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x-reader-theater · 3 years

Text

I wish for you to feel as I do

summary: Spencer Reid has been dating his boyfriend for six years, but what happens when he finds out you’re killing to make him happy?

pairing: Spencer Reid x Male!Reader

details: Unsub Reader

category: Smut, Angst, Hurt/Comfort

word count: 8488

warnings: Reader as Unsub, rapey reader, controlling and manipulative reader, unhealthy relationship

a/n: This literally starts with smut so be warned. This was suuuuper fun to write! It’s an addition to this very short oneshot with an unsub reader, but I wanted to expand it because I just had so many ideas! @luvofyourlifeliv this is for your 500 follow contest so I hope you like it! As always, this is edited by @mystic-writes and I will upload it to Ao3 :) Enjoy!

Moodboard by Me

You kiss Spencer, leaning over him, over his book, pushing it down. You smirk into the kiss, but Spencer turns away from you.

"Hey! Hey!" he exclaims, trying to push you away, but you take the book from his hands and drop it onto the floor, before latching your lips to his neck. "I have work to do!"

"You read… 20,000 words a minute…" you say between kisses. "You can… read it… later…"

Spencer moans into your mouth, and reaches his hands up, placing them on your cheeks and pulling you closer, deepening the kiss. You bracket his legs with yours, and he gasps as you rub up against his growing erection. You reach down and take his half hard cock from his pants, stroking it until it becomes fully hard.

When Spencer goes to do the same for you, he stops. Because you're not hard at all.

You push off him and clear your throat, tucking yourself back into your pants and zipping them up.

"[Y/N], it's okay!" Spencer exclaims, but you ignore him, and the hand he puts on your shoulder. "It's totally normal!"

"It's not though!" you exclaim, turning to face Spencer and shrugging his hand off your arm. "We've been together for six years and I've never once had trouble… getting it up."

You huff and stand up, walking to grab your keys and your wallet, shoving them into your pockets as Spencer says from the couch, "The Cleveland Clinic estimates that it’s normal to have trouble getting or keeping an erection for up to 20 percent of sexual encounters. Having trouble getting an erection more than 50 percent of the time can indicate a medical issue." You stop and look at him, and he stands up, walking over to you, taking your hand, and kissing the knuckles. "It's too early to know if anything really is wrong. Just… take a breath."

You nod and take a deep breath in, kissing his own knuckles back, before saying, "Okay. I just… I need a drink." Spencer nods and you pull away. "I'll probably be back after midnight, so just go to sleep without me."

Spencer nods again and you exit your shared apartment.

You don't really know where you're going, your feet are just taking you somewhere. You walk past a bus station and nearly knock into a young blonde woman. You just stumble out of the way of her.

"Oh! I'm so sorry!" she exclaims, but you smile and shake your head.

"It was my fault," you say, putting your hands up. She smiles at you. "I wasn't looking where I was going." She smiles and nods, and you stick your hand out, saying, "I'm [Y/N]. What's your name?"

"Haley," she says with a smile, gripping your hand and shaking it.

You smile at her. "You should be careful, Haley. A pretty woman, all alone. You could get hurt," you say, and she frowns.

"That sounds like something my husband would say…" she trails off, but you're already walking away from her, a spring in your step as you walk into the first open bar you come across.

It's dingy and musty, but it'll do the trick of getting you drunk enough to forget everything that happened with Spencer tonight.

"I don't think I've seen you around here before," someone says next to you, and you turn and see a thin, pale man with curly brown hair and deep brown eyes.

You gasp slightly at how much he looks like Spencer. "No, no I just kinda found my way here. I don't even know where I am," you admit as the bartender comes over. You order a beer and the Bartender nods and walks off.

"I come here a lot. It's my local, really," the man says and you nod, grabbing your freshly poured beer, and taking a long gulp, draining half of it before putting it down. "Maybe I could… show you why I like it so much?"

The man trails a finger along the lapel of your shirt, and you look over at him, eyebrows raised. You take out your wallet and pay for the beer, before being led out a back door, into an even dirtier alley.

You could never hurt Spencer. You love him. You've loved him for years, and while you have no plans on getting married any time soon, you could see yourself being with him for the rest of your life. But, old habits are hard to break.

The man pushes you into the brick wall and starts kissing you, but before anything can happen, you take out your knife from your pocket, flick it open, and stab it into the man currently trying to tongue fuck you. He gasps and steps back, and you stab him again, and again, and again, until you're sure he's dead. You step back, panting, your knife clenched in your hand, and you grin, flicking the knife closed and stuffing it back into your pants. You're very thankful, in that moment, that you're wearing all black.

It is also at this point that it starts to rain.

You grin as you walk away from the unknown man, and when you look down, you see there's a tent in your pants, and you start playing with it, moaning as you think of the body back there, of Spencer, your perfect little Spencer just waiting at home for you.

You eventually find your way back to your apartment and step inside, taking off your soaked clothing and throwing it in a nearby hamper. You see your right thigh, where your knife was, and your chest, are stained slightly red. You take your wallet and phone out of your pockets and go into the bathroom to take a quick shower. Once you have the red scrubbed away, you dry off but don't put anything on.

You're still fully hard, the images of the body and Spencer filling your head as you showered, and you stroked yourself languidly.

When you get into bed, you smile at Spencer sleeping soundly, and you press yourself to his back, slotting your cock in between his ass cheeks, that are covered by TARDIS pajamas that you gave him for his twenty-eighth birthday. He moans and pushes back into you, not even fully awake yet, and you kiss the back of his neck, moving to his shoulder, where you suck a hickey into.

Spencer moves his hands to your head as you buck up into his ass, and you know he's awake. He turns around in your hold and kisses you as you run your fingers through his long, wavy brown hair. You remember the way the man's brown hair looked splayed out on the stone floor of the alleyway, and you almost cum right there, groaning loudly into Spencer's open mouth.

"What- what happened?" Spencer asks, reaching his hand down and grabbing your throbbing erection. You grunt and buck up into his hand, your hips moving of their own accord.

You kiss him and say, "Just… needed to clear my head. Fuck, Spencer you're so hot."

Spencer moans and grabs his own erection, slotting the two of yours together, and he pumps both of them in his fist. You kiss him, swallowing every grunt and moan that he makes, as well as his scream when he cums. You cum only seconds after him, but you're still hard in his grip.

"I am going to fuck you all night, Spencer Reid."

He only moans at that.

–

"Hey, hey! Pretty Boy! Have a late night?" Morgan asks as he walks into the small office kitchen for the BAU. Spencer looks up at him, frowning as he adds more sugar to his coffee.

"Yeah," Spencer says, his cheeks turning slightly pink, but he doesn't say anything more.

"Let me guess, Star Trek marathon?" Morgan asks with a laugh and Spencer ducks his head as he goes even more red, remembering exactly what you marathoned with him last night.

"Uh, ahem, something like that," Spencer says, clearing his throat, before stirring his sugary coffee and going back to his desk.

"Hey- wait a minute!" Morgan exclaims, and Spencer tenses, getting ready for his friend's grilling, when JJ interrupts.

"Hey! We have a case up in Syracuse. Hotch wants everyone in the Round Table Room in five," she says and Spencer lets out a breath of relief as he gets up and walks into said room, leaving a very confused Morgan behind.

–

You groan as you get home, shedding your bloody, black clothes, and you smirk at your erection. You've had no problem getting it up for Spencer the last few months, just thinking about the man you killed making you hard on the spot. Recently though, it hasn't been enough. You found yourself having to imagine Spencer dead and that just won't do. You would never hurt the love of your life. Ever.

You walk into the master bathroom and slip into the already-on shower, wrapping your arms around your lover, pressing your erection against his hole.

"You're back," you say, rubbing yourself against him.

Spencer hums and leans his head back onto your shoulder. "We just got in. I wanted to take a shower and see my amazing boyfriend," he says and you kiss him, on his neck, his shoulder, and all down his arm. You kiss his palm and the pads of each of his fingers. "Everyone else wanted to go out for drinks, but I told them I had to get home. I wanted to see you."

You moan into his skin as you suck on his shoulder, biting slightly. Spencer gasps and jumps and you lick over the wound, kissing it. You didn't break the skin, just bit gently. You would never hurt your baby.

You pull back, looking at Spencer's back, the back of his head, his lithe body, his pert ass, and you think of the man you killed tonight. He also had brown hair and pale skin, but that's about where the similarities ended. He was shorter than Spencer, his hair shorter as well and less curly, but when you plunged your knife into his back, and felt his sides tighten, it felt like Spencer when he came.

Your cock jumps against your boyfriend's ass, and you take the lube you have in your shower, sticking your fingers into his tight hole, pushing them in and scissoring him open. He pushes back onto your fingers and you hook them. He jumps and you have to hold his hip with your free hand so he doesn't slip and fall in the shower.

You slick up your own cock and slam it in, causing Spencer to cry out in ecstasy as you pull out almost all the way, and slam back into him over and over. Spencer braces his arms on the shower wall, and the feeling of water cascading down your chest just makes it all even hotter. You think back to the first man you killed, how it rained right after you killed him, and how it's almost like it's raining now. Cleaning away your sins. Making you the perfect man for Spencer once again.

You cum at that thought, shooting your load into Spencer's ass, who comes only seconds after, not having touched his cock once.

You pull out of him and turn him around, kissing him, and he's practically melting into you.

"I love you," you say and he smiles, wrapping his arms around your shoulders.

"I love you too," he says back.

–

"Another long night?" Morgan asks, and Spencer frowns. He already got his coffee and Morgan didn't even see him make it this time.

"What are you talking about?" Spencer asks, and Morgan points to Spencer's neck. He takes out the small, two inch mirror from his top desk drawer and almost drops it when he sees the large, purple and black bruise on his neck. You told him to forego the tie, and to leave his shirt unbuttoned since it was going to be another hot summer day today, but now he knows why you really did it.

Spencer yelps and slaps a hand over the bruise, turning a deep shade of red as Morgan cackles.

He comes home that night and you laugh at Morgan's reaction, before soothing Spencer, kissing his temple and telling him that you just want people to know you're his. He blushes, admitting that he'd like that too, and you ask to mark him again, this time right underneath his jaw.

Spencer doesn't hesitate when he says yes.

"Woah, Pretty Boy. You okay?" Morgan asks the next morning when Spencer walks in. "Did you get mugged or something?"

Spencer frowns and touches the dark purple mark under his chin. "What? No."

"Did your girl do this to you? Because I swear to God if she hurts you…" Morgan says and Spencer's eyes go wide.

"No! No one hit me. My boyfriend gave me what I believe is called a 'hickey'," he says.

Morgan frowns before asking, "Boyfriend?" Spencer nods. "I didn't know you were gay."

"You never asked, and I didn't have a reason to tell you," Spencer says casually, shrugging as he gets some files out and starts working on them.

"How long have you two been together?" Morgan asks.

"Today's the 16th so 6 years, 9 months, 3 weeks and 6 days," Spencer says, and Morgan's jaw drops.

"Six years?!" he exclaims and Spencer nods. "And you haven't told anyone?"

Spencer shrugs. "We never felt the need."

Morgan stares at Reid, dumbfounded, the rest of the day.

–

"Hey, baby?" you call out into the apartment from the entryway.

"In here!" you hear Spencer call back.

You walk to the back of the apartment and open the door to Spencer's study. He's sitting at his desk, writing something down on a legal pad, before looking back at a book next to him. You walk over and start kissing the side of his neck, mouthing up and down, and he shivers underneath your touch.

"I'm going to go out and grab something," you say, kissing right behind his ear, making Spencer moan. "I'll be back tonight. I expect you to be in bed, naked."

Spencer shivers, and when you come back an hour later, you see he followed your instructions perfectly.

–

There's no witty remark from Morgan this morning. No quip about having a good time or marathoning or whatever. Just a smirk that makes Spencer beet red.

Spencer's about to say something when JJ calls out to the team, "We have a case!"

They all file into the round table room and sit down, getting handed files. JJ stands at the front of the room and the television turns on.

"Last night, Riley Heartwood was found stabbed to death in downtown DC," JJ says.

Spencer's breath leaves him. The man looks almost exactly like him.

"When was he killed?" Morgan asks, not noticing Spencer.

"It says here around 10pm last night," Rossi interjects.

Spencer feels his heart stop as he looks over the files.

Fred Giles, killed three months ago on the 28th, the day you couldn't get hard, and left, is the exact day and time that Giles was murdered. Then there's Terrance Lake, murdered the day you joined him in the shower, cumming at your normal time instead of taking longer than normal like you had been the last few days. And now Riley Heartwood, murdered last night right before you came home from grabbing something at the grocery store, hard and aching, and fucking Spencer until he screamed and forgot his own name for six minutes and twelve seconds.

He feels his phone buzz in his pocket and he grabs it, seeing it's a text from you.

To; Spencie 😘

From; [Y/N] 😍

I can't wait until you get home!

There's a picture attached with you sitting at his desk, shirtless and winking.

Once is a happening. Twice is a coincidence. Thrice is a pattern.

Spencer sits up suddenly, standing and grabbing the folder. "I-I have to go. Family Emergency," he mutters before sprinting out of the room. He grabs his messenger bag and makes sure his gun is still on his hip.

–

You're sitting at home when you hear a gun cocking.

"Please tell me you didn't kill that man last night?" Spencer asks.

You sigh and turn around slowly, standing up from your couch. "You don't like it when I lie to you, Spencer."

You see his hand tighten on the gun, but he doesn't put his finger on the trigger. You take a step forward, but he doesn't move back.

"You're-you're impotent, aren't you?" Spencer asks.

You smirk. "I wasn't last night when I was fucking you into the mattress and had you screaming out my name as my hands touched you."

Spencer gasps, and his grip falters slightly. You dash forward and grab the gun from his grip, before pulling your body against his. You groan as your groin brushes against his, leaning down to nip at the hickey you put on him last night.

"I-I have to arrest you. Take you in," he says, stuttering and nervous.

You smirk and kiss him behind his ear, making him moan. "You would never. Besides, you could never catch me before I got to your mom…"

Spencer freezes, but doesn't say anything.

You lean down and press a kiss to his cheek, saying, "Please don't hate me." Spencer sucks in a breath as you kiss his cheek again. "I did this for you. I couldn't stop imagining myself hurting you, and I can't do that to you. Ever. I love you, Spencer Reid, and I just wanted to be the perfect boyfriend for you."

Spencer nods slowly. "They- they looked like me. The men you killed."

You nod and turn Spencer around so he's facing you. "I don't want to ever hurt you, Spencer. I love you too much."

"You-you're a psychopath. How- you can't love me!" Spencer exclaims and you sigh, burying your face in the crook of his neck.

"If I can't, how did I fool you, a seasoned profiler, for six years?" you ask.

Spencer stops as he thinks about it. If you were faking it, Spencer would have known. He would have seen it. He's seen psychopaths fake love before. Frank comes to mind when he first thinks of it. But, you aren't killing these men for yourself. You're doing it for Spencer. For the man you love.

And as much as Spencer wants to turn you in, he can't deny the adrenaline that courses through him when he thinks about how all of this is for him. To make him happy. To keep him satisfied.

Spencer leans up and kisses you, feeling himself get hard against your thigh, and you are equally as hard. You set Spencer's gun down on his desk and wrap your arms around his waist, dipping your hands down to grab at his ass. He gasps and you take that opportunity to slip your tongue in his mouth.

Just as you're about to push him onto the comfortable sofa that's in the room for you to use when Spencer's working and you want to be near him, Spencer's phone rings.

Spencer groans and pulls away, taking out his phone and answering it. He puts it on speaker but presses a finger to your lips to quiet you. You kiss his finger, but nod.

"Reid? Everything okay?" Morgan asks on the other side of the phone.

Spencer nods. "Yeah. My uh… my boyfriend… fell down the stairs at our apartment!" Spencer exclaims and you nod, silently telling him it was a good cover story. "He sprained his ankle and I had to help him back up the stairs and into bed."

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that," Morgan says and Spencer lets out a silent sigh. You kiss him quietly. "You ran out of there so fast. I'll tell the others you'll be back in tomorrow," he says and Spencer nods.

"Okay. I gotta go, but I'll see you tomorrow," he says, and he hangs up. He throws his phone onto the sofa and pulls you to him again, kissing you loudly, moaning and gasping at every swipe of your tongue, every tug of his hair.

"I love you, Spencer Reid," you say.

"I love you too, [Y/N] [L/N]."

–

"How long?" Spencer asks, tracing what seems like random shapes into your skin, but you know they have meaning to him.

You shrug. "Ever since I was younger. I would purposefully get into fights with other kids so I could hit them. I never killed any animals, and I was never really a bedwetter. I did like to start fires. My parents would always let me light the candles at dinner," you say. "The first person I ever killed was my babysitter. I was nine and she was seventeen. She kept touching me, kissing me, trying to take my clothes off. I got her onto the third floor balcony and pushed her off. I called my parents crying and told them she fell when I was playing in the yard when I wasn't supposed to."

"Wow," Spencer says, his hands stilling for a moment before continuing.

"The second person I killed was the first time I killed with a knife. It was my next door neighbor. He would bully me at school, shove me into lockers, take my clothes when I was changing so I'd have to run through the school naked after him to get my clothes back, hit me, things like that. He cornered me in my backyard one day, jumping our shared fence. He was going to kill me. I ran inside and grabbed a knife and when I ran back out, I crashed into him, stabbing him. I cut my side with the blade to make it look like self defense, and told the police he attacked me. I ran inside and got a kitchen knife, and he took it from me. I managed to get it back and he ran at me. I told them it was an accident. It was, but it felt so good, I didn't want to stop," you say.

"So you didn't," Spencer says, and you shake your head. "But, you haven't killed anyone for over six years.

You nod. "I met you," you say, running your hands through Spencer's hair and bringing his head up to kiss you. "I found everything I needed. But, those urges came back. And I wanted everything to be perfect for you. I wanted you to have everything you could ever want. And for you, that meant sex. I know how much you like it." Spencer nods and blushes, looking away, but you move his face so he's looking at you again, and you kiss him. "It's nothing to be ashamed of. I need it to. And I would never, ever hurt you. But, I kept thinking about it. And it scared me."

Spencer nods and curls up against you so his head is on your chest. You kiss his hair as he mutters, "I love you."

You smile. "I love you too, baby. Now, let's get some sleep."

–

Spencer wakes with a start, shaking and crying. You feel the bed moving and slowly wake up, only to see Spencer in distress. You sit up as well and hold him to your chest as he cries.

"What have I done? What will everyone think of me? Why do I want to- I want- why-"

"Spencer, Spencer," you say, and almost as if he forgot you lived with him, his head snaps to look at you. "Baby, what's going on?"

"I shouldn't like it. I should take you in. I shouldn't want to know what it feels like, but I do. I want to know," he mutters, almost to himself, but he's still looking directly at you.

"You want to know what it feels like to kill someone?" you ask. Spencer nods. You smile and kiss him. "I can help arrange that."

Spencer nods. "I know I shouldn't like you… killing people for me, but I can't help it. It makes me happy to know you want me to be happy."

"Oh, baby," you say, holding him even closer to your bare chest. Spencer wraps his arms around you. "I would do anything to make you happy."

Spencer hums, contentedly.

–

"Everything okay, Reid?" Hotch asks as the youngest profiler walks into the Round Table Room that morning, his bag still on his hip.

Spencer smiles and nods. "Everything is fine."

"Morgan told us you had a family emergency, but wouldn't say anything else," Rossi says and Spencer nods again, throwing a grateful look to Morgan.

He sighs and takes his messenger bag off, setting it at the ground by his desk before he begins to talk. "My boyfriend fell down the stairs in our apartment yesterday. I had to go home and help him."

JJ just nods and Garcia "Aw’s” as Hotch, Prentiss, and Rossi all narrow their eyes at him.

"You've never mentioned having a boyfriend," Prentiss says and Spencer sighs.

"It was my business and neither he nor I wanted to share it. But, we want to now," Spencer says.

"How long! How long!" Garcia asks, practically bouncing in her seat.

"Baby girl, they've been together for over six years now," Morgan says.

Garcia's jaw drops, as does everyone else's in the room.

"Six years?" JJ asks and Spencer nods. "Why didn't you tell us?"

Spencer shrugs. "Because we weren't ready. Can we get started on the briefing now?"

The team nods and JJ turns back to the screen.

"Spence, we weren't able to get to the briefing yesterday, so we know about as much as you do," JJ explains. Spencer nods.

"I think the unsub might be impotent," Morgan says, looking at the files. "The stabbing could indicate that."

"But, there was no semen found on the body. Usually, men who are impotent get off on the dead body as well as the killing," Spencer explains. A few of his co-workers nod.

"I want to find out more about where these men were before they were murdered," Hotch says. "Reid and Morgan, go to the bar where Giles was last seen, Rossi and Prentiss, Lake, and JJ and I will go to where Heartwood was last seen. We'll meet back here and discuss what we learned."

–

Spencer walks into the bar you were in only six months before, where you killed Fred Giles.

"Hey! What can I get you boys?" the bartender asks from behind the bar.

Morgan walks over and takes out his badge, saying, "I'm Agent Morgan and this is Doctor Reid. We're here to ask about Fred Giles, the man who was murdered behind your bar six months ago."

The bartender nods and sighs. "Yeah. I knew him. Said he was a regular to all the attractive men who walked in. He never bought anything though," he says. "Always just came in for sex. When I confronted him about it, he said he needed it, that he couldn't live without it, and he was a nice enough guy so I let him. He never deterred people from coming back."

The bartender shrugs and Spencer steps up, asking, "Did anyone talk to him that night?"

"Uh, yeah. Some bloke. Don't know his name. He's never come back, but we get a lot of that here. Had a beer and they left out the back. Never saw him again."

"Sir, can you describe him for us?" Morgan asks, taking off his sunglasses.

"No, sorry," the bartender says, picking up some glasses and putting them away underneath the bar. "It was busy and we don't usually have a lot of lights on in here. I know he was handsome. Fred wouldn't've gone with him if he weren't. Sorry, boys."

Spencer nods and smiles and Morgan walks off, going towards the back door that leads out into the alley. As soon as Spencer steps out of the bar, he can feel himself getting hard.

Spencer's never gotten hard at the thought of a dead body, except when he first started. He was young and beautiful sitting in the slab in the morgue, naked and displayed for him to assess. He had never seen a body so beautiful, so peaceful, and he had gotten an erection while looking at it.

