#i’m not gonna make his blog for a few days but i will throw him at u in ims or discord so

[tweedlydumbtweedlydoo]

oh, baby | Tyler Owens x reader

Requested by anon / Summary: You’re pregnant with Tyler Owens baby. Lots of fluff. 

A/N: My first Tyler Owens fic. I hope you all enjoy. Also, the lack of Tyler Owens gifs is very upsetting. 

Go follow my fic rec blog! ---> @imaginationgonewild0912

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This one moment was about to change your entire life. You were terrified. Would you be a good mom? Would you be able to make a good enough life for the little growing blimp inside you? Your thoughts were running a million times a minute. Wondering how this would affect the rest of your lives. How this one moment just changed the rest of your life. 

You slowly sat on the edge of the tub, in shock, the positive pregnancy test in your hand. Your mind drifted to Tyler. Oh god. His tornado wrangler YouTube channel had began to soar in popularity. He and the team making a name for themselves. He had millions of views and a huge fan club. What would this do to his career? 

“Hey hun-” Tyler knocks on the door, jolting you from your thoughts. His hand jiggles the door finding it locked. He furrows his eyebrows, you never locked the door. “you alright?” 

“Y-yeah!” You rummaged underneath the sink, hiding the test under some towels. “One sec.” 

You knew Tyler was getting ready to leave, a few storms brewing before this upcoming weekend. You exit the bathroom and met with Tyler’s hard chest, “You leaving?” 

He peeks behind you, concerned and curious, “Yeah, why’d you have the door locked? You never lock the door.” 

You shrug, playing it off. You could wait to tell him when he got back, “sometimes a girl needs her privacy.” 

He hums in response, not completely believing you. However, he didn’t want to press you. If there was something bothering you, you’d eventually tell him when you were ready. He could respect that. He slips his arms around you, tugging you close against his chest. He was a mix of sweat and that musky sandalwood. It was calming and heavenly. “I’ll be back in a couple days. You gonna be able to hold down the fort?” 

You nod against his chest, tightening your arms around him, “I can.” You lift your head to stare up at him, “You better come back in one piece.” 

He chuckles with a nod, “Yes ma’am.” He presses a soft kiss to your forehead and then your lips. “I will call you when we get to the hotel.” 

You walk him out to bid him and the team goodbye. Shielding your eyes from the sun, you watch him drive down the driveway. He hangs his hand out the window, waving goodbye. You return the wave, saying a silent prayer for a safe return of him and the team as your hands find your new growing womb. “He’ll be back.” 

~

You’d spent the entire weekend trying to figure out how to tell him. You’d called one of your girlfriends in tears, wondering how to tell him. Worried you would be ruining his life. She reassured you, “Tyler isn’t that kind of guy, y/n. You know that. He’s going to support you and be excited for this next step.” 

You heard the slam of the screen door, “Tyler must be home.” 

“Call me later.” 

You throw the blanket off you, meeting him in the foyer as he’s taking off the boots. “You’re home early?” 

He smiles at the sight of you, but frowns when he notices you’ve been crying, “Had a feeling I needed to come home to my girl.” He crosses the foyer to you in only a few steps before gathering you in his arms. 

At the first feel of comfort, the flood gates open, sobbing into his chest. damn hormones. 

“Oh baby..” He squeezes you tighter, cradling your head against his chest, “Talk to me.” 

You take a few seconds to console yourself. His large thumb wipes your tears away, waiting patiently for you. 

You gather yourself, taking a deep breath before you meet his eyes, “I’m pregnant.” 

His large hands cup your cheeks, his eyes light up, full of hope, “Yeah? You’re pregnant?” 

You nod and hiccup a sob, beginning to rant, “I’m so sorry-you’ve just started your YouTube channel and you guys are so successful now-” 

“No no no- Shhh.” He pulls you in a comforting hug, “This is incredible. I couldn’t be any happier.” 

He holds you against his chest, slowly rocking back and forth as you calm down, “I knew something was bothering you. I just had a feeling.” He kisses your hair, and then makes you look at him, “We’re gonna be parents.” He's hesitant, but places a hand on your stomach, “you’re gonna be an amazing mom..” 

~ 

You waddled into the room to find Tyler painting the wall of the nursery. His hat on backwards, jeans and shirt stained with paint. 

“How’s it going in here?” You take a seat in the wooden rocking chair, sighing in relief. Those stairs were beginning to take a toll on you. Your growing baby leaving barely any room for your lungs to breathe. 

“Almost done.” He sets the paint brush down, hands on his hips he admires his work around the room. “all I got left is this wall.” 

You rub a hand over your bump, wincing as you adjust yourself in the chair. 

Tyler noticing your discomfort, immediately is at your side, full of worry, “It’s not time yet-” 

“No no,” You laugh, “Just some discomfort. I’m fine.” 

He visibly relaxes, “He can’t come early. There’s way too much to do around here.” 

You roll your eyes, “It also could be a she.” You and him agreed to wait until the birth to find out the sex. He was convinced it’s a boy. 

“Daddy instincts.” He gets on his knees in front of you, hands on your stomach, “It’s a boy. I know it.” He flashes his pearly white smile at you. “a baby boy tornado wrangler.” 

“I think it’s gonna be a girl.” You shrug, “mommy instincts.” 

