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xerrorch · 2 months ago

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Walls of Ice

synopsis: zayne and you have eased into a simple routine under the vague title of a relationship. however, the comfortable ease of your friendship and zayne’s metaphorical prevent you two from crossing a very important boundary…

warnings: just some angst, making out, and suggestive language. no beta read, we die like men

pairings: zayne x mc (you)

word count: 2.8k~

author’s note: this is a fic i made for my friend and i decided to post it here for the first time. and yes this is based off of his nightly rendezvous card. also, requests are always open if you want something specific so enjoy!

The hospital was quiet tonight, which meant another calm day for Dr. Zayne.

You sighed with relief as you entered onto the Protocore Incidents floor, where his office was. Only the occasional beeping from machines in patients’ rooms and the quiet chatter of nurses filled the air, and your heart ironically felt a little lighter.

He was working extra hard lately, and you were grateful it wasn’t a hard night for him. You wanted to surprise him by coming by the hospital instead of waiting for him back at his house like usual; your shift at the Hunter’s Association ended early anyway.

You approached his office door and knocked on it gently. It was a few seconds before you heard his deep timbre echoing through the wooden door.

“Enter,” he said. So formal.

You sighed and shook your head with a smile as you moved to open the door.

“Dr. Zayne?” You called to him gently as you poked your head in. “I’m here for my appointment.”

He recognized your voice immediately, his head snapping up from his mountain of paperwork and meeting your eyes. There was a flicker of surprise on his face before it was quickly schooled, which made you chuckle.

Always so put together, and now you were here to help him relax.

“Hi,” you said softly, slinking into the room and shutting his office door quietly behind you. Zayne took off his glasses for a moment and rubbed at the bridge of his nose, his eyes overworked and tired.

“Am I late?” Zayne asked with a sigh before placing his glasses back over his nose. “I’m sorry if I am; this paperwork needs to get done.”

You hummed and slowly approached his desk, hands behind your back as you leaned forward and inspected the text of one of the papers piled on his desk. You don’t understand a single word, with everything being written in medical terms and in the obvious scratchy handwriting of a doctor.

“And when are these reports due, Doctor?” You asked him knowingly, glancing up at him and tilting your head at him.

He frowned as you saw right through him, clicking his pen twice before breaking your gaze to continue writing. “Next week.”

You sighed and rounded his desk, fingers trailing along the wood as you walked.

“Zayne, you need a break,” you said a little pleadingly, reaching a hand out to rest on his shoulder. You shook it gently and gave it a small squeeze of reassurance. “I admit that this wing wouldn’t be here without your hard work, but it also won’t fall apart if you clock out on time tonight.”

Zayne’s eyes fluttered shut momentarily before opening again, a deep breath filling his lungs. He continued writing.

“You know as well as I do how much my case load has increased,” he said quietly, not taking his eyes from the paper. You paused at his words, heart thudding against your chest.

More incidents involving protocore explosions and manipulated protocores had seen a spike recently. You were almost as busy as Zayne some days, with fluctuation after fluctuation calling you out to the field. It was exhausting for everyone on this end involving protocores, but with Zayne by your side, you had managed to find time to take care of yourself in all this chaos.

As a result, though, Zayne retreated more and more into this little office on the Protocore Incidents floor of the hospital, working late into the night and always remaining on call. It made your heart ache for him.

“I know,” you said quietly, reluctantly. “But you're the type to not take your own advice.”

He was constantly reminding you to take care of yourself, to leave work as the second most important thing to worry about. However, he never took his own advice or placed his work on the backburner.

Zayne shook his head and stood up from his desk, taking a stack of papers over to a file cabinet in the corner of his office. He opened a drawer and picked out a folder, neatly placing the papers inside it.

“MC, you know that I sometimes cannot leave on time,” he said, keeping his head down as he rifled through his file cabinet.

You frowned at that. There he went again putting other things before himself.

You had known this man since you were a child, saw him grow into a handsome, successful, smart doctor. He had always kept a distance between his friends and his personal life and issues.

However, now that you two were in— well, you supposed you could call it a relationship— Zayne still maintained that stubborn wall from childhood. It bothered you sometimes, especially when he was set on working late like this.

“Zayne, cmon, I know you,” you said softly, even though a part of you just wanted to shake him to get it through his head. You approached him as he stood at the file cabinet. “I know that you’re already a week ahead on all your reports.”

Zayne frowned again, his brow furrowed. It was a telltale sign that you were right.

He doesn’t say anything so you take the lead again, placing a hand on his forearm and moving closer to him.

“Let’s go home,” you said gently. “You need the rest.”

You didn’t expect him to relent that easily, but that’s exactly what happened. He released a little huff of air before placing the folder back into the cabinet and shutting it. You smiled, but the tension in his shoulders told a different story as to his behavior.

“Let’s go, then,” he said quietly, moving behind his desk to pluck his jacket off of the back of his chair. He shrugged it on as you placed your mittens back on your hands, getting ready to go.

The way back was quiet as Zayne waved goodnight to his coworkers and led you down to the lobby. He was as always the gentleman, a gentle hand placed on the small of your back, but there was something beneath that cold expression; you knew it.

And the security guard at the front desk only made the tense atmosphere worse by calling after you two: “I’m surprised to see you out so early tonight, Dr. Zayne. Have a good night!”

His body instantly tensed as he pulled out the keys to his car. You kept your eyes down on the ground and bit back your tongue.

The car ride home was equally silent, and you shifted in your seat as Zayne drove down the highway, as always the cautious driver. You decided to break the tension a little bit.

“Are you hungry?” You asked him carefully, glancing at him out of the corner of your eye. His stern expression softened just a touch, and your chest felt a little lighter.

“I ate earlier. No need to worry.”

You didn’t linger on the stiffness in his voice; you didn’t want to. Part of you wanted to ignore the presence of his walls altogether, but it was hard when he caged himself so tightly behind them in everything he did.

Thank god he lived close to the hospital.

You exited the car without glancing back to see if he was following, punching in the code to his house that he made you memorize in case he wasn’t home. A little kernel of annoyance now resided in your chest, because how could he still be putting up these walls around you?

Forget about those years-long feelings you hadn’t properly worked through together. You were still one of his oldest friends.

You opened the front door and dropped your bag at the little white table in the entryway. You could hear his footsteps behind you, and you could already feel the argument building in you before he even spoke.

“Are you angry with me?” He asked gently, the door clicking shut behind him and shrouding the entryway in shadows. Zayne flicked on the lamp sitting on the little white table, casting a warm glow over the room.

He was close to you, his chest nearly pressing against your back. It was too close for how annoyed you were with him.

“I’m not angry,” you punched out, and Zayne sighed as you stepped away from him. You turned to face him. “I’m just worried.”

Clearly he hadn’t expected for you to say that. His expression softened as he glanced away from you, gathering his thoughts together.

“MC, come here…,” he murmured, holding out a hand to you.

You weren’t ready to ‘come here’ just yet.

“No. No!” You were growing frustrated now. He couldn’t just hug you and make this go away. “You’re not the only one who is allowed to worry, Zayne!”

The silence that fell over the two of you made you realize just how loudly you were speaking to him. You believed you hadn’t raised your voice at him since you were kids, but right now it felt necessary. Maybe then he would be able to hear you.

Zayne ran a hand over his face, his glasses jostling slightly on his nose.

“I’m used to this,” was all he said. Before you could urge him on, he continued. “I’m used to the stress, and the chaos, and everything in between.”

You held your breath as he spoke like that, your nails digging into your palms. Your mind went quiet, his gentle voice sliding over your skin like a heated touch.

“Your grandmother told me to look after you, and that’s exactly what I’m doing.” At the mention of your grandmother, you flinched slightly. Your gaze traveled to the floor beneath your feet as you swallowed.

He didn’t say anything else, and silence stretched.

“I’m not the only priority here,” you murmured. Another sigh escaped Zayne from across the room.

“Yes, you are. You always have been.” A footstep, then another. You don’t move, shaking your head.

“Zayne, no,” you said firmly. The footsteps paused. “I dedicated my life to helping others–”

“So did I.”

“–so why can’t I help you?”

A sigh. “You’ve always been persistent, even as a child,” he murmured, taking another step closer to you.

“I know I’m not a doctor, but I want to help you,” you said, your head snapping up to meet his eyes. He had a guilty look on his face, and you wondered why. Why does he think like this?

“MC…,” he whispered, taking another step until you were toe to toe with him. His hands twitched, as if he was holding back from cradling your face. “The last thing I would want to do is burden you.”

Burden. It was such a strong word. The knife in your heart twisted at that, and your expression softened, your lips parting.

You suddenly wanted to protect this man from anything and everything; there was a fragile heart underneath this icy exterior. He surely couldn’t protect you all the time– he was only a man. He could damn well try, but even Zayne could tire himself out eventually.

But this man could never be a burden. Never.

Your hands come up instead to hold his face between your hands. You rose onto the tips of your toes, slowly but surely.

“Whoever told you that caring for you is a burden needs to pay,” you whispered before tentatively pressing your lips against his.

It was soft, but full of meaning and emotion. You didn’t understand why, but you wanted to let Zayne know that you were here. You were alive and kissing him.

And by God, you wanted him to know that you cared about him. Wholly and truly, even after years of friendship.

When you pulled back, Zayne’s breathing became heavy, his eyes flickering with something you couldn’t decipher. He stood rigidly, and your fingers twitched as they cradled his jaw. Did you do something wrong? Did he not like it?

It happened fast, before you could even get out a word of an apology.

He dove straight back in, hands flying to your jaw as he kissed you deeply. It wasn’t as soft as the first time, his tongue sliding against your lips and silently begging for you to open up for him. You complied with a hum and tilted your head back; Zayne’s chest gave a low rumble as he tasted you.

It hit you that this is the first time you had kissed him. You didn’t even think about it when you did it– it just felt right. Regardless, after years of friendship, that line had finally been crossed in a physical sense.

His glasses slipped from the bridge of his nose and bumped against your face. You didn’t mind the interruption as he pulled away from you, panting heavily as he inspected your face.

Your hand lifted and gently touched his lens, ready to take it off yourself. He brushed your hand away and shook his head, huffing as he ripped it off himself before returning to your lips.

It was quick, impulsive. And you knew that whatever walls Zayne had in place came crumbling down at your feet. Down fell the pinnacle of perfection and control that Zayne embodied, and in its place was this.

It was like he was a different person, slowly backing you against the wall while kissing you in the middle of the foyer. Before he could trap you there, you stumbled a bit over your feet, momentarily breaking away from the kiss to glance down. Zayne grumbled and dipped his head to try and find your lips again. His hands then fell from your neck to your hips, then to the backs of your thighs.

You yelped as he hoisted you upwards, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist and your arms around his neck. Your eyes widened as you looked down at him, at the intensity in his eyes; it was ironically like a blazing fire.

“Zayne…” You didn’t even know what to say other than his name, and his eyes darkened at the sound of his own name.

“Do you have any idea how hard it is to maintain control around you?” He asked gruffly, and your heart thudded loudly against your ribs. You shook your head down at him, your teeth finding your lower lip and biting down.

His gaze dipped to your lips again, his chest expanding and his brows rising in interest.

What was this? This was not Zayne anymore.

With a grunt he started walking with you still wrapped around him, tightening his grip on you. You already knew that he was heading for the stairs, and there went another wall that came crashing down.

You never stayed over. Never. You guessed things had changed now.

“How could I have believed that?” He asked, and you were not sure what he was talking about at all. You settled into his hold, your head in the crook of his neck, and Zayne’s hold tightened immensely, as if he were afraid you would run from him. “How could I resist the most tempting person I’ve ever met?”

You shivered at his words, your eyes fluttering shut. It seemed like his words stretched across years, generations, eons. It came from his very soul.

As he climbed the stairs, your head lifted slightly, your lips attaching to his earlobe. You sucked the skin into your mouth before nibbling gently on the flesh.

“I think we found something you’re terrible at,” you murmured. It was to tease him, just like when you were kids, but Zayne took that little jab as something to chuckle at.

He adjusted his hold on you, your core shifting against the rigid plane of muscles running down his abdomen. Zayne groaned at the movement, his fingers digging into the meat of your thighs, and you were so sure he would leave marks there.

“I’ve been resisting this since we were thirteen years old,” he admitted bluntly as he reached the top of the stairs. You faintly heard the thud of a door opening as you continued to nibble on his ear lovingly. “I think I’ve been doing a pretty good job so far.”

When the soft plush of the bed hit your back, you flinched, and your vision of the ceiling was immediately invaded by Zayne’s black hair and the deep green of his eyes. You cracked a smile as he just took you in, his gaze flickering around your face as if to check you were really beneath him.

“Guess you lost your streak,” you whispered, and amusement sparkled behind his eyes as you draped your arms around his neck. Those icy walls that once surrounded his heart melted into mere puddles.

His once cold hands were now warm as they glided across your skin, and a rare smile tugged at Zayne’s lips as he watched you shiver. Your nostrils flared at your intake of breath, your chest expanding against his palm; he glanced down at your body like a doctor, methodically, but now with a barely concealed hunger.

“I’ve hardly lost.”

It was Zayne’s turn to feed into his urges, and you didn’t mind it one bit as the night slowly bled away into day between sweat-slicked skin and whispered confessions.

#lads zayne #zayne love and deepspace #lnds zayne #l&ds zayne #zayne x reader #love and deepspace #lads #lads mc #lads x reader #zayne x mc #zayne x you #doctor zayne #dr zayne

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livelaughlovesubs · 4 months ago

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Hiii, Nini! Can I please request a Sigma x male reader fic with impact play? We've seen Sigma in fics getting absolutely decimated by the reader LMAO- I almost feel bad, so here's a twist, this is light impact play. Instead of spanks/floggers he can brace for, nope, feathers that make him jump out of his skin every time, giggling despite himself because wtf he's taken so much worse-. I think he'd absolutely lose it with the lighter/gentler stuff more so than the harder stuff purely because of how flustered he'd get XD. Ps I'm making it canon, you cannot look at him and tell me that stressed-as-hell man ain't ticklish.

Ahhhh so true!!! I imagine him as very sensitive and ticklish as well, like 🤤🤤 also since the gender wasn’t mentioned anywhere, you can interpret it however you want :]

Dom!reader x sub!sigma - reader is gn neutral

Warning: tickling/soft impact play, teasing, humiliation, slight dacryphilia (can’t write a fic without good’ol dacryphilia), using his hair as a brush???

Edit: started & finished this in the middle of the night, I’m so tired and I didn’t proof read it, also my brain is cooked idk what I did here

It’s been too quiet these days. Too boring, too mundane, too relaxing. There were many adjectives that would fit this little dilemma you were facing, called ‘dying of boredom’. You’ve been waiting around for your sweetheart to make a mistake, just so you’d have a reason to punish him. Yet how could it be that he’s so perfect in every way possible? You weren’t even exaggerating or meaning to sing his praises, heck you wanted him to be a little more human!

Otherwise you couldn’t think of a good reason to pull him out of his busy schedule, just to have him all to yourself, in such a selfish way. He wouldn’t agree, everyone knows how he puts his work above everything else. Such a horrible work ethic he has. Whatever, no one is perfect, even the manager of the sky casino will have to slip up somewhere, and you were way too eager to find it.

