next question before he had a chance.

Or so I thought. Because before the question appeared, I made the positively stupid mistake of meeting his gaze. As soon as I did, my mind was stuck there, drowning in molasses and honey and—

“Dr. Reid, please feel free to continue to do my job for me. Lord knows I would love a break,” the professor joked, and I almost felt guilty for just how genuine he sounded. Not like Spencer would have noticed passive aggression if it existed.

Not like either of us would have cared. Per usual, we were so lost in the space of B4 and B5 that we didn’t care about the rest of the alphabet. All we cared about was winning. It was growing more and more obvious to me, though, that I would have to become a little more ruthless if I wanted to bring down the bona fide genius.

The sound of his voice rang through the auditorium loud, clear, and confident. He didn’t need to worry if he was right or not, because he knew he was. The smugness was grating to my ears. I knew I couldn’t trick him into making a mistake, but there was one thing I could do.

I’d learned one thing very well in my time with Spencer, and that was how to manipulate that pretty little voice of his.

For example, if I wanted to hear it catch in his throat and come out a few pitches higher, all I would have to do is touch him. The riskier the touch, the higher his voice would go. Which was why I spread out the jacket over my lap, making sure that our legs were close enough that it covered him, too. Then I waited, calmly and kindly listening to him drone along until there was a natural enough inflection to hide evidence of any nefarious actions. Just as his voice started to rise, I slid my hand over his knee.

Spencer barely stuttered, just enough for me to know he was affected, but not enough for anyone else to notice. He took the loss with grace, quickly ending his answer with a summary that contained only half as many words as he would have normally provided.

He kept a few for me.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he hissed, shifting close enough to me that I could feel his breath on my ear.

“All’s fair in love and war,” I hummed. His breath caught again when I began stroking my thumb over his leg that had just started to bounce.

“This is wildly inappropriate.”

“How perceptive,” I returned with my own little smirk. The interaction caught us both, trapping us in the alternate dimension that existed when we held each other. His hand found its way to mine, and his thumb brushed over the back and sent goosebumps shooting over my skin.

I’d practically abandoned our pursuits altogether when I heard my friend’s voice as she took the question that we’d both missed. I should’ve been upset for losing after all that I’d gone through for my strategy to succeed, but it was hard to feel anything other than butterflies when Spencer was still looking at me like that.

Even when I looked away, he stayed, patiently waiting for me to take the final question in the review. I granted him a chance to take it, but he just shook his head, implicitly asking me to take the win for the both of us. Even when we were competing, we were always on the same team.

There were no more distractions as I explained the answer as simply as I could. I was positive the rest of the class was tired of hearing our voices, but Spencer never stopped smiling. I could feel the pride rolling off of him, his hand growing tighter around mine as he took in a deep breath.

“Very good, (y/n),” my professor announced, signaling the end and initiating a large sigh of relief from everyone else.

Spencer sighed too, although his was with a different kind of relief; a dreamy, soft sound as he muttered under his breath, “Just like I said. Very clever.”

The air felt positively electric, and I never hated my class more than I did in that moment. The rest of the period ticked by so slowly that I almost swore the clocks were broken. Once we were allowed to leave, Spencer insisted on sticking around to thank the professor for his hospitality.

I knew it was necessary, but that didn’t mean I had to like it. I tried to be as patient as possible, even though it seemed pointless. Spencer’s little grin told me he knew very well what he was doing. The conversation had dragged on for practically five minutes of agony while I idled by the door.

But then my professor passed, and I felt the adrenaline course through my veins in seconds. As anticipated, we didn’t even make it out of the building before the tension broke. We’d barely even made it down the goddamn hallway before I shoved his scrawny ass into the first empty classroom I found. Once the door clicked shut behind us, the roles were quickly reversed.

I hadn’t seen him that excited in so long that I’d almost forgotten how easy it was to get swept up in his undertow. I couldn’t keep track of his hands or his mouth as they marked any bare skin they could find. But no matter how frantic and uncoordinated the movements were, they never ceased to send chills down my spine.

“This is wildly inappropriate, Dr. Reid,” I managed to slur between sloppy, heated kisses. It was barely comprehensible through the pent-up lust that had driven us there in the first place, but it still felt worth saying.

Spencer, however, made his feelings very clear with a gruff, forceful, “I don’t care.”

His hands were already roaming over my hips, pulling me so close to the edge that I nearly fell off the counter entirely. While I was laughing at his haste, he was busy leaving angry marks on my collarbone, pulling the top of my shirt down to grant him more access. And despite how badly my body burned with desire and need, I drummed up just enough self-preservation to force out a few, regrettable words.

“Take me home.”

Even though I tried to make it sound more seductive than a normal request to stop, it brought the momentum to a halt. Spencer immediately stopped his kisses, but let his hands continue to stroke loving patterns over the sides of my thighs.

“Don’t you have other classes?” he asked. The feeling of his breath against my ears making me second-guess my already voiced decision. But as enticing as the idea was of having him now, having already waited over a week, I knew we could have so much more fun with a little bit of privacy.

“Don’t you have work?” I teased, hoping that it would spur him to take the action we both knew was safer. At the same time, I couldn’t stop myself from wanting to poke fun at the academic in him.

“Unless this is your way of telling me you've always wanted to fuck a girl in a lab because, I must admit I'd be more than happy to oblige."

Spencer’s whole body tensed as he imagined just what it would feel like to take me in such a public place. After a couple seconds that I can only imagine were filled with fantasies and a reasonable fear, he pulled me from my seat on the counter and placed me back on the ground.

“Let’s go,” he said, pulling me by my wrist towards the door.

I only barely managed to stop him with both hands on his arm. He turned back to look at me like I’d done some horrible thing, but I was too busy trying to stop the laughter that was spilling from my chest.

“You’re uh—” I cleared my throat, pointing to the very noticeable tent in his slacks before I keened through the giggles, “You’re gonna have to do something about that.”

With a quick glance down, Spencer remembered the very unfortunately obvious trait of the male anatomy. “Fuck,” he stated plainly.

I couldn’t resist.

“I mean, I’m down,” I joked one final time.

“Shut up!” Spencer laughed, too, trying and failing to adjust himself in his pants while I just enjoyed the show.

After all, we both knew that once we were alone, he would get a reprieve from my ridicule. He would get whatever he wanted.

—————————————————

The chaotic clashing of hands and mouths continued seconds after we’d reached our destination. The empty apartment had all of the sounds of our desperation echoing back to us, and after soaking in the melodious noise for a few seconds, I snapped back to reality.

“Okay, she doesn’t get home for another 30 minutes at the earliest so, we’d better hurry,” I urged, trying to shove Spencer off of me to convince him to move. It barely worked, with his arms clutching tighter the harder I struggled to get away.

Wrapped together just like that, the two of us barely made it a few feet before we almost tumbled to the ground. That was just enough of a reminder of our lack of coordination for Spencer to finally, begrudgingly, release me. Kind of. His hand still held tight to mine, and our laughter still combined the whole way to our bed.

From there, Spencer felt confident in our privacy to answer, “That’s fine. I usually tear open my gifts pretty quickly.”

It was a very good metaphor for the way his hands worked over my clothes. I didn’t even try to pinpoint the moment where being naked no longer made me feel nervous. I let the scar tissue show because neither of us were going to look at it, anyway. We were too caught up in the slight shifts and nuances of our faces as we rushed towards our one mutual goal.

“I missed you,” I mumbled, the words feeling as natural as breathing itself.

“I missed you, too,” he returned, and I felt the raw emotion, the sincerity and desire in every syllable. But once it was over and he had finally managed to remove everything but my underwear, all that was left was an all-encompassing, mind-altering level of lust.

“God, watching you in class was so fucking frustrating,” he strained, his upper lip curling with disdain as he watched my body squirm against the sheets.

“Why’s that?”

“I wanted you so badly.”

There was no denying that it was the honest truth, and I didn’t even want to try. I wanted to gloat and bask in the confirmation that his presence was dangerous for my academic career. Not to mention my sanity.

“Like I said. You’re very distracting.”

Then, to prove my point, that brilliant bastard shoved his hand under the band of my underwear. He only held me softly for one second before he slid his fingers through the slickness and thrust them roughly into me. It hadn’t been that long, but the emptiness I felt before was even more apparent now that I had any part of him inside of me again.

“Am I?” he chimed with a smile.

I wanted to be bratty, to fight the tension that was building and appear unfazed by his ministrations, but there was simply no pretending. Not when my body was already on the verge of spasming around his fingers that seemed to stroke the perfect place within me with every movement.

“Jesus Christ,” I sighed. I should’ve known better than to give him ammunition.

“You’ve resorted to blasphemy already?”

Spencer partnered the tease with a ruthless thrust, burying his fingers to the knuckle inside of me and holding them there. He waited until I ran out of breath and struggled to take another while also trying not to scream in a mixture of frustration and devastating need for more.

“I thought I told you we had to hurry?”

“We’ve got time,” he shot back without pause, “You’re just being a needy little brat.”

“Yes, I am,” I whined just as quickly, “I’m a fucking brat and I need you.”

He almost seemed disappointed in my compliance. His fingers began moving again, eliciting noises that were louder, higher, and sweeter after the anticipation. He tried to draw the attitude out of me by stopping again, waiting for a quip that didn’t come.

“Awww, no fight?” he cooed.

“I can’t. It’s your birthday,” I grumbled before biting my tongue. The pressure was becoming so unbearable I thought I might honestly draw blood. But after another few seconds of torture that felt like a lifetime, Spencer withdrew his hand completely.

He was testing the limits, watching how far I would let him go before begging. But even when he took the same soaked fingers and began rubbing me from the outside of my underwear, I only opened my mouth to steal quick, soft breaths and give pitiful whines.

“Oh, I like this…” he laughed, apparently having gotten past his concern about my sudden compliance, “I could get used to you behaving.”

The song-like cadence got to me, threatening to spark and ignite everything I was holding back. I almost bit back. I almost let the desire scorch my throat with a few choice words for the very rude genius, but I didn’t. The only thing that stopped me was the feel of cotton sliding down my thighs as he removed the final barrier between us.

“You’d miss my misbehaving,” I said with a chuckle. The sound mixed with another, a deep moan that filled my chest when I felt him press himself against my entrance. My back arched, causing him to slip inside of me just enough for us to both lose our words.

“I don’t know…”

If I’d wanted to say anything, my mouth wouldn’t have let me. It was too busy singing his praise while simultaneously begging him to silence it. My lips floundered for a kiss that he hung just far enough away from me to deny. Satisfaction was painted over every feature as he started to enter me, brushing his lips against my mouth every few seconds just to pull away before I was granted the intimacy I sought.

“You do look rather cute when you’re begging.”

It was strange, the way my body started to predict his movements. I met him in the middle of every motion, and I swore even our breath became synchronized in its rapid firing. It wasn’t until his hand rested over my throat we broke the rhythm. I wasn’t going to complain, letting the energy flow down my spine that arched towards him on instinct. His hips never stopped, and I could tell by the way his breath hitched and his fingers grew tighter around my neck that the new angle was as wonderful for him as it was for me.

“You look so sweet when you let go of every ounce of self-preservation and dignity you have and put your life in my hands,” he whispered with an affection that almost seemed odd considering the context. But then there was something else in his moans, a genuine gentleness that made my already arrhythmic heart beat faster.

“You know I’ll take care of you, don’t you?” he asked as his movements stayed calm and careful. Loving and safe.

I didn’t even notice my eyes had closed, but it ultimately didn’t matter. Because when I opened them, I saw the same man that existed in every image behind my eyelids. The only indication he got that I was still capable of communication was the gentle curve of my lips that dropped open in a pleased sigh as his hips continued a slow, tender pace.

It still felt like too much, but not in a bad way. It was too much in the sense that I was reminded once again just how ruined he’d made me. And the smug little shit knew it, too.

“You don’t have a single thought in that pretty little head, do you?” he cooed, dragging his hand up the column of my throat to force his fingers against my tongue. True to my word, I didn’t try to fight back. I soaked the digits that still tasted like me with my jaw left open. His pupils dilated as he watched the spit pool in my mouth that awaited his instruction.

“You just want to be used. Like the perfect little doll you are.”

Unlike my own, his smile was more of a smirk. A crooked, ever so slightly wicked quirk that made my muscles tense around him in their own version of an affirmative answer. He took it, happily. His body crashed into mine, but it merely felt like an extension of myself returning home like the waves meeting the shore. I could feel him claiming his rightful place at the deepest parts of me, making his home with every powerful motion of his hips.

I could hardly breathe, let alone think. I didn’t want to. It felt unnecessary.

“My sweet little girl,” he muttered with an unbelievably chaste kiss in the center of my forehead, “You’d do anything to make your daddy happy.”

I felt detached from myself in a way that didn’t feel me with fear or pain. I could feel myself through his hands, strong and working the pliable flesh of my thighs as he held them up so that he could drive into me harder.

His eyes, also only half open, burned with intensity. I could feel the determination, the undying desire to grant me a serenity that no one else could. His need for me to feel safe and loved with the seemingly contradictory brutality.

But it wasn’t contradictory. The power behind every movement, the insistence on being as close to me as he possibly could, might have caused some physical pain, but it was nothing compared to the pleasure of sharing this space with him. Of sharing my body with him just to see what he would do with it. I already knew, but I wanted to feel it again and again. Because with each stroke of his hand and thrust of his hips, I felt it.

Spencer had free rein to do whatever he wanted, and he chose to love me.

“I’m so close. You know what I want,” he pleaded despite holding all of the power. He handed it to me with a low groan, trying to kiss my lips while he commanded, “Do it. Come for me.”

My body obeyed his command, falling to pieces around him with shockwaves breaking over every inch of me. My vision went white, crafting a halo of light around him as he also found himself reaching a peak that seemed different than the times we’d shared before.

I tried to figure out what had changed, what about this time made it unique. But as the euphoria faded, all I saw staring back at me was the same face as always, radiating a joy and understanding that warmed damp, chilly skin. Spencer’s release provided a similar warmth within me, and my body clung to him even tighter despite the exhaustion.

My breathing took its time to even out, but I was in no rush to leave him. I would have stayed like that forever, with Spencer covering me like the silliest, boniest blanket. If it wasn’t for the dead weight he eventually dropped on me, we probably would’ve spent the whole day lost in the covers. But he could thank the scars for me being a little less forgiving.

Of course, thankful is not the word to describe him at all. Whiny was more like it. Even as I turned our bodies together so that I would still be sitting on his lap, he did nothing but groan and bitch about it. That is, until I silenced him with a kiss that barely brushed over his lips.

That was enough to turn his frown back to the dopey smile I loved so much.

“Happy birthday, old man,” I purred, enjoying the way his hands grabbed me tighter at the loving nickname. But age wasn’t what was on his mind. I could see it in the way his eyes tore past my defenses and he held me closer like we could actually become one if he tried hard enough.

“I’m so in love with you, it’s infuriating,” he whispered.

“I’ve heard that one before.”

Spencer wasn’t in a joking mood, though. All of his humor seemed to be expended earlier in the day, and now he was just left with all the mushy, romantic innards that I normally kept at bay.

It wasn’t that bad, though, I thought as his hands framed my face so our foreheads would touch. There were worse things to be trapped with.

“It’s true,” he mumbled with his voice still high and slurred together, “I look at you and there is just… nothing that can be said that would ever explain the way it feels.”

