#but i’m making it now cos i just got fired from my first job today and i was there for a bit over 2 years LOL

[mirrorama]

estimate! and say you currently still work at your first job, just choose how long you’ve been employed. i also understand there might be some nuance as far as maybe like promotions/transfers/etc etc etc, so feel free to explain things in the tags!

[the-expired-tofu]

The Devil's Trumpets | Pt. 1

|| A 'The Glory' fanfic ||

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a/n: Hey there, this is my first time writing a fan fiction. I might change a few things in my fictions later on. Also, my English isn't my first language so my writing might lack some fluency. Hope you enjoy :) trigger warnings: bullying, murder, gore, depression, abuse, mature content, violence, sexual themes. pairing: reader x multi

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Y/N

“Y/N DID YOU MESS UP YOUR CUSTOMER’S ORDER AGAIN?” My manager yelled.

 “I’m sorry, I’ll make sure this doesn’t happen again,” I apologise as I bow in front of him, followed by a sharp pain of his slap right across my face. Gasps and whispers echoed in the room.

  “Fifth time this month. Do you get what I'm saying? FIFTH TIME THIS MONTH!!! Am firing you next time you do this again. YOU HEAR ME?”

“Yes sir.”

 He begins to walk away as I retreat back to clean the counter.

 "Honey, you should go easier on her," The manager's wife whispered.

  "Look, we are the only ones properly running this restaurant and we barely get any customers. This is the least i can do to atleast get more people.”

"Don't you think he's being too hard on her? She barely got a proper job after her graduation. He should be grateful that she even chose to work here," whispered one of my co-workers.

"I don't know. I heard she ran away from her house. We don't even have any information about her family. Don't you think it's all too suspicious?"

"Is Min-Hee really even her niece? Or is that a child she had out of wedlock?"

And so all the whispers followed. So many rumours yet none of those ever bothered me.

My shift is almost over.

I’ve been working at a fast food restaurant in Seoul for two years now. I live in an apartment few blocks away with Min-Hee, my four year old niece. Her parents were killed in an accident two years ago. Her mother, who was also my sister, had wished for me to take Min-Hee into custody. Quite many people were against this idea since I was financially unstable to raise her on my own. Today, I can say am financially stable enough to get Min-Hee into a school. The restaurant employees, including myself, are not well compensated. Payment of bills and rent is quite difficult for all of us. The money I make from my job was enough for me to manage a roof over our heads. Even though I never wanted to live like this, I am still grateful of the fact that I no longer live in Semyeong.

I finish my shift by depositing the rubbish outside in the restaurant's back yard. I was thinking of buying some noodles for Min-Hee on the way home when I notice a shadowy figure standing at the end of the street.

I didn't give it much thought until the person started walking towards me. Nobody else was on the street except me, and our restaurant had just been closed by one of my coworkers. It was 9:45 p.m. I don’t know where to go. I don’t have anything to protect myself with.

The faint light in the street helped me figure out the person’s appearance. The individual had their hair tied back as a low ponytail and wore a long grayish coat along with long loose pants. As the individual came more nearer, I could finally see the face. It’s a woman.

As she eventually approached me, I could finally recognize her. I felt chills running down my body when she got more closer. I remember who she is.

Moon Dong-Eun. After so many years. I was quite curious to what happened to her after she dropped out. The Moon Dong-Eun I remembered from high school feels like an entirely different person than the one standing right in front of me. But what the fuck is she doing here? How and why did she find me?

“It’s been quite a long time. How are you doing y/n?”

 I didn’t say anything at first.

“You can say am doing fine I guess. I have a job now and…." I paused. I decided to stop blabbering and cut straight to the chase. "What are you doing here? How the hell did you even find me?”

“I will explain that later. I need your favour.”

“Favour?” I crossed my arms as I said so.

“Yes. I’ve been wanting to do this for quite many years now. I can even pay you if you want.”

“Pay me?" That's strange. "Okay. What is it that you need from me?” I ask hesitantly.

She doesn't say anything and looks around. Is she trying to look out for someone?

“I need you to go back to Semyeong.”

My arms dropped to my sides. The silence grew louder between us. I stood right there in disbelief. No, I cant go back there. Not when I have Min-Hee now, no. I worked hard to get away from that godforsaken place. No. I cant go back there.

“Sorry I cant. I cant just go back to Semyeong just because you asked me to. Am not going back even if you pay me. Since you’ve been able to find out where I live, you might already know that I have my niece to take care of. Sorry. Just find someone else.” I raise my hands as I try to dismiss our conversation and retreat away from her.

“I understand your reason. But don’t you think they're living their lives quite easily, after knowing what they’ve done to you? What they’ve done to us? Don’t you want revenge too-”

“Am sorry. I already told you, I cant go back there. I can barely afford anything these days, let alone go back to the hell I escaped from. Sorry, I wont help you.” I nod my head as I gather my things.

“It’s 10 pm. I have to get back.” I say after a pause. I start walking towards my apartment. Min-Hee is waiting for me.

“Yoon So-Hee was murdered.”

I stop dead in my tracks. Yoon So-Hee? Oh I remember her so well. Someone like us. Yoon So-Hee. She disappeared one day out of nowhere. Or so I was told. Nobody was able to find out what happened to her. Yoon So-Hee.

“What?” I turned around to face her.

She shows me a picture of a dull yellowish name tag. On it was carved in black “Park Yeon-Jin”. My mouth went completely dry. Yeon-Jin? She is behind the disappearance of So-Hee? How did Dong-Eun find that out?

“I mailed this name tag to the police right after I dropped out, hoping it would work, I was pretty naïve back then.”

“If you gave that to the police, how do you have the picture with you then?”

“I have my sources, which I can’t tell you yet.”

I keep staring at the name tag, did she really murder her? She willingly went that far to kill someone for her pride?

“After Yoon So-Hee’s disappearance, the police found a body of a girl in her teens with her skull cracked. Maybe she had few of her ribs broken as well. The body was found near the abandoned building of our school. Apparently, they did find a pink lighter at the roof of the building and never informed anyone outside their own people, but because of the snow, they couldn’t trace who it belonged to. The sweater she wore was burned too.”

All this information was just a lot for me take in. I just couldn’t say anything.

Dong-Eun takes my phone out of my hand and dials some random digits on it. She saves the number under her name. I need to put on a phone password.

“Call me if you ever change your mind. I’ll see you later.”

I stood there completely motionless as she walks away to the end of the street. She gets into her car and drives past me, didn’t even bother to look at me. What did she get herself into? How the hell did she manage to get hands on a confidential evidence? What will be her next move? She did mention she had some help in accessing the name tag. Then who’s helping her? Are they even reliable?

The ring of my phone interrupts my chain of thoughts. It’s Min-Hee calling from a telephone number.

“When are you coming home?”

“Almost there. Just crossing the street.”

“Doesn’t your shift end at 9.30?”

“Yeah I was just caught up with some stuff. Do we have food at home?”

“Oh yeah we have the leftovers from today’s lunch.”

“Oh that’s great. I’ll be right home.”

“Okay.”

I slide my phone inside my pocket as I walk up the stairs. Moon Dong-Eun. What the hell are you playing at?

I walk into my apartment. I haven’t stopped thinking about what Dong-Eun told me. She comes out of nowhere, tracks me down, finds out where I live and where I work, and decides to tell me about an information I am in no liberty to talk about to anyone. Are there more people who know about this? Or is it just me? What the hell do I do now?

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[charlywrites]

Requested by anon

Request; angst to fluff with reader working for the rbr team but when Horner catches her kissing Lewis she gets fired on the spot and also publicly reprimanded and accused of being unprofessional and incapable of doing her job as a cruel attempt to ensure she could never show her face again. Lewis tries to defend her and fix things, but the damage has already been done. So reader’s been feeling depressed and has hardly left her room despite Lewis being there for her and his attempts to comfort her. the frustrating and devastating affects of the situation even begins to take its toll on their couple. Lewis talks to Toto and gets Mercedes to hire her and fix things and redeem her reputation, and there’s a happy ending for them

Warnings; h*rner being an evil asshole, reader gets humiliated(?), depression, talk of not eating, really long fic.

Note; it gets quite deep, please, if this can trigger you in any way, do not hurt yourself by reading this + I did not truly went with the ending asked, an hopeful ending seemed more fitting than a cheesy, happy one.

✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩

It all started only a few races in over the last season, that day you were running late for a scheduled interview Max had to do. You were supposed to get him ready, briefing him on the kind of questions he would get asked, but one of your co-workers had accidentally messed up your files.

As you were running through the different hallways, hoping that the interviewer hadn’t shown up early, you didn’t look where you were going and ended up falling flat on your butt after colliding with someone, who, unlike you, didn’t end up on the floor.

Feeling your cheeks heat up in embarrassment, you started to apologize profusely as you got back on your feet, everything seemed to go against you today, “ i’m so sorry, I wasn’t looking where I was going. God, I’m so stupid!”

“ It can happen to anyone honestly, are you alright?”

That’s when you finally realized who you ran into, you had seen him around a couple times but you had never actually met Lewis- and you wished you had met in a different situation, “ yes, i’m fine, thanks for asking. Again, I’m so sorry!”

“ Don’t apologize, I’m not the one who fell,” he laughed lightly, making you smile at the sound, he had a beautiful laugh, “ can I ask what your name is?”

“ It’s y/n,” you were already embarrassed from the whole situation, you didn’t want him to think you were rude but you truly had to go, “ I have to go, I’m late and I don’t want my boss to be mad at me.”

“ I understand, it was lovely to meet you, y/n. I hope to see you again soon.”

As you left, mumbling a goodbye to Lewis, you didn’t think you’d meet him again that soon, yet the same exact day, a few hours later, you met again but this time, you weren’t running late. The day was over for most of the staff, you were just all getting ready to head back to the motorhome or hotel.

You were sitting in the paddock enjoying one of your favorite food as you hadn’t gotten the time to eat earlier due to the hectic schedule you had. To busy yourself, you were reading the schedule for the rest of the weekend, at least that was until someone sat next to you.

“ I hope your boss wasn’t too mad at you for being late earlier.”

You smiled at Lewis, touched that he didn’t forget the small conversation you had earlier, “ no, I was lucky the interviewer ended up being late as well! I even got the time to brief Max about the interview so it went great.”

“ That’s good to hear! So, you work for Red Bull as Max’s manager?”

“ Not exactly, I’m part of Red Bull’s PR team so I work with both drivers. I’ve been working here for a while now but I’m still as happy and excited as the first day, it was my dream to work in F1.”

“ So, you’ve been a longtime fan of F1?”

“ For as long as I can remember,” the smile you had on your face since you saw it was Lewis who sat next to you faded when you realized that you might bore him by talking about your life, “ I’m sorry for over sharing, it’s just- great to have some willing to listen, you know?”

“ I like learning more about you, don’t apologize for sharing things from your life, y/n!”

And just like that, you spent over an hour talking with Lewis, learning about each other’s life as if you were old friends catching up. You had heard from people about how kind Lewis was, and you weren’t disappointed- he was probably the nicest person you’ve ever met.

When you left each other that day, you wondered if you’d get in troubles for befriending Lewis- you didn’t see why anyone would get mad at you for being friend with him, after all drivers from different teams were friends, this wasn’t much different.

However, as the season went on, Lewis and Max’s rivalry became more intense and so did the rivalry between the two teams. In the meantime, you had fallen for Lewis and he had fallen for you, even with that rivalry and potential troubles it could get you in, you didn’t stop seeing him.

After all, why would you? It was your personal life and who you were seeing didn’t concern the team you worked for as long as you stayed profesional. You knew how to separate work and personal life, so you didn’t really understand why you’d be in troubles.

Yet, you knew you could get in said troubles, it wouldn’t be the first time someone would have problems with the team they work with because of something unrelated. Formula One was the elite of motorsports, so no matter your job, you couldn’t disappoint without the fear of losing your spot.

That’s why when Lewis and you got together, you both agreed to keep it secret for now and at least, until the end of the season. You wanted to avoid getting in troubles with Red Bull and he wanted to protect you from the medias that would most definitely come at you.

You didn’t mind your relationship with Lewis staying secret, it was actually great that way because you were spared from hearing the unwanted opinions some people would say. That being said, you knew one day whether it was soon or later, this relationship wouldn’t be secret anymore.

For months, you both did a perfect job at hiding what was between Lewis and you, people just assumed that you were friends- and that alone, wasn’t seen well by everyone, especially at Red Bull, but they couldn’t say or do anything against you, you were just friend with a driver from a rival team as far as they knew.

When the last race of the season happened, before the race, you were secretly rooting for your boyfriend as he was almost champion already- and for most of the race, he had beaten Michael Schumacher legendary record of seven world championships.

It took a safety car to make Lewis loses the title to Max Verstappen. It was the most unfair decision you had ever seen, yet you couldn’t do or say anything- you were supposed to be happy, your team had won.

The hardest part of that night was to see Lewis getting out of the car from afar- you were heartbroken for him, you wanted to get to him and hug him, tell him he had done everything and that the ending had been decided for him.

You saw Lewis’ father being there for him, as well as some of his friends, it made you feel better to know that he wasn’t alone but you were still hurting. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t think this race could end your relationship, you would have understood.

But it didn’t happen. Instead, you even took the risk to have your relationship discovered when you didn’t celebrate the win with the whole Red Bull’s team. You excused yourself, saying that you were feeling very sick and went to sleep early.

Truth was that you spent most of the night with Lewis in your arms, he was closed off and didn’t want to talk about the race or even anything related to racing anymore- so you did the only thing you could that night, be there for him and be patient.

The winter break had been way different than what you could’ve imagined- Lewis really disconnected from all social medias and spent most of the break with you and his family, it actually brought you closer than you already were.

When the start of the actual season came, he felt refreshed and had found the strength to come back stronger than ever. You were pretty excited to see what this new season would bring to the two of you, even if you were still in rival teams.

———

The qualifying were going to start in around ten minutes when you sneaked out of the Red Bull’s garage to meet with Lewis to wish him good luck. People were way too busy getting ready to notice that you were gone, or see you outside of your garage- it was always a bit risky to do that, but over the months, it became a routine to go wish good luck to Lewis before a race.

Your hands were loosely resting behind Lewis’ neck while his own hands were resting on your waist, just as he kissed you, the two of you were caught by none other than your boss, Christian Horner- you didn’t even need to hear what he had to say to know you were in big troubles.

You didn’t get to say anything, and in all honesty, it probably would’ve made it worse, you weren’t surprised to hear your boss’ words, no matter how heartbreaking they were, “ you’re fired.”

“ You can’t fire her just because we’re together, that’s completely unfair!”

It was sweet of Lewis to try defending you, but the damage had been done- you just had lost your dream job because you had fallen in love, “ I don’t care, she should’ve known better than to fooling around,” his words were spat with so much venom, so much hatred that tears were forming in your eyes, “ go get your things before quali starts and never come back.”

You could only nod, head hanging lowly in shame but also to hide the pain clearly visible in your eyes- you did as you had been told, you went back to the Red Bull’s garage and grabbed your things before disappearing in the blink of an eye.

You didn’t know if Horner had already spread the news of you and Lewis being together, so just in case he had done so, you didn’t dare to show up in the paddock, instead you found a little spot where no one would come bothering you and watched the qualifying on your phone.

Lewis hadn’t done too bad as he got the fourth place, which was his best result in qualifying since the beginning of the season. Of course, you were proud of him but even this good result didn’t help lightening your mood after what happened early.

When you heard that Christian Horner was going to be interviewed, you gulped, thinking that he had probably made sure your reputation had been tarnished for the rest of your life, however you never, in a million years, could have imagined what he had planned to make sure you’d never get another job in Formula One.

You watched on your small screen as Horner joined the interviewer, a smile plastered on his face as the first question was asked to him, “ today was a good day for Red Bull, Max on pole and Checo P3, what are your thoughts after the incredible pace both drivers showed today?”

“ It’s satisfying for sure, we’ll still have to push for a double podium tomorrow but so far, it’s looking good. Hopefully, we can keep the Ferraris behind like we’ve did before this season.”

“ Aren’t you keeping an eye on Mercedes as well? It seems like they’re starting to get some pace back, they might be able to make things harder tomorrow.”

“ Of course, we always keep an eye on them, however I don’t believe they’ll cause us too much problems tomorrow- at least, I have some informations that make me believe Lewis might not be too focused on the race tomorrow.”

You felt your throat tightens at this comment, you knew where he was going with this and even if you knew how nasty Horner could get, you didn’t expect him to go this far, at least not publicly.

“ Can you tell us more about those informations? ”

“ Actually, it’ll be a pleasure to do so,” there’s was something wicked about his evilish smile, it made you feel sick, “ Y/N Y/L/N, who, until a few hours ago, happened to be part of our PR team has been seeing and most likely fucked by Lewis Hamilton. Obviously, she was fired as soon as I found out. I suspect this little thing has been going on for a couple of months at least and I am utterly disappointed by how unprofessional this behavior was from her. It won’t be hard to find someone better and more qualified to do her job and I’ll end up by saying that she won’t be missed.”

You directly shut down your phone, you didn’t need to hear more from that awful man- if you ever had a chance of getting hired by another team, it had now been ruined. You’d never get another chance in Formula One, the dream was over for you.

Tears were now freely streaming down your face as sobs escaped your mouth, it was unfair. You didn’t choose to fall in love, it wasn’t something you could control, and even by dating Lewis, you had never failed to properly do your job.

You didn’t know how long you stayed there, head buried in your knees that you were hugging. It was a suffocating position, but you had no will or strength to move, until you felt someone kneeling next to you as a hand rested on your shoulder.

“ I’ve been told what he said. I won’t let him drag your name in the mud like that, I’ll fix things, sweetheart.”

“ You can’t,” you managed to say between two sobs, not even daring to look at your boyfriend in the eyes, “ I’m never going to work in F1 again, he ruined my career.”

The distress in your voice shattered Lewis’ heart, seeing you cry was hurting him and knowing that he unwillingly played a part in it made it ten times worse, “ it’s bullshit, you and i both know the job you did for Red Bull has been irreproachable.”

“ It doesn’t matter anymore now.”

Lewis sighed, knowing that deep down, you were right- no matter what would happen next for you, what Horner had said would follow you, you’d have to prove yourself as if you had no experience when it wasn’t the truth.

“ We’ll find a way to fix things, trust me.”

Your boyfriend hugged your still hunched form and laid a gentle kiss on the top of your head as he was called for an interview. He didn’t want to leave you in this state, but it was the opportunity he needed to defend you.

A part of you wondered what he would say about you to try fixing things, but in the end, you didn’t even watch, you couldn’t bare hearing about you and the work you had just lost today.

It took everything you had to wipe of the tears on your cheeks and get up from your spot, it felt stupid how you didn’t know what you were suppose to do now. Should you wait for Lewis? Or straight up get to your hotel to grab your belongings before your pass wouldn’t be allowed anymore.

You felt bad for leaving without telling your boyfriend or sending him a text but you needed to be left alone for now. When you got to your room, you didn’t know if you could stay there or had to leave- you didn’t have the heart to spend the night there, instead you took your suitcase and headed to the airport, buying the first flight back to your city.

Since nothing seemed to go in your favor today, the quickest flight for London would only take off in three hours- having nothing to keep yourself busy, you ended up finally looking at your phone which you hadn’t done since you shut it off after listening to Horner’s interview.

Your screen showed that you had missed a lot of notifications on your social medias as well as a couple of texts and missed calls from your family. However, what stuck out the most was how many calls and texts you had missed from your boyfriend.

The last one sounded truly desperate as he begged you to call him or text him that you were somewhere safe and alright. No matter how exhausted you were, you couldn’t leave him waiting any longer, it wasn’t fair to him.

Your phone barely had the time to ring that Lewis answered your call just as if he had jumped on his phone when he saw his screen lighting up, “ oh my god, y/n, are you okay? Please, tell me you’re alright.”

“ I’m okay Lewis, sorry for not answering any sooner- I shut down my phone earlier.”

“ Where are you? I went to check on you at the hotel and I was told you left an hour ago.”

“ At the airport, I’m heading back to London. There’s nothing else I can do.”

Lewis remained silent for a couple of seconds, you were right and he knew it but that didn’t make him less worried, “ do you want me to take the flight with you?”

“ No, I’ll be fine on my own. I think I need to be alone for now.”

“ I understand, just send me a text when you get back to your home, okay?”

“ I will, thank you for caring this much.”

“ Of course baby, you know I love you.”

You closed your eyes, trying to hold back the tears that were threatening to fall again- you had to cut the conversation short so Lewis wouldn’t hear you cry, you didn’t want to worry him any more. He deserved to enjoy his evening to celebrate another podium, not spend it worrying about you.

———

A whole week had passed since you had been fired by your boss and all you had done was push away anyone that cared about you in the slightest. You didn’t want to see anyone or talk to anyone, you just wanted to be left alone to dwell on what had happened.

You hadn’t left your apartment since you got back to London, you didn’t have the strength to do so- of course, Lewis had tried to make you leave the comfort of your apartment to go on a simple walk or go eat something but there was no way to get you out of your home.

You loved your job so much that when you lost it, you lost a part of yourself as well- it could sound stupid or exaggerated but since you were a child, you had been dreaming on working into Formula One.

It felt like all those years working hard had been for nothing now that you knew you would never be hired by a F1 team again. Even Lewis’ words in the interview he did after Horner’s didn’t help your case, it only made it worse- you had been called by so many names that you had lost count of them.

In the end, you just deactivated all your accounts to have peace at least, you simply wanted everyone to forget about you but that didn’t seem to work well so far. It got to the point that you wouldn’t check much on your phone anymore, making you miss Lewis’ calls all the time.

The only word that came to your mind to describe how you were feeling was numb, and sadness maybe. You didn’t have the will to do anything at all, you’d barely leave your bed, only when it was truly necessary.

The hardest part of your days was when Lewis would come check on you and spend all of his free time with you- you knew he deserved way better than this, hell you even told him but that didn’t stop him from coming every single day.

It would break him every day to see the love of his life in such a depressive state, but he couldn’t give up on you, no matter how hard you tried to push him away- he wasn’t going to leave you, he loved you way too much for that.

It was late in the afternoon when Lewis came to your apartment, just like every day since you got fired, after his work and training of the day. He was probably tired, yet he would still come as soon as he had some free time.

You didn’t move from an inch when you heard the door of your bedroom slowly opening, you were hugging your pillow tightly while laying on your side, blankly staring in front of you.

Lewis sat at the edge of your bed, close to you and kissed your temple, “ how are you doing today, love?”

It was a stupid question really, he could see you weren’t doing any better than yesterday, that’s why you didn’t even bother answering him. He had probably gotten used to you not answering him by now.

“ Did you eat anything today?”

“ No.”

Even eating, which was quite literally fundamental to live, had started to feel like a chore. Actually, rare were the times you’d even feel hungry- it wasn’t the first time you’d spend most of the day without eating since the beginning of the week, and if it wasn’t for Lewis, you wouldn’t really bother eating at all.

You heard Lewis sighs, he wasn’t mad at you but it was becoming hard for him to watch you become the ghost of who you once used to be, “ do you want to order any food? I’ll go buy some groceries tomorrow.”

“ I’m not hungry.”

“ Yes, you are- you’re just not listening to what your body is telling you. You can’t just starve yourself like that, y/n.”

“ Stop treating me like a child!”

“ I’m not treating you like a child,” Lewis rubbed his face, everyday was the same argument over and over again, “ I’m trying my best to take care of you because I love you.”

“ You deserve better than me.”

“ I don’t want better than you, y/n- you’re the only one I want.”

You scoffed at his answer, once more he had the last word, but that didn’t change your mind. A soft smile crept on Lewis’ face as he realized you were done arguing, “ you know, I was thinking I could bring Roscoe here when I’ll leave for the next Grand Prix- I don’t want you to be all alone.”

“ I’m barely able to look after myself and you’d trust me to look after him?”

“ Of course, I trust you. Maybe he’ll even cheer you up.”

“ Don’t give yourself false hopes.”

———

It had been a month since the last time you were actually happy, a whole month since you lost your job and your days were all the same and you hated it a bit more every day. You hadn’t left your apartment since the day you got back there, and you’d still spend most if not all your time in your bedroom.

Lewis was still coming every single day and when he was away, he’d call you and facetime you every day. You couldn’t understand why he hadn’t gotten tired of this situation already, you knew it was hard for him as well, yet he wasn’t giving up on you.

As time went by, you were pushing him away more and more- you loved Lewis with all of your heart, he meant everything to you, but it would be selfish of you to let him waste his time with you. You had lost all hope and couldn’t see your life getting better, the best you could do is make him move on.

And you actually thought it had started to work when Lewis didn’t show up as his usual hour at your apartment, it was breaking your heart but you knew it was for the best. In the end, it turned out that Lewis was just late and still showed up, bringing one of your favorite take out for dinner.

When Lewis came to your bedroom, you were still tightly snuggled in your blanket, your head barely peaking out of it. Your boyfriend sat cross-legged on the other side of the bed, his face lightning up as soon as his eyes crossed yours, “ how was your day, sweetheart? ”

You didn’t understand why, after a month, he’d still ask you this question, it was almost stupid as he knew you hadn’t left your room, “ I slept.”

“ I’m sorry I came later today, I had a meeting with Toto and I stopped on the road to buy your favorite take out.”

“ You shouldn’t have.”

“ Come on, I know you haven’t ate any in weeks!”

It was hard to say no, especially knowing that the said food was already waiting for you in the living room, “ fine, but I hope you know I’m annoyed that I have to leave my bed.”

Lewis let out a soft chuckle, delighted to get you to leave your room to eat, something you wouldn’t always agree on, “ I know but I’m happy you’re making this effort.”