Now though, just the thought that you had killed this man to make Spencer feel good has his heart racing and adrenaline coursing through his stomach. He shifts his messenger bag over his groin to hide his growing erection. He flushes and looks down at the ground, trying to will away the thoughts of you murdering someone, and him finding it erotic.

"Hey," Morgan says, and Spencer looks up at him, eyes wide. "Do you know if Garcia got the footage from the camera here?" Spencer shakes his head and Morgan pulls out his phone, pressing a button before holding it up to his ear. "Hey pretty mama, there's a CCTV camera in the alley behind the bar where Fred Giles was murdered. Can you see if that footage is anywhere?"

There's a few moments of silence, and Spencer looks around, trying to see if there's anything the CSI missed, but it doesn't look like it.

"Are you sure? Damn. Okay, thanks mama." Morgan flips the phone shut and sighs. "CCTV's fake, used to deter thieves most likely," he says and Spencer nods. "We should head back."

–

"Reid. Morgan. Find anything?" Rossi asks as the two step into the bullpen.

Morgan scoffs. "Nah. Nothing. He's handsome, but we figured that out already. Bartender didn't see anything and the CCTV in the back was fake so we got nothing."

Rossi nods. "Us as well. Maybe we should wait for Hotch. Maybe he found someone."

The rest of the team nods and Spencer takes out his phone, texting you.

To: [Y/N] 😍

From: Spencie 😘

Team hasn't found anything. Keep you updated.

You message back just as quickly.

To: Spencie 😘

From: [Y/N] 😍

Okay! I love you. Hurry back home quickly! I want to show you something!

Spencer grins as he looks at his phone, before Morgan clears his throat. He quickly shuts it off and slides it into his back pocket, before following Morgan into the round table room.

"Why are you so happy?" Prentiss asks, and Spencer schools his expression, clearing his throat.

"My, uh, ahem, my boyfriend texted me," Spencer says and Prentiss nods, seeming to accept that answer. Spencer lets out a sigh of relief.

–

"[Y/N]? Are you home?" Spencer calls out into the apartment, and you walk out of the study in a pair of black skinny jeans and a black button down, heavy black work boots already on your feet. You walk over to your boyfriend and put your arms around him, leaning your forehead against his.

"Go get dressed. We're going out tonight," you say, but Spencer groans.

"Do we have to?" he whines and you frown.

"You wanted to know what it was like, Spence. So, I'm going to show you," you say, and that gets Spencer's attention.

He looks at you, wide eyed, and asks, "Really?"

You nod and kiss him. "Really. Now, get dressed. We don't want you to ruin your good clothes," you say and he nods, giving you one, last, chaste, kiss before running into the bedroom.

He comes out a few minutes later, and you almost take him right there. He's wearing a pair of black skinny jeans you bought him years ago, and a tight black t-shirt.

You walk over and take him in a searing kiss, putting your hand down his pants and groping him. You realize then that he's not wearing underwear and you have to restrain yourself from fucking him on the floor.

"You have no idea what you do to me," you mutter against his lips before pulling away. Spencer whines but you just pay his ass and motion for him to grab his stuff.

Thirty minutes later you find yourself and Spencer in a club. When asked why you were coming here instead of a bar, you answer that no one would suspect him being here.

He admits that it's actually very smart.

You sit down in a booth and pull him onto your lap, making sure everyone around you knows who this gorgeous man belongs to. He tilts his head to the side to give you access to his neck, to kiss and lick and nip to your heart's desire.

"I want to dance," you say to Spencer after a few minutes of indulging in your boyfriend.

Spencer nods and gets up off your lap before grabbing your hand and letting you lead him out onto the busy dance floor. You can feel Spencer shaking underneath you, and you pull him towards you, putting your hands in his back pockets. You kiss him deeply, letting your bodies sway to the music, your groins rubbing against each other. You can feel eyes on the two of you, but you don't care.

Spencer moans into your mouth and you pull away, nipping at Spencer's bottom lip. The man moans deliciously and you kiss him again, trying to drink every sound. You pull away again and Spencer is staring at you with a goofy smile on his face.

"See?" you ask, loudly, over the music. "That wasn't so bad."

Spencer nods and places his head in your neck, swaying to the music that you should be jumping to, but you don't care. You lock eyes with a young man with curly brown hair and pale white skin, and the man sitting next to him. You nod at them before turning to look down at Spencer, who still has his face buried in your neck.

"Baby," you say to him, nudging him with your shoulder. He looks up at you so innocently, and you have to lean down and kiss him again, showing all your love in the single kiss, prying open his lips with yours and letting your tongues explore each other for the millionth time. Well, you know it's probably not the millionth, and Spencer could absolutely tell you the accurate number, but you're too distracted by his mouth to ask.

You pull away again and say, "Let's go sit down. I want to find someone."

Spencer nods and you lead him back to the booth you were at before, sitting down before Spencer settles on your lap. You shift your hand from his hip to underneath his button up, resting it on his stomach. Spencer gasps and you feel his stomach flatten even more. You grind your hips up into his ass, already half hard at the thought of killing a pretty little brunette. He groans as that pretty brunette from before sits across from you with his friend next to him.

"Hi!" the brunette says, grinning wildly, and you're struck by how much he looks like Spencer. Even more than the first. "I'm Daniel! This is my boyfriend, Gary!"

The man next to him raises a hand, but doesn't say anything. You raise an eyebrow at that, but don't say anything about it.

You smile at them. "It's nice to meet you both. My boyfriend and I were looking to meet some couples around here."

"You were magnetic! I couldn't take my eyes off you! I think Gary here was a little jealous…" Daniel says, and Gary glares at him, but doesn't say anything.

You smirk and nuzzle Spencer's neck, who tilts his head to give you a better angle. "Isn't he just?"

You lock eyes Daniel, who shudders. "Come join us out back. We've been looking for some fun…"

Daniel grins, turning to look at Gary, who nods, before the two get up. "We're going to go to the bathroom, but I know that no one will bother us out back…" Daniel says and you nod, watching the two walk away.

You kiss Spencer's cheek, who hasn't said anything for a few minutes. "What do you think?"

"Daniel looks like me," Spencer whispers and you nod against his throat. "Is he yours?"

"If I could," you say, and Spencer nods. "He looks so much like you baby. But no one could ever be you." You kiss his cheek before leaning back and grabbing something from your back pocket, before placing it in Spencer's hand, underneath the table. "Gary's big, but he'll squeal like a stuck pig if you stab him. You need strength, but once the blade gets past the epidermis, it'll be easy."

Spencer whines, grinding down onto your lap, and you lick right under his jaw. "I know."

You smirk. "Reading about it and doing it are two very different things. Don't be afraid to ask for help."

Spencer nods again and you squeeze his thigh, before pushing him up and making him pocket the knife. You grab him by the hand and lead him out back, where Daniel and Gary are already waiting. You grin and let go of Spencer, walking over to Daniel before pinning him to the wall of the alley. He moans underneath you, and you reach into your back pocket, grabbing your knife. You tilt your head and Daniel latches his lips to your neck, and you look over at Spencer.

He's also pressed against the wall behind him, and he's being petted by Gary ever so gently. When the man turns to look at his partner, you lock eyes with Spencer and nod miniscule-y, before turning back to Daniel. You wait until Gary's eyes are off you, before grabbing your knife, and flicking it open, before stabbing it right underneath the young man's solar plexus.

You feel that rush and shiver as you look over, and see Spencer doing the same thing. Gary looks like he's about to cry as he looks over at Daniel, but you grin, your cock starting to harden in your pants. You pull the knife out and drive it in again, and again, and again, and soon, Daniel can't hold himself up anymore, and you let him fall to the ground.

Looking at Spencer, you see he still hasn't moved, has kept his knife right where he first stabbed it, and you notice Gary starting to get angry. You walk over and lean in so your lips are right next to Spencer's ear, and you whisper, "What do you think?"

That seems to break Spencer from his spell and he moans beautifully, before pulling the knife out and plunging it in again. You reach down and grab his already hard cock through his pants, groping him through the thick jeans, and Spencer bucks up into your hand, stabbing Gary again.

After three, the man is dead weight and he falls to the ground. You step around his body and put your knife away, before pressing Spencer into the wall and kissing him, flicking your tongue into his mouth as he ruts up against you. You slip your hand into his pants and start stroking his cock, he groans, but pushes you away.

"We- oh yes! We can't leave any evidence," he says and you sigh, taking your hand from his pants.

You kiss him before saying, "You're right. You're so smart. I love you so much."

"I love you too," Spencer says and you grin, holding out your hand.

He puts his knife away and takes yours before you lead him out of the alley, leaving two dead bodies behind.

–

"He's accelerating," Morgan says the next morning at the debrief.

There was no talk from Morgan this morning about Spencer getting some. As much as you wanted to mark his neck, Spencer talked you down, stating that if he caught onto what you were doing, the others would notice by the hickeys alone. You conceded and just marked him below the collar.

As Spencer thinks about this he presses his fingers into one of the bruises and has to bite his lip to keep from crying out in ecstasy.

"Yeah, he is," Rossi says. "Could be he's devolving."

Hotch shakes his head. "If that were the case, the bodies would probably be more roughed up. Gary Jenkins and Daniel Espinoza knew each other. They were dating. If one saw the other go down, there would be a lot of defensive wounds."

"What are you sayin', Hotch?" Morgan asks.

Before Hotch can reply, Spencer interrupts and says, "He's saying he thinks the unsub has a partner."

Hotch nods and Rossi and Prentiss look at each other. "I can see that being a possibility, but we can't rule out that he's just that good," Prentiss says and everyone nods.

"Here's a thought," Spencer says, and everyone looks over at him. "The unsub could be a woman. Usually stabbing creates a sexual response in men who can't normally get an erection, being able to penetrate a body without using the penis, but there's been no semen found at any of the crime scenes. The first one it rained after, but the others it didn't, and there should have been some evidence."

Morgan and Rossi nod but Hotch frowns. "Could be, but we shouldn't scrap what we have now for that," Hotch says and Spencer sighs.

"I think I have something!" Garcia exclaims, running into the conference room.

–

"I want to kill my father," Spencer says that night as you are making dinner for him.

You freeze in your movements before continuing, asking hesitantly, "Are you sure? If you do, you probably won't be able to go back to the BAU. We may have to run."

You hear Spencer get up and walk over to you, wrapping his arms around your waist, leaning his chin on your shoulder.

"Garcia found something, a surveillance camera at the end of the alley, the end we didn't walk through. But, they know there's two unsubs, and that one's Caucasian. They couldn't get a good read on you, but it's only a matter of time before you're found- before we're found out," Spencer explains and you nod, turning to lock your arms around his waist and kiss him deeply.

"Okay, baby," you say, kissing him again. "Whatever you want, I'll provide. Anything."

Spencer grins and kisses you again.You feel him shiver as you move a hand from his hip to his lower back and you pull him in closer. "We'll get on the first flight out of here if that's what you want. Just you and me."

Spencer nods. "We should do some planning, but I want that. I want to see the country, and not because some murder happened there."

You grin. "I've always wanted to do a road trip of the country!" you exclaim and Spencer grins back, kissing you.

"Me too."

–

A week later sees you and Spencer on a cross country flight to Las Vegas, your apartment, car, and stuff all sold and liquidated into cash. You took as much money as you possibly could from your accounts and Spencer did the same. You both took your vacation time off from work.

The rest of the BAU had been angry at Spencer, but understood his need to have his boyfriend meet his mother. There also haven't been any more murders in DC, which means their current back alley ripper case was currently cold. Hotch had approved it before he told the rest of the team. Spencer just didn't tell Hotch that you had already met his mother five years ago.

The flight is long and cramped, but you and Spencer have each other, and that makes it worth it. You get to Vegas and as soon as you check into your motel, you fuck Spencer every way you can, wanting to feel every part of him, and needing to stretch after the long flight. Spencer wasn't complaining.

But today was the day.

Spencer's leg wouldn't stop bouncing in the taxi as you both made your way to his father's law firm. You don't know exactly what he did to Spencer as a child, but you know it was bad enough that he's still with you, willing to kill his own father to stay with you forever. You place a hand on his thigh and he looks over at you, nervousness written across his face like the headline of a newspaper.

You lean in and kiss his cheek. "It will be okay. You can do this. And if you can't, I'll do it for you."

He nods and you grin, kissing his cheek again before leaning back over into your seat, but you don't remove your hand from his leg.

You arrive in front of the building and thank the cabbie, paying the fare and giving a tip before exiting the vehicle. You grab Spencer's hand and drag him into the brown brick building before he can turn around. You squeeze his hand and walk in, looking at the receptionist with a smile.

He smiles at you, a large, fake smile that you know he practiced. "Hi! What can I do for you today?"

You pull Spencer forward so he's standing next to you, and you ask sweetly, "Can you please tell Mr. William Reid that Doctor Spencer Reid, his son, is here to see him?"

The man's eyes widen and he nods, picking up his phone and telling the man exactly that. You smile as he tells you what floor and room to go to, and Spencer is the one to drag you this time, going to the elevators. As soon as the door closes, you push him against the wall and kiss him.

"We're so close, baby," you say, kissing him.

He nods against your mouth before pulling back. "I love you."

You grin. "I love you."

You give him a chaste kiss before pulling away right as the doors open, showing a long stretch of doors along a brown hallway. You and Spencer walk side by side to his father's door, and you knock. You grab Spencer's hand once more and the man squeezes your fingers, making you smile.

The door opens, and William Reid is standing in front of you, eyes wide and mouth open. "So, you're the one who fucked up my baby for life," you say, and William blinks at you. It's just enough time for Spencer to draw his knife, and plunge it into his father's stomach, pushing him back into his office. The man lets out a strangled groan, and you walk into the office after Spencer, closing the door behind you. You look around and when you don't see a camera, you walk over to the desk, turning the laptop so it's pointing at Spencer and his father, and you hit record.

Spencer brings both his hands up and slams them back down, plunging the knife into his father over and over, screaming out, "That's for telling me it's normal! That's for telling me to deal with it! That's for locking me in that dark room with nothing!"

You flinch at that. Spencer can't be alone in the dark. You used to have a night light in every room so he wouldn't be scared. That makes your own anger flare up, and you walk over to the two men. Spencer is kneeling beside his father's chest, plunging the knife into him over and over again, drawing more and more blood. When he finally stops, panting heavily and leaning back on his feet, you grab his shirt and pull him to you, kissing him soundly, not caring about your pants being soaked through by the blood pooling around Spencer's father.

You pull back before getting up, dragging Spencer with you, and you push everything but the laptop off the desk. You push Spencer face first onto it, freeing his cock from his pants and stroking him. It doesn't take long for Spencer to go from half hard to fully hard, and you pull down his pants, fishing a bottle of lube out of your coat. You make eye contact with the computer, and you coat your fingers in lube. You lean in and kiss Spencer's neck, still not breaking contact, as you insert one finger inside of Spencer, quickly adding another. Spencer moans loudly as you bite down on his pulse point, adding a third finger. You scissor him open, before opening your pants and taking out your cock, and slicking it up as well. You pull him to the edge of the desk, and slam into him in one go.

He throws his head back and screams loudly, before leaning in and kissing you soundly. You move your eyes from the computer and close them, moaning at the feeling of Spencer's tight heat enveloped around your hard cock, and your hips stutter as you get closer to your release.

"Touch me! [Y/N] I need you to touch me," Spencer exclaims and you do as asked, using your already lubed hand to wrap it around Spencer's prick and start stroking him. He gasps and moans loudly into your mouth.

"Spencer, baby I love you. So much," you say, and Spencer cries out, his body tightening, and his cum splashes on your hand and his shirt.

When you feel Spencer clench around you, you cry out as well, making eye contact once again with the computer camera before you cum, filling Spencer with your seed.

You pant and kiss him before slowly pulling out, your dick over sensitive and aching. You lean over Spencer, give the computer a wink, and end the recording, saving it to the desktop.

"Baby," you pant, putting yourself back in your pants. "I want to see the Grand Canyon."

Spencer grins. "Have you never been?" he asks and you shake your head. His grin gets wider and he stands up, situating himself as well, before grabbing your hand. "Come on! We can take William's car!" You look in his desk drawer and grin, holding up his keys when you find them.

That night, on a blanket next to the grand canyon, you and Spencer make love.

–

Morgan and Prentiss walk into the crime scene, cringing at the amount of blood that has soaked into the white carpet. They walk over to the desk and look at the open laptop, clicking on the file in the middle of the screen.

"😘.mov"

Prentiss throws up into the bin by the desk, and honestly, Derek wants to throw up too.

#Spencer reid #spencer reid x male reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x unsub reader #spencer reid x male unsub reader #unsub reader #luvofyourlifelivsficchallenge #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x y/n #criminal minds reader insert #my work #My writing

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myfeetkeepdancing · 4 years

Text

Lost and Found | Arvin Russel x Male!Reader

Request: I kind of thought about Arvin arrived in new city, without cash (maybe only small amount) and wandering aimlessly. Then he stop at a diner realising he doesn't have a place to stay at night and buy food, decide to leave but stopped by mreader(waiter?owner?) and said that he can eat for free (mreader can't help after watching him so pitiful). Later on mreader said that he know Arvin not from here, and kind of tell him place to stay and also a job if he want to, i mean who can just ignore Arvin.

Warnings: Cursing, smoking.

Words: 4915

---

A mere glimpse. Just enough. A man, somewhere around your age. You'd seen him walk past the large window as you cleaned the last plates, halt for a moment before turning inwards. Stepping into your diner. The place wasn't big. But it had style, that look about it. Vibrant colors, yet cozy and warm. Located on the corner of a busy street, always something happening. Always movement. Three booths on either side, each seat sporting a view through the large windows on that bustling street. Opposite the booths stood the bar, it wrapped around the corner and partially hid the kitchen—enough stools to fit a soccer team. A small space was occupied by a door in the left corner; behind lay a staircase leading up. On the far right stood the large jukebox, too large for the place. But what is a diner without it? In all, a small place, but locally renowned for the food. Except for tonight. Tonight was quiet—a boring, dull, dark night.

"How may I help you?" You asked, moving towards him, drying your hands on the towel slung over your shoulder. "Kitchen is still open." At first sight, he struck you as a roadworker. A knapsack slung over his shoulder and worn-torn jeans and jacket. His once white shirt underneath grime with dirt and sweat. With his gray cap on, you couldn't really tell his expression as he was busy with the contents of his wallet. Spreading a small collection of coins across the bar. He cleared his voice before speaking. "Hi...ehm..." His voice was hoarse and dry. "W-What can you get me for this?" Speaking with an accent that wasn't from around. Working in the dinner, you heard and spotted many different ones. Making it a sport to figure out where they came from. But his posture and expression didn't lend towards a nice conversation. He looked reserved and held back.

Wiping your hands clean on your apron, you step closer and lean in, accessing what lay in front of you. It was obvious; he had literally turned his wallet upside down on the counter. Scraping every last coin out of there. The amount in front of you was far off from a meal you served here. But there was something about him as you looked up. You get a glimpse of his eyes underneath the cap. His eyes sat deep in his face. The expression was grave. Staring soullessly into a void. Veering back into life as he felt your eyes connect with his. "Sorry, sir…" He apologized after a lengthy sigh. "Long day." He mumbled, straightening himself upwards. He took off his cap and raked his fingers through his hair before putting it back on. "I know it ain't much, but…"

"Jerry!" You call out over your shoulder, awaiting the familiar deep voice to respond back to you. "One burger with extra fries." And give him a smile. "Seat yourself." Nodding towards the booths behind him. "I'll be right with ya." And start collecting the coins into your hand. You knew it wouldn't cover the cost, far from it. But you'd rather have a customer then wait for this long evening to end. You'll make ends meet. A good deed wasn't misplaced once in a while. And as your father always said, it's better to give than receive. From the corner of your eye, you see the man seat himself. The far most booth in the corner, close to the window and holding his knapsack close. A sense of pity grew for the man as you saw him there. Head hanging low, gaze stuck to the table. Occasionally peering outside. His expression was impossible to read as his cap sat low and firm on his head. Hiding his eyes.

Arvin looked across the booth's plain white table, staring almost, with incomprehension on his face. He felt empty and alone. Traveling all this way without purpose. Only anger and rage. Angry at the world. At everything. His growling stomach was the only thing that kept him sane. At least there was one thing he accomplished. He wanted to be far away from that place he once called home. His thoughts drifted between Lenora and his grandparents. He couldn't let his guard down for a moment and kicked himself back into it. His eyes were almost trained to spot a police car from a mile away. It set him on edge since that day—even the sound of the sirens. A quick glance through the local newspaper revealed no article about the drama in his hometown. It was a momentary relief. But the question was, for how long?

"Here you go, sir." You announced as you approached, putting down a glass of coke in front of him. He looked up at you, staggered, to say the least. "So... where are ya from? Going by your accent, you're not from around here." You check the diner a second time around, ensuring no customer was going unattended before returning to the stranger. You stuff your hand in the pockets of your apron. Patiently awaiting his response.

"I'm not." He said somberly. Taking big swigs from the glass. "I'm from a place called Coal Creek. Somewhere close there."

"Hmmm, that's around Marlinton." You asked. "Somewhere in-between Summersville and Staunton?" You tried to recall the map in your mind as you thought long and hard. "I'm not sure..."

"You're about right…" He nodded, crossing his arms on the table. "You been there?"

"No. No, not me. But I can recall someone going there." You heard the place before, but it probably was a trucker or someone else who mentioned it. "But I'm not sure who it was." You shake your head and continue on. "Anyway, how was the drive?"

"I got a lift."

"Okay, and what brings you to the rural city? Work, family?" You asked. "Love?" Followed by a light chuckle, trying to lift the mood a little. In the background, the jukebox had stopped playing. Only the sound of the grill in the kitchen and the neon letters' sizzle outside took over its role. Even the old coffee machine was quiet now.

"I don't know...." He shrugged off your question.

The rough and uneasy response brought the ongoing conversation to an abrupt end. You didn't know how to respond to such an absent, short answer. Luckily you were saved by the bell. Jerry shoved the plate through the window towards the front. "Thank you, Jerry. Lookin' good as always." Giving him a thumbs up to show your gratitude as you take the warm plate. "Might as well lock everything up back there, Jerry. I think that's it for tonight." Following his confirmation, you bring the plate up to the table. Before you put the plate down, you take out a moist towel and wipe the table clean. "Look at that." You mumbled while cleaning the last bits of. "Much better." You pass him a knife and fork and follow up by placing the plate in front of him. "Enjoy your meal."