“Gross,” I joked.

“Get used to it,” he returned. And if that wasn’t enough to make me laugh, he stuck his tongue out in the most childish display I’d seen from him since he’d fucking licked my hand on our picnic. It was also just charming enough that I was willing to let the sappy stuff slide.

“I’ll be nice to you this time,” I grumbled. “But also, speaking of time, you’d better hurry up if you don’t want to do the walk of shame with an audience.”

Spencer’s arms fell limp with a dramatic cry before he used them to cover his face once more.

“Ugh. Go,” he ordered. Despite his words, he still made me fight against greedy hands to wrestle my way out of bed. It would have been smarter to let me go quickly. I really don’t know what he was thinking, but he would learn his mistake soon enough. Because as I was finishing up in the bathroom, I heard a very amused voice chiming down the hall on the other side of the door.

“Good afternoon, Spencer.”

I debated not opening the door and freeing Spencer from the unbelievably uncomfortable position he’d just found himself in, but ultimately decided it was too cruel. Still, the stalling had taken up enough time that the poor guy felt compelled to reply.

And, of course, the only thing he could think to say was a pathetic, high pitched, “Hi.”

Somehow managing to contain the absolutely riotous laughter I felt in my gut, I opened the door with the straightest face I could muster.

It wasn’t enough. Spencer saw the pleasure I took in his humiliation and practically shoved me out of the bathroom to take my place behind the doors. While I found the action endearing in the most awkward way, my roommate was mostly just confused about how the fuck I’d managed to find someone as stupid as me.

“I didn’t know he was coming,” she said once she managed to smile at the silly situation.

Clearing my throat, I tried to sound sincere in my bullshit apology. “Me either, sorry.”

In a way, I think the fact I couldn’t pull myself together worked in my favor. Normally, she would have scolded me (albeit playfully) for not alerting her of what she might be walking in on, but this time, she just tried to withhold the smile that still stretched over her cheeks despite her best efforts.

“You’re fine,” she sighed, giving in to the desire to go against her usual grumpy demeanor before retreating to her own room. “Have fun, you hooligans.”

Once her door clicked shut, I heard shuffling on the other side of the door next to me. Spencer’s shadow was visible from the light peeking out underneath, and I waited a few more restless seconds before I announced, “You can come out now, Spencer.”

Cautiously, the door creaked open just enough for his head to poke out and confirm that I wasn’t trying to trick him.

“I’ve never been a hooligan before,” he said with a bounce in his step and his eyebrows halfway up his face. To think that he was the same man who threatened to arrest me for existing at a nightclub was, in a word, hilarious.

“Well, good news for you,” I purred, and the sound must have reminded him of my more devilish nature, because his jubilance quickly shifted back to an obvious anxiety. I wrapped my arms around him even when it meant that his muscles tensed, dragging him down so I could whisper in his ear, “I was just about to ask if you wanted to help me play hooky.”

“And do what?”

It felt strange to say that I hadn’t really thought about it. That the second I’d seen him I knew that the day would be good and free and fun. That everything felt so perfectly fine that I didn’t even want to challenge it with a schedule.

Spencer looked at me, his answer apparent in the way he started to relax the longer we stayed wrapped up in a shitty apartment hallway. It didn’t matter what I said. Spencer would have followed me, just like I would have done for him.

And without the angst or uncertainty of what could go wrong, there was only one thing left for us to do. With a shrug and pout, I proposed the riskiest plan we’d had yet.

“Whatever we want.”

—————————————————

| Finale |

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid smut #spencer reid imagine #here to misbehave #h2m #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid series #reid series #spencer reid request #criminal minds self insert #criminal minds smut #dr spencer reid #reid request

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docholligay · 4 years ago

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I’m sorry if this is too personal. I was really late for work today and now i feel like a total lump of trash.( first real job). Any words of advice besides don’t oversleep?

I mean, don't oversleep is the best way to avoid feeling like this in the future. Not being late is the best way to avoid the feeling of shittiness, over being late.

I’m not sure whether you want advice on not being late, or on not feeling like a piece of shit, so we’ll double prong it. At least half of the “stop being late” advice, you and anyone else reading this won’t take, but at the very least I can say I put it out there.

I have ADHD, and so a lot of those tips are based around what works for me, but certainly you don’t have to have ADHD to use them--inattention is a sign of a million different things, as is executive dysfunction, and sleep disruption is basically normal in our constantly connected culture. You don’t need any pedigree to use this.

On Not Being Late, With Special Attention to Sleeping.

Go to bed at a decent hour.

Figure out how much sleep you need in a night to move quickly in the morning, and move your bedtime back so you have a certain amount of cushion in the morning, depending on how far you live from work. It may annoy you to go to bed at 9, 10, etc, but you want to be a human being who does well at your job, and that takes certain sacrifices.

Don’t just lay in bed, sleep

Here’s the one no one will listen to me on: TURN OFF YOUR FUCKING PHONE AND PUT IT ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE ROOM. PUT IT THE FUCK DOWN. Not only does it keep you awake for longer, but you’ll roll over at 2 am to “check the time” and end up on it for at least another half hour. You can keep it next to you if you legit have the willpower not to pick it up--I am not allowed to pick mine up from about 11:30 to 6 am, and I’m fine with that--but most people especially starting out, just don’t. Our addiction centers have been hijacked by technology in a ton of ways. If you need a transition, I really highly recommend getting a real, physical book and reading for about an hour before you go to sleep.

But I can’t sleep, I just lay there! Well, just lay there in the darkness!! Have some meditation and alone time! When I was a kid, my mom always used to tell met that I didn’t have to sleep, but I did have to rest. I still wake up every night about 3ish and stay awake for about a half hour/hour, but I don’t grab anything! I write stories in my head, I think about things, and eventually I go back to sleep. Meditate, recite poetry, whatever, but DON’T GRAB YOUR PHONE.

Get a very loud alarm clock and put it on the other side of the room.

When I was in high school I literally had this:

youtube

With the volume turned ALL the way up, playing reveille. It was the only way, really, to get myself up and get moving. I’m a lot better now, but in initial training, it was really tough for me. Putting it on the other side of the room means you can’t hit snooze. Don’t. Snooze is dead to you now. Snooze isn’t helpful and half the time you go back to a fitful sleep, and for what?

Leave your phone alone while you get ready.

I wake up early so that I can do my morning routine of reading the NYT on my phone. If you need “phone time” in the morning, make it a specific, laid out thing, not come endless scroll while you’re supposed to be doing other shit. My alarm goes off, I grab my phone and read, another alarm goes off, and it’s time to set down my phone and get dressed. Set multiple alarms for yourself, ONE MINUTE APART, NOT FIVE, if you have trouble setting down your phone. Annoy yourself into compliance. Set it down, and leave it at your bedside table. If you forget and pick it up, correct yourself, set it down, and keep getting ready. I find it useful if I’m having a rough time of it to put it by the door, or something, somewhere inconvenient.

Lay stuff out the night before.

Clothes, breakfast, etc. Then you can basically run through like a whirlwind. I can be ready in 30 minutes or less, generally, which ALSO gives me some slack.

All this has helped me IMMENSELY over the years and I do pretty well now!

On Not Feeling Like a Piece of Shit

I am a big believer in the useful qualities of guilt! Guilt is often a good guide for ourselves about the things we probably should be doing. We feel guilty blowing our entire afternoon refreshing tumblr/fb/etc because it’s a dumbass way to waste a lifetime. That being said, like anything in life, it has its limitations.

Are you working toward doing better next time, in a real, concrete way? Have you put things into place to try and make it less likely to happen? Than the guilt has served its purpose. You can release it. Even go all Marie Kondo and thank it for having shown you more of the person you’d like to be, but then let it go. Clinging to it out of some desire to self-flagellate without purpose is a kind of self-centered behavior. Who benefits from you stewing in your own natural juices?

DO we all do it? Of course we do, we’re only human, after all. But I want to encourage you that when you think, “I was really late for work one day, I’m a stupid piece of shit” you answer, “I made a mistake because I’m new to the workforce, and that sucks, but I’m taking steps to make sure it doesn’t keep happening. What more can I ask of me?” and if the answer comes back, “Well, you’re not putting your phone down/going to bed responsibly/etc” then recommit yourself to doing that! But I think, if you’re working, and you are sincere with yourself, you’ll find that sometimes the answer is, “I think I’m asking all of me that I can” in which case, you have no responsibility or even right to hate yourself over it.

It involves a lot of level of honesty with ourselves, but I believe that you’re capable of it. Be FAIR to yourself. And being fair is neither permissive nor cruel. If you’re doing your best, you hav to give yourself permission to forgive yourself. A mistake isn’t worth castigating yourself over. It’s really only repeated patterns of behavior where I think you’re allowed to give yourself a little bit of a spanking, and I’ve been on that side, for sure. But always think, “Is this FAIR to me? Would I consider this FAIR to someone else?”

I mean if I had an otherwise good employee who was really late once, I would think of the times I’ve completely fucked up my schedule. Once is nothing! I’d probably ask if everything was okay, and as long as it wasn’t a repeated thing, no big deal.

#Anonymous

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janeofcakes · 3 years ago

Text

Soulmate: How John Met Sherlock...Again Chapter 2

Hello, my friends! I come to you today knowing there is but one burning question in your minds today: What will Gracie and Olive get up to next? Okay, maybe two: When the hell will John and Sherlock meet, Jane? Tell me. Tell me now! Haha. Patience, my lovelies. You know I can't write a story without stringing you along for a while first. I am very firmly on the naughty list and like our dear friend, Martin Freeman I cannot abide being on anyone's nice list. Mwahaha.

I also wanted to say that the next few chapters are not as long as the first. There was so much to get through in that one. I hope you aren't disappointed. The good news is my typing and editing are going well so I should be able to keep my weekend schedule. Hooray!Happy reading. Jane

----

Gracie casts a side look at Olive from where she sits on the jungle gym. It is afternoon break and the two girls just climbed frantically up the poles and bars to sit at the top for a rest after running themselves ragged all over the playground pretending to be Nancy Drew and George Fayne solving a mystery. Every day since Monday has gone more or less the same way. They play together for morning break, talk at lunch and play again in the afternoon. They write notes on one another’s notebooks during lessons, but manage not to disrupt class or miss instruction. It has been a truly amazing first week of school, better than Gracie could have ever imagined.

Gracie looks at Olive again and feels her throat swell. It’s like she has known Olive forever. They seem to always understand each other and be in perfect sync. Gracie has talked about nothing else at home and has even dreamed about playing with Olive each night. Olive has told her all kinds of things about London and its history. Tower Bridge, London Bridge, the National Theatre, but what Gracie is most interested in seeing is the Tower of London. She asked her father just last night if they could go sometime to see the old castle and the crown jewels. She can’t wait to see and do everything, and it would be even better if Olive could come along for some of it. London is much more exciting than Bath ever was, hands down!

“Gracie,” Olive begins in a lazy tone, “how do you feel about bees?”

Turning to face her friend fully, Gracie furrows her brow and frowns. Olive does not react to the movement and continues looking at something in the distance, or perhaps at nothing at all. Gracie says nothing at first, wondering if Olive had been talking before and all Gracie heard was the bee question. The taller girl finally turns her head and fixes the blonde with an inquisitive gaze. Gracie frowns as she considers the question. She is not really partial to any insect, nor is she upset by them.

“They’re all right, I guess,” Gracie shrugs. “They make honey, so there’s that.”

“Mm…” Olives hums in approval. “True.”

Gracie raises her brows, every inch of her face asking ‘What are you on about?’. Olive blinks and seems to realize she was lost in her own mind, leaving Gracie with absolutely no context for the question.

“That’s what my dad wants to do when he retires,” Olive explains. “Beekeeping. In Sussex, probably.”

Oh no. This can’t be happening. Gracie just met Olive and had the best week of her life and now she’s going to lose her to bees?!

“You’d leave London then?” Gracie chokes on the words, not even trying to hide her distress.

“Yeah,” Olive answers absently, playing with the end of her long braid. “He says they’re fascinating.”

Gracie’s whole body tenses and her stomach roils. She feels sick and a bit dizzy when she glances away from Olive to a girl laughing wildly on the swings. It’s like a bad dream spiraling out of control to the soundtrack of that girl’s mad laughter. Gracie bites her lip hard to ground herself and looks back at Olive.

“Is he close to retiring?” Gracie forces out, beads of sweat beginning to collect at her temples.

“What? No,” Olive huffs a laugh and looks at Gracie again. “He’s definitely old, but not ancient. He has too much fun working anyway. Hey, are you okay?”

“Fun?” Gracie asks incredulously, ignoring her friend’s inquiry. “At a crime scene?”

“Oh, yeah, he loves it,” Olive laughs, seeing Gracie begin to relax. “He loves a good mystery. Locked room murders are his favorite.”

“Wow,” Gracie mutters, only half understanding what that means.

“He used to have a partner, you know,” Olive adds with a grin. “He loved it even more then.”

“So he had his own Clue Crew?” excited energy vibrates through Gracie’s body as she pictures a grown up and male version of Olive with a man and woman posed behind him like on Charlie’s Angels. Gracie’s dad loves old shows and movies, so she has seen her fair share. James Bond is his favorite. She makes a note to ask Olive if she has ever seen any of them.

“Not a crew,” the brunette corrects. “Just the one partner. They solved all kinds of cases together. They were best friends.”

“Like us?”

“Yep, exactly like us,” Olive says with a flash of teeth. Gracie grins too and is about to ask about Bond when something else pops to the forefront of her mind.

“Oh! It’s like my dad’s bedtime stories!” Gracie blurts eagerly. “Sam Williams and Dean Jensen. They’re best friends and solve crimes together. That’s how I got started on Nancy Drew in the first place. Dad’s read some of the old ones to me.”

“Really?” Olive cries. “Oh! Oh! Mystery of the 99 Steps?”

“That’s my favorite!” Gracie shrieks, her hands flying to her cheeks.

“Mine too!” Olive gasps.

“Girls,” the teacher on duty calls up to them from the ground below. They look down at her, all wide eyes and smiles. “Time to go back inside.”

They climb down as the teacher walks away to tell other kids. The two girls bound towards the school, slowing to a walk as they get closer. Gracie feels something brush against her hand and glances at it just in time to see Olive’s longer fingers wrap around it. She shifts her wide eyes to her friend’s, barely able to contain her joy.

“We should get our dads to read us the same old Nancy Drew book, a chapter each night,” Olive tells her conspiratorially. “Then we can compare notes the next day and see if we can solve it before Nancy.”

“That’s the best idea!” Gracie crows. “We can figure out which one during library time.”

“And then you check it out,” Olive says decisively. “Mrs. Hudson has all of them. I can borrow it from her.”

“Ok,” Gracie agrees, already knowing so much about Olive’s godmother that she doesn’t even question the woman would have the whole series. Honestly, Gracie wants to meet her almost as much as she wants to meet Olive’s detective father.

The two girls giggle for a moment at their new plan and then skip into the school building.