Sigma was just signing some documents as you watched him over his shoulder, taking sneaky peeks as if he hasn’t noticed you already. At this point he was probably wondering what you were doing. It didn’t bother you in the slightest, in fact, you knew due to you being so close, he’d get nervous and overthinking again. Something along the lines of: Did you want something from him? Why were you watching him all silently, so creepily?

And there it was— what you’ve been waiting for! “Sigma~ gosh, you clumsy thing! You wrote down the wrong date there, look.” You pointed it out a little too enthusiastically, eyes sparkling like morning sunlight, reflecting how excited you were. He glanced at you funnily, probably baffled why you were so happy about it. “Ah- yes, I see, uhh.. thanks, y/n.” Sigma furrowed his brows for a split second, then turned his attentions back to the papers. Though before he could continue writing, you snatched the pen out of his hand.

“Nope, you made a mistake sigma, and such a simple one as well. Tsk tsk tsk.” You faked a disappointment sigh, and facepalmed, putting your acting skills to use, “I’ll need to punish you, don’t you think?” So that’s what you’ve been waiting for, and probably the reason why you were so full of glee earlier. “A-are you serious..? For such a small thing?” Sigma looked taken aback, leaning his head back until he met your eyes. A slight blush was already convering his pale cheeks, such a naughty boy, he was excited as well.

“Why of course, it was a grave mistake after all. Stand up.” He was more ready to comply than you thought, not making any fuss as he stood up. “Good boy, now sit on the table.” You moved the chair away, pinning his body between your arms and gripping the edge of the furniture. Sigma glanced at you a few times, seemingly surprised with your demand. To be honest he expected you to bend him over your lap. This was fine as well, in fact, this position would prove itself to be more comfortable than what he initially predicted.

You were close, all up in his intimate space. He swore he could feel the heat radiating off your body. A slight blush covered his cheeks as he waited for your orders, already feeling the effects you had on him. It was almost terrifying how much control you had with just a few words. “Come on, you know how it goes. Strip.” After waiting for what felt like forever, you smirked as you whispered to him. “Ah- right. Sorry.” The boy replied half-minded, hands moving up to unbutton his vest.

This wouldn’t have been all that humiliating if it wasn’t for the fact that you were staring him up and down like some prey, watching his every move as he peeled off one layer after another. “Can’t you.. look in the other way?” He muttered in a meek voice, currently taking his pants off. “I’ve seen you nude plenty times darling,” you reached for his hands and helped him undress, “why are you still embarrassed?”

“You- stop teasing me..” The way his face flushed even more while he desperately tried to shake your hands off was so precious, you couldn’t stop grinning. “Ever thought it’s part of the punishment?” You asked, grabbing his thighs and spreading them apart. They were soft to the touch, and so squishy, his skin was flawless. “Ah-ahh… I’m- I’m really getting punished… over that little mistake?” He bawled his hands into fists, biting his lips to stop the trembling.

“I mean what I said.” He inhaled shakily, and breathed an equally unsure exhale. Eyes glossed over and half-lidded, body burning under your every touch. Poor boy was just preparing for the worst. You gave him a reassuring smile, then raised your hand right over his thighs. So it was going to be spanking, he thought and squeezed his eyes together. To his surprise, instead of the painful slap he expected, he was met with a teasing one. In response his body twitched involuntarily, and his eyes ripped open.

He didn’t flinch because of the pain, no there was no pain to speak of. There were only a soft, faintly red mark that gradually appeared on his inner thigh. Pretty much nothing worth mentioning, you left more marks when you grabbed his skin to spread his legs. “Erm… Y/n?” He couldn’t help but question your actions. That was a slip up, right? He’s taken so much worse, compared to all that you were basically caressing him.

Suddenly, another slap, though just as soft and gentle as the first one, making him jump out of his seat. “Wait- y/n, what are you doing?” It was such a light slap, can you even call it one? Wouldn’t tap be a more fitting description? “Punishing you. Why, do you want to be bullied instead?” You teased, followed by another slap, this time on the other thigh, and his toes curled. Why did this feel even more embarrassing than anything else? The sound was way louder and more dramatic than the actual impact.

“Ah- no but, seriously, what are you doing?” Out of nowhere you slapped his chest, once again it wasn’t painful in the slightest. He tensed together, still able to feel your touch in the places you’ve touched. “Shhh, be good and endure it for me, alright?” Instead of answering him, you stroked his fluffy hair, and smiled all self confident. The look on his face screamed confusion, but he trusted you, and so he simply swallowed the lump in his throat.

You grabbed a strain of his hair, one of the longer locks, sliding your hand through them, a little amazed at how untangled his hair was. As soon as you reached the ends, you held it fairly firm in your hand, and used it like a brush to graze over his skin. First over his cheeks just to annoy him, earning yourself a glare from him, then a feather-light brush over his nipples. He really didn’t know where you were going with this, but god did it rile him up.

It tickled, and it was so foreign, he couldn’t help but subconsciously clench his thighs together. Hands trembling from clenching his fists too hard, the pounding of his own heart echoing in his ears. You made sure to not touch him anywhere except with your hands, which made him all the more sensitive. Those touches were driving him mad, and that fact itself made him all the more flustered. You were barely doing anything, how could it be that he wanted to cry amidst all these sensations?

Soft, muffled whimpers slipped from his swollen lips, he arched his back forward whenever everything became too much. “Hnng- please, ah.. stop the t-teasing…! Hmm..!!” You carefully traced a line down his belly, resting your makeshift brush around his pelvis and moving it in a circling motion. As if all this wasn’t humiliating enough, he now knew why you had him sit on the table. All so you could observe his every move, every shameful expression and listen to every shaky breath he exhaled.

“Look at you getting all excited just from a few touches, you are way more needy than you’d like to admit, aren’t you?” “HnnGh..~ p-please.. ah-!!”He whined again, feeling you finally, finally giving his neglected dick some attention. Only using one finger to lazily rub his tip a few times, before using his hair to brush over the already sticky gland. His precum slowly dribbled from his slit, down his shaft before getting smeared around by you. “So messy.” Was all you had to say.

“Y/n, y-you’re so Mnn.. mean,” he squirmed around, shaking his head as tears rolled down his crimson cheeks, “I-i wanna cum…” you tilted your head to the side, sliding the bush of hair over his inner thighs, “that’s not how you ask for things, baby.” Then you used your other hand to rub his tears away, it ended up with him crying even more. “Such a crybaby, why don’t you try asking nicely?”

He gulped, trying to cease the sobbing for a moment, bending forwards as he let his head drop. The shame was eating at him, but he really couldn’t do this anymore~ which is why he looked up at you like a lost puppy, with glistening eyes and rosy lips, shaking ever so slightly as he begged, “please.. ha-Ahhh…I-i wanna cum♥︎ please m-make me c-cum..!!♡♡♥︎”

You smiled, staying quiet for a moment to raise the intensity and anticipation, then wrapped your arms around his shivering body. “You’ve been so good for me, and good boys deserve to be rewarded.”

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fluentmoviequoter · 4 months ago

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Tim Through the Years - The Perfect Ring

Series Masterlist (part 9)

Summary: Tim finds the perfect engagement ring and stops a robbery in progress. 1.2k+ words

Tim loves you and, as a result, he thinks that he knows you well enough to understand what you do and don’t like, what you want and enjoy, and what is special to you. Yet, he can’t find the ring. He has a mental image of the ring he wants to put on your ringer when he proposes, but he can’t seem to find the right piece to match his idea.

Since finding out that Tim was dating you, Angela has dropped hints about getting married: leaving paper samples on his desk, texting venue options late at night, and even slipping jewelry store cards into his pocket. As he slides his hands into his pockets, thinking about you and how he should propose, he isn’t surprised to feel a rectangular piece of cardboard. The slogan about custom engagement rings, however, captures his attention. Tim puts the card back in his pocket to keep it safe before he gets back to work, but he feels a little lighter because he is one step closer to forever with you.

“Welcome!” the owner of the jewelry store calls as Tim enters on an afternoon off. “What can I help you with, sir?”

“Well,” Tim begins, glancing down at the rows of expensive rings and watches in the case between them. “I’m looking for an engagement ring, but I’m having trouble finding the right one.”

“You know what you want then?” the man asks with a smile.

“I think so, I just can’t seem to communicate it well enough to search for it.”

The man nods and pulls an iPad from a nearby shelf. He opens the magnetic case and sets it on the glass case. “I’ve been working with gentlemen like yourself for years. Think of the ring you want and talk me through what you see. We’ll see what we can do from there.”

“Okay,” Tim agrees hesitantly. He smiles and begins talking about the ring he pictures on your finger: the color, cut, size, and design he envisions when he dreams of his future with you. Though you haven’t sent him pictures or said anything to make him think he should propose - or given him an idea of your ring preference, for that matter - Tim Bradford knows you, so he can make connections between your personality, your style, your heart, and a ring. Or so he thinks.

“... and maybe an engraving to signify how we met, at the police station,” Tim concludes.

“Alright,” the owner murmurs, tapping another marker setting. “Give me one second to finish this up. Forgive me if I’m overstepping, but it sounds like the two of you are perfect for one another. You’re lucky.”

“I appreciate that. Hopefully her brothers think the same when I ask him.”

“You don’t necessarily hide it. Okay.” He straightens and sets the pen aside, then turns the iPad toward Tim and asks, “Something like this?”

Tim is speechless as he stares at the sketch of the ring. The owner says something about not being able to hurt his feelings, but all Tim can think of is you.

“That’s it,” he says, looking up to thank the owner. “This is the ring.”

With a smile, the man extends his hand and offers, “Then let’s get started. I’ll need your help with a few things, just picking out the final material choices, and then I’ll start making it for you. I trust you know her ring size.”

“I do,” Tim answers. “One of my coworkers stole one of her rings as a hint, but I already knew.”

“See,” the man points out, “you don’t hide it, so if her brothers can’t see it, they aren’t looking.”

Tim nods and follows the man to a flat cart at the end of the display case. He lifts a box of sample diamonds in different cuts and colors before pulling out the one closest to his drawing.

“What do you think?”

Tim turns the man-made version of the gem in his hand and envisions you walking down the aisle, holding his hand, teaching, and growing old with it on your finger.

“I’ll take that as a yes. Let me get your information and I’ll give you a call with any questions and again when it’s ready to pick up. You’re sure this is the perfect ring?”

“For the perfect girl,” Tim answers.

Since finding the perfect ring for you, Tim was looking forward to his next day off. His plan was to grab breakfast with your brothers then go get the ring afterwards, even if he was told no by your brothers. Tim knew how you saw Dean as a father figure and that traditions were important to you, so he wanted to make sure he got permission. Tim felt pretty confident that they would say yes, they all were pretty good friends at this point. Tim and Dean would go to a sports bar to get burgers and watch the game when they both could. While Sam would go jogging with Tim on occasion, but at least once a month everyone would get together for dinner. But on the chance the brothers would say no, he would ask you anyway. He was in love with you and wanted to scream it to the sky.

Today was finally the day, and it was going great so far. Breakfast went exactly as he planned, the brothers immediately agreeing and then arguing about who would walk her down the aisle, which turned into arguing who was gonna dance with her first. Tim chuckles to himself at the memory, the brothers truly loved you. Finally arriving at the store he feels a little nervous, nervous that the ring is going to be the wrong one, nervous that you will say no, but when the store clerk shows him the ring he ordered, all the fear goes away because the ring is perfect.

“Put your hands in the air! This is a robbery!” a deep voice bellows from behind Tim.

Tim’s smile turns to a frown instantly, this is not how he wanted to spend his day. Tim complies; he didn’t want to get seriously hurt since he is off duty. But when the guy shoves Tim to the side and grabs your engagement ring, Tim grabs the guy by the back of the head and slams his head on the counter then grabs his gun all in one quick motion and aims it at the robber.

“LAPD! You're under arrest!”

Tim is annoyed, he is now trying to make it seem like he was not buying any jewelry as to not involve more people than necessary. But of course Lucy was one of the first people to arrive on scene and so she has to take his statement.

“Like I keep telling you, I was walking by and saw the robbery take place so I stopped it. What’s so hard to believe?” Tim grunts to Lucy.

“Okay, okay, this just doesn’t seem to be the part of town I’d take you to stroll around, it’s too fancy for you,” Lucy replies with a small smile.

“Tim! Great news, I got your engagement ring to not be processed and the owner of the store wants to give you a big discount since the guy has robbed the store 5 times now! Isn’t that great... news. Oh, hey Lucy.” Angela freezes as she gets closer to Tim, not knowing Lucy was with him.

“You bought a what?!” Lucy exclaims.

#tim through the years #tim bradford x reader #tim bradford #winchester!reader #fluentmoviequoter

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muwapsturniolo · 2 months ago

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IN WHICH.....A young troubled mind, lost and searching for belonging, finds solace in a group that seems to offer her a sense of purpose. Over time, however, she begins to uncover unsettling truths, realizing their intentions may not be as innocent as they first appeared.

WARNINGS..... mentions of psychiatric hospitals, depression, water/electroshock therapy. mentions of cigarettes, alcohol, throwing up. mentions of verbally abusive parents. IF I FORGOT ANYTHING PLEASE LET ME KNOW

dividers by @bernardsbendystraws

Dear Diary, I don't know what day it is...I think it's spring. The air feels nice, it doesn't smell like chemicals or shit. The sun feels warm as well, a big difference from the cold walls of the psychiatric center. They wouldn't give me my clothes back, so I'm sitting on one of the benches outside in the hospital gowns. They treat you like shit in there, but at least they had the decency to give me a blanket so my bare ass isn't parked on this bench. I'm currently waiting for Heather to pick me up. The hospital allowed me one phone call since my parents told them they couldn't pick me up, who knows if they actually even wanted to, but that's beside the point. I called Heather, and she was quick to agree to pick me up, she seemed excited. Speaking of Heather, I think I see her car coming down the road.

I put my pen in the crevice of the diary and close it shut, standing up as the beat-up beetle comes to a screeching halt. I watch as Heather scrambles out of the car, her sandy brown locks bouncing freely in the warm air. She's always been a pretty and carefree girl. She was slim, had green eyes, and a face full of freckles to show she was kissed by the sun.

She squeals as she pulls me into a hug, holding me tightly and bouncing up and down. I wasn't much for physical affection, but it felt wrong not to hug her after so long.

"I missed you Heather...." I mumble into her shoulder, clenching my eyes shut. She pulls away and gives me a sad but thoughtful smile, "I missed you too, crazy girl."

The rolling of my eyes makes her throw her head back and laugh, her hands never leaving my shoulders. "Come on, I bet you're tired of this place! Let's go!"

We rush to the car and climb in, not even bothering to buckle our seatbelts before flying off. It was only a few miles away from the hospital when Heather finally turned to me, a look of curiosity in her eyes.

"Sooo...what's up?"

I raise an eyebrow at the question, "Uhh, the sky?" She scoffs and looks back at the empty road. I could tell she was thinking about how to reword her question, possibly scared about being invasive. I don't see how she would be, I wasn't even allowed to shower alone in the hospital, eyes and ears always following you and listening.

I reach into her glove compartment and pull out her cigarettes and a lighter, immediately popping one in my mouth and sparking it. After a strong inhale of the cancer and a cough later, I turn to her.

"If you're asking how I am up here-" I tap my head a few times, "- It's all good. I mean, water and electroshock therapy gets you right after a few tries."