You shrugged, letting out a loud sigh as you got out of your bed, your blanket still wrapped around you, you made it to the living room and sat at the table- the smell of the still warm food made you hungrier than what you’d ever admit.

You started to eat in silence, after all you didn’t have anything to tell to Lewis even if, deep down, you wished you had things to say, all you could do was thank him for bringing you something you loved, “ thanks for the take out.”

Hearing your words was enough to lighten Lewis’ face once again, he was happy to know you were enjoying it, “ I knew you would enjoy it!”

“ Yeah, it’s great.”

Lewis nodded, taking another bite of his food, wondering if it was the right moment to tell you about his meeting with Toto, “ so, you know how I told you I was late because I had a meeting with Toto?”

“ Yeah?”

“ Well, a few days ago a member of the team gave their resignation because she’s pregnant and want to take care of the baby and since she’s part of the PR team, I thought it would be a good idea to talk to Toto about you.”

“ With the reputation I have?”

“ Turns out Toto was already thinking of you for the job, he just wants to meet you before hiring you.”

It had been so long since you had been fired that even just thinking about being hired by another team sounded completely surreal, and you weren’t sure you could even do what you’d be asked to do, “ I can’t do that, Lewis. I mean, look at me. I’m a mess and I’ll fuck up.”

“ No, you won’t. You won’t have a big schedule to start out, he knows what happened and how hard it’s been for you since then, you’ll have a light schedule until you feel ready to work with the team full-time.”

“ You think I can do it?”

“ Of course, baby. I know it’s incredibly hard for you right now, and getting this job won’t magically fix anything but you love F1 and you loved your job, it’ll be the same one with a different, and better team. We won’t have to hide anymore.”

You couldn’t lie, it was tempting but you still weren’t convinced you were fit for the job and you didn’t want to Mercedes’ to get a bad reputation because of you, “ but what about the team’s reputation? Everyone think I’m a whore and that I’m bad at my job.”

“ We both know it’s not true and we will all have your back.”

“ I’m scared it’ll go bad.”

Lewis gently took your hand and held it to reassure you, “ it’ll be alright, and I’ll be there for you if it gets too overwhelming alright? You don’t have to say yes now, you can meet with Toto to talk about the job without having to take the job right away.”

“ Are you sure about that?”

“ Yes, we’ll go at your pace.”

“ Then, I guess I can start by meeting Toto.”

[idy-ll-ique]

Do Your Job.

Pairing: Chris Evans x F!Reader

Genre: Fluff

Requested: Nope

Warnings: None

Summary: Y/N doesn't know how to say no. And Chris doesn't like that.

Author's Note: Hiya peeps! Angry!Chris in this fic, kind of Naive!Reader... Enjoy

---

Chris watched with a clenched jaw as the woman winced upon hearing her boss. He didn't like her boss, at all. "Y/N! Why haven't you made my coffee yet?" he screamed at her, despite standing only a few feet away from her. "I-I was… I was helping Peter…" she tried saying and Chris' hands balled into fists when the man took a few steps towards her, pointing a threatening finger in her face.

"Does he pay you? Huh? Are you his assistant? Now get lost and get me some coffee, fast! No excuses!" Teary-eyed after being screamed at, Y/N whirled around and walked out of the room. Chris wanted nothing more than to just grab that asshole's neck and squeeze until the life poured out of him. "Hey, everything okay?" He snapped out of his thoughts and turned to his co-star, Michelle Dockery.

"I, uh, yeah… yeah, I'm fine, why?" Michelle didn't miss his grumpiness. "Come on, you were sitting there like you were imagining someone's murder," she snorted, plopping down on the couch next to him. "His," Chris huffed, nodding his head towards Y/N's boss who was speaking to one of the extras on set. "What did he do?" Michelle frowned and turned to look as well.

"That man does not know how to treat his assistant."

It was the last week of filming Defending Jacob. Y/N had caught Chris' eye on his first day at work; she had him wrapped around her finger in the first week. She was super beautiful, very polite, kind and helpful. She cracked funny jokes and whenever she entered a room, it seemed to get a little brighter and livelier. Chris wanted to ask her out, but chickened out whenever he tried to approach her.

They hadn't talked, ever. Sure, sometimes he'd catch her looking in his direction during breaks and in-between shoots, but he never thought anything of it. He was Chris Evans, people were gonna stare. But, in the first month of filming, Chris realized that the woman had a bad habit— she didn't know how to say no. Ever. She never, ever said no to anyone. And that annoyed him.

Y/N, can you come here for a bit?

She would get up without question, and follow the voice. He once saw her sitting down for a quick lunch and she had only had one bite before someone called for her. And he had watched as she kept her lunch away and walked towards the person. That had made him unbelievably angry, because even after her work, she didn't eat. She gave up on lunch. He had come very close to talking to her that day.

His pent up frustration increased day-by-day, as more and more people started using Y/N's overly helpful nature to their advantage. He noticed how she ran around from place to place all day, how she'd practically collapse on a seat the moment she got a break and would softly groan when she heard her name not even 15 seconds later. And the worst part? None of the people she helped were polite.

Once, he saw Y/N helping someone with her dress and the moment the job was done, the other woman had walked away without a word, talking to some of her friends. He saw how Y/N had just stared at the woman, blinking, expecting a thank you but receiving nothing in return. He noticed the disappointed sigh she heaved after and left to do her other work. That incident had just made him want to hold her and never let go.

That brought them to today. Chris and Michelle dropped the topic and chatted about something else until he saw her from the corner of his eye. Then he turned to see her fully, watching as Y/N handed the cup of coffee to her boss. That man had the audacity to give her a glare before he walked away, sipping on the coffee. This time, even Michelle noticed, and her jaw dropped.

"What?! That bastard!" she exclaimed as a teardrop rolled down Y/N's cheek. Chris' heart broke at the sight, his eyes closing when someone behind him shouted her name. Her hand instantly flew up to wipe her tears and she smiled to herself before turning in his direction. And for a brief moment, their eyes met. She gave him a quick smile before jogging past him towards the person who asked for her.

He couldn't even smile back.

---

"Cut! Break time."

Chris eased out of his tense position and rolled his shoulders before walking away, trying to find a seat. His feet ached from standing. He soon found a seat and sat down, taking out his phone. He went over some texts, until he heard her name being called. Then his head snapped up, because the person who had called for her was her boss. He glanced around until he saw her a few feet away from him.

She had her headphones in and was holding her phone horizontally, which made him realize that she was either watching YouTube, a show or a movie. And she was on her break. "Yes?" Y/N replied, taking out her headphones. "Get me another cup of coffee," the boss mentioned offhandedly, "It's my break." Chris glared at that. Make it yourself, asshole.

"But sir, it's my break too…" Y/N insisted softly. And without knowing, Chris' feet carried him towards the two. "So? I pay you, Y/L/N, there's no need to be such a brat. I'll have you fired in no time, you— Mr Evans?" Everyone around them froze as Chris placed his hand on Y/N's shoulder, darkly glaring at her boss. "She told you she's on a break," he spoke coldly. "Mr Evans—"

And the knot inside him finally broke.

"She's on a fucking break! Let her get some rest! She has been running around all day, doing things for your lazy butts—" he addressed everyone loudly, "—and none of you even thank her! Do you know what an angel she is? She continues helping you even after you treat her like scum! It's just some fucking coffee, if you're on a break, make it yourself! For God's sake, leave the woman alone! All of you, if I ever, ever hear her name being called around here again, it's over. I'll make sure you're off the set before you can even say sorry. Now get lost!"

He didn't mean to be so loud, nor so angry. But it just happened, months of frustration, months of anger released all at once. Y/N's boss stared at Chris for a few seconds, blinking, before muttering a quiet sorry and leaving. Everyone silently got back to work as Chris took in some deep breaths, trying to calm himself down. That's when he felt a small hand covering his.

He looked down and saw Y/N smiling at him, tears wantonly running down her cheeks. "Thank you so much," she whispered and his heart raced. "Absolutely no problem, darling. They were the assholes, using you to their advantage like that, so fucking disrespectfully… You have got to learn how to say no," he chuckled, dropping his hand from her shoulder. "I do, don't I?" she hummed, her lips twitching in shame.

"We'll work on it, I promise." He gently cupped her cheeks, wiping away her tears. Y/N gulped, trying her best to hide the effect his touch had on her. She had a crush on him, but like, who didn't? "How? It's the last week of filming," she pointed out with a small, sarcastic laugh. "It doesn't have to be the last week of us talking. How about we have dinner tonight, 8?"

Was he actually asking her out?!

"Yeah, yeah 8 sounds good," she replied near instantly and he gave her an amused smile. "Great. I'll meet you later, okay?" As he started walking away, she called out, "Mr Evans! My number!" And he walked back to her. They exchanged numbers, sent each other "hi" to make sure they had the correct number and Chris walked away again, ready to film the last scene of the day.

He was in an unusually good mood, having finally asked her out. She said yes.

He was also pleased at the end of the day, not having heard Y/N's name being called out even once after his outburst. Sure, after her break, some people had requested her assistance but they talked politely to her, saying thank you when she was done and smiling. Chris approved of that, after all, it was her job.

And, in the blink of an eye, it was 7:30 pm.

Chris was at home, fixing his hair. They had agreed to meet at his place, not wanting the media to find out. There, he had already ordered some pizzas and had beer ready, a movie paused on the TV. Chris finished messing with his hair and went downstairs, quickly patting Dodger's head. He sat on the couch and waited, busy scrolling through Twitter until he heard the doorbell ring.

When he opened the door, he saw Y/N. And his breath caught in his throat; she looked absolutely stunning dressed in a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, a cute little smile plastered on her face. "May I come in?" she laughed a bit when he just stood there, staring at her in awe.

It turned out to be a really good date, the perfect start to a perfect relationship.

---

A/N: Thanks for reading! Leave a like if you enjoyed!

[the-iceni-bitch]

Every Little Thing

Pairing: Colin Shea x fem!Reader

Words: ~4.3k

Summary: You and Colin are two slutty pea in a pod neighbors, but maybe you could be more?

Warnings: explicit language, explicit sexual content (fingering, f receiving oral sex, unprotected vaginal sex), idiots in love, excessive alcohol consumption, SMUT!!! 18+ ONLY!!!!

A/N: Ugh, I love Colin and I can’t believe it took me so long to write him. Before I get a bunch of notes about it, they’re gonna realize their feelings eventually but it might take a couple fics because they’re both morons, but they’re pretty morons so it’s fine 😉

Check out my masterlist and join my taglist if you want!!!

Divider by @firefly-graphics

Oh god, what the fuck was that noise? Why was your phone ringing at 8 AM on a fucking Sunday?

You picked up the offensive object and growled when you got a look at the caller ID.

“Colin, it’s Sunday morning, this had better be really good. I didn’t get home until 4 AM.”

“She won’t fucking leave.” He hissed over the line. “She wants to go out for waffles.”

“I fail to see how this is my problem.” You grumbled, rolling over onto your back and flinging your arm over your eyes. “Just ditch her at the fucking waffle place.”

“C’mon, Y/N, that’s like a second date. What about our deal?” That fucking deal, he definitely benefitted more from it than you did.

“You’re an asshole.” You mumbled, sitting up with an exhausted groan. “Gimme 5 minutes.”

“You’re the best!” You could hear the fucking grin in his voice and rolled your eyes at him.

“Yeah, I fucking know.” You didn’t wait for him to confirm before you hung up on him, stretching your whole body as you moved to put on some clothes.

It only took you a few minutes to pull on some old jeans and a sweatshirt and then you were stomping across the hall to Colin’s apartment, determined to make this as uncomfortable as possible for him. 

“Colin Shea!” You pounded on the door viciously. “This is your wife! I found your little love nest! What hooker do you have in there now?”

You couldn’t help but grin to yourself as you heard a commotion from inside, someone was cursing up a storm and you were pretty sure you heard a couple of slaps.

“I can hear you in there.” You tried to make it sound like you were on the verge of tears. “What about Colin Junior? I’m not raising that baby on my own, you bastard!”

The door slammed open and a very angry looking woman stormed out, shooting a glare over her shoulder and calling Colin a motherfucker as she scurried down the stairs. He came rushing after her with a frustrated look on his face, rubbing the side of his jaw and scowling when he got a look at the shit eating grin on your face.

“My wife?” He asked incredulously, grabbing his hoodie and pulling it over his naked torso as you just continued laughing at him. “That was kinda mean.”

“8 AM on a Sunday, Shea.” You booped his nose with your finger and winked at him before turning to head back to your place. “You wake me up before 10 AM on a weekend and you take what you can get. I’m going back to bed.”

“Wait, Y/N, don’t you wanna have breakfast or something?” He jogged after you, ignoring the glower you shot him as you opened your door. “I’ll make you my famous eggs.”

“Did you not hear me when I said I got in at 4 AM?” You frowned at him when he kept you from closing your front door. “Colin, quit being so clingy. If I wanted to have breakfast with some annoying dude I would’ve actually brought that lawyer from last night home.”

“A lawyer, huh?” He was giving you one of those stupid looks that he typically reserved for girls he was trying to bang but that he definitely knew didn’t work on you. “And that didn’t even do it for you.”

“I mean, I still rode that beard for a good hour, but he was super depressing.” You kept knocking your door against his foot with an annoyed air. “Which is why I need to sleep, so get out of my fucking doorway.”

“Fine, we’re hanging out later though!” He called as you slammed the door in his face.

You just ripped off your clothes and crawled back into bed, burying your face in your pillows and cursing the sun as you did your best to fall back asleep.

It must have happened at some point, because you woke up six hours later with a mouth full of cotton and absolutely drenched in sweat. Why was it so fucking hot?

The pillow case tried to come with your face when you rolled out of the bed and you threw it away from you with a huff as you padded to inspect your air conditioner. 

It wasn’t on. You knelt in front of it and whined as you tried flicking it off and on and nothing happened. This could not be happening, not with summer just about to start. It was supposed to be in the 90s today. No matter what you tried, it didn’t turn on. Granted, all you tried was unplugging it and plugging it back in, but that always worked with your computer.

The call to the repair company was no luck, they were closed for the weekend. This was going to suck, you fucking hated being hot. You moved to your kitchen to try to find some way to cool off after opening every damn window in your place to hopefully get some kind of air circulation going.

That’s when you spotted it. 

The frozen margarita machine you had bought on an absinthe fueled online shopping spree and never gotten around to returning. It was like a little miracle right there in your kitchen, designed to help you cool off and get drunk so you could forget about how fucking hot it was while you did the week’s worth of chores you had been procrastinating.

You hummed happily when that first gulp of frozen tequila goodness slid down your throat, and maybe you shouldn’t have chugged the whole thing but who fucking cared, it was hot. Time flew by as you downed those things like it was your fucking job, scrubbing your pots and pans and singing little songs to yourself.

Music started drifting through your open windows but you barely registered it even as you started singing along because it was Queen and how could you not.

It was the third time you had filled that margarita machine and you were feeling fantastic, dancing around your kitchen as you continued cleaning your dishes. Whoever was playing music was still going strong and you began belting when they started doing Seven Seas of Rhye.

“You are mine, I possess you, I belong to you foreveeeEEER!”

“Hey, Y/N!”

Your badass high note devolved into a shriek and you turned to chuck the cup you were holding at the intruder on the fire escape, cursing when you saw it was Colin. He managed to duck out of the way at the last second with a muttered fuck and you sighed as you watched your mug sail over his shoulder.

“Fuck, Shea, that was my favorite mug!” You pouted, stamping your foot a little and taking another gulp of your margarita. “What the fuck are you doing on my fire escape?”

He gave you a stupid cocky grin as he watched to try to lean on one hand on your counter and almost go down when you missed it at the last second.

“Are you drunk, honey?” Fuck him for calling you honey, that wiley asshole. “We could hear you singing from the roof.”

“I’m just a little buzzed.” You hiccupped. “Who’s we?”

“My band.” He crawled into your apartment and caught you when you tripped over your own feet again, still grinning at you like an idiot. “The ones you were singing along with.”

“That was your band?” You had never realized how blue his eyes were. “You guys sound great!”

“Yeah, you sound pretty good yourself.” He grabbed the cup you were holding and gave it a sniff, coughing a little before he set it on the counter. “Maybe you should come hang out with us instead of drinking what I think is blended jet fuel and ice all by yourself.”

“If I’m gonna hang out with you guys I think I should bring a pitcher of margs.” He was really fucking pretty, had you noticed that before? “Don’t wanna be a bad hostess.”

“Oh, baby, you’re wasted.” He tucked a stray lock of hair behind your ear and you felt your chest flutter a little bit. “No more margs for you. Come sing with us while you sober up. No, no.” He pulled you back when you tried to crawl out the window and started dragging you towards your door. “Ladder doesn’t really seem like a good idea right now, let’s take the stairs.”

You tossed your head back as you laughed, slapping his chest while you leaned heavily on him and let him guide you through the hall and to the stairs to the roof. Those were some firm pecs, you were a little marvelled at the way your palm just bounced right off so you slapped it again.

“Wow.” It was like your hand was moving independently from your brain as you gave him a pretty brazen squeeze. “Your tits are fantastic, Colin.”

“Holy shit, Y/N!” He was laughing hysterically when he shoved the door to the roof open. “Your drunk game is on point sweetie. Guys, this is Y/N, the killer vocals you heard from downstairs. She’s a little tipsy.”

They introduced themselves and you promptly forgot all of their names, your hand trailing down Colin’s chest until you could press it against his abs. This was getting weird, it’s not like you hadn’t seen him naked before. But seeing and touching were apparently two very different things.

“We still doing Queen, boys?” You said, finally tearing your eyes away from Colin after poking him in the bellybutton and grinning when he made a noise like the Pillsbury doughboy. “Cos I’m good with whatever.”

“What about some Journey?” He slung his SG over his shoulder and watched you carefully as you grabbed the mike one of his bandmates was handing you. “You wanna sit down, hon?”

“Don’t call me hon, sweetheart.” You teased, giving him a wink and tapping the mike a couple of times. “I’ll be fine. Journey feels a little basic but ok. Faithfully or Lovin’ Touchin’ Squeezin’?”

That grin he gave you should not have been affecting you like this, maybe you did have too many margaritas. The bassist started playing the opening riff to Lovin’ Touchin’ Squeezin’ and your grin got even wider, your hips moving to the beat as you kept your eyes on Colin. You laughed happily when he joined in with the guitar part, joining in after the piano had done its thing and losing yourself in the music.

He could not take his eyes off of you, he was pretty sure you’d never been this fucking cheerful around him before. Not that you were especially grumpy or anything, or that your typical dry wit didn’t immediately endear you to him. But seeing you with that goofy grin as you sang every fucking Journey song they had in their roster until the sun set was not helping the already prodigious crush he had on you. 

Now the two of you were sitting on the couch he had dragged up there months ago and watching his bandmates pack up their gear, saying goodbye to each of them as they headed down the stairs and left you two to lean against each other and sigh happily. You had your legs flung over his lap as he plucked at his guitar strings lazily, kicking your feet slowly and leaning back on the sofa as you watched him closely and sipped on a bottle of water.

“You ever do any actual performing, honey?” He asked, his fingers running over your calf absentmindedly. “Cos with that voice you could probably line up some gigs.”

“Just karaoke.” You murmured. You were definitely sobering up now, but you were still hyper aware of his hands on your skin and it was giving you some feelings you weren’t totally sure about. “Lemme see that thing.”

“What?” He gave a little huff when you grabbed the neck of his guitar and pulled it into your lap. “Baby, do not tell me you play.”

“I mean, it’s been a little while, but I think I remember a couple chords.” You gave him another grin and his chest started to hurt.

“Jesus, a couple chords?” He laughed to cover the absolutely filthy sound he almost made when you started playing, it was like he had made you on a computer. “Honey, that’s Led Zeppelin.”

“Yeah, but it’s easy Zeppelin.” You teased, turning your body so you could lean against his chest and not missing the low rumble you felt when you tucked your head against his shoulder. “It’s Coda.”

“Uh-huh.” Being this close to you was doing something to him, he suddenly had the overwhelming urge to smell your hair. 

“Why haven’t we slept together, Col?” Fuck it, you might as well do this.

He choked on the water he was drinking, turning his face so he didn’t spit it all over you as you stopped your playing and grinned at him.

“I seem to remember giving it a good try when you moved in.” He managed to get himself under control and turned his face back to you. “But you said you had a rule about not fucking people who live in the same building as you. Something about not shitting where you eat.”

“That’s about sex with coworkers.” You said, scrunching your face up as you tried to remember what your exact justification had been.

“Which is what I told you.” He tried to scoot away from you but you followed after him. “To which you replied, ‘doesn’t matter, not gonna happen’.”

“Huh, that seems awful short-sighted of me.” You scooted closer again and this time he let you. “C’mon, we’ve fucked almost everyone else in this city, we’d have gotten to each other eventually anyways.”

“Jesus, what a romantic sentiment.” He was trying to focus real hard on his softeners, but they weren’t working with you squirming against him like that. “You really want to do this?”

“I mean, I think we’d enjoy it.” You set his guitar aside and turned so your chest was pressed to his. “It’s not like we’re gonna catch feels, or anything. Just gonna see what all the fuss is about.”

“Right.” Maybe this would get his little crush out of his system. “Let’s not do it on the roof, though.”

“God, no. My place?” You stood up and started heading towards the fire escape.

“Yeah, ok.” He watched you climb down to your apartment before sliding down the ladder after you like the damn frat boy he was.

As soon as he climbed in the window you were dragging him towards you, swallowing his tiny cry of surprise when you pulled his mouth to yours. His lips were unbelievably soft against your own, and when he opened up and stroked your tongue with his? 

Fuck.

“Shit, Colin.” You purred when he started trailing his lips down your throat. “I feel like maybe we should’ve done this sooner.”

“Yeah, maybe.” His voice was muffled as his mouth moved to your chest, one hand moving to hook under the neckline of your camisole and pulling on it until your breasts popped out. “Well fuck me. No wonder you know so much about fantastic tits.”

You laughed at that, arching into his face and grinning down at him as he buried his face between your tits and gazed at you through his lashes. Those stupid, long as all fuck lashes that were brushing against your skin as he mouthed at your soft curves. 

“Jesus, fuck.” You wound your fingers through his hair when he dragged his tongue over your nipple, tugging on it softly and guiding him further into your apartment. “God, you really know how to use that mouth of yours, sweetie.”

“Oh, honey, you don’t even know.” He teased, moving his face back to yours and lifting you to wrap your legs around his waist as he started carrying you towards your bedroom.  “You wanna find out, though?”

“You tease all the girls you fuck this much?” You nipped at his lips and grinned when he moaned into your mouth, reaching behind you to open the door to your bedroom. 

“Nah, that’s just for you, baby.” He cooed, giving you a quick peck on the lips before dropping you on the bed with a huff.

Every place his fingers touched sent a jolt of heat through your body straight to your core, your eyes never leaving his as he started kissing and nipping his way down your torso after pulling your cami over your head. He grinned against your thigh when you moaned after he yanked your shorts down your legs, sucking a soft bruise into your flesh before rubbing his face over your clothed core and inhaling deeply.

You throbbed under his lips as he pressed gentle kisses over the fabric that covered your mound, hooking your legs over his shoulders and trying to grind into him when he tugged at your panties with his teeth and let them snap back into place teasingly. His fingers skimmed up your legs until he could hook them under the band of your panties and drag them off you, sighing heavily when he settled back between your thighs and got a good look at you.

“Fuck, you’re so pretty.” He spread you apart with his fingers and flicked his tongue out to run over your slit softly, moaning when he finally tasted you. 

“I bet you say that to all the girls.” You ran your fingers through his hair and beamed at him, rolling your hips against his face when he sucked your pussy lips into his mouth with a low hum.

Colin chuckled into your cunt at that, pressing gentle kisses all over your soft folds before dragging his tongue over you in a heavy stripe. Your body reacted immediately when he reached your clit, your back arching off the bed and your legs curling around his neck as he repeated the same process but at a much slower pace. 

Two of his fingers slid inside you as he wrapped his lips around your clit and you keened, gripping his hair by the roots and tugging hard when he started stretching you open while his lips drove you wild. The rhythm of his suction and release matched the curling of his fingers inside you and made you want to scream, your free hand reaching above your head and digging hard into your pillow as your body tried to rise off the bed when he brought you right to the edge of your peak right away. 

“Col, Colin, oh fuck.” He felt like your thighs were gonna suffocate him but those sounds you were making for him had him past the point of caring about a silly thing like oxygen. “Oh fuck, I’m gonna come.”

Your whole body seized against his face as you let out a gorgeous fluttering moan, soaking his lips and chin in your release as he hummed with satisfaction into your pussy. He sat up when you finally released him, removing his clothes in a rush as he watched you pant underneath him and run your tongue over your lips. God, you were fucking beautiful, he couldn’t believe he’d waited so long to do this.

Before you had a chance to say anything he was hooking your knee over his elbow and thrusting into you, sheathing himself to the hilt in one smooth motion and releasing his breath in a thin hiss when he felt your satiny walls flutter around him. 

“Ah, fuck, you feel amazing.” He ducked his face to catch your lips with his before pulling back with a groan. “Shit, I forgot a condom. Uh, I’m clean, just got tested last week.”

“God, you’re fine sweetie.” You brought a hand up to cup his jaw and ran a thumb over his cheek in a soothing gesture. “Also clean and I have an IUD, so we’re peachy. I am a little mad at you though.”

“Yeah, why?” He wasn’t too worried, you were still grinning at him as he started moving his hips slowly.

“Well, Jesus, fuck, you’re big.” You almost lost your train of thought when he tilted your hips just a bit and his cock hit you deep. “I usually like to reciprocate oral, sweetie. I barely even got a look at what you’re packing down there.”