***

Saturday afternoon finds Gracie hand in hand with Candace McCleary, a nanny John handpicked while Gracie was still in Bath. They met the day after Gracie arrived last week and she instantly fell in love with Candace, much to John’s relief. Candace would not be a live-in nanny, but is employed like one. John needs her to get Gracie from school and stay with her until he gets home in the evenings. He also needs her to be available at a moment’s notice for when an emergency, like the birth of a baby, arises. John had warned his daughter after Angela Taylor’s check-up on Wednesday that he thought the baby would come early and probably at a most inconvenient time. Sure enough, he received the call just as he started lunch. Gracie was disappointed that her first trip to Hanover Gate Children’s Playground in Regent’s Park would be without her father, but was still over the moon when Candace was happy to take her. She had been looking forward to it almost all week.

“Oh my gosh!” Gracie exclaims as she and Candace approach the playground. There is equipment everywhere to climb and swing on and slide down. Gracie immediately decides the sandpit is first on her list. A tall tree stands in its center with wooden bridges and walkways built all around it. Rope ladders and nets offer admittance and there is even a hammock to sit on. “Candace, this is amazing! This is the best park ever!”

“Why don’t you jump right in?” the woman laughs. “I’ll just be right on this bench if you need me.”

Candace points to an empty green bench as she speaks and starts heading for it before someone else claims it. Gracie calls out her agreement and makes a b-line for the nearest rope ladder. She is up it in seconds and running across a bouncy bridge, laughing all the way. She runs the whole course, turns right back around and does it again. There are quite a few kids in this part of the park, but it’s still easy to work her way around them. After a few more laps on the equipment, a small group of kids asks Gracie to play tag. She recognizes them from school and accepts.

A good hour later, two of the kids have to go home and Gracie is exhausted. She begs off, having had her mind set on playing in the sand since she and Candace got there. Plopping down in a shady spot, she plunges her hands beneath the beige and brown grains. The sand is cool and dry and feels soft in between her fingers, not like the rough sand that is sometimes used in parks. It’s like the white sand from a beach. She has half a mind to pull her shoes off and let her feet sink into its depths. Gracie closes her eyes and wiggles her fingers, feeling the sand move around them like a favorite blanket. She opens her eyes as she curls her fingers around the tiny grains and watches them slip through when she lifts her hands.

Gracie does this again and again until she grabs a stick and begins to drag it through the sand like a plow. At one point, she makes a short trench and plants sunflower seeds and raisins from the snack baggy in her pocket. She pats the sand with satisfaction after covering them and looks toward the bench where Candace sits. She waves and her nanny waves back. Gracie giggles and gets to her knees, but stops when a figure just sitting down on the hammock suddenly blocks her view of Candace.

“What the…” Gracie mutters, her mouth falling open in disbelief. She gets to her feet and runs straight for the rope hammock and its occupant, who hears her footfalls and looks up with blue-grey eyes.

“Gracie!” Olive cries in surprise as her friend trips in the sand and drops face-first next to the hammock. “Gracie?”

“I’m okay,” the blonde girl declares, pushing herself up and standing quickly. The two girls lock eyes and start laughing. “What are you doing here?”

“We come every weekend,” Olive replies, pulling Gracie onto the woven rope. “Our flat’s just that way.”

“Really?” Gracie gasps with a delighted squeak. She points in the opposite direction. “Mine’s that way.”

“No way!” Olive shouts with glee. “That’s amazing! I had no idea we lived so close.”

“I know right,” Gracie exclaims, beginning to rock the hammock a bit. Olive unfolds her legs to hang them down and help push. “What are the odds?”

“Well,” Olive considers, adopting her contemplative face. Gracie knows instantly that a deduction is coming. She giggles and her smile widens as she watches her best friend. “Since we go to the same school, it seems fairly likely that we would live close together because it’s usually based on geography. However, it’s a bit different with public school. Kids can come from all parts of London as long as they have the money to pay.”

“Oh my god,” Gracie can barely contain her excitement and she stamps a foot on the ground a few times. “We could play here every weekend! I’m sure I could get Dad to bring me.”

“Yes! Let’s set it up now,” Olive sits up straight, ready to jump off the netting. “Is your dad here?”

“No, he had to deliver a baby,” Gracie rolls her eyes. Olive makes a dismissive noise that sounds like she just opened an air-tight container and sinks back into the hammock “Exactly. I mean, babies are important and all, but now he has to wait another week to see all this.”

Gracie swings her arms out wide and tilts her head skyward before flopping unceremoniously onto her back. Olive lets herself tip backwards as well and they soon lie side by side, looking up at the clouds. Gracie points out one that looks like a panda and proceeds to tell her friend all sorts of facts about pandas.

“I even have a panda,” she finishes.

“You do?” Olive asks, her eyes widen with wonder.

“Since I was three,” Gracie nods. “She’s my favorite stuffie. She’s called Pandy and I sleep with her every night.”

“I have a bee,” Olive says without hesitation. “I call him Wellington, sometimes Wellies for short.”

“Do you like bees as much as your dad does?” Gracie is curious because Wellington might have been a gift like Pandy was, but it certainly sparked her interest in pandas.

“I don’t think anyone could like them as much as Dad,” Olive huffs a laugh, “but yeah, I definitely like them too. It’s amazing how they make honey and their whole society and all.”

“Wow. Would you tell me?” Gracie fixes her with a serious gaze and licks her lips. “I loooove honey.”

“Sure, and you can tell me more about pandas,” Olive grins and points to a medium-sized cloud. “That one looks like a catapult.”

Gracie cocks a brow and follows her finger to a cloud that, amazingly enough, does resemble a rudimentary catapult.

The afternoon passes as the two girls tell each other stories and make up new games, their favorite being pirates sailing their hammock boat across the sea to a mysterious island. They leave their spot at this point to explore sandy beaches, nearly being vanquished by a giant hippo and almost losing Olive beneath quicksand. Gracie keeps her head about her and is always within Candace’s line of sight, and it’s a good thing too because the two girls are interrupted as tea time nears.

“I knew I’d find you here,” a low rumble of a voice comes from behind Gracie where she sits facing Olive. They have just dug up a treasure of sunflowers and raisins, a very valuable find on the sea. Their eyes grow wide as a menacing laugh fills the air around them. Gracie swallows hard and turns slowly to see the towering silhouette of a man in a billowy black coat. She shields her eyes, but with the sun behind him, she cannot make out his features. He probably has an eye patch and everything.

“What are you doing on my island?” the man demands as he steps closer. Gracie gasps and pushes herself backwards toward Olive to get away from the dark figure only just coming into focus.

“Hi, girls. Is everything okay?” Candace McCleary asks from the right and Gracie glances at her gratefully. Her trusty companion must have bolted from her park bench as soon as the giant appeared. Now she stands alert as though ready to pounce and Gracie breathes a sigh of relief. She hadn’t even seen this man until it was too late. Gracie grits her teeth and silently berates herself as her father’s words about being observant come to mind.

“Uhhh…” Gracie finds her voice, but it comes out as a meek croak. Meanwhile, Olive leaps up next to her and runs for the figure with open arms. Gracie gapes, sure she is about to see her friend eaten before her very eyes.

“Daddy!” Olive cries, launching herself into the man’s arms. Gracie blinks and it is like a cloud has moved from where it had covered the sun. The giant, no longer in the shadows, transforms into a tall man wearing a nice suit with no tie and a long coat. Gracie finds herself marveling at the fact that he doesn’t appear to be hot in the slightest and momentarily wonders if he has ice in his pockets, but stops all speculation when she sees his face. Angles and cheeks like Olive, dark curls and the same grey eyes that seem to change from green to blue and back. The corners of Gracie’s mouth turn up and a sense of ease washes over her.

“Is it time to go already?” Olive is speaking at a mile a minute. “We only just started playing pirates. Can Gracie come home with us? We’re having Thai for dinner. I bet she’ll like it.”

The tall man chuckles at his daughter and the sound is like a really warm blanket, soft and comfy. He glances at Candace and settles his gaze on Gracie. She bristles for a moment at those all-seeing eyes. It’s true they are like Olive’s, but much wiser. Gracie has the feeling he is learning much more from just watching her than anyone else can. She’s not entirely sure how she feels about that, but supposes it’s why Olive is so perceptive and she loves her. Besides, this is her dad. Gracie feels like she knows him already after all the stories she has heard.

“Ah, so this is the infamous Gracie,” Sherlock says surreptitiously with a look in Olive’s direction. The girl smiles broadly and nods while Gracie smiles a little timidly. His chin dips in greeting. “I’ve heard a great deal about you.”

“I know a lot about you too,” Gracie replies as she rises, finding her tenacity again.

“Of that, I have no doubt,” Sherlock answers. He turns his attention to Candace, who still looks a touch uneasy. “And this is your friend?”

“Yeah,” Gracie confirms enthusiastically. “This is Candace.”

She jumps up and grabs Olive’s hand, pulling her toward the young woman.

“And this is Olive,” she exclaims.

“Oh,” the last traces of suspicion vanish from Candace’s eyes and she gestures at the girls. “Of course. You’re Olive. Gracie has been telling me about you all week.” “And this is my dad,” Olive introduces. “Sher…”

“William,” Sherlock interrupts, offering his hand. Candace steps forward and takes it in a firm shake. “Will.”

“Nice to meet you,” Candace replies, not noticing the quizzical look on Olive’s face, but Gracie sees. She also sees Sherlock glance at his daughter and communicate something that clears the confusion from Olive’s mind in an instant. Gracie tilts her head in thought, considering this new information. She and John can do that sometimes too. It makes her that much more certain that Olive is meant to be her best friend.

“It’s quite a coincidence them meeting in the park like this,” Candace is saying when Gracie emerges from her thoughts. “Do you live around here?”

“Yes, just on Baker Street,” Sherlock answers politely, but with a tinge of the tone Olive has when she mutters that something is obvious. Gracie lets out a quick giggle.

“Oh, right,” Candace nods with a friendly smile. “That’s not far at all. Maybe we’ll see you here again.”

“I wouldn’t doubt it,” Sherlock looks down at the two girls, both of which are very excited. Olive is almost dancing in place and Gracie would swear she needed the toilet if she didn’t know better. “We’re here every Saturday just after lunch.”

“Perfect,” Candace says. “That’s about when we arrived. I’ll let her father know too. He’ll usually be the one who brings her.”

“He had a baby to deliver,” Gracie supplies. “He’s a doctor.”

“So Olive tells me,” Sherlock tells her with a certain mirth in his tone. “I would very much like to meet him, especially now that I’ve met you.”

“He’s wanted to all week,” Olive exclaims, giving Gracie’s hand a squeeze. “Ever since the first day.”

“I just can’t believe we ran into each other like this,” Candace declares, still a little dumbfounded.

Gracie doesn’t hear Sherlock’s response because Olive leans in close to whisper in her ear how great it will be when their fathers meet. The blonde nods her head vigorously and they laugh together quietly.

“Oh my, it’s nearly tea time,” Candace says to her watch. “I have to get her home. Are you ready, Gracie?”

“I guess so,” the girl pouts. She throws her arms around Olive in a huge hug. “I can’t wait to see you on Monday.”

Gracie gasps and looks at Olive with wide eyes, her hands still clamped around her arms.

“I’m going to write you a special note tomorrow and make a comic with my favorite markers,” she announces with glee. “They smell like strawberries and grapes and stuff.”

“Oh, wow!” Olive hoots. “I’ll make one of my maps for you.”

“It could be of this park!” Gracie shouts as Candace’s mobile sounds. She pulls it from her pocket and glances at its screen, pressing the surface to turn off the alarm.

“We really have to be going,” Candace says apologetically. “It was so nice to meet you both.”

“And you as well,” Sherlock dips his chin in farewell as Candace takes Gracie’s hand and leads her away.

“Bye, Gracie!” Olive calls, waving madly.

“Bye!” the blonde shouts back.

Olive waves for a good thirty seconds and then turns to face her father with her arms crossed over her chest. She raises a brow expectantly and Sherlock knows precisely why, but says nothing.

“Let’s go, shall we?” he begins walking toward home, knowing she will follow. “I believe Mrs. Hudson is making fresh biscuits.”

“What was that about, Dad?” Olive asks in disbelief, already matching his steps. “Why William?”

“You know I use aliases at times,” Sherlock replies without looking at her.

“Yeah, for cases, but these aren’t criminals,” Olive insists. “These are my friends.”

“I know, love,” he turns his head to see her earnest expression looking up at him. “I just don’t want to prejudice Gracie’s father.”

“What’s prejudice?” Olive furrows her brow as she repeats the word.

“Well, you know my profession can be dangerous,” Sherlock begins.

“Yeah…” Olive says slowly, eyeing him curiously.

“A lot of people know that because they see my name in the media,” he explains. “I don’t want Gracie’s father to hear my name and assume Gracie will be in danger. I’m concerned he will get the wrong impression and feel uncomfortable about you being friends.”

“Oh,” Olive says flatly as if she hadn’t considered that. They walk in silence for a moment until she speaks up again. He knew she would. She is too smart and inquisitive not to have follow-up questions. “So what are you going to do when we’ve been friends for months and it’s time to tell them your real name? Say ‘By the way, my name is really Sherlock Holmes.’?”

Sherlock gives her a withering look and says nothing. Her jaw drops and she shoves him lightly.

“Dad! You can’t NOT tell them,” Olive insists. She bends at the knees slightly to emphasize the word not. “It’s dishonest. Dad, it’s lying.”

“Sometimes we lie for the greater good,” Sherlock tells her curtly.

“Now you sound like Mycroft,” Olive sneers and that stops Sherlock dead in his tracks. He turns to face her, dropping into a squat and meeting her eyes.

“I would do anything for you, Olive,” he says sincerely, resting his hands on her shoulders. She curls the corner of her mouth and cocks a brow.

“Dad,” Olive begins matter-of-factly, “I know that and I would do anything for you too, but you told me I couldn’t lie.”

“Yes. Yes, I did,” Sherlock sighs and then continues resolutely. “You’re right. I’ll introduce myself properly when we meet Gracie’s father. Okay?”

“Okay,” Olive grins and they walk again, hand in hand.

“Olive?” Sherlock says, glancing her way. She looks up at him in answer. “Don’t compare me to Mycroft again.”

Olive lets out a quiet chortle and tightens her grip on his fingers.

“Desperate measures,” she replies more than a little pleased with herself. Sherlock puffs a quick breath through his nose and smirks as they walk on. Like father, like daughter.

---

What the hell, Jane?? I know what you said at the beginning, but this is unfair. Gracie and Candace get to meet Sherlock, but not John?! I want the boys to meet again! NOW! So sorry, my friends, but you'll have to wait a bit longer. Worry not, it will happen. Eventually. (insert evil smile, cruel chuckle and holding of fingertips together like Mr. Burns) Love, Jane

@johnlock-rocks

#Sherlock Holmes #Sherlock #bbc sherlock #john watson #johnlock #sherlock loves john #John loves Sherlock #Johnlock fanfic #Mystrade

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somedayonbroadway · 4 years ago

Note

more.. please?

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Okay, no quote for this one, but this is a scene I had in mind since I started writing this fic!

So, as Spot was discovering, things at the Larkin home tended to get a little intense when it came to bedtime. True to his roommates words, the twins did try to convince him that they were quadruplets. Spot still had no idea how they’d gone in through one door and magically ended up behind him when he turned around but one thing was for sure. They were witches.

So many children around here were yelling and Spot was only trying to get to the safety of the quiet guest room. Jack was busy downstairs with Medda. Something about an elf and a shelf and a “do not tell the kids!” so Spot figured he would just go to bed and try to figure out what these feelings were that were swirling around in his chest.