I take another hit of the cigarette before letting my hand rest out the window. "But honestly, I'm ok...I think? I don't even really know what was wrong with me to begin with. My parents wrote me off as crazy and a delinquent...Crazy is a bit much, but delquient would be correct. I don't know if those qualities in myself are fixed, considering I've been locked up in that place for god knows how long, so we will see how I turn out once I've 'adjusted' to being in the real world again..."

I found myself rambling, my thoughts a bit jumbled. It's been a long time since I've had the chance to talk to someone who wouldn't judge me. It's almost like I forgot how to think without being scared.

"Nothing was wrong with you, you just have a carefree spirit, and that scares people. Your parents are old folk and boring, the life we live damn near gives them heart attacks, so to hell with what they think!" I chuckle at her optimistic mindset.

That's how Heather has always been - Be the man, fuck the system.

"Enough about me and my time in the looney bin, catch me up. What have I missed?"

Apparently, I missed a lot, considering the way she immediately started to ramble.

The deli on Swanson burned down, Kirk got arrested for burning it down, a new record store opened near the library, Amber was cheating on Dylan with his older brother Shane, Miss. Jackson our English teacher from 7th grade died, and a bunch more.

However, the thing that shocked me the most was her parents dying. She said it so nonchalantly that I almost missed it. "Woah, wait, wait, wait! Your parents died? Heather, what the fuck? Oh my god, are you ok? What happened?"

"I was out with some friends, and when I came home, they were dead. Someone had broken in and killed them, stole all the money and shit too." It's odd how she brushes this off as if it was nothing. Although Heather got into a lot of trouble, her parents loved her. They never berated her like mine did or shunned her for her actions, they just kept loving her, hoping her ways would eventually change as she got older.

"Jesus Heather, I'm so sorry. I wish I could have been there for you." she waves me off, shooting me a soft smile.

"It's fine really... It happened a month after you were sent away. I know you would have been there for me, but I've been fine. I had an amazing group of people to help me through it."

I nod and rub her shoulder, "Good, I'm glad you had people to help you out."

"Honestly, I think you would like them! They are really nice and open to any and everything. We live out like an hour away on a commune, and it's just... Peaceful. There is no bullshit, no assholes, everyone feels like family...I love it a lot, and I think you would too."

I can't help the laugh that escapes my mouth, "A commune? You guys live off the land and sing kumbaya?" It's evident my laughter and joking rub Heather the wrong way, the way she hits my shoulder and glares at me tells me that much.

"Stop it! They are really nice people, and I love them! they're like family to me, and I don't appreciate you making fun of them or the life we live because you're too fucking-" She cuts herself off, getting quiet as she realizes the harshness of her tone.

"Finish what you were going to say Heather." She remains quiet, a look of regret on her face. I sigh and face forward, watching the scenery pass us by. It wasn't long before her hand found it's way to my thigh, squeezing it gently as a form of apology.

"I-I'm sorry for getting so defensive. I know you weren't trying to be harsh or degrading, you were just joking around... I-I just get protective over them. I meant what I said when I mentioned them being like family to me. They took me in and took care of me..."

Silence follows for a moment before I intertwine our fingers, finally turning towards her.

"I get it, and I'm sorry for joking about this... family, you found yourself joining. I'm happy you have people to take care of you after your parents." She gives me a small smile before looking back at the road.

"Did you want to maybe meet them? Or possibly come stay with us? I really think you would like it, especially after the hospital."

I sigh and rest my head on the window, "No, it's fine...I think I just want to go back to my parents and settle down."

"Your parents? But they are the ones who threw you in that damn looney bin! They have always treated you like shit! I don't think you should go back, they aren't going to do anything besides make you out to be the bad guy and try to put you back in that shit hole as quick as they can!"

That's something I've always loved about Heather, she always stuck up for me. It didn't matter if I was wrong or right, or even if it was against my parents.

She was a natural-born fighter - something I wish I could be.

"It's fine Heather...I can handle it."

"You sure?"

"I'm sure."

Turns out I would soon regret those words.

We pulled into my parents' driveway, my nerves bad. I could feel the sweat forming in the palms of my sweaty hands. This house always seemed scary to me, from the time we moved in, to the time I was dragged out of my bed in the middle of the night and thrown into a truck.

It had horrible memories, ones I've managed to block out since I was young.

"You know you don't have to do this, right?"

I ignore Heather's words and climb out of the car, making my way up the cobblestone path and to the front door. I debate grabbing the spare key that's tucked away under one of the potted plants, but I'd rather not get into an argument with my parents right away. I sigh out and ring the doorbell, hoping they would answer.

To my luck, they do, both my mother and father.

It's comical how they look me up and down, almost as if they are shocked to see me. I notice my mother's judgmental eyes looking past me and at Heathers car.

"No hi or hello? No hugs?" I ask in a joking manner, holding my arms up and out for dramatic effect. My father looks at me with a glare that causes me to put my arms down.

"What are you doing here?" My mother's words cause me to frown in confusion. "I got out today... The hospital called you all to come pick me up, and they said you couldn't...."

"No, we said we weren't picking you up because we want nothing to do with you."

My stomach churned at the harsh words thrown at me, but deep down, I knew something like this was going to happen.

"What so I'm being disowned?"

"That's exactly what's happening. You're a disgrace, an embarrassment, a damn lunatic! You've been nothing but trouble since you were born!"

I stare at them with harsh eyes, my hands clenched into fists, but I refrain from saying anything. There was no point in arguing with them, I learned that a long time ago.

"You are a pest! A damn parasite that we wished we never had! You've done nothing but be a burden and a damn freak! We don't love you, we never have and never will! You're not allowed under this roof, and if you come back, the cops will be called!"

Their words hurt, but i refuse to show them that.

"You know what? Fine. I'll leave, I'll drop off the face of the earth so that way you two can pretend to be one big happy family with no daughter. But I'm only going to ask you for one thing, let me grab some clothes."

My father goes to tell me no, but I interrupt him, "I need clothes. I'm about to be homeless because of you two. The least you can do is let me grab clothes."

"Fine, but be quick. We don't want you here any longer than you need to be," I shove past them silently, marching right to my room. I reach underneath my bed and grab an old duffel bag. I don't even think about the clothes I'm grabbing, simply reaching into my closet and dressers and just shoving things in there.

I pack as much as I can, as well as some sanitary products. Eventually, I change into a pair of jeans, a random shirt, and a jacket, slipping on some gym shoes, and walking out of the room. I stop in the doorway and look over my shoulder, my eyes glazing over in the safe haven I used to call a bedroom.

"You need to leave."

My mother's voice flows through my ears, and I clench my fists once more. I storm back out of the house and turn towards the sperm donors I used to call my parents.

"I hope the two of you die a long and horrible death. Fuck both of you!"

I could tell my words shocked them, they're used to me never speaking back to them or cursing them out.

I storm back over to Heather's car and climb in, throwing my bag in the back seat. "I assume it didn't go we - Just shut up and drive Heather!" I bark, running my hands through my hair. Eventually, I feel the car move, the wheels meeting the concrete street before the negative energy of the house dissipates.

I can feel my whole body shaking as I hold back the emotions that want to escape, my fingers gripping at my roots harshly.

"Let it out...."

Heather's words set off a bomb inside of me, an ear-piercing scream leaving my mouth. My tears stream freely, burning my eyes in the process. My hands slam against the dashboard in anger, "I hate them! I hate them! I hate them so fucking much!"

"They've always treated me like shit!"

"They were horrible parents!"

"I wish they were dead!"

"What did I do to deserve this?"

My explosive tantrum dwindles down as Heather pulls into the lot of a convenience store, parking in a spot closest to the door. She says nothing as she climbs out of the car and walks into the store, coming out a few minutes later with a bag.

She climbs back in the car and pulls a bottle of alcohol out of the bag, "You seem like you need it."

I eye the bottle with sore eyes, breathing harshly. I shouldn't drink it, whatever meds they gave me this morning in the hospital are still in my system, but I don't care anymore. I snatch the bottle and quickly open it, taking a big gulp.

The all too familiar feeling of my throat burning brings a sense of comfort, my body immediately begging to feel warm. I pull the bottle away from my lips and gag, " I forgot how strong this shit is."

Heather laughs before lighting a cigarette and handing it to me, "Have your fun loca, you're finally free."

I'm free.

I take another sip of alcohol before looking at Heather, "Do you think if I show up drunk to the commune, they'll hate me?"

She squeals in excitement hearing that I'll go to the commune, "They'll love you!"

With that, she pulls out of the parking spot, rolling the windows down and flying down the street like we used to do. I reach forward and turn the radio on, raising the volume of the music. The familiar intro to our favorite song comes on, both of us screaming loudly.

"All the leaves are brown, and the sky is grey!"

I was drunk out of my mind when we arrived at the commune, stumbling out of the car and falling into the wet patch of grass to throw up. I don't remember much after that besides Heather leaving me alone to grab help, a pair of arms eventually wrapping around my body and picking me up.

I could feel my body floating as I stared up at the night sky, the stars shining big and bright due to the lack of lights in the rural area.

It was a beautiful sight.

The floating feeling soon felt like I was on a cloud, a warm cloud. Not long after, I could feel my eyelids dropping, sleep taking over me.

The next three days were depressing.

I remember waking up the day after my arrival feeling sluggish and sad. Maybe it was the hangover. I haven't had alcohol in, I don't know how long.

Maybe it was the realization that I was truly alone. I had no home, no family, nothing to call my own. Heather had come into the room multiple times to check on me, asking me how I was feeling and trying to coax me out of the room to meet everyone - I declined.

I didn't feel like meeting these new people. Getting out of this random bed seemed like the end of the world, it made a pit form in my stomach.

I felt the same unease and sadness from my first night in the psych ward.

The second day was filled with me crying in darkness, curling up into a fetal position, and letting my sadness show to no one but myself. It wasn't a good feeling, but I don't know if I ever truly felt good. My whole life was spent with me walking on eggshells around my parents, constant beratement, and getting up to no good to feel something.

I was chasing a feeling I would never know.

The third day was filled with silence, my mind shutting off as I stared at the wooden wall in front of me. I didn't feel like doing anything besides wallowing in my own sadness, but that all changed with three knocks on a door.

I thought it was Heather, so I didn't answer. I assumed it was her room anyway, so there was no point in me telling her to come in. However, I was wrong, the person knocked once again, three more times.

The thought of getting out of bed felt like the end of the world, but I managed to do so. My footsteps were sluggish, my feet dragging against the wooden floor. I crack the door open slightly, and I come face to face with a pair of blue eyes and a warm smile.

"You've been in here for three days."

I say nothing, simply looking down at the door handle. He doesn't let the silence between us stay long, opening his mouth to speak once more.

"I'm Christopher, but everyone here calls me Chris...I uhh, I helped you to bed when you arrived. You were pretty drunk; you should learn to handle your liquor."

I go to close the door, not wanting to hear him speak anymore, but he stops me, his hand preventing the door from closing.

"Hold on a second, I know you're going through some things. Heather told us that you were, but she never specified. We could hear you crying all day yesterday, and a few of us are worried."

"Why be worried about someone you don't know?"

My voice was raspy, all the crying and screaming I'd been doing clearly doing damage to my vocal cords.

He drops his hand from the door and gives me a smile that makes every joint in my body relax.

"Because on this commune, we care about each other....Why don't you come out for dinner? I know you must be starvin', you haven't eaten in the three days you've been here."

He could tell I was going to turn him down, his smile faltering before quickly going back in place. " Come on, you don't have to do it for Heather or any of us. Do it for yourself. You deserve to have some type of comfort."

Comfort.

I deserve comfort.

I deserve.

I've never been told I deserve something nice, I've only been told I deserve nothing in life.

His words bring me a sense of peace, something I never truly felt. I hesitantly nod, muttering out a soft "ok".

"Perfect...Heather will be in to fetch ya for dinner. Trust me, you'll like it here!"

and so I did.

I went to dinner, everyone in the commune sitting outside on long picnic tables. Oddly, it reminded me of school, but it was different. There were no cliques, there were no lunch monitors, it looked liked one big family dinner.

Everyone was laughing and talking, sharing food and drinks, some people were even singing songs. The atmosphere was carefree, but I still felt nervous.

What if I made a fool of myself crying so loud? What if they don't like me?

Before I could turn to Heather and tell her I'm going back to her room, an arm was thrown over my shoulder, and I was pulled into someone's side.

"I see the pretty girl made it-" his words cause my cheeks to warm, catching me completely off guard. Before I could question his choice of words, he shoves a tray of food in front of me, motioning towards it.

"Help yourself. I don't know what you like, so I grabbed a little bit of everything for you. Don't worry about how it tastes, the kitchen is pretty good at what they do."

I look down at the food, and I can feel my stomach rumble. There's chicken, mashed potatoes, corn, broccoli, and even a huge slice of cake.

"Thanks...I appreciate it." My words are soft, a clear indication that his actions meant a lot.

They did mean a lot, I've never been cared for like this.

He sends me a soft smile and pats my thigh, "S'no problem, pretty. Now eat, your food is going to get cold."

The rest of the dinner is filled with everyone, including myself eating and making small talk.

It was a different setting that I wasn't used to and yet, I felt so at peace

Heather managed to introduce me to a few people, everyone being so warm and inviting, telling me they were happy I was here. A smile I didn't know that was on my face never swayed, almost being permanent.

Sometime throughout dinner, clapping was heard, everyone immediately going silent. I turn to Heather in confusion, only to see her looking at someone with heart eyes. I follow her line of sight and see a man standing up.

From a distance, he looked pretty tall, with fluffy dark brown hair that was a bit long but not too much. He had a bit of facial scruff as well, highlighting his sharp jawline. Even though we were a decent feet away from him, I could see his striking facial features that matched Chris.

His eyes were a bright blue, but they seemed dark - It was unsettling.

"I hope everyone is enjoying dinner?" His voice booms through the air, goosebumps rising along my skin. It reminded me of my father's voice, deep and holding no room for disobedience.

I turn to Heather, whispering softly in her ear.

"Who is that?"

"Hush and listen!" I frown at the way she dismissed my question but continue to listen to him speak.

"Make sure to thank the kitchen for their work. They always put love and care into their job. Now, I'm under the impression we have a few new faces that have joined our family this week?"

My stomach drops at his words, a few people turning to look at me. I rub my sweaty palms together, anxiously fiddling with my hands.

"Could all of the newcomers please stand?"

I planned to stay seated, but with the way Heather turned to me, it felt like I didn't have a choice.

I jump feeling a hand on my back, "Stand up, it'll be ok." I turn and see Chris looking at me with encouragement and reassurance. I swallow harshly and slowly rise to my feet, trying to ignore the multiple pairs of eyes on me.

"Welcome to our home. I know many of you have come from all walks of life. Maybe you experienced something traumatic, or maybe you're just searching for...Searching for something freeing. I hope we can be the peace and tranquility that you need. I want you all to know there's no judgment here, we don't define you by your actions. All I ask, we ask as a family, is that you don't judge us, you do your part, and you find yourself..."

Despite the unsettling feeling in my stomach, his words moved me.

My whole life, I've heard from my family that I'm nothing but my mistakes, they never let me forget it. I wasn't able to make an honest mistake and come back from it, once I made that mistake, it was over from there.