"Thank you, sir." He said, and began to eat immediately. With an eye on closing time, you begin to clean the bar and surrounding booths. Jerry had cleaned the kitchen and said his goodbyes before heading home. All the tables and benches needed a thorough cleaning, and if you managed now, you'd have spare time for other things tomorrow morning.

"You planning on going back to Coal Creek?" You asked while you cleaned the second last booth in front of him. From your position, you could only see the top part of his cap. He sure must have heard the question, as there was total silence across the diner. But the response took some time.

"No." He said resolutely, with a whiff of distraught emotion in his voice. "Never." You gaze up, finding yourself lost in the dark eyes peering from underneath his cap. The pupils functioned like little keyholes, allowing a small glimpse at the ferocity and anger boiling within him. A fire raging within him that you wouldn't want to know how to quench. "I ain't going back to place."

"Right... Well, that's clear." Something had happened in that town where this stranger came from. And he wasn't intent on sharing that with you. Not in this state. "There's plenty of work in the city." And continue on to the next booth while you try to keep him talking. In the past, you sure had more talkative guests at the end of the evening. "Just make sure you walk in the right people."

"What does that mean?"

"Well…You see-" With a sigh, you raise yourself up again from cleaning the booth. You've always tried to warn the newcomers around—especially the ones who were low on cash. "Certain neighborhoods here… have a wrong crowd. Tend to lure people in, you know, pray on the poor and lonely... with false promises and such. Ending up… bad."

"I don't fall for that." He scoffed and continued to eat his burger. "Don't you worry."

"Oh, I don't." You said, slightly sarcastic. "But it's easier said than done." And turn back behind the bar. Wiping the top of the bar down. Restock the last things. Making sure all the lights in the back were off. "Sometimes it makes you wonder if there's more bad than good on this planet.

"I know there is…" He muttered while he watched the world go by his window. "If there really was a God out there…" He spat, shaking his head. The man seemed distracted as if something was on his mind. The quiet was eerie, just to the two of you. He captured you in a way you couldn't describe, nor felt before. The headlight of passing cars illuminated his face. And you couldn't help but stare sometimes. Yet, the man didn't scare you. He remained unmoved in his spot while you worked your way around the place. Even when you turned the jukebox on again, trying to break the uneasy silence. You said your goodbyes to Jerry the cook again as he returned for his keys, and watched the streets go quietly darker and darker into the night.

"I understand you're closing." He said out of the blue, leaving his seat. Taking his jacket and knapsack with him. Halting in front of the bar where you were working. At least pretending to be working.

"A bit earlier than usual, yes." Wiping the bar down again, as he stood there. Watching you. "I got some pie leftover if you want." You offered, pointing at the stool. "Take a seat."

"No, I'm good." He replied with a grumble.

"Okay… Well, suit yourself." Drinking the last bit out your glass and continue your work on the cash register. "Have a good night, sir. And, please make sure the door is shut properly behind you."

But the man stood there, watching you work. And as you glanced back, he turned his eyes to the street. As if he searched deeply for a reason to stay inside. Not wanting to go outside. You know it didn't rain. You could see that. Yet, he remained in the same spot. Unmoved.

"I can wait." He offered, which took you by surprise. He didn't unsettle you in any way. But it was this kind of gesture you didn't expect. "Don't want you to be robbed by that… wrong crowd lurking the street." He looked over his shoulder, scanning the dimly lit streets while leaning against a table. "If... that's... alright with you?"

"Yeah…" You say and turn to confirm, catching each other's gaze. It's normal in any conversation. But this felt different. You felt drawn in by those brown eyes. Almost hypnotized. The moment of eye contact was longer than probably necessary. A smile slowly forming on your lips. "Of course." You nod and slowly return to your work. To your shock, you see your hands trembling ever so slightly as they hover over the numbers on your cash register. Not from the cold. That for sure. Because your hands feel clammy.

"Was that all your money?" You asked while you shut the door behind you. With the keys in your other hand, you lock the place up. Turning on your heel, standing there a few feet apart from each other. The streets weren't exactly busy at this hour. But there was always some movement. But the man stayed silent nonetheless. Perhaps hoping you would drop it. "By not answering, you're admitting it is."

"Yes..." He grumbled, annoyed. "Yes, it was." Avoiding your gaze as he stepped aside for a passerby.

"There are some cheap rooms, two blocks down that way." You pointed down the road. "Big motel. Can't miss it." Pulling out a couple dollars from your wallet.

"That's far more than I paid for the food." He said, too stubborn to take the money.

"That's not the point." You noted. "I don't want you to sleep in a cardboard box under a bridge. There's no need to." Holding the money up to him. "It's cheap, but at least you got a roof over your head, a warm bed, and a way to freshen up."

"You don't have to do this."

"I know." You nod. "Now take it." Reaching the money out to him again. "Or are you intend to find out who's the most stubborn of the two of us."

"I can just walk away." He chuckled. "You know that, right?"

"Promise me one thing." Taking another step closer to him.

"What is that?" He says, watching you with a challenging glint in his eyes.

"Tomorrow morning, be here at seven." Jabbing a finger over your shoulder. "Backdoor. I'll fix you breakfast." Forcing the money in his hand. "Got it?"

The man nodded as he stashed the bills away in his pocket. "And to who do I owe this promise?"

"(Y/N)."

If there was something to lie about, it could be his name. That's what coursed through Arvin's brain right now. After all this, should he be honest? Hadn't he already been up until now? A small inner conflict silenced him for a moment. But inside of him, the gears were turning. The name sat right with the person standing in front of him. And it made him feel… things….

For the first time, you caught a glimpse of what you thought to be a smile on the stranger's face. Short and sweet. It was a kind one. A genuine one. A smile that pleasantly cracked his stern features. So unexpected, yet so satisfying to witness. It suited him well.

But only seconds. As he bowed his head down, strolling his eyes across the pavement while fishing for a pack of cigarettes from his jacket. The cap hiding the expression. As if he was embarrassed to show his smile.

"I'm Arvin." He looked up, flashing his smile with confidence, stepping closer towards you. "I haven't thanked you (Y/N)." Offering you one of his last cigarettes. "The meal. And… this." Patting the bills in his pocket. "That's real kind of you." The smile said more than enough. Despite the stubbles across his face, the unshaven look, the long locks of brown hair protruding from underneath his cap, he had a certain charm. And it felt infectious. That ferocity from earlier had subsided. Making way for a heartwarming smile. "Thank you (Y/N)."

"No problem, Arvin." Pulling the collars up against the wind, but kindly refusing the cigarette. "I only drink." And return him a smile. "See you tomorrow morning."

He nodded as you saw the fire catch his cigarette. The orange glow shining across his features. There was this tensioned moment of eye contact before you exchanged a "Goodnight". Arvin watched you go as he ran his hand over his curled dark hair, smoothing it into place before putting the cap back on. A shuddered breath left his parted lips. He didn't understand what his body was experiencing. This feeling. He wanted to say something as he saw you walking away. But he couldn't. Nailed to the spot. Yet his legs were like jelly. So each went their own way. But not without their troubled minds.

- NEXT MORNING -

Still early in the morning, the cool breeze nipping at your skin, you tighten your coat around you. The streets were reasonably quiet. With your hands safely stowed away in your pockets, sheltered from the wind, you make your way down the street. The unmistakable form of the kiosk was one of the few places open so early. You pick up the newspaper while you exchange a few words with the older man behind the counter. It wasn't the smoothest of conversations. Undeniably, Arvin had been on your mind. Something about him made you look forward to seeing him again. With the newspaper under your arm, you continue. Therefore sleep didn't come easily last night. Twisting and turning in the sheets. What bothered you, you couldn't pinpoint exactly. But it had something to do with Arvin, you figured as much. The night was short as you woke up way before your alarm clock did go off—a terrible start to the day.

You turn into the alley leading to the backdoor. Not much movement this early in the morning. Your heart skips a beat as you are frozen on the spot. Seeing a figure hunched together beside the backdoor of the diner. The denim jacket and cap immediately gave away who it was. "Arvin?" You asked the obvious, slowly approaching. "Is...Is that you?"

A pair of tired eyes paired with furrowed brows shot up at you while you fish the keys from your pocket. His handsome face was lined, and eyes set deep into its sockets, riddled with sleep—a frustrated but tired gaze connected with yours. You can't help but notice the trembles shaking his frame as you come close. "Hey." He grumbled as the simple greeting came from his shuddering lips. The cold and fatigue certainly got a good grip on him.

"You're... early?" You said somewhat sarcastically. "Something happened?"

"R-Ran into some problems." He groaned, followed by a coughing fit that almost knocked his lungs out. "So I…eh slept here."

"Damn… Do I wanna know what happened?" Arvin's condescending stare said more than enough. The way he communicated through that stare—the eye contact. You knew enough. You shook your head in disbelief. "Well, c'mon." Extending him a hand to help him on his feet. "I'll get you started with something warm." A firm grasp takes your hand, but his fingers were cold through and through, followed by a gaze of threatening eyes. You caught it in a glimpse. It was more than enough. Just what you thought. The red of his knuckles, skin rough and stained with dried blood. Arvin had been in a fight of some sort.

"What?" He snorted in derision. Pulling back his hand from yours as he got onto his legs. His anger, sudden, and ferocious. There was a moment of thoughtful silence as he inched closer beside you. He was aware of what you saw. But wasn't going to admit it, nor tell you.

"Nothin…" You replied. Careful not to show your disappointment. "Let's head inside."

Arvin took a seat at the bar, with your jacket wrapped around him. Just to give some extra warmth. Eyes small and dim, an expression of defeat and a glare that had tiresome written all over it. His shoulders hung low, and his posture sat like a wreck on the stool.

"Did you even sleep?" Placing a big pot of tea beside him. He only answered by shaking his head, wrapping his hands around the mug. Life slowly returning to his pale-looking fingers. You let him sit in silence as you sip your morning coffee. Arvin's gaze stuck somewhere beyond the passing traffic. A thousand-yard stare. It sure was his trademark—so absent-minded, sulking on his own. Jaw locked and sucking on his teeth. You weren't a morning person either, but this was something else.

"Tidy up." You said while putting a warm moist cloth beside his hands. "You'll scare the customers."

"I don't follow." Came the grunted reply. Sipping on his steaming hot cup of tea. His reply almost sounded like a challenge, rather than this usual angry tone you got used to.

"The blood-" You nod to his knuckles. Looking all sore and red. "On your hands. You... need a bandage or...?" The response was none. He just looked at you. Sometimes a car caught his attention before looking back at you. You think to notice a small curvature on the corner of his lips. Making you a little unsure of what to do. "You okay, Arvin?"

"You'd like to know...?" He asked with a growing smirk, slowly tilting the cup to his lips. The smile now more prominent than before. "Wouldn't you…"

"Arvin…" You sighed and rolled your eyes. "It's more-"

"Goodmorning!" A voice called out in the back. Interrupting you mid-sentence. Making you jump a little. You hop over to Arvin and pull the jacket away from him, just in time as your father turned the corner. "Well, good morning to you too." He flashed a smile towards Arvin. "To what do we owe this pleasure?"

Before Arvin had said a word, you already interjected; rather smoothly, you had to admit. "This is Arvin." You introduced. "And we were just talking about the job…"

"Oh! Nice meeting you." Extending his hand towards Arvin. "I'm (YOUR DADS NAME)." Shaking his hand. "So you're here for the kitchen? That's good! Jerry will be delighted to hear that." Arvin watched you with big eyes as you continued to talk in on your dad. Desperate not to let Arvin ruin the hold thing. But for one, Arvin didn't follow at all. His mind was too hazy to process this much so early in the morning. After a few minutes of conversation, your dad turns to Arvin. "All sounds good. You got experience?"

"Well... ehm." He stammered somewhat inaudible. Nervously shielding his bruised knuckles with his other hand. "I…"

" You... mentioned… your gran-" Trying to put the words in his mouth, mimicking the words with your lips. But Arvin clearly wasn't following. A confused expression crawled on his face as you exchanged glances. "Grand--... M-

"-Grandmother… Yes." He said, finally catching on. "I… learned from my grandmother."

"Ah! Okay. Well, we don't serve that kind of food here." Your father bellowed in laughter. "But experience is best shown via practice. When you're ready, hop on in the kitchen and serve us some breakfast." Your dad says, pulling off his jacket. "Give us a call when you're ready." And turns to you. "I'll be upstairs, do some paperwork. How was yesterday?"

"Good, good. Nothing special. But listen…" Pushing him along towards the staircase in the back. Out of earreach of Arvin. "Arvin needs some living space. If he's good, which I think he really is, maybe he can sleep upstairs? One of the older rooms."

"I thought you were thinking about-"

"No, no, no… That can wait. I can wait. But what do you think?"

"Yeah, of course. We can make that work. If you think he's good. Go for it. But he better make us a good breakfast." He laughs and pats you on your shoulder, starting to scale the flight of stairs. "Call me when it's done." You let out a sigh of relief as you close the door behind you. A good start so far.

But dark clouds were gathering near the bar. You could see it in his eyes. Arvin's kind and smiling expression he faked in front of your dad. Those expressions had vanished, replaced by something of an animal's howl of outrage. "What did you just do?!" Arvin jumped off his stool, aggressively barged towards you. "You-"

"If you mean to ruin this for yourself-..." You cut him off. "-speak... louder."

"I didn't ask for any of this!" He hissed with his teeth clenched, like a wolf snarling at his prey. But surprisingly, in a lowered tone. Confronting you close up. His balled up fists threatening what came next.

"Then why are you whispering-...?" You grinned. "-Arvin?"

"You don't know what you're getting yourself into!" His breath ragged with the passion of his anger and fuelled rage, big brown eyes peered into yours. For a moment, you were afraid that he might do something to you. "Do you?!"

"No, but neither do you." You fired back at him. "Don't be mad at me. I'm merely giving you a chance."

"If I wanted that, I'd ask for it!" He snarled up close, the spittle almost flying across your face. "For ev-"

"Stay angry all you want." You said without letting him finish. "You can walk right out of the door if you want, or… you step into that kitchen and make something of it." You let the words sink in. Stepping past him, you turn around and pat his shoulder. "Think about it. It's a chance to start anew."

"I…" He sighed without finishing his sentence before even starting it. "You don't even know me."

"What's your point?"

"Why would you help me?!" He held his pose as he spoke, the dark brown intensity of his eyes never leaving yours. "Out of all the people that walk in here, why me?"

"It's simple." You toss the pen aside. Feeling the frustration of his misplaced mistrust starting to annoy you. "I just want to help you, Arvin. That's all." Your breath quickened for a moment as you stood there facing each other. Locked in one and other's gaze. "I… I felt…" But shake the thoughts from your mind. "I felt sorry for you."

"You shouldn't..." He mumbled, gazing into the distance. Locking his jaw as he mulled over your words. Trying to look tough. "I don't need someone else's pity." Throwing his knapsack over his shoulder. And starts heading for the door. "I'm a lost cause."

"Then what do you have left to lose? Nothing. Right?"

"I'm free to go wherever the fuck I want." He sneered, jabbing an angry finger against your chest. "Because you did something nice doesn't mean I have to repay you."

"That's not…" You sighed deeply, frustrated at his stubbornness. Seeing him walk away again. "Arvin… don't go."

"Oh shut up." He snarled, waving a dismissive hand.

"I'm sorry." You apologized. Ashamed of your comment earlier. "I shouldn't have said that. And, I… didn't mean it that way. It's… I haven't slept well and..."

"You and me both." He said. Leaving you a little bit surprised. A moment of silence filled the room. Upstairs you could hear your dad walking. For a moment, youre afraid he might have heard something. "I'm sorry too." He hung his head low. "I shouldn't have lashed out at you. You didn't deserve that."

"Will you at least think about, Arvin. I want you to know, my father has agreed on lending you a room upstairs." You said while averting your gaze, back to your work. "You can stay there for a while." And head towards the ledger spread out before on the counter. Arvin stood there, frozen on the spot. Hand on the door. Ready to leave. "Think about it, Arvin."

His eyes widened, the aggression in his expression sank away, replaced by guilt. "Are you… Are you serious?" He turned to you. "(Y/N)?"

"Yes, I believe in you. You just… need a little bit of help." You said. "Worst case, my dad laughs about it, and he'll teach you himself. He can't see the bad in people. He only wants to bring the best out of them."

"Runs in the family." He says with a small smile growing. You only catch it in a glimpse as you watch him turn around, walking towards one of the hanging aprons behind the bar. You watch him from the corner of your eye and can't help but smile. Fiddling with the apron and cleaning his hands. He seemed like a good lad. And you were happy he at least was giving it a shot. "Arvin." You called just before he entered the kitchen, mentioning him to come over. "Make the bacon extra crispy for my dad. You'll score extra points."

"I will." He smiled and nodded. "I will." And watch him enter the kitchen.

"And don't forget yourself." You add on while you try to focus on the numbers in front of you. But they didn't hold any interest to you. Opening hour was just around the corner, but this day had already gotten so much better. Your smile was hard to suppress. But why would you? A smile of happiness. Now it's up to him.

"(Y/N)" Arvin's voice came from behind you. Waking you from your derailed train of thought. As you turned around, you see him leaning on his forearms through the little serving counter. "When this turns out-"

"It will, Arvin." You immediately said with confidence, followed with a smile. "Trust me. It will."

"Okay." He chuckled softly. "Well...Do you… eh maybe want to get a drink sometime?" Asking with a slight nervousness to his voice. "No cigarettes." He added, a tender smile curving his lips. "I… also... still owe you for last night, so..."

"Now I have to make this work." You chuckle, rubbing the nape of your neck. Feeling a rush of heat shoot across your cheeks. "Sounds good, Arvin."

#arvin russell x reader #arvin russell x male reader #arvin russell x male!reader #arvin russell x you #Arvin Russell #arvin russell tom holland #male reader #male reader imagine #mlm #mxm #male!reader

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aikoiya · 2 years

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Idea For Underfell Frisk

You know, I’m pretty tired of seeing so many uber-pacifistic, child of innocence, could do no wrong Frisks. I’d like to see a female adult Fell!Frisk who’s tough as nails & doesn’t take shit, but is an all-around good & decent person. Someone that can fight, but who wouldn’t kill anyone unless it was absolutely necessary.

Like, maybe a Frisk that grew up in the hood, but then worked her way out of it & was living a really good life where she had a good job that she worked hard at & was treated fairly. Maybe she’s a cop or detective & she volunteers at an orphanage & the reason she was in the Underground was because she was chasing a knuckleheaded kid that made a run for it.

Now-a-days, I’m more into Friskby than before. So, maybe she really hits it off with the then Grimby, who I always hc’d that Fuku was his daughter. That the Child of Kindness, I call her Kindra Lockhart, was Grillby’s best friend as a teen & he even had a little bit of a crush on her. She helped to instill a love of food & cooking in him, then one day they were saving a monster stuck on a ledge, but afterwards, the cliff fell out from under Kindra & she fell to her death. Grillby tried to keep the local Guards from taking her soul, but was too young to do much of anything. That was the day his flames turned dark purple & he later changed his name to Grimby.

As a result, Grimby grew up bitter & resentful. Unable to continue living in Hotland anymore, he left for the furthest place from it besides the Ruins, Snowdin. There he opened up the bar & grill that he & Kindra planned to start together. He became depressed & it nearly got to the point where he fell down.

Anyway, he wasn’t taking care of himself, not particularly using up enough magic daily to keep him healthy, so his magic levels were getting too high. Now, when that happens to monsters, one of 2 things can take place. A) The most common thing is that they can get sick. B) Far less frequently, something happens to cause them to sort of asexually reproduce.

Now, in the case of B, it actually needs influence from the lingering soul of one’s dead soulmate. This is an unknown feature for monsters. So, they think it just happens randomly. In such cases, the child produced will only physically take after their living parent, while their soul will be half-&-half like normal.

In this case, the remnants of Kindra’s soul & consciousness saw that Grimby’s HoPe was low, but that his magic was inordinately high & gave part of herself to him in an attempt to give him something to live for. It attached to Grimby & he had Fuku. This is why she has green flames.

Green flames is when fire magic is fueled by kindness. They are the most stable magical flames out there & don’t go wild like other kinds of flames do. They don’t hurt unless the user wants it to & it only burns what they command. When used in cooking, even mundane recipes can heal. They are the best flames for cooking.

The moment she was born, Grimby knew that she was Kindra’s daughter, he could see it in her eyes & her mannerisms. He suddenly had a zest for life that he didn’t before & tried as hard as he could to raise her to be better than ‘kill or be killed.’ More, he teaches her how to fight & protect herself, but to avoid killing unless absolutely necessary. Necessary being if they try to kill her first & she can’t avoid doing so. Which, he’s a Boss Monster himself & is actually very powerful, his father having been a captain of the royal guard & taught him how to do the same except for the restraint part.

Fuku is the light of his life now.

Grimby sometimes mourns what could’ve been between him & Kindra, but he’s getting better. He doesn’t support the King’s ‘kill or be killed’ policy, but is unable to say anything for fear of being taken away & leaving Fuku alone.

Then, this lovely lady that reminds him of Kindra (when she’s not kicking ass & taking names) shows up & turns the entire Underground upside-down. They get along well & he gives her his number in case she needs his help. It isn’t until after the game when they get a chance to get to know each other.

#undertale #underfell #frisk #adult!frisk #fem!frisk #fell!frisk #fell!grillby #grimby #friskby

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guessimwritingficsagain · 4 years

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To be seen, part Three (Frankie Morales x Reader)

Summary : The birthday party comes and goes. You're pining but get a grim reminder that Frankie has a daughter (and a spouse ?). You want to take a step back from that blooming relationship but things don't go according to plan. You want to surprise Jessie with a nice present.

Author’s note : I rewrote this thing like 4 times but here we are. Just so we are clear, we are NOT about to have a lot triangle between OFC, Frankie, and random new character James. I just want OFC to have some wholesome relationships and to be her own person besides her new relationship with Frankie and the boys (which, btw, a writer, a friend of mine actually, told me "sometimes you write about what you can't have" and boy didn't that hurt because I'm currently in the process of grieving a friendship that could have been so good if not for the fact that we have very different ways of seeing friendship ... so I guess that James comes from that, a little). The former version had Frankie being more forward but I do like a slooooow burn and also it felt OOC.