Everything in this house seemed to be some kind of friendly competition. As Romeo had held his hand walking to see the tree lights and the light snow, others had been racing around him to see who could get there first. Somehow, and Spot may never know how, it had been Charlie. He’d looked very smug when he’d turned around to greet the rest of them.

Even after that, it seemed the boys had a bet to see who could see who could sing the loudest. Jack mostly just danced around with Smalls and signed the lyrics to countless Christmas carols with her. It was honestly one of the most adorable things that Spot had ever seen.

He needed to get away from it all before he actually melted. So he made his way past four of the twins and a tiny Smalls who tried to sign to him only for Charlie to translate that she was only saying goodnight and then he ducked out of the way as Henry kicked and writhed over Specs’s shoulder to eventually open the door to find Racer sitting on the floor of the guest room.

It seemed only appropriate to make a joke at first, after their established relationship from the last couple of hours had only been a chaotic mesh of playful flirting — which Spot needed to put an end to. He knew he did. The kid was only that. A kid. But when the boy didn’t even look up at him, Spot paused as it occurred to him that the boy might not actually be in here to see him. “Racer?” he ended up asking. It was almost amusing how the boy nearly jumped out of his skin, but Spot held back his laugh as he shrugged. “You okay?”

“Oh, yeah!” Race grinned. “I’m so sorry, I totally forgot that you, like… are gonna be sleepin’ in here…” This kid was really entertaining. “Sorry, I just… normally come in here ta look at Jack’s painting before I go ta sleep.”

As amused as Spot was, he had to admit to himself how incredibly sweet that was. With a sigh, Spot made his way down to the kid, sitting with his legs crossed as his back leaned up against the bed, just as Racer’s was. “I’m still just tryin’ ta figure out what it means,” he said.

“It’s our story,” Racer said with almost no thought at all.

Spot glanced over at him. “What?”

The blond stood easily, walking over to the wall. “To everyone else it just looks like a bunch a’ squiggly lines but… it ain’t, just like how ta most people I just look like an innocent kid, when I can assure you that I’m very mature for my age and—“ the boy spouted out so dramatically.

“I’m gonna stop ya right there, Juliet,” Spot teased, standing and nodding over to the painting. “So, what’s the story?”

Clearing his throat and straightening up his non-existent tie, Racer turned back to the painting. “Well, you see here,” he began, pointing towards two intertwined lines, one blue and one golden. “These two lines are seen more than one time throughout this painting in various positions, always drawn towards each other. Blue is Jackie’s favorite color and he associated this particular shade of gold with me, so you’ve gone from point A to point B, you’re a master of the arts now, you’re welcome.”

Letting his mouth hang open a bit Spot laughed. “Oh my God, I’m a genius now? Wow, I’d like to thank so many people—“

Racer just scoffed and nodded, shoving Spot’s shoulder a bit as he spun back around and sat on the bed. He looked like an adorable little puppy with his curls, a huge mess from the wind outside and his matching pajama set and slippers. “For real though… it’s me and Jack. Sort of… I usually come in here before bed because… I don’t know, it makes me feel closer ta him. It’s stupid—“

“It ain’t,” Spot assured, sitting down beside the kid. “You n’ Jack… ya must a’ been through a lot together…” he said, gesturing to the very complex mural he was now staring at. Maybe Jack was actually more interesting than he’d originally though. To be completely honest, that was already true. Spot hadn’t even known that Jack had been adopted, much less that he had nine siblings or was this good of an artist. Sure, he knew that Jack was an art major, but that didn’t mean anything.

“Yeah,” Race smiled. “Everything… see the first lines I pointed to was when I was born, n’... ya see how they get separated after that? Then the blue one starts ta get smaller n’ thinner n’ almost disappear n’ the gold one’s tryin’ ta get to it n’ then… the opposite happens… we had quite the eventful childhood,” he explained, sounding all too happy about what sounded like a truly awful story. Spot’s heart broke a little for him but it was hard to be sad when the kid smiled at him like that. “Oh, ain’t ya so attracted ta me now that ya know I have a dark, mysterious past?”

Spot rolled his eyes. “Okay, kid, ya should leave before I take my shirt off, I don’t know if it’s a good idea for you ta—“

“Oh dear God, please take off your shirt,” Racer begged as Spot stood back up and shook his head.

“No, I was told not to encourage you,” Spot chuckled lightly.

The boy pouted. “But I’m so encourageable!” he whined. Spot was beginning to wonder what this boy saw in him. He supposed that he was very much in shape, but that was about it. The kid didn’t even know if he was gay.

He didn’t really tell anybody.

Maybe he was drawn to the boy because he was so confident and forthright with what he was thinking and who he was. That was something to be proud of and Spot wished he could just live like that, just be outright himself. It sounded so much easier than it was. “If Jack finds you in here—“

“He can’t hurt me. He loves me too much,” Racer shrugged. “Okay, that sounded like a joke, but it’s one hundred percent true. This family is like… ours n’ we love them, but we were all each other had for a long time… man, I love that guy.”

Hearing it all made something in Spot’s chest tighten because so long ago, he’d known what that felt like, to have an unbreakable bond like that with a person, to just understand that no matter what they’d be there for each other. But that was a long time ago.

Before Spot could come up with any kind of response, the door was knocked on and then opened and a very annoyed looking Jack peaked in as he leaned against the doorframe. He whistled and used his finger to gesture to his brother to come closer. “Hey, you. Out,” he ordered easily. The way Race pouted and let his head hang low just made him look even more so like the little puppy Spot was convinced he was. Still, the boy did as he was told, giving one sly glance back to Spot. Spot refrained from sending him a quick wink. Instead he just smiled as Race was pushed gently from the room. “I said no encouraging—“

“He was in here when I got here,” Spot defended. “Told me the story a’ this paintin’... at least, what it’s about.” The young man shrugged, admiring the craftsmanship again.

Jack bit his lip. “Yeah… like I said… it’s complicated,” he shrugged, glancing back down the hall towards Racer’s room. He sighed. “Ma’s real happy you’re here, by the way. Told ya she’d adopt ya in three seconds.” The man yawned. Spot never cared much to actually get a good look at Jack, but now that he was, the man looked so young and somehow seemed so wise. It wasn’t like Spot didn’t know he was an idiot who had once nearly jumped off their apartment balcony on a bet, it was just that something felt different now. The things that Racer had said were swirling around in his mind. He wondered what the disappearing of the line meant, though he didn’t wonder for long, not knowing if he actually wanted the answer at all. Maybe it meant nothing but he knew that probably wasn’t the case. “Anyway, tomorrow’s the annual Christmas Eve party so there might be a lot a’ noise out here in the mornin’, but there will be Christmas Tree shaped pancakes, or… ‘ornament shaped’ pancakes if Henry lets Specs make a few,” Jack informed.

Spot nodded with a small smile. “Thanks.”

The older boy nodded back, offering him a small wave. “Goodnight, Spot.” Jack almost turned to walk away. “Oh, and uh… if ya don’t want kids — or Racer, for that matter, barging in at God knows what hour, I’d lock the door.”

And just like that, Spot was left alone. He did lay in bed but he spent a long while staring at the painting on the wall. He pulled a small necklace out from beneath his shirt. It was nothing much, just a little key. He held it gently in his hand as he stared at the painting, watching the story pass before his eyes until finally blue and gold were back with each other on the other side.

Before he knew it, Spot was fast asleep, something a little lighter in his chest.

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leigh-kelly · 4 years ago

Text

The Nanny-Chapter 2

Defeated by her inability to sell any makeup, and her total failure at faking her way into a job as a nanny, Brittany returns to her parents’ apartment in Flushing. Her mother is in the kitchen cooking dinner, and she feels exactly twelve years old as she sinks down onto the couch. This definitely isn’t where she saw herself at nearly thirty, and when she looks at her phone to see text messages from Sugar complaining about working with Quinn, she just throws it to the side. Her life is in total shambles, and all she needs is some dose of good luck to turn it around.

“Ma, what am I supposed to do? I dropped out of college to work in Dani’s stupid bridal shop, I have no real skills, no girlfriend, and I’m living with my mother.”

“It’s no picnic living with you either, kid.” Whitney Piece opens the doorway between the kitchen and the living room and holds a raw chicken in her hands. “You’re really butting in on mine and your father’s private time.”

“Ew, Mom, gross. I don’t need to hear about that. I’m having enough of a terrible day.”

“I say you march back down to that Ms. Lopez’s mansion and give her a piece of your mind.”

“What’s that even going to do? She didn’t do anything to me. If I’m going to give anyone a piece of my mind, it’s going to be Dani Fucking Harper for cheating on me and firing me. She’s the one that got me into this situation.”

“You’re the one that got yourself into this situation. I warned you about Dani when you started dating her. You wouldn’t let me look you up with Jeannie’s nice son Artie who would have married you and made you a millionaire. A millionaire, you hear me? He just sold his first tech company for five-hundred million dollars. But instead, you chose Dani with the bridal shop.”

“Why do you have to make everything worse? I went on a date with Artie, and he so wasn’t into reenacting my Lady and the Tramp fantasy and kept talking to me like he was some kind of rapper. It’s not like I expected Dani to cheat on me.”

“She was shifty, I would have expected it.”

“Gee, thanks Mom.” Brittany rolls her eyes, and then, from where it landed under the couch when she tossed it, Brittany’s phone begins to ring. She stoops down to pick it up, and she furrows her brow when she sees a strange 212 area code light up the screen. “I guess I should take this, it’s probably someone calling to tell me that I have to sell my kidneys in order to survive the next month.”

“Only sell one, or else you’ll die, and your father and I will be responsible for paying back that ten thousand dollars in student loans you took out.”

“You’re just full of hope today, aren’t you?” Brittany sighs and presses the accept call button on her phone. “Hello?”

“Hello, is this Miss Pierce?”

“Um, yeah, who’s this?”

“Santana Lopez, we met earlier.”

“Right, how could I forget the gorgeous millionaire with the big mansion?”

“Gorgeous millionaire, I’m listening.” Whitney sits down next to Brittany, and she shoos her away.

“I’ve reconsidered what I said earlier. You seemed to have a way with Tyler, and I’d like to hire you on a trial basis, assuming you can move in today and start immediately.”

“Move in? It’s a live-in position?”

“Well yes, is that going to be a problem?”

“I’ll be there as soon as I can pack my bags. Oh, thank you, Ms. Lopez, thank you! You won’t regret this.”

“I have some reason to believe that I will…but I’ll see you this afternoon.”

In less than an hour, Brittany packs up everything she owns and is in the back of a cab headed toward Manhattan. She thinks she probably should be nervous, but she’s not, she’s totally got this and she’s going to show Ms. Lopez that she’s totally wrong about thinking she’s going to regret hiring her. Kids absolutely love her, she’s sure that she’ll win over Tyler with his fake blood, Abigail with her whining and Valerie with her sad eyes. It’s going to be a total piece of cake, she just knows it.

“Miss Pierce.” The butler opens the door when she gets there and hurries out to the cab to go help her with her things. Most of the stuff in the apartment she shared with Dani wasn’t hers, so she really just has four suitcases chock full of clothes and a big Rubbermaid bin full of shoes.

Brittany looks around the house and it’s surprisingly quiet. Something about it reminds her of The Sound of Music, her absolute favorite comfort movie when she was a kid, and she eyes the drapes, hoping she doesn’t have to teach herself how to sew in order to make the kids play clothes. Shaking her head, she moves over to the side table and reaches out to touch what is probably a very expensive crystal vase when she hears footsteps and then retracts her hand.

“I’d appreciate if you didn’t touch the antiques.” Santana puts her hand on her hip and cocks her head to the side. “And I expect I won’t have to watch over you while you’re watching the children.”

“Why do you have antiques in a house full of kids anyway?”

“We taught them from a young age what was theirs to touch and what wasn’t. I’ve never had a problem before.”

“Even with Tyler?”

“Well—” Santana begins and then is stopped by the sound of screeching coming into the room.

“Mommy! Look at my dolly! Tyler ripped her head right off and put it in the toilet bowl!” Abigail cried.

“I did not!” Tyler tumbles into the room. “She’s a big fat liar. She did it herself just to get me in trouble.”

“A new doll for Abigail will be coming right out of your allowance, young man.” Santana furrows her brow and looks between the children. “Both of you, say hello to Miss Pierce.”

“Miss Pierce? No way, I’m just Brittany.”

“I’d prefer if the children called you Miss Pierce.”

“And I’d prefer if they called me Brittany.” Brittany challenges. “Listen, Abigail, I’m an expert doll fixer. Why don’t you come upstairs with me and we’ll get her all taken care of?”

An hour later, Abigail’s doll is fixed, Tyler is distracted with a new bucket of Legos that Kurt—the butler, now that Brittany has learned his name—brought out and Brittany is almost finished unpacking. She’s not sure where Valerie is, though she thinks she should probably be aware of that, and she wonders exactly how one nannies a fifteen-year-old. It’s not like she needs dolls fixed or lessons in not using ketchup as fake blood, but Brittany is sure she’ll learn on the job.

“Miss Pierce.” Kurt knocks on the door to her bedroom and Brittany cringes a little at everyone in this house and their formalities. “Dinner is served.”

Brittany makes her way down the stairs and into the dining room, but when she gets there, she realizes that there are only four places set. She wrinkles her nose a little and looks to Kurt, who is puzzled by her expression. He holds out his hand toward the kitchen, apparently assuming that’s where she’ll eat and Brittany’s eyebrows raise.

“The nanny normally eats in there on her own while Ms. Lopez has meals with the children.”

“Well that’s ridiculous.” Brittany goes into the kitchen and picks up the plate set for her, carrying into the dining room. “Isn’t a nanny supposed to be part of the family? I’ll be eating with them.”

Valerie comes into the dining room first and gives Brittany the same strange look that Kurt did. Brittany is in utter shock that any other nanny put up with this and she simply unfolds her napkin and puts it on her lap like she’s seen people do in movies. At home, she mostly used paper towels as napkins and can’t really understand why anyone would think cloth napkins were a better idea, but she guesses she may as well learn how to fit in with these rich people.

“You know you’re supposed to eat in the kitchen.” Valerie tells her, standing behind her own chair.

“Maybe that’s how it used to be, but if I’m going to spend all my time with you, I think I should at least be able to eat with you.”

“Miss Pierce.” Santana comes in, followed by Abigail and Tyler. “You’re—”

“Supposed to eat in the kitchen, I know. I—” Brittany tries to think of the most appropriate response to her new boss. “I think it’s better for the kids to see me eating with the family, then they know they should respect me.”

“Well. Alright then.” Santana sits down.

Dinner is the weirdest thing Brittany has ever experienced. Not a single one of them talk. She keeps trying to start a conversation, get everyone to at least pretend they’re at the table with other people, but no one takes the bait. She watches Tyler hide his broccoli in his napkin, watches Abigail obsessively sort her food, watches Valerie eat more slowly than she’s ever seen a human being eat and watches Santana look down at her phone every thirty seconds. Then, just when she feels like she’s about to explode, Rachel Berry barges into the dining room with a flourish.

“I just got off the phone with Brody Weston, he wants to have dinner with us tonight.” She shrieks. “This could be our chance to land Broadway’s biggest star. Lin Manuel Miranda doesn’t stand a chance against us if we get him!”

“Let’s go.” Santana stands up, pushing her plate away. “Miss Pierce, I expect you’ll be alright getting the children to bed?”