To hear that these people, this random group of strangers, wouldn't define me by my actions... It was freeing. It confused me, but it brought me an odd sense of peace.

"I hope you all enjoy your night, feel free to indulge in freedom."

Everyone jumps back into dinner, continuing their talk and laughter. As the man goes to walk away, we make brief eye contact. He sends me a smile before turning away, and starting to walk away from the group dinner.

I'm snapped out of my daze by Heather yanking me back down, immediately starting to ramble about who knows what.

Eventually, dinner finishes and Heather mentions something about helping out the kitchen with dishes, taking my tray along with a few others, and stacking them. My instincts tell me to offer help, not wanting to look like I'm mooching off of this makeshift family.

Before I could even offer my help, Chris placed a hand on my thigh. I look down at his hand before looking up at him, finding him closer than before.

"Did you want to take a walk with me before you go to bed?"

I'm sure I look stupid with the way I freeze, my mouth opening and closing like a fish. "She'd love to. Maybe you guys should walk by the lake?" My head snaps to Heather who looks nothing but supportive of the proposal.

I knew what she was doing, she was playing matchmaker. She had always done this, setting me up on multiple dates so I wouldn't be alone when she was out with her many boy toys. It never went well for me, the boys were assholes, or somehow I messed it up.

I go to deny the offer, not wanting to get involved with a boy so soon after everything that has happened to me, but I'm left with no choice when Chris guides me up from my seat.

"Come on, promise I won't keep you up for long."

He guides me away from the group, his hand wrapped in mine as we walk along the dusty dirt road. Eventually, we go off trail, his body ahead of mine as he pulls me through some trees.

"Where are we going?"

"Somewhere special."

It was special.

It was a lake, a beautiful lake.

The moonlight illuminated the dark waters, showing the small ripples due to the soft wind. I could make out some wildflowers growing along the edge, as well as cattails swaying in the wind.

I feel calm, the lake-scented air filling my nostrils, making me inhale deeply and close my eyes.

"You look good."

My eyes fly open, and I turn to Chris, "huh?"

"I said you look good...I should say calm. You just look more at peace from earlier." He sits down in the grass, motioning for me to follow. I settle down next to him, our knees touching as we sit crisscross.

We sit in silence for a few minutes, enjoying the peaceful scenery in front of us.

I decided to break the silence with a question.

"Who was that guy who spoke at dinner? He looked like you." He chuckles and begins picking at the grass, "Well, I would hope he looks like me, we are triplets after all. His name is Matthew, but everyone calls him Matt. Our other brother is Nick, he wasn't at dinner."

I hum in curiosity, I've never met triplets before. "Is he like...in charge or something?'

"Who, Matt or Nick?"

"Matt."

He clears his throat before nodding, "Yeah, he is. Matt organized this whole commune due to...due to something happening in our life. We decided to create our own family. Nick is second in command, I guess you could say. He just helps Matt out with the important stuff."

"So where does that leave you?" I question softly.

"Third in command. My job is to make sure everyone settles in nicely and to just make sure everyone is ok."

A part of me feels let down by his words. I know it would be too soon for him to find any interest in me, but I was starting to think he was taking a liking to me. He was nice and was already attentive, showing me the grace that I've never received from anyone but Heather.

I look away from him and back at the rippling waters, "Well, that's nice of you...I'm sure everyone is grateful to have a friendly face guiding them around."

"Yeah well, I don't give everyone the same attention I'm giving you. So there might be some jealousy rising soon."

His words make my heart skip a beat, my face tilting down as my cheeks warm, my coils falling in my face. Suddenly, I begin to feel drowsy, my eyes getting tired and the muscles in my body feeling loose.

I don't remember much after that, I'm not sure if we stayed by the lake longer or if he helped me back to the room.

All I know is that I felt good.

Like i finally found the thing I've been searching for since I was 7 years old.

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blinksie · 1 month ago

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characters from tma as customers at my store: part 1

jonathan sims: would come in to buy stationary or cigarettes, make a beeline for the aisles and try to ignore me. always seems to come in during the busiest hours. would quickly become lost or distracted, then accumulate a vast array of bullshit. would approach to grab a basket for his bullshit, still avoiding me. twenty to thirty minutes later depending on if there's a line he's avoiding, would silently approach, place his basket on the till and not say a word. when i inevitably ask how he is, he would jump like i had stuck him with a pin, mutter a "fine, thanks" and then stare at the floor until the whole affair was finished. pay with a card, walk out with his things, forget to buy cigarettes. come back in, run them, go pale when asked for an ID. because im nice, ill offer to scan my ID for him, and he'd be so eternally grateful i wouldnt put him through the extra mental gymnastics. get the cigarettes, forget his bags, come back again. mumble a "sorry, thanks" all embarassedly as he ducks out. probably forgot to buy a lighter-- will not go back for it. regular customer.

elias bouchard: he would only be at a store like this from pure necessity. would approach the counter straight away, despite me being with any customers, and ask where his goal item is, trying to speed up the process. inevitably, being one of the only two people on the floor, waiting on me would not speed up the process. id give him a good direction of where to find it-- most likely something like bread, milk, eggs, pens, etc, that would just be too inconvenient to go to a further store for. regardless, he'd take it straight from my head, retrieve his things, and wait in line disgustedly with the other customers. id ask how he was, and before i could finish my sentence, he'd cut me off with a "very well, thank you" and smile sort of menacingly at me, so i wouldn't say anything else. he'd pay in cash, and i'd drop his change from sheer nervousness. he'd ask for a receipt despite the fact that the receipt comes from the till on his side, and then hand it to me to be thrown away despite. i'd never see him again.

martin blackwood: he'd come in for groceries, napkins, cigarettes, treats or gum, anything you can think of, really. but only ever quite late at night, sometimes to the point of rushing in right before closing. quite annoying, but, he's polite so i never give him a fuss about it. if necessary, i prefer to approach him, tap on the shoulder, and quietly tell him the estimate of time he has before the store closes, rather than shout it down the aisles. he's very punctual about what he's getting, knowing where to find it, and knows the store and its workers well enough to stay on the pulse with the gossip. comes in with jon on occasion, who is also quite suckered in with the gossip-- martin seems to have to fill him in every time, though. he's very well updated on my love life. pays partially in cash, partially on card, depending on how recently he's been paid, and sometimes adds money to his card if he's got change left over, but never makes a big deal out of the whole affair. will always... ALWAYS forget he needs gum or candy until i've already rung everything up, so i've learned not to submit the till until he's absolutely sure. every other day regular.

sasha james: she's usually in a hurry and quite distracted. she'll only ever come in for a drink or to put money on her card, and is not the type to stay and chat UNLESS she overhears something interesting i and my coworkers are talking about. always has shit in her pockets or purse she's asking me to throw away, which i never mind. hands me the receipt trail from the till to throw away every time, and we always exchange coy smiles about the fact that i forget to grab it or get too busy to. it's a shock if she buys anything different. quick and to the point, lets me keep her change. rare visit.

tim stoker: is usually buying coffee, cigarettes, or instant microwavable meals. he's usually sleep deprived, in sunglasses, and goes about the whole thing on auto pilot. will approach the till with arms full of stuff and unceremoniously drop them, mutter an apology, and then right it all. complains about the smallness of the till quite often, but understands its not my fault. will ask if its been busy, or if im having a nice night, on occasion-- my answer is always the same. he'll tell me "don't work too hard" and i'll tell him the same. always cracks open his coffee on the way out. never fusses about being ID'd-- overall, a welcome regular.

michael shelley: has a sweet tooth, and comes in for tea-treats and candy. occasionally buys a coffee, less occasionally buys cigarettes, most likely for gertrude. will always spend a bit of time looking around the aisles but always buys the same thing-- every now and then, will politely ask i or the keyholder to check in the back for something out of stock, or ask when a truck will be by to refill stock, but never causes a fuss about it. is surprisingly hard to disappoint. looks like a kicked puppy. ive shot my shot a few times, asked about a girlfriend or boyfriend, and it went right over his head every time. gets bashful about being ID'd for the cigarettes-- once i asked if he wanted them in the bag with the rest of his things, and he looked at me as if id grown two heads, and asked where else he'd keep them? i didn't ask him again. pays in cash and loose change. weekly customer.

michael crew: quiet and reserved, sort of rude. he always comes in for snacks (nuts, jerky, cheese, etc) and coffee, and nearly always complains about the state of the store, despite coming in during post-rush. once asked if i was the only one who worked there, and when i replied that it was just i and my keyholder on the floor, scoffed and said that good work must be hard to come by, as if it was relatable. pays with a full hundred dollar bill (because this is america) and makes me break it up for him. once, i didnt have the money in my till to break it up, and he complained about having to wait for the safe to be unlocked to cash him out change. now asks if i have the money to break a bill in my till-- if not, pays with card. dreaded weekly regular.

gerard keay: mysterious hot stranger who comes in every blue moon for cigarettes and beer. he always comes in about an hour before closing-- smiles when he walks in but usually doesn't say anything. noticably watches the camera feeds as he passes by them, but never makes a comment. always gets the same thing, has only ever made a comment when the price of his cigarettes went up ("bloody hell, they're trying to make me quit, aren't they?"). usually asks how i am, and i'll usually riff with him. never fusses over being id'd other than searching his trenchcoat for it. i've probably giggled about how jingly he is. he's probably dumped out all of his loose change to demonstrate why. pays in cash and change, has me keep the leftover. always leaves his receipt. uncommon.

part 2 if this does well lol

#meow #tma #the magnus archives #jonathan sims #elias bouchard #martin blackwood #sasha james #tim stoker #michael shelley #gerard keay

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lycans-art-kingdom · 3 months ago

Text

This is a poem I wrote to just let out my feelings of lately..

Pen and Art. A Broken Heart.

Watch her surf and scroll, observing with jealous stares, the beautiful arts and pictures of those of whom she deeply cares. Her envy is bitter and her grudges grow, weighing even more an already heavy toll.

She wants to draw she wants to write she wants to create all day and night and yet like a curse a terror a fright her body is frail and in her mind is a constant fight.

a fight of envy of hatred of jealousy so deep watch it seep and creep to her heart as it seeks to toy and annoy and destroy her mind and soul this toll makes her dull and her head loud and full.

Why can't she better why can't she create! Everything is at risk it's all at stake! Her reputation her career as she's driven with a fear that all she held so close and dear will all soon disappear!

All she can do is lay and rot is this the best she really got she's an artist the world in her hands with paper and pen her fingers dance people and stories she has to tell but all of that just goes to hell cause' she's so unwell and the ringing of a bell of deadline rings and sings and brings her dreaded soul to see all the things her loved ones seams and the world is dark the beating in her heart it'll all fall apart AND YET SHE CAN'T START SHE CAN'T DO ART SHE CAN'T DO HER PART SHE WALLOWS AND SCREAMS AND BURSTS AT THE SEAMS WHY CAN'T I DRAW I'M JUST A FLAW NOTHING I DO IS GOOD AT ALL AND SCREAMING AND SCREAMING AND SCREAMING AND SCREAMING CLOUDER AND LOUDER AND DARKER AND HARDER THE SOUND IS LOUD I'M LETTING THEM DOWN THE CYCLE IT SPINS AROUND AND AROUND AND I CAN'T GET OUT AND ALL THESE DOUBTS BECOMING SO TRUE MY WORLD ANEW I CAN'T DENY THE REALITY ASIDE THE TRUTH IS ROUGH I'M NOT GOOD ENOUGH!

...

A tiger, a dog, a snake, a cat. A dragon, a mouse, an elf, a bat. Bubble and bubbles sweetest of hearts a metallic robot of bolts and parts. Birds that sing, aliens of stars, a cow a rat and the planet of mars. Entities beauties treasure to behold time and again to me they told my art is bold my kindness untold my friends here they won't disappear they will hold me dear through my fears and tears and all of my peers they were always here.

I scream and cry about my fears inside cast the bottle aside got nothing to hide my friends will listen they shine and glisten like angels above with their weapons of love.

My heart is lighter, they say i'm a fighter I've been through worse they are my reminder. I will live each day and night and life will be bright I will find my might.

For now I rest, my body a mess, nothing to fear nothing to hear my mind is again clear. My poem I end and my mind in zen.

Someday day again, I will pick up my pen.

People mentioned in this poem : @tigergirltail , @nyxisart , @ariathelamia , @ayviedoesthings , @prettiestplatypus , @squiretilde , @kaylasartwork , @bubbleverseart , @scrubbinn , @theshootingraistar , @vy-canis-melodis , @home-sweet-hive , @josphitia , @lynnsenpai , @dawning-mars

Those mentioned or not. Thank you for being my angels.

#lycan's howlings #kingdom lycan art #kingdom writing #animal hrt #furry hrt

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llamaqueenprompt · 1 day ago

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What You Mean to Me

Characters: Evan Buckley, Reader

Not Requested

Word Count: 1.6k

Inspiration: "You don't even realize what you mean to me"

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❁ Send me a request HERE

As he walks in the firehouse feels different.

Not in any obvious way. The lights are dimmed, the hum of the fridge still buzzes in the background, and someone left their coffee mug in the sink again. But Buck can feel it. Like the air’s heavier. Or maybe it’s just him.

He moves slowly through the halls, each step eachoing back louder than the last, like the firehouse is holding it’s breathe just like him. He’s still reeling. Still trying to process everything Abby said. Everything she didn’t say.

He tought it would give him closure. Seeing her again. Hearing her voice. Actually talking to her. But if anything it just peeled open wold wounds that had never fully healed.

She’s getting married. She’s finally happy again. And Buck? Buck is standing here, heart cracked open and filled with the image of someone else entirely.

Y/n.

He finds her in the back office, exactly where he knew she’d be. She’s leaning over her desk cluttered with paperwork and half-empty coffee cups, her glasses sliding down her nose and a pen twirling between her fingers. She looks tired, like she’s been working too long. Like maybe she’s been waiting up.

When she sees him, she glances up, and the second their eyes meet, something shifts.

“Hey,” she says, softly. Gently. Like she’s afraid she might startle him away. “You’re back.”

He nods, his throat thick. “Yeah. Just got in.”

Y/n straightens, setting the pen down carefully. “How… how did it go?”

Buck leans agaisnt the doorframe, arms folded across his chest to offer him a sense of security. “We talked. About the train. About…everything.”

She nods, and her eyes flick away, like she doesn’t want him to see what she’s thinking. But he sees it anayway, the flicker od pain, the way her shoulders tense.

“She’s engaged,” he says, voice barely above a whisper. “She met someone. Moved on.”

There’s a long silence.

Y/n swallows hard. “I’m sorry, Buck.”

But he shakes his head, stepping into the room. “No. Don’t be. That’s not why I’m here.”

She watches him carefully, warily. Like she’s bracing herself.

And she has every right to. Because what they had, what they have, has always lived on a fragile space. Somewhere between friendship and something more. Something unspoken. Their arrangement started with laughter and tequile and whispered “just this once” promises that turned into every night, and breakfast, and inside jokes, and familiarity that felt an awful lot like home.

They acted like a couple. They felt like one.

But Buck never let them be one. Not completely. Not whule Abby still haunted the edges of his heart.

And Y/n… God, Y/n stayed. She never asked for more. But he saw it. In the way she looked at him when she thought he wasn’t paying attention. In the way she said goodbye a little too softly each time he left her apartment.