“You’ve seen it before.” He groaned when you wrapped your free leg around his hips and rolled your body against his.

“Just glances though.” You gripped his biceps and dug your nails in, biting your lip as he continued dragging his length over every inch of you at an agonizing pace. “And never hard.”

“Honey, there’s no way I’m pulling out for you to take a good look so you’re gonna have to make due.” He teased, grinding against your clit and grinning when your eyes fluttered closed.

“Fine.” You huffed, frowning a little before winking at him. “We’re switching then.”

“What?”

You didn’t answer, just giving him a cocky grin and gripping his hips with your thighs. One quick move and he was under you, a small sound of surprise leaving his lips when you were suddenly straddling his hips and grinning down at him.

“Oh yeah, that’s better.” You placed one palm on the center of his chest and curled your fingers through his chest hair as you rose up on your knees before sinking down again nice and slow, loving the low groan you felt reverberate in his chest when you clenched around him. “Good for you, Col?”

“Yes, yeah, s’ good.” He was completely mesmerized by you, his eyes trailing over your body as you arched your back and continued to ride him. 

The way he was reacting to you was making it hard for you to focus on what you were doing, his eyes soft and relaxed on yours and his bottom lip tucked between his teeth as he slowly moved his hips to meet your own. You could’ve lost yourself in those eyes if you really wanted to.

Shit, none of that.

His fingers started trailing up your sides when he fucked up into you suddenly and he lost it at the way your tits bounced for him, sitting up with a whine and nuzzling into your chest before wrapping his lips around your nipple as he started bucking wildly.

“Shit, fuck, Colin.” He was hitting your cervix with each punch of his hips and it was taking all your self control to not pass out from how hard he was railing you, wrapping your legs around him and dragging your lips over his jaw. “Baby, you’re gonna make me come again.”

“Yeah? Good.” He cupped your jaw and brought your face back to his, tugging at your lips with his teeth while he gazed into your eyes. “I wanna watch your face while you come.”

You kept your eyes open and trained on his, worrying his bottom lip with your teeth and resting your forehead against his as you felt a warm coil gathering in the pit of your stomach. It was like you were falling into those lust blown pools as he took you apart, your lips crashing against his as the coil snapped and you gasped his name into his mouth. 

The feeling of your entire body fluttering around him was too much, and he followed you with a low growl. He muttered your name under his breath as he spilled his cum inside you, holding you close to his chest and rubbing his nose against yours.

You fell on top of him when he collapsed back against the bed, the two of you laughing breathlessly as you tangled your limbs and molded your lips together before pulling back and gazing at each other some more. Both of you lost yourselves for just a beat, your chests heaving against each other’s before disconnecting and rolling off the bed in two opposite directions as you did your best to compose yourselves.

“I’d say you definitely earned all those screams I’ve heard coming from your apartment, Shea.” You teased, trying your best to lighten the mood and not dwell on the desire you had to ask him to spend the night. 

“Yeah, well I’ve always thought so.” He was avoiding looking at you as much as possible, searching the room for his clothes and fighting the urge to pull you back into the bed and snuggle with you. “Have you seen my converse?”

“Yeah, here.” You shoved his shoes at him after pulling an oversized tee over your head. “Well, I’ve got work in the morning, so…”

“Right, I’ll, um, I’ll talk to you later, I guess.” He shuffled towards your front door and pulled it open before leaning back to look at you one more time. “You can join us for band practice any time, by the way.”

“That would be great.” That smile you were giving him made him feel like his heart was going to break. “I promise not to be sloppy drunk next time.”

“Aww, drunk Y/N was pretty fun, but ok.” He winked at you then left in a hurry, slamming the door behind him. 

You fell back on your bed and ran your hands over your face in frustration, hating yourself for coming up with this stupid idea because now all you wanted was to have breakfast with that beautiful idiot tomorrow after sleeping on top of his chest.

“Goddamn it.”

Colin grabbed himself a beer when he got back to his apartment and chugged it, sinking into one of his barstools and considering the fact that he was absolutely not over his crush after everything the two of you had just done.

“Shit.”

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[hasufin]

Why are we NOT rioting in the streets?

On another forum I was explaining to Brit how Paid Time Off works in the USA. To wit:

In most USA companies, you get “paid time off” (normally referred to as PTO) which you can theoretically use for any reason; there is no separate pool for sick leave. It accrues by a certain number of hours per pay period, and you can roll over a certain number of hours from the previous year.

For example, I accrue a bit over 6 hours of PTO per pay period, for a total of 148 hours of paid time off - a hair short of four weeks of PTO per year. I am allowed to roll over up to 240 hours of unused PTO from the previous year. This does mean that if I am a new hire, and say get in an accident in my first few weeks on the job, I may not have enough leave accrued to handle my medical issues. I’ve certainly seen people get hired in January, get your standard winter cold, and come in to the office because they didn’t yet have enough PTO to take a couple of days off.

The rollover part may also seem rather odd, too: while I technically get four weeks of leave, in many jobs you’re strongly disincentivized from using it - my wife, for example, gets incredibly stressed if she has to take more than a day off, as it just means that her work will pile up in her absence and the more time she’s off the worse it will be. Many American workers simply never take a vacation of any length.

With some companies, you are allowed to take pay in lieu of PTO - if you have 50 hours of PTO banked, and you make say $25/hour, you can choose to get $1250 instead of taking the time off. But not all companies let you do that, and generally if you have more PTO banked than you’re allowed to roll over, that excess PTO just goes away.

There’s often an upper limit on how much PTO you can accrue, too - for example, I stop accruing at 400 hours. After that I don’t get any more time off per pay period.

We are generally obliged to bank a certain number of PTO hours in case of emergency, I don’t mean that a company tells you to make sure you have saved a certain amount of paid time off. However, you don’t want to need PTO for something and not have any. If you do, you may be forced to take unpaid time off, which can be exceptionally bad for your budget. I know of one woman who took so much time off because of a complicated pregnancy, her employer laid her off. Which, yes, sounds like it should be illegal but it is not (they did not lay her off for “being pregnant”, they laid her off for excessive time off.)

If you get laid off - which is slightly different from getting fired, in that it’s basically the company saying “Nah, this person didn’t do anything wrong we just decided to stop paying them” - you’re supposed to be paid the monetary equivalent to the PTO you have accrued. But! Most of the time companies require you to sign something saying you are “voluntarily” giving up that PTO so that you can get a mere two weeks of severance pay. This is basically illegal as fuck, but if you’re getting laid off you’re probably not the sort who can hire a lawyer and them to pay you, plus the cost of lawyers in the USA usually means that winning still leaves you losing money.

Lastly, companies can decide there are days which you must take paid time off - i.e., a company-wide vacation day - and that day is deducted from your PTO balance.

If this sounds awful, evil, and utterly ridiculous… it is. Back in the 80s, we in the USA were told about how hard the Japanese work, how high their productivity is, and so on. Japanese office culture created the phenomenon of karoshi, “overwork death”. But today… Americans work longer hours than even the Japanese!

Writing it out now, I’m kinda going “Uh… why aren’t we rioting in the streets?” and that’s just one of the awful aspects.

But, thinking about it, I see why. At the time it seemed like an improvement. You see, back when, everyone got the same amount of sick leave (and you could “donate” your unused sick time to a co-worker, which is a whole ‘nother flavor of awful) but the amount of vacation time you got was mostly based on seniority. For example, back in 2001 I only got I think two and a half weeks of vacation. I would also have to schedule that vacation months in advance, pending managerial approval. Yet here I was with three weeks of sick days which I would not use because I was in my early 20s and healthy.

This led to what came to be known as “sanity days”. You know the trope: someone calls in sick so they can go to a baseball game, and they notice their boss also called in sick to go to the baseball game.

Anyway, pretending to be sick was the only way most people could just take a casual day off. It involved lying, invited scrutiny, and could potentially lead to being fired. Plus many companies had a policy that to take sick days you’d need a “doctor’s note” - some only wanted one if you were taking more than a day or two, others any sick day meant you should see a doctor - which also discouraged people further from taking time off when they were actually sick.

So when companies switched to a “PTO” approach, it meant people could, without guilt, just say “Fuck it, I need a day off” or be able to stay home with a head cold and not have to do the rigamarole of going to a doctor only to be told “get plenty of bed rest and drink plenty of fluids”.

Each of these incremental changes were like that - companies relaxed the ridiculously controlling aspects but reduced workers’ options at the same time. We were so happy the handcuffs were being loosened, we didn’t notice the walls were closing in.

[creativeashproductions]

Back to the 118 // Evan Buckley

IN WHICH: Buck meets the firefighter he replaced as the reader transfers back to the 118. The reader never expected to fall for a co-worker the first day back at the 118 after two years spent at the 155 in Los Feliz.

Warnings: Swearing, sickness, hospitals, health issues, pregnancy, angst and a shit ton of fluff

Words: 5.9k

A/N: So this is obviously a modern au for jatp to fit in the 911 universe. To make this work, Buck replaced Reader instead of Tommy after many failed probies. Eddie then later replaced Tommy.

TO BE TAGGED SEND AN INBOX/ASK PLEASE!

Masterlist

Your e/c eyes scanned the outward appearance of the first firehouse you’d worked at fresh out of the Academy. The place that had become a second home from the increased tension-filled house your parents still lived in. A place you had escaped as quickly as you could for a dream career. A career your parents hadn’t been proud of in the beginning, with the danger that came with being a firefighter paramedic.

“You the new recruit?”

Your eyes fell from the building to the male individual standing near the open bay the engine and ladder truck both used. The male in question must have joined the 118 after you transferred to the 155. The stranger towered at least six feet minimum with blue eyes and short blonde hair with the slightest wave.

“No-”

“Flint!” The excited voice of the only other female paramedic called out. You only saw dark navy before you were pretty much tackled.

Hen and Chimney had equally taken you under their wings when you initially joined as a rookie. You’d been the second female firefighter-paramedic at the 118 and the youngest by far. As if you’d summoned him, you felt the arms of Chimney sandwich you against Hen.

“Flint?” The stranger parroted, blinking his eyes at the rather unusual scene of Chimney and Hen wrapped around an unknown girl.

“What are you doing here?” Chimney questioned, stepping back. Hen scoured your entire form for any differences that had occurred.

“Y/N decided to come home,” Bobby spoke from a few feet behind the reunion with the beaming smile on his features. His lips pulled into a smile directed at the first recruit he’d taken on his first year at the 118.

“Bobby!” You grinned, meeting the father figure in the middle of the distance between you two. Bobby wrapped you up in his arms tightly, a certain lightness cocooning the Captain as he took in his friends.

“You’re back here?”

“Everything is squared back at home now, thankfully, and while I loved working with the 155, it wasn’t home. This will always be home.”

“Buck, this is Y/N Patterson. She worked her first two years with the 118 before transferring to the 155 in Los Feliz. Y/N, this is one of our newest members, Evan Buckley.” Bobby gestured towards the previously nameless firefighter.

“Who would leave the 118?” Buck questioned, unable to come up with a valid reason to leave the family at 118.

Buck’s opinion didn’t stand with his only workplace after successfully becoming a firefighter solely was the 118. Never had he worked in another firehouse. He’d been a fire marshall and volunteered his time in the Austin wildfire, but he always came home to the 118.

“Family issues.”

2018, Firehouse 118, Los Angeles

A fresh-faced, albeit dirty from sweat and soot, jumped down from the engine truck’s high steps. The synchronized slam of doors sounded from your colleagues and friends Hen and Chimney. All three individuals famished for the casserole Bobby had premade during the slow morning.

“Baked Mac n’ Cheese.” Tommy breathed from his position by the driver side. Tommy Kinard was a stoic man towering over six feet. He was always a gentle giant after you’d bonded after a hard call.

“Clean up, and I’ll have it in the oven. It’s Chimney’s time to make the salad and Flint’s turn to set the table.” Bobby spoke with barely a glance to the ground ahead of him. 

Your Captain jogged towards the stairs, whereas his team made their way to the locker rooms for a well-deserved shower. You and Hen split away from Tommy and Chimney to the women’s locker room that had gotten an upgrade.

Well, before you joined the Academy, the locker room had been used as a glorified game room, all thanks to the misogynist Captain from hell. Hen often had over the years mentioned how lucky you got with Bobby being your first Captain.

“Chimney better not put those onions like he did last time.” You spoke from under the stream of warm water. Nothing beat the warmth of a shower near the end of your shift erasing the evidence of your job.

“Man needs to learn the complimentary salad to the main dish.” Hen piped up from across the shower room.

You and Hen had both showered and redressed in a fresh uniform in under five minutes, the dirty one placed in a laundry bag. You’d managed to beat the boys to the upstairs by a few seconds. Enough to set half of the able before Chimney began to making his salad of choice.

“Looks great, Cap.” Tommy complimented the gooey homemade pasta Bobby religious made every third Thursday. He alternated between pasta recipes with the odd new recipe every once in a while.

“What are you waiting for? The bell?” Bobby quipped to the unmoving bunch of hungry individuals. His words started the boisterous meal time preceding the end of shift.

“So, we’re halfway through dinner and Amber-” Your phone interrupted the disaster date Tommy had begun telling. He continued as soon as you waved him to go ahead while you took the call.

“Hello?” You breathed into the phone.

“Hi, sweetheart.” The warmth infused in your mom’s voice soothed the ruffled feathers from the call you’d come back from, “How are you?”

“I’m good! We just finished eating. My shift is almost over, and I’ll have to go straight to the store for groceries-”

“Y/N, we found him.”

The him was easy to figure out given your brother had run away from home three months prior with only his dreams in mind. You’d spent most of your off time, sometimes even during shift out on a call, to scan the environment for Luke. You became a regular in questioning hospitals and homeless shelters.

“Where was he?”

“His band had been about to play at some big venue last night.” Mom’s word choice concerned you. Her voice dripped with sadness instead of the typical disappointment and annoyance on anything to do with Sunset Curve.

“Mom, what’s going on?”

“A few nights ago, the boys got hotdogs-”

“Streetdogs.” You interrupted with evident anger in your tone at the mention of those death dogs Luke consumed. You can’t even give a number to how many times you had told him how unsanitary and dangerous the food is.

“Something was wrong with the food. They got ill fast. Alex and Reggie are being kept for observation but will be found with a few days of rest.”

“What about Luke?”

“He tried to call 911; he was weak and fell. Y/N, he hit his head. He’s in the ICU in a coma.” Emily Patterson’s voice cracked as soon as she acknowledged the current state of her youngest child.

The colours of the world dulled as soon as your mind clicked that Luke was in the hospital. Your little brother had put himself in danger all because he had a big dream. Your mind flashed through your life growing up with him.

You remembered talking to your mom’s growing bump when she was pregnant with Luke. You remembered five-year-old Luke unable to settle unless you sang to him. Your voice was nothing special, but it soothed the little boy when he had a nightmare. You could vividly recall teaching Luke how to play the guitar when he was thirteen; the brunette a complete natural at it.

“What’s his prognosis?”

“Too early to tell. The doctor is hoping Luke will be in a general room after tomorrow if the swelling goes down. I wanted you to know as soon as possible.”

“How’s Dad?”

Emily hesitated from her position by a hospital bed. Her brown eyes carefully scanning the male sleeping soundly in the bed.

“Mom?”

“Your father had a heart attack last night. That’s why I haven’t been able to tell you sooner. He’s currently sleeping, but he’ll have a barrage of tests later today-”

“I’ll be there as soon as my shif-”

“No. Don’t drop anything. I can keep you up.”

“Excuse my language, but there’s no way in hell I’m staying away from my family. I’ll take a few days off. I’ll see you in a couple hours.” Your thumb tapped the red circle on the bottom of your screen.

The 118 didn’t bother pretending they hadn’t been watching your form during your phone call. Bobby felt like something had drastically changed in a few minutes you’d been busy on the phone.

“Everything okay?” Bobby inquired from his position at the kitchen sink. His hands in the sudsy water to scrub the empty pan.

“My brother and my father are in hospital. I’m gonna need some days off.” You informed your boss with a look of utter defeat coating your expression.

Those few days transitioned to transferring to the closest firehouse to your childhood home and the hospital. The medical bills from both your brother and father had begun to overwhelm your mother with the current single source of income. Emily didn’t ask you for anything, but you started renting the home you’d bought for extra money.

It was a silent agreement that you paid rent as a cover to helping with the bills piling up.

Present Day, Firehouse 118

Buck followed behind the welcoming group to the girl that seemed larger than life. Buck was impressed by the sacrifice you’d made for the good of your family. You’d willingly given up the family of the 118. Buck didn’t know if he could do the same.

“Welcome back.” Hen cheered on her guidance to the heaven everyone called the kitchen. Your department issue duffle bag dropped out of the wall on the top level.

Your eyes zeroed in on the spread of your favourite foods prepared by the only person aware of your return. It was only one look of gratitude towards the father figure before everyone dug in.

A few changes had occurred since you’d last sat at this table. Tommy Kinard had left the 118 for the 217 shortly after your departure. He’d been replaced by the ready to impress Buck. One thing that hadn’t changed was the delicious food Bobby made.

Your eyes found the sole empty chair at the long table, “Didn’t you say the house took on two new recruits since I left?”

“Buck took your position when you left. We had a revolving door of firefighters before Buck permanently joined.” Chimney supplied with a mouth full of lettuce and grated carrot. Hen whacked his arm for his lack of manners.

“You’ll meet Eddie on the next shift. He took the day off. It’s his son’s first birthday since his mom died.” Bobby informed you with that pinched wrinkle between his eyebrows, “He joined after Tommy left.”

“Well, I can’t wait to meet the entire team.” You replied, looking past to the circular table behind Bobby’s spot. Sam and Ryan both waved happily upon catching sight of you back at your unspoken seat.

You listened intently as Hen shared the changes Denny had gone through in the time you’d been away. Chimney was ecstatic to point out the faint scar on his forehead.

“You had rebar go through your skull, and you’re completely fine?” You questioned, floored by the pure luck Chimney had.

“Oh, it was nasty. Went in from the back of the skull to the front.” Buck spoke enthusiastically, recounting the scene. Chimney deadpanned a look at his younger coworker, “Oh, sorry.”

“It’s like you never had it happen.”

“Doc was shocked at how positive the outcome and healing was. I was back at work within a month on light duty. I beat my record getting in my turnout gear.” 

“And yet my little brother was comatose for two months.” You grumbled under your breath. None of the people could make out the words, but the grimace on your face was enough to show them it was personal.

In true 118 fashion, the bell rang throughout the firehouse with the disembodied voice declaring the type and location. Yoru e/c eyes found Buck climbing into the driver’s seat where Tommy had once commandeered. It was odd not having the man who’d became an older brother to you.

“How’re your parents?” Hen questioned, sitting diagonally from you. Her fingers repositioning the radio on her chest.

“Dad’s recovering pretty good. Mom’s started attending her knitting club again.” 

Buck’s eyes raised to the rearview mirror to meet yours in interest, “What happened?”

“Uh...my dad had a heart attack a couple years ago. He took a long time to recover with the further stress that caused it.” You piped up, understanding the news would come out at some point, “My little brother was in an accident that left him in a coma. Life was just as messy after he woke up.”

“He’s okay?” Chimney questioned, “I know we’ve never met them, but it really gutted you.”

“Well, physically, he’s fine, but emotionally he’s upset. He was in a band, and when he came out of the coma, he found out some devastating news.” You continued to explain, but unfortunately, or maybe, fortunately, you’d come to the scene.

It was a little known place most teenagers discovered as a hang out spot just on the edge between your county and the next. The location was the infamous spot of cliff jumping; you knew because this was something you’d recklessly done in high school.

“He’s over here!” A blonde male of average height called from the edge of the cliff. His blue eyes were bright even from this distance, matching the detailing on his swim trunks.

Surrounding the edge with the boy was a group of teenagers his age, all in different versions of swimsuits. You found the scared brown eyes of a beautiful girl you vaguely knew from the few shows of Sunset Curve you had watched. Her dark blonde hair plaited out of her face. Her face clicked as Carrie Wilson, Bobby’s sister or cousin.

You jogged towards the edge of the cliff to look over. It was easily between fifteen to twenty feet from the edge of the cliff to the water. You recognized Hen crouching by your side, looking at what you were looking at.

On the rocks was a prone body of a teenage male with bruises already forming on his face from where you could see. His thick shoulder-length hair laid still half in the ponytail and around his head.

“Head trauma.” You murmured to Hen, scanning from a distance, “I can’t tell much from this height and angle.”

“Either a broken tibia or fibula. Spinal injury is definitely a concern.”

“Okay, his name is Willie Young. He’s eighteen years old. His sister Kayla was dared to jump off by doing some kind of flip. Willie took her dare and didn’t jump far enough or tripped over a rock.” Bobby listed having been talking with the group of teenagers all shook up.

“I can rappel-” Buck began to speak before you cut him off firmly.

“It would take too long, and the angle is difficult. Nobody rappels down it; the cliff isn’t stable enough. It crumbles pretty easy, and the unofficial name of this cliff is Devil’s Dive.” Your eyes found Carrie’s tear-filled once and the utter devastation in who you pegged as Kayla.

“How do you know that?”

“Because I’ve jumped off this cliff for years as a teenager. You’re looking at the resident champion of self reckless endangerment at Devil’s Dive.” 

Hen, Chimney and Bobby each stared, shocked at your revelation of stupid teenager decisions.

“Then how are we gonna get down there,” Buck questioned, staring at the unconscious teenager lying on the rocks.

“Easy, I can jump from here into the water and climb onto the rocks to where Willie is. I have the experience of how and where to jump safely.” You spoke to your Captain with complete confidence in your abilities, “You can lower down the kit, radio and backboard by a rope. There’s a mansion beyond the trees that you can ask to borrow a boat from the owner. He’s eccentric and questionable but nice enough.”

Bobby nodded his head to your plan. You unbuttoned your uniform shirt to strip down to the department t-shirt with the emblem on your chest and across your back. You kept the boots and emptied your pockets of anything. The butterflies fluttered in your stomach at the height of the cliff you hadn’t jumped from in years.

“I’ll jump where-”

“Excuse me?” You scoffed at Buck’s assumption he could follow you.

“You’ll need another pair of hands to roll him on the backboard. I don’t have anyone waiting for me at home. This is kinda what I do. Bobby cleared it already.” Buck shrugged with a half-smirk on his handsome face.

With a roll of your eyes, you quickly gave Buck a rundown on how to jump correctly before you tossed yourself off the cliff. The cold water momentarily shocked your system as soon you submerged under the water. You swam to the surface before swimming towards the rocks. Willie hadn’t moved an inch.

“Whoa! That was so cool!” Buck cheered once he’d appeared on the surface of the water, “No wonder you used to do that!” 

His excitement both annoyed and amused you, “Eh. I was just an idiot kid who thought they were invincible.”

The two firefighters lifted themselves onto the rock formation, where blood stained the rock. While Buck retrieved the backboard and essentials from the rope, your hands moved across Willie’s body, checking for breaks. You caught the c-collar Buck tossed without looking. You quickly but gently put the collar on Willie.

“Hi, Willie. My name is Y/N, and I’m a paramedic. I’m gonna check you over for injuries.” You informed the teenager closely. You’d only just opened his eyes to flash a light on them, “Buck let Bobby know Willie’s pupils are reactive to light and the same size.”

“Got it!” Buck called out from the open medkit, “I’ll splint his leg.”

“W-what happened?” Willie wheezed sluggishly. His brown eyes were unfocused.

“You got hurt trying to jump off the cliff. You’re in good hands, Willie. I’m a paramedic with the Los Angeles Fire Department. This is my coworker Buck.”

“Kayla?”

“Perfectly safe, but you did give her a scare. Willie, can you feel this?” Buck questioned, gently touching his right foot. Buck and you both gave a sigh of relief as Willie confirmed he felt it.

 “Okay, we’re gonna roll you on to the backboard. On three: one, two, three.” You counted before rolling Willie on his side with Buck. Willie’s cry echoed around the surrounding as you settled him on the board.

“Need a ride?” Chimney asked as a very nice boat floated towards the three people on the rocks. Hen and Bobby helped load Willie onto the boat, “Mr. Covington agreed to let us use the boat if we don’t get blood on the seats.”

“Can you call my boyfriend?” Willie sluggishly asked when he was loaded into the ambulance on the cliff. Kayla sliding into the seat in the back of the ambulance with their items.

“Alex is meeting us at the hospital.” Kayla told her older brother, “You absolute idiot! You should have just let me jump!”

“And let you be in the back of the ambulance? Dad would kill me if I had let you do it.” Willie scoffed. Their conversation was silent as Chimney and Buck closed the back doors of the ambulance.

Bobby, Buck and you climbed into the fire truck to follow the ambulance to the closest hospital. Hen and Chimney rolled the gurney to the doors with Kayla hot on their heels. You’d just turned to head back to the truck when you saw three teens loitering near the entrance.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” You grumbled, marching away from Bobby and Buck to the teen who was supposed to be in class.

Luke had been forced into private tutoring to catch up to his friends in his grades, meaning every afternoon. The watch on your wrist confirmed Luke was definitely supposed to be with his tutor at the community centre.

“Luke!” You shouted, stomping right up to the wide-eyed teen.

Luke’s Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat as his older intimidating sister caught him like his hand was in the cookie jar. You didn’t give Reggie or Alex a second look while you gripped Luke’s ear to tug him away.

“Ow!” Luke whined from the angle you dragged him at.

“What the hell are you doing across the city? You’re supposed to be in your session that our parents are paying a great deal for.” You snapped, crossing your arms in your wet t-shirt.