“You’ve got it. What, like ten o’clock?”

“No. More like eight o’clock. Valerie can stay up until nine-thirty.”

“Right…” Brittany shakes her head, thinking maybe Valerie is way too old to have a nine-thirty bedtime, but she’s not going to argue with her boss. “Uh, have fun.”

“Miss Pierce.” Rachel’s voice gets high and shrill. “We are not doing this for fun.”

They leave the dining room and Brittany looks around at the three kids. Abigail looks crestfallen, Tyler looks like he’s planning something and Valerie just looks completely aloof to the entire situation. Maybe it’s weird, but Brittany wants to know more about Ms. Lopez. She’s living in her house after all and if feels weird that they’ve exchanged maybe one-hundred words. But she’s not exactly about to ask, the woman was weird enough about her sitting at the dinner table with them and even weirder about the kids calling her Brittany, so she thinks if she actually asks something personal her head will explode.

“So…what’s up guys?” Brittany asks. “You know there’s no law that you have to be quiet at the dinner table, right?”

“Mom would rather we are.” Abigail pipes up. “She’s usually really busy doing work on her phone.”

“Well guess what, she’s not here, so talk away.”

Brittany isn’t surprised that she’s still met with utter silence, but she rolls her eyes a little. It’s clear that these kids have no idea how to just be kids and she thinks of The Sound of Music again. Maybe she does need to learn how to saw so she can make them play clothes out of the curtains, bring them to Central Park and let them run around and scream. It seems like it would do each of them good, probably Tyler, especially, since he seems to need to get into mischief to actually express himself.

After dinner is done, all three kids go to their rooms. Brittany is pretty sure that she hears Valerie’s door slam, but she can’t be sure. Figuring this is just what they do, Brittany goes into the kitchen to try and get some dirt out of Kurt. She could see a gleam in his eye when she met him earlier in the day and she just knows he’ll be willing to spill some gossip.

“So, what’s the deal Kurt? Tell me all about these people.”

“Miss Pierce—”

“Okay, let’s just put an end to that right now. Brittany, okay?”

“Brittany. Fine. But seriously, you’ve been here like three hours and you already want me to gossip?”

“I know you live for it.” Brittany laughs a little. “So, tell me everything there is to know about Ms. Lopez.”

“You got me.” Kurt rolls his eyes at himself. “Thank God I finally have someone to talk to, I wait all month for my butler’s association meetings to just gab about everything.”

“I knew it! So, what’s her deal?”

“She’s trying to be this big-time producer, she’s like, insanely jealous of Lin Manuel Miranda, you can’t even bring him up around her, she’ll go absolutely apeshit.”

“But Ms. Berry—”

“Yeah, she does it all the time, I think she thinks it motivates her, which, honestly, it probably does. But basically, they’re always having these investors fall through every time they think they’re going to have this big hit. They passed on Dear Evan Hansen, so, there’s that.”

“And Ms. Berry? Are they like…together?”

“Oh my God, disgusting.” Kurt feigns a gag. “But actually, Ms. Berry wishes. She follows Ms. Lopez around like a little puppy dog and is basically ready to throw herself in her arms at any given second. It’s so gross to watch, but it’s like a car wreck, I can’t look away.”

“And what about the kids’ dad?”

“Mama, actually. Do you have like no gaydar? I could sense you were one of us from a mile away.”

“Hey…I’m bi.” Brittany crosses her arms over her chest.

“Still one of us. And she died two years ago, she was hit by a car and it destroyed Ms. Lopez. Miss Abigail was only three, she doesn’t remember her at all and Mr. Tyler was four so he has a few memories. Miss Valerie is still angry.”

“I can see that. She has barely said two words to me.”

“She doesn’t want to get attached, you don’t even know how many nannies we’ve gone through around here.”

“So why did Ms. Lopez decide to hire me anyway?”

“Desperation?” Kurt chuckles. “And also, I may have planted the seed in her head.”

“Why?”

“Because you looked like a kicked puppy when you showed up here. So now that I’ve told you about her, what’s your deal.”

“I mean, I got dumped and fired on the same day…by the same person, so that’s pretty much how I ended up here. The only thing I know about kids is from hanging out with my little cousins, my mom is desperate for me to get married, that’s about it.”

“Hmm.” Kurt looks off into the distance and Brittany furrows her brow.

“What?”

“Huh? No, nothing, I was just thinking about something.”

“C’mon, you have to tell me!”

“You’ll find out in due time, I just know it.”

#the nanny #brittana

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okaybutlikeimagine · 5 years ago

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really weird hc but i think steve never cries, like it’s not that he doesn’t want to he just can’t??? he’s filled with emotions and he knows he technically should be crying but he just can’t. But billy on the other hand, if you asked him he’d deny it but he cries all. the. time. when he’s angry. when he’s sad. when he’s stressed. when he’s happy and laughing. he just can’t control it.

This is such an interesting headcanon and I DEFINITELY agree!!!! I think it makes perfect sense!!

Bc the way I think about it, Steve’s life has been a lot more performative than Billy’s has, if that makes any sense? Like, I think of Steve’s parents and I think of the kind of terrible people who had a kid just to 1. Pass down the name and 2. Say they have the “perfect family”. Like, they toted Steve out for parties just like Daisy does in Great Gatsby and then they’d hand him off to the sitter or the nanny or the maid or whatever. They didn’t actually want to raise a kid and understand that kid as a person, they wanted a trophy to say: “See this? This proves our relationship is strong and our marriage was worth it.”

And then, in the background, before Steve would be dragged off to whatever private function he was being forced and dressed to attend, his mom would grab him harshly and tightly around his little shoulders and kneel down to look him right in the eye and say: “You behave yourself, understand? There are going to be very important clients there and if you bother us while we’re working, you’re going to be grounded for a whole week. No, two. No toys, TV, nothing. You hear me?” And just imagine a little Steve, about age 5, blinking owlishly at his mom and nodding his head bc of course he can hear her, she’s right in his face, but the only thing he knows about “clients” is that they make his parents yell at each other and that they’re the reason his parents never read him bedtime stories or tuck him in at night

And I really don’t know a whole lot about like… the lives of the rich and famous, but I just can’t help but imagine Steve’s parents going to parties with the other “elite” in the area. And I use the term “elite” loosely bc i mean… let’s face it…. They still live in Hawkins. They’re definitely rich but it’s not like they’re rubbing elbows with high society over here. They’re the kind of rich, snobby, stuck up people who think they’re better than the people they share a community with. It’s the reason they’re not home very often: they hate being reminded about the fact that they haven’t moved out of Hawkins.

So they go to lots of rich, stuck up parties. And they hold Steve up like a trophy to their friends about how they have a kid already and “where’s yours, Patricia? Oh, don’t have one yet? Are things alright with you and Greg? Oh, just wondering, because if you don’t have a kid yet, well…. Maybe something’s wrong at home…”

and so Steve, with fresh threats swimming in his mind, stands there and smiles and takes all the cheek pinches and head pats even though he’s only a child and is about to fall asleep on his feet because they’ve been walking around meeting people for hours and the other kids won’t play with him because they think he’s “boring” or “stupid” or “poor” (which doesn’t make sense to him bc he’s the richest kid in his preschool as far as he’s aware. He figures the preschools must be different here.) so he puts on a mask even for the other kids. He pretends he doesn’t like playing in the mud or collecting bugs or making jokes about boogers. He puts aside acting like a kid to act like these kids just so he can play with them. Sometimes it works.

And so I think he learned not to cry at a very young age. Honestly, i dunno if you’ve heard about it, but I’m channeling The Who’s Tommy over here. Like, the whole “kid is threatened not to speak about this thing, that he didn’t see this thing, and that he didn’t hear this thing and thus goes deaf, blind, and mute”. And obviously a little less dramatic than that, but Steve’s always been told not to cry. When he would cry he’d get punished. It’s like a weird Pavlovian effect. Ever since he was a kid he was asked to put on a show for everyone, told not to pout or whine or cry, and now he just…. Can’t. He almost fears it. He hears his parents threats, even now at the age of 18, and smiles and laughs rather than cries. And sometimes he cries… that night that Nancy called him bullshit and told him she didn’t love him he went home and ripped a blanket she had (apparently lovelessly) gifted him and broke his lamp and accidentally sliced his foot on the glass of the lightbulb…. and cried and… and it felt like failure. It was only a couple of tears, hot and angry and rolling slowly down his face and he let his throat catch fire as he held everything else back. He was angry with himself at that point, more than anything. He looked himself in the mirror and heard his father’s words of “A Harrington never cries. Are you a true Harrington?” and sucked it all back in and did whatever he could to take his mind off of it, even though everything he did always ended with him fuming about the words over and over again and caused him to end up punching pillows and angrily drinking all the beer out of the fridge.

But Billy’s different.

Billy is a volcano. A volcano of every single emotion you can think of. He experiences them all violently and viciously and they take over his system until his body physically can’t hold back from crying. We SEE him cry multiple times in the show!!! And i like to think it’s bc rather than be toted around, he’s been locked in. where Steve’s parents drag Steve around to different social functions, Neil locks Billy up so he- and no one else -has to look at him. Steve is forced to be around others and put on a mask and Billy is forced to be alone, with just himself and his thoughts. He doesn’t need to mask himself when he’s alone.

And that’s not to say that Billy doesn’t also put on a show for others- because he most definitely does. I think a lot of what he does is performative bc he feels he needs to and his thought process for it lines up with Steve’s for himself: he’s just not good enough. He wasn’t good enough for his mom to stay, he wasn’t good enough for his dad to love in his mother’s absence, he wasn’t and isn’t good enough for anything. So he puts on a show of this big tough guy and he manipulates people and he calls it entertainment.

And this isn’t to say that he didn’t get yelled at for crying, either! Bc he definitely did. He’s gotten hit a few times for tears in his eyes but it was always followed with being locked in his room and being told that he was “embarrassing to watch”... and in the four walls of his room he cried more. Bc growing up, the one thing he found relief in was being sent to his room or even having his room in the first place: it gave him a space to be alone and let his emotions out. And he never tried to, his body always just did it for him. Bc crying is often a very visceral thing, and also a very natural and very human thing. It releases chemicals in your body to help soothe you and lord KNOWS Billy needs to soothe himself bc once his mom left, no one did it for him. His body realizes the emotions that aren’t being sorted and his mind knows when it’s safe (when he’s alone, when Neil’s turned and walking away, when no one can hear) and it cries. I just imagine Billy on constant vibrate, brimming with emotions and filled to the edge with too many things with everything with all of it and he just cries because there’s so few outlets for him. His body has grown accustomed to taking care of itself in that way. And so when he’s had too much (and the threshold on some days if very small), he rushes to his room and slams the door and as soon as it’s latched he’s near drowning in tears bc he needs release.

And let me tell you- it freaks the fuck out of Steve.

Because like you said, Steve just doesn’t cry. And the first time Billy and Steve have sex, Billy cries as he orgasms and Steve freaks. out. He thinks he did something wrong and he’s fretting over Billy and his heart is racing and he’s fighting with himself about if he should hold Billy’s face or step about 5 feet away from him because holy shit what happened??

And Billy feels like an idiot but there’s no stopping his body because he’s so overwhelmed by feeling so good and it’s been a long time coming for him and Steve and after all of that anger and animosity between each other, it was just too much and he cries. And he punches Steve while he’s crying, trying his best to growl but hiccuping around the words instead as he says: “Don’t look at me like that.”

“I’m so sorry Billy, holy shit! What do I do?!”

“Go get me a tissue, you dumbass!”

And he’s sniffling and blows his nose loud and Steve is in awe that Billy is still such a hardass even with tears running down his eyes.

And this happens a LOT. Every time Billy and Steve have sex, Billy tears up after he orgasms. It’s not always full on waterworks like the first time, but his eyes always water as he lays there with Steve, body lit up and hot like a fucking campfire, and he lays there and breathes and a tear rolls down his cheek and Steve has gotten so used to it that he leans over Billy and kisses the tear right at his cheekbone and whispers how beautiful he is. (and that usually makes Billy tear up even more, to which he shoves Steve with whatever strength he has left and tells him to shut his mouth)

The first time they tell each other “I love you” it’s the same thing. Billy whispers “I love you, too” and there go his tears. His chest heaves and he cries into Steve’s collarbone, gripping Steve’s shirt and Steve just kind of chuckles a bit and rubs Billy’s back and maybe cracks a joke about how he’s “such a sap” and Billy tilts his head so he can bite at Steve’s shoulder and make the boy yelp.

And the first time Billy catches Steve about to cry, he sees that the boy is about to run away. Bc he’s taken notice to the fact that Steve doesn’t cry and he hasn’t brought it up more than twice bc Steve is obviously anxious when he talks about it but Billy gets worried for him bc Steve always acts like he’s okay and Billy knows that’s not good. So when he catches Steve’s eyes watering and then Steve turning to lock himself away somewhere, he grabs the boy in the most forceful hug he can manage so that he can’t squirm away and hide himself and he says: “Don’t run away from me. Are you gonna cry?”

“Billy-”

“Then do it. You’re not a robot.”

“Billy stop I-”

“You’re human, you fucking dumbass.”

“Don’t call me-”

“It’s okay.”

And that makes Steve’s chest heave. He sucks so much air in he squeaks and his chest pushes against Billy’s own and Billy grabs tighter and nuzzles his head into Steve’s neck and whispers.

“You’re safe, Pretty Boy.”

And he stands there and he lets Steve cry. Lets himself be whatever physical and mental support Steve needs as he finally, finally let’s his body take over and just cries.

#ask #anonymous #billy hargrove #steve harrington #angst #hurt #comfort #harringrove #sorry this is a little off/weird #I'M feeling a little off/weird #i've been in a really bad headspace recently #but i really wanted to write something and i wrote this really quickly and.... yeah #♥#sorry this took a billion years to answer #i swear i'm gonna get to all my asks guys #eventually #there are a lot of things going on and they're giving me nervous breakdowns

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ineffable-endearments · 4 years ago

Text

Waking up in July

(Rating: G. Approx. 1917 words.)

July 1, 2020.

On reaching for the snooze, Crowley discovers an envelope he definitely didn’t leave on top of his phone. (Mail doesn’t usually get delivered to his bedside, of course, but given the handwriting on the front, Crowley has the impression divine intervention was involved this time.)

Dear Crowley,

I am writing to you in frustration. Not with you, you must understand, but with myself. There are a few things I do believe need clarifying.

Given everything that’s happened, I feel strongly that I ought to be behaving in solidarity with the guidelines the people of London have set for themselves. I must admit, it was a surprise to hear you express the same sentiment. I’ve always known you aren’t cruel enough to want to see innocent people fall ill (don’t you roll your eyes at this letter; you said it yourself), but I thought surely you would have your own ways of getting around the lockdown, carrying on outside the rules and indulging in mischief as you always do. Were this the case, it would only be responsible to invite you over here, to decrease your bad influence.

And yet, this was not the case. Still, after declining your offer when we spoke, I felt somehow unsatisfied, or perhaps at loose ends. It would have been very nice to share my baking with someone who is not attempting to steal my cashbox.

If you read this letter before July, do know you’re encouraged to reach out. We could at least speak telephonically. And if you don’t read this before July, know I will be immensely happy to meet with you again as soon as you awaken.

(There’s a long gap between the end of the paragraph and the end of the letter itself.)