She loved him. And he let her sit in silenece with it all this time.

“I need to tell you something,” he says, and his voice wavers.

Y/n tilts her head, her hands curling around the edge of the desk. She doesn’t speak. Just waits.

“When Abby left,” Buck begins, “I felt like I’d lost a part of myself. Like I wasn’t enough. Like I’d been left behind.” He lets out a shaky breath. “And then you came in. All sharp wit and warm smiles and coffee with may too much cream. You made everything lighter, Y/n. You made me lighter.”

She blinks fast, her lips parting, but he keeps going.

“And I told myself it wasn’t real. That if I didn’t name it, it couldn’t hurt. That if I pretended it didn’t mean anything, I could keep you without the risk of losing you.”

Her voice is barely a whisper. “But you were still holding onto her.”

He nods. “I was. And that’s not fair to you. It never was.”

Y/n looks down at her hands, her fingers tightening. “I told myself I could handle it. That I could keep you in pieces instead of not having you at all. But it hurt, Buck. Watching you love a ghost while I stood right in front of you.”

“I know,” he says, his chest tight. “And I’m so sorry for that. I should’ve said this a long time ago. I should’ve seen it. Seen you.”

He steps closer, close enought now that he can see the shine in her eyes, the way she’s holding herself still like she’s afraid one wrong move will make everything fall apart.

“I don’t know when it happened,” he says softly. “Maybe the night you stayed up with me after I got hurt. Or when you showed up at the hospital with snacks you knew I wouldn’t eat but brought anyway. Or that morning you kissed my forehead and didn’t realize I was already awake.”

Her breath hitches.

“I just know I looked at you tonight, and everything clicked. I didn’t want to go back in time. I didn’t want to rewrite anything with Abby. I just wanted to come home. To you.”

He reaches for her hand, hesitates, then wraps his fingers around hers when she doesn’t pull away.

“You don’t even realize what you mean to me,” he hesitates. “But I want you to. I want to show you. If you’ll let me.”

Y/n’s eyes close for a moment, and when she open them, they’re glassy with tears.

“You really mean that?” she asks, voice trembling.

He cups her cheek, brushing away a tear with the pad of his thumb. “With everything I’ve got.”

And then she’s pulling him in.

No hesitation, no fear, just her resting her arms around his neck and fingers tangled in his hair like she’s afraid if she’s not touching him as much as possible, he’ll disappear aagain. Buck doesn’t waste a seconf. He holds her back just as tightly, his face buried in her shoulder, like maybe if he presses close enoigh, all the pieces of him, she’s quietly been carrying, will finally come home.

For a moment, neither of them speak. They just breathe. One another. Their feelings for each other.

The silence stretches, but it’s not awkward or heavy. It’s safe. Intimate. The kind of silence that only comes when words aren’t big wnough to hold everything between two people.

Eventually, Y/n pulls back just enough to look at him, her forehead still resting gently against his. Her eyes search his face, as if she’s memorizing the way he looks he looks at her like she is his world.

“You have no idea how long I’ve waited to hear you say that,” she murmurs, the corners of her mouth trembling with the beginnings of a smile.

He exhales a soft laugh, one hand still resting on her wais. “I think I’ve been saying it without words for months. I just didn’t realize it.”

Y/n runs her fingers through his hair, slow and tentative, like she’s still trying to convince herself she isn’t dreaming. “I used to imagine this moment. You showing up, saying you wanted me. Choosing me. But I always woke up before the good part.”

“This is the good part,” Buck says, his voice low and certain.

She laughs, a watery, broken sound, and presses a hand to his chest, right over his heart. “I was so scared you’d go see her and realize I was just… a placeholder. Someone to make the quiet nights easier.”

“You were never a placeholder,” he says fiercely, his hand coming up to cover hers. “Y/n, you filled the space I dind’t could ever be filled. You brought me back to myself. You’ve been there tjrough every storm, and I was too blind to see that you weren’t just helping me survive…you were the reason I wanted to.”

He watched as her eyes fill again, but this time, it’s not just pain. It’s from love, open and shining and completely unhidden now.

She leans in, brushing her lips to his, soft at first, just a question, and when he answers with a deep, reverent kiss in return, it feel like the beginning of everything they never tjought they’d get to have.

The kiss in gentle and slow, not rushed like the stolen ones in dim hallways or post-shift goodbyes. It’s full of everything they’d left unsaid: I missed you. I wanted you. I love you.

When they finally break apart, Buck rests his forehead against hers again, his voice barely more than a whisper.

“I want to do this right. No hiding. No halfway. I want breakfasts with terrible coffee and real dates and someone who keep stealing my hoodies even though she has her own.”

Y/n grins, teary-eyed and radiant. “I make your coffee better than anyone here, and you know it.”

“I do,” he says, his smile wide and boyish and utterly Buck. “And I want to fall asleep next to you without pretending it’s just for tonight. I want to wake up knowing I don’t have to say goodbye when I leave. I want us.”

Y/n nods, emotion tightening her throat, but she still finds the words. “Then we’re done pretending.”

He brushes a kiss to her forehead, then her temple, then finally, her lips again, soft and sure.

Outside, the firehouse is still. Quiet. But inside this small office, everything has shifted. The weight has lifted. The longing has found its answer.

And for the first time in a long time, Buck isn’t running toward the past.

He’s standing still, holding the future in his arms.

#evan buckley #evan buckley x reader #evan buckley fic #evan buckley fanfic #evan buckley imagine #9 1 1 fanfic #9 1 1 imagine

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pankowcrumbs · 2 days ago

Text

Matchmaker X Will Poulter

MasterList

If you’d told me the highlight of my week would be Joseph Quinn playing Cupid at his own house party, I’d have laughed in your face. And yet, here I was standing in the middle of his very stylish flat in Camden, clutching a glass of wine, trying not to visibly stare at Will Poulter across the room.

“So,” Joseph said, suddenly appearing at my side like he’d apparated there. “Met Will yet?”

I gave him a sideways look. “You’ve mentioned him three times already and, no, I haven’t.”

“Well, let’s fix that, shall we?” he said far too eagerly.

“Joseph.”

“What?” he blinked, all faux innocence. “You’re both tall, absurdly charming, and enjoy sarcastic banter. It’s practically fate.”

I laughed into my wine glass. “You’re insufferable.”

“But adorable.”

“Debatable.”

He grinned and leaned in slightly. “Just… be open-minded, alright?”

I rolled my eyes, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t curious. I’d known Joseph since our Stranger Things days. We’d clicked almost instantly he was like the chaotic older brother I never knew I needed. And when he invited me to this party, I thought it’d be a good excuse to catch up, drink wine, and wear something sparkly. I didn’t think he had matchmaking plans.

And yet… every time I turned around, there was Will. First by the drinks table. Then near the speakers. Then casually standing behind me in line for the loo. Coincidence? Maybe. But more likely, Joseph was subtly puppeteering our entire social orbit.

When I finally caught Will’s eye, he smiled and it wasn’t just a “hey, I’ve seen you around” kind of smile. It was warm. Soft. Like he already knew I’d laugh at his jokes and remember how he takes his tea.

“Hi,” he said, stepping over. “I feel like we’ve been orbiting each other all night.”

I let out a breath of laughter. “Was starting to think Joseph’s been playing Sims with us.”

He laughed, and it was the kind of laugh that made you want to say something funny again just to hear it. “Wouldn’t surprise me. He’s been giving me looks all evening. Like I’m missing something obvious.”

“Same.”

Will raised his glass. “To being pawns in Joseph Quinn’s dating chessboard.”

I clinked mine gently against his. “Cheers to that.”

We ended up finding a quiet-ish spot in Joseph’s tiny garden, away from the music and the steady rise of chaos inside. It was draped in fairy lights, a little bench nestled among a few overgrown plants. We sat down without even really thinking about it.

“So,” Will said, settling beside me, “what’s your connection to the puppet master?”

“I worked on Stranger Things with him,” I said. “Hair and makeup. We got on immediately. I think it’s because I kept telling him he looked like a Victorian poet who’d lost his pen.”

Will laughed, a proper, from-the-belly kind of laugh. “He does have tortured artist vibes.”

“Exactly,” I grinned. “What about you?”

“We just did a film warfare together. He’s one of the good ones.”

“He is,” I agreed softly, glancing back towards the house.

We fell into easy conversation after that like the kind you don’t realise is happening until you’ve been talking for half an hour and your wine glass is still half full. Will was funny. Like, genuinely funny. Not in a performative way, but in that effortless, observational way that made everything feel a bit lighter.

“I feel like I’ve seen you in a million things,” I said at one point. “And yet I’m still surprised every time you show up with a completely different look.”

He grinned. “Comes with the job. One minute I’m a Marvel hero, the next I’m in a gritty BBC drama crying in a rain-soaked alley.”

“Range,” I said, impressed. “Emotional squinting in the rain is a very specific skill.”

“I pride myself on it.”

The night wore on. People came and went. Joseph popped out at one point, glanced at us, and muttered “finally” under his breath before disappearing back inside.

“I feel like we should thank him,” Will said, smirking.

“Not yet. Don’t want to encourage him.”

Will turned slightly on the bench, his knee brushing mine. “Can I ask you something a bit forward?”

I tilted my head. “Sure.”

“Why are you single?”

It wasn’t said with arrogance. It wasn’t even flirty. Just… curious. Like he genuinely wanted to understand.

I blinked. “I… honestly don’t know. Timing? Work’s been intense. I travel a lot. And maybe I just haven’t met someone who makes me want to rearrange my life.”

His gaze softened. “Fair.”

He paused. “Is it weird that I feel like I’ve known you longer than just tonight?”

“Not weird,” I said. “Just nice.”

We sat in the soft hum of the garden for a beat. Then he said, “Would you want to do this again sometime? Just… you and me? No Joseph meddling?”

I smiled. “I’d like that.”

A week later, we went for coffee at a tiny place near Hampstead Heath. It rained halfway through our walk, and we ducked under a tree, laughing like kids. Will took off his jacket and held it over us dramatically.

“Chivalry isn’t dead,” he said.

“No, but your jacket might be,” I laughed. “It’s getting soaked.”

He shrugged. “Worth it.”

And somehow, every moment after that just… flowed. Simple. Easy. Like we’d always been meant to find each other, we’d just needed a gentle shove from our mutual chaos goblin of a friend.

That night, Will texted me.

WILL: “Still can’t believe it took a house party and Joseph Quinn’s meddling to meet you.”

ME: “And to think, I almost didn’t go.”

WILL: “Thank God you did.”

#fanfiction #reader #x reader #one shot #will poulter imagine #will poulter x reader #will poulter one shot #will poulter fanfic #will poulter #joseph quinn #strangerthings #stranger things #warfare

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larissasgirl · 9 months ago

Note

Can I request some HEAVY fluff with regina where reader have a terrible period (cramps, heavy flow, fatigue, always hungry, and just constant sobbing. Yes I'm on my period and I hate everything (except your writing)) (i love your writing)

You can always call me

Helllooo! Better late than never👉👈 Once again, sorry for the mistakes. As my friend would say, I'm just a girl😂 Hope you like it🥺

Saying you were in a bad mood was an understatement. Truth to be told, you weren’t angry per say, but rather in pain. In so much pain that it would knock the wind out of your lungs as you waited for the waves to pass. You had always been truly lucky in that department, as you could go months without feeling any discomfort. But when it happened, when it would be the exception, it would make up for the ones that were pain free. It made it almost impossible for you to function normally.

You had woken up after your girlfriend, as you reached next to you for Regina, only to find her side of the bed cold and empty. You knew she was under a lot of pressure lately, always going to work before you were even up and coming back at crazy hours of the night. You sighed as you started feeling the familiar wave of pain slowly creeping its way back to you when you got up and got dressed, only for it to grow in intensity as the day progressed. You had contemplated calling in sick, but you knew how hard it was to find a substitute at the last minute, and you truly didn’t have the energy to make up a lesson plan for the day to give it to them. You were working with Mary Margaret at the elementary school, which happened to be the perfect job for you. Regina would often roll her eyes and call you a child, but you could always see through her fake annoyance whenever she said it. She adored you. She adored the way you would often come home with messy braids done by your students during recess and your arms full of drawings, with I love you’s written in messy handwritings and mistakes, which she knew made your heart a little lighter. She loved how happy the tiny humans made you, how you’d often randomly get an idea of an activity during dinner and shared it with her excitedly, wanting her opinion on it. She loved the way you cared so much, not only for them, but for everyone around you. You were a breath of fresh air when she thought she was meant to be alone for the rest of her life, and she absolutely adored everything about you.

But today, you were completely drained, and you knew even though you were in pain, your kids would still be full of energy. In times like these, you would curse in every language you knew in your head, to be sure that the tiny humans wouldn’t hear, of course. You had managed to push though the morning by sitting down as much as you could, the medication you had taken after waking up slowly losing its effect. You were so thankful when the bell rang for lunch as the kids all rushed to the cafeteria, finally letting your head drop on your arms. You felt like you couldn’t move from your desk, the pain becoming unbearable by the minute.

“Hey, Y/N, do you think I can borrow a…” Mary Margaret, as her usual cheerful self, had just stormed in your classroom, looking to borrow something from you as she did every day. She was always a bit distracted and often misplaced her belongings, and you would usually just shake your head smiling before lending her your pen, your sharpener, or even your paper trimmer. “Are you alright?” she had stopped in her tracks when she had noticed your posture, and you slowly raised your head before you forced a smile on your face.

“I’m just in a little pain, but it will pass,” you shrugged it off as if you hadn’t wished to disappear into the ground over and over again just seconds before. You forced yourself to get up from your chair, leaning on your desk with both hands as a wave of dizziness suddenly washed over you. It wasn’t uncommon that the pain would lead to you to be physically sick, getting too much for your body to cope. Hopefully, it wouldn’t be in front of Mary Margaret and at your desk.

“Are you sure? You’re as white as a ghost,” she rushed to your side when she noticed your struggling, grabbing your forearms and helping you sitting down once again.

“It’s just my stupid period, I’m not the first neither the last,” you mumbled before reaching for your bag under your desk, attempting to find your medication in the mess you had made when you packed it up this morning.

“I think you should go home, Y/N. You’re clearly in pain,” you missed the way her brows furrowed when another wave of pain rushed over you, a small whimper leaving your lips.

“It’s too complicated. Besides, the day is almost over” you sighed, before finally finding what you were looking for in your bag, as you grabbed your water bottle to swallow the pill, hoping it would take effect quickly.

“If by almost over, you mean the hour that will be the lunch break plus the entire afternoon, you’re clearly not thinking straight. Come on, get your things and I’ll take care of everything,” she argued, her hands on her hips, her brown eyes defying you to refuse. With a sigh and no strength to fight back, you started grabbing your things on your desk, missing the way she quickly pulled out her phone from her pockets before typing something and putting it back there before helping you to get your belongings.

“Thank you, and I’m sorry,” you whispered the last part, ashamed of yourself for leaving work before the end of the day knowing she had to cover for you.

“Don’t be sorry, I’d rather have you back feeling better so I can keep borrowing your things. Nobody else will let me,” she joked, trying to lighten the mood, which seemed to work as it made you smile a little before guiding you to the school’s front doors. She held it open for you, pointing at the black Mercedes that was parked right in front of you. It took you a second to recognize it, even though it seemed oddly familiar, the sun blinding you momentarily.