“We need every chance we can to-”

“Make it big in the industry.” You parroted the past discussions on Luke’s dream as a band, “Do you remember how I got mom and dad off your back? An agreement that you finish high school on time. Not dropping out.”

“So many musicians have dropped out! Green Day’s frontman dropped out his senior year to focus on the band. Several others like Elton John and Kurt Cobain!” Luke enthused, gesturing with his hand to emphasize his words.

“Luke.” You warned, “It’s either catch by with a tutor with some time dedicated to your band, or it’s a military school.”

Luke’s hazel eyes minimally widened, “They would-”

Your stoic expression stayed the same as the energetic seventeen-year-old bounced in his spot across from you. 

“There’s only so much I can do before you lose everything. I know you feel anxious after what all happened, but music isn’t going anywhere.” You reached to squeeze Luke’s hand in yours, “So, I’ll clear it with my boss to have you ride the bus to the station. You’ll have your tutor sessions with my supervision, so I know you’re attending.”

“Y/N!” Bobby called from next to the firetruck, “We gotta go.”

“I’m guessing the Alex that Willie is dating your best friend?” You questioned with one raised eyebrow. Luke nodded in response, “Let mom know you had to be there for Alex. She’ll let skipping your session go this once.”

“Thanks!” Luke chimed, lunging to hug you. Your mouth barely opened before he was racing towards a jittery Alex and a grinning Reggie.

Reggie lifted his arm to wave with his flushed cheeks a darker red colour. You found Reggie’s crush on you to be absolutely adorable. He was a friendly kid.

“He looks good for a kid who was in a coma not long ago.” Hen breathed as the teenager entered the ER with his best friends beside him.

“Oh, he healed quickly. He was crushed after he fully recovered from his head injury.”

“That was your brother?” Buck inquired, and he was just as focused on your features as he had since he first met you. 

“Yeah! He was in a coma for ten months when he was sixteen. He’s spent the last two years catching on on school to graduate with his friends. Well hopefully. He’s dead set on dropping out.” You heavily sighed, leaning your temple on the glass window, “He was supposed to be at a tutoring session. I’ll be chaperoning to make sure he goes.”

“If you need to have them at the station, send me a schedule, and I’ll make it work. Luke’s just as much family as you are.”

The rest of the shift was smooth sailing as Buck followed you around with the sole purpose of getting to know you. The friendship came naturally to the two of you. He didn’t hold back with you like he did with others. Fridays off became hangouts that varied from just Buck and you to spend it with Eddie and Christopher.

Everyone could see Buck had developed feelings for you and vice versa. Unlike the man Buck used to be, he was cautious. He wanted to do this right. And Buck did. With the help of Christopher, he asked you out.

Months Later

Buck’s eyes fluttered open in the dim lighting of your new home’s bedroom he often found himself in. Before, you had alternated staying at his apartment or yours before a significant change happened. Luke moved in to finish his senior year with the help of your tutoring, as agreed with your parents. That led to you giving up your former home, the one that coincidentally Buck’s sister Maddie had rented from you.

“Luke! You better be awake!” Your voice came from the main floor of the home. Your voice alone seduced the firefight to leave the warm sheets.

His bare feet pattered down the hardwood floor stairs into the kitchen coated in all different kinds of breakfast food. Waffles to imported maple syrup to bacon spread across the counter.

“Morning,” Buck grumbled, stepping up behind you to tug you against his chest.

Unlike Buck’s softer footsteps, your little brother tore down the stairs like a stampede of elephants. Luke wore a vintage band shirt modified sleeveless; you’d be getting a voicemail about dress code violations. The chains hanging off his black jeans.

“You have to hurry, Lu. Buck and I can’t be late. He needs to get to his apart-”

“I don’t see why he doesn’t just move in. He’s here almost every night. He helps buy groceries.” Luke’s hazel eyes stared at the plate he towered food on.

Buck raised one eyebrow in response, “You just moved in. You should be settled before we make-”

“Dude. Your lease is up in like a month; just move in already. No feathers will be ruffled. Besides, the band’s taking off now that Nick got his dad Ryan to check our music out.” Luke sprouted with a beaming smile at the good news his new band received.

After Luke had recovered from that coma, he’d woken up in a world where Alex, Reggie and Bobby, no Trevor, now continued the band. Then when Alex and Reggie couldn’t go on, the rhythm guitarist betrayed Luke. He stole every song he could get his hands on and proved successful.

“Ryan Evans, right? His sister’s some bigshot on Broadway? Sharpay, right?” You questioned recalling in the early 2000s the success of Sharpay and Ryan in some kind of Disney films based on them.

“You’re about to be the sister and brother-in-law of a certified rockstar.” Luke’s attempt at smirking made him look like a chipmunk with full cheeks of food, “I don’t need a ride. Alex’s picking me up.”

“Straight to school, Luke. You’ve got two weeks left before you can leave that behind.” Buck pointed his coffee cup in the direction of the passionate musician. Luke returned a smile of acknowledgement.

The kitchen was quiet as Luke shoved as much food in his mouth in such little time while you watched. In a flash, he’d stuck his dishes in the dishwasher before sprinting out to the van beeping continuously.

“Think we can have you moved in by tomorrow? Your one-bedroom place will be a little cramped for five people.” You simply spoke as you rinsed your coffee cup out. You could hear the wheels in Buck’s brain turning as he thought.

“Five people?”

“Yeah. Luke, Albert, me, you and baby Buckley.”

The entire home went completely still as the announcement bled into the house you’d made a home. One hand resting against the smoothness of your belly. That hand covered by the calloused one of Buck’s. His blue eyes gleaming in utter adoration and excitement.

“Baby Buckley?” Buck marvelled, turning you to face him with tears running down your cheeks, “You’re pregnant?”

“I am. I guess we’re giving Maddie’s daughter a cousin.” You grinned, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“Now I’m obligated to see your parents regularly, and I still grimace at the first introduction.” Buck winced, recalling the foot in mouth syndrome he’d developed.

Buck had never been as nervous as in this moment. Not when he had to tell his parents the first time he got kicked out of college. Or when his teenage self sat beside one of his flings waiting for the results of a pregnancy test. Not even on his first date with Abby. 

“You’ll be fine.” You soothed the anxious man standing by your side on the doorstep of your childhood home. The door opened, revealing Luke standing with a grimace, “Oh Mom, made you wear that.”

Luke had been stuffed into one of the only long-sleeved shirts he owned by your mother. It was a magenta maroon hued corduroy shirt and set off his chocolate hair perfectly. Apparently, your mother hadn’t been able to get him into a pair of pants that weren’t skinny, black or ripped.

“We’re meeting your boyfriend, not the damn Pope-”

“You wouldn’t be wearing that if the Pope was involved.” You retorted, stepping to tug the younger Patterson into your arms. The only thing you adored about your little brother was he never denied a hug. Physical touch is his love language, so he never went through a phase.

“Lucas, don’t let them freeze on the front porch!” Emily shouted from within the Patterson home. Luke rolled his eyes at his mother’s request.

“Luke, this is my boyfriend, Evan Buckley. Buck, this is my not so little brother Luke.” You swiftly introduced the most important males in your life.

Luke and Buck got along better than any previous partner you’d brought home. He got along with your parents really well. Even when he slightly embarrassed himself as the time came to go home, whether it was his place or yours. He kissed your mother’s cheek and shook hands with your father.

“No offence, but thank you for having a heart attack and a coma. If you hadn’t, I’m sure I would have never met Y/N.”

Luke snickered at Buck’s odd choice of words, as did your parents. A part of Buck dreaded the next time he’d see your parents.

The gentle press of lips against your cheek pulled you from your thoughts of the first family dinner. Despite the issues between Luke and your parents, they were great people and parents; Buck had felt like he finally fit in. Even with that awkward thankful he gave your brother and dad, he was family the minute Mitch and Emily saw the mutual looks.

“How are we gonna do this?”

“Well, as the pregnant one, I’ll carry the little Bean until it’s time for them to enter the world. Then we’ll-”

“I get that but with our jobs?”

You felt guilty at the dread of not getting to do what you love, but you were excited, “I’ll keep working as a paramedic. I’ll stay away from fires, and then I’ll go on mat leave. We’ll make this work, Buck.” 

Buck leaned down to rest his forehead against yours with his eyes closed, envisioning how life was about to change. Buck adored children. He had loved Christopher from the moment he’d first met him. Buck himself was a kid at heart. 

“I didn’t think I could fall more in love, but you continue to surprise me each time,” Buck murmured with that gorgeous smile that utterly melted your heart from the first time you saw it. Back when you tried to deny any feelings beyond friendship.

“We’re so lucky to have you, Evan Buckley.” You breathed as you leaned up to kiss him with as much passion as you could. Although it was mostly clashing of teeth with the matching wide grins on your face.

“This little girl is gonna be a heartbreaker but no boyfriends or girlfriends until they’re thirty.” Buck declared, tugging you into his arms. His blue eyes twinkling in the natural lighting.

“It could be a boy.”

“Or maybe neither. Boy, girl or non-binary, I’ll love them just as much.” Buck spoke once more.

Gideon Buckley was born in the early morning to the pride of his parents and extended family. He was a healthy solid 8 pounds with sparse dark blonde hair and the trademark grey-blue newborn eyes. You everyone but Buck and your surprise Gideon wasn’t alone. Grace Buckley followed her older twin brother eight minutes later.

You rested against the propped up pillows spent from the exhausting hours of labour, but it was worth it. The two tiny babies snuggled beneath the swaddling blanket concealing your bare chest. Skin to skin contact was absolutely the best part of being a parent.

“Did you steal a baby?” Chim joked upon entering the hospital room with Maddie in tow. Right behind them were your parents and Luke.

“I’d like you to meet our twins Gideon and Grace Buckley. Surprise!” Buck quietly cheered in the nearly silent room. Buck’s curated newly parents playlist gently playing in the background.

Mitch and Emily came closer to look at the little loves they proudly got to claim as their first grandchildren. Emily’s heart melted upon hearing Gracie coo in her sleep. Grace and Gideon’s fist pressed against each other.

“Congratulations.” Maddie breathed, bending to catch a peek at the twins’ faces.

“Luke. Would you like to meet your goddaughter and godson?” You questioned the nervous musician. The nineteen-year-old tiptoed his way to the hospital bed.

“I’m both their godfather?” Luke choked as soon as Buck gently transferred Gideon onto his uncle’s chest. 

“There’s no one else in the world I’d choose to help guide them in the right direction. You always found your way back onto the right path. You’ll do the same for them.” Buck answered with Gracie nestled on his chest.

 Buck was the first to hold them followed by you and then their godfather Luke.

Gid and Gracie, although unseen, had been in Luke’s graduation pictures and watched as Julie and the Phantoms signed with a record label. Where Gid was, Luke wasn’t far beyond; the special bond melted everyone. Likewise with Gracie and Alex.

Gid overall was a happy baby compared to Grace. Loved visiting the firehouse. Loved the people working with their father and previously their mother. For the entire first year of Gideon and Grace’s life, you stayed at home with the utter support of Buck.

“First day back.” Hen spoke from beside you on the bench in the women’s change room. As a fellow mother, she’d been watching your behaviour.

“I miss them. I feel guilty that I abandoned them-”

“Okay, your feelings are valid, but you aren’t abandoning Gideon or Grace. You’re teaching them that you can be a great mom while also being a badass firefighter. I was the same when I went back to work after we got Denny.”

“Do you ever wish you could be a stay at home mom?”

“I love Denny with my entire heart, but I couldn’t do that. I was meant to be a paramedic firefighter as much as Denny’s mother. Besides, I can see Maddie pushing in the double stroller.”

Your head snapped to see your sister in law beaming with the double stroller carrying Gideon and Grace. Maddie’s daughter sitting on the seat made for a toddler. Maddie and Chimney had come to a decision for Maddie to work part-time.

Hen watched as you bounded out of the changeroom in uniform to scoop the twins into your arms. In a split second, Buck was down the stairs cooing at the absolute loves of his life. His partner and two children.

Buck would forever be grateful for finding his way to the 118, where he found his true family. A place of acceptance, love, trust and loyalty. Buck found his place in the world, and that was beside you.

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[thefanficmonster]

Hey, I'm the 3word anon! I guess to make this easier, you call call me 📚🌻

I just wanted to say that you did an amazing job! I loved reading what you've done! You said that you wanted more words so here it is your next words: tradition, needle and tribute

Love, 📚🌻

I'm so glad you liked it dear 📚🌻 ! I absolutely love this challenge and I don't think I'll ever get tired of it hehe. Hope you enjoy this one too!

Freedom

Pairing: Rick Flag x Reader (Female)

Warnings: Swearing, Mentions of drug use, Mentions of injury Spoiler Free 😊

Genre: Romance, Humor

“Flag, I have someone coming on-board with you.“ Waller’s voice comes in through the radio of the jet colonel Rick Flag was about to take off with, taking the Suicide Squad on their newly assigned mission.

He rolls his eyes, engine of the jet roaring to signal it’s ready to lose contact with the ground and rise up into the skies - much like Rick, who’s already fed up with the Squad’s members who are explicitly annoying and pesky today, promising him a ton of headaches in the near future. With that in mind, these news Waller has given him so suddenly, he’s not particularly excited to welcome another lunatic on the jet. Another lunatic to deal with.

“Who the hell are you sending? Don’t you think my hands are already full enough?!“ He yells at the top of his lungs in order for his voice to overpower the engine’s loudness.

“I’m here to help you, you ungrateful piece of shit!“ This voice, familiar voice, doesn’t emerge from the radio, instead it’s coming from right behind him and is equally as strained as his due to the loud, ear-bleeding surroundings.

Before Rick can even comprehend the presence of another person, said person gets seated on the copilot’s seat, equipping a pair of headphones so the two can communicate without pushing their lungs to the brink of giving out.

“What the hell are you doing here, L/N?“ He asks, his eyes unable to hide even a little bit of the confusion that the girl’s presence has brought upon him.

Contrary to his seriousness and shock, the girl gives him a bright, almost teasing smile, “Oh come on, Flag. I have a soft spot for you, you know, I like helping you.“ She tilts her head ever so slightly, “And I don’t feel like giving Waller the pleasure of detonating this bomb at the back of my neck.“

“Thought so.“ He scoffs, watching Y/N’s movements out of the corner of his eye as she straps herself in. 

She rolls her eyes, cracking her knuckles before turning to him, deciding to pick up on this petty war, just to make matters worse for Rick and more amusing for herself, “Aren’t you gonna shoot me? I mean, it’s our tradition.”

Rick cringes, recalling the exact event - or rather events, plural - she’s referring to: the night he arrested her and a few others, all henchmen of the Joker. Unlike her co-workers however, Y/N put up one hell of a fight while those fuckers chose flight. Their decision didn’t get them far while hers led her to the hospital wing of the Belle Reve prison, a bullet in her side fired at her by colonel Flag. Seeing the report files on the altercation, Waller immediately knew the girl was something else and recruited her for the Suicide Squad.

Unfortunately, her first instinct when her eyes first landed upon the colonel was to pounce at him, despite her low chances of succeeding in her intentions considering there were guards and soldiers literally everywhere, all with guns ready to fire. Yet still, Flag was the one who shot her yet again, this time less dangerously close to fatal.

Yeah, she has a right to be pissed and a right to call it their tradition, but it’s also safe to say that their dynamic has improved. They went on to go on a few more missions together without any complications or unwanted altercations. Sure, there were snide remarks and petty comments here and there, but those could be considered compliments when compared to the shootings.

“When are you gonna let that go?“ Rick snaps, his eyes remaining fixated ahead while the jet slowly ascends, “I got you off the streets. I freed you from that psychopath. The last thing you should be is mad!”

There is a long pause between the two, leading Rick to sneak a glance at his co-pilot. She appears to be deep in thought, staring ahead much like he’s supposed to be doing right now. She doesn’t seem like she’s conjuring up a sarcastic response which would be totally up her alley, but oddly enough she seems to be genuinely thinking about what he said. He starts feeling a bit shitty for having snapped at her like that - she wasn’t completely wrong to keep rubbing it in his face, she did suffer two gunshot wounds from him, after all.

“I’m not mad.“ Y/N finally speaks up, not sparing him as much as a look, “I’m grateful. The Joker isn’t the only thing I was trying to escape. One half the day I was doing his dirty work, the other half I had a needle stuck in my arm or was out cold in a drug induced half-coma.“ This time she does turn to take in the expression change that’s happened on his face and she seems pleased with the shock and confusion she sees. “Bet you didn’t know that, did ya?“ Contemplating her next move for a second, she plays with the belts of her bulletproof vest and gear before seemingly deciding on what to do. Her fingers quickly undo the belts and buttons of the gear that’s covering her torso, removing the strong and dense protective material to expose the skin of her side where there’s a scar where she had to have surgery to get the bullet removed. Around the scar there’s a tattoo of a peculiar looking flower, masking the line as a part of itself, “I got that tattoo as a reminder of that night. A tribute to more than one freedom coming to me at once.” She quickly readjusts her gear, and slumps into the seat with a sigh of a deflating balloon. “No longer a slave, no longer an addict. Though, addicts are slaves too - slaves to our own brain’s dependency on a substance that’s destroying us.”

Rick is at a loss for words. He wasn’t expecting that, never did he think Y/N was an addict as well prior to being a henchwoman and then a prisoner. That’s probably due to the fact that she’s always been in a great physical shape, ready to take on the enemy whenever and wherever. “Damn, fucking hell, I’m sorry you had to go through that, Y/N...“ He really doesn’t know what’s there to say when he now feels even shittier than he did before.

He almost jumps out of his skin when he feels her hand on his bicep, “I would still be going through it if it wasn’t for you. In fact, come to think of it, I should apologize for pouncing at you like that when all you did was do me a favor.” She giggles quietly before adding, “But I won’t.”

He too allows himself a small laugh, “I wasn’t expecting you to.“

Of course he wasn’t, he’s come to know her well. And he also knows it’s nothing personal - Y/N is simply not the type of girl who apologizes. That he can stomach, but imagining his co-pilot seat unoccupied on the way back from this mission he cannot.

Damn it, Flag. God fucking damn you, you’ve done it again haven’t you, he asks himself, knowing the answer perfectly well already.

[closhelby]

HER. - Thomas Shelby

Smut

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Reader

Warning: it’s peaky blinders, with smut

Word Count: 2472

AN: this is my first time writing smut, please give me any tips pls, it’s appreciate. It’s probably shite.

::::::

She always was on his mind. The woman, that always read between the lines, always two steps ahead of him, and had an incredible eye for business. She had left him years prior, leaving for a top business school in London. they never had a title, a label on their relationship, but it wasn’t exactly a secret that they always, somehow, gravitated back to one another. Often people, especially Polly, would say that there was no way two people would be so alike, strong headed but only rarely clashed. 

However y/n’s degree had finished and she was coming back to Small Heath for a period of time before she was going to figure out what exactly what she wanted to do. Y/n was actually great friends with the Shelby family, since growing up with them, living just down the road, they practically lived together. Y/n was actually younger than Tommy, she was ages with Ada and John. They were in the same class throughout school, Ada and y/n regularly wrote to each other, updating each other on Ada’s eventful life as a Shelby still in Small Heath and y/n’s very exciting studying life in London. 

They had actually planned to meet up, for a nice and quiet drink at the Garrison on her return. The thoughts swirled in y/n’s mind as she approached the Garrison, it had just gone 6pm, and she knew as it was a Friday, she did have a possibly of bumping into her first, arguably her only love.  Pushing the thoughts to the back of her head, she pushed open the door to see a fairly crowded Garrison. 

“Ah, y/n, how was London?” Harry shouted, from behind the bar. Y/n smiled at him, walking over to Ada sitting in the back corner. “It was good Harry, nice to be back in this clear Birmingham air”. He chuckled slightly, “Whiskey coming up love”. 

Y/n nodded, taking a seat next to Ada, giving her a cuddle, “Unsure if ive missed this place or not” y/n laughed slightly, eyes scanning the pub, looking for the one man she questioned if she did want to bump into. The pair was throwing back drinks like it was going out of fashion, knowing they would both regret this in the morning. Apparently, Ada wasn't allowing y/n to go back home, and in fact y/n didn't have a home yet and wasn't willing to go back to her parents, so Ada was insisting that she stayed at hers until y/n found a suitable place. Y/n didnt put up a fight, despite them both being hot heads, and taking absolutely no shit from anyone, men or woman, y/n didn't argue. She was actually really thankful for her. 

They eventually stumbled into the house in the early hours of the morning, their laughs echoing throughout the silent house. 

::::

The sun caught y/n directly in the eyes, quickly awoke y/n from her sleep. Her head felt as though someone had been hitting her head against the floor multiple times. Y/n continued to lay there, turning away from the sun, trying to keep the contents of her stomach from getting sprayed all over her and the sleeping Ada. She made an attempt at moving, sat with her head in her hands as she was trying to give herself words of encouragement to get up and make herself something to eat. 

“Fuck sake, why do we do this to ourselves?” Ada moaned from behind her. Y/n scoffed, “ Your bloody idea”.

Quickly standing up, in hope she could get it over with quickly. The room continuing to spin, as she attempted to walk to the door. Ada following closely behind. 

They both sat slumped over the dining room table, as they attempted to sober up and embrace the oncoming hangover. John now present, laughing at the two dying woman in front of him. 

“Good night?”

“Always.” Ada grumbled.

Pol placed a plate in front of them, toast with jam, “Does Tommy know your back? 

Eyes falling onto y/n from every person in their, “No.” answering quietly. 

Attempting to change the subject, “Told myself I would start looking for a new job today, since I shall be staying here for a decent period of time.”

John raised his eyebrow, “Tommy’s looking for a new secretary.” A slight smile on his face, “You've got a good background, business and that”.

“hm, I don't think so Johny boy”.    

“Don’t say no too soon, your a good asset to the business.” Pol added. No one was ever in y/n’s corner more than Pol, they would bang heads sometimes, as neither of them would back down. But she accepted y/n was the only one that had the best interest for Tommy.

The front door closed, and there he stood, the room turning to face Tommy, silence filling the room, then he broke it, “Heard you were back.”

“Yeah,” she replied quietly.

“Well, you know where I am if you need that job, I’m sure you’ve already been told,” he spoke, cigarette hanging from his mouth, as he walked away from them and into his office.

Y/n let out a breath, as though she hadn’t been breathing the whole time he was there. Ada smiled at her, placing her hand onto y/n’s, “I’m just going to get ready for the day love,” and off she went upstairs. The boys getting on with their day, and Pol following suit.

Y/n sat collecting her thoughts while trying to tell herself to face her ex lover, who she was still so deeply in love with. She tapped on the door slightly, opening it before opening it, “hi”, seeing his eyes flutter onto her shot tingles throughout her body, his eyes quickly looking away

“You can start tomorrow if you wish, I need a few papers signed and sent tomorrow. I can get your contract drawn up tonight.” He spoke, his eyes still not lifting from the paper in front of him.

“Yes, that’s fine 8am?”

“8.45, shop doesn’t open until 9. And there are others to set it up, that’s not your job.”

Nodding, “I heard you have a new woman.”

At this point he did look up at her, “I heard you had plenty men in London,”

She laughed slightly, nodding before heading to the door, “none were ever a patch on you,” closing the door, leaving a smirk on Thomas Shelbys face.

The following day came around, as y/n got ready for the day. Putting on a formal black tightly fitted dress, flats and pin curled hair. A slight tint of red lippy, remembering it used to be Tom’s favourite. Assuming Tommy wouldn’t be at the shop at this time, she took a whiskey with her placing it on the desk infront of Tommy’s office. The place was silent, despite there being other employees now starting to arrive, something calming about the place, almost the calm before the storm, she thought.

The hour was now around ten thirty, and there was still no sign of Tommy. She had already finished the papers he had left for her on her desk. It wasn’t the usual small Heath lady, she was educated, and to a very high level. y/n was sat twiddling her thumbs, awaiting Tommy’s arrival to get other things done.

“Y/n. My office please,” his voice low, as he stood behind her. She stood up quickly, following him into the private room.

“There’s your contract, if you wish to have a read over it. I see you’ve finished the work I gave given you for the day.”

Y/n took the contract into her hands, scanning for any mistakes or anything to question. But he actually was paying her nearly double the rate of other staff, and just over that the London rate was, “you’ve done your research eh. More than London rates, impressive. The peaky’s are stepping up in the world” Y/n smiled at him, as she placed the documents on the desk, picking up his pen, and signing it. Y/n Y/l/n. Followed with today’s date. That was now it, she was a Shelby Co Ltd employee.

...

The days turned into weeks, spending time with tommy while no one else was looking was becoming a regular thing. She now had her own place, just doors down from the shop. He would regularly call her into the office, and discuss things that he would usually never utter a word about. It had always been that way with them, since they were little, he would confine in her, telling her all the issue and problems he was facing, both in his mind and with others. But it was also coming to her attention that he was still seeing Grace.

Later on in the day, the clock chimes 11pm, as y/n sat listening to the music that takes her back to a child, while sipping a whiskey. The knock of her front door bringing her out of her daydream, she picked up her handgun that she kept on her at all times. Growing up with The Shelby’s, she had to protect herself in someway. She kept it behind her, out of view for anyone who was in front of her, slowly creeping up to answer the door. She swung it open, gun clocked and pointed directly in the face of Thomas Shelby. Not wasted, but defiantly had a few.

“Ah, can never change a Shelby girl eh” He spoke, laughing slightly as she lowered the gun and he stepped inside. 

“Although, I’ve never been a Shelby girl, have I Tom?”

“Depends who you ask.”

She sighed, stepping in to the fire lit living room, “Drink?”

He nodded in response, and y/n began to pour him a whiskey, topping up hers and handing a full glass over to him. “Why are you here?”