Anyway,

the song Sweet is by Porridge Radio.

The song Canción sin Miedo is by Vivir Quintana.

The French radio that only plays women, trans and NB people is a real thing : it's called Radio Tempête and I like it very much. Give it a try !

There had been questions. Linda had grilled you hard and actually told you to go for it. It felt nice, all of it, up until you’d asked Linda why she was here. She'd grown sheepish.

« I need a new start. A change of pace. And I- I miss you, not, you know, like that, but I miss my friend, and I figured a new start with an old friend, that could be nice. »

You’d nodded, wondering if there was something she was not telling you, but figuring she’d get to it in her own time. In the meantime, she was here. And it was nice. She got along immediately with both Jessie and Anna and could make Phil laugh like no one else. Still, there were things that you couldn’t bring yourself to tell her. You two had a history, just like you had with Jessie and Anna, but not the same kind and five years was a long time not to see each other.

That’s why you waited until Linda was playing with Clara to tell Jessie, quietly :

« That fifth guy who used to hang out with the boys ? »

Jessie looked surprised. She was usually the one fishing for information. You knew why you were telling her that : to share the epiphany you had, to remind her, and yourself, that these men were real people. And maybe, just maybe, to remind her in a way that there was a real world out there.

« He’s dead. »

The air grew quiet at that. You looked at her face. She nodded, juste the once. And then, never brought the boys up the way she used to. She asked for news, once in a while, but never again in the giddy way she used to do it.

———

Right. So maybe, maybe, you’d gone a little overboard with that birthday party, but the kid had lost her father a year ago and she deserved nice things.

Right ?

They didn’t have to know the bar didn’t actually own fancy, festive plates and an army of balloons. Besides, everybody had pitched in. And Phil had made an extra nice menu. It’d been a team effort, really. Except that when Linda came in to grab a coffee after work - she was working at the local bookstore and that made your heart clench a little - she raised her eyebrows and said :

« You said seventeen, right ? Because I think you’re going for seven, here. »

So. You were a bit nervous, which, what the hell ?? They weren’t your friends. They were paying consumers. Except you were fooling yourself there because you were pretty sure that paying consumers didn’t quite cover it.

But when Santi came in with her, the girl swallowed by a huge scarf to protect her from November’s chilly air, you saw the smile on her face, you knew it’d been worth it. Santi actually came and hugged you and whispered « thank you, Starbuck » before giving Anna a high-five.

Yeah, the Starbuck thing had stuck. And you might have started calling Santiago Santi.

You were introduced to the birthday girl -Sarah- who was lovely and perhaps, you realized quickly, a tiny bit smitten with Anna, in a when-I-grow-up-I-wanna-be-her kind of way. Anna, of course, was completely oblivious. They sat down at the counter first, waiting for their friends to get here, her with a coke, him with a beer, and you were content to just let them be. It was a moment you felt was too private for your tentative relationship.

Sarah hugged Frankie as he came in and you did not let your mind wonder what it would feel like. Beers to serve. Mind out of the gutter. But he came to find you, and he looked at you with those soft eyes and he leaned in a bit and you couldn’t help but smile. And he smiled back, elbows on the counter, so close.

« You didn’t have to do all that. »

His voice was barely a whisper, and you answered the same way :

« I know. »

He was looking at you like he was seeing you and you got that warm feeling again, at the center of your belly. There was nothing, for a few seconds, except his brown eyes, until Anna cleared her throat and you were reminded you were at work. You turned back to get a beer for Frankie, but were interrupted again by a hand on your arm. Anna was looking at you and asked, as quietly as possible :

« What was that ? »

Her eyes were kind, there was no teasing in her voice but you shrugged the question off anyway. You didn’t know what that was. And it wasn’t the time nor the place.

———

The birthday party had been a success, and the night would have been perfect if not for Phil’s pragmatism. He knew you, he could tell, and your little admission a while back, when under the fire of Linda’s questioning that maybe you had a tiny little crush hadn’t fooled him.

Oh, the mortifying ordeal of being known.

He’d came up to you when you’d been cleaning the coffee machine and he’d said :

« He has a kid, you know that. »

He’d left it at that, knowing it was enough.

And that was just the thing, right : you knew. And with kids usually came a spouse. He probably had a lovely one, someone pretty and smart and funny and soft just like he was. So you’d decided to take some emotional distance, just to keep it professional. Paying costumers, after all.

Of course you were fooling yourself, you were protecting yourself from something that had the possibility to break you heart. And that, that was the worst part, the scary part, because you remembered vividly not thinking about Linda that way and then she’d said I like you, I really like you, you know, in a way that makes me want to make out with you. And you’d realized you liked her in a way that made you want to make out with her too. Back then the closet had been a thing, a hard one to get out of, even though your parents loved you unconditionally, no matter how many tattoos they disapproved of covered your body, no matter who you dated. You just hadn’t realized what you’d felt for her until she’d spelled it out for you. It’d been beautiful and simple and safe.

Here, though, you were thirsting on a man a tiny bit older than you, who had a daughter, who was probably married. And you’d been avoiding thinking about that, and he never mentioned anyone. But you knew you needed to get a grip on those spiraling feelings.

You needed to refocus, and in doing so, you realized something that filled you with shame and guilt : you’d overlooked Jessie entirely. The Christmas Holidays were coming up and you hadn’t made any plans with her. You’d been so caught up in your world that, for the first time in years, you forgot about her. The fact she worked day shifts and you night shifts now meant that you saw less of each other. And since Linda got here, and the boys were around more, and you didn’t need to babysit Clara as much, you’d seen even less of her.

But you had a plan.

———

The plan showed up on your doorstep a few days later, greeting you when you opened the door with :

« I hope you finally threw away that ugly couch and that the new one is comfortable. »

Here he stood, in all of his stupid glory : James. Their parents probably had a weird sense of humor to call their first born Jessie and their second one James. Or maybe you had a weird sense of humor for noticing it.

Here’s a bit of a backstory : James was your age, and you’d actually been friends since you were ten. Attached-to-the-hip kind of friends. I-don’t-care-about-anyone-else kind of friends. He used to be your only friend, back then, because he was just enough. Jessie, being five years older, had no real interest in you whatsoever so you only befriended her later, when her ass of an ex-husband skipped town and you got a panicked call from James one morning asking if you could help his sister to find a job because she used to be a stay-at-home mom and now she really needed the cash. James couldn’t come home to help her, so you’d had to help Jessie. Not that it’d been a problem.

And James, James was spectacular in the way he never settled for anything. He’d left home to go to Harvard and then became a bloody CIA agent because why not. Except he hadn’t liked that so he’d quit the bloody CIA and opened a restaurant in Washington. The President of the United States of America ate there, on a regular basis.

(Sometimes, when life got too hard and you got too caught up in your own mind, and you felt you weren’t enough, you wondered why a man like that bothered to skype you twice a month, and one time, drunk and alone on your birthday, you’d left him a voicemail asking him that very thing and he’d given you so much shit for that you never asked again. You were his girl, forever and always.)

So you’d called him, explained the whole Jessie thing, and the guilt that came with it.

Now there he was, ready to hide in your apartment while you got everything set to give your girl Jessie the surprise she deserved. You let Phil and Anna in on the secret that was James, just so he could come to the bar when he wanted and no one would tell Jessie about it.

That’s how you found yourself jumping slightly at the abrupt change of a song, one night at the bar, and you declared, knowing who it was :

« Costumers don’t get to change the music. »

The only answer you got was a laugh. You turned around to see James, bending over the counter to get to the computer, all crinkled eyes and white teeth.

« Don’t tell me you don’t like hearing Sweet. » He quipped.

« I like that song », you explained as you secretly rejoiced in hearing the familiar notes. « But that doesn’t mean you get to play anything you want. I know you, you get too comfortable. »

He sat down at the bar, a bit away from the boys who were joking and laughing at the counter. Benny had won his fight and got a girl’s number so it was a good night for him, the kind of night you didn’t want to intrude on. Except you wished you could, and that, that was a red flag in itself because usually, when James was around, there was nobody else in the world but you still thought about Frankie, about how you wished you were sitting on the other side of the counter, pressed against him, laughing at whatever it was that had been said. Paying consumers, right ?

You’d been serving beers left and right, only stopping a moment to get another round to the boys when you heard :

« Where the fuck is that French radio playlist ? You know, radio that only plays songs by women, trans and non-binary people ? I know you have one, can’t seem to find it. »

« James. »

You turned around. He was standing behind the counter.

« How on earth did you get there ? »

« I jumped. You were busy, didn’t see it. Anyway. That playlist ? There’s some good shit on that. Though we might want to avoid the songs too obviously sexual, right ? »

You let out the biggest sigh. Of course he'd jumped. Of course he’d find that absolutely normal. You waived him away and got to find the playlist.

« I wanna hear Canción sin Miedo. » He added, all but propped up on the counter.

« Get down. Also your accent is shit. » You hissed. You complied, though.

As the Mexican song started playing, Will gave you a look.

« That’s Jessie’s brother. » You explained, your voice still a touch exasperated.

« But that’s a secret. » James added, still very much sitting on the counter. He smiled and said : « Hi, I’m James. Like Bond. James Bond. Nobody ever saw the two of us in the same room, by the way. »

He winked and you ugly snorted.

———

The noise was overwhelming and the place reeked of beer and sweat but Anna was steering you gently through the crowd and Linda’s hand was grounding, on your shoulder. MMA fights were not your scene but Benny had asked and Anna had said yes before you could get a word in. You’d called Linda in a panic, muttering you know how I get in crowded spaces and she’d offered to come.

You still didn’t know how Anna managed to get your boss to give you both the day off for that but you were glad.

You heard Benny come in more than you saw him, and Anna guided you to the place where Santi, Frankie and Will were. Santi made a jab at Linda, who laughed it off and introduced herself at the others. She was blending in with ease, as always. You, though, felt lost, until you sensed someone right next to you. Lifting your head, you saw Frankie hand you a drink, before his hand came and gently grabbed your arm, guiding you to a sit right next to him.

« You okay ? » he asked in your ear, close enough that you could feel his breath, his hand still on your arm.

You explained right in his own ear :

« Crowed spaces. »

You felt his hand give a squeeze and, without thinking, tapped his thigh in a way you hoped would convey your thanks. Then, you held onto your drink for dear life, as Benny started beating the shit out of the other guy.

———

Benny was breaking down his fight, as the other men pitched in with a comment, once in a while. You hadn't exactly enjoyed the fight, but Frankie's presence and explanations had made the whole thing better. You drew the line, though, at debriefing, so you turned to Linda :

« So, how was your date ? »

« Nice. »

« Nice ? Just nice ? But she was bloody gorgeous. You showed me pictures ! »

You weren’t as quiet as you thought you were because next think you knew, Anna was leaning in, wiggling eyebrows, and the rest of the table grew awfully quiet. You turned to see all the eyes on you.

« Who was bloody gorgeous ? » Santi inquired.

« My date. »

Everybody was listening, now. You motioned her to go ahead.

« Well, her yoga lessons came in handy, if you know what I mean but … yeah … yoga. Pilates. Rabbit food. »

« Well, you still got her to do some yoga » you replied with a wink.

That got Anna to spit her drink.

« She was plenty good at that, but, yeah. »

She shrugged and too a sip of her beer.

« Wait, she ?»

So yeah, Santi hadn’t caught on the Linda’s a lesbian train yet. Though to be fair, he’d seen her once, twice counting tonight.

« Got a problem with that ? » Linda asked.

You felt the tension roll off of her and you couldn’t blame her. You never really knew how people were going to take your coming out, no matter how well you knew the person. And she didn’t know Santi at all.

He hurriedly shook his head.

« No, I just didn’t expect it, is all. »

He lit up, then, and you could almost see the bad idea that came to his mind.

(Maybe you were starting to know him after all.)

« I could be your wingman, and you my wingwoman. »

« No fucking way, Santiago. »

You laughed as you listened to Linda give a few more details, sweet Anna beaming in awe as the discussion went to Linda’s great adventures in dating.

« So, you’re a serial dater. » the younger woman exclaimed.

« She was never good at settling » you confirmed.

Linda turned to you and, with mock outrage, asked :

« Never good at settling ? Do those two years with you mean nothing ? »

You laughed and she laughed and Anna laughed and Benny all but shrieked :

« You two dated ??? »

That only made your belly clench even more, the laughter an unstoppable force, Linda warm by your side, Anna crying from laughter, Santi and his existential crisis because he’d hit on a lesbian and suddenly everything made sense because nobody said no to Santiago - at least that was what your were feeling he was thinking. And Benny, just confused, said :

« I didn’t know you swung that way. »

The sentence was meant for you, you knew that, but before you could calm down, another voice, one you’d recognize anywhere, anytime, answered for you :

« Oh, she swings every fucking way, right, baby ? »

You turned around sharply and there he was, again, James. Right on time. He settled right next to you, his warmth a comforting presence. You swallowed the anxiety down. Everything would be alright.

And everything was.

Because fifteen minutes later, Jessie was coming in, Clara in her arms, wondering what the emergency Phil called about was. You would forever remember the look on her face when she saw her brother sitting right there. The blinding smile, the way James took Clara in his arms and cooed.

It was going to be a good night (again).

———

« That was real nice of you », Frankie mumbled. « What you did back there, with Jessie and her bother. »

You’d stepped out to have a smoke and he’d joined you, hands in pockets, just standing there, not close enough to touch you but close enough that you could feel him.

« You two seem close », he stated after a bit.

That wasn’t jealousy. That you could tell.

« He’s my best friend, I guess. »

« He seems nice », Frankie stated. « A bit over the top but then again, I’m friends with Pope so … »

You had a flashback, then, of your first encounter with Benny, and asked :

« What’s with the nicknames anyway ? »

« We served … » Frankie started. You cut him off.

« Yeah, I know, but. What does it mean ? »

Frankie just smiled, then, took a step closer to you, shoulders brushing. You felt hot, all of a sudden.

« A callsign is trust » he explained and then quietly added :

« Starbuck »

You managed to keep it together. You kept it together because paying consumers. You kept it together because that man had a daughter and was probably married and what he’d just said was said out of friendliness.

#frankie morales x reader #Frankie morales #francisco catfish morales #francisco 'catfish' morales #francisco 'catfish' Morales x reader #triple frontier

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safetyhaxard · 3 years

Text

Do You Know Your Neighbors?

It was only midday, but the sun’s inescapable heat and glaring rays had already made the diner unbearable. It usually got hot around one or two, but today was supposed to be one of the hottest of the year. The Cook had a bandana tied around his forehead in a pathetic attempt to keep the sweat out of his eyes, but the waitresses had no choice but to wipe their foreheads with a spare napkin when they got the chance.

Well, it’s not like they didn’t have a lot of chances. At this time of year, most of the locals were out on vacation at the beach or a week-long tropical cruise. Sylvia was jealous of those who could go – her boss rarely let them take sick days, let alone vacations. Even when the tables were empty for hours, the bell on the door didn’t chime, and Cook stepped away from the grill because he had nothing to do. It was weird yet normal for the only cars in the lot to be Cook’s old Mustang that still shone like it was new and Sylvia’s beat up Ford. They’d listen to the second hand of the clock tick, the sound echoing against the linoleum, just to pass the time.

She didn’t know if the constant tick, tick, tick was better or worse than silence.

Jolene smiled weakly at her, noticing Sylvia’s blank stare and thinking she needed something (really, Sylvia had just been zoned out, feeling like she’d been in a trance from the hypnotic sound of the clock). “Sorry you gotta be here, hun. It’s just as dead as usual.”

“It’s fine,” Sylvia murmured. “It’s not your fault Boss thinks he’s God or something and needs to keep us in prison.”

Jolene chuckled at that – in the way someone laughs at you when they don’t find the joke all that funny. “God or summ’,” she repeated to herself, turning away to wipe some imagined dust off the counter.

Sylvia found herself watching as Jolene moved around the stools and bar. The latter was a curvy woman, probably what some would’ve called a ‘southern belle’ in her youth. Two kids and a husband who worked long hours wore her down, though, and her job was her only escape from that monotony. She often looked older than she was with the dark circles that colored under her eyes and the wrinkles forming around her lips. Despite that, she was almost certainly the peppiest member of the staff and subsequently got the best tips.

The bell chiming pulled her from her thoughts, and both waitresses turned toward the door, eyes flashing with curiosity and eyebrows raising in surprise.

A man stood next to the first booth, hands tucked into the back pockets of his jeans. He looked boyish, but he towered over Sylvia by at least a foot, thin and willowy. His blonde hair fell into his eyes, and it looked frizzy enough to indicate he probably had kept brushing it away and then given up. Once he noticed Sylvia’s eyes on him, he gave her a crooked grin and a little wave before tucking his hand back in his pocket.

“Can I help you?” Sylvia asked, putting on a bright smile and grabbing a menu from the counter. “We ain’t had many customers today, so we’ll have to brew a fresh pot of coffee if you’d like a cup.”

The man gave another toothy grin that stretched a bit too wide. “Aw, no ma’am, that’s alright. I’ll just take a water, please.”

“Comin’ right up. You can sit anywhere you’d like to, hun. We’re dead as can be.” Something about his smile had been off putting, sending a chill down her arms, but she kept up the cheery demeanor. Just ‘cause you don’t like him grinning like that don’t mean you slip up, Sylvie, she thought to herself.

“Thank you very much,” he answered, sweeping around to perch in the booth closest to the door.

Jolene had come back out from the kitchen where she’d been with Cook to see who Sylvia was speaking to. “Good mornin’ to you. What’s a young fella like you doing out here in the middle of nowhere?” Always the charmer, she could use that to snoop into everybody’s business when they came in – quite a talent, really. It made her a good gossip, which had both its perks and drawbacks for those she spoke to.

“Just passing through, ma’am.”

“Oh, no need for that. Just call me Jo.” She laid down a set of silverware and a handful of napkins, glancing up as Sylvia came back with a glass of ice water. “Got business in town?”

The man looked out the window, a not-quite-a-smile flashing across his lips. “You could say that.”

Jolene didn’t seem to notice his face. “Well, hun, a man like you’s gotta need a hearty meal, right? We’ve got a nice bacon cheeseburger meal, but if you’re looking for breakfast, I’m sure Cook wouldn’t mind grilling up some eggs for ya. What’s your name, hunny?”

“Randall Harrison, ma’am. That cheeseburger sounds real nice.” He ran a hand through his hair, most of it staying back but a few strands falling back into his face.

“You got it, hun. Jus’ yell if you need anything else.”

Sylvia followed Jolene back to the kitchen, the latter giving the ticket to Cook. “Don’t you think he’s a little young to be havin’ business? It’s a small town anyways, nobody wants to go there. Especially not this time of year.”

Jolene gave a chortle and nudged the younger woman with her shoulder. “Now don’t go all detective-y on the poor man.”

“It’s just a little weird to me,” she defended.

Jolene arched a brow at her. “Weird for somebody to wanna grab a bite in this heat?”

“I’m just saying—“

“For the love of all things holy, don’t go bugging ‘im.”

Sylvia stared at Jolene for a moment, waiting to see if she’d cave at all. When she didn’t, Sylvia finally answered, “Fine, I’ll leave it be.”

The pair looked over at Randall, who was now doodling on a napkin with a pen — who knows where he got the red ballpoint. His brow was furrowed in concentration as he glared down at his work.

“Go keep him company,” Jolene commanded. “He came out here lookin’ for a meal, not to be lonely.”

“Yes’m,” Sylvia grumbled in resignation, walking back to the booth.

Randall looked up as she approached. “What time is it?”

“Oh, it’s—“ a look toward the clock, the second hand still tick, tick, ticking— “11:36, hun. Somethin’ you’re waiting for?”

“Just a few more minutes, then.” He caught Sylvia’s eyes and grinned, but this time, the boyishness had disappeared from his face. The warmth of his smile didn’t reach his eyes, feeling forced and icy cold. A blink, and the look was gone, and he was back to doodling.

She swallowed, mouth suddenly dry. “What kind of business do you got in town?”

“Why’s it matter?” he asked her.

She shrugged, trying to be nonchalant. “Curiosity, I s’pose?”

He didn’t bother to look back up at her as he scribbled faster. “The important kind.”

“What does that mean?”

A deathly moment of silence ensued as he stared at her. It was a chilling kind of stare, the sort that makes somebody feel more like a mouse in an owl’s claws than a person. There was a knowing gleam to his eye, and though she was certain he couldn’t have heard the conversation from here, Sylvia felt that he knew what she’d said back in the kitchen. “You’re a bright girl, Sylvia,” Randall responded at last. “You’re suspicious of me, right? But your ditzy coworker there isn’t. Your cook probably isn’t, either. You wanna know why?”

Sylvia threw a look over her shoulder and searched for Jolene, wondering why the man’s food wasn’t out here already. Having someone out here, maybe he wouldn’t be saying such strange things. No dice, though — she couldn’t even hear her coworkers speaking to each other.

“Do you want to know why?” he asked again, more insistent.

“Yes?” she stuttered, hesitating before meeting his gaze once more.

He smirked. “Check what time it is again.”

“11:36.” Wait, still?

“Something about that doesn’t feel natural, does it?”

She jerked up from the seat, an invisible weight settling on her chest. “No, the clock is just… It’s just broken.”

“It always ticks. How else do you pass the time but to listen? This is the first time it’s been silent, isn’t it, Sylvia? Is the silence nice?” Randall taunted.

The waitress shook her head. “No, it has to be broken. That’s all.” I don’t care how weird it is, the clock is just broken. That’s how things go, they break. It’s not its fault for bad timing. It’s just a coincidence.

He stood up to face her, his height so much more than hers, making her feel scared and small and insignificant. “What more proof do you need? Do you want the sun to go dark? Locusts to swarm the windows? Do you want me to turn the water in the faucets to blood? Would you rather that I don red horns and fiery robes to prove to you who I am?”

A look at her hands showed her how badly she was shaking, tears welling up behind her eyes and knees shuddering against each other. “You’re insane. Demons don’t really exist, you’re just a person.”

Randall leaned in, an icy cool hand roughly grabbing her chin to yank her gaze to meet his. “You poor thing, telling yourself lies to make yourself feel better.”

“If you’re really a demon, why are you here?”