“Did you seriously called Regina?” your eyes widened, feeling a headache forming behind your eyelids. You rubbed them off with your fists like a child, not caring about the mascara you had quickly put on earlier, which made Mary Margaret beam at you when some fell under your eyes, completely obnoxious of the anxiety raising inside of you. She waved at Regina who was walking towards you with her lips pressed together, an indication she was not happy. You were in trouble big time.

“I didn’t called, I texted her. See you later!” she turned on her heels and walked back into the school before you could answer back. You now understood a little better why Regina was aiming for her head back in the Enchanted Forest. You turned your gaze back to your girlfriend, who grabbed your bag from your shoulder, noticing the way her jaw was clenched, her eyes boring into yours with an expression you only took for anger even though her movements were nothing but gentle.

“I’m so sorry Regina, I didn’t know she would bother you at work,” you hesitated, looking at your feet, not daring to meet her eyes. It seemed so silly to pull her out of her office when you knew she was so busy simply because you had your period.

She grabbed your chin with her hand, her thumb slowly brushing circles on your cheek as she forced you to meet her eyes. They were much softer now, almost glossy, and you realized that what you had mistaken for irritation was worry.

“You never bother me,” she pulled you close to her, holding you the closest she possibly could, your face finding its usual spot in her neck. You breathed in her scent, your shoulders dropping as the anxiety left your body before wrapping your arms around her waist as tightly as you could. “I want you to call me when you’re in pain,” she whispered into your hair, swinging you lightly from side to side. “I want to be there for you, Y/N,” she pulled back to look at your face, but keeping you close to her, your eyes flooded with tears as she gently brushed away the ones that managed to escape. “You always come first. Please, never hesitate to call me.”

You were sure your knees would give in if she wasn’t holding you close to her, the love and worry filling her beautiful brown eyes making a new wave of tears escaping your owns. You simply nodded as she softly grabbed your hand, not before wiping the tears from your cheeks once again and kissing it when she was done. The way she would drop her stubborn, sarcastic attitude and become so caring, so gentle with you, even though you were in public, and no matter who watched never ceased to amaze you. It almost made you sob. “Let’s go home now, shall we?”

She led you to the passenger’s side of her car and opened the door for you, as you sat down with another wave of pain stealing your breath away. She noticed immediately, being familiar with your often painful episodes from the year you’d been together, and gently kissed your forehead before closing the door and making her way to the other side, sitting down behind the wheel and driving off right away. “We’ll be home soon, and then I can put warm water to heat for the bag and make you tea. Deal?” she briefly looked at you to make sure you had heard her before returning her attention on the road, seeing you nod in the corner of her yes.

“And we can cuddle?” you whispered, so quietly that she almost didn’t hear it.

Regina smiled widely and glanced at you again, pulling a hand just above your knee, rubbing your skin softly with her thumb. “Yes darling, we can cuddle,” she laughed, making you blush at the nickname, and also because you knew it meant she had taken the rest of the day off to spend it with you. It made your heart swell with love for the woman sitting next to you, not taking your eyes off her for the duration of the drive.

It appeared to be much faster than usual, even though you didn’t lived too far from the school. You blamed it on your fuzzy brain and on your lack of concentration, being too busy staring at your girlfriend, not knowing Regina had sped up a little, hating to see you hurting so much and wanting to take care of you as soon as possible. She helped you to get out of the car and argued with you over carrying your bag inside, before you finally gave in and let her do it. She opened the door and you went in, letting yourself fall on the couch with a sight. You closed your eyes and tried to take deep breaths, hence why you didn’t noticed when your girlfriend wrapped your shoulders with your favorite blanket that had little brown bears that you absolutely adored and that she hated, stating it was made for children and that she wasn’t one. It made you giggle a bit when you peeked through your heavy eyelids to see what she had wrapped you in with, only to notice she wasn’t next to you anymore.

“And what are you laughing at exactly?” she questioned from the kitchen, leaning in the doorframe to get a better look at you. You figured she had put water to boil as you noticed the empty water bag in her hand, your eyes softening even more at the sight in front of you.

“You gave me your favorite blanket,” your mouth was curved into a soft smile, hinting that you were finding it utterly adorable and were simply teasing her a little.

She rolled her eyes but smirked at you, happy to see you almost back to normal, turning her attention back to the kettle, the high pitching noise indicating the water was hot. She carefully filled the water bag and screw the lid shut as tight as she could, as the last thing she wanted to do was to burn you. Then, she reached for the tea box and quickly filled a cup with water before making her way back to you, setting the fuming mug on the living room’s small table and handing you the now warm water bag. She sat next to you, her leg touching yours, and studied your face carefully for any signs of discomfort. She was relieved to see the colors returning to your face slowly, having also noticed that you were paler than usual when she had picked you up.

“Thank you, Gina,” you smiled gratefully at her, the warmth seeming to help with the pain almost instantly, and the medication from earlier having probably kicked in too, a sigh of relief escaping your lips. “Lie down with me?” you battled your eyelashes and gave her a little pout when she unwrapped the blanket from your shoulders, feeling cold immediately. She kissed your lips gently before laying down on the couch, pulling you down with her, being careful to leave enough space for you to place the water bag. She draped the blanket on you both this time, which almost made you want to tease her again for being wrapped in the blanket she seemed to hate so much. You immediately wrapped your arms around her after making sure the bag would hold itself in place between you two, nuzzling your face in her neck and placing a kiss that made her shiver. She felt your lips curl into a smile again her skin at her reaction, holding you tighter than before.

“Thank you for everything. I love you, Gina” you mumbled, feeling exhausted from the pain that seemed to temporarily have given you a break.

“I love you too, sweetheart. I’ll always take care of you,” her nails tracing your back made it hard to stay awake, feeling more than content wrapped safely in your girlfriend’s arms. “Close your pretty eyes, I’ll still be there when you wake up,” she whispered, placing a kiss on the top of your head. And you did, knowing that no matter what happened, you’d always be safe with Regina by your side.

#regina mills x reader #x reader

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doestalker · 8 months ago

Note

in smoker geto we trust 🛐

yes we dooo so here's more smoker!geto !!

your legs wobbled and seemed to have a mind of their own as you tried to navigate through the sweaty bodies in the nightclub. the colorful lights blurred your vision, and you were pretty sure you stepped on more than a few toes with your heels. the music's heavy bass thudded in your chest, and instead of pulling you in, it made you feel more disconnected. the air was thick with a mixture of perfume and the smell of too many bodies together, it was all too much. fuck, i need some fresh air, you thought as you pushed foward towards the inviting green sign that read 'exit'.

as you stepped outside, finally breaking free from the chaos of the club, the cool air hit your face, a refreshing contrast to the stifling heat inside. you fumbled with your coat, trying to slip it on, and staggered slightly before finding your balance. leaning against the rough brick wall next to the entrance, you took a moment to steady yourself, savoring the crisp night air as it began to soothe your senses.

out of the corner of your eye, you could see someone was standing a few feet away from you, on the other side of the door. you turned your head a little, it was one of the kitchen staff taking a smoke break, judging by the basic white tee under a black apron.

he wore his long hair like a cloak of jet black, while his weary eyes were framed by faint dark circles, revealing a depth of fatigue—evident even from a distance. a cigarette, halfway burned, dangled from his lips. the glow of ember lit up his face amid the darkness of the street as he exhaled a thin stream of smoke, his head resting against the wall, watching it swirl up into the night.

for a moment, he caught you staring and you blushed. despite his tired looks, he was undeniably attractive and you were sure you looked a mess of frizzy hair and sweaty makeup. he gave you a lazy side smirk.

"can i have one?" you asked, voice cracking a little mid sentence. you cleared your throat.

he looked you up and down, then let out a soft, amused laugh. "what's the magic word, princess?" his voice was like velvet—soft and deep, as if the cheshire cat had stepped out of the shadows and become human.

you ignored the heat burning in the pit of your stomach. "please?"

his smile widened, accentuating his monolids and wrinkling the outer corners of his eyes. with a casual grace, he reached into the front pocket of his apron and pulled out a pack of menthol cigarettes. he picked one and handed it to you.

as you put the filter over your lips, you turned to him, a touch of embarrassment on your eyes. "do you have a lighter?" you asked, your voiced tinged with shyness from asking him for something again.

he chuckled softly, brushing off your embarrassment with a reassuring nod as he walked over to stand in front of you. he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small silver lighter. with a flick of his thumb, the metal wheel sparked and a tiny flame flickered to life. he held the lighter steady, the warm glow briefly illuminating your face, as he brought it closer to the cigarette on your lips.

you breathed in the intoxicating blend of his cologne and nicotine as you took a deep drag, and he watched with a faint, satisfied smile, his eyes still twinkling with that lazy, knowing glint.

"what's your name?" you asked, exhaling the smoke through your nostrils.

"suguru geto," replied the tired man in front of you. you couldn’t help but think that exhaustion had never looked so attractive on anyone else. "my break's over, but here," he said, pulling a pen out of his apron pocket and taking your hand. he scribbled his number in black ink on your forearm before giving you a mischiveous wink. "in case you're out of lighters."

#❤︎₊ ⊹ doe's works #suguru geto #suguru geto drabble #suguru geto x reader #suguru x reader #suguru x you #suguru geto x you #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x you #jjk x reader #jjk drabble #suguru geto headcanon #geto x reader #geto x you #geto drabble #drabble #sfw #jjk sfw

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jello-library · 6 months ago

Text

The Roommate Program (PT 2/?)

Finally part 2!! This one focus more on the reader/self insert!

Also I want to try writing the letters so you can get a feel of what being written instead of just getting vague descriptions!

I hope you enjoy it! 💛

Your first letter from your pen pal was…something else…to say the least. Paired with a prickly friendship bracelet. You felt like you opened Pandora's box with that first letter.

You sigh as you sit down in your office chair looking down at the blank sheet of paper nervously. What in the world do you write back? I mean, writing a letter about yourself is easy but continuing conversations is harder than it looks. What do you say now “Hey I heard you went to solitary confinement was it fun?” Like how you continue talking with him?!

Twirling the pen in your hands your wings twitch and flutter nervously. You joined the program because being a past patient at the Theraprism who managed to opt out of the recarnation ceremony praise the axolotl for that one. You thought it was nice to try to give back to them you know to show that redemption is worth the effort! You felt like you had a pleasant experience there or maybe because you were more cooperative than your peers.

But after the copious amount of interviews and several months of being on the waiting list.

You finally were met with a small envelope congratulating you on your approval into the program and your pen pal. You thought things were finally going well for a chance.

Until…you were brought to have a one-on-one conversation with THE Axolotl themselves you felt like maybe this wasn’t a good idea anymore…They wanted to talk about your pen pal, Bill Cipher. You were somewhat familiar with the name mostly being associated with the chaos he left in his wake.

He was a force to be reckoned with.

Was…

“He is someone who is quite..um…complex..” Look up from your teacup to glance at the other being across the table. The word “Complex” still feels like an understatement to you. The axolotl smiled down at your eyes laced with slight concern before continuing.

“I’ve read your file..” Shit. ”You seem to have been the star patient during your stay. Self-admitted leading to 500,000 years stay before you were released. The top storyteller during puppet hour.“

You can feel yourself getting hot with embarrassment as you sink into your seat. “Yeah, Dr.Oswald says he misses my shows…” You swirl around the remaining tea left within the cup. You don’t know what to say or why they brought you here to begin with. Did all the other participants go through this conversation as well?

“I already know why he joined the program. But I hope for a better outcome than another trip to Wellness Void and I think you can help me with that.”

Looking back down at the blank sheet of paper the pen feels more lighter in your hand now. Just breathe and relax if you mess up you can fix it later.

Dear Bill,

Sorry for my first letter being so plain I can honestly admit I’m a bit nervous about messing this up. I never knew how to talk to someone without it feeling awkward so this is a new step for me. As someone who used to be in the same position you’re in I feel like I can you some advice on how to make your stay less boring! Like, if you want to get out of group therapy it’s time to start taking advantage of art time!

Start doing big projects that take up time with this when art time is over you can ask to stay. But it’s important to say it so can present your piece to the next time group therapy session! Use this advice sparingly those counselors in there are nice but they ain’t dumb! Also if the vending machine is still in the cafeteria hold down on the C button it should give you an extra snack but it’s sadly randomized.

Well, I hope this letter finds you well and also thank you for the bracelet I hope to make you something special when I write to you again!

Sincerely,

██████

#gravity falls x reader #gravity falls #bill cipher x reader #self insert #s/o #the book of bill #x reader #bill cipher #bill ci the triangle guy #gf au #gravity falls au #the roommate program #TRMP AU #gravity falls x black reader #black!y/n #black y/n #black reader #black self ship #black self shipper

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earthtoharlow · 4 months ago

Text

Don’t Like The Lights

Sequel to Flashing Lights series, must read Flashing Lights first to understand

20. Blame On Me

Series Masterlist

Maryse sat in the cozy dimly lit room, hands clasped tightly in her lap. She glanced around, taking in the bookshelf filled with self-help titles and the calming artwork on the walls, but none of it settled the nervous energy bubbling inside her. This was her first therapy session, and although she knew she needed it, she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was out of place.

The therapist, a kind-eyed woman with a warm smile, sat across from her, pen and notepad in hand. “Take your time,” she said gently. “We don’t have to dive in right away. This space is for you, at your own pace.”

Maryse nodded, her throat tightening as she tried to find her voice. “I’m not really sure where to start,” she admitted with a sheepish smile. “I’ve never done this before.”

“That’s okay,” the therapist assured her. “Why don’t you tell me what brought you here today?”

Maryse hesitated, her fingers fiddling with the hem of her oversized sweatshirt. “Well… my partner—he suggested it,” she began. “He said I’ve been holding a lot in, especially after having the twins and, you know… the stalker incident last year.”

The therapist nodded, her expression encouraging but not intrusive. “It sounds like you’ve been through a lot. And it’s wonderful that you have someone in your life who cares so much about your well-being.”

A small smile tugged at Maryse’s lips. “He’s the best,” she said softly. “But… sometimes I feel like I’m letting everyone down if I’m not okay. Like I have to keep going, keep being strong, for him, for the kids, for my career.”

The words spilled out before she could stop them, and her voice cracked slightly at the end. She quickly looked away, blinking back the tears threatening to fall.

“It’s a lot to carry,” the therapist said gently. “But you don’t have to carry it all by yourself. That’s what this space is for—so you can let some of it out and start to heal.”

Maryse nodded, exhaling shakily as the weight of her emotions began to surface. For the first time in a long time, she felt like she didn’t have to hold it all together. It was terrifying but also a little freeing.

As the session went on, she found herself opening up more, sharing pieces of her struggles and fears. By the time it ended, she felt lighter—not completely, but enough to make her realize that this might actually help.

Maryse left her first therapy session feeling nervous but hopeful. The therapist had encouraged her to take small steps in opening up to the people closest to her, especially Jack. “Start with something specific,” her therapist had said. “Talk about your mom guilt. Let him in.”

Later that evening, Maryse found Jack in the living room, slouched on the couch, flipping through TV channels aimlessly. His posture alone told her he’d had a rough day.

“Hey,” she said softly, sitting beside him. “You okay?”