He stepped over to her, the closest they had been together since before she left for London. He placed a hand on her back, pulling her head into touch his, their foreheads touching. The sensation ran through her body like the first time they had ever touched. He placed his hand on around the back of her neck, pulling her into him, his lips crashing onto hers. Their tongues intertwining with each others as the kiss started to deepen.  Y/n reached for his jacket, pulling it off his back, before making her way on to unbuttoning his shirt. Tommy pulled the bottom of her nightdress up, y/n only allowing the kiss to be broken to allow it to come over her head. 

Their lips syncing with each other once again as tommy took his now unbuttoned shirt off, moving onto unbuckling his trousers revealing his already hard length. He began to push her back onto the couch, untangling her lace thongs from around her legs. His fingers trailing over her already wet pussy, “Do it” y/n whispered as she pulled his face back up to kiss hers. 

He didn't even wait as he shoved his length into her. Their bodies rocked in sync together, “Tommy...” Y/n moaned, her fingers trailing down his shirtless torso. The stars were starting to align, the room was warm, full of love. It felt as though it was five minutes but in reality it was around fifteen all in.

Their breath shortened as y/n’s back started to arch as she came close to climax, “cum for me”. He spoke, looking at her directly in the eyes as he rocked her world. The love, chemistry, love and lust, all so very present just as it was back how they were before. Both of them moaning in pleasure, as they both came at the same time. The deep breaths and steamy windows showing the passion that had just unfolded. 

::::::::::::::::::::

It was a Friday evening, a week following the night of sin that taken place between Tommy and Y/n. They had still had the talks in private in the office, and on another occasion she was fucked bent over his desk after closing time. Y/n wasn't one to hide her feelings, it would always be present on her face so when it came to facing Grace in the Garrison, it wasn't hard to tell how y/n’s feelings were over her.  

Pol chuckled softly, clocking the glare Grace was on the opposite end of, “If looks could kill” Ada joining in on the hilarity. 

“She would've been killed 8 times over” Y/n replied, turning back to face the women. Whiskey in hand. 

“Feelings still there for him then?” Ada asked. 

“No, I wouldnt say so” y/n lied. 

“Cant lie to a gypsy woman love” Pol laughed, y/n begining to laugh with her when the doors open to reveal Tommy and his two bothers. Tommy’s icy blue eyes scanning the room, a slight smile shooting over to Y/n before approching the bar where Grace was, where he stood there for a good twenty minutes chatting away to her. 

“I cant take this anymore.” y/n looked over to Ada, who was rising her eyebrow while taking a sip of her drink. She was fairly close to them, and y/n being y/n liked to have a slight stir up now and again. She stood up, smile showing on her face as Pol and Ada laughed, watching her approach them both. 

“So, hows your little fling going?” she spok loud enough that Pol, Ada, Arthur and John could hear her. 

“Y/n” Tommy warned. 

“Who are you?” Grace questioned. 

“Y/N,” she responded, leaning herself against the bar, “The woman he has fucked behind your back multiple times this week.”

Pol snorted, almost chocking on her drink, “ I fucking knew it. Gypsy senses never lie.” 

“To be honest with you Grace, you had absolutely no chance when Y/N came back” Ada added. 

At this point, Tommy had moved y/n away from the bar, into the small room, “what are you doing?”

“You cant take the piss out of me, fucking me but then fucking her thinking youll get away with it.” she was pissed, and he could see it in her face. They had never spoke on their feelings toward each other. Everyone knew that it was always each other but there was nothing that compared to them, they always seemed to go back.

“I have always loved you but you left to go to London, I had people follow you. I knew what you were up to so I assumed you would stay down there, I assumed you had moved on.” He spoke, almost showing vulnerability.

“Oh I know. I can remember faces Tom. I think you forget I can see right through you,” she seethed, through her teeth, “what are you going to do about this?”

Tommy cupped her face, pulling her into kiss her.

“I love you.” He mumbled, feeling her smile into their kiss.

“I love you Tom,”

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

First Date

Summary: The reader accidentally sends an angry email off to a co-worker but winds up with a date instead...

Pairing: Landscaper!Dean x reader

Square: First Date

Word Count: 1,900ish

Warnings: language, fluff

A/N: Written for @spndeanbingo​​​​ . Enjoy!

_______

You yawned as you trotted out of the kitchen with a cup of coffee in hand down to your home office. You plopped down in your chair and got on your computer, checking your email with a tired hum. You saw an email from the facilities manager and sighed.

“Oh come on,” you said, rolling your eyes. “I’m work from home now, jackass. Refund my parking pass. That was like five hundred bucks.”

You growled and typed out an angry email in response, getting so fed up when you finished you knocked your coffee all over your computer.

“Shit!” you said, grabbing some tissues and moping it up.

You saw a sent message appear on screen and you shook your head.

“No. No. No, I didn’t send that. Recall, recall,” you said, shoving the tissues aside. It’d already been opened though and the recall failed, your jaw dropping. “No! I just moved into this house! I can’t afford to get fired.”

You grabbed your phone and decided to bite the bullet, trying to dial the guy when you got an email back.

As highlighted in my original message below, your refund will show up next month along with all other refunds to staff now working from home.

You hit reply and started writing an apology, praying he didn’t report you to HR.

I’m so sorry. It was an accident. I wrote it to express my frustrations and had no intentions of ever sending it. I’m deeply embarrassed, Mr. Winchester, and apologize once again.

You bit your bottom lip and waited a minute, getting a response back.

Thank you for your apology, Ms. Y/L/N. Seeing as today is my last day and it was a mistake, I see no reason to pursue this further.

“Ah, thank you, thank you,” you said. “Now let’s deal with this coffee.”

Two Weeks Later

“So what’s the damage?” you asked. The man in the flannel and baseball cap wrote up a tally on his clipboard before looking back at the house and yard again.

“Normally, for total lawn maintenance, that includes your weeding, trimming, spring and fall clean up, etc. for a lawn this large, you’re looking at around eighty a week,” he said. “But we’re trying to break into this neighborhood so let’s call it fifty a week. We get ten yards around here, we’ll knock it down to forty. How’s that sound?”

“Fifty for everything?” you asked. “Including the snow removal?”

“We’ll negotiate a separate contract for that but I’d call that about 350 for that season,” he said. “So. We have a deal?”

“For fifty bucks, you got a deal,” you said, shaking his hand.

“Perfect. I will have a contract written up and sent over to you this evening,” he said. He dug around into his back pocket and pulled out a business card.

“Super Natural Lawn Services,” you said. “Winchester.”

“Hm?” he said, writing something down on his clipboard.

“Name sounds familiar is all,” you said.

“Used to be in charge of managing the grounds at a local place until they decided to have their staff work from home. Ms. Y/L/N,” he said with a smirk. 

“Oh my…” you said, Dean chuckling. “I am so-”

“I like running my own business a lot better,” he said. “Besides, you apologized. We’re all good. We’ll get that contract straightened out and I’ll get a team over Friday morning to start on your landscape design.”

“I really am sorry, Mr. Winchester. I-”

“Y/N. It’s good. I promise. I’ll see you around, okay?”

You nodded and he headed back to his car, giving you a wave as he drove off.

Two Weeks Later

“Hey, Dean?” you called from your front porch. He poked his head up from where he was head first in a notebook, staring at the dirt edge around your house. “You want a drink? It’s really hot out.”

“I’m okay,” he said, sweating pouring off of him.

“You want to come into the air conditioning for a minute?” you asked. He was about to say no when he took off his hat and his hair was soaked with sweat. “Come on.”

“Alright. Just for a minute,” he said. He hopped up onto the porch and stepped into your foyer, letting out a sigh. “Okay, that’s nice.”

“You like lemonade?”

“Sure,” he said. He took off his boots and followed you to your kitchen, taking a seat at the table when you waved him down. You brought over a large glass, Dean gulping it down. “Do you have a minute? Now that your lawn is in good shape, I have a few ideas for landscaping near the house if I could pick your brain.”

“Sure,” you said. He flipped open his notebook and showed you a drawing, your eyes wide. “You drew that? It’s great.”

“Do you like that kind of style? It’s minimal upkeep but it’s not barren out there this way,” he said.

“I love it. How much does that cost?” you asked.

“It’s part of your weekly bill. I have a few other ideas in here you can take a look at and tell me which you like best,” he said. You flipped through the notebook with him, still liking the first one the most. “Alright. We’ll get that going for you then.”

“My neighbor was asking about you the other day. I gave her your name,” you said.

“Fingers crossed we get a bit more business around here then,” he said as he stood up. “I’ll get out of your hair now. Thanks for the drink, Y/N.”

One Month Later

You hummed as you sat on your front porch with your morning coffee, watching Dean across the street and walk around a yard with his team. They’d already done your yard for the week and you knew Dean was up to about six or so houses in the development. With a big stretch you glanced over to your car and saw something on the windshield. You got up and walked over, plucking off a note.

Found a problem with one of your plants. Rabbits were eating it. I’ll replace it later today.

You looked across the street just as he looked over. You gave a wave and he returned it before you headed back inside.

Four hours later you were getting home from the store to find another note stuck up against your front door.

Plant should be all good now. Enjoy your weekend.

“Hey,” you heard behind you and you nearly jumped out of your skin. “Sorry.”

“Hi, Dean,” you said. “S’alright. I got your note.”

“It was a simple fix,” he said. “I actually am looking for my work gloves. I either left them at your place or the Jones’ but I didn’t find them over there.”

“Are they black?” you asked.

“Yeah. You find them?” he asked. 

“Maybe they’re near my new plant,” you said, nodding your head. He looked over and they were on the grass beside it.

“Ah. That’s what I get for taking calls while working,” he said. He grabbed them and started to leave, pausing at the driveway. “Hey, Y/N.”

“Yeah?”

“You single?”

“Why?”

“Cause if you’re dating someone, I don’t think my odds of getting a date will go very far,” he said as he spun around. You smiled and leaned against the porch post. “Single?”

“Why would you want to date me? I was very rude to you once.”

“You were pissed about throwing money away for no good reason. Trust me, I got plenty of emails that day. You’re the only one that apologized. Plus you may have once told the grumpy guy in the cafeteria to go do a job that makes him happy.”

“You knew who I was when I emailed you, didn’t you.”

“Yeah. I looked you up at work. You were nice back then. You always offer my crew cold water if you’re home. I just like you,” he said.

“Pick me up at seven,” you said as you spun around. “You decide what we’re doing.”

“Alright,” he said. “I wouldn’t advise a dress and heels.”

“Now I’m intrigued. I’ll see you later then, Dean.”

“Yes you will, sweetheart.”

“Hi,” said Dean when you opened your front door just before seven. You laughed when he held out a packet of flower seeds. “They’ll go great in a planter on the porch.”

“Thanks,” you said. You put the packet inside and locked up, following him to his car. “So what are we doing?”

“I figured we could do something and grab a bite after if that’s okay?” he asked.

“Sure,” you said. “Were you thinking of a movie?”

“Hopefully it’s more fun than a movie,” he said. “Trust me.”

“Okay, that is the most fun I’ve ever had on a first date,” you said, Dean chuckling as you both turned in your helmets. “I did not even know there was go-karting in this town. Like really nice go-karting too.”

“We could come back sometime,” he said. “I don’t know about you but I’m starving.”

“Same,” you said. 

“Well follow me then,” he said, walking past his car in the parking lot and headed for the street. He took your hand and you walked across over to a diner, Dean walking the two of you inside and to a booth by the corner.

Twelve minutes later you had a double bacon cheeseburger with jalapenos in front of you along with a basket of fries and onion rings. You dug in, Dean smiling to himself as he enjoyed his own burger.

“Too much?” you said.

“Save room for dessert. They have out of this world sundaes,” he said.

“If it’s as good as this burger, I’m sold,” you said. “So what made you want to have a landscaping business?”

“I get to be outside, do some hard work but some mental work too. We’re doing pretty good for our first year,” he said. “I didn’t like my old job very much.”

“It sounds like this one is working out for you.”

“It is. Probably would have taken me longer to ask you out if I hadn’t sort of known you already but I don’t mind,” he said, taking one of your fries.

“You flirt with all your customers or just me?”

“Just you,” he said. “How’s it working out so far?”

“Pretty good. Want to go catch the music fest downtown after our meal? Main act comes on at nine,” you said. “Unless you’re not into rock.”

“Oh, sweetheart. You and me are gonna get along just fine.”

_____

[storiesforallfandoms]

just hold me ~ yungblud

word count: 2206

request?: yes!

“Could you write a fluffy yungblud fic? Like maybe the reader has been going through a tough mental health time, and he helps? 🖤” 

description: after a week that is mentally trying, all she wants is for her boyfriend to hold her

pairing: yungblud x female!reader

warnings: swearing

masterlist (one, two)

You know those weeks that just absolutely kick your ass? The ones that absolutely nothing is going right and it feels like nothing will ever go right?

Yeah, that was my week.

It started off by realizing that one of my assignments that I thought I had so much time to do was due that day, and I wasn’t even close to being finished. I tried to give my professor some bullshit reason to get an extension but she wouldn’t hear of it, and because I even tried to get an extension she told me she wouldn’t even take it late and marked the assignment as a zero. Then I got my schedule for work and found that they were starting to take shifts away from me. So many, in fact, that I’d be lucky if I was able to make rent and bills. Besides all of that, school was just kicking my ass in general. I was starting to fall behind in my classes but I was feeling so down about everything lately that I felt as though I couldn’t sit still to do any of my schoolwork.

I found myself hitting my breaking point after a particularly rough day at work. Customers were being more rude than usual and I had been run off my feet the entire day. I was clocking out for the day when my manager pulled me aside to talk to me.

“A customer complained about you,” she said, trying to keep her voice soft as she spoke. I knew my manager liked me enough, but she had this way of talking that always made her sound like she was angry.

“What?” I said. “When? For what?”

“Shortly before you clocked out. They were demanding to see the manager, so Julie came and got me and brought me to their table. They said you were being very rude to them and refused to serve them, and that you made Julie do it instead.”

I could not believe this.

I knew exactly what table my manager was talking about of course. It was a table of four - a man, a woman, and two teenaged looking kids. They were supposed to be my last table of the day before I was cut. I had only been there for maybe ten minutes before they started demanding a new server instead of me. They were asking me questions that I wasn’t too sure of about the food on the menu, and when I told them I could ask the kitchen so I could give them a proper answer, the man freaked at me and called me all sorts of awful names. He told me I was incompetent and he didn’t understand why the restaurant would hire someone who didn’t even know the “simplest of answers to simple questions”.

His poor kids looked so awkward over it. His wife basically ignored the whole situation and continued to look at her menu.

I had tried to remain as cool as I could but I could feel tears starting to well up in my eyes. I asked again if he wanted me to ask the kitchen about the questions he had, and he responded, “No, I want you to get me a server who can actually do their job.”

I got Julie, who had been working at the restaurant for roughly two years. I explained the situation to her and she told me I could get ready to clock out if I wanted to.

I guess between doing exactly what I was told by that rude table and finally getting the clock out, he had complained about me to Julie and to my manager and made up some stupid story to get me in trouble.

“Oh my God,” I sighed. “I swear to you, that is not the truth at all.”

“I know it’s not,” she assured me. “When Julie came to get me she explained the whole situation. Even if she didn’t, I’d know they were lying. You’re too nice and too kind to be rude to even an asshole table like them.” She sighed and gave me a sympathetic look. “But that gentleman was so furious that he demanded some kind of actions be taken. I told him nothing could be done besides maybe a note being put on your professional record.”

I didn’t understand what she was telling me at first, but when it dawned on me my heart fell to my stomach.

“No, no you can’t,” I said, trying to keep back the tears that starting to run down my face. “I wasn’t even rude to them, you can’t write me up for something I didn’t do.”

“And I’ll make a note of that in the write up,” she told me. “But for now it’s all I can do. You had a customer complain about you, it’s our company policy that we give employees write ups when we feel it’s the right thing to do.”

So she thinks it’s the right thing to to permanently stain your professional record, and to push you one step closer to being fired.

Before anything else could be said, I raced out of the doors into the parking lot. I covered my mouth to stifle my sobs until I got to my car. Once I was there, I placed my head against the steering wheel and began to sob.

I was there for at least 20 minutes because I didn’t trust myself to drive yet. I could barley calm myself down, but eventually I just wanted to leave. I didn’t want to risk seeing the asshole and his family leaving the restaurant, and frankly, I just didn’t want to be there anymore.

I started driving towards my apartment, but as my sobbing and shaking began again, I realized I didn’t want to be alone then. I came to a red light and quickly shot my boyfriend, Dom, a text asking him if it was alright if I went to his place instead.

His response came almost immediately. “Of course it’s alright baby! You don’t have to ask!”

I arrived shortly after and let myself in with the key he had given me. I threw my work stuff onto the floor, knowing I would feel guilty about it once I had completely calmed down. I made my way to Dom’s room where I knew he would be. As usual when he wasn’t recording or touring, he was sat on his bed watching Netflix. He turned to greet me with a smile, only for his smile to drop when he saw my face.

“Baby, what’s wrong?” he asked, starting to get up from the bed.

I shook my head and held a hand out, stopping him from getting up. As he laid back down, I took off the hoodie I had been wearing and my work jeans, which were now basically stuck to me with sweat, leaving me in just my t-shirt and my underwear. I climbed onto Dom’s bed and rested my head on his chest.

“Just hold me,” I said. “Please.”

He wrapped his arms around me and held me close. I began to sob yet again, thinking over all the bad that had happened to me this week. I felt so tired, both mentally and physically, and I just wished there was a way to take a break from it all.