“To deliver justice.” His eyes seemed to flash red, and though Sylvia didn’t believe him, she didn’t think that she imagined the shift in color. “Do you know how awful the people in that small little town next door are? Liars, thieves, whores, murderers. The whole bunch of them. Men taking advantage of women for fun, teens getting high on the strong stuff, people in power begging for cash they don’t need, spouses with double lives. Why that town attracts those folks, I can’t say, but it does. A little haven where no one looks twice and everyone pretends they know nothing. I think it’s time that the lot finds out what karma waits for them, don’t you think?”

She was frozen in her slip ons, but Sylvia managed to gasp, “You’re lying to me. I know my neighbors, and none of them are what you’re saying.”

“Then you don’t really know them, girl. You’re one of the few innocents, but even Jolene and Cook aren’t. Have you ever met Jolene’s husband? She killed him last year in a rage before burying his body in the backyard. Have you wondered how Cook has such a nice house on the salary this place has? His brother is a drug lord, and in return for recommending his brother to any drug addict he comes across, he gets a good cut of it. Even your boss is an asshole - working you to death and further, all so he can take the profits and pay you barely enough to survive.” He finally released her chin, pushing her into a chair and just watching as she landed on its seat. “You’re blind to it all, but it’s time you figured it out.”

Sylvia watched as the man stalked back to where Jolene and Cook were, as she found herself glued to the chair and unable to even call out their names. Through the order window, she could finally see them, frozen in place by the stove mid conversation. Jolene’s mouth was open in what looked like a laugh, and Cook had a spatula still grasped in his palm as he went to flip a burger.

Randall reached them and reached a hand towards each, the air suddenly static around him. Two fingers touched both Cook’s and Jolene’s foreheads, and it was like the light and life was sucked from them. Both went limp but still stood, their eyes losing their shine and falling shut. Their skin dulled and hair lost its volume as Randall drew his hands away.

Finally, Sylvia was able to find her words, air rushing down her throat as if her chest was a vacuum. “What the fuck?” she yelled.

He quickly returned to her, standing solemnly over her. “I’m sparing you, Sylvia. You’ll find a good amount of cash in your accounts, and no one will ask questions. You go find somewhere else to be and a better job. Forget about this place and this day, and you’ll be just fine. Don’t do anything wrong, and you’ll never see me again.”

“Did you just kill them?!”

“I’m not going to kill you, so does it matter?”

“You killed them!”

Randall glared at her before turning towards the door. “Take my advice, Sylvia. You’re a smart girl. Do better.”

Her body shook so hard that the chair legs were clacking against the linoleum floor. “You just fucking killed my friends in front of me!”

With a sigh, he turned back around and touched two fingers to Sylvia’s forehead. The air was crackling again with static but subtler. “This isn’t your death. I keep my promises. You just need to relax and think straight.”

Her vision began to swim, then go dark. She swayed sideways before falling to the floor with a crack. Pain lanced through her head, a small cry leaking from her throat. She refused to succumb to the darkness, though, and kept her eyes trained on Randall’s figure moving towards the door.

What she didn’t expect, just as the darkness consumed her — horns seemed to sprout from his head and curl around his ears, bat-like wings sprung from his shoulder blades, and fire outlined each step as he lifted his foot from the floor.

He isn’t a demon, is he — he’s the Devil himself.

The door slammed behind him, and finally the clock began to tick, tick, tick again.

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mortimer-writes-sometimes · 4 years

Text

A Warm Feeling, Chapter Three

Chapter Three: Grillby Has Bad Days, Too

Read this on Archive of Our Own and Wattpad!

Summary: What's this? A role reversal? Grillby has been busy and struggling to run his bar single-handedly, and it pushes him past his limit. Luckily, Sans is there for him. Warnings for this chapter: Passing out, neglecting one's health Word Count: 3188

Sans laid back on his mattress with a groan. Two weeks. It had been two whole weeks since the reset, and Frisk was still in the Ruins. He was starting to wonder if they were doing it on purpose, just to mess with him. Every day, Sans went out to his post and watched, waiting for that giant door at the end of the road to open. It occurred to him that he was actually doing his job for once. His sentry reports had never been more detailed, and Papyrus was pretty proud of him for it. He didn’t even give Sans a hard time about sleeping in anymore.

When Sans opened his eyes again, the clock on his phone said it was just a little bit past five. Usually Sans would go back to sleep, waiting until about seven before going to Grillby’s and spending the rest of the evening there. The dinner rush picked up around five, and Sans didn’t usually like crowds, but then again he would take social anxiety over all-my-loved-ones-are-going-to-die-again anxiety any day. Sitting alone with his thoughts was only going to make him spiral again. So, with that, he stuffed the jacket under his mattress and got up, putting on his slippers and heading out into the snow. Somehow, looking at the restaurant down the street, he barely felt the cold at all.

Grillby rushed to keep up with orders as the dinner rush reached its peak. It had been a very, very busy day. He really couldn’t complain- business was business- but it had just been unusually hard on the bartender that day. Sans would probably say I’m ‘burned out’, Grillby thought to himself, smiling ever so slightly at the thought. If there was one thing he would be able to look forward to that evening, it would be seeing his favorite customer. Seeing Sans was always the high point of Grillby’s day. The skeleton was kind and funny, and he always seemed to know exactly how to put Grillby at ease. The bartender shook himself from his thoughts at the sound of the door opening again, bracing himself for another wave of orders and demands. Surprise and relief washed over him when he saw a familiar blue jacket in the doorway, looking around for a seat. The bar itself was unfortunately full, but Sans managed to find a table in the corner that was empty, sitting down and glancing over the drink menu as if he didn’t already have it memorized.

Grillby wanted nothing more than to walk over and say hello. Maybe he would sit with Sans, ignoring the rest of his customers as he vented about the awful day he’d had. However, that was nothing more than wishful thinking. One of the customers at the bar got his attention, asking for another order of fries and a drink. Of course, Grillby was quick to deliver, running to the kitchen to start the food before coming back out to mix drinks.

Now Grillby was aware that there were establishments in the capital that didn’t care how much their patrons drank so long as they could pay for it, but Grillby was more responsible than that. When a particularly intoxicated seahorse monster at the bar demanded another highly alcoholic cocktail, Grillby offered him a virgin drink instead, arching an eyebrow as he cut him off for the evening. “I’d offer you a glass of water, but I don’t go near the stuff. I think you’ve had enough for the evening.”

The monster scoffed, irritated. “What kind of B-S is that? I know how much I can handle, I’m nowhere near wasted. Just gimme another drink and mind your own damn business.”

Grillby shook his head. “I said, you’ve had enough,” he said firmly. “If you would like to order a non-alcoholic drink instead I would be happy to prepare it for you.”

The monster stood with his hands on the bar, yelling, “Do you have any idea who I am?!”

And here they went again. Grillby got this sort of thing all the time when they were busy. “Sir, please, there’s no reason to shout…” God, he had a headache. Couldn’t his customers give him one easy night? There were two other monsters trying to get his attention to order drinks, apparently either unaware or uncaring that Grillby was in the middle of something. “I’m afraid I have other customers to attend to-”

The seahorse monster cut him off. “I am a loyal customer and I have never caused you any trouble before, and this is how you treat me?? Not cool, dude. You’re gonna lose my business if you keep up with this attitude. What happened to the customer is always right? You know I’ve never said anything before, but your service is so damn slow, and your food sucks. I can barely even drink these shitty excuses for drinks, I’m only here because I want to support local businesses, but with your attitude-”

Ding! You’re blue now!

The seahorse monster suddenly found himself being lifted off with his stool with a yelp, unceremoniously dropped to the floor. Sans took his place at the bar, a casual grin on his face. “Hey Grillbz, looks like it’s busy. This guy causing you trouble?”

Grillby could have cried in relief. “No,” he remarked casually, “He was just leaving.” He made eye contact with the monster, irritated. ��And I believe we had just reached an agreement that he will not be coming back.” With that, he gave Sans a thankful look before rushing to take care of the customers that had been waiting on him.

The bartender was pretty sure he wouldn’t have made it through the evening with his sanity intact if Sans weren’t there. Every time an irate customer started to get an attitude with Grillby, Sans would interrupt, either drawing Grillby away from the situation or diffusing the situation with a joke and a smile. The rush had started dying down by six-thirty, and the bartender finally had a moment to just… breathe.

Sans looked up from his phone when a burger and a bottle of ketchup were set in front of him, the food fresh off the grill and the bottle filled to the top. Grillby adjusted his glasses, leaning against the bar with a sigh. “Sorry it took so long to get out to you,” he mumbled. “Busy night.”

“Yeah, no kidding,” Sans responded with a chuckle. “There was a line out the door when I got here.”

“Really?” Grillby looked out the window, relieved to see that was no longer the case. “I hadn’t even noticed. I really need to hire some waiting staff. I’ve put out a help wanted ad a few times, but no one qualified has ever responded…” He took off his glasses and rubbed his forehead, trying to will away the headache he’d had ever since the dinner rush.

Sans tilted his head, a little worried. “Hey, well, now you can relax for the evening, right?”

Grillby groaned. “As much as I would like that, I still have customers, Sans.”

Sans looked around, then shrugged. “They’re all regulars, I’m sure they wouldn’t mind if you closed an hour or two early. I mean, if I’m being honest… You… don’t look so good. It’s been kinda a rough week. You should take care of yourself before you get too burned out, heh.”

Grillby found himself chuckling despite himself. “I knew you would make that joke,” he mumbled. He looked around the bar for a moment. It was true, that he only had regulars in this late, and they were all fairly good and understanding patrons. Even if they weren’t all the most understanding monsters, his headache just… would not go away. “For the record, if I concede and close up early, I would like it to be known that I’m doing this for your benefit. You worry too much.”

“Heh, sure, Grillbz. I’ll help you round everyone up and get them out of here,” Sans offered, getting up out of his chair. He couldn’t help glancing at Grillby every now and then, an uneasiness settling in his chest as he watched the bartender periodically take off his glasses and rub his eyes.

Sans decided not to mention that for the first time, his burger had been undercooked.

Grillby sat down at one of his booths and sighed, putting his head down on the table. He’d finished cleaning up, and Sans had been kind enough to put up the barstools and chairs for him. He felt more than heard his friend sit next to him, the hand that came up to rub his back a welcome presence of comfort. Sans fidgeted with his hoodie zipper with his free hand, even more worried than before. He’d never seen Grillby like this, but… it couldn’t have been the first time, could it? Since the evening Grillby had carried Sans home, the two had been a little bit closer. It was possible that the bartender had just started feeling comfortable being more vulnerable with him, but Sans still felt like he should have noticed this sort of thing before. Why didn’t it occur to him that Grillby had his own bad days? Grillbz was always looking out for him, taking care of him, and giving him a safe space. When had Sans last returned the favor? Some friend he was…

“I know what you’re thinking, Sans,” Grillby said quietly. “Yes, I have bad days, but days as severe as this are rare. I’ve never asked for help or mentioned it before. There’s no way you could have done anything about it.”

Sans huffed, relaxing a little bit and rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “How come you can read me like a book like that? You’re not even looking at me.”

“You were thinking loudly,” Grillby responded sarcastically. “Honestly, you spend nearly every evening at my bar. You’d think that I’d know you pretty well.”

“I guess that makes sense,” Sans conceded. The two fell into a comfortable silence, Sans continuing to rub Grillby’s back while the bartender took a moment to let himself wind down. He pushed down a bit between Grillby’s shoulder blades, eliciting a soft groan from the monster.

“Ow…” Grillby hadn’t realized just how sore he was until Sans did that. He had all kinds of knots in his shoulders. His back and his feet ached. He was going to feel awful when he got up the next morning.

As the dull ache spread through him, Sans pressed down again, digging in his palm a bit and starting to work out one of the worst knots. “Damn, Grillbz,” he mumbled under his breath. “When was the last time you stretched. Here, turn around.” He guided Grillby into sitting so that his back was facing Sans. The skeleton reached up, starting at the bartender’s neck as he began massaging out the tension there and loosening up the sore muscles. He was surprisingly good at it, drawing another out a soft sigh from the fire monster.

“Sans,” Grillby breathed out, “You don’t have to.”

Sans chuckled a bit. “I want to. Would it make you feel better if I charged you for it? Just take it off my tab.”

Grillby rolled his eyes, caving. “Fine… thank you.”

The worried unease slowly left Sans at that, replaced by a fond warmth. “Hey, don’t mention it. Let me take care of you for once.”

Later that evening, as Sans and Grillby parted ways, Sans found himself having some… interesting thoughts about the bartender as he watched him walk away. He would be lying if he said that he hadn’t been a bit flustered by some of the soft sighs and groans that had slipped past Grillby’s lips as Sans gave him the massage. He didn’t expect Grillby to be so vocal.

The thought made the skeleton’s throat go dry and he shook himself, turning and walking back towards home. He hadn’t missed the way Grillby was blushing when he sat back up, quietly thanking Sans and mumbling that he felt much better. Come to think of it, Sans had seen Grillby’s blush a lot more often lately. Some sort of line had been well and truly stepped over when Grillby took Sans home, spending the night with him to make sure he wasn’t alone with his nightmares. Not much had really changed between the two of them, but every so often they shared a tender, vulnerable moment that reached a little bit deeper than other interactions. It was undeniable that they’d gotten closer, but…

Closer how?

Sans reached the front door, but decided to take a short cut to his room. He didn’t really feel like facing Papyrus’s questions as to why he was home earlier than usual right then. He’d managed to stop worrying his brother so much recently. He’d actually been getting a decent amount of rest the past few days. His nightmares had been a lot milder, still waking him up but not hanging around long enough to keep him from dozing back off pretty quickly.

He refused to acknowledge that it had anything to do with the black jacket that wasn’t his he’d been sleeping in every night. Surely it had nothing to do with the weight of the fabric and the comforting, familiar smell of smoke.

Sans wasn’t sure what woke him up early. Maybe Papyrus singing in the shower? Usually he slept through that noise but… eh, whatever. The skeleton sat up and stretched, Grillby’s jacket shifting around his shoulders. He pulled it off and gently inspected it for a moment, remembering the night before. Maybe… Maybe since he was up early anyway, he could go ahead and check on him. The bar opened pretty early for breakfast, but walking past with Papyrus each morning, it never looked particularly busy. The skeleton shrugged off the jacket and stuffed it under his mattress, semi-reluctantly exchanging it for his regular blue one. He made sure to leave a note for Papyrus on his door letting him know that he left early before heading out to check in with his friend.

The first thing Sans noticed was that there weren’t any lights on inside the bar. Usually he could see the glow of the windows and the light they casted out on the snow from a distance, but the restaurant was totally dark. Sans pulled out his phone and checked the time again. Seven thirty-eight. Grillby’s should’ve definitely been open.

The second thing he noticed was the sign in the window. It was one of those plastic signs that said ‘OPEN’ on one side and ‘CLOSED’ on the other, hanging from a suction-cup hook. It was flipped to ‘OPEN’. Sans distinctly remembered Grillby flipping it to ‘CLOSED’ the night before, but the place certainly didn’t look open. Had Grillby come in, then changed his mind and taken the morning off? And just forgotten to change the sign back?

Sans was starting to get a bad feeling. After a moment, he slowly walked up to the door and turned the doorknob.

Unlocked.

Grillby never forgot to lock the door.

That was all the evidence Sans needed to conclude something was definitely wrong. He stepped inside, closing the door behind him. “Grillbz? Hey, you in?” Was the power out or something…? He looked around, eyes drawn to the open kitchen door. There was a flickering light coming from inside the kitchen that hadn’t been visible through the front window. A flickering light…

Dread seeped into Sans’s soul as he found himself jogging towards the kitchen. “Grillby?!” He called out worriedly. “Hey, what’s going…” Sans stopped short, eyes wide as he located his best friend.

Grillby was laying on the floor in the middle of the kitchen, a batch of burger buns scattered across the floor around a pan sitting on the ground nearby. It didn’t take long for Sans to figure out what had happened, rushing over to his friend and kneeling next to him. “Grillby! Hey, come on, wake up. Shit, Grillbz, wake up!” What did he do?! He couldn’t exactly pour water on his face! He shook the bartender slightly, on the edge of panic. He fought back tears of relief when Grillby’s eyes fluttered open.

Grillby shifted and winced, a hand coming up to his head. “Ngh… Sans…?”

“Y-yeah,” Sans managed to stammer. “Hey, don’t move around too much. What hurts?”

Grillby took longer to answer than Sans would like. “Head, back, knees,” the bartender finally mumbled, closing his eyes again. “What… What happened?”

“You fucking passed out is what happened,” Sans choked out through a tense, humorless laugh. “I thought you had Fallen Down or something. You scared the shit out of me.”

Grillby opened his eyes again, looking up at Sans. He reached out with a shaky hand to cup the skeleton’s cheek, steam sizzling into the air as he wiped away a single stray tear. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled quietly.

“No,” Sans said quickly. “Don’t you fucking dare apologize. Don’t you dare apologize for getting hurt or- or sick or whatever caused this. It isn’t your fault.” He took a deep breath, trying to calm down. Grillby was going to be alright, he knew that much. He’d make sure of it. “Can you sit up slowly for me?”

With Sans’s help, Grillby gradually got up to a sitting position, then after a few moments of sitting, slowly eased his way into standing. He swayed on his feet when he was upright, so Sans carefully helped him out to a booth in the dining room, making him lay down again as he went to lock the door and flip the sign back over. No way was Grillby working in that condition. “Grillbz, when was the last time you ate?”

“Um…” Grillby frowned, thinking about it. After a long moment of silence, Sans shook his head.

“Okay, the fact that you have to think about it that long is bad enough,” Sans said tensely. “It… It wasn’t that day when we ate lunch together, was it? Grillbz, that was five days ago. I know it’s been busy but holy shit, G!” He took another deep breath. Now wasn’t the time to be lecturing about self-care (especially since Sans was the last person to be talking to about it). “Alright, we need to get you something to eat. Papyrus should be out at his post by now, so I’m gonna bring you over to my house to rest. You’re taking a day off.”

If anything, Sans was made more concerned by the fact that Grillby didn’t protest. He helped his friend back up, debating on whether or not to take a shortcut before deciding that might be too much for the bartender to handle.

Grillby did his best to maintain his balance, groaning as his head throbbed from the motion. “I… f-feel like shit…”

Sans relaxed a bit, chuckling tensely. At least Grillby was aware enough to sound like himself again. “Yeah, I’m sure. Don’t worry, Grillbz, I’ll take care of ya.”

Thanks for reading this chapter! If you want, you can also read this on Archive of Our Own and Wattpad. If you like my writing, consider reblogging so that more people can see it, and leave a comment to tell me what your favorite part was! I'm aiming to have the next chapter out next week, so keep an eye out for it. Let me know if you want to be added to my tag list for A Warm Feeling!

#undertale #sans #grillby #sans x grillby #sansby #angst #fluff #hurt/comfort #fanfic #fanfiction #undertale fic #undertale fanfiction #my writing #writing #dusty writes #a warm feeling #dusty a warm feeling

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talkfastromance4 · 4 years

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Sundress Seductress// Luke Hemmings

Twin @spicycal and I bounced this idea back and forth and we had to write it! We’re so excited to share it with you all! Check hers out here but to clarify this is not a Cake fic! You’ll see why ;)

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: smut, slight voyeurism, slight praise kink, unprotected sex (always be safe!)

Masterlist

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. *copyright is listed at end*

Enjoy! :)

• • • •

Since you first met Luke, there was no denying the attraction you both shared for each other. He was the first amongst the guys to catch your eye. His tall frame, broad shoulders, blond curls and sky blue eyes made your heart flutter. While he caught your attention, Calum caught the eye of your best friend.

The first few times you all hung out, you felt like a fool and acted like one around Luke. You stammered over your words a lot because you got lost in his eyes and his intimidating stature even though his personality was that of a golden retriever puppy. You swooned every time.

As time went on and you got closer and more comfortable, you began to tease each other light heartedly. You’d call him a tree and he’d call you munchkin because of how small you are compared to him. He’d come up behind you and rest his forearm on your head because you’re the “perfect height for an armrest.” And he’d smirk and you’d pretend to be offended but secretly you loved it each time he did it.

Your flirtationship grew and grew, just as your best friend and Calum’s did as well. They were always goofing off and laughing about inside jokes no one else ever wanted to understand. Many nights you’d stay up on the phone nitpicking each other’s interactions trying to decipher any hidden meanings. You always came up short.

You both figured if they liked you, they’d make the first move and that’d be that.

One night while you were all over at Calum’s with the rest of the guys, Luke was being more flirty than normal. He kept wanting to compare hand sizes and leaned on you more than usual.

“What’s gotten into you?” you giggle when he wraps his arm around your neck pulling you against him, your hand holds onto his chest. He’s very warm and you can feel his heart thud beneath his teal silk shirt. A shirt that makes his eyes dance and your knees weak as you gaze up at him.

“You haven’t,” he grins and you scrunch your nose at his attempted sexual innuendo.

“You want me in you?” you laugh.

“Well, I’d prefer to be in you,” he smirks, rubbing his thumb on your cheek, “but I’ll take whatever I can get.”

“Oh yeah? I think you’ve had enough to drink.”

He shrugs, a dazed smile on his face until someone calls his name. With a quick, wet kiss to your forehead, he leaves you to speak with them and you’re flushed. What the hell was that?

***

It’s been a hot four days in LA and it will only get hotter so you were out shopping with your best friend for sundresses to wear. They kept you cool in the blazing sun and Michael was throwing a BBQ this weekend, putting his DJ skills to the test for entertainment while the pool was open.

She was telling you of the most recent encounter she had with Calum and you listened intently but also a bit distracted from Luke texting you. Just recently you began sending each other playful texts.

It stemmed from a few nights ago when you were having a girls night of going to dinner and a bar for some drinks to let loose. You had on a dusty rose body-suit with lace along the bodice paired with jean shorts and black boots. You felt great, you looked great, and with the amount of drinks you’ve already had you were feeling pretty great as well.

Feeling bold, you went to the bathroom of the bar and snapped a pic in front of the large oval mirror above the sink. The lighting in the bathroom made your skin glow. With your hand on your waist, hip jutted out and your head cocked, you stuck your tongue out at your reflection and sent it to Luke. Swaying slightly in your boots, you examined the picture more closely and thought you looked hot.

You took a few more in different poses, peace sign above your head, your back facing the mirror so you looked behind yourself and then a selfie with your tongue sticking out, the camera angled perfectly at your cleavage.

It wasn’t until you got home that Luke responded to your little photoshoot and you were giddy at what his response would be.