He sighed, rubbing his temples. “Not really. Studio was a mess today. Couldn’t get the sound right, producers kept switching things up, and I’m just over it.”

Maryse hesitated, the assignment from her therapist still fresh in her mind. She reached for his hand, trying to find the right moment. “I wanted to talk to you about something,” she started cautiously.

“Can it wait?” he muttered, not looking at her. “I’m not really in the mood for anything heavy right now.”

Her heart sank, but she pressed on, her voice a little firmer this time. “It’s important. I’ve been feeling… I don’t know, overwhelmed, I guess. Like I’m not doing enough for the twins, or that I’m not a good mom because I’m away sometimes.”

Jack sighed again, this time louder, and leaned back on the couch. “Babe, you’re overthinking it. The kids are fine. You’re fine. Can we just not do this right now?”

The dismissive tone stung more than she expected. She bit her lip, fighting back tears, and nodded silently. “Okay. I’ll let you relax,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper, before standing and walking toward the twins’ room.

Once inside, she found herself pacing, frustration bubbling up. She didn’t want to push him on a bad day, but it hurt to feel like her emotions were being brushed aside.

She spotted London lying in her crib, wide awake but quiet, her big eyes staring at the mobile above her. Maryse scooped her up gently, holding her close and peppering her with soft kisses.

“Hey, baby girl,” she whispered, her voice shaky as she tried to soothe herself through London. “At least you’re always here for me, huh?”

London cooed softly, her tiny hands reaching for Maryse’s face, and Maryse let out a weak laugh, the weight of her frustration still pressing down on her chest.

Over the next few days, Maryse barely spoke to Jack. She went about her routine, caring for the twins and avoiding him as much as possible. When he tried to initiate small talk, she responded with short, curt answers. Meanwhile, she started packing a bag for herself and the twins bit by bit, trying not to make it obvious but unable to fully hide her intentions.

It wasn’t until the third evening that Jack noticed her pulling baby clothes from the dresser into a tote bag. “Yo, what’s your problem?” he asked, standing in the doorway, arms crossed.

She paused, her back still to him, then turned around slowly. “My problem? My problem is that when I tried to talk to you about something important, you brushed me off like I was annoying you,” she snapped.

Jack frowned, running a hand down his face. “I didn’t brush you off. I just had a bad day! I’m doing my best here, but I’m not a mind reader, M. How am I supposed to know what you need if you don’t tell me?”

“You didn’t even try to listen!” she shot back, her voice rising. “I finally worked up the courage to talk to you about how I’ve been feeling, and you couldn’t even give me five minutes of your time. Instead, you made me feel like what I’m going through doesn’t matter.”

“That’s not fair,” he countered, his voice defensive but softer now. “You know I care about you and the kids. I’m just trying to juggle everything too.”

“Well, congratulations, you’re juggling so well you’ve managed to drop me,” she said bitterly. “So, until you figure out how to actually listen and care about what I’m saying, I’m taking the twins to my parents’ house.”

Jack’s eyes widened. “What? You’re overreacting—”

“Am I? Or am I just making sure I’m around people who actually notice when I’m drowning?” she interrupted. She zipped up the tote bag with a dramatic tug.

She brushed past him, leaving him standing in stunned silence as she headed to the nursery to get the twins.

Maryse was in the nursery, gently dressing London while Noah sat in his bouncer, kicking his little feet. She moved methodically, her hands steady despite the storm of emotions swirling inside her. Jack followed her into the room, his voice firm but not harsh.

“Maryse, stop,” he said, “We need to talk about this.”

Without looking at him, she adjusted London’s tiny socks and shook her head. “No, I tried talking. You didn’t want to hear me then, so why should I believe you want to hear me now?”

He sighed and pushed off the doorframe, taking a few steps closer. “I wasn’t in the right headspace that day. I know I messed up, but walking out with the kids isn’t the answer.”

She finally looked up at him, her eyes sharp. “You don’t get to decide what the answer is for me. You made it clear I was just another thing on your list of problems that day. I’m not going to beg you to care.”

Jack ran another hand through his hair in frustration. “You know I care. I’ve been here every step of the way, trying to support you and the twins. I’m not perfect, but I’m trying.”

“Trying?” she repeated, her voice bitter. “Trying would’ve been sitting down with me when I told you I was struggling instead of brushing me off. Trying would’ve been hearing me when I needed you instead of making excuses.”

He crouched down to her level as she adjusted London’s tiny jacket as she placed her in her car seat, his tone softening. “I hear you now, though. Don’t leave, please. Let’s just talk.”

But she stood up, moving to get Noah. “No, Jack. I don’t want to talk anymore. You didn’t listen when it mattered. I’ll be at my mom’s. Maybe you can use the quiet to figure out what you want to say.”

Her words hit him hard, and he knew there was no stopping her at that moment. As she buckled Noah in, she added quietly, “I’m not trying to punish you—I just can’t keep feeling like this in my own home.”

He swallowed, his throat tight, but said nothing as she lifted the car seats and walked past him.

Jack eventually followed her to the front door, his voice sharper now, frustration bubbling over. “So that’s it? You’re just gonna take my kids and leave like this? You don’t think this is a little childish?”

Maryse spun around, her hand still gripping the car seat handle. Her eyes blazed as she snapped back, “They’re not just your kids, Jackman. They’re ours. And I’m doing what I think is best for my sanity and their well-being because clearly, staying here and feeling invisible isn’t working for me.”

“I feel like you’re trying to make me the bad guy.”

“You think this is about making you the bad guy?” she said, her voice trembling with anger and hurt. “This is about me needing to be heard, needing to feel like my feelings matter too. But every time I try, it’s like talking to a brick wall.”

He clenched his jaw, his hands on his hips, trying to steady his tone. “You don’t have to run to your mom’s house to make a point.”

She exhaled sharply, shaking her head. “This isn’t about making a point. This is about me feeling like I’m not drowning for once. And if I have to leave to get that, then so be it.”

As she opened the door, she turned back one last time, her voice quieter but no less firm. “I love you.” knowing that he needed to hear her say it.

“I know.” Jack said and gave her a nod. Maryse sighed and with that, she stepped outside, the door closing behind her with a weight that lingered in the air.

***

Jack was lying on the couch, staring at the ceiling, the house unbearably quiet without Maryse and the twins. He hadn’t heard from her since she left, and guilt was slowly sinking in.

His phone buzzed on the coffee table, and he grabbed it without looking at the caller ID. “Hello?”

Before he could say another word, his mom’s sharp voice cut through the line like a whip. “What the hell did you do, Jackman?”

He sat up straight, alarmed. “What? What are you talking about?”

“Oh, don’t play dumb with me,” she snapped. “Maryse called me crying—crying—and said she took my grandbabies to her mom’s house because she needed a break from you. A break from you, Jack! What did you do to her?”

Jack groaned, running a hand down his face. “Ma, it’s not that simple—”

“Not that simple? Let me tell you what’s simple, boy,” she cut him off, her voice heated. “You’ve got a woman who gave you two beautiful babies, and she’s trying to handle being a mom while still figuring out her own stuff, and instead of supporting her, you’re pushing her away! That’s what’s simple!”

“I’m not pushing her away!” he protested, though the defensiveness in his tone wasn’t helping his case.

“Oh, really?” she fired back. “Because from what I’m hearing, you encouraged her to go to therapy, and now that she’s trying to open up to you, you’re shutting her down! What kind of sense does that make?”

Jack froze at that, the truth of her words hitting him like a punch to the gut. He didn’t have a response, and his mom took the silence as her cue to keep going.

“She’s already feeling guilty and overwhelmed, and she’s trying to do what you suggested—trying to talk—and you pushed her away. How do you think that makes her feel? How do you think it makes me feel, knowing my grandbabies are caught in the middle because their parents are too stubborn to figure this out?”

Jack rubbed the back of his neck, guilt hitting him full force. “Ma, I didn’t mean for it to get this bad. I just… I had a bad day, and I didn’t handle it right. She tried to talk to me, and I didn’t… I didn’t give her what she needed.”

“Well, no kidding!” she huffed. “You think this is some kind of game? Relationships take work, Jack. You need to fix this before it gets worse. And don’t just show up empty-handed either—bring some damn flowers, apologize, and for heaven’s sake, listen to her.”

“I will,” he muttered, feeling about two inches tall.

“You better,” she warned. “Because if you let that girl slip through your fingers, you’ll have me to answer to.”

“I hear you, Ma. I’ll fix it,” he promised.

“And don’t wait too long, you hear me?” she added, her tone softening slightly. “She loves you, Jack. Don’t forget that.”

“I won’t,” he said quietly.

As the call ended, he stared at his phone for a moment, already planning how to make things right. His mom was right—he’d been stubborn, but it was time to own up to his mistakes.

****

Maryse was sitting in the rocking chair in the kids nursery that her parents put together when they decided to move to Kentucky to be closer to their grandkids, gently swaying back and forth with London in her arms. The baby was fussing, her little face scrunched up as she whimpered and refused to settle.

“Come on, London,” Maryse whispered, her voice soft but tired. “Mama’s got you. Just close those pretty eyes for me.”

London, however, had other plans. She let out another fussy cry, her tiny hands grabbing at Maryse’s shirt in protest.

Maryse sighed, resting her head against the back of the chair. “You’re really going to make this hard for me, huh? Is this because Daddy’s not here to do the bedtime dance?”

She tried humming a lullaby, but London wasn’t having it. Maryse adjusted her hold, gently bouncing her daughter in hopes of soothing her. “I know you love when Daddy sings to you, but Mama can sing too, you know,” she said, her tone teasing despite her exhaustion.

Her mom peeked her head into the room, holding a warm bottle. “Still not down?”

“Nope,” Maryse replied, her voice tinged with frustration. “She’s got her daddy wrapped around her little finger, and now she won’t nap without him.”

Her mom chuckled softly, walking in to place the bottle on the dresser. “That girl does love her daddy, but you’ve got that same magic touch, sweetheart. You just have to find it again.”

Maryse gave a weak smile. “Yeah, but he’s the one who does all the silly voices and bounces her in that special way that makes her laugh first, then fall asleep.”

“Maybe you can FaceTime him,” her mom suggested, giving her a knowing look.

Maryse sighed, staring down at London, who was still fighting sleep like it was her personal mission. “If I call him now, it’s going to feel like admitting defeat,” she joked, but her tone was weary.

Her mom touched her shoulder gently. “It’s not defeat, honey. It’s teamwork. And I’m sure he’d love to see her anyway.”

After a moment, Maryse relented. She pulled out her phone and hit the video call button. When Jack’s face popped up on the screen, looking a little disheveled but concerned, she felt a wave of relief.

“Hey,” he said, noticing her tired expression right away. “What’s going on?”

Maryse turned the camera to London, who perked up the moment she saw her dad on the screen, her little arms reaching toward the phone.

“Well, somebody won’t take a nap because you’re not here to do the magic,” Maryse said, her voice softening.

Jack chuckled, his voice warm. “Oh, is that right, London? You giving Mama a hard time?”

London babbled happily, her fussiness forgotten as she watched her dad’s face. Maryse rolled her eyes but couldn’t help smiling.

“Okay, okay,” Jack said. “Put the phone near her ear. Let me do my thing.”

As Maryse held the phone near London’s ear, Jack’s soft singing worked its magic. London’s little body finally relaxed, her eyes fluttering shut.

“Unbelievable,” Maryse muttered, more to herself than to him, as she gently laid London down in the crib.

Jack smiled at the screen. “Told you I had the magic touch,” he said playfully.

Maryse just shrugged, keeping her face neutral. “Guess so,” she replied, her tone flat. She didn’t even glance at the screen as she adjusted the baby blanket.

Jack frowned slightly, sensing her mood but deciding not to push. “You, uh… you coming home tonight?” he asked cautiously.

Maryse didn’t look up from where she was now tidying the nursery, giving a small shake of her head.

“No,” she said simply, her voice devoid of any emotion.

Jack rubbed the back of his neck, his voice softening. “Alright. Well, I love you.”

She paused for a split second, her hand hovering over London’s crib, then straightened up. “I know,” she said coolly, not meeting his eyes through the screen.

Before he could respond, she ended the call, setting the phone down on the dresser without another word.

Jack stared at the now-black screen in disbelief, letting out a long, frustrated sigh. For the first time, the weight of the distance between them felt heavier than ever.

Her mom had been standing just outside the nursery door, rocking Noah gently in her arms. She heard every word of the conversation and watched as Maryse stared at the blank phone screen with a clenched jaw.

“Baby,” her mom said softly, stepping into the room, “you need to go home and talk to him.”

Maryse sighed, shaking her head as she grabbed London’s pacifier from the dresser. “Why, Mom? When I wanted to talk, he didn’t want to listen,” she said bitterly, her tone sharp.

Her mom didn’t let her finish. “Stop it right there,” she said firmly, giving her daughter a knowing look. “Your father and I raised you better than this, and you know it. You’re upset, and you have every right to be, but shutting down like this isn’t the answer. You two are in a partnership. That man loves you, and I know you love him. You don’t fix things by running away every time it gets hard.”

Maryse crossed her arms defensively but didn’t respond, her mom’s words hitting too close to home.

Her mom continued, her voice softening. “He’s not perfect, and neither are you. But he’s trying. Don’t let your pride ruin something good. Those babies deserve two parents who work through their problems, not run from them.”

Maryse swallowed hard, her eyes darting toward London’s crib. Her mom placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. “You’ve been through so much, and I know it’s not easy. But don’t shut him out just because he didn’t respond the way you wanted the first time. Go home. Sit down. Talk to him like the woman I raised you to be.”

Maryse blinked back tears, her mom’s words sinking in, but she still hesitated. “What if he doesn’t understand, Mom? What if he doesn’t get it?”

Her mom smiled softly. “Then you explain it to him until he does. Relationships aren’t about who’s right or wrong. It’s about making the choice to try every single day. You’re stronger than this, baby. Go home.”

“I’ll think about it.” Maryse said with a sigh before turning to leave the room and head towards the bathroom to shower for the night.

***

The next morning, Maryse’s mom was up earlier than usual, enjoying her coffee in the quiet of the kitchen, when the doorbell rang. She frowned, not expecting anyone, and pulled out her phone to check the ring camera.

There he was—Jack, standing on her porch in a hoodie, hands stuffed into his pockets, rocking nervously on his heels.

Her jaw dropped when she noticed the rest of the scene: the entire porch was covered in roses. Bouquets of every size, from deep crimson to soft pink, crowded every inch of space, leaving barely enough room for him to stand.

She sighed, setting her coffee down with a muttered, “Lord have mercy.”

Opening the door just enough to poke her head out, she raised an eyebrow. “Well, if it isn’t Mr. Big Gesture himself.”

Jack looked up, giving a sheepish smile. “Morning, Ms. Monet. I, uh… I came to apologize.”

Her gaze flicked to the mountain of flowers spilling onto her porch. “And…all this?”

He shrugged, rubbing the back of his neck. “I wanted to show her I’m serious. I messed up, and I need her to know I’m sorry.”

She looked him over for a moment before stepping out onto the porch, pulling the door shut behind her. “You can wait right here,” she said firmly.

“Outside?”

She folded her arms. “Yes, outside. If she wants to talk to you, she’ll come out. But I’m not letting you barge in here and force her into anything.”