Crowley...I suppose the truth is I miss you very much.

Yours, always,

Aziraphale

“Sentimental old sap,” Crowley says out loud. How else is he going to dislodge the painfully fond lump in his throat? “Right. Time to see what’s going on, then.”

Continue below or read the rest on AO3

One rushed mobile search and five minutes later, Crowley has an approximate idea of where the humans stand. They haven’t done the greatest job of getting the virus under control, but they seem to have made...progress? Arguably? Ugh, they could have done better. At any rate, if he and Aziraphale want to see each other, they’re going to have to form a...a “support bubble.”

The notion of asking Aziraphale out loud if he would like to be in something called a “support bubble” together almost makes Crowley want to turn around and go back to sleep.

On second thought, the angel would probably get a kick out of it, and the awful naming scheme would give Crowley something to gripe about, so all’s well that ends well, really.

The bookshop phone barely rings before Aziraphale’s voice is on the line. “Hello. I’m afraid we’re closing early--”

“Good,” Crowley says. “I’m not calling you to buy books.”

“Crowley!”

Oh, that’s a familiar delight in his voice. That’s rescuing-from-the-Bastille, cleaning-paint-off-his-coat, showing-up-for-Armageddon-in-a-flaming-car delight.

“Good morning, angel.”

“So very much has happened. I’d like to fill you in, but oh, I don’t even know where to begin...”

Crowley frowns at his phone, worried. “A lot has happened? What, at the shop?”

“No, no, I mean in the world.”

“All right. Well. Just start in...I dunno, start off from our last conversation, I fell asleep pretty much right away--”

“Come to the shop,” Aziraphale blurts. “You have to wear a mask, and-- and don’t go anywhere else, but it’s allowed. It...it’s okay now.”

“I’ll be there in five,” Crowley says, grinning, ready to ignore any admonishments about speed limits.

“Wait! Crowley?”

“Hmm?”

“Actually. If you come see me before July 4, we...we have to be in, ah. A support bubble.” There it is. “Have you heard about that yet?”

“Sure I have.” Crowley does his best to sound gruff and unaffected.

“You couldn’t be in anyone’s place but mine, you know. And even after the fourth, you couldn’t...get closer than two metres to anyone but me, even though you could visit--”

“Aside from the fact that all this is totally for show anyway, stop worrying, it’s fine,” Crowley insists. He miracles himself the least-ugly mask he can contemplate and bustles out the door, hurrying irritatedly back a minute later to grab the “something drinkable” he forgot.

They don’t even sit down right away, much less get within the 2 metres of each other. Aziraphale does, however, give Crowley a long, pleasantly intense look (it appears to be a proper drinking-in) when he enters the shop.

“Did you, ah,” Aziraphale clasps his hands together. “Did you get my letter?”

“I did,” Crowley says. “Got a bit bored, did you?”

Aziraphale sighs, impatient. “I suppose you could put it that way.”

“I’d have come over, you know,” Crowley says softly, just loud enough for Aziraphale to hear. “You could have called. Had my phone right by the bed.”

“I know,” Aziraphale responds, not any louder. He looks away to the table next to him, makes a show of studying a book that wouldn’t have moved from the shelf since 1949 if it weren’t for Adam’s reorganization. “But if you’d...stayed here, wouldn’t you have been bored?”

Crowley shrugs. “Maybe. I’m sure being bored here wouldn’t be worse than being bored at home.”

“If you were here, hunkering down as you put it, we might have got in each other’s way. I’m sure it would have been lovely for a while, but what about after a day or two? Or after a week? A month?”

“You have always liked being left alone with your work,” Crowley muses. “I could have gone to sleep here, too, though. I know you’ve got that little flat with the single bed you haven’t used since 1993 upstairs.”

At this, something in Aziraphale’s face loosens, and he looks almost as if he might smile. “Oh, now what kind of host banishes his guest upstairs for bedtime?”

“You absolutely would. Or I could just come visit and leave. Rules only apply to us if we decide they should, right?”

“Well, that’s the thing,” Aziraphale says. “I was stuck. It seems silly, I know, I know, but it’s such a strange time, everyone out there struggling - I would have felt terrible for choosing not to align with the humans’ rules myself. I was hoping…”

“That I’d help you get around them,” Crowley finishes.

“As you always have,” Aziraphale admits. That confession alone pushes the air out of Crowley’s lungs, a surprising sensation even considering his breath is optional.

“Those were...stupid rules. Dangerous for an angel to break. I felt like I was sort of doing you favors while also being a proper demon when I did that. This isn’t quite the same.”

Aziraphale nods. “No. Perhaps it’s not.”

“Aziraphale,” Crowley says, urgently needing eye contact. Aziraphale cooperates, drifting even a little closer as he does. Not quite 2 metres away now. “This is our side.” Crowley gestures vaguely at Aziraphale and everything around them. “I can sneak around other people’s rules all you want, but I’m not gonna force my way around yours.”

“I don’t know what’s right,” Aziraphale says, plaintive. “People aren’t supposed to be seeing each other, so if we’re going to live here, neither should we. I missed you every day, though, Crowley. Isn’t that strange? We don’t even meet every day under normal circumstances, but something about being forced to stay apart reminded me so much of old times - bad old times…”

The angel is getting himself worked up. “No point worrying about it now,” Crowley interjects. “We’re a...we’re a ‘bubble,’ aren’t we? We’re following the rules just fine and I’m even allowed to come and go. Problems solved.”

Aziraphale purses his lips. “For now,” he agrees, smiling in earnest this time. “It did get me thinking about an awful lot of things, though.”

“And none of them have to be resolved this second,” Crowley reassures. “Would you like to talk over wine? I’ve been thinking about this bottle since April.”

“Certainly, yes.” Aziraphale waves his hand. “One more thing before we do, though. You know, it’s alright for people in a bubble to get close to each other.”

“You sure?” Crowley asks, not because he doesn’t know the rule, but because he doesn’t know what Aziraphale’s rule is going to be.

“Yes. I was actually hoping you might - and you can refuse, Crowley, really, it’s a bizarre request - but I was hoping you might allow me to hug you.”

Crowley feels a big, undignified grin breaking out on his face. He schools it into the best semblance of a smirk he can manage, but he’s definitely not going to fool Aziraphale. That’s fine. “All right,” he says. “If it makes you happy.”

There is a different sort of delight on Aziraphale’s face as he sidles nervously up to Crowley. It’s not as blatant as what he’d sounded like on the phone. It’s quieter, but deeper. It’s rescued-books-after-a-fallen-bomb delight.

“Come here,” Crowley murmurs, pulling his very favorite fusspot into a hug. Upon resting his head on Aziraphale’s shoulder, breathing in that cologne and the scent of various baking experiments, soaking in Aziraphale’s warmth like a...well, like a serpent in the sun, Crowley realizes this is as much for him as it is for Aziraphale.

And he doesn’t want to stop. Sod the wine; let this take hours.

“Do you still get the feeling we’re not supposed to be doing this, no matter how safe it is?” Aziraphale asks, voice muffled. He’s sort of talking into Crowley’s jacket.

“Not really the same for me,” Crowley says. “My lot weren’t big on guilt. Fear, more like. Terror, yes. Not guilt.” He lifts his head so he can rest his cheek against the angel’s ridiculous fluffy hair.

“Oh. Yes, that makes sense. Sorry.” Aziraphale presses his head into Crowley’s shoulder.

Crowley rolls his eyes, knowing Aziraphale won’t see it, more attempting to reassure himself that he hasn’t gone completely, entirely soft. “Let’s take it one moral crisis at a time,” he whispers, stroking Aziraphale’s back. Aziraphale shifts and breathes out, snorting very lightly (although he’d never, ever allow it to be called a ‘snort’ out loud) in a way that indicates he’s trying not to giggle.

“You know,” Aziraphale says, apparently regaining his composure, “they might tighten restrictions again.”

“It’s possible. It might be the smartest option,” Crowley agrees.

“We should consider what we’re going to do if that happens.” Aziraphale has not removed himself from Crowley’s grip. “If you’re really sure you wouldn’t mind…”

Crowley finds himself chuckling, progressing to a full-throated laugh. “What, sleeping upstairs?”

“Well, no--”

“We’ll cross that bridge if we get to it, but if there’s one thing I can guarantee, it’s that I wouldn’t want to sit around and chatter 24/7. You’d have your reading time.”

Aziraphale sighs. “And wouldn’t you miss your things?”

“Sure, possibly. Not like I was using them when I was sleeping the months away, though, was I?”

“All right.” Aziraphale pulls away enough to gesture toward the sofa, leaving Crowley wanting more. Days. Days more. Aziraphale is beaming, though, and Crowley might be, too, and Aziraphale doesn’t end the hold entirely because now their hands are clasped. “Now, bring the wine over here and let’s go sample the desserts. I’m especially interested to hear what you think of the devil’s food cake.”

#good omens #ineffable partners #good omens lockdown #ineffable husbands #ineffable spouses #covid19 cw #coronavirus cw #alcohol cw

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eintsein · 6 years ago

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How to Fix your Sleep Schedule

We’ve all been there. You’ve been pushing back your bedtime for an entire week and now you feel exhausted and you don’t think you can function as well as you normally could. You just want to get enough sleep again, but how?

Make small changes

It’s a lot easier to push back your bedtime than to push it forward—but it’s not impossible. You just have to take it step by step. Go to sleep 15-30 minutes earlier every night until you reach your desired bedtime. You could try going to sleep much earlier than your regular time, but according that doesn’t usually work out. If you’re waking up later than you want to, you might also want to try waking up 15 minutes earlier each morning until you get up at the desired time.

I remember there was a week this semester when I went to sleep at 1am for several days in a row (I usually sleep at 11). I was sleep deprived and exhausted and I tried to sleep at 8 to catch up on lost sleep, but I couldn’t. I just laid in my bed for an hour until I gave up trying to sleep and decided to work on some homework until I felt sleepy again. What I should’ve done was go to bed 15 minutes earlier each night until I could go to sleep at 11 again.

Adjust exposure to sunlight

Exposure to adequate amounts of sunlight is key to helping our bodies maintain their circadian rhythm, which is the process that regulates our energy levels during the day and tells us when to be awake and when to go to sleep. Sunlight helps our body produce optimal levels of melatonin, a hormone that makes us feel sleepy at night. Studies have shown that people get better quality sleep in the summer because there is a greater exposure to light.

That being said, you should expose yourself to more light during the day to get better sleep at night. This might mean waking up earlier so you don’t miss hours of sunlight in the morning.

At night, you should reduce your exposure to any sort of light - both natural and artificial - so that your body knows it’s time to not be awake. I personally turn down the lights (and only have my fairy lights on) after 10:30 pm. When you’re trying to get back into your desired sleep schedule, you could aim to turn down the lights 30 minutes before your desired bedtime for that day.

Don’t eat too close to bedtime

You should wait 2 - 3 hours between dinner/your last meal and bedtime. I would talk about how studies show that eating too close to bedtime can possibly damage your health, e.g. causing reflux when you’re lying down, but that’s all been said before. The only thing I’d like to reiterate is that you sleep better when you wait after you eat. But as for my own logic on why you shouldn’t go to sleep when you’re full...

When you wait a few hours after you’ve had your last meal, before you go to bed, you won’t go to bed full, meaning that in the morning, you’re likely to be hungry. I don’t know about you, but I can’t go back to sleep when I’m, like, starving, so being hungry when I wake up causes me to resist sleeping in.

Don’t sleep in

You would think that sleeping in is, in fact, good for catching up on sleep. In reality, it doesn’t make you stop sleeping late, since you’d probably still spend the same amount of time awake. Instead, once you wake up, you should stay up, and don’t go back to sleep. You’re likely to get sleepy at an earlier time, and this will help you push forward your bedtime.

Resist napping

Resisting naps also has a similar logic to not sleeping in. If you take a nap, you’ll feel more energetic and night, and you might not be able to fall asleep as soon as you wanted to. If you resist taking a nap, however, you’ll be more tired at night, and you’ll fall asleep more easily.

Be strict with yourself

Finally, the key to having a good, consistent sleep schedule is to be strict with yourself. Don’t let yourself stay up for just 5 more minutes because you still have a ‘small’ task to take care of. When it’s time to end the day, end the day.

Maybe it’s hard for you to be strict with yourself since you can’t justify going to sleep over completing whatever task or responsibility you have left. Well, here’s my logic:

You could stay up 5 more minutes and risk extending that to a few hours or so in attempt to finish something. There’s no guarantee that you’ll finish it, and you might just lose all those precious hours of sleep for nothing, since you’ll wake up in the morning tired and unable to effectively do the task you wanted to do; or

You could stop everything you’re doing and sleep on it. You wake up in the morning feeling refreshed and clear-headed and ready to tackle on your tasks for the day. You find a new way to think about the task you were stuck on, and you finally solve it in less than half an hour.

I do realize that this only applies if the task isn’t super urgent. Let’s say you have a project due 11:59 PM and you’re rushing to finish that. In this case, the core problem is probably something else: an inability to manage your time, or procrastination. If that’s the case, you might want to check out my posts on how to beat procrastination and how to create an efficient (revision) schedule. The latter post is tailored for exam preparation, but the main ideas are the same for general scheduling (there’s a recap at the bottom if you just want to know the main ideas).

Additionally, you might wanna check out my post on my night routine.

And that’s all I have for you today! Hope this was helpful, and if you have any questions, feel free to drop me an ask or message me. Have an awesome day :)

#studyblr #studyspo #studying #study hard #eintsein #mine #mymp #health #productivity #organization #lifestyle #areistotle #academla #hey sareena #school #college #high school

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caps-lockdown · 5 years ago

Text

3 AM

Hello lovelies here is my entry for @justkendings 1K challenge! If ya’ll couldn’t tell I’m trying to branch out and try some writing challenges this year.

Prompts were “Dude. It’s 3 in the morning.” and “I don’t suppose you’ve got a blowtorch around here?”

Thoughts are in italics. It’s also my first time writing a complete AU so be kind. Alright here we go!

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Fem!Reader Modern Neighbor AU

Words: 6,310 HOLY CRIPES THIS GOT AWAY FROM ME

Warnings: Swear words, booze and tons of fluff. Some crude humor. Tony, Bucky, and Sam being impatient and grumpy.

Summary: You’re a Nanny by day and a diner waitress by night. Steve is a first responder who gets off late. You both live in the same apartment building. Insert cavity inducing meet cute here.

It’s in Y/N Y/L/N format. I own nothing but my mistakes/no beta.

A/N: I imagined this like an episode of Friends, so I took a couple of lines from the show as little Easter Eggs, lemme know if you find them. And also know I don’t own friends but I’m super obsessed and what can I say? No one told me life was gonna be this way.

Enjoy!

Saturday, 3 AM

You were certain you were going to fall asleep standing up. The elevator creaked to a stop on the 23rd floor of your apartment building and you zombie dragged your body down the hall. 1-A and screaming kids? Nope. Five-B complete with another wannabe Broadway superstar warming up their vocals to Britney Spears? You live in New York city. There’s one on every floor. You looked across the hallway when you reached your door at 3-C where 7-D sat. You’ve lived here for almost two years and have never met the inhabitants of the two bedroom across from your two bedroom. Not that you had tons of time. You were a Nanny during the day most days, and on nights like tonight you worked at a Diner.