Fuck, you look good

Then he started sending pictures back. Not long after that, the pictures turned into scenarios and late night confessions of secret attraction. Your stomach filled with butterflies when you found out the attraction was mutual.

“Hey, what do you think of this one?” your best friend asks, nudging you harshly in the shoulder.

Your attention was fixed on Luke’s most recent text, it was a picture of him shirtless lying on his bed, his phone held at arm's length so you could see his chest.

Wish you were here

“Hm? Oh, um,” you look at the dress in question that is held between her fingers. It’s speckled blue with pretty wildflowers scattered about and a high slit that comes up just underneath the waist. “Wow, I love it!”

“Me too,” she giggles then smirks. “What’s on your phone that’s so interesting?”

“Umm, Luke’s just texting me,” you smile slyly. You reply back: yeah, why’s that?

“Are you guys still sexting?”

“I wouldn’t classify it as sexting, it’s very PG-13,” you defend just as your phone buzzes.

“Yeah?” she quirks her eyebrow then holds out her palm, “then what’d he say right now?”

You glance down at your phone and unlock it. His response makes your cheeks heat up and your heart beats erratically in your chest. You took a deep breath and read aloud his response,

“So you can join me in the shower, conserve water and all that.”

Then you gasp at the picture he sent. He’s in his bathroom now leaning against the sink with his arm on the mirror so it shows off his thin but muscular bicep, his stomach taut. He’s smirking at you in that charming way he does and your eyes slide down his torso, the treasure trail leads down to his pubic area that you can see a little bit of his shaft.

You gulp.

“Honey, that is not PG-13.”

***

Before the BBQ, your best friend sent you a very in depth text about how you can both get Calum and Luke to make a move. You stared at her plan for a solid two minutes, mulling it over and thinking of all the ramifications. Yet it also made you think of the potential perks that could go along with it.

Staring at yourself in the mirror you look at your sundress you chose. It’s a dandelion yellow with clear buttons all down the front. It’s short and fun and you chew your lip thinking over her plan once more. Luke sends you a text saying he can’t wait to see you with a winky face and it made up your mind.

With a big sigh and a look of determination at your reflection, you lift up the skirt of your dress and slip your panties off. You kick them to the side and examine every angle of yourself in the mirror making sure no one will be able to tell you’ve gone commando. Before you can change your mind, you slip on your sandals then leave out the door.

No turning back now.

When you arrive at Michael’s house, music is already booming from the backyard and you feel like everyone is watching you and they know your little secret. You spot Luke near the back of the yard and he’s looking hot in a white tank top tucked into his dark washed jeans. He spots you almost instantly and makes his way over to you, smiling happily.

“Don’t you look like a drop of sunshine,” he says and it makes you blush. He pulls you in for a hug, his hands slip lower on your backside and he gives you a light squeeze. You yelp at the action and hope it didn’t hike up your dress or that he could feel you were bare underneath. “C’mon, let’s go get a drink.”

The bbq is in full swing, the music is amazing and Ashton is grilling up a storm. When you finish your first drink and move onto your second, that’s when you gain some confidence in your plan. Glancing around you see your best friend and Calum dancing together in front of Michael and she shoots you a wink.

You’re sitting in a group near the pool where other party goers are happily splashing in the cool water when you have an idea. Luke is sitting directly across from you and he’s resting both his arms on his knees. You’ve got a clear view of his chest, his necklace dangling.

So if you have a clear view of him, then he must have a clear view as well. You have to time your moment perfectly and then Luke shifts his focus to you. Eyes on him, you slowly uncross your legs, spreading them a little wider and like clockwork, his eyes flicker in between your thighs.

After two breaths you cross your other leg over again, and smile sweetly at him when he looks back at you. He licks his lips and shakes his head, it makes you giggle as you down the rest of your drink.

Later on as the sun is setting, you went into the downstairs bar area to take advantage of the air conditioning. You’re leaning against the bar with your hair off your neck and then you feel hands grip onto your waist and a body press against your backside.

“Was that little show just for me?” Luke murmurs against the skin on your neck. His voice vibrates onto you, his breath hot as his thumbs knead into your waist.

“Did you like it?”

“Mmm… mhm.” You feel him nod against you, the tip of his nose traces above the collar of your dress and he lifts the skirt of it up a little. “I liked it a little too much.”

Luke spins you around quickly and suddenly you’re sat atop the counter, your dress pushed past your thighs. His fingers tickle along your skin and it leaves chills down your spine. You glance down and see just how much he liked it.

“What are you going to do about it?” you exhale, voice low.

“Take full advantage,” he smiles then drops to his knees, his fingers push your dress up further and he opens your legs wider. He inhales deeply through his nose and the way he’s looking at your pussy has you reeling, you can’t help the way you clench. He groans and presses his lips to the inside of your knee, dragging his lips higher and higher until you feel his breath on your core. “Can I have a taste?”

You let out a shaky breath, your voice quivers in anticipation and arousal, “Please.”

Luke keeps his eyes on you, they contrast perfectly with the golden color of your dress and he flattens his tongue against your folds. He flashes his smirk before his eyes close and he attaches his lips fully onto you, his tongue swirling and flicking ever so slowly. He’s taking his time and your head tilts back from the tickling sensation, your fingers fly into his curls.

The pads of his fingers are hot on your knees to keep you open for him and when his tongue flicks your clit you have to bite your lip to keep the moan at bay. He does it again and again and a small squeak slips out.

“Moan for me, lovie, let me hear you,” he breathes and the vibration of his voice pulses against you in the sweetest way. “There we go, good girl.”

He speeds up his actions and your thighs begin to shake, your hold on his hair tightens and you’re sighing his name. His words of praise take you to another level, his lips and tongue are magic and you feel that all familiar tug in your lower belly. Then Luke slips his long finger inside and you clench your thighs, your heels joining together on the middle of his back.

“So wet for me, lovie, cum for me, c’mon.”

With each glide of his finger and dart of his tongue, you feel your climax climbing, you grind yourself against his mouth and when he hits a certain spot you gasp. You let out a long moan as your body goes rigid from your orgasm. Luke drags it out as long as he can, slowing his movements with yours until you stop clenching. He gives you a last kiss on your core, removes his finger then rises onto his feet.

Through half lidded eyes you watch him move his finger to his mouth but you snatch his wrist and place his finger between your own lips. He watches you suck your arousal off his finger with his mouth open, loving the way you take his whole finger in your mouth.

With your lips still around his finger, you untuck his tank top from his pants and work on undoing them. Just as you’re about to pull his pants and briefs down, you hear a commotion from the stairs. In a flash, Luke has you in his arms, your legs hooked around his waist and you let out a squeal of laughter as he runs into the bathroom.

He places you on the sink and shuts the door locking it, the only source of light from the small window bathes you in a warm golden glow.

“Shh,” he chuckles pressing his hand against your mouth, you laugh against his palm.

“Did you see who it was?” you whisper when he removes his hand.

“No,” he shakes his head, “we’ll wait until--”

You both hear Calum and your best friend’s familiar laugh. You and Luke burst into a fit of silent giggles against each other as you hear what sounds like exactly what you and Luke were doing no more than a minute ago.

“Now what do we do?” you ask sliding your hands up and down his chest and over his shoulders.

“Well, I think you were about to take my pants off,” he knocks his forehead against yours. His hands brace onto your lower back and pulls you forward so he can grind himself against you.

“Oh yeah, you’re right,” you sigh. Your fingers drag down his chest and under his shirt, you tease against his lower stomach with your nails. You can feel his pubic hair and his breathing becomes uneven when you let your finger dip a little lower, touching his dick. “But I think you should kiss me first.”

He groans and presses his mouth to yours, tongue sweeping into your mouth and you moan. You kiss quickly but quietly as you tug his pants down. He removes his hands from you to help and then you feel his dick press against your thigh.

“Fuck,” you sigh against his lips.

“Want me to fuck you?” he whispers moving his lips to your jaw and your neck. You take him in your hand, pumping him slowly and rubbing your thumb around his head. He’s a little sticky from precum and it only makes you want him more.

“Please, Luke,” you beg, your voice rises as you buck your hips against him on instinct.

“Shh, you need to be quiet. Can’t have Cal hear you,” he breathes on your neck. He rocks himself against you as well, his tip teasing your entrance with each rock.

You help each other out, your hand guides him inside and he pushes in further and further until he’s fully slipped inside. The start of your moan is loud but he smashes his lips to yours quickly, feeling him inside you is far better than you imagined. He fills you completely and when Luke drags his hips away and slams back into you, you moan again into his mouth.

His hands are on your lower back, jerking your hips forward and back as he starts a steady pace. Your butt is hanging off the edge of the sink and if Luke wasn’t holding onto you, you’d fall to the floor for sure.

You’re both panting, breathing hot on each other’s skin as he rocks your world. You think you’re about to pass out from keeping silent but he feels so good as he fucks into you with perfect precision.

“Fuck, you’re perfect,” he sighs and you moan at his words which he seals quickly with a kiss. “You like praise, huh?”

“Yes,” you squeak out pressing your hands on his lower back so he can fuck into you deeper. “Ohh, right there, right there…”

He slams into you rapidly, his balls hitting your ass and it adds to your pleasure, you feel your orgasm coming faster this time. You hear a groan from outside the door but you don’t even care that Calum and your best friend might hear you. Luke is making you feel good and you want him to know it.

Luke kisses you again just as you cum, you moan loudly into his mouth as you see stars behind your eyelids. He pumps into you a few times before he pulls out and shoves the skirt of your dress up so he can cum onto your stomach and thighs. His load is hot as you feel it dribble on your skin, his moans are sweet in your ear as you encourage him to keep going.

“Mm, just like that,” you breathe in his ear and his body jerks against you until he stops.

Hearts racing, you stay there holding each other as you gather your breath back. In a few short minutes the moans and low talking from beyond the door quiet down as well and that’s when Luke pulls away.

You fall back against the mirror, body spent from the two orgasms he gave you and you watch him tuck himself back into his pants and gather toilet paper to clean up his mess on your thighs.

He tosses the wad into the trash can and pulls you forward off the mirror. You fall against him like a ragdoll and he smiles. The setting sun colors him in a vibrant pink now and he’s never looked more beautiful.

“I’ve been wanting to do that for a long time,” he tells you.

“Me too,” you smile and give him a soft kiss. “We just had sex while our best friends had sex outside this door.”

“I know,” he chuckles helping you off the sink. Your legs are a little wobbly but his hold on you helps. “I think the coast is clear. Should we head back to my place and continue?”

“Yes please.”

He kisses your forehead then unlocks the door and lets you out first. You think he’s being a gentleman but he smacks your ass as you walk past. You’re laughing and then you stop dead in your tracks when you see Calum buttoning his shirt and your best friend readjusting her dress.

“Oh shi--”

“Uhh--”

“Hi!” you laugh nervously trying to break the very obvious awkward situation.

“Were you guys in there--?” Your best friend asks.

“Yup,” you nod trying to make the situation pass more quickly.

“So...we were out here having...and you two--”Calum points at you and Luke “--were in there having--”

“Yeah,” Luke sighs, grabbing your hand and tugs you along past them. “Tell fucking no one.”

You follow him up the stairs and with one final look behind you, your best friend gives you a thumbs up which has you laughing. Sundresses have more perks than you thought.

• • • •

Copyright talkfastromance4 © All works is intellectual property of the author. All rights reserved. Any redistribution or reproduction or any part or all contents in any form is prohibited. You may not, without written expression and consent from the author, distribute works amongst other social media platforms

Taglist: @galcalirwin @cashtonasff5sos @wokeupinjapanisabop @myloverboyash @rotten-kandy @tea4sykes @jannimoeller3 @loveroflrh @iovehemmings @cxddlyash @princesslrh @here-for-the-uproars @katiaw2 @g-l-pierce @fairyintheglass @gosh-im-short @banditocth @dezzym17 @loverofmineabi @lukeisbaby @spicycal @mysticalhood @thesubtweeter @wastedheartcth @atlcalm @itjustkindahappenedreally @calumance @babylon-corgis @thew0rldneedsmcreycghurt @lanternlover2 @istaywithmyjonas @calteahood @sarcastically-defensive17 @allier59 @calumhoodaf @frontmanash @philthepegacorn @mantlereid @lukedorkyhemmings @addietagglikesbands @kikixfandoms

#luke hemmings smut #luke hemmings fic #luke hemmings fluff #luke smut #luke fluf #luke 5sos #5sos writing

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outoftownagain · 3 years

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The best restaurants in Santorini, Greece

This, of course, isn't a definite list. We didn't even try a fraction of what the culinary world of Santorini has to offer and I am sure there are plenty of equally fantastic or better places. But by these 5 restaurants stood out for us and came recommended by other travelers and locals.

Hope you're not hungry!

---

1. Μεταξύ Μας / Metaxi Mas 9FQ5+H2 Exo Gonia, Greece www.santorini-metaximas.gr

Metaxi Mas is a must whether you take a taxi, rent a four-wheeler, or simply walk from the charming village of Pyrgos. (We were advised very strongly against doing the latter by a very nice lady at a souvenir store: "It's not possible to walk, it's in the next village! But it is a wonderful restaurant, you must make it there regardless," she said. We did it anyway and it took about half an hour of walking downhill.) And just like pretty much everyone we spoke to about Metaxi Mas promised, it is absolutely amazing. You won't find your regular horiatiki and moussaka here, but by the time you make it here, you've most likely had enough of those and will be excited to take a quick break. You'll also have a change of view, because the cozy terrace is overlooking the airport and the less photographed side of the island, which may be slightly less iconic but gorgeous nonetheless. We started with Smoked Fish in a Chickpea Stew and the moment we tasted the dish, we knew that it would be the best meal on the island. We continued with Shrimp saganaki finished with ouzo, tomato sauce, fennel and feta cheese, which I will remember for a long time. And then, for a finale, a Spicy fried pork with Assyrtiko Santorini wine (which we were about to learn all about at a nearby winery, Santo Wines) with peppers, onion, garlic, Santorini cherry tomatoes, feta cheese and boukovo—red pepper flakes. Were we full? Of course. Did we want more? Absolutely! It was our last day on Santorini, so we knew we wouldn't have time to return to Metaxi Mas, so we asked our lovely waitress if she could suggest just one more, small dish, simply because everything was so delicious that we'd love another bite. She said that her favorite thing on the menu was Oven-baked asparagus with Cretan graviera cheese and estragon, and we thought that a little asparagus appetizer would be a perfect finishing touch to this feast. Little did we know that the "small dish" is in fact a huge plate filled with lots and lots of hot, melty, delicious cheese (with a little bit of asparagus buried deep under). It was way more than we wanted but way too delicious to leave behind and a taxi to take us to the wine tour at Santo Wines was already waiting. We might have burnt our mouths a little but we finished the asparagus and our wonderful waitress brought us a dessert packed to go because she knew we had to go. If you're in Santorini right now and looking for some delicious food, I couldn't be more jealous of you!

---

2. To Psaraki Vlichada Marina, Vlichada 847 00, Greece www.topsaraki.gr

Near the southernmost tip of Santorini, at the end of Perivolos beach you'll find the charming Vlychada port. Arguably the best place to view it from (and definitely the most delicious one) is To Psaraki taverna. You'll have to drive or take a taxi there but the place is worth the trip. The actual restaurant is very nice but you really want to sit at the bright blue terrace across the street, which overlooks the port and the sea. Eating at To Psaraki feels like finding a hidden gem andt also like being on a Greek postcard at the same time. The food is delicious and it starts from the very beginning—each table receives a bread basket and a portion of Santorini tomato paste with olive oil and oregano. (There is a tomato paste museum down the road, but it was still closed due to Covid when we visited.) We continued the feast with Fresh Greek mussels steamed with wine and spring onions (it's hard to imagine a more perfect dish to go with the view of sea and a distant smell of a seaport) after which a gorgeous Grilled Octopus arrived. Can't say that we were hungry anymore, but our main dish — fresh and homely amberjack was only about to be served. Accompanied by vegetables, tomatoes and a lemon, it was wonderful.

The restaurant overlooks the port and a short walkaway is Vlychada Beach with black sand, a beach bar and some amazing view of the cliffs, which makes it easy to spend a whole day in this small area.

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3. Kokkalo 25is Martiou 25, Thira 847 00, Greece kokkalosantorini.com

We arrived in Santorini midday and after the initial shock caused by the overwhelming beauty of the view from the plane, then the taxi and finally from our suite, we were ready to eat. We picked Kokkalo purely because it was the closest recommended restaurant from our suite. It did take some climbing (everything in Santorini involves countless stairs and hills) and then a short walk along a busy, narrow street, but the place was 100% worth it.

We were greeted by a very friendly and quirky lady with a very particular sense of humor and a tray with 2 glasses of strong, local liquor. Day drinking it is! After hearing that we just arrived on the island, she was quick to recommend a local specialty—Santorini tomato fritters. "If you're going to have them, you need to have them here," she said, "we have cooking classes and we teach how to make them here." Tomato fritters are very tasty, but to be completely honest, it is one of those dishes that you try once and don't necessarily need to order again anytime soon.

We also got the Santorini Greek Salad and Chicken Souvlaki, which were both absolutely delicious and anyone could eat them every day for a long time. The presentation of the chicken deserves a special shoutout—it is definitely an attention-grabber when it arrives at the table.

Kokkalo is totally a great spot—it may not overlook the volcano, but staring into the flat side of Santorini with Anafi island in the distance is a pure pleasure! Mix that with great food, chilled wine and lovely service and you have a fantastic experience!

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4. Roka Mpotsari 6, Oía 847 02, Greece www.roka.gr

I'm not gonna lie, Roka was a bit of an accident (a great one though!) We hiked from Fira to Oia and we completely underestimated the time it would take us to complete the hike considering all the stops for wine, snacks, photos and views. They say that the hike takes from 3 to 6 hours and it did take us 6 hours (we're fast hikers but we stopped A LOT along the way to enjoy the views and wine) so when we finally got to Oia, we needed to eat before the sunset and most places were either booked or still closed because of Covid. We basically ran to check out Roka and it is semi-hidden in a maze of small, charming alleyways so we got a little lost trying to find it. We were greeted by a man who looked like he could be in a movie about a mafia-ran restaurant: white shirt and a tie, a sceptical gaze, a cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth, and a brutal silence. He turned out to be our waiter and luckily he turned out to be very friendly, much contrary to our first impression of him.

We were seated at the small back patio lit by the setting sun and overlooking the sea and some less touristy parts of town and the island. The food was absolutely delicious yet presented in a slightly pretentious but cheesy way. It is not taverna food and obviously the chef is aspiring to a higher level of a dining experience. To start we were served rusk with olives and delicious tomato paste, which we learned was typical of Santorini, famous for its cherry tomatoes. Then we continued with ‘Imam Bayaldi’ with eggplant, shrimps, ’Oyzo’ glaze and chilli garlic mayo and Mushrooms Ragout on a sourdough bruschetta with caramelized onions, cream and gruyere sauce. Those two appetizers were quite Huge And Totally Satisfied Our Post-Hike Hunger, But We Had Two More Dishes Coming - Main Courses This Time.

Skioufikta - Traditional Greek Handmade Pasta with Caramelized Onion, Eggplant, Zucchini, Tomato and ’Xinoturi’ From Ios, which was light, delicate and delicious. The shape of pasta is a bit like cavatelli and is a perfect vessel for the summer flavors of this dish. Fresh Dorado Fillet came with fantastic Parsnip Puree, Braised Leek that melts in your mouth with Hazelnuts and was topped with long, thin crisps that gave it an additional texture. Satisfied and excited, we ran to the nearby Castle of Agios Nikolaos for a spectacular and unforgettable sunset.

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5. Naoussa Fira Santorini Next to the Central Orthodox Cathedral of Fira Town Mitropoleos Fira Town, Thira 847 00, Greece naoussasantorini.restaurant

When we arrived at this gigantic taverna, it was empty, with the only two guests eating at a table near the windows. We decided to sit at the other table with a view—right next to the couple finishing their dinner. It turned out to be a quite an unfortunate choice because those guests were an extreme example of a married couple who goes out to talk to other people in bars and restaurants. We spent the entire dinner listening about the wealth, success and amazing life of our co-diners, all the houses, apartments, businesses and countless trips all over the world were described in detail whether we wanted it or not. We also learned the history of their relationship including tidbits like: "Would you believe that after not seeing me for 2 weeks my husband chose to take me out to eat sushi instead of taking me to the bedroom straight from the airport?"

But back to the restaurant, the food was delicious and the sunset view (when we managed to look away from our interlocutors) quite terrific. We started with Dolmades, which are vine leaves stuffed with lemony rice and happen to be one of my favorite small dishes. The leaves are the best when they're delicate and not veiny, the rice needs to be moist and the entire thing is best served room temperature or slightly warm. So good! We also had a tuna salad with hard boiled eggs, which looked a bit like mess but was packed with unexpected flavor. We finished with a whole fish, which was absolutely perfect.

We did drink a lot of wine and we took our time eating, listening to the forced stories and admiring the sunset. At some point the initially empty dining room filled up completely and then it emptied again. It felt like we experienced the whole circle of sunset dining crowd.

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writinginthesecrettrees · 4 years

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Don’t Forget: He Has A Brother

Takes place in August of 2007, between Independence Day and Halloween.

The first thing Dean became aware of was that Sammy wasn’t next to him, and something in his soul told him that Sammy wasn’t anywhere nearby.

That, more than the ropes tying him to the chair and his splitting headache, told him that something had gone wrong. Last night (was it last night?) was drinks at a bar, playing pool with some idiots and watching Sam dance with the sort of pretty little thing both of them love to play with, shiny blonde hair and a short red dress and Dean can already picture what she’ll look like when her hair is wet with blood, and then the world starts to get a bit fuzzier than beer can account for and that sweet girl doesn’t know it but it’s her lucky night, he’s gotta get to Sam and tell him… tell him…

The last thing Dean remembers is the world spinning, and a voice saying “Hey, buddy, you don’t look so good,” and darkness.

The room he’s in is dark, faint daylight filtering through a dirty window high on the wall, the floor is concrete and there’s water dripping from an exposed pipe, leak tied off with an old rag. He’s been tied to a chair by someone who knew what they were doing, ropes not giving at all when he tests them.

Above him, a door opens and footsteps approach, down a flight of stairs and coming to a halt just behind him. They stand there, silent, and Dean shakes his head.