Jack nodded, swallowing hard. “That’s fair.”

She softened just a bit, adding, “And for the record? Big gestures are cute, but they don’t fix everything, son. You’ve got to do better than flowers.”

“I know,” he said quickly. “I’m ready to.”

“Good,” she said, turning back toward the door. “Now sit tight. I’ll go let her know you’re here.”

He watched her go, left standing on the porch surrounded by roses, the morning air cool against his skin as he rehearsed everything he wanted to say.

Her mom walked into the nursery where Maryse was playing on the floor with Noah. Arms crossed. “He’s outside. And he’s not leaving.”

Maryse frowned, glancing up from where she sat with Noah in her lap. “What do you mean, he’s outside?”

Her mom sighed and gestured toward the front door. “Check the camera.”

Reluctantly, Maryse picked up her phone and opened the app, her heart sinking as she saw Jack standing there. He looked nervous, hands shoved into his jacket pockets, shifting his weight from foot to foot. She hated how good he looked, even when he was clearly stressed out.

She chewed on her bottom lip for a moment before deciding to press the intercom button on the camera. “What do you want?” her voice came through the speaker, flat and guarded.

Jack immediately perked up, looking straight at the camera. “Baby, can we talk? Please?”

Maryse tilted her head, her tone remaining cool. “Didn’t you say I was acting childish? Maybe I’m still too busy being childish to talk.”

He exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down his face. “Okay, I deserve that. But I’m not here to argue. I’m here to apologize. Can we please talk? Face to face?”

She crossed her arms and leaned back on the couch, debating her next move. “You seem fine talking to me through the camera.”

Jack chuckled softly, though it was tinged with frustration. “You’re really gonna make me work for this, huh?”

Maryse smirked faintly but kept her voice steady. “You tell me, Mr. Mind Reader.”

Jack sighed again, looking directly into the camera. “You’re right, I messed up. But I miss you and the kids so much it hurts. Please, just give me a chance to fix this.”

Her mom, watching from the doorway, gave her an expectant look. Maryse hesitated, then sighed, standing up. “Stay there,” she said into the camera.

As she walked toward the door, her heart pounded in her chest. She wasn’t ready to let him off the hook completely, but seeing him out there, looking like a lovesick puppy, was softening her resolve.

Maryse unlocked the door and pulled it open, expecting to see just Jack standing there. Her breath hitched when she saw what was behind him.

The entire front porch was filled with roses—dozens upon dozens of bouquets in every shade of red, pink, and white. They spilled down the steps, clustered around the railing, and even lined the walkway.

“Are you serious?” she asked, blinking in disbelief.

Jack gave her a sheepish smile, hands still shoved in his pockets. “I figured one bouquet wasn’t gonna cut it.”

She looked from him to the sea of roses, her lips parting in surprise. “This is… a lot,” she admitted, though she couldn’t hide the hint of a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

He took a cautious step forward, his voice soft. “I meant it when I said I’d do whatever it takes to make this right. I just… I love you, and I hate that I made you feel like I didn’t care.”

Maryse’s fingers tightened around the edge of the door as she fought the lump rising in her throat. She wanted to stay mad, but seeing him standing there, nervous and vulnerable, surrounded by roses, made it nearly impossible.

Maryse sat down on the porch reluctantly, trying her hardest to look unimpressed as the sea of roses surrounded her. She crossed her arms and gave him a pointed look. “You know, this doesn’t change anything. You’re still not forgiven.”

Jack, standing in front of her with his hands in his pockets, smirked just slightly. “But… these are your favorite flowers,” he teased, his voice soft but cocky, like he already knew the answer.

She rolled her eyes dramatically, though the corner of her mouth twitched as if fighting a smile. “So? That doesn’t mean you’re off the hook.”

He nodded, taking a small step closer and dropping the smirk. “I know,” he said quietly. “I’m not here just to sweet-talk my way out of this.” He crouched down in front of her, resting his forearms on his knees so they were face-to-face. “I’m here because I messed up, and I need to own that.”

Maryse glanced away, her walls still up. “You’re right. You did.”

“I didn’t mean to make you feel like your feelings didn’t matter,” he continued, his voice earnest now. “I hate that I made you feel like you couldn’t talk to me, especially when I wanted you to. I just… I don’t know. Sometimes I look at you, and I see how you just do it. You’re this incredible mom. The twins love you. They’re obsessed with you. And sometimes, I feel like you’ve got it all figured out, and I’m just trying to keep up.”

Her eyes flicked back to him, her expression softening slightly.

“And instead of saying that… instead of listening to you, I pushed you away like an idiot,” he added, his voice quieter now. “But you were right. You tried to talk to me, and I didn’t listen. And I’m sorry, babe. You’re the best mom those babies could ever have, and you don’t have to carry all of this alone. I want to be better at showing you that.”

Maryse sighed softly, looking at him for a moment as he sat there waiting, his eyes full of guilt but also hope. “You really feel like you’re just ‘keeping up’?” she asked, her tone gentler now.

Jack nodded, brushing a hand through his hair. “Yeah. All the time.”

Her lips finally quirked into the faintest smile. “Well, you’re doing better than you think, even when you’re being an idiot.”

He smirked, relief washing over his face as he straightened up. “So, you’re saying there’s hope for me?”

Maryse exhaled, giving him a small eye roll but with a smile this time. “Maybe.”

Jack grinned, pulling her up from the seat on the porch, keeping his hands lightly on her waist. “I’ll take ‘maybe.’ It’s better than ‘get off my porch.’”

She let him pull her close, though she kept her voice stubborn. “Still not forgiven.”

“Okay,” he said softly, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “I’ll keep working on it. Just don’t make me bring more flowers. I don’t think there’s any left in Kentucky.”

Maryse couldn’t help but laugh, punching him lightly in the arm. “You’re so dramatic.”

“Ow!” he yelped, clutching his arm and pretending it actually hurt.

“Stop being such a baby,” she said, rolling her eyes, though her smile betrayed her.

He dropped the act and looked at her seriously, his voice soft. “But for real… are you coming home now? I really miss you. I miss the kids, too.”

Her teasing expression faltered, replaced by something softer. “You miss me?”

“Like crazy,” he admitted. “The house doesn’t feel right without you.”

She looked down at her hands, fidgeting with the hem of her shirt. “I miss you too,” she finally whispered.

“So… what do you say? Come home?” he asked, reaching out to gently take her hand in his.

She sighed, trying to act like she wasn’t already planning to say yes. “I guess so.”

Jack grinned, leaning in to kiss her temple. “Good. Because I don’t think I could’ve handled another night without you.”

Maryse gave him a small smile and squeezed his hand. “Let’s go home.”

***

AN: tell me your thotssss

Tag List

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#jack harlow #jack harlow x reader #jack harlow x y/n #jack harlow reader #jack harlow x oc #flashing lights #jack harlow x you #jack harlow fanfic #jack harlow fluff #jack harlow angst

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thezombieprostitute · 6 months ago

Text

Tech Tuesday: Lloyd Hansen

Summary: It's your first week on the job and you find yourself having to deal with a very angry higher up.

Word Count: ~1.8k

Warnings: Mentions of abuse, Mentions of dub/non con, Power imbalance, SMUT!! Lots of smut. Please let me know if I missed any.

Tech Tuesdays Masterlist

As you enter your cubicle the morning of the office party there's a package on your desk. It has a note that simply says, "For my good girl." You giggle a bit out of nerves Lloyd is coming on stronger than you like. He definitely has the potential to be a good Sir, and part of you is quite flattered that he's already taking such ownership of you, but you've yet to actually agree to anything.

That was a lesson learned the hard way: talk about your limits before getting into bed. Your last Dom wasn't interested in discussion and you thought that was just his way, that he would at least listen to your color codes and safe-word. If it weren't for the club's owners you don't doubt you would have ended up in the hospital. Still, you've yet to go back for fear of trusting another Sir. At the very least, though, you can tell Lloyd that you need to talk before you accept his gifts, his ownership.

You decide to use the gift as an excuse to visit him in his office, later in the day. Leaving your desk for your break time, you walk to Lloyd's office and knock on the door.

"Enter," he barks. His angry look melts away a little when he sees you. "Maestro! To what do I owe the pleasure?"

You close the door behind you before taking a seat across from him and setting his gift on the desk. He frowns. "I just...I need to make sure...I'm sure you're a good Dom, a good Sir, but I need..."

His eyes soften, "limits and boundaries. Even before you get a taste of the goods?"

You nod, "last time I did that I got hurt." Lloyd's jaw tightens at that. "So I promised myself I would never do that again. I need to talk about limits and I need to know you'll respect them. Given that you haven't been putting my job at risk since I talked to you, I think I can trust you on that front. But I'm not accepting a gift from you until we talk."

"Absolutely," Lloyd agrees, his attitude is all business. He pulls out some paper and a couple of pens. "Let's go ahead and write down things as we talk, okay?"

"Thank you, Sir."

You return to your desk feeling much lighter, maybe even giddy. It's been so long since you've had your needs met. And you're sure Lloyd's going to satisfy. He was asking all the right questions, giving all the right reassurances. He treated your needs and concerns with all the seriousness you weren't sure he was capable of.

Letting yourself get back into the swing of things at work, you almost forget about the gift Lloyd got you: an angel costume. Nothing fancy, but definitely cute with just the right amount of naughtiness. You're to put it on before visiting him in his office after the party starts.

A few minutes after the party starts, you sneak your way to the floor of Lloyd's office. Finding a bathroom nearby, you use that to switch into the angel costume. You feel so giddy and hopeful as you look at yourself in the mirror. You don't know how he guessed your size so accurately, but the skimpy costume fits quite well.

Peeking out the door to make sure there's no one who will see you, you quickly skitter to Lloyd's office and knock on the door.

"Enter," he barks. You do so, making sure to close and lock the door behind you. You turn towards him and await his command. Because you're keeping your head down, you don't see Lloyd licking his lips at how good you look. "Come here," he orders and you're quickly at his side, kneeling in obedience to his hand gesture. He cups your face with his large hand, making you look up at him. "Put your work clothes under your knees," he purrs. "I don't want you to hurt yourself on this god awful floor."

"Thank you, Sir," you chirp as you obey.

When you're settled at his feet, Lloyd starts caressing your cheek and you lean into his touch. "You're absolutely gorgeous," he comments. "I can't wait to ruin you in all the best ways." He smiles at your whimper. "I wonder how responsive you'll be when I'm teasing that pussy of yours with my fingers. I'll bet you've never been fucked by such a large hand, have you?"

"No, Sir," you breathe, desire quickly building in your core.

"I wonder how many of these fingers that hole of yours can take," he ponders. "Maybe a good girl like you just needs one or two." He grips your chin, "or are you a little slut who can take my whole hand?" You let out a bit of a strangled mewl as your pussy clenches around nothing, imagining those hands on you. He moves his thumb to your lips and you automatically open your mouth, making him chuckle. "Not yet, Maestro. First, let's give your hands a test run. Unbutton me."

Wasting no time your hands work to undo Lloyd's belt so you could get to the button of his pants. The outline of his erection has you biting your lower lip. You want to unzip him, to gag on his cock, but you were only ordered to unbutton him so that's all you do.

Lloyd caresses your cheek again, "do you see something you like, Maestro?"

"Yes, Sir," you whine.

"Tell me what you're thinking," he orders.

"I want to choke on your cock, Sir," you confess, a little bashful.

Lloyd moans and you see a twitch beneath his pants. "Take my dick out and give it a kiss." You're quick to obey, your breath hitching at the size of him, before kissing the tip. "Good girl," he coos. "Now choke yourself on my cock. And yes, you can use your tits as well."

Lowering the shirt of the angel costume, you let your breasts out and use them to sandwich his cock while you set to work on the tip of his dick. You build up speed as you take more and more of him in your mouth, rewarded by his moans as he pats your head. You feel your saliva dripping onto your breasts and use it to massage his length even more. You're occasionally choking on him as you repeatedly take him to the back of your throat.

"Look at me," Lloyd growls, and your eyes immediately turn to him. "Fuck, that's it, that's a good girl," he praises. "Haven't had a proper suck in so long. Wonder if I should cum down that slutty throat of yours or all across those gorgeous tits. Maybe even all over that pretty face." You whimper, trying not to get distracted by your needy pussy. "You like that? You want me to cum all over your face? Mark you with my cum?" Lloyd smiles at your needy whine.

He grabs your hair, stilling you, "hands on my legs, Maestro. Remember, three taps to get me to stop." You give a little nod and place your hands accordingly before he starts roughly pushing you down on his dick. You're repeatedly gagging, gasping for air as you struggle to breath through your nose, but your pussy is dripping wet from the rough treatment and the noises of pleasure coming from Lloyd. "Shit, your mouth feels so good," he moans. "Taking me like the good slut you are. Fuck! I'm gonna cum all over your body. Gonna claim every singe inch of your body as mine."

Without warning he almost throws you back and you gasp for air. "Press those tits together and keep that gorgeous mouth open," he orders. You do so and your vision clears enough that you see Lloyd jerking himself off, making you open your mouth wider. "Fuck, Maestro. Such a good girl for me, making me cum so fast and so. Fucking. Hard." His cum splatters all over your chest, some of it getting onto your face.

He catches his breath but you don't move, just staying in the position you were ordered to, despite how needy your pussy was feeling.

He pets the top of your head again, "you were such a good girl for me. Did really good for our first time together. I think you deserve a reward." You whimper at that and he chuckles. "Stand up," he orders, and you do so. He grabs your clothes and lays them down on his desk, "lay down on your back."

It takes you a little help from him because of how big his desk is, but soon you're laying on your clothes, legs spread, silently begging Lloyd to fill your pussy. He places his palm over your mound and uses one of his fingers to play with your hole making you quietly whine.

"You're a good slut for me," he teases. "So damn wet I could probably slide my cock right in." He quickly pushes one of his fingers into you, up to the knuckle and arch your back, desperate for more. Lloyd leans over you, putting his arms on each side of you, "we don't want to get caught, so I'm going to need you to keep quiet. Understand?"

"Yes, Sir," you nod fervently.

"If you want something to bite down on, let me know."

"Thank you, Sir."

Lloyd moves one of his arms down your front and resumes teasing you as he kisses down to your breasts, licking some of his own cum off of you. He uses his tongue on one of your nipples, alternating between licking and sucking. His hand roughly shoves two fingers inside your cunt and you arch back, eyes rolling in pleasure as scissors them in and out of you at a harsh pace.

"Sir, Sir, please, Sir, thank you, Sir, please, Sir, Sir---" you clamp your hand over your mouth to keep yourself quiet as you cum, clenching around Lloyd's large fingers. He continues finger fucking you until you've come down a little.

"Good girl," he purrs. "Keeping quiet like I told you to. Did you enjoy my fingers?"

"Yes, Sir," your voice is raspy.

"You look so pretty when you cum," he grins. He lowers himself so his face is between your legs. "Let's see how many more I can get out of you."

Tech Tuesdays Masterlist

Tagging: @alicedopey; @delicatebarness; @ellethespaceunicorn; @icefrozendeadlyqueen; @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory;

@late-to-the-party-81; @lokislady82; @ozwriterchick; @ronearoundblindly; @lokislady82

#tech tuesday #tech tuesday: lloyd hansen #lloyd hansen x female!reader #lloyd hansen x reader

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