Dom ran his hands up and down my body, trying to soothe me into some form of calm. Eventually, my exhaustion got the best of me and I fell asleep in Dom’s arms.

~~~~~~

Some time later, I woke up alone under the covers of Dom’s bed. I rolled over to look for my phone to check the time, only to find that it was nowhere to be found. It was dark outside, which meant it was still nighttime, and yet Dom wasn’t asleep next to me.

I was still in my t-shirt and underwear from when I had arrived to Dom’s, so the day before, unfortunately, wasn’t a dream.

I heard some sounds coming from the bathroom and got up to see if that’s where Dom had gone. Sure enough, I found my boyfriend knelt next to the bathtub, filling it with water so hot that I could see the steam coming from it.

“What are you doing?” I asked him.

He seemed startled when I spoke, and turned to look at me. “Oh no, I wanted to wake you when I had the bath ready for you.”

“Well, I’m glad I caught you, because that water looks way too hot,” I teased and reached around him to turn down the hot water and turn up the cold instead. “Why are you running me a bath at like...I don’t know, kinda late at night? And where’s my phone?”

“I have it with mine,” he responded. “Which is in a hidden spot, because you need to take a break from your phone.”

I couldn’t argue with him there. “What’s up with the bath then?”

“You always say that a hot bath helps you to relax after a hard day,” Dom explained. “And obviously today was a hard day, so I’m running you this bath and I have that gold bath bomb you like so much.”

“When did you get that? I haven’t left any bath bombs here in a while.”

“I bought it in case of emergencies.”

I smiled at Dom and sat on the toilet seat lid to watch as he finished filling the bathtub. He had me test the water before pulling me to a stand and helping to take off my clothes. Even though it wasn’t meant to be in a sexual manner, there was something extremely intimate about Dom pulling my shirt over my head and my panties down my legs.

I got into the water and sighed as my body sank down till the only thing not underwater was my neck. Dom got the gold bath bomb from under the sink and gave me the honors of dropping it into the water as that was my favorite part of bath bombs.

“Are you joining me?” I asked.

He smiled cheekily and began to undress. “That was my original plan, but I decided to wait and see if you wanted me to join.”

I sat forward, giving him room to slip into the tub behind me. Once he had settled himself, I leaned back against his chest. He wrapped his arms around me and began kissing my neck and shoulders.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked as his lips continued to trail over whatever bare skin he could reach.

I sighed. “Not really, but I guess the only way to work past it is to talk about it.”

I told him everything; about school, about work, about the asshole customer that fucked me over. He listened for however long I talked without interrupting. Once it was clear that I had finished talking, he spoke.

“That guy is a fuckin wanker,” he said. “I can’t believe people like that exist. You were just trying to do your job and he fucked you over like that.”

“It happens,” I said. “Hasn’t happened to me before today, but all my co-workers have stories of assholes who will complain to the manager for the littlest of things. We had someone complain once because their food didn’t look like it did in the picture on the menu and they wanted it for free. That’s usually all people want - free food.”

“I can’t believe your manager is going along with that,” he said. “Even if she makes a note that you did nothing wrong, that’s still looking bad on you.”

“I think they want to fire me,” I admitted. “That’s the only reason they would be giving me less shifts. They want to slowly get rid of me before they straight up fire me.”

“I don’t think they’ll do that, babe.”

“I think they will. I’ve probably done one too many things wrong and now it’s my time to get the boot. It happens so often that whenever someone gets a few less shifts a week we panic.”

Dom squeezed me a moment before kissing me behind my ear, sending a shiver down my spine.

“Well, if they want to fire you then we’ll look for a new job. You don’t have to stay there and take shit from assholes and let your managers treat you like dirt to keep the assholes happy. There’s hundreds of restaurants you could work at instead.”

For some reason, this thought hadn’t occurred to me.

“I’d like that,” I said. “But I don’t want to talk about it anymore, okay? I’m starting to relax, I don’t want to get worked up again.”

“Okay, baby.”

We were silent for a moment, just the sounds of the water shifting around us filling the room. I leaned my head back enough that I could look up at Dom. “Thank you.”

“For what?” he asked.

“For...for being you.”

He smiled at me and kissed my head. “Thank you for being you, too.”

I smiled and settled myself against him again, allowing myself to finally relax for the first time all week.

[flower-cage]

Hold Back

Tom Holland x Reader | smut & fluff (18+ only)

Summary: Tom’s shooting a movie and you can’t stop bruising him during sex.

Words: 2.6k

Warnings: explicit sexual content, swearing, daddy kink, slight slut shaming, unprotected sex, light spanking, light choking.

A/N: My first writing received a lot more notes than I ever expected, so I felt motivated to write another smutty oneshot. Enjoy.

There were few things you could perceive beyond the maddening pleasure you got from Tom plunging himself in and out of your throbbing core: the thumping of the headboard against the wall, his dirty whispers of want against the shell of your ear, your shared wetness dripping down your thighs. Beyond that, your mind was hazy with arousal only, like it always was when you had him inside you.

You had been at it for such a long time, it had to have been at least forty minutes since he had finally entered you. He was pounding deep into you with long, hard thrusts that shook the bed and took your breath away. There was nothing you loved more than having Tom inside you, chasing your orgasms with desperation. 

When he hiked up one of your legs on his shoulder and angled himself to thrust even faster into your sweet, sweet spot, you couldn’t help but throw your head back and moan. Loudly.

“Yeah, baby?” Tom breathed out against your jaw, where he was sucking wet kisses into your skin. “Feeling good?”

“Yes, Daddy,” you moaned at Tom’s enticing words. His rhythm never faltering, moving harshly and desperately into you.

“And you’re gonna come for Daddy like the good little slut you are?” Tom asked gruffly from behind gritted teeth. “You gonna wet my cock, baby?”

“Yes, yes, yes!” Your eyes rolled back as every single one of Tom’s thrusts had the thick head of his cock plunging right up against your most pleasurable spot. Relentlessly. 

“Oh, Daddy, yes!” You positively yelled as your pleasure took over you forcefully. You threw your head back again and sank your nails into the flesh of your boyfriend’s back, dragging them down his shoulder blades as you convulsed in absolute pleasure around his thick length. Still, he plunged into you.

“Fuck,” he groaned and slammed a fist against the mattress next to your head at the burning sensation on his back muscles. After two more rough thrusts, he came inside you, riding out your orgasms in a few final, sloppy strokes. He dropped some of his weight on you, trying to catch his breath on your bare shoulder. You pulled him by his messy curls to meet your lips in a lazy make-out, your tongues sliding against each other without purpose.

“Well, good morning, darling,” Tom murmured against your lips, smiling. You chuckled and scratched his head, played with his hair while giving his warm lips some more little kisses.

“Does it count as morning if the sun hasn’t come up yet?” You looked and pouted at the window, where the moonlight still seeped in through the sheer white curtains.

“You’re the one who said you wanted to wake up with me.” 

He had to be up most days at four in the morning so he could be at the studio by five, go to makeup, dressing, and then warm up all before seven, when filming started. Most days, he would stay until at least seven at night, other days he’d be back in the afternoon or wouldn’t be back until eleven. So you wanted to make sure you could spend some time with him in the morning, have sex and breakfast and send him off to work happy and energized.

“I know,” you said and turned to look into his sleepy brown eyes again, “And it’s totally worth it.”

He grinned at you lovingly and pecked your lips one last time before dropping himself onto the mattress beside you.

“Damn,” he winced. “You did quite a number on my back, darling,” he said, turning over and propping himself on his elbows to avoid the contact. You blushed in embarrassment at his words. It hadn’t happened voluntarily. You had been completely lost in pleasure and it just… happened.

“I’m sorry…” You whispered.

“It’s fine,” he grinned at you. “It turns me on.” He winked at you cheekily and you bit down a wide smile trying to break through your lips. One more of those and you would jump at him for round two.

“So,” he started and brushed back some of the hair falling on your face, “do you want to join me in the shower or go back to sleep, my darling?”

Instead of answering, you wrapped your limbs around him. He grinned and supported your thighs at his waist when he rose from the bed, heading toward the bathroom. Round two it is.

—

“There’s nowhere to go. And there’s no way they won’t catch us in the next five minutes if we just stand here!”

“There’s just one thing left to try.” Tom gasped out, both of them trying to regain their breaths. He looked at the river determinedly and tugged his heavy sweatshirt off his body, then his shoes. He swung his arms back and stepped back, preparing to jump.

“Cut!” Tom heard the director’s callout. He looked back at the crew, confused. He wondered if he had said his line wrong.

“Can we get someone from makeup over here?” The director called again, chuckling. In fact, the entire crew was either smiling or chuckling.

“What’s going on?” Tom asked, turning to face the director fully with a frown.

“Woah!” His co-star exclaimed suddenly, so he faced him instead. “Did you have a good night, Holland?”

Tom just stared at him confusedly and tilted his head to the side.

“Your back?”

“My… back?” Tom repeated slowly. What about my back? He reached behind him to feel for whatever it was that had stopped production and winced. Oh. His eyebrows shot up and he blushed furiously.

“I’m so sorry!” He gasped at the director, who just waved him off, laughing.

“It’s fine,” he said, “just take it easy from now on.”

Tom nodded, still blushing, and tried to not flinch away as a makeup artist painted over claw marks that were undoubtedly bright red down the expanse of his back.

—

“Tommy!” You yelped as he shoved his thick length within the wet, sensitive lips between your thighs. And then you gasped as a hand came down on your bare skin.

“Try that again,” he practically growled in your ear.

“Daddy…” You whined, burying your fingers in his hair and your face in the crook of his neck.

“Good girl,” he purred and started thrusting into you slowly. You gasped and melted into him, surrendering yourself to the delicious strokes against your inner walls. Your skin lit on fire and goosebumps emerged all over its surface every time Tom pulled back from your sweet spot.

He had come home earlier that day. The sun was still out and he wasted no time taking your hand in his and leading you out to the pool for a swim. A swim which turned into a hot makeout in the jacuzzi as the weather got chilly with sundown, and then into steamy, desperate sex against the wall in the living room. Your bodies still dripping, still hot from arousal and from the hot tub, wet hair sticking everywhere on your face and chest.

Tom had you propped up against the wall with a grip on the crook of your knee, leg raised high up and pushed back. He thrust into you steadily, strong movements of his hips hiking you up each time and gradually driving you to the edge. Your toes barely grazed the marble floor as he supported you on his cock alone, his tip slamming against that spot inside you that sent you into overdrive again and again and again.

“Such a perfect pussy, baby,” he groaned against your lips in between passionate kisses. “You took me so well in the morning I kept thinking about it all day.” You whined at his words as they brought you that much closer to unraveling for him.

“And now you’re taking it again. So. Good.” He punctuated his words with sharp thrusts and your eyes rolled back, mouth hanging open in a string of loud moans, nails starting to sink into his shoulders.

“Wait, baby,” he said, panting in exertion and not daring to lose the rhythm he had built up.

He knew you were close. And he knew those claws were about to sear into his skin again any time now. He hooked your leg over his arm, ripped both your hands off his back, and slammed them against the wall above your head. The shift in position drove him deeper into you and you both moaned, his pounding not faltering for a single second, his pelvis rutting against your clit and adding to your pleasure with every drag. 

He sucked your bottom lip into his mouth and thrust in once, and then one more time before you came together, moaning and whining against each other’s tongues. You thrashed in his hold as your pleasure coursed through you in long, electrifying waves. His grip on you tightening just short of painful as he emptied himself inside you, deep into your sensitive cunt.

“God, I love you,” Tom panted in awe and kissed you passionately, messily. He slipped out of you and slowly lowered your leg, mindful of the stress the position exerted on your hip. He rubbed it lovingly, then let go of your wrists and rubbed those too.

“I thought you liked it when I scratched your back?” You pouted at him when he released your lips.

“I love it,” he said in between raggedy breaths, “but today I kinda got called out at work for it.”

Your chin dropped. Your face flushed in dreadful embarrassment. You didn’t know which was worse: that you had interfered with his work or that everyone he worked with knew he had absolutely railed you that morning.

“Oh, my God,” you gasped, “Tom, I’m so sorry. I can’t believe I messed up your job!”

“No, no,” he shook his head, “Hey, everything’s alright, Y/N. You didn’t mess up anything. It’s my fault for not letting you know sooner. Okay?”

You nodded sheepishly and he pulled you off the wall by your hand and guided you to your shared bedroom. Once there, you wiped away the mess between your legs and sat at the edge of your bed.

“I honestly don’t know how I’m going to hold myself back.” You mumbled, half hoping he wouldn’t hear you. But he did.

“What?” He chuckled. “How come?” He looked at you over his shoulder from where he stood in your walk-in closet. He pulled a pair of boxers up his legs and walked over to you with panties and one of his t-shirts in hand. He knelt in front of you and proceeded to slip the underwear up your smooth legs, placing a few loving kisses on the way.

“I just-,” You sighed and placed your hands on his shoulders, sliding them up and caressing his neck and his perfect jaw. “You love me so good, Tommy. I just lose my mind. Literally.”

He smiled at you smugly. He leaned in to kiss you, his tongue sliding against yours just right.

“Don’t say stuff like that, darling,” he said when you broke apart. “We already had sex three times today. You’re gonna kill me.”

You chuckled and pulled him into a big cuddle, where you stayed for a couple of minutes, snuggling and stealing little kisses before he pulled back.

“Besides,” he stated smugly, “I’m sure we can figure out a way to keep these claws at bay.”

—

Except you didn’t. No matter what you did, what you tried, sex in the next few days ended with Tom having to pull you away or hold you down to keep you from bruising him.

You had tried several different positions where you wouldn’t be able to scratch down his back. When you were on top, you sank your nails in his chest. Reverse cowgirl? Nails into his thighs. If he held your wrists down, you sank your teeth into his shoulder or his neck. 

“I don’t want to have to tie you up every time we make love, baby.” Tom had mumbled against the back of your neck sleepily one night when you cuddled on the sofa.

“We can just do doggy,” you mumbled back.

He sighed and snuggled closer to you. You smiled privately when you felt his excitement growing in his pants, poking you on your lower back.

“Every time, though?” He whined. “I like it when you hold me. And I like kissing you and looking into your beautiful eyes.”

A smile split on your face with the love you felt for him. You tilted your head to meet his lips and that’s how you tested sideways sex. He had to pull your head back by your hair at the very last moment. You had nearly sunk your teeth into his jaw.

At the moment, he had you bent over the arm of the sofa and propped on your elbows. His body was flush against your back and his strong arms wrapped around you, reached forward to hold your hands in his. He was fucking you so slowly, so deeply, so lovingly. He was touching everywhere inside, dragging against your throbbing walls and then holding his engorged tip flush against your sweetest spot for a few seconds. Each time barely leaving your heat before sliding all the way in again with maddening rotating movements of his hips. Your legs spread, shaking in arousal, allowed for constant stimulation on your clit as it pressed against the leathery cushions.

Tom had pushed all your hair to one side so he could whisper words of love and press kisses against your flushed skin. Every touch and every murmur from his lips made your heart grow bigger and your pleasure settle intensely at the pit of your belly.

“I love you so much, my princess,” Tom purred to the side of your neck. “You feel so good. God, Y/N, I love you.”

“Love you, Tommy,” you whined. “You make me feel so good.”

“I’m so close,” he grunted and sped up his movements slightly, “Want you to come with me, baby. Can you come for me?”

“Yes,” you gasped. “I’m close.”

“Yeah, baby?” Tom asked and quickened his harsh thrusts. The sounds of your skin slapping together took over the space around you.

“Yes!” You cried as he slammed onto your g-spot repeatedly. “Oh- Tom, don’t stop!”

He didn’t. He didn’t stop until you were both taken over the edge, grinding roughly onto each other as you rode the waves of your orgasms and sloppily made out with his hand on your throat and your head tilted back.

Tom slipped out of you when his excitement went down and flipped you over gently. He kissed you deeply for a couple of minutes and you basked in the love he poured into it. You ran your hands through his hair and all over his back to take in his warmth, his love, his presence.

“I love you, I love you, I love you,” Tom murmured multiple times in between soft, intimate kisses that made you chuckle.

“I love you too,” you whispered, “so much.”

He smiled at you and when he raised a hand to brush away the hair sticking to your forehead, you saw angry red marks on his arm.

“On, no,” you gasped. “Tom, I did it again. I’m so sorry!”

He chuckled and shushed you with yet another kiss.

“I don’t care anymore,” he said, “they can just cover it up with makeup.” He cupped your face and ran a thumb over your bottom lip. “I want you to be able to express your love. Don’t hold back, baby”

[mrdanielbond]

Wild Nights, Wild Hearts (One-Shot?)

“Mystery man”

[Main characters: Mikael Blomkvist X Reader]

Plot: It is time to head back to work as a lecturer at your university after a successful first semester. Unfortunately for you, one of your guest lecturers is a familiar face from a wild night out…

[A/N: Wrote this ages ago and thought, hey why not? Okay, so I don’t know if this is going to be an actual thing. Like I assume it’s going to be a one-shot. Plus, in all fairness, Mikael is my favourite non-Bond character of Daniel’s, so I thought it’s time to appreciate this man in all his glory. I hope you enjoy this! Let me know what you think?]

Music continued to boom through the speakers. The flashing lights and smoke was intense, but you didn’t care. As long as you were still with your friends, celebrating a birthday amongst the group, that's all that mattered. What also helped was the fact your sultry look managed to get you quite a few free drinks from the bartender. You weren’t used to this kind of attention, often keeping a natural look. However, this was your friend and co-worker’s birthday. You wanted to spice things up and look incredible for her. Of course, when Maisie saw you for the first time, she was surprised. In fact, her jaw dropped at how glamorous you looked. “Girl what the HELL! After Florence Pugh, you are a woman I’d proudly fuck.” You remember her particularly saying and that was the start of an incredibly wild night.

“Javier, can I get another tequila please!” You scream with excitement at the bar, Javier proudly pours you your sixth tequila shot.

“This one’s on the house my darling,  Y/N.” He pushed the shot glass in front of you and your eyes widen with excitement. You had to admit, you do have a thing for tequila so this man feeding you free drinks made the night all the better.

“You spoil me.” You winked as you took the shot and walked off to join the rest of your friends.

The night followed with more dancing and more drinks between your friends. At some point on the floor, you started to get tired and your craving for more drinks kicked in because you found yourself at the bar once again. This time you were looking for something more than a shot. “Okay, so it’s like a sex on the beach but like so much fruiter, like with strawberries!” You tried to explain but in your drunken state, Javier couldn’t help but laugh as he struggled listening to you.

“You know what? You tell me what to do and I’ll make it for you.” He said and a devious grin appeared on your face. So you watched, instructing him on how to make your special cocktail and when he finished, he threw a small umbrella inside it to serve you. You sipped it and couldn’t help but moan. It was glorious...Well maybe it would’ve been if you could taste it at all.

“Can I have what she’s having?” A baritone voice said beside you. You turned with your eyebrow raised. “And I’ll pay for hers.”

He reached into his wallet, still looking into your eyes as he handed Javier his card. You weren’t sure whether it was the alcohol or the fact you were practically pushed against each other with how packed the bar was but this man was...incredibly handsome. Rugged dirt blonde hair, bright blue eyes that gave you butterflies and his dark blue shirt didn’t help as you couldn’t help but stare at his chest from time to time. Javier turned back to make your drink for the stranger and handed it over to him. “If you’re going to have a cocktail, you’ve got to get it right. Strawberries with the ice.” He said with a smirk but you couldn’t hear him. Not with the music blasting over you...and his dreamy eyes. “What?” You tried to shout out. “I said-” He could barely get a word out in all the noise and you could see it. Quickly, you grabbed his hand and pulled him to a quieter table in the corner. “That’s better - wow.” He suddenly stopped himself when he took another look at you. “You’re really beautiful.” “Smooth.” You chuckled. Alright, so at this point, usually you would say thanks and dip to find your friends. However, this man, bless him, appeared mesmerized by you. He was in awe of you and not just looking at your chest or your figure as though he were some creep. You both hadn’t realised you were still holding hands, leaning into each other.

“Hey, that’s unfair! I’m not usually bold with women.” Something about the mystery man was telling you he was honest. “The strong and silent type is full of surprises.” He said and you swear to god, you could see even he knew what he was doing with that statement. To be honest, he was right. With those eyes, he wouldn’t have to say a single word to get you to go home with him. Throughout the night, you both kept rambling to each other about everything and nothing but you were both having fun, laughing together and putting each other at ease. Your friends must’ve noticed you because they were all staring at the two of you in awe, sharing drinks together, leaning into each other. Then ‘Someone New’ by Hozier began to play. Oh no. Any slow song that played while you were next to a man was a recipe for disaster. The mystery man ,on his high, pulled you closer. “Oh no, I can’t go out there!” You said. “Come on, what happened to that confidence I saw earlier?!” He laughed. “Listen, I can pick and choose when I want to be brave!” You snapped back. “Why are you so bold all of a sudden?!” “What can I say? You bring out a new side to me.” He laughed and before you could fight back, he managed to bring you to the floor. You couldn’t tell him why this was a bad idea but...maybe it wasn’t now you were in his arms, moving around the floor. He held you close and you didn’t want to leave. Not with the high of the drinks and after such a good night filled with laughter. Who knows? Maybe when you wake up the next day, you’d regret it. But for now, you were going to appreciate being here with him...but now you were filled with anticipation, you were craving something. Uh oh. You were craving him. Suddenly, a surge of confidence filled you and you looked up at him. He had already been looking at you. Quickly, he leaned in and you found yourselves kissing with a raw, fiery passion that remained unmatched. You could tell how much he wanted you. In fact, you could feel it as he pressed you against him. But you didn’t care. You ran your fingers through his hair, now the heated kiss becoming lazy until you bit his lip, catching him by surprise. When you pulled back breathlessly, he smirked. “Oh shut up, I know what you’re going to say.” You playfully pushed his chest.

The hangover the next day was going to be ridiculous but you didn’t care. The mystery man had you all over him, and he? All over you.

Rain violently bounced against the wall of your office. Across you sat Maisie, who happened to be an English lecturer. You were one of the lecturers, who had just finished your PHD in Media and Cultural Studies and when offered a job at the university, you couldn’t help yourself but stay. It was decent pay after all and after three years with the university, you realised your students loved you. There were wild lecturers in the school of arts department, who overshared and gladly you weren’t one of them but your students knew you well enough to seem relatable. However, you were hoping that today they would not quiz you on your hangover. Especially your seminar classes, they really loved hearing whatever you went through. Right now, you sat at the table, head against the desk of your office while Maisie watched you groan. “Oh my god.” Was all you could mumble. This was not how you wanted to spend your first week back of the second semester. Your head was pounding violently, you were nauseous, stomach turning. The only thing saving you was the cup of coffee you had in hand, after being forced to take an espresso shot, you were still practically dead. Maisie simply sat there shaking her head. God, she had no right to judge you after goading you into going out. “You should have known not to go hard on the drinks!” “But...free…” The words fell from your lips. “Javier gives free drinks all the time, I’m surprised it doesn’t get him fired. You should’ve known, he did this last time. Actually, that reminds me, where did you go last night?” And then you remembered. You went off with a mystery man, an incredibly handsome mystery man. That, you were fortunate enough to remember. With your head against the table, you smirked, so your friend wouldn’t see. “Don’t pretend as if we didn’t see you walking off and kissing that man, who by the way is a huge score! We spent all night fangirling about him.” Maisie said with excitement but all you could do was groan again, “Come on! You have to tell me! What happened?” “Nothing happened.” You mumbled into your arms. Okay something happened but you still didn’t want to say anything. “Don’t lie to me! You have to tell me, it was my birthday, meaning you have to tell me what YOU did on my day!”

You still refused to move. As your knight in shining armour, the Head of Faculty, Andrew stormed into the room, coffee mug and binder in hand. “Right! Who’s ready for a day full of learning ladies!” Maisie laughed as all you could let out was a groan. “Oh, not you too!” He let out an irritated huff. “This is ridiculous. Seems like there’s a lot of hangovers going around this morning.” “Really?” Maisie said, leaning forward with excitement. “Yeah, I just got off the phone with the guest lecturer. He is bloody hungover too. Could hear it in his voice.” Shit. Guest lecturer. One of the senior lecturers decided to go on a research leave mid-year, which didn’t help your cause as you were left with over one hundred students needing attention. That is when the head of faculty, Andrew, who you adored, decided to call in a guest lecturer, an industry expert in the field to provide you with support. Only thing is, Andrew was unpredictable, so you didn’t know who he had in store. You only knew he was a pretty popular journalist in Europe. Weren’t you supposed to be meeting him before the class? “He said he’s going to be running late.” Thank god for that. You didn’t need Andrew screaming at you about representing the university under a negative light. Before Andrew could get to scolding you, however, your alarm went off. Swiftly, you jumped up and swiped all your folders. “Class! Got to get to class!” Was all you could muster before leaving the room, and your colleagues, incredibly shocked.

Students filled the lecture hall for the first lesson of the semester, which didn’t surprise you. There were a lot of familiar faces as usual. A couple of new ones but most of the students knew when you were out of it and these were the ones present. Andrew followed you in, watching intently, hoping you wouldn’t screw this up. But everyone knew the rules. The moment your mug was placed against the desk, everyone was silent, eagerly listening to hear from you. “Morning everyone! Welcome back, I hope you have all had a wonderful Christmas break! Just know that for many of you who took my module last year, yes, I am currently in the process of grading your assignments and the results will be distributed next week. However, I am not here to talk about that. Right now, it is time to turn over a new page! So, for those of you that don’t know me, I am Dr. Y/N Y/LN. I am totally cool without the whole formal title and I am a lecturer in Media and Cultural studies and welcome to my module Introduction to Investigative Journalism. This is where we’ll be in touch with some of the world’s most notorious cases from the role investigative journalism played in the portrayal of criminals from the likes of Charles Ponzi, Pablo Escobar, Charles Bronson to female serial killers such as Velma Barfield and Judy Buenoano. We will be looking at cold cases such as the murder of Olof Palme to the story of D.B. Cooper and corruption amongst transnational and multinational companies such as the fall of Wennerstrom. I know this feels like a criminology course and having the stomach would be ideal, however this is incredibly interesting if you want to look into serious crimes and learn about political corruption. I mean I didn’t have the stomach at first but you learn to live with it.” The students laughed. Andrew was in awe of how professional you managed to be but then again that is why the university needed you. They knew you were the young voice they needed to liven things up and get students intrigued, no matter how hungover or ill you were. “ Now, as you know, Dr. Woodbridge has taken a research leave so today, I believe that Andrew has called in a guest lecturer who will be here throughout the second half of the module to provide support and as an industry expert will hopefully be able to answer the questions you all will have.”

Andrew stepped forward, grinning from ear to ear as he headed to the centre. He gave you a wink to praise the way you pulled yourself together and turned to the rest of the class. “Thank you very much, Y/N. Couldn’t have introduced the module better myself, you have me excited and I’m not even taking it! Anyway, without further ado, I am honoured to introduce to you all your guest lecturer today, he is an investigative journalist and co-owner of Swedish magazine, Millennium, Mikael Blomkvist!” The class gave an applause and so did you as the man walked through the door. Then your applause slowed...hang on a minute. Why did the name Mikael sound familiar? Mikael walked in with a smile, waving at the glass, sporting glasses and a warm cardigan, smiling but then he turned to you and then it hit you. This was YOUR mystery man!

[rowanaelinn]

Fire on Fire - Chapter Three

Chapter two // Chapter four

“My head’s gonna explode,” Elide Lochan sighed before she drank two big gulps of water as if she had been thirsty for days. Aelin knew the feeling. She’d been working for two hours now but it felt like ten. The bar was so hot and the music so loud, she couldn’t wait to go home and come back to the silence of her room.

Today was her first day and of course, it was a Saturday night, the busiest night of the week. The uniform, which was basically only a tight white shirt and a pair of black booty shorts, was one of the other reasons Aelin decided she hated this job but only stayed for the money. Aelin had been lucky today if you can call it that, but unfortunately, that luck didn’t extend to Elide.

Some douche-bags slapped her ass when she served him his drink, and of course, all his friends howled with laughter. As if sexual harassment was some kind of joke. The moment Elide mentioned this incident, Aelin had wanted to slam the guy's head on the table but Elide stopped her. The customer was always right and both Aelin and Elide needed this job too much.