Almost there. You could hear the siren call of your bed, a tired smile at the thought of a hot shower for your screaming feet spreading across your face as you lazily jammed your key ring into the door. You glanced at your wrist watch.

2:50 AM

Your shift at the diner aptly named “The Night Owl” had run a tad bit on the long side tonight, a gaggle of high school theater kids flooding your tables at the tail end of your shift. They were riding the high of their opening night of “Footloose”, demanding cheese fries, milkshakes, and whatever amount of Marge’s meatloaf was remaining from the day. You brushed off a piece of the aforementioned dinner special from your apron, slowly pushing the door open. Not that your attempt to be quiet did any good, the tell tale squeaking of the ancient hinges announcing your nearly KO’d arrival.

Sam was in the living room in less than a minute after you shut the door, a slightly grumpy look on his face.

“Long night?”

“Almost thirty teenagers Sam,” You fell into the overstuffed recliner, reaching to take off your sneakers when there was a soft knock at your door. “Shit, I hope I didn’t wake the neighbors.”

“Relax Y/N, I got this.” Sam walked his own groggy body to the door, looking into the peephole before shaking his head and opening the door with another loud squeak.

You leaned to catch a sight of the person, your heart momentarily stopping as your gaze fell upon the most perfect looking man you had ever seen. Please let him be a neighbor.

Blonde hair sat messily atop his head, still slightly damp from a shower that you no doubt wished you could have been a fly on a wall for. If the tight blue t-shirt that was one flex away from ripping off this walking Adonis was any indication, you would have happily offered to hold the loofa for him too.

“I am so sorry to bother you at this hour. I live right across the hall, in 7-D and I was wondering if I could borrow a cup and a half of sugar from you?”

Sam stared at him, his face void of any emotion. “Sugar? Seriously?”

“Yea you see it’s a coworker, a friend really, birthday tomorrow and I said I would make a cake for him, but ah…I forgot to buy sugar before my shift. I’m a first responder and so when I got off work everything was closed. So you see I heard your door open and thought if I could ask you before you went to bed then I had a decent chance.”

Sam’s face remained stoic. “Dude. It’s 3 in the morning.”

“Actually it’s 2:58,” You replied coolly, pulling your roommate back and replacing him. “A cup and a half of sugar is no problem at all. Give us two shakes, k?”

“Thank you SO much,” The tall drink of water gushed, you giving him a small and peppy “No problem!” before making your way to your kitchen. You always managed to keep extra essentials in the pantry, your fingers easily finding your spare bag of sugar, taking note of the half full open one. “Go back to bed Sam, I’ll handle it.”

“Be careful Y/N, I’ve seen this horror movie before.” Sam warned with a wary look at the man before walking into his room and shutting the door with a THUD.

You handed the full bag of sugar to the man, enjoying the warmth from his hands as they brushed yours. “Sorry about him, it’s way past his bedtime.”

“Your boyfriend was right to be grumpy. It’s stupid early.” You chuckled, “What? Did I say something funny?”

“Sam isn’t my boyfriend, he’s my roommate. Truth be told most of the time I want to kill him. I imagine that would be multiplied ten-fold if we were actually dating.”

“I understand.” He shuffled his slipper clad feet on the floor for a moment before snapping his eyes to yours. “Uh thanks for the…the sugar. I only needed…”

“We have plenty, and I hate measuring things at 3 in the morning.”

“Actually it’s, “He checked his cell phone, “3:14”

Cheeky. “Then you better get to baking that cake then huh?” You smiled at his flustered appearance when he hastily nodded,

“Right, thanks again!”He turned to walk into his own open doorway. A dark haired man with a goatee you hadn’t noticed before stood in a gold and red bathrobe, trying to get a look at you around his brick shithouse built dwelling mate. Probably his partner. Damn it all. You shut the door with a defeated sigh. Figures.

The door to Steve and Tony’s apartment had the terrible habit of slamming shut, the hinges like its neighbor shot but in different ways. This morning was no different. SLAM

Steve nodded to his roommate after throwing the lock.

“Who’s the babe?” Tony asked, mischief floating in his eyes as Steve fought the urge to roll his own into the back of his head.

“Obviously our neighbor Tony. She was kind enough to lend me some sugar to bake Bucky’s cake.” He held up the bag for emphasis. “See?”

“Well shit Steve if you just wanted some sugar all you had to do was ask…” Steve fake gagged as he walked past his roommate, the older man throwing his hand to his chest in mock hurt. “What I just don’t do it for you anymore? You gotta go get your sugar from other women now? Am I not enough?!”

“There is too much to unpack there Ton, so please, for the love of everything holy, just go to bed.”

“Fine. But don’t expect me to wait up for your cheatin ass!”Steve pinched the bridge of his nose as Tony swayed his hips back into his room, “Next time ya see her, get her number for me?”

“Fat chance asshole, I saw her first.” Steve waved off his roommate sticking out his tongue before Tony shut the door, shaking his head and redirecting his focus to the task at hand.

It was going to be a long morning.

Saturday, 1 PM

“RISE AND SHINE YOU BEAUTIFUL MESS!”

You groaned, rubbing the sleep from your eyes as you sat up in the living room. How had you fallen asleep on the couch? And when did you fall asleep on the couch? You reached for the outstretched coffee cup Sam handed you, the hot green tea sloshing in its container as you brought it to your mouth. “I see you watched the season finale of QVC. Worth the hype?”

Your middle finger was met with a pained expression, “Oh Y/N, that is obscenely un-ladylike. What would your poor mother think?”

“Well she’s been dead seventeen years Sam, so I imagine not a thing.” You smiled tightlipped at your roommate who shook his head.

“Ya always gotta play the dead mom card?”

“Hmm that depends,” You spoke to the screen in front of you, “You gonna keep wearing too tight tee shirts and pants in a last ditch effort to get a girlfriend?”

“You wound me my lady. You cut me so deep just now.”

“Whatever, don’t you have work?” Your eyebrow raised when he shook his head.

“Nah foreman gave us the weekend off since we’re ahead of schedule. Don’t you got the kids today? Or the Owl?”

“Nope I don’t got either til Monday. I’m taking the kids to the Zoo when they get back from their family reunion.” You chuckled into your cup, “I’ve actually missed the little fuckers.”

“Well you have been their nanny for the last three years. What’re ya gonna do when they’re grown?”

“Sidney isn’t even in middle school yet Sam cut me a break. I got another four years, easy.”

“Well what should we do with our new free time?”

“How about we go to the park? Grab some lunch, enjoy the sunshine. Tonight we can binge Golden Girls and drink way too much wine and order take out? My treat?” Sam seemed to ponder for a minute before nodding,

“For once you actually know what you want so who am I to say no?” You threw a pillow at him from the couch which he dodged with ease.

“Gotta be faster than…”

The second pillow didn’t miss as you squealed and ran to your room to get ready.

~~Meanwhile in 7-D~~

“No…too corny…no….not corny enough…”

Steve rubbed the back of his neck, a pile of sticky notes in a crumbled heap next to his desk. Writing a simple thank you note to your neighbor shouldn’t be this hard. It wouldn’t be, if you hadn’t been so incredibly attractive that he forgot to human. He never even introduced himself! He didn’t even ask your name! Tony said to cut himself some slack because it had been so early but Steve’s ma would hang him out to dry if she knew he had been knocking on some beautiful woman’s door at 3am.

He needed a nap.

The cake was baked and already frosted, sitting pretty ready for the big night tonight. He had used some of the sugar to make a nice coffee butter cream to ice the dark chocolate cake. Steve was super thankful you had given him the whole bag, or else Bucky would have gotten an unfrosted, sad cake. That would have definitely demoted him from “Best friend status”.

As if on cue his phone vibrated with a text message from his now a year older friend in a group chat for tonight.

Get some sleep old man, we got a long night tonight. –B

Yea yea I’m goin, sucks I have to sleep during this beautiful day though –S

This weather is freaking weird. Nearly sixty in MARCH? –B

Yea and global warming isn’t real. >.> –T

On that note I’m passing out, still on for 7?-S

Yep-B

Correct, sleep well boo thang! See you soon! Have sweet dreams of me! XoXo-T

How can I when you’re a living nightmare?-S

Steve rubbed his eyes, slapping his last written sticky note on the new bag of sugar before going to his room and passing out for a few hours.

Saturday, 6:30 PM

You and Sam had a lovely time walking central park, stopping at your favorite pizza place for lunch and just spending time catching up. You’ve been best friends since high school, and with both of you being on such odd hours most days it had become pretty difficult to enjoy the moments in between. The two of you were laughing your asses off as you made your way to your door, six bottles of wine swinging in bags at your sides.

Tonight was going to be exactly what you both needed.

Sam looked down when you nearly tripped over a block on something outside your door, “What the hell?”

You lowered yours to the floor, where a new bag of sugar sat, along with an attached sticky note. Thanks again for the sugar, Sugar. The cake is sure to be a big hit. -Steve

You beamed as Sam reached down to pick it off the floor. “Looks like 7-D has got a sweet spot for you.”

“Oh Sam shaddup.” You groaned, shutting the door behind him. “He’s just being nice.”

“Yea sure, you gonna ask mister Sweet tooth out?”

“We both know I never will Sam, I’m too nervous about that kind of thing.” A defeated sigh left you as you sat back down on the couch and began setting up for the evening, “’sides, I think he’s batting for the same team. A very handsome man was waiting for him this morning.”

“Oh honey I’m sorry but there is a chance he’s like a screen door in a hurricane?” You tilted your head in confusion when he grinned, “Swings both ways? He assumed we were dating, so why should you assume they are?”

“Because they’d be the cutest couple in the whole damn building?” You laughed bitterly, setting the remote down on the table while the opening credits started playing. “Now will you call out for Thai already? All the wine shopping made me a starving Marvin.”

“You got it dude!” Sam agreed, hopping over the couch with a loud “WOOHOO” and landing next to you, picking up one of the many take out menus on the coffee table. “Usual spot or we looking to be adventurous this evening?”

“I so don’t have the strength for new tonight Sam, you know what I like.”

Sam saluted you before pulling out his phone, you turning down the volume as he ordered food.

Yea, exactly what you needed.

Sunday, 3 AM

“Sam….Sammy….” You whined, holding the broken corkscrew in a tipsy sadness. This was my favorite wine opener.

“Aww man, that was my favorite wine opener!” Sam echoed your thoughts, both of you giving your old friend a moment of silence before you ceremoniously dropped it into the trashcan.

“Our only wine opener.” You said with a sigh. Sam followed suit.

“What now? We still have two bottles to go through!”

Your eyes widened at your bright idea, rushing for the door as fast as your wine-soaked body could carry you and throwing the door open. You winced at the loud creak, hoping one day you’d remember to WD-40 the hinges. Your smile dropped when no one answered the door across the hall, turning back to Sam with a disappointed shrug. “No one home. I guess we’ll have to quit while we’re ahead.”

“That’s quittin talk!” Sam slurred, using the doorframe as a post, drifting off into thought as to how you could obtain a new corkscrew at this hour.

That’s when you heard it. An obnoxious laugh flooding the hall from the elevator, followed by loud, fumbling footsteps and a lot of cuss words.

“Jesus…Bucky…You’re such a damn lightweight anymore…What…what happened to you?” You recognized the brunette from earlier this morning, the blond god helping him hold up a dark haired man as they made their way towards their door. “Oh great and now the hot girl in 3-C is standing outside our door and we look like shit. Thanks Barnes.”

You took in their scraped and slightly bloodied appearance with a shocked expression, Sam wrinkling his nose at the smell of blood. “You guys look terrible. Rough night?”

The other half of 7-D winced when you stared at him, “We’ve been in worse scraps than this. But yeah, wasn’t exactly a walk in the park.” He gave you a soft, split lip smile. “What can I do for you beautiful?”

Your face burned up at the compliment, although you were positive the wine wasn’t helping matters. “Do….dddo you have a corkscrew? Ours broke.” You stammered, and followed it with a “What happened to you three?”

“Oh you know how birthdays parties and booze go.” Steve gave massive side eye to the man in the middle, “Someone didn’t want to share his cake I made him, sadly the rest is history.”

The drunk man in question had the good sense to look somewhat guilty as he sloppily threw his head up to look at the man, “JAMES DOESN’T SHARE FOOD!” He affirmed in a loud voice before dragging his gaze to you, his eyes widening in surprise. “Damn you…you weren’kidding Steve….she IS a babe.” The man attempted to wink at you with a black eye, you shaking your head at the absurdity of it all. “My….my name’s James but everyonecallsme Bucky. But you….you can callmewhatever you want sweets….”

“Alright Pal, let’s get your dumbass inside.” Steve gritted out with a clenched jaw as you darted out of the way. “And we got a couple corkscrews, so you can borrow one, no problem.”

“I got a screw she can have…” Tony muttered, barely missing 7-D’s free arm, letting go of Barnes in the process. He landed face first on the floor with a wham.

”YoU….YOu…ASShole!” Bucky spat angrily into the floor, trying in vain to pick himself up, “What…whatthefuck did I EVER do to you?!”

Tony scoffed, “Please, you want the short list or the long list?”

Laughter bubbled out of you and Sam while the blond quickly went into the kitchen and dug through drawers. He was back in a flash, holding out a wine opener that looked…

“That’s the same one we had!” You laughed, taking it from him while running your fingers over his as he released it with a small shudder. “You’re a life saver Steve!”

“I do what I can,” He replied with a chuckle.

“Hereally is a… lifesaver sweet thang.” Bucky said and you looked down to see he had managed to roll himself over in his inebriated state, staring at the two of you with a dreamy expression, “You two….wouldmakegreatlooking babies.”

“And I think that’s our cue.” Sam said with a tight lipped smile. “Thanks again dude, we’ll get this back to you ASAP.” You didn’t hold back your disappointment when the blond nodded.

“Take your time, and don’t mention it.” He looked at you, blue eyes making you want to drown in them, “Have a good night 3-C.”

“You…you too Steve.” You managed to get out before being dragged out of the doorway by your roommate. You stared at him when he shut the door and threw the lock, walking over to the unopened bottle with newfound purpose. “What the hell was that about?” You jumped slightly when the door across the hall slammed shut.

“They were making me nervous Y/N, I don’t like the way they all talked to you.”

“Steve isn’t like the others Sam, you need to stop being so overprotective.”

“That Bucky dude was one sentence away from getting a second black eye.”

“You’re a big baby. Now get to pouring that wine! I gotta see what Dorothy was going to say to Blanche!”

“Yes ma’am.” Sam rolled his eyes before uncorking the bottle. “Anything else ma’am?”

You had already hit resume on the t.v, grabbing a handful of stale popcorn and throwing most of it in your mouth, making a face at the pieces that fell to the floor. You wasted no time snatching the glass from him before the two of you sat on the couch, continuing your binge.

~~Meanwhile~~

“You NEED to ask her out Stevie!” Tony whined, holding the ice pack to his head. Steve shook his head, throwing Bucky a bag of frozen peas. Which he didn’t catch. Steve should have figured as much.

“I don’t NEED to do anything Tony. So shaddup already.” He warned, Bucky cocking his head in confusion.

“Why not? You said she ain’t dating her roomie right?”

“Doesn’t mean she ain’t seeing anyone else.” He admonished, getting really tired of his friends poking their noses into his personal life. Again

“What do you have to lose if she is? She’s insanely hot dude, at least get on a first name basis with her!”