“Don’t get shy now, sweetheart. You’re the one who wanted me here, aren’t ya?” Dean pictures the face Sam would make if he could hear him, pissed off over Dean not taking things seriously.

The man behind him moves then, comes around to where Dean can see him, and Dean’s not surprised to see one of the locals he’d been playing pool with. Sam’s gonna bitch him out for this, getting drugged and kidnapped by some idiot amateurs. Dean feels his lips stretch into a smile and he doesn’t try to hold back his laugh then.

“What’re you laughing at, pretty boy? Or are ya too stupid to know what’s happening here?”

The anger on his abductor’s face makes Dean laugh harder. The sudden flare of pain and taste of blood in his mouth when the man punches his cheek helps him stop. He spits blood out onto the floor.

“Why don’t you tell me what you think is happening, and I’ll tell you why you’re wrong.”

“I think we got us a very pretty plaything, and we’re gonna have a lot of fun soon’s we decide who gets the first turn.” There’s an arrogant cruelty on the man’s face that would be hot if he were Sam, but he isn’t and Dean’s gonna flay him for the almost-resemblance.

“You’re wrong, and you’re an idiot.” A shadow flickers past the window and Dean grins up at the man, blood staining his teeth and gums. “See, you thought I was just some innocent passerby, and no one would notice me missing for who knows how long.” The confidence on the man’s face starts to flicker. “But someone noticed me missing right away. Five minutes after you assholes grabbed me, guaranteed. And he’s coming for you.”

“So we get two toys. We know how to handle nosy friends.” False bravado is something that Dean’s never seen on Sam’s face so it fits the man better, won’t save him from the fate Dean’s already decided on.

A slight scuffle upstairs, and the man looks towards the cellar ceiling.

“You sure about that?”

Sam looks up from the blonde he’s dancing with, frowns when he sees the pool tables empty and no Dean in sight. Dean should still be there, hadn’t been playing long enough to have cleaned them out yet.

He’s not too worried. Dean can take care of himself, probably the guys he was playing with got tired of losing and Dean will be out in the parking lot, hiding in the back of the Impala for Sammy to bring his lovely armful out for a night of fun.

No special occasion this time but they both get an itch when they haven’t had blood on their hands in a while, and this girl has a soft innocence that promises tears and whimpers and begging when they have their knives in her, rope around her throat and face turning blue and Dean saying “good boy” in his ear for finding her. Sam presses himself against her, whispers in her ear, and she giggles like she thinks the hard-on against her belly is for her.

He can’t shake the feeling that something’s not right. Dean should have caught his eye before slipping outside, given him a signal that it was time for the real fun to start. He’s casual when he asks the girl if she wants to play some pool with him.

“I haven’t played much,” she says. “Tables are usually full.”

“I’ll teach you, baby,” Sam purrs, imitating Dean. Arm around her waist as he steers them to the pool tables, and very casually, “Those guys who were here earlier, they usually take over the games?”

She nods, makes a show of running her hands up and down the pool cues and probably thinks it’s seductive. “They’re bad news.”

Sam racks the balls, rolls his eyes behind her back when she bends over too far with her cue held deliberately wrong but plays along, leaning over her and guiding her hands correctly. “Bet I could take ‘em.”

She laughs then, turns in his arms so she’s half-lying on the table beneath him. “They’d like you to try. They like pretty strangers. It’s a good thing you aren’t the only new blood in town.”

Dean’s got to be the prettiest stranger they’ve ever seen, and he was playing pool with the bad news while Sam was separating this bit of fun from the herd instead of watching his back. Sam grits his teeth while he takes a shot, sinks a few before missing to give her another turn. He trails his fingers over her arms, her neck, her thighs while she lines up a shot, leans in to whisper, “Sink the eight ball and I’ll give you a special prize,” and she does, no hesitation.

“So where’s my prize?” she asks, light and teasing and sparkling eyes.

“Come back to my room with me,” he says, and she smiles. Lets him take her hand and lead her outside, to the Impala, black and gleaming in the moonlight.

Dean’s not in the back. That’s okay. Sam will find him soon.

She doesn’t start to get worried until he’s driven past the only motel in town with no sign of slowing.

“I think you missed your turn,” and her voice is shaking, just a little, and this is the part where Dean should rise up out of hiding, lock his arm around her throat and squeezesqueezesqueeze until she’s unconscious but Dean’s not there and Sam can’t enjoy her fear when his own is clamoring louder and louder in his brain.

“Shut up.”

She’s scrambling for the handle now, and he pushes the gas pedal to the floor, racing down dark deserted roads towards the old abandoned farmhouse he and Dean had found that morning. The reason they stopped here instead of driving on through town, and Sam’s already picturing it going up in gasoline-fueled flames when he’s done because if they hadn’t stopped Dean wouldn’t be missing.

“I wanna go home,” she whimpers.

“Shut. Up!” Sam takes one hand off the wheel, grabs the back of her head and slams her forward against the dashboard. She goes limp beside him.

She doesn’t come back around until he throws a bucket of water over her face, and if Dean wasn’t missing Sam would enjoy the disorientation melting into panic as she realizes she’s hanging from her wrists, feet just barely touching the floor.

“Oh God, oh God,” she cries, twisting around, trying to see something outside the puddle of light cast by oil lamps around her feet. Sam steps into the light behind her, waits for her to twist back around, and she screams when she sees him. “What do you want from me?”

“I want you to tell me about bad news. And what they did with my brother.”

“What?”

“Wrong answer.” Sam takes his knife, drags it down her body from her collarbone to her cunt, pressing deep enough that her skin rips along with the fabric of her dress, and she screams and tries to twist away. “Careful,” he says, letting the knife press deeper at her ribs, “if you move too much I might lose control.” The dress falls open, red blood on her skin giving the illusion that it’s still whole.

“You’re sick!”

“And you’re not answering my question.” Sam slices through the straps holding her dress up, watches it slide off her body to the floor. “No panties? Bad girl.”

“You seemed to like it earlier.”

“Darling, I was thinking of my brother.” Even with Dean missing, Sam relishes the look of disgust on her face. “Which brings me back to my question: who were the men he was playing with, why are they bad news, and where is Dean?”

“I don’t know!”

“I don’t believe you.” He pulls a lighter from his pocket, flicks it on, holds it in front of her face. Eyes wide with terror, whites showing all around as she strains her head back from the flames. He laughs at her, brings it closer until he can see the babyfine hairs on her cheek shrivel in the heat. “You’re lucky I don’t have time to set up all my toys. I got a poker - it gets real hot when I let it sit in a fire, makes the flesh sizzle when I play. You ever hear human flesh sizzle?”

She doesn’t answer, just sobs, eyes focused on the flame in his hand.

“Sounds just like burgers on a grill. My brother loves burgers. He likes the sizzle sound, too.” He flicks the lighter closed and puts a gentle hand on her cheek, gives her the earnest eyes that drew her in earlier, suppresses a laugh when she jerks her head away from his touch. “I just want my brother back. Just… tell me what you know, and this’ll be over.”

“They’ll hurt me,” she whimpers softly.

Sam smiles at her. “I’ll hurt you more.”

She cries as she tells him everything she knows about the Pickering men: their cruelty in the town, how the shopkeepers and bartenders and even the sheriff are afraid of them, how sometimes when a traveler is passing through town they turn up missing, and how they have a hunting cabin a little ways out into the wilderness and the whole town breathes a sigh of relief when their truck trundles out for a stay. Sam strokes her hair, croons at her that she’s being so good, thanks her for the information. When she’s done, she looks at him with hope bright in her eyes. “So… you’ll let me go now?”

Sam cups her face in his hands, marvels at how small she looks, presses a soft kiss to her forehead. She looks almost giddy with relief, and he desperately wishes Dean were here to watch it turn to despair when he says, “No.”

He leaves her alive, bars the door and throws a match on the oil-soaked wood. It catches immediately, and he can hear her start to scream when the fire licks its way inside. He sits in the Impala, watches the old barn burning brighter and brighter, strains his ears to hear her over the increasing roar of the flames, jerks himself roughly and thinks about how good Dean’s mouth would feel if he were here, sucking him off while Sam watched the fire. It’s not good enough, and Sam tucks himself back into his jeans unsatisfied.

He’ll come with Dean, or not at all.

Sam finds his brother bound to a chair in a filthy cellar, the last of the Pickering men standing behind him with a knife to his throat. Dean looks bored, rolls his eyes when the man says “If you come any closer I’ll kill him!”

Sam ignores him, takes the last steps down the stairs. “Dean?”

“I’m fine, Sammy. They’ve been very hospitable.”

“That’s a big word for you.”

“Shut up.” The affectionate grin Dean gives him brings an answering smile to Sam as he starts towards them.

The knife at Dean’s throat bites in deeper, a drop of blood trickling down towards the collarbone and Sam wants to be done with the Pickerings so he can lick the drop away, suck Dean’s skin clean.

“I mean it, stop!” The man sounds hysterical, and Sam glances up at him.

“Any objections if I just blow this one’s face off?” he asks Dean.

“Kinda got plans for his face,” Dean says.

Sam thinks about what sort of plans Dean might have. Really wants to watch whatever Dean’s wanting to do. “Okay, then.”

The man had underestimated how fast Sam could move - most people did, thought big and tall also meant slow. Sam’s at his side before he realizes Sam’s running, fingers digging into the man’s wrist as he forces the knife away from Dean’s throat. He manages to land a fist in Sam’s ribs, and Sam twists his hand, breaks the wrist he’s holding like snapping a twig. The knife drops and the man howls as Sam forces him to the ground, kicks his head to knock him out.

“Took you long enough to get here,” Dean says while Sam cuts him free.

Dean stands up, rubbing at his wrists and scowling as blood flows back to his hands.

“Let me.” Sam grabs his hands, rubs them briskly, gives the nerves something to feel other than pins and needles. “I had a bitch of a time getting info on where these dicks were.”

“Yeah, well.”

It’s not in Dean’s nature to admit he was worried, but Sam doesn’t have a problem with it and he pulls Dean against him, wraps his arms around Dean, marvels that he got here before the Pickerings really got started on him, buries his face against Dean’s neck and breathes in the gunpowder and blood scent that means home. “I was worried about you. Jerk.”

Dean’s hand strokes over his hair, and he can hear the smile in Dean’s voice when he says, “Bitch.”

They tie the man in the cellar to the chair Dean had been bound to, head upstairs to put some restraints on the others. Dean grins at the two unconscious men, left in a heap by the front door. “You get me the nicest gifts, Sammy,” and Sam glows at the praise.

“Thought you’d wanna play with them yourself.”

“You know me so well.”

There’s a bed in a backroom, not quite a single but not big enough to be a double and the sheets have seen better days, but Sam doesn’t object when Dean pushes him down onto it. Doesn’t object to the ropes Dean holds up, one eyebrow raised in a silent question, lets Dean tie his wrists to the bedposts and opens his legs, lets Dean slide his body into the perfect fit space between them.

Dean growls as he fucks Sam, one hand pressed over Sam’s throat and squeezing off his air, and the ecstasy on Sam’s face spurs him on. He dips his head to kiss Sam and Sam licks flamehot into his mouth, tastes like candy and ash and blood and it’s heaven. He finishes before Sam and leaves him hanging, ignores the protest as he walks out naked.

Comes back with a Pickering on a leash and stands in the doorway for a minute, admiring the way Sammy looks tied to a bed and thoroughly debauched, cock hard and dripping precum on his abs. “Such a pretty picture, Sammy. Isn’t he pretty?” he asks the man he’s dragging.

“Fuck you!”

“Well, that’s just rude. I let you see my baby brother, the prettiest thing in the world, and you don’t even say ‘thank you.’ Can you believe him, Sammy?”

Sam’s scowl makes Dean laugh. “Yeah, you’re right, Sammy. Can’t have him walking around with this memory. I’m jealous like that.”

Dean’s covered in the man’s blood when he comes back to the bed for round two. He goes slowly, jacking Sam through a first orgasm and fingering his already loosened ass through a second, soft kisses across his nose and cheeks as Dean thrusts slow and deep until Sam’s shuddering through a third.

The second Pickering dies quickly, eyes gouged out before Dean pulls him into the room and Sam’s murmured approval as Dean takes a hammer to his major bones before smashing his skull in.

Dean slides into Sam easily, cumslick and open for him and Sam moans happily, gives a full-body wriggle beneath him and blinks sleepy eyes and when he’s done Dean unties Sam, lets him curl up under a ratty quilt while he goes to get the last man.

The one in the cellar.

He’s just coming around from Sam’s kick when Dean drags him still tied to the chair into the room. His face is a bit addled, like if they let him live he’d never be quite right in the head again but the only regret there is he won’t really understand what’s happening to him.

Dean took time to grab his tools from the Impala, and he makes sure Sam is watching when he stands behind the man, holds his chin in one hand and presses a surgically sharp blade into the skin at his hairline. “Told ya I had plans for this one, Sammy,” Dean says and loves the way Sam’s eyes light up.

He watches Sam’s smile as he slices around the man’s face, starts to peel back skin and flesh while the man screams and screams.

“Touch yourself, Sammy. Wanna watch.”

And Sam does, rubs his oversensitive dick and whimpers at his own touch, runs his thumb over the head, curls over and presses the fingers of his other hand into his hole.

The face comes free under Dean’s knife, and the man is twitching. Dying, probably, shock and blood loss draining the life from him. As he dies, Dean leans in to whisper in his ear. “You made several mistakes here, buddy. One was hunting where you live. That’s just plain stupid. Another was hunting me - I’m Dean Winchester, and it’s too bad you won’t live long enough for the FBI to tell you what that means.” He chuckles. “But your biggest mistake? The fatal flaw? You didn’t account for my brother.”

Dean ends the man’s suffering with a knife across the throat, arterial spray splattering over Sam as Sam comes. They fuck one last time in the outdoor shower, rinsing blood and worse of their skin and out of their hair, and Sam goes to his knees under the spray to suck Dean off again before they leave.

Currently thinking of Henriksen in the middle of summer, and he knows the Winchesters aren’t going to go months without a kill so when a call comes in that might be his sort of thing, he gathers up the team and heads out. Finds himself in a small town, with a burnt down barn and a woman’s charred body hanging from a chain inside. An old cabin just outside town, and shallow graves that the locals are digging up, filled with bodies that belong to at least fourteen missing persons, and they’re still finding more. The locals are avoiding going inside the farmhouse, but the green faces on several of them say they’ve taken a peek.

Inside, it’s Winchester work.

“What do you think happened, sir?”

“I think those brotherfuckers did us a favor for once. Bartender says these sick fucks left with a man matching Dean’s description.”

“And?”

“Guess they didn’t know he had a brother.”

#currently thinking of henriksen #wincest #serial killer au #serial killer dean #serial killer sam #murder #like so much murder #tw: blood #tw: violence #they like murder a lot #in a 🍋 sort of way #🍋#i've missed writing this 'verse

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thehungryplaice · 3 years

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Go Back To The 80s With The Hungry Plaice....

https://www.the-hungryplaice.uk/go-back-to-the-80s-at-your-event

The 80s....What a Decade! I don't mind admitting we are big 80s lovers at The Hungry Plaice, it was the decade of our childhood filled with cheese and the start of the video game revolution and if we could go back in time that's where you would find us, I would love to go back to experience the feelings of being back there but with alot more appreciation for what we had as we didn't have a clue back then how fab that time was. There are loads of 80s revivals around, 80s pop stars relaunching their careers and touring again and TV shows picking up on the 80s themes. We love our 80s vans so much that we currently have two these are our Vintage Fish and Chip Vans Betty and Beryl, we try not to look around and see if there are any more for sale as we would be quite happy to fill up our driveway with more of these beauties!

The 80s was filled with fun, fun and loads more fun from the Neon leggings we all wore to the Arcades full of cool games that we used to play, things back then just seemed so much easier and we were still in the days when it was safe for us kids to be playing out all day without our parents knowing where we were rather than being stuck in your bedroom glued to a game, we enjoyed fresh air and freedom and as long as we were back for tea our parents didn't worry about us. We didn't have rules like we do nowadays, Health and Safety was in it's infancy and as kids we could do pretty much what we wanted, we had metal bars we would swing on in the playground at school with huge concrete stepping stones you'd jump across, I got a scar from banging my nose on one of those in my Primary School and I still think it was character building. At home we had a metal framed bunk bed I'm sure was from MFI, there was a metal netted bottom that the mattress sat on top of, I always used to get my hair tangled up in that and I'm sure I've probably got bald patches from where I had to be cut out to be freed. We had a pampas greenish coloured bathroom set in my childhood home which would be considered Vintage today and lots of brown 80s things around the house like pull down coiled lights in the ceilings. My parents were delighted when they had the chance to put an eye level oven in the kitchen and ditch the freestanding gas oven where you had the grill at the top and try to burn your hands when you were cooking your fish fingers, we did have a microwave at some point and that lead to a rebellion on proper cooking! I remember using libraries alot when I was younger, it was a treat going and picking out books you could take away home, there was a limit to the number that you could have and you had to be careful not to get a fine for taking it back late. Information had to be researched and you couldn't do that from the comfort of home, for school I had to go there to find books on certain subjects and I remember being fascinated when having to use those terminals to look at old newspapers. The music was so much better back then, there was a happiness to songs that just made you want to dance not full of rude words and sexual references like today, we had an array of one hit wonders and big massive stars like Madonna and Kylie, Duran Duran and Wham! The songs still get played today but they sound more superior as we no longer listen to them on cassette tapes.

Cassette Tapes.....they were the days, I forgot how you had to rewind them to the beginning to get to the start and you could use a pencil if the tape pulled out and how there are pauses between songs and of course whilst you can try to to rewind and forward wind you'll never find the start of a song, we are spoilt now that we can do that just by pressing a button. The most embarrassing bit was when I asked my husband if something was wrong with the tape as the pause was going on just a bit too long....he gently reminded me that it was the end of the tape and it needed to be turned over haha!! Of course we all had those high tech Pre MP3/IPod/CD Players to play our music with a set of headphones with the fuzzy ears, my brother had one of the early Sony Walkmans and never let me even see it, I bet that's worth something these days I bought a cheap one off Ebay recently I couldn't help myself! Toys were actual toys there were a few electronic ones around such as Speak & Spell or a talking doll where you had a pull a bit of string and it only said about three words, we really actually played with physical things I had Sindy and some Barbie Dolls in fact I had so much of it I'd carry it all in one of those old large blue plastic shopping bags funny there were sold by Tesco to put into your trolley when they introduced self scanning it seems the technology died a death all those years ago but it now all the range. My brothers had Action Men and loads of model cars, we had a huge floor mat that had map on it with roads and a town that you would drive your model cars around all day on. There were Garbage Pail Kids, Care Bears, Rubix Cubes Train Sets and Scaletrix and as we were a bit more money savvy in those days you'd only get something for your birthday and Christmas not just because your parents wanted you to be quiet!

TV Back in the 80s

When we wanted to watch something on TV we only had a few channels I remember the time before Channel 5 and we had one huge Brown TV in the Lounge where you had to press the buttons on the front to change the channel, I reckon you would have needed a forklift to move the damn thing it was so huge and took up half the room. Days were filled with whatever my parents wanted to watch, there was Rainbow and Playschool when I was little, I remember watching the very first episode of Eastenders (a bad TV habit I dropped a few years ago), programmes were quite limited back then but it wasn't a huge deal because we entertained ourselves as kids, sometimes watching a Film would be a big treat and made special times like Christmas were more exciting sitting down together as a family and watching a film just released on TV that we had never seen before. We didn't mind adverts if we were watching ITV or Channel4 they didn't drag on like you get these days.

I don't remember exactly when Video Recorders came on the market but I know there were Betamax and VHS, we had VHS machine, you could record programmes off the TV and playback at your leisure and you always knew someone who was copying VHS to VHS that would sell you some films. I still used VHS tapes when my daughter was little so they were around all the time I was growing up. Buying a VHS tape was a real treat, you might have been lucky enough to have seen a film in the cinema but there was always a really big delay until they were released on Video or so it seemed. Of course for a really special treat you would go Blockbusters to rent a video but they were quite strict if you forgot your video card I guess computer systems weren't able to let you confirm any of your account details you had!

80s Fashion

Then there was the fashion in the 80s.....wow it was great and brilliant all neon neon neon and bright colours, I had one of those multi coloured white and purple shellsuits and Hi-Tec Trainers. There were punk hairstyles and coloured dyed hair and clothes that didn't match, famous stars created looks from throwing clothes together like Madonna and Boy George. Colours like pink, yellow and blue where everywhere, we had shoulder pads and polka dots, tracksuits and fitness gear, an explosion of trainers and dungarees. There are brands that have come back into fashion nowadays like Kappa and Champion, I wish to god I had kept them all to have them now! We would shop in the local high street and independent fashion shops, I lived in London and would go markets at the weekend, Wembley market was a huge favourite. We had BHS and C&A and a shop called Madhouse in the High Street at the top of the road, I don't really remember when the supermarkets starting selling clothes and the rise of the bigger fashion names back then we were quite limited to only a few shops. I have to mention Woolworths of course, we had one in our high street and I would enjoy just walking around looking at the everything they had including the glorious pick and mix!

Rumbelows.... I remember when you wanted something electrical you could shop at Currys and Comet and even Rumbelows, you always had to go out to buy something and bigger electrical items were never in stock and always had to be ordered and delivered weeks later, we really don't know how lucky we are to have the internet and the ability to order online it saves so much time and give us the freedom of choice to buy from so many different places. Of course the reason we couldn't buy online was because we didn't have the internet in our homes, no mobile phones, I got my first when I was 18 and had to ask permission to call anyone from the house phone, if you wanted to meet your friends you had to arrange it all before you went out and you couldn't check if they were on their way to see you unless you have 10p and phone box nearby. You were lucky if you had a Games Console let alone a Computer....