They had decided not to tell their co-worker Manon about that, Aelin and Elide had already worked with her before and Aelin knew where Manon was, violence usually followed. It was something Aelin loved about that woman, and she also found it hot as hell. Okay, maybe she had a bit of a crush on the white-haired woman. But in Aelin’s defense, Elide did have a crush on her too. It was like a general experience.

“Do you think we’ll be fired if we don’t go back?” Aelin put her cold bottle of water against the back of her neck, in an attempt to cool her down.

“Definitely, Rofle is a dick. I mean have you seen this outfit?” The brunette turned on herself and gestured to the more than revealing clothes. Aelin agreed, if her cousin saw her in this outfit he would have a heart attack. She was suddenly glad this bar opened last week, at least Aedion didn’t know this place. Yet.

“Girls,” Nesryn interrupted them. “Break’s over. Go back to work.”

Aelin undid her ponytail, a forbidden hairstyle in this bar apparently, and went back behind the counter. She wore her best fake smile and ignored the lingering looks on her breast or her backside, winked and flirted back when clients thought they had a chance of taking her home with them. Aelin hid her disgust of these men pretty good, she was proud of herself for it.

She would quit if she wasn’t low on money lately. For hell’s sake, Aedion was paying half of her rent. It had been a very long discussion between them, Aelin would rather live on the street than depend on someone. Aelin got convinced when Aedion made it clear if she didn’t accept he would call her parents. So Aelin put her pride aside and accepted, at the only condition Aedion let her pay him back whenever she could. He had argued but accepted. The Ashryver family wasn’t very good at compromise, but at least they tried.

“Aelin, go take the order of table nine,” Manon yelled at her over the background noise. Aelin gave her a thumb up as she kept pouring alcohol in the shaker.

When Aelin was done making this cocktail she wiped her hands and walked toward table nine. She looked down to grab her little booklet and pen she left in one of the pockets of her apron as she said, “Hi, welcome to the sea dragon, what can I-” She stopped as she took in who was sitting in front of her. Lorcan Salvaterre, Fenrys, Connall Moonbeam, and of fucking course, gods-damned Rowan Whitethorn. She took a deep breath and smiled, but she knew her fake smile wasn’t as convincing as it was minutes before.

She focused on Fenrys and Connall, the only ones she could stand at that table. “What can I get you?”

Fenrys had an amused look on his face, accentuated by his smirk full of wickedness. “So this is your new job?” He asked, and if she didn’t know him the look could be considered genuine.

“You knew it, Fen. I told you hours ago.” Rowan’s head whipped to Fenrys, and Aelin’s face suddenly mirrored Fenrys’s. She didn’t know what the blonde had in mind, but if it annoyed Whitethorn, Aelin was on board. Rowan’s head turned back toward her and he narrowed his eyes. “Got something on my face, Whitethorn?” She couldn’t help it, she had to always argue with him.

“Yeah, all that make-up,” his eyes roamed over her body, it took everything in her not to move under the weight of his gaze. “What’s that outfit anyway?” His disdain was quite obvious.

“My uniform, dumbass.” She tightened her grip around her pen and notebook so much that her knuckles turned white. “Be careful, it almost sounds like you care.” It was one of the most sarcastic things she had ever said in her life, the look in his eyes was enough proof.

“Why would I care about you when you’re dressed like a stripper?” He crossed his arms and Aelin had to force herself not to stare at his muscles and at the tattoo on his arms. He was a handsome bastard and it made him quite hard to hate.

“So, no respect for sex workers, Whitethorn? Why am I not surprised?”

“No, actually I respect them a lot. You’re the only person I don’t respect.” It took everything in her not to punch him in the face right now, but that’s what he was waiting for. It was like he loved to see her lose control.

“I’m going to enjoy spitting in your drink.”

“Do that and I’ll have a nice chat with your boss, good luck to find another job, princess.” He was getting angry, Aelin loved that, it meant she was winning their little game.

“Feel free to do it, it just means you’ll have to share that splendid bathroom with me longer.” She winked at him and wiggled her brows. Rowan clenched his jaw, another sign of his anger.

“Can you two stop for a minute? I’m thirsty.” Lorcan Salvaterre interrupted them and Aelin rolled her eyes. She wasn’t exactly on friendly terms with Lorcan either, but instead of always arguing as she did with Rowan, they just ignored each other.

“Who are they?” Elide asked as Aelin prepared her roommates’ order. The four of them wanted a beer, classic.

“Two of them are the bane of my existence and the two others annoying but very pretty.”

“I want him in my bed,” Elide said as she bit her lip. Aelin whipped her head toward the guys, trying to know which one she was talking about.

“I have no idea which one you’re already planning to get naked but one of them is gay and the other three aren’t good options.”

“Great, I don’t want good and I don’t want to be good. And It’s the tall one.” Elide winked and left before Aelin could say anything. Of course, Elide would be attracted to Lorcan. Alein went back to their table, accidentally spilling a little bit of Rowan’s beer on him when she accidentally tripped. He swore at her but she decided to ignore it, instead, she pushed him so she could sit next to him to be right in front of Lorcan.

“You,” She pointed at Lorcan, with her smile full of mischief.

“Don’t look at me like that.” She shook his head and she heard the twins laugh.

“What’s your type of woman?”

“Everything you aren’t.”

“I’m gonna look past that insult because I am an amazing woman,” she was cut off by Rowan’s snort. “You shut up, you’re thirty and still single.” She looked back at Lorcan but heard Rowan correct her on his age. His highness was still twenty-nine for three months. “What about 5”2, brunette, very very scary. She’s also one of the prettiest women I’ve ever seen, but unfortunately, she doesn’t have good taste. I’m not her type but you are.” She winked at him. Rowan muttered something that sounded a lot like “We aren’t teenagers anymore” but she ignored him.

Lorcan furrowed his brow, Aelin could see him hesitate. “Where?”

“Want to see her dance?” Aelin didn’t wait for the answer and walked back to the bar.

-

Rowan was mesmerized.

The moment Aelin Ashryver Galathynius started dancing was the moment he lost his mind.

He hated her for it, hated her for being the first thing anyone looked at when they entered a room. Hated her for being the most attractive woman he had seen in a while.

She had been raised to become this. Well, not to become a barmaid in a piss-poor bar in Doranelle. But to become the type of woman everyone looked at, everyone wanted.

With Evalin Ashryver as her mother, how could Aelin become something else? Her mother was an incredible actress, and one of the most famous ones. She was also known for being cunning, ambitious, and beautiful as a sin.

And with Rhoe Galathynius as her father, Aelin knew how to captivate an audience. Rhoe was a legend of football. Whenever he played, all eyes were on him. He was smart and as cunning as his wife, a perfect match if you listened to the papers. That’s probably why he was a coach now, and that’s also why his team almost always won.

So Aelin was born with amazing genes, a talent to bewitch everyone who looked at her, and a bank account bigger than anyone should have. That’s why he didn’t understand why she would be working here and living with five guys instead of just having a big apartment in the richest part of town. But Aedion had told everyone to never mention her parents, so they all listened. Everyone was careful to do just that, maybe because Lysandra had threatened to cut their favorite body part and to make them eat it if they ever mentioned Rhoe’s or Evalin’s name. All that the day they met her when she was one month away from turning eighteen.

Now this she-devil had him under her spell. He couldn’t stop looking at the way her hips moved perfectly on beat with the music, at the way her hands wandered over her stomach, the side of her breast, and then lifted her hair in the air. Or even at how close she was to her friend, the one who is apparently interested in Lorcan. Both of them were giving a show, and when Rowan finally looked away from the blonde it was to find almost every man with their eyes on her. She knew what she was doing, he knew she did. It made him want to yell at her, even at work she couldn’t help but want attention.

Aelin turned her head, and their eyes met. Rowan sat straighter, swallowing. Her sinful mouth turned into a smirk and she accentuated her hips’ movements, aware of Rowan’s eyes on her. It was also something they did, along with arguing. They caught the other checking the other out, but wouldn’t call them on it. They would never bring it up, it was like a secret between them. He shouldn’t find the idea of sharing something with her so exciting.

She never stopped looking at him as she danced, sometimes she would bit her lip, sometimes her hands would wander on her breasts. He had to stop himself from growling as his cock hardened. Aelin was a sin.

Who did she think she was? He hated her, he made that clear. She hated him, and she had also made that clear. Why did she feel the need to tease him? She was trying to mess with him, and it was working.

The bubble broke when one of Aelin’s coworkers interrupted her, telling her and her friend she was dancing with to go back to work. Rowan couldn’t help but stare at her ass as she walked back behind the counter. He would have felt bad for it, wasn’t it for the slight sway of her hips and the look she threw at him when she started serving people again.

“I want her.” Lorcan almost grunted, and against his best wishes and even if they weren’t talking about the same girl, Rowan agreed.

-

Aelin wasn’t tired, no, tired wasn’t a strong enough word to describe what she was feeling. It was almost three in the morning and her shift ended in one hour, thank god she wasn’t supposed to close the bar today.

A customer asked for another sex on the beach, his fourth of the night. Aelin smiled as she prepared it but decided it would be his last of the night. Rofle didn’t want his barmaids to stop clients from drinking because more drinking means more money. But all the money in the world wasn’t worth the customers’ life. She would never forgive herself if someone had a car accident or became an alcoholic because of the drink she served. She gave the drink and took the man’s car keys, saying she would call a cab when he wanted to leave.

Aelin’s phone started ringing and when she saw who was calling her she sighed. If she was tired now it would be worse by the end of the night.

“Hello,” She answered as she got into a cupboard to find some quiet.

“Hi, you’re Aelin Galathynius?” A deep male voice asked. From the tone of his voice, the man must be as exhausted as Aelin was.

“Yeah, it’s me.” Aelin already regretted picking up this gods damned phone.

“I’m sorry to bother you but a guy’s at my bar. He’s tall-”

“Yeah, I know exactly who it is. Let me guess, he is drunk and absolutely refuses to call a taxi because taxis are disgusting. He also told you to call me, didn’t he?”

“You got it all right.”

“Okay.” She sighed. “Where’s your bar?” She nodded when he told her the address and told him she would be here in half an hour.

Aelin went to Elide, apologized, and asked her to cover the rest of her shift. Elide understood, it wasn’t the first time Aelin had to leave for the same reason. Elide was pissed but not because she had more work, but because she didn’t want Aelin to go.

Aelin took her car and drove, maybe a little slower than she should but it was night. Roads were dangerous, especially on a Saturday night. Aelin parked right in front of the sidewalk. She took her phone and wanted to text Aedion to tell him she would be late but her phone was dead. Amazing.

Aelin walked into the bar and realized she didn’t take time to change clothes, she was still in her uniform. She crossed her arms, trying to cover her chest as best as she could. Even if she had liked to have Rowan Whitethorn watching her tonight, she didn’t want anyone else to look at her this way.

It didn’t take long to see who had called Aelin, she walked toward him, the bartender looked relieved someone would come to pick him up. “I’m gonna take that.” She told him, and he gave her the car keys. Aelin turned her head to grey eyes watching her body, of course, he would notice her lack of clothing. “Let’s get you home,” Aelin said, trying her best not to let her anger out, it’s not going to help tonight.

“Hello, darling,” Arobynn purred.

tag list:

@sheharahu // @morganofthewildfire // @thestoriesyoutell // @fromthelibraryofemilyj // @swankii-art-teacher // @itsforeverinnocent-blog // @becarefuloflove // @imnotsogoodatthis // @rowaelinismyotp // @a-court-of-milkandhoney // @feysand-loml // @surielandiareendgame // @live-the-fangirl-life // @story-scribbler // @mx—spelled //

[wearywinchester]

Something Old and Something New — Part Three

Mechanic!Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: When life takes a turn and you take an unexpected break from college in Stanford with your best friend Sam, you return home to your job at your family’s co-owned garage. You return home to work alongside the guy you thought you hated—Dean Winchester.

Word Count: 4.4k

Warnings: angst, mild swearing, mentions of alcohol, jealousy, arguing, fluff

Today was the day.

The day your best friend Sam would be back in town any minute now. The day you’d see the expression to match the words he’d spoken to you on the phone just a few nights back. You told him about Stanford, about the way you felt uncertain of your return there and the way you felt about finishing your degree. Of the way you felt you might not have wanted to go there in the first place. Well, you did, but the beginning always seemed to be different.

But you told him. You finally broke it to him after days and days of stewing on it since you’d come back home, after days and weeks and months of letting it simmer back at college. No matter how much you gave yourself a pep talk for that conversation, told yourself it’d be fine and no matter how many deep breaths you took, you still found yourself shaking as you held your phone to your ear.

He was just as understanding as you thought he’d be, a quality Sam Winchester had that would never falter. You could hear it in the way he sighed on the other end, not one of disappointment but one sounding as though he’d already known this phone call was going to happen. You were sure he did, you don’t think you were great at hiding your discontent, but it only did so much to soothe your nerves on the subject. Because truthfully, it was still a big deal, still a big decision that you seemingly already made for yourself without having gone through with it.

But the weight that sat heavy on your shoulders felt a little lighter, that tension easing a little more.

Now, now you’re at Benny’s house, lights strung from the back porch just waiting to be switched on in the evening hours. The ones he’d used each and every time an event like this happened in the warmer months. The grill was going and cooking some of the best food you’d ever have, the smell of it filling the air and making its way into the house. Lawn chairs were set up in the backyard as family and friends made their way in until the whole group had arrived and filled the late Saturday afternoon air with the boisterous cheer that came with them.

Mary had brought her family famous homemade apple pies, a slice already taken out of one of them with only Dean to blame. There’s no way he would admit to it on his own despite being the pie enthusiast of the bunch, not a chance, but you knew by the scent of cinnamon on his breath when he hugged you, by the residue you swiped from the corner of his mouth that it was him. Mary knew just by the look on her son’s face, getting him a light smack to the back of his head for digging in.

Bobby had brought more than enough beer and Jody just the same but you were sure the accidental blunder wouldn’t be a problem with this group.

It was shaping up to be a nice afternoon, the sun shining goldenly and the fresh air warm, a gentle breeze sifting through at just the right speed. The garage was closed for the weekend, offering a little break from some work for the first time in a few weeks. Benny’s old radio sat tucked on the back porch, classic rock playing as expected but it was more so playing softly in the background of everyone’s conversations more than anything at that point.

You wouldn’t miss these occasions for anything.

It wasn’t until then that your eyes laid on the younger Winchester as he walked out of the back door to join everyone else, a grocery bag of chips and pretzels in his hand and a smile on his face at the sight of his family talking amongst themselves in the comfort of the yard.

You were the first to get on your feet and hug him, arms tight around him and he nearly dropped the stuff in his hand. It was safe to say you missed him over the time you’d spent away from Stanford, and you were sure that much was obvious.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you missed me,” he chuckles, his free arm wrapping around you. You squeeze him all the more tightly, a hum having been your response as your smile stays the same. “And here I thought you abandoned me.”

You looked up at him then, lips pursed and gaze narrowed. “You know that wouldn’t happen in a million years.”

“I know, I know,” he says, eyes rolling lightheartedly as he smiles.

“Well if it isn’t my baby brother,” a voice sounds, that ever familiar voice, rumbling just behind you deeply.

“Do you have to say that every time?” Sam huffs, humor on the edge of his words as the corner of his mouth quirks up, his brow raised in an effort to maintain at least a little annoyance at his brother’s choice of words.

“You’re damn right I do. What kinda big brother do I look like?”

Sam tilted his head, biting the inside of his cheek as he set the bag down. “Do you really want me to answer that?”

The humor in Dean’s expression dwindled in that moment at Sam’s words, lips pursing before the corner of his mouth tugs upwards once more. “C’mere, Sammy.”

He tugs him in close for a hug and a pat on his back, his smile quick to return.

Things went as good as ever the more the day went on, the afternoon slipping into the evening as the burgers and barbecue rapidly became less and less until it’d been eaten. Dean had been responsible for at least three burgers and another two slices of pie, having you hot on his heels in a close second.

An old football had been tossed around, paired with a game or two of catch that’d become very close to turning competitive once Dean got ahold of his old mitt and you found yourself taking a turn up against him. Turns out you were far better than he expected, far better than you let on, and the surprise on his face had given you more than enough amusement.

You’ve got a few tricks up your sleeve and Dean was quickly starting to realize that.

Now you’d been looking for him as the sun dipped down lower in the sky, the chilly evening air beginning to take hold.

You laid your eyes on the green eyed Winchester, the one you’d found yourself wanting to see since he’d disappeared earlier that day after he gave Sam the hug you knew he’d get. You weren’t exactly sure just when it was that he’d run off, or if he even had for that matter, but your habit of scanning the room for him had left you coming up short each and every time you’d done it until now.

You caught sight of him on the back porch, the empty beer bottle in his hand being tossed in the recycling bin as he stood over the near empty cooler. It wasn’t until you’d walked up to him with crossed arms that he looked up, squinting against the setting sun to get a glimpse of you.

“Would you look who it is?” He says, digging around for the beer he likes.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

He shrugs his shoulders, a smile playing on his lips.

“Feel like I haven’t seen you all day, sweetheart,” he says as he swipes another beer from the cooler before closing the lid, standing upright again.

“And here I thought you’d run off ‘cause I beat you at your own game of ball,” you said, watching his eyes roll as you look up at him with a half-grin. “Seriously, what’s going on with you?”

He looked up at you briefly, the corner of his mouth quirking upwards as a laugh puffed out through his nose, one that’s half-humorous.

“Nothing,” he says.

You nod with a hum, entirely unconvinced as you stood there in front of him and he knew that, could tell by that look you’re giving him. You’d be right not to believe him, but he won’t admit it. He wouldn’t admit to the jealousy that simmered in the very pit of his stomach each time Sam stole your attention. He wouldn’t because he felt stupid for feeling that way. For feeling it over the fact that you’d spent most of the afternoon with Sam the moment he’d arrived.

He was your best friend, he knew it’d happen and he knew it with the way you talked about Sam, eyes bright and smile beaming at the mention of his brother. It made his stomach twist and churn and he knew it shouldn’t have, he knew he shouldn’t have been feeling that tight coil of jealousy building within himself over the mere thought of it but his mind took every scenario and ran with it. He felt childish but he couldn’t help it either.

He found himself wanting to be selfish and have you all to himself, but part of him told himself that’d be absurd. You were Y/n, the one he bickered with and the one that got on his nerves on a good day. But he knew that was changing, he knew it from the moment he started thinking about you more often than not, by the very way he enjoyed your company, having realized there might never have been a time he didn’t save for when you were kids who picked on each other.

He knew it was different and maybe that was the problem, and maybe he did run off for a little while just to ignore the way you spent time with Sam.

“You’re a terrible liar, you know,” you said, nudging his boot with your shoe.

“Is that right, sweetheart?” He asks, taking a sip from his beer, then another.

“Yeah, it is, Winchester,” you say, a smile pulling at your lips. You glanced over your shoulder, eyeing two empty lawn chairs across the yard. “I don’t suppose you’re too grumpy to sit with me, are you?”

Your smile widens as you watch his brows furrow, a scoff leaving his lips as you turn on your heel and head towards the chairs.

“Grumpy? Who says I’m grumpy?” He says behind you.

You sigh as you sit down, trying not to take notice of the way he pulls his chair just a little closer to your own as you sit paces away from the fire Benny and Bobby sparked up in the pit. He tucked his beer in the cup holder, crossing one ankle over the other before tipping his head back against the back of his chair, a smile on his lips.

“What?” You ask, the curiosity in your tone as you sit up a little straight.

“Nothin’,” he mumbles, head shaking as his eyes fall closed for a moment.

“Dean, spit it out,” you say, swatting lightly at his shoulder.

You watched the grin on his lips widen a fraction, lips pursing to try and hide it but failing miserably. “It seems to me like you miss my company.”

It was your turn to scoff as you rolled your eyes, “don’t get ahead of yourself, Winchester.”

But he knew better than to believe that, because you can deny it all you want but the tone in your voice says otherwise. He can hear your smile in your words, and upon stealing a glance at you, he sees that very smile as you shake your head in faux annoyance.

You tug your flannel tighter around yourself as you stretch your legs for a moment, taking notice of the way the arms of your chairs had been brushing over top of each other, of the way you’d been close enough to bump elbows. You tried not to think of the fact that he’d put himself that much closer to you on his own, for reasons you hadn’t been aware of.

You tried not to let that flutter in your stomach go awry, tried not to let it burst into more like a kid with a crush because that would simply be foolish. Tried not to dwell on the fact that he’d been sitting with you, at the way you’d made him smile, otherwise your cheeks would burn and burn, hotter than the fire in front of you.

The transition between two people determined to annoy the other to the best of their abilities, and the way the two of you acted now had been one you didn’t quite know how you got to. You came back to Kansas with dread knotting up inside your stomach at the mere mention of the older Winchester, the very thought of him having you roll your eyes. To be fair, you still do that quite a bit, but now you find yourself seeking out his company when he strays a little too far. Now you find yourself smiling like a fool in his presence in a way that has you hiding it behind wit and humor.

You had no idea he’d felt the very same way.

You looked over to him, eyes on him as he looked ahead. The glow of the fire danced across his skin, shadowing every contour of his face, illuminating the sheen of sweat glimmering lightly over the bridge of his freckled nose.

You watched as he took a swig of his beer before putting the bottle in its rightful spot, his gaze shifting to you in a moment’s notice.

“What?” He asked, the single word amused as he caught you staring.

The corner of your mouth darts upward and you look away, head shaking and heart fluttering. “Nothin’.”

You heard his snort, knew he was shaking his head just as much as you were. “If anyone’s the terrible liar here, it’s you, sweetheart.”

It’s your turn to laugh as you look at your lap, a moment passing before you look over at him once more. “‘M serious. It’s nothing, De.”

“Right, right. Whatever you say.”

He caught your gaze as his smile mirrored your own, green eyes glimmering against the light of the flames just feet away as those dimples by the very corners of his mouth appear ever so slightly. The teasing behind your grin softened considerably to a genuine smile, his knee nudging yours in a lightheartedly action to accompany his words.

It wasn’t until that moment that you were aware of just how close you’d been, close enough to feel his breath sweep over your lips and to smell the cinnamon of the pie he’d eaten. Close enough to have your cheeks burning over it.

But the moment was only that.

“Y/n.” You cleared your throat as you sat a little straighter in your chair, head turning in the direction of Sam’s voice. He stood there, hand running through his hair as he suppressed a yawn. “Ready to head home for the night?”

You smiled softly at him, nodding. You missed the way the softness of Dean’s grin had fallen as his jaw tensed ever so slightly, the inside of his cheek sitting between his teeth.

You were in a daze for a brief moment as you sat on the edge of your seat before you turned to Dean, hand reaching up to grab his chin softly in a lighthearted pinch, the pad of your thumb resting over the dimple sitting pretty in it.

“Night, Dean,” you say, getting up from where you sat with him.

He smiles softly, swallowing thickly as he watches you stand there. He swallowed down that feeling bubbling up and threatening to spill out. Because it was him that you rode with to Benny’s house that day, listening to Zeppelin with the windows down. It was him that you’d been seemingly content with riding along with, and it was him that had plans to drive you back home. And now those plans had changed and there he sat by himself as you smiled that smile at him with his brother just over your shoulder.

“Night, sweetheart.”

—

Things were different.

Things were vastly different from what they were nearly three weeks ago back at your Uncle Benny’s. And things were a whole new kind of different from the time you first came back to that very day in question when Sam had come back into town.

You don’t know what it was, couldn’t narrow down the possibilities of what could have changed between you and Dean, what could have changed him. Maybe it was something that you’d never end up knowing in the long run, and maybe it was nothing at all. Maybe the days and weeks you’d spent working alongside one another without so much of that bickering, no matter how lighthearted, was just that.

He was happy as ever to see his brother, you knew for a fact he would be because that’s how it’s always been. But ever since that get-together, it was different.

“What is your problem?”

He snorted, his laugh void of humor as he looked away, tongue swiping along the inside of his cheek that was all telling of the anger that was simmering in the pit of his stomach.

“I don’t have one, sweetheart,” he says, the nickname less than fond in that moment as he tossed an empty bottle of oil in the trash to his right, taking the rag in his hand to wipe away the little bit of mess he made having been far too distracted thinking about you with that crease between his brows, that brooding frown on his lips.

You knew for a fact his words have been anything but truthful, the complete opposite as you stand in front of him, watching his attention pull from you in favor of looking under the hood of the car he’d been working on. A job that easily could have been done by now had his mind not been so preoccupied with the very person who’d asked him what his problem was.

He knew you saw right through him, he was a terrible liar when it came to you and he knew that. It’s not like it hadn’t been so terribly obvious that he had one, it was just as close to saying he did without actually saying it.

You saw it with the way he didn’t linger at the front desk as often to talk to you, to swipe the candy you’d had in that jar you kept just to see you roll your eyes. You saw it with the way he’d struck up fewer conversations, more about work and less about personal talk. At the crease etched deeper between his brows and the dimples pressed at the corners of his mouth in a display of his discontent. It was different and it was quiet.

Actions all staved off by the occasional smile. He still brought you coffee and he still waited for you to drive off first at closing time. But it was lined with an edge of tension.

“You’re lying,” you say, brows furrowing as you cross your arms over your chest.

“I’m not lying, Y/n. I’m busy,” he mumbles, tugging his hand away and shaking it out when his finger gets poked by a jagged car part.

“You’re being weird, Dean,” you press, insistent to pull whatever he’s got going on out of him to talk about it. He is acting weird and you know it. If the days and weeks and months and years you’d known Dean Winchester, he hasn’t quite acted like this.

He straightens his stance a bit more as he turns to face you with a glance on the brink of being annoyed, a huff blowing past his lips. You simply raise your brow in your own persistence, lips pursed lightly.

“Are you done?”

“Not until you tell me why you’re acting weird. And don’t tell me there’s nothing ‘cause I know you a little better than that,” you say, watching his brows drop from how they were raised, those very dimples by his mouth deepening as he stands mere inches from you and casts his gaze down at you.

“Just having an off day. ‘S that a good enough answer for you, sweetheart?” He asks, the corner of his mouth quirking up.

“No,” you say. You watch as he rolls his eyes and shakes his head, turning in his heel with a chuckle as he continues his work. “Considering you’ve been like this ever since Benny’s barbecue, it’s not a good enough answer.”

“Then tell me, Y/n. My baby brother came home from college for the first time in months. Do enlighten me on what it was that day that could possibly make me Oscar the Grouch,” he says, flashing you a look.

You heave a sigh, heavy and impatient as you bite the inside of your cheek, feeling as though you’re going in circles with no end in sight. His stubbornness was stronger than ever in that moment as he brushed everything off, as he acted nonchalant despite the clear irritation simmering away within him.

“Would it kill you to be straightforward, Dean?” You ask, your own annoyance wrapping around every word. “Seriously, what’s your problem?”

“Why don’t you ask Sammy?” He says, voice low and muffled from where he stood facing away from you.

You frown in confusion at the question. “What?”

“I said why don’t you ask Sammy?” He repeats, and now you’re sure you heard him correctly as he turns his head but still avoids your gaze.

You try to make sense of what he’d just said, standing still in your spot as you watch his white-knuckled grip on the edge of the car’s front end. Of the crease between his brows and the tension increasing in his jaw that told you he wasn’t joking, that he was in fact very serious.

It took a second, a minute even, before it clicked for you. “Wait a minute, are you jealous?”

He laughs then, bitter as he wipes the grease from his hands on the tattered rag he kept tucked in his back pocket.

“You think I’m jealous of my brother?” He says, tone full of a surprise you knew wasn’t real.

“Yeah, Dean, I do,” you say, gazing up at him. “You’ve been acting weird ever since I told you Sam was coming home to visit, and now it makes sense why.”

“Easy there, detective. Don’t get ahead of yourself,” he says, trying his hardest to stave off the way his heart had been hammering in his chest and the way he wanted so badly to admit that maybe he was, even though it’d been painfully obvious.

He wouldn’t though, he’d keep being stubborn because he felt that was in his best interest to be.

“You always do this,” you huff, your frustration evident.

“Do what?”

“You keep skirting around the obvious, Dean. You always do that when you don’t want to talk about something. I know that about you. You can say otherwise all you want, I don’t really care,” you say, voice rising slightly in your anger as you feel your cheeks burn. Your chest heaved a bit more than normal, heart pounding in your chest as you stared up at him. “Why can’t you just admit it?”