He still hadn’t gotten your name. Shit.

“Alright mister Casanova, and just how do you suggest I do that?”

“Go ask to borrow something.” Bucky suggested, a little more sober than he had been a couple hours ago. Which wasn’t much, but any progress is progress.

Steve pulled a face, “You’re an idiot.”

“But I’m your idiot.” He smiled brightly, standing to stretch and accidentally knocking off the hideous “Better latte than never” coffee mug Steve had been too nice to throw away. He had gotten it as a gift, the eyesore coming from a female patient whose life he had saved a couple years ago. It was a nice thought, but the bright green and hot pink polka dots weren’t really his thing. “Oh no! Whatever shall we do!”

“You dick!” Tony glared, pointing to the shards of ceramic that littered the cheap hardwood floors, “We haven’t bought a new dustpan yet!”

Bucky tapped his temple, pointing to the door. “Looks like you’ll have to ask the hot neighbor.”

Steve checked his phone. 4:30 AM “No way, it’s too fucking early.”

“They still might be up.” Bucky shrugged, padding his way to the door and opening it with a dramatic flourish. He cupped his ear, leaning into the hallway. Steve heard your giggle fit from the other side of the hall, small smile creeping its way over his lips. How Fortuitous. “Could I be anymore right?”

“Alright you win this round.” Steve wiped his face with his arm, careful to avoid his split lip as he walked into the hall, but not before hip checking Bucky. “Jesus I hope she doesn’t think I’m a creep.”

He lightly knocked, hearing a small yelp on the other side followed by a gruff “I swear if it’s 7-D again I’m gonna…”

“Lay off him Sam, he’s hot and has been nothing but sweet. You rather it be the bitchy land…”

Steve jumped back when you pulled the door open, having a bit of difficulty with the new amount of wine you’ve consumed and hanging onto it as the SQQQQUUUUUEAAAK made you wince. You really needed to get that fixed. “Steve, hi…your ears burning? We were just talking about you!”

Apparently you couldn’t whisper when you were drunk. Steve found it adorable.

“No I uh, didn’t hear a thing. I got a weird question.”

“I got a weird answer.” You deadpanned, right before erupting into a fit of giggles. “Shoot”

“You got a dustpan? Bucky broke a mug and we haven’t had a chance to get a new one since the stove incident a few months back.”

You stared at him, eyes wide. “How do you leave a dustpan on a stove?”

“Hangover Breakfast.”

“Ah. Say no more. You wanna step in for a sec?”

“Uh yea, sure.” Steve stepped into your space and immediately felt like he was home. All of the décor on the walls, the perfectly coordinated knick knacks. Hell even your curtains matched. It was an elegant take on pastels and spring themes. A lovely antique bird cage with flowers hung in the window. Stunning shades of blues and purples covered the furniture and windows, offsetting the gray colors of the couch, chair and tables. “Your space is amazing.”

“Thanks, it’s all Y/N and her HGTV obsession. Thankfully it’s all seasonal.” Sam laughed, emptying his glass. “You want a glass of wine while you wait? She usually doesn’t take long but we’ve had quite a bit to drink and right now I’d bet money she forgot which closet it’s in. We only have the one but her drunk brain sucks ass.” As if on cue the two men twisted their heads at the sound of you clamoring through the small closet.

“Nah I’ll pass. I’ve had more than enough for tonight. Thanks though.”

“I FOUND IT!” You emerged from the depths of Narnia, hair a mess and shirt rumpled holding a bright pink dustpan. The guys won’t him live that down, he could already hear them now. As if reading his thoughts you offered an apologetic smile, “Sorry bout the color.”

“It’s fine, you’re an absolute angel. Thank you.”

“Hey anytime, you’re quitelovelytolookat.” You got out in one long breath, eyes wide as you hoped he didn’t catch all of that. Wine made your sober thoughts flow out of your mouth a lot easier, which was always embarrassing.

“You’re quite attractive too Y/N.” Your eyes remained wide as you stared in panic.

“How did you…”

“Easy there no need to freak out, I’m not a stalker.” Steve chuckled, throwing his now dustpan clad hands in defense. “Sam told me. Like two minutes ago.” You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding, Sam rolling his eyes. This was so cute he wanted to puke. “Well I should get back to the guys before they figure out a way to burn the building down.”

“Right…” You gave a half smile, careful to get a good eyeful of his perfect ass as he left. The door shut with a loud creak. “He’s really cute Sam.” Sam made a face when his door slammed.

“Then do what NORMAL people do and, “He gripped your shoulders, giggles falling out of you as he gently shook you with every word, “Ask. Him out!”

“I barely know him Sam.”

“That what dates are for. Although with your track record you might as well just ask to borrow something after an hour. “

And with Sam’s brilliant idea lodged in your head you decided to do just that.

5:30 AM

Crreeeeeak

Your slightly less than sober self tiptoed into the hall, attempting to listen to the guys arguing over movies before knocking on the door. Steve answered the door in record time.

“Whatcha need Sweetheart?”

“You got any extra bags of popcorn? We’re out.”

“Sure thing, hang on.” You accepted the bags gratefully. “Anything else?”

“Favorite color?”

“Blue.”

“Blue….ok bye!”

“Bye”

Slam

Creeeeeeeak

6:30 AM

Slam

Knock

Your turn to open the door with a Creeeeeak

“Yes?”

“You got an iron?” Steve asked sheepishly, Tony, being slightly annoyed at the interruption of movie time poked his head into the hall.

“Why do you need an Iron? We have an Iron! I’m the Iron Man in this apartment!”

“She might have one not covered in cheese grease.” Steve said pointedly, Bucky looking guilty from opposite of Tony.

“That happened one time months ago! I bet it still works fine!” You gave the men a sympathetic glance.

Steve looked pleadingly at you. “Please.” You nodded, walking past a slightly irked and sleepy Sam to dig through the closet, returning promptly with an iron. “Thanks Doll, what’s your favorite movie?”

“Casablanca. You?”

“Pride and prejudice…” Your heart melted for .5 seconds before he quickly added “And Zombies.”

“Gotcha. Well, have a good morning. “

“Yea you too Y/N.”

Creeeeaaaak

Slam

7:30 AM

Creeeeeak

Knock Knock

Steve rubbed at his eyes before perking up at the sight of you in pjs, sleepy look on your own face as well.

“I don’t suppose you’ve got a blowtorch around here?” You asked casually.

Steve looked stunned. “Uh….One, should I be concerned for Sam’s well being?” You quickly shook your head. “Alright…Two, why do you need a blowtorch?”

“Crème Brulee” You laughed at his reaction, his eyebrows so far into his hairline they almost got lost into his hair. An exaggeration on your part but it was still definitely a sight. “Relax, I’m mostly sober. Just hungry.”

“There is no way your custard could have set by now.”

He noticed how you looked impressed before shrugging as if it were nothing, “It has when you own a blast chiller. Being employed by two world renowned chefs has its perks.”

“I guess. Hang on.” You managed to catch a glimpse of Tony and Bucky partially glaring at you from the living room.

“I’m not keeping you guys up am I?”

“Only meant to go to bed four hours ago.” Tony snapped before grinning, “But if you come in and cuddle with me til I fall asleep I’ll consider us even.” He winked and you felt slightly self conscious for standing in a doorway in a tank top and shorts.

“Tony, go to bed. No one is keeping you out here.” Steve tossed across his shoulder before handing you the handheld heat device. “One blowtorch. “

“Thanks Steve. Want me to bring you some?” You asked innocently, cradling the blowtorch like a newborn. Bucky cleared his throat. “I think Tony and I deserve some for putting up with you two all night.” You gave a deep sigh before nodding slowly.

“Done. I did plan on bringing you some anyway, for being so nice to me. And like a belated birthday present.” Bucky’s eyes almost bulged out of his head, whipping it over to Steve at such a speed you thought it would pop off and get carried out of the window.

“If you don’t marry her I call dibs.” You held up a finger before heading back to your apartment, the door being left open for the simple fact that Sam had threatened to smother you. His hangover was coming in hot, and he was always so cranky when he had one. You put the finishing touches on the small ramekins, using the blowtorch with skilled hands. The parents of the kids you sat most of the week had taught you a thing or two after all. You carefully set them on a tray and along with a French press of fresh coffee, bridged the gap between your two doors once more.

You set the tray down on the coffee table in front of three sets of hungry eyes. “I hope you like it!” You said cheerfully, taking a minute to soak in the childlike wonder that graced the three men’s faces. They took no time digging into the confection, Bucky and Tony making nearly identical moans at their first spoonful.

“I take back all the bad things I was thinking about you.” Tony got out before moaning again, “This stuff should be illegal.” You shook your head, slowly backtracking through the door.

“I’m glad, but I should be trying to sleep now. I hope you all have a goodnight…I mean morning.” You rushed back to your apartment with a loud crrreeeeeaaaak.

“She’s perfect.” Steve gushed after nearly inhaling his dessert.

“If only you had remembered to ask her out.” Tony muffled out, going to town on licking the inside of the small bowl as if there were any stray pieces of burnt sugar remaining. “Now it looks like I’m going to have to. Really have to twist my arm.”

Steve looked at your closed door in disappointment. “Shit.”

8:00 AM

Slam

Steve raised his hand, waiting a moment to knock. He’d been an annoying asshole all night to his roommates, not to mention yours. He should just call it a night but he desperately needed to ask you out before he lost his nerve. And before Tony had a chance to. He lightly rapped on the door, holding his breath while the door creaked open. But you didn’t answer.

One extremely pissed off and extremely hungover Sam Wilson did.

“Someone better be dying 7-D.”

“Oh uh no…sorry I was uh…” Steve trailed off, looking for a way to cover his ass from the obvious wrath coming his way. “Spit it out I don’t have all day.” Sam warned, tapping his foot impatiently.

“DoyouhaveablenderIcouldborrow?” Steve shot out, the mumbled jumbled mess making Sam quirk a brow, crossing his arms.

“Come again?”

“Sorry, “ Steve cleared his throat before starting again, “Do you have a blender I can borrow? For Bloody Marys? The guys are gonna have a wicked hangover and I thought I’d be nice and make them when they wake up.”

“A blender seems like the exact opposite of what they need with a hangover but what the hell. If it gets you out of my hair.“ Sam sighed, rubbing his eyes, “Hang on.” It took Sam ten seconds to retrieve the contraption and all of its matching parts. Steve would have been impressed, if he hadn’t felt so bad.

“One blender. Now let me die in peace.”

“Thanks…?” “Sam. Sam Wilson.”

“Sam.” Steve tried the name on for size with a wide smile. “Nice name.”

“Don’t push your luck Steve, Y/N may have fallen for that pretty boy crap but I sure as shit won’t.”

“I don’t suppose you two will want a Bloody Mary later?”

The door was already closing, Sam speaking into the shrinking crack with indifference. “Not unless it’s made out of sleep. Goodnight 7-D”

Steve thought his was the only door in the hallway that could slam.

Sunday, 3PM

“Y/N we need more toilet paper!” Sam called from the closet next to the bathroom, you hastily scribbling the words down on a post it note before grabbing your keys.

“I’m on it! If you think of anything else, text me!” You rushed out the door, not noticing you had forgotten to grab your apartment keys on the counter. You always carried two separate key rings, in the highly likely scenario of someone trying to mug you. Sam looked at them, wheels beginning to turn.

~~In 7-D~~

“I’m going out to get some celery!” Steve called, grabbing his keys and slipping on some worn sneakers, “If you need anything just message me!” Slam

“Today’s the day I change the locks.” Tony said confidently, retreating to his room briefly to grab the new set. He had been waiting for both of them to be home, but with the way Steve had been with Y/N all night he had a score to settle. Groaning at the sound of the trash man outside he pressed the once frozen bag of carrots to his head, walking out and past a comatose Bucky on the couch. Tony glared. Asshole can sleep through anything.

He was counting on it.

4:15pm

You were extremely concerned when you reached the apartment building and realized you forgotten your keys, temporary panic set in before you remembered two things.

One, Sam was still home.

And two, he was a light sleeper.

You practically sprinted down the hall, paying no mind to the tall blond that was slapped against his own door in defeat, random items along either side of the doorway. As you neared your own door you noticed a small pile of items had migrated outside as well, a bright orange sticky note attached to the oak door.

“They’ve locked us out.” Steve said with a groan, bag holding celery and coffee hitting the ground with an unimpressed thud. “They’re punishing us for this morning.”

“No way!” You bit out, knocking on the door angrily, “Wilma! Open this retched door if you ever want to take a shit again!” You looked down at the ground, finally acknowledging the objects. “What the hell is all of this?”

“It the things we borrowed from each other last night.” Came the blonde’s response, you recognizing the bright pink dust pan, French press, and Iron. Among other things he had asked for in the early hours.

“When did you borrow my blender?” You asked pointedly, noticing how Steve’s face turned a slight pink.

“This morning. I got Sam.” You mouth made a perfect O shape, taking the sticky note off the door. What he said-Sam

“This note makes no sense.” You whispered, scratching the crown of your head, looking up to Steve to see his blush deepen. “What’s this about?”

“Uh….here.” He handed you his own crumpled up note.

You can come in when you’ve grown a pair and asked her out –Tony

“Oh.” You stared at the note, shifting your weight from foot to foot while your hallway partner studied your face as if it was the first time meeting you. He jumped in surprise when you looked up again at him with a beaming smile, “Well how about lunch?”

“You’re not hungover?” He asked curiously, you scoffed.

“Please, I’m no rookie.”

“Lunch sounds great Y/N,” Steve beamed his own mega watt smile your way and held out his arm, “You ever been to Kay’s?”

“I looove Kay’s!” You gushed, grabbing his hand and dragging him down the hall, but not before yelling loudly. “IT’S A DATE! NOW YOU GUYS CAN PUT OUR STUFF BACK!”

The three men were happy to do it, thankful for some more peace and quiet. Even if only temporarily.

Six Months Later, 3 AM

Crreeeeaaaak

“God damnit.”

Your eyes shot open to the sound of your apartment door opening, waiting for the infernal door to scream in protest before it was shut. But that never came. Instead the sound of power tools and more cussing filled the air for a few moments before the sound of rattling metal and plastic containers flooded your ears. Curious, you threw on some slippers and opened your door, walking into the living room.

Your heart fluttered at the sight of Steve Rogers replacing your door hinges.

“Good morning handsome.” You called, walking up behind him and wrapping your arms around his solid middle, “You’re busy this morning. Long shift?”

“Nothing major, “ Steve moved so his arm came to rest around your side, “figured it was time we got this fixed. Especially since I live here now.”

“My hero,” You snarked, “whatever would I do without you?”

He snickered, “Probably kill Sam by now.”

“Yup.” You grinned when he let out a loud bark of laughter, “And now it’s just another thing you can hold over him when you see him and Tony this afternoon for brunch.”

“Copy that. Their apartment or ours this time?”He questioned, itching to get his hands on you.

“Theirs. So we have plenty of tim..” He gripped you tight and cut you off with a kiss, you responding immediately. Steve sighed and picked you up effortlessly while you wrapped your legs around him. He pushed the door shut and tossed the lock over with ease, walking both of you back to your room.

Both doors closed with a soft click.

The end.

Tagging: @kaytizzle @giggleberts @cuffski @pies-wands-and-more

#justkendingwritingchallenge #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers fanfiction #marvel au #marvel fanfiction

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