Gaming in the 80s, well what can I say it put gaming on the map and if it wasn't for those early days I doubt the gaming industry would be what it is today. We had a Spectrum Sinclair 48k first, I'm not even sure what a 48k would be today in terms of processing or storage even a single Word document can be bigger than that. It was bought as a shared present in the family one Christmas and I rarely got to play on it. All I remember is that we had a small black and white TV that we would connect to the computer and you'd have a cassette player connected to, for the Sinclair 128k we had later on I know there was a cassette player connected to the right hand side of the keyboard. Anyway you'd press play and then hear this whizzing buzzing noise whilst the game was loading and the TV would go all fuzzy, sometimes it would take ages and if you had a copy your mate recorded it might not load properly, talk about building your anticipation and then letting you down! The games we had included Daley Thompson, Hungry Horace and Jet Set Willy, I've seen the Spectrum emulator and its a great reminder of the games we had in the days gone by, they now download in seconds....just think what we could have done with all that time we sat staring at a screeching cassette tape player waiting for games to load. We would use the keyboard to play or a joystick if that sort of thing was sold with the Computer you had and your parents could afford one, it was quite easy....left, right, up, down and fire. Us kids would normally have one type of computer, ours was the Spectrum and I know someone on our road had the Commodore and I think there was a Binatone in someone's house, you were royalty if you were lucky enough to have more than one Computer. Handhelds were around then like the Game and Watch ones I don't remember all the different ones they made there were so many sold, we had an early Donkey Kong split screen it was orange on the casing of course I hardly got to play that either, the newer generation of Gaming Consoles like the Sega Megadrive was a big surprise to us kids that you could just put your game in and not long after be playing your game how did that happen! We also had the launch of the Nintendo Gameboy at the end of the decade which changed our gaming lives forever! Another side of gaming that you don't really see today was the Arcades, they were places you hung out with your mates for hours and hours playing Street Fighter and Pac Man, we had a shop on the high street which only had one or two I think it might have been a cafe, when you scored a high score you'd put your three initials in, arcades are mostly for the seaside holidays today full of the boring 2p push machines and fruities, as we know the game industry moved from those high street arcades to bedrooms.... So next time you complain about having to wait whilst you're downloading that highly sophisticated game with the controller I would need a degree to understand how to use think about us kids and our gaming....!

The 80s....wow what a decade

what a time, full of colour, lights and fun, I do wish I could get in a time machine and go back there and have some fun but I know we will never go back to those easy days we will keep moving forwards so instead I'll enjoy our road trips in the vans with the crackling radios....

https://www.the-hungryplaice.uk/go-back-to-the-80s-at-your-event

#thehungryplaice #vintagefishandchipvan #fishandchipvanhire #weddingcatering #weddingfood #corporateeventcatering #eventcatering #1980sparty #1980s

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terreisa · 4 years

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Love Down the Line: Chapter 8

The last thing Indie musician Emma Swan needs is a gigantic wrench thrown in the workings of her biggest tour to date weeks before its launch. When her backing guitarist that caused the problem says she has the perfect solution Emma is skeptical but left with little choice but to accept. Unfortunately she isn’t really prepared for said solution to be former Rock Star and leading man of Emma’s teenage fantasies, Killian Jones. With no other options and a month of performing across the country ahead of her Emma just hopes she doesn’t come to regret letting Killian onto her stage and into her life.

Ch 1, Ch 2, Ch 3, Ch 4, Ch 5, Ch 6, Ch 7, AO3

~*CS*~

Denver, May 20th

“Have you slept with him yet?”

Emma choked on the bite of grilled cheese she had unfortunately tried to swallow just as Tink asked her question. They were in their hotel room having arrived only an hour before after a brutal thirteen hour drive from Dallas. She’d had every intention of vegging out and watching the ubiquitous middle of the night marathon of Unsolved Mysteries until she passed out from exhaustion. Tink’s out of the blue question derailed those plans completely.

Though, she had to admit she’d been waiting for Tink to ask something like that since Chicago.

Ever since the afternoon the bus broke down things had shifted between her and Killian. She had never considered herself to be a touchy feely person but for some reason with him she couldn’t help but inch closer when they were sitting side by side, or find reasons to brush her hand against his, or a million other little casual touches that seemed to thrill her and ground her all at once. It wasn’t just her either. Killian was just as guilty at seeking her out and drawing her close. He was much less subtle about it than her and to her own surprise she didn’t mind one bit.

Of course, that was when they were around other people. Whenever they found a moment alone, however, things grew heated quickly. She’d been pulled into more alcoves, behind stacks of equipment, down empty hallways, and up to more roofs for quick but toe curling make out sessions than she could count. Not that she wasn’t guilty of doing the same to him and enjoying every second of it.

One thing they hadn’t done was actually talk about what it was that they were to each other. There had been plenty of opportunities, seeing as they’d found more than enough time to drag each other into dark corners, but Emma had hesitated each time. The question of what it was they were doing was constantly on the tip of her tongue but she always bit it back. It wasn’t just her feelings on the line, though they were a major part of it, but there was the rest of the tour to consider. They were only halfway through and Ruby hadn’t called to tell her that she was ready to play again. If she gave things with Killan a real, no holds barred chance and they went south the fallout would be huge. It didn’t help that the tension between them was ratcheting up to ridiculous levels and she knew that he was waiting for her to decide whether to pull back or push forward. She just didn’t know if she had the strength to do either.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said, trying for nonchalance but unable to when she was still coughing.

“Emma,” Tink said exasperatedly, her hands going to her hips, “You can deny all you want but you’re not fooling me. I’ve read about this over and over again to recognize the signs.”

“Romance books aren’t instruction manuals,” she scoffed, “And there aren’t any signs because there’s nothing going on between me and Killian.”

Tink smirked in triumph, “I’m going to ignore that you insulted my reading habits because I never said who I was talking about.”

Emma sighed in resignation. She had thought they were being careful but she should have known that Tink, of all people, would have picked up on the shift in whatever it was she had with Killian. For Tink and her belief in all things love, romance books actually were instruction manuals.

“So have you?”

“No, nosey, I haven’t and I’m not going to-” she took a large bite of her sandwich to hopefully help cover up the giant lie she’d just told. Tink narrowed her eyes at her so she swallowed quickly to explain, “We’re just friends. I didn’t think we would be but you know how it is on a tour. It’s how you learned to tolerate Will for more than an hour. It’s the same with Killian. Friends. That’s it.”

Tink merely stood there, looking at her.

“What?” She snapped, throwing her hands up in exasperation. “Okay, so I’ve been spending a lot of time with him or whatever. He’s got a lot of stories and knows a lot of tricks for the road. Did you know that he still checks into hotels with an alias? Like a spy movie? He said it’s so that someone doesn’t tip off the paparazzi but I think he’s more afraid of his fan club showing up. I guess there was one time some girl was hiding in the closet of his hotel room before he even got there because he’d used his real name. He uses James Barrie, you know, the guy that wrote Peter Pan? It’s his favorite book and- why are you looking at me all smug and shit?”

“Do you even hear the words you’re saying?” Tink laughed. “Are you trying to convince me or yourself? It’s not a bad thing, Emma. He’s a good guy and he really likes you, has since the beginning.”

“He has?” She asked, surprised.

“Oh my god,” Tink said, rolling her eyes, “You can’t be that oblivious. Yes, dummy! I could write my own best seller with all the yearning looks and doey eyes you both make at each other.”

“I don’t yearn,” she grumbled, finishing off her sandwich.

Tink giggled as she pulled out her phone. Emma frowned when she noticed that Tink was fully dressed, shoes and all.

“Going somewhere?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah,” Tink said distractedly, her thumbs tapping on the screen. She looked up smiling, “My old roommate from college runs one of the local radio stations here and we’re going out for drinks and some dancing. Hey, wanna come?”

Emma looked down at the terrycloth robe she was wrapped in and felt the bone deep exhaustion from a series of good but tiring shows pulling at her, “Nope, I’m done in. I’m going to finish my onion rings, destroy Ruby in another round of Words with Friends and pass out to the soothing tones of Robert Stack.”

“Well, if you change your mind just let me know,” Tink said cheerfully.

With that she left in a flurry of sequins and an almost noxious cloud of perfume.

Emma snuggled down into her bed, ecstatic with the sudden freedom she had in the room. She got along fine with Tink but she’d never really gotten used to sharing her space with someone else. Even when she’d shared an apartment with Ruby it had been a steep learning curve that she’d never gotten the hang of.

Revelling in being alone she got down to the business of doing exactly what she’d described to Tink. Just as she’d sent off a triple word scoring ‘kumquat’ to pull substantially ahead of Ruby there was a quiet rapping on her door. Confused and a little worried that something might be wrong she padded across the room and warily looked through the peephole. Seeing Killian’s distorted face on the other side simultaneously sent a wave of relief and a thrill of anticipation through her. She pulled the door open with a grin she didn’t even try to hide.

“What brings you to my neck of the woods?” She asked quietly, knowing the other guests on her floor were probably asleep.

Killian shrugged and then scratched behind his ear, “Er, I was making use of the twenty four business center to give Will and his girlfriend a bit of privacy-”

“Oh, Belle’s here?” Emma asked excitedly before she realized what Killian was implying. “Oh, that’s, uh, nice of you.”

“I can be generous at times,” he said sardonically. Then he began fidgeting again, tapping on the cover of the notebook in his hand with his thumb, “As I was saying, Tink saw me and when I told her my plans for the night she insisted that I make use of her bed instead.”

She stood blinking at him, trying to make sense of his words but only one thing stood out, “Your plans?”

“Aye-” he scratched behind his ear again and wouldn’t meet her eyes, “You see Belle is only here for the night and has a flight early tomorrow morning and considering how, er, enthusiastic Will’s greeting was I told them the room was theirs.”

“And where were you going to sleep?” She asked, narrowing her eyes and hoping he wouldn’t say-

“The bus?”

“Jesus, Killian,” she pinched the bridge of her nose and stepped back, “Get in here.”

He walked into the room but only far enough for the door to close. When she turned around he refused to move further and they stood toe to toe.

“It’s honestly not an issue for me to sleep on the bus for the night, Swan. I have done it many times before.”

“So have I and it sucks every time-” she pushed past him but grabbed onto his wrist and dragged him along with her, “You should have come here in the first place. Even if Tink wasn’t going out we have a perfectly uncomfortable floor for you to use. I guess you’ll just have to settle for this queen sized quilted mattress instead.”

“Har, har, love,” he said drolly as she let go of him next to the still made bed and proceeded to crawl back into the nest of pillows and blankets she’d accumulated on hers. “That looks cozy.”

“You should see my bed back home,” she said absently as she made herself comfortable. Then she realized what she’d said as heat crawled up her neck and into her cheeks and Killian raised his brow at her, “Not that I’m inviting you over. I mean, you can come over but not only to see my bed or you know, you don’t have to see the bed at all. Whatever, it’s up to you.”

Killian chuckled and said in a low, teasing voice, “Up to me, huh? And if I said I wanted to see the bed?”

Emma froze. She knew that as much as he meant it as a joke he also meant it in the way he was implying. Suddenly Tink’s earlier teasing seemed all too real. The truth was she wanted everything the women Tink’s precious books got, the blissfully happy ending filled with love, respect and the added bonus of phenomenal sex. With butterflies the size of seagulls in her stomach she looked at him and hoped that she wasn’t about to make a complete ass of herself or end up with her heart shattered into a million pieces.

“Just the bed or are you interested in the whole place? Leaky faucets, thin walls and all?”

“I, erm-” Killian tilted his head, his brow knit in confusion.

“Because, yeah, the bed’s great and all but I think the rest of the apartment is pretty good too. It might not look like it but it is,” she said vehemently and a tiny bit defensively.

“I’m sure it is,” he said slowly. His eyes darted between hers as though he was trying to read her thoughts, “What is it you’re trying to say, Swan?”

She knew she was being unfair and a bit of a coward by making him try to puzzle it out. The only time she liked to be vulnerable was in her music and even then it could be an uncomfortable stretch. Opening herself up to Killian had the potential for disaster but the patient, dare she say doey eyed, look on his face gave her the small dose of encouragement she needed.

“Do you want to want to go out to dinner?”

“Now?” He asked bewildered, throwing a look at her empty room service tray on the room’s table and grinned, “It’s nearly two in the morning, love.”

“No, not now,” she said patiently. “Tomorrow, before the show. Go out, like, on a date or something.”

Killian’s amused smile softened and he ducked his head, “Shouldn’t I be the one asking you?”

“Figures you’d be old fashioned,” she said with a relieved laugh, “Get with the times, Jones. So, do you?”

“Want to go on a date? I’d love nothing more,” he said, his gaze flitting back to the tray and then to the tv that was still showing Unsolved Mysteries, “Though I do have one request.”

“Which is?”

“Allow me to plan the evening?”

The earnestness of his question took her by surprise. Since she’d done the asking she’d planned on doing a quick Yelp search for a higher rated restaurant and calling it good. From the hopeful way he was looking at her she suspected that he’d already been thinking about what to do on a date with her. She could feel a warmth surging through her at the idea that he had been piecing together date plans for them already.

“I know how to plan a date,” she said with a small pout even though she was far from upset.

“You know how to astound a packed venue in any city, I know how to plan an evening out in every city,” he said with a confidence she found impressive.

“Fine,” she said with a shrug. Burrowing back into her pillows and blankets she looked at him askance, “Just so you know I don’t rock and roll on the first date.”

He snorted in amusement, “Well, you’ve never been on a date with me.”

Emma gave him a skeptical hum and delighted at his warm chuckle. She watched surreptitiously as he toed off his shoes and placed his notebook on the bedside table, noting for the first time that he was in sweats and a hoodie. When he pulled a couple of pens out of his pocket and placed them on the notebook she couldn’t help the giggle that escaped.

“You wouldn’t be laughing at me now, would you Swan?” He asked with a raised brow, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Just wondering how much you expected to get done in a hotel business center in the middle of the night that you thought you needed more than one pen,” she teased, reaching her hand out to nudge the pens out of alignment.

He huffed and lined them back up, “Terrible thing to run out of ink when trying to get down the lyrics cycling through your head, love. I’d think you’d understand.”

“You’re writing again?” She asked, scrambling to sit up.

“Oh, er-” he scratched at the back of his neck as his ears began to turn pink, “Nothing of note, really, just some fragments that might have potential. Or they could end up being rubbish but I should write them down, though, rubbish and all. Not that I need to write or anything and I am out of the habit so what little I’ve got probably doesn’t hold a candle to anything you could write-”

“Killian-” she reached out and grabbed the sleeve of his sweatshirt, giving it a little shake to interrupt his rambling, “I’m not asking to look at what you’ve got. I get it, it’s all private until you’ve got it to a point that it’s not so much anymore. I was just… surprised I guess? I haven’t seen you credited as a songwriter since the accident so I stupidly assumed you hadn’t written anything since.”

“No, love, your assumption is actually quite spot on,” he sighed. His gaze drifted back to the notebook and he glared at it, as though it had personally insulted him, “It’s been an uphill battle to get back into it after all this time.”

“Then don’t,” she said with a shrug, letting him go and sliding back under the covers, “No one’s making you, right?”

He made a kind of strangled sound that had her looking over at him. His ears were turning pink again but he shook his head.

“So don’t force it. It’ll be like riding a bike once you’ve actually got something worth writing about.”

“I’m sure it will be,” he said with a small chuckle.

She gave him a satisfied nod but as he began to pull back the covers on the other bed she surprised herself by making a small sound of disappointment. He looked at her with a raised brow.

“Something wrong?”

“No, I just-” she paused, not entirely sure what she wanted to say. She’d already opened herself up much more than she ever had with one person before and didn’t think she had it in her to keep going. There was, however, something else she wanted to do. Sliding over a bit she flipped back the covers and tilted her head to the spot next to her, “Want to see what late night tv looks like in Denver?”

Killian stood unmoving except for a slight tick in his jaw. Disappointment crashed through her. She hadn’t realized just how much she wanted to be close to him, even if it didn’t lead anywhere. Clenching her fists she forced herself to remember that he’d just agreed to a date and was clearly interested in something with her. Taking a deep breath she gave what she hoped was a casual enough shrug, smoothing the covers back into place and fixing her gaze on the tv.

“Or not. I’ll, uh, keep the volume down. Still a bit wired, you know?”

She kept her eyes glued to the terrible reenactment that was happening on screen and tried to ignore the living statue that Killian had become. Even when she heard his harsh exhale and low chuckle she continued to look forward. When he tugged the covers out from under her arm her resolve faltered.

“Budge over a bit more, love?” He requested as he climbed into the bed next to her. She gaped at him and he gave her a soft smile, “Do you want the light on or off?”

“What?” She said dumbly, the heat radiating off of him clearly addling her brains.

“I think for a true cinematic experience the light should be off but perhaps that will only serve to make it harder to stay awake, though I think that’s the point?”

She snorted, “Do you get more wordy the later it gets or are you just trying to be an ass?”

“A bit of both I suppose,” he said gleefully, “So, on or off?”

“Off,” she said quickly before she could second guess herself.

The sound of the lamp clicking off somehow sounded like a thunderclap. As she let her eyes adjust to the dim blue light of the tv she was hyper aware of Killian next to her. She could tell that he’d taken a shower before leaving his and Will’s room since the smell of his soap and deodorant was still strong. Fighting against the urge to bury her nose in his chest she didn’t realize he had asked her a question until he nudged her with his elbow.

“Huh?”

“Falling asleep already? Good I can watch whatever I want then.”

“I don’t think so-” she quickly grabbed the remote and held it out of his reach, “I’m not going to sit through some documentary on pirates or Ancient Greece or whatever.”

“I mentioned once that I like Ken Burns and you use that against me? Bad form, Swan,” he grumbled, though she could hear the smile in his voice.

“We’ll go through the channels once and then we pick something,” she said as she started flipping through channels, “We each get one veto but we’re not watching something that has to do with what we do.”

He turned to her, “Does that encompass the entertainment industry as a whole or merely our melodic neck of the woods? Because it sounds like you’re using a loophole to get more than one veto.”

“That’s not what-” she paused on a fast food commercial and sighed, “I actually want to be able to unwind at the end of the night and if we watch something music industry related I’ll start thinking about the next show and if it’ll be as good as the shows before it, or how we’re releasing Snowdrops and Buttercups before the LA show and all the interviews I’ll have to do while we’re there, or how Regina keeps hounding me to increase my social media presence to ‘stay relevant’. If you want to count that as my veto that’s fine.”

She could feel the weight of Killian’s stare but she kept her focus on the insurance commercial that had replaced the fast food ad. Tink and Ruby had never complained about her taking control of what they ended up watching at the end of the night. Then again they’d always put on Food Network and kept it there so it had never been an issue.

“Alright-” Killian nodded and wiggled a bit, bringing him closer to her side, “Nothing industry related. What about musicals?”

“Big fan?” She asked, turning to him with a smile that was due to more than just his teasing question.

“The biggest,” he said with mock seriousness. He turned back to the screen, “but you haven’t even got to the premium channels yet, love. Can’t make a decision without knowing all my options. Carry on.”

They ended up going through the channels three times and Emma using her veto on a cheesy nineties horror movie. Through sheer luck and good timing they paused on a channel to argue over her veto right as the commercials came to an end and the next program was starting. By the time they realized what was playing Marty McFly was skateboarding through Hill Valley to the sound of Huey Lewis and the News. With a grin to match Killian’s she tossed the remote towards their feet and settled comfortably into his side without a second thought.

She came awake with a start to a darkened room an undetermined amount of time later. Confused and overly warm she tried to turn to look at the clock on the bedside table and found that she couldn’t due to the arm wrapped around her waist. After a brief moment of panic she remembered whose arm it was and why it was there in the first place.

“Swan?” Killian’s voice was gritty with sleep.

“I missed the enchantment under the sea dance,” she mumbled disappointedly.

He chuckled and it reverberated across her back, “Love, you didn’t even make it to Doc Brown’s house in 1955.”

“Oh-” she blinked owlishly in the dark and blamed it for the question that tripped off her tongue, “Why didn’t you move to the other bed?”

Killian’s arm tensed around her middle. She held her breath waiting for his answer.

“You asked me to stay,” he said simply.

A vague memory of her doing just that surfaced in her still sleep addled mind. Wiggling a bit until his grip on her loosened she turned to face him. She could barely make out his features as her eyes adjusted to the dark but from what she could see he seemed wary but hopeful.

“I’m glad you listened.”

Slowly, so that he would have time to stop her, she leaned up and forward, gently pressing her lips to his. He made a noise of contentment, returning her kiss for only a moment before pulling back and pressing his forehead to hers.

“I think I should go to the other bed.”

“Why?” She breathed. The darkness of the room made her feel bold as she snaked her arm between them to rest on his chest, the tips of her fingers toying with the collar of his t-shirt. “I still want you to stay.”

He groaned, “Swan, I’m trying to be a gentleman.”

“Oh, so you’re a gentleman now?” She teased, ghosting her lips over his.

“I’m always a gentleman,” he retorted, as his hand drifted down to her hip and flexed, as though he wasn’t sure if he wanted to push her away or pull her closer, “but you’re making it bloody difficult. What happened to not rocking and rolling on the first date?”

“You’re right-” she nodded, pulling her head back but inching their hips closer together, “Good thing this isn’t our first date.”

His hand gripped her hip and held her in place as his eyes searched her face. She gave him a sultry smile as he looked, drawing idle patterns on his chest with her fingers. It was easy for her to see that he was trying to figure out why she had gone from zero to sixty in the span of a few hours. Deciding to go easy on him she let her smile soften and moved to brush the hair off his forehead.

“Emma-”

“It’s no secret that I’ve had the hots for you since the leather pants and emo eyeliner-” she broke off at his wide grin and wagging eyebrows to roll her eyes at him, “Please, I know Ruby told you all about my obsession.”

“She may have let some things slip,” he said with a mischievous look, “Is it true you had a photo of me as your phone background?”

“Well, you looked really hot in that photoshoot for Men’s Health,” she stated without shame, though she couldn’t help knocking his ego down a peg, “Even if you totally lied about running five miles a day.”

“I might as well have with the shows we put on every night,” he grumbled. “So you read the article as well? Good to know you were interested in more than just my pretty face.”

“I’m a fan of every part of you,” she said simply. “Even more now. Definitely more now. I’ve gotten to know you, as a musician and as a man, and turns out I really like you. You get me in ways that no one else ever has, not Regina or Ruby or even the Nolans. You make me feel like anything I want is possible and I want you in every possible way. One date or a hundred won’t change that. Plus I really, really like kissing you.”

“I rather fancy you too,” he said softly, his hand running up her side to cup her cheek, “But are you sure?”

“If I wasn’t I would have made you get in the other bed in the first place or just sent you down to the bus-” she leaned forward and nipped playfully at his lower lip. When she pulled away he made a low noise in his throat, “I’m sure.”

“Good.”

With a low growl Killian surged forward and captured her lips. Emma let herself fall into the kiss and thanked her lucky stars that Tink had given them both the little nudge they clearly needed.

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