His gaze on you is stoic, nostrils flaring and lips still pursed as he looks down at you. The flurry of emotions he felt was a little harder to see outwardly, but you knew they were there. You knew it just like you knew there had to be a myriad of thoughts running through his head, but what they’d been about was something you didn’t.

Moments passed like that, seconds, until his expression changed, a humorless chuckle rumbling in the back of his throat as he shook his head.

“For not wanting to be a lawyer, you damn sure know how to argue,” he said, a bite behind his words that had your cheeks burning hotter.

Now it’s your turn to laugh, partly out of surprise at his words, and partly to stave off the tears that pressed heavily behind your eyes the more you thought about them. The hurt you felt in that moment had struck you harder than you cared to admit, not so much at his dig as the very fact that you were arguing with him to begin with.

It wasn’t unlike the two of you to toss around witty comments about the other, to bicker over anything, most often lightheartedly. The two of you had been like that with each other your entire lives. But this, this was different. It was different because you enjoyed his company more often than not. It was different because you knew you didn’t hate him, you don’t think you ever did.

“Maybe I will go back to Stanford with Sam. You know, since I’m such an outstanding lawyer.”

You watch as he nodded, the corner of his mouth quirking upwards as he looked away for a moment and really thought about what you said. Of the very words spoken out of anger just to make him angry and it worked. He didn’t know the meaning of your words other than the way they fed the jealousy brewing in the pit of his stomach, a feeling that was rapidly beginning to boil over.

“That’s a great idea. Hell, I’ll even pack your bags,” he says, smug and entirely amused as he watches your brows furrow.

It wasn’t until you shook your head, it wasn’t until he saw the way your eyes glossed over and your expression turned angrier in an attempt to hide that vulnerability that his amusement dissolved. Without another word, you swiped your keys from the counter, strong-willed as you twist the doorknob and leave, slamming the door behind you.

His jaw tenses and his lip quivered under his anger, flinching at the action and fist clenching as he turned away from the door as he stood alone. Before he could give it second thought he threw the rag in his hand down, arm sweeping over his workbench and sending every tool that sat on it to clatter to the ground in a heap of metallic clinks that echoed in the empty garage. He ran his hands through his hair and drug them down his face, exhaling a huff.

He had you. He had you and he blew it.

—

Series taglist: @myloversgone @colereads @stoneyggirl2 @samsgirl93 @poptart06294

General taglist: @flamencodiva @stixnstripesworld @elegantbutedgy @humanmistakes @agalliasi @campingmonkey @deandaydreaming @lanea-1 @akshi8278 @kidd3ath

[lucyintheskywithxanax]

Light Shall Smite Her

Pairing: Mildred Ratched x Reader

A/N: hello @serawalkerwrites​, this is my humble gift to you as your SP secret gifter 😌😘 I’m so nervous to post this, I hope you’ll like it. If you don’t, in the words of Puck, “This weak and idle theme, / no more yielding but a dream, / gentles do not reprehend. / If you pardon, we will mend.” x

(please bear in mind English isn’t my first language, so my apologies for weird sentences)

Word count:  ≃ 5 600

“I heard the new head nurse is very beautiful.”

Rosie waited expectantly for an answer. You hummed.

“I said,” Rosie repeated, in a louder, slightly annoyed voice, for she was excited and couldn’t bear your ignoring her right now, “I heard she’s very beautiful.”

You gave her a sideways glance by way of an acknowledgment, not bothering to stop your quick scribbling.

Rosie rested her elbows on the table and leaned towards you. “Don’t you care?”

“I’m writing,” you mumbled.

“Aren’t you interested, though?”

“Listen, Rose,” you started, setting your pen down and finally meeting your co-worker’s eyes, ”my break is over in five minutes, and I want – no, I need – to finish this, so would you be so kind as to postpone this conversation until later?”

Rosie straightened up with an irritated click of her tongue. “Fine,” she hissed. “I was just trying to be nice. Knowing you’re single, and all.” She turned, made to leave, but suddenly stopped to mock over her shoulder, “And by ‘and all’, I’m referring to the pathetic rant I had to suffer through last night about how ‘lonely’ you feel and how ‘unfair’ the universe is. I’m just trying to help.”

“Thank you, Emma Woodhouse,” you called after her as she angrily stomped out of the room.

With a sigh you resumed your writing. You hadn’t meant to be so harsh with Rosie, but you really needed to get rid of your thoughts and ideas by writing them down before your break was over. If you didn’t, the words would howl reproachfully in your head for the rest of the day, make a racket and fog your brain till you were finally able to spit them out on paper.

Just a few minutes more, you begged the clock on the wall. Your wrist was aching. Two more lines, and then you finally sat back in your chair with a huff like a warrior who has won their hardest battle.

You glanced up at the clock. Break over.

The clinic was unusually quiet today. A few patients looked up at you as you passed them on your way down the corridor. You offered them smiles, blinked at the sun when you glanced outside.

The lobby was deserted. You worked at the front desk, and were in charge of most administrative tasks – a rather boring job, but it paid well and left you enough time to write.

You were sorting out schedules when Rosie crossed the lobby, pushing an old man in a wheelchair. She shot you a moody look and mouthed something you didn’t understand. Five minutes later she was back; and, planting her elbows on the front desk, mouth tight and eyes studying your face, she started, “So, as I was saying, the new –” but before she had time to finish there was the sound of a door opening, heels, a voice speaking quickly, and then two people walked briskly into the lobby.

And one of them was a male nurse you knew called James, a boring, conceited person you couldn’t care about; and the other – but someone had drugged your coffee. There was no other explanation.

James came to a halt before your desk. With a contemptuous look to Rosie, he pushed her to the side, and ignoring her angry hiss announced proudly, “Y/N, this is Mildred Ratched, our new head nurse.”

You stared at her. The world around you vanished. It was as if someone had shone a spotlight on her, the rest of the room going dark as the audience held their breath. You were suddenly too hot, the air in your lungs was burning gas and it hurt – but Mildred’s face stayed perfectly composed.  

She gave you a polite smile and extended one hand to you as if nothing terrible was happening, as if you and her were meeting for the very first time and the only thought crossing your mind, as it had two years ago, simply was, What a beautiful woman.

“It’s so nice to meet you,” Mildred said, red lips curling up into a smile.

You knew that smile. It was the smile that reached her eyes but was fake and cold and meant to signify, I know what I’m doing. I’ve got this. There’s nothing you can do but submit.

You shook her hand. Mildred saw the way your arm trembled when you drew it back and pressed it against your chest.

“I’m giving Miss Ratched a tour of the clinic,” James was saying, with a note of pride in his voice. “She’s been very impressed by our equipments.”

“Yes,” Mildred answered, gaze boring into you. “The place where I used to work certainly didn’t enjoy such modern facilities.”

Your brain took over. It really was the only way you could survive this moment. You swallowed and locked up your heart and let coolness and calm seep through you.

“The place where you used to work?” you asked. You congratulated yourself on how neutral your voice sounded.

Mildred’s brow pushed up slightly, for she knew exactly what you were doing. She knew you. And despite your best efforts, you felt heat creep up your cheeks, heat creep up your ears, heat everywhere it was too damn hot.

But you would be damned, you told yourself, you would be damned before you averted your gaze from hers.

“Oh, it was a small place,” Mildred answered – and was her smile turning a little cruel? “You wouldn’t know it,” she added, and just like that, with her smile lingering on her lips, she turned from you and gestured for James to lead the way.

You stared at her back as she walked off, gait as decisive as you remembered it to be, but with that nervousness to it, as if she were constantly running from something. Do you only know where you’re headed?, you had asked her once – and she had gazed at you thoughtfully as she’d blown out cigarette smoke, and hadn’t answered.

“What was that all about?”

A door slammed shut, making you jump. Only know did you realize that your fists were tightly clenched, and your lungs were burning from lack of oxygen. You forced yourself to take a deep breath.

“What was that all about?” Rosie asked.

You glanced at her. “Don’t you have something to do?” you snapped.

**

Mildred and you. The story was a simple one.

She had been a nurse at the local state hospital, you had been a professional writer; you had met at a coffee shop, where you would both spend your Saturday afternoons. You had talked. You had laughed.

The sparkles in her eyes when she would talk about things she loved, things that made her happy, had caught your attention. So had her smiles, and her laughs, and every little thing she had said and pointed out.

You had ached. And then one day you had been bold enough, and leaned in to kiss her. And she, with a half-disgusted, half-shocked laugh, had pressed one hand to your chest to push you away – and in a voice that was only slightly shaking, had demanded what the hell you thought you were doing.

Turned out she had been hunting. For a young, happy woman, who would “fill the needs” of her brother, just recently got out of prison. You had gawped at her as she had explained the whole scheme to you, talking for all the world as if she were having a perfectly casual, perfectly normal conversation –

And then –

The anger and the disgust and the pain and the betrayal. You had stormed out of the coffee shop with the need to scream and to destroy something. To make someone bleed. To make someone pay for what you were feeling.

And the hatred – how you hated her. And yet, there had been signs, you had seen them – how she would bite her lower lip sometimes when she listened to you talk, how she would glance up at you, eyes a little darker and a little stormier and a little shy, how when she would reach out to cup your face in her hands, to comfort, to reassure, her touch would linger and her fingers would hold as if you were made of the most precious star matter in the universe – you couldn’t have been wrong. She had wanted you. You knew it. But she had been on a mission, and nothing could distract that kind of a woman from her goal.

To know you had been used, to know you had been seen as nothing more than a piece of meat to be fed to a hungry animal, made you feel dirty and disgusted with yourself. You couldn’t get rid of the feeling. So, with a desperate need to get rid of yourself, of the way you had been seen, you moved and got a new, different job – tried not to think of the reasons why you applied to a clinic of all places. You made yourself new, in a way.

And now – now your old self slammed back into you with a vengeance. It wouldn’t have been a problem, not really, had it come alone; but it was accompanied. It stood hand in hand with hope. And hope – hope was the worst.

The rest of the day passed quickly. You focused on your work, let your brain hold the wheel and did your best to ignore the thing, the thing that was warm and insistent and that you could feel growing in your chest, from making too much noise. It was adamant it would make itself known, though, and you were well aware it would only take a spark to set the fire roaring – and sure enough, at 5:30pm, as you were gathering your things and about to leave, the warmth started to burn – for Mildred, in her nurse uniform, walked up decidedly to your desk and, lips curled up, said, “Doesn’t your shift end at six?”

You clenched your teeth as you slowly looked up at her. “You’re not the boss of me,” you retorted, low and mean.

Mildred’s mouth twitched. “I would not be so sure of that.”

“I arrive earlier in the morning so I can leave earlier in the afternoon,” you snapped, louder this time.

She hadn’t changed a bit. She still looked exactly the same. You stared at her impeccable hairdo, at her collar, trying not to pay too much attention to the pale column of her neck; up, past her lips – a shudder, at the reminder of how they had felt against yours – to meet her eyes again, and catch a glint of amusement in them.

You cleared your throat, pretended the heat that flooded your face was fueled by anger, not embarrassment.

“So how’s your brother?” you taunted.

Mildred blinked. Her smile faded. She glanced over her shoulder, then leaned towards you and said, “Can we talk somewhere private?”

“Why?”

“I have things to say to you.”

“Things to say to me?” You snorted. Crossed your arms against your chest. “I don’t care what you have to say. I’m going home. Move.”

She didn’t move. She stood resolutely planted in front of your desk, eyes boring into yours, so you picked up your bag and walked around her, bumping her shoulder to make a point.

She flinched, as she always did when you would touch her without warning. You felt her gaze burning the nape of your neck as you hurried off. It was all you could do not to run when you reached the door.  

**

“This woman isn’t trustworthy,” you told your boss the next morning.

He barely looked up from his paperwork. “Which woman?”

“Miss Ratched.” You pretended you felt nothing, pretended it was not like music, when you uttered her name. “You made a mistake hiring her.”

“Did I?”

“She doesn’t have the credentials for the post of head nurse.”

A glance at you, annoyed and distracted.

“Her credentials are excellent.”

“They’re fake,” you insisted, shaking your head. “Everything about this woman is fake. Believe me, you cannot trust –“

“Miss Y/L/N,” he interrupted with a sigh, “if you do not have proof for these allegations then you’re only making me lose my time.”

You sat at the front desk in a bad mood. Patients glared at you when you answered their questions too shortly, and you glared right back at them until they lowered their gaze. Every time you heard footsteps, every time you heard a voice, your heart would speed up and your head buzz and you would look up, half in fear, half in (but that was hard to admit and, at first, you denied it) hope, expecting to see Mildred. You didn’t, though. The hours passed by and the nervousness in you increased, but Mildred never once crossed the lobby. She wasn’t in the break room at lunch; a nurse told you she had gone out to a restaurant with a friend.

At 5:30pm you left in an even worse mood. You told yourself it was because you hadn’t had the opportunity to be mean to Mildred, to take out on her some of your resentment and anger. There was no other possible reason, and if there was, it certainly was not that you were disappointed you hadn’t had the opportunity to at least steal a glance at her.  

At home that evening you tried to write, but the words had disappeared from your brain. You sat at your desk, eyes glazed, fingers unmoving. There was something in your chest that was made of emptiness and yet weighted heavy near your heart.

As you lay in bed you tried to summon bright images in the dark, the brightest you could create, red sunsets and turquoise oceans, anything to outshine the image of Mildred. You tossed and groaned and got too hot. In the corner of your room it seemed to you something was crouching, and looking up at you, and hoping.

In the morning you opened your window and stuck your head outside. The air still carried the chill of winter and made you shiver. But your blood was boiling. It was boiling still when you got into your car, boiling when you settled at the front desk and turned on your computer.

You decided it was boiling out of anger.

And yet – did anger make one’s heart beat so very fast at the mere sound of heels on tiles?

You told yourself it did.

It wasn’t until your lunch break that you saw Mildred. As usual, you gulped down your lunch to have time to write; and you were just starting when the door opened, and without so much as an introduction Mildred walked in and stopped right in front of you.

You looked up from your work.

“What do you want?” you growled.

Mildred gave you a pacifying smile.

“Good afternoon,” she started, lacing her fingers together in front of her. “As I said the other day, I merely want to talk.”

You snorted, and pretended to focus on your writing. But just as last night, words fled from your brain. Mildred’s presence was taking all the room inside your head, filling it with her scent and her colours, her voice, the shapes of her body. Your heart was beating too fast, your pen was frozen on the piece of paper, and out of the corner of your eye the blue from Mildred’s uniform was too bright, it was too flashy, it drew all of your attention.

After a few, long seconds of tense silence, you dropped your pen on the table and almost barked, “Fine, go ahead, talk.” You met Mildred’s eyes and tried to scowl, tried to convey to her the vehemence of your anger. “Say what you have to say and then get out and don’t talk to me ever again.”

“You’re quite overreacting, wouldn’t you say?”

“You’ve got some nerves, wouldn’t you say?”

More silence, as you both stared at each other. Mildred’s gaze wasn’t cruel or angry, you noticed; if anything, she looked nervous.

“Since you want us so badly to speak,” you said before she had time to, “answer this question: what would have happened, if I hadn’t tried to kiss you?” You waited, but since she didn’t answer, merely kept on looking at you with one hand sliding up her other arm to hug herself, you went on, “What would have happened, uh? You would’ve dropped a sleeping pill in my drink, kidnapped me, locked me up somewhere for your brother to do to me whatever he wanted?”

Mildred let out a short, offended laugh. “Don’t be so crude.”

There was yet another pause, during which she looked at you, nervously, and you looked at her, angrily; and then, entirely of its own, your gaze flicked to her mouth, and she noticed it, and her eyes widened a little.

You looked away and cleared your throat, praying – praying! – that the heat you could feel everywhere didn’t show in your face.

“I would merely have introduced you to Edmund,” Mildred answered eventually.

You met her eyes again. “I don’t believe you,” you growled. A pause. “Why did you wait so long?”

“I needed to make sure you were the right one for him.”

“And how many women,” you went on, slowly standing up and slamming your fist on the table,” did you try out before me?”

Mildred’s eyes darted to your hand as it hit the table. She jumped slightly, fear widening her eyes, and for a moment regret washed part of your anger away. You took a step towards her with the intention to reassure, no longer to fight.

You caught yourself, though. You stopped, and folded your arms on your chest.

“Answer me,” you growled.

“You were the first,” Mildred said, voice a bit tight. She hesitated, stroked her arm with her thumb. “I had no idea you were the kind of woman who doesn’t like the company of men.”

You laughed mirthlessly. “And you think that excuses everything?”

“It must have made it more unpleasant.”

“Any woman would know how fucked up it was,” you growled. “Except you, clearly.”

Silence settled between you two. Mildred’s thumb was still stroking her arm nervously, and you found yourself staring at it, as if drawn by the repetitive movement.

“I apologize for what I did,” Mildred said after a few moments.

Your eyes flicked back to her face. “Do you really? Do you really mean it? Or is it another lie, meant to coax me?”

“I do mean it,” Mildred replied.

“Then prove it.”

Something like annoyance flicked across Mildred’s features; but then, as quickly as it had come, it faded, and the nervousness settled back.

“How?” she asked.

You took another step towards her, meaning to invade her space, just a little, just to show her you had the upper hand. An idea flashed in your brain, but you couldn’t quite see its contours through the mist of boiling anger, so when you voiced it, it was without fully knowing what the words would be.

“Let me make sure you’re the right one for me.”

You paused. You decided you rather liked these words.

Mildred’s mouth opened, closed again. She titled her head, eyes narrowing.

You took another step forward.

“Let me,” you breathed, extending one hand to brush invisible dust from her sleeve, “try you out and decide whether I want you for myself.”

Mildred held your gaze with a stubborn, challenging – amused? – kind of fierceness, and you noticed how she had started breathing through her mouth, how her cheeks were coloring, not with embarrassment, but with excitement it seemed; like a champion in the starting blocks, adrenaline racing through her veins.

Something was drumming in your ears. Certainly it was your heart, but maybe it was something else - and this time you couldn’t fool yourself into thinking it was anger. Anger never drummed, anger thundered. Desire – longing – had its own particular kind of music.

You wondered, vaguely, if Mildred could hear it too.

She blinked. The fierceness in her gaze faded. She looked away, the black in her eyes turning sad and shy, then looked up again, hopeful this time, and you couldn’t help but marvel at the mirror that was her gaze, always reflecting, always revealing.

“Alright,” she said.

Your lips twitched into a smirk.

And then, just when you thought you had won, she smiled that victorious smile of hers that reached her eyes but was always cold, except this time it was warm, and there was mischief shining under it like a child up to no good.

“You have 24 hours, not a minute more,” she said, playful, almost singing. “Make the best of them.”

And then, and then - she lifted one hand, brushed the back of her fingers down your cheek, to mock your previous touch and remind you who was in control. Her cold skin made you shiver and instantly ache for more; and you would have leaned in and crashed your mouth against hers had you not regained control of yourself at the last second.

She left you with a glance over her shoulder as if to dare you to follow her. She left you standing burning and aching, trying to process what had happened.

You collapsed on your chair, because this all meant, dear you this all meant – that you had been right? That she was interested in you?

You raised a hand to your chest as if that could help slow down your heart. You did not know what you should be feeling. There were too many emotions, and which one was supposed to be right? You needed someone, a guide, to point out and say, This. This is the proper emotion to feel.

You spent the rest of the day in a state of overwhelming nervousness. Every minute you expected Mildred to appear with a cup of coffee or a bouquet of flowers for you. Nothing happened. The afternoon went by as usual. Rosie stopped at your desk for a chat. An old man threw up in the lobby and the cleaning lady cursed.

When the clock reached 4pm, you almost got up and stormed into Mildred’s office to demand what she was doing. Why the hell wasn’t she trying to win your heart? Why wasn’t she being excessively nice, voice dripping with honey, wide eyes begging?

You couldn’t believe the nerves of this woman, and you were fuming, until you saw her crossing the lobby with a young nurse in tow, and she glanced your way, and smiled. And her eyes weren’t wide, they weren’t begging, but they were nice, and they reflected the genuine good intention of her smile.

This is when you realized. There would be no excessive attentions or sweet little lies to flatter. She was aiming for the exact opposite of what you had run away from. Honesty. Being herself.

A little while later she walked up to your desk with a bunch of reproaches because you had messed up with a few patients’ schedules. Her tone was firm, her gaze hard. Brief apologies dropped from your mouth before you had time to think them. You eyed her curiously as she walked away, and kept on gazing at her long after she had disappeared. Then you cleared your throat, and willed yourself to focus on your work again.

When you saw her again, you were making ready to leave. She had changed into a long, forest green pleated skirt and a creamy white blouse with cuffed sleeves. You eyed her up and down as she came close to you, which made a small smug smile tug at the corner of her lips. You prayed all the gods the heat in your cheeks didn’t paint itself pink, and pretended you were busy with your handbag.

“Dinner?” Mildred asked simply. “I know a place.”

The place in question was a small, cozy and fashionable restaurant with a menu of fancy dishes that made your eyes widen. Mildred asked for a table on the terrace, in the setting sun; the waiter pulled out a chair for her with a respectful bow of his head, and for you with merely a nod.

You said something about the sunset, about how glad you were the weather was getting warmer, how dearly you loved the spring; you pointed out flowers. Mildred lit up a cigarette and listened to you speak, her gaze kind and attentive, and it struck you how easily you two were falling back into your old routine. How peaceful it was, how natural it felt to just sit there with her as the sun yawned and stretched, as cigarette smoke and laughter curled lazily up towards the sky.

Mildred folded her napkin and set it neatly on her lap. You glanced at her as you pretended to muse over the menu; and when Mildred’s gaze met yours, an awkward laugh burst out of your mouth and danced in Mildred’s eyes.

“I honestly do not know…” you started.

“Try this,” she smiled, tapping a finger on the menu.

“I do not trust anything with asparaguses in it.”

“Trust me, then,” Mildred retorted with a laugh.

The laugh died prematurely as your face hardened. Mildred swallowed, glanced down at the menu, looked up again to meet your eyes.

“I’ll have it myself,” she said in a slightly subdued voice. “So you’ll know what you’re missing out.”

You hummed, and took a sip of your drink to swallow the lump in your throat.

Dinner passed in easy, casual conversation. Sometimes, after you had said some random thing, Mildred would smile a shy, fond smile at an object on the table or at something around her, like sharing a secret with herself. You didn’t notice the waiter when he came back. Mildred let you steal a forkful of her meal, and laughed victoriously when your eyes widened at the rich taste that filled your mouth.

For dessert you both ordered rose and lemon Turkish delights, and fell in a comfortable silence. You watched Mildred and she watched you. At one point she ran the tip of her tongue over her lower lip to lick off powdered sugar. You felt yourself blush. Mildred noticed, smiled a little smugly; when your eyes met again, hers flicked down to her glass, and her smile turned shy.

“You never answered my question,” you said.

“Which question?” Mildred smiled at her glass.  

“How is your brother doing?”

There was cruelty in your words, but you thought you were entitled to some of it. The sun had set by now, the moon and the stars were not out yet: there was no witness.

Mildred’s smile faded. She looked up at you, a little reproachfully.

“He’s doing fine,” she said after a short while, in the voice she used at work with the other nurses. “Better than I thought he would. He found a job taking care of animals at the local shelter. It makes him happy.” A pause. A soft, dreamy smile to the tree on your left. “The animals help ease his mind. They give him purpose. He says he likes caring for innocent souls, that they would never hurt anybody, not because they can help themselves, but because the very idea would never even cross their minds.”

“That’s nice, but I was referring to his love life.”

She searched your eyes. “Nothing much to say about that.”

“So you didn’t find him the perfect spouse?” you asked with a mirthless laugh. “What happened? Set the bar too high?”

A gust of wind tangled in your hair, like a reproach from the universe, but you chose to ignore it. You brushed the strands of hair from your face and scowled at Mildred, awaiting – demanding – an answer.

Someone turned on the overhead lights, which threw a sudden bright, yellow glare on Mildred’s face and chased all the shadows.

“I stopped searching after you,” Mildred replied.

You snorted. There was a need to be cruel that was growing inside you and that was too loud, too outraged to be ignored. It was a military leader, and it had at its command an army led by Resentment, Pain, Anger and Revenge.

“What happened?” you mocked. ��Got tired so quickly? Got so disappointed in me you thought it wouldn’t be worth your time?”

Mildred refused to take the bait. She stayed completely calm, face impassible and gaze bold, but soft. Her behavior made Anger give a low war cry and charge.

“The truth is,” Mildred said, and she leaned over the table towards you, and smiled and with her smile was swept away the impassiveness on her face to let a loving intensity shine, “just before you left I had made up my mind to keep you for myself.”

You clenched your fist. “Then why the fuck,” you hissed, “did you push me away?”

“I didn’t! All I did was inform you what my plans had been, for the sake of honesty –”

“For the sake of honesty?” you repeated. “Are you kidding me?”

“But then you ran away,” Mildred finished. Had there been the slightest note of reproach in her voice, you would’ve jumped to your feet and broken something.

“As if you cared,” you growled.

“I tried looking for you,” Mildred said.

She paused. There was a nervous twitch to her mouth that, in the absence of shadows, you saw.

“I don’t believe you,” you growled.

“But you disappeared. You moved, didn’t you? You changed your job, you disappeared so completely and I –”

“Bullshit.”

“– and I tried to find you, but there was my job, and there was Edmund, and I couldn’t give up on him when he –“

“So you gave up on me instead.”

Mildred cut herself short. Silence hung heavy as she struggled, weighed up ugly truth against beautiful lies, until she said in a breath, “Yes.”

A sense of victory washed over you, but it felt sick, unsatisfying, and you wondered whether defeat wouldn’t have been better.

For a long moment none of you spoke. Then you realized in your anger you had leaned towards her, too, and your faces were only a few inches apart.

Mildred’s eyes flicked to your lips. You stopped breathing. You were so mad, you swore if she tried to kiss you right now you would flip the table, rip off the lights, break your chair. She had no right to ask to come back in your life, not after what she had done, and you were so mad, and definitely not leaning in and your lips were not parting as if to taste the air she exhaled –

Mildred raised her hands to cup your face. Her touch was like thunder, except you were not a tree but the sky; you had not been hit and burnt, but sublimated and illuminated.

You flinched, and sat back in your chair.

“So?” you asked, folding your arms on your chest. You couldn’t quite meet Mildred’s eyes. Your face was burning.

Mildred raised her eyebrows questioningly.

“So what happens now? What’s your plan now that you’ve found me?”

Mildred smiled. “That,” she answered, “is entirely up to you.”

Was this a blatant lie? You stared at her, forcing yourself to silence the fresh burst of anger her words triggered in you. For if there was one thing you were quite sure of, it was that Mildred Ratched never relented. When she sank her fangs into a prey, she never let go. She would forever be just a few inches behind you, the shadow gliding on your walls day and night, the fingers brushing your shoulders and making you jump.

“So tell me,” Mildred asked after a short while, “do you like what you see?”

You almost said no. Just to tempt her, just because you could and being cruel was so easy and felt so good. You almost said you would disappear again and change your name so she could never find you. Because deep down you knew that if you really, really tried, you would forget her. Only be reminded of her face once in a while in the middle of a crowd or in a poem.

But did you want that?

You pursed your lips to hold back the word “no”. Mildred would have looked confident enough had it not been for the flicker of nervousness in her eyes. They were so dark, her eyes, they sometimes reminded you of a big cat, crouching in tall grass, silent, body taut, ready to jump on its prey.

She had jumped. And you had run away. But now she was jumping again, and this time, you had seen her coming. And you let her claws sink into your flesh.

You shifted on your seat with a low noise of anger at yourself, glanced up at her and blurted out moodily, “Yes.”

Victory shone in Mildred’s eyes. A smile danced across her lips. She leaned towards you, hands coming up to rest on the table with her nails digging into the wood, her gaze so intense, so wild, and when her lips parted to say something you slipped one hand around her right wrist, pushed back your chair so you could lean across the table, and kissed her.

It was a quick, angry kiss, pulling away before it really had time to start. Mildred blinked in surprise. You scowled at her, your mouth a tight, angry line. Your hand clutched her wrist to prevent her from moving.

“Yes,” you repeated.

A smile. Soft, nervous, hopeful.

“Am I forgiven?” she asked.

“No,” you growled, eyes riveted to her lips. “You’ll have to make it up to me, times and times again.”

Mildred’s lips curled up.

“Oh,” she breathed, “I can live with that.”