“We’re gonna prove your mommy wrong,” He says to your belly, “Right off the bat, you and I. I’ll finally be right on something.” 

Of course, the baby kicks at the sound of Tyler’s voice. Tyler grins, “See, he agrees.” 

~ 

“You’re screwed.” You whisper softly to Tyler. After hours of labor, you and Tyler finally welcomed your baby into the world. He’s seated in the rocking chair next to your bed, his bundle of joy wrapped softly in a blanket. --- a pink blanket. 

“There’s two of us now. You’ll never stand a chance.” You reach over and caress his arm. 

He looks at you with tear-filled eyes, “She’s only a couple hours old and she’s already got me wrapped around her finger. She could ask me for anything and I’m going to give it to her.”

“Like I said,” you say with a smile, “you’re screwed.” 

~

Comments, likes and reblogs are always welcomed and greatly appreciated. :)

[superblysubpar]

The Boy Is Mine (Taylor's Version Edition):

eddie munson x fem reader

summary: a romantic night in at your trailer full of fluff, a dash of spice, and an..."Alien invasion"? | main menu | this is fairly SFW, but my blog is 18+

the song: The Boy Is Mine by Brandy & Monica

1675 words

This is my submission for @carolmunson The Boy Is Mine Challenge! The scene, props to include, and dialogue to use as well as all the details on how to participate can be found here - come join in and write your version of Eddie and celebrate everyone else's. 💛

“Son of a-” Your shoulders tense beneath palms that soothe. The chuckle beneath your ear rumbles deep in the chest your cheek is pressed to when you whine, “Gets me every fucking time.”

Despite the eerie music and the jump scare on the glowing screen, you dare someone to tell you this isn’t the most perfect night, the most perfect life. 

A pizza box with a few slices left sits on your new - well new to you - coffee table next to shitty horror and gore VHS tap - wait, doll, how’d Pretty in Pink get in the stack? There’s a candle burning, its warm orange glow competes for a chance to light up the space with the small flickering TV. 

Activities from earlier in the day litter the room that’s meant for living, but barely able to be made out in the growing darkness. His acoustic guitar next to loose pages of doodles and lyrics, dragons and elves and stories and songs about fighting and finding love erratic and unorganized next to your small notebook, a stack of books and several applications. 

There isn’t much else, not yet anyways. A collection of records and a stereo, cassettes un-alphabetized strewn about the wobbly bookshelf and milk crates. A few boxes with labels for unimportant things that haven’t found their new home yet. The rain that falls outside the open window above the couch and onto the roof of the metal trailer pings and echoes in the sparse room, making you snuggle deeper into the black cotton beneath you, squishing your cheek to a firm, but comfortable chest. 

The most perfect night, the most perfect life.

The most perfect guy. 

“Do you think,” he starts softly, his fingers running down your spine and back up before he asks, “I’m as much of a badass as Ellen Ripley?”

“No.” 

The noise of protest he makes beneath you at your immediate and confident response has your lips twisting, fighting a smile as his legs close around you tighter. Bunched tube socks brush your calves, thighs and hips covered in soft gray sweats shift beneath you as he grumbles something about showing you just how wrong you are. 

One arm stays relaxed behind his head against throw pillows propping him up, the other restless but content to fiddle with and roam over your body that’s draped across him. 

The rhythm of his heartbeat beneath you and the scent of old spice around you, everything Eddie, has you humming at his “threat”, eyelashes fluttering from the peace. His fingers massage over the back of your neck, lighting up the skin beneath it and you huff out of your nose, upset about the bubble that’s about to break. Your whine lost in his worn band t-shirt. 

“I have to pee.”

“So go pee.”

Your head shakes, chin resting on his chest so you can look up at him with narrowed eyes. 

“If I get up and go pee, you’re gonna do something stupid when I come back out.”

Eddie looks down at you, innocent doe eyes blinking as his hands rub over your shoulders. 

“I’m always gonna do something stupid, so enlighten me, what is it you think I’m gonna do this time?”

Your hand reaches up and pulls at a dark brown curl that frames the cheeks his dimples are trying not to show in. 

“Oh, I don’t know, turn off all of the lights, jump out from around the corner, attack me from behind…”

“Baby, I always wanna attack you from behind.”

That earns him a fake stern look and a smack to his chest with the back of your hand. 

Pink lips pout and twist in the fight of a mischievous smirk, his eyebrows bunch together and wrinkle his forehead as he tries to scoff around a laugh.

“Aw, don’t be like that. I would never scare you.”

“That’s not even remotely true,” you counter. 

“Sweetheart,” he catches your chin with thick fingers, cradling your jaw as he vows, dramatically, “I promise I would never, ever let the aliens get-”

You catch his other wrist before fingers could find their target just below your ribs. Raised eyebrows to his big, brown eyes that glint with trouble, not even pretending to be ashamed he was caught. 

The eye contact you’re sharing pulses, accompanied by the musical score of the thriller on screen. His thumb swipes over your bottom lip as his tongue licks over his own. The seconds of time slowly ticking by aren’t a luxury, but big, pounding, booms of your imminent fate right on your tail. 

“Eddie,” you warn, lips fighting a smile. “Don-”

He screeches like the aliens, fingers digging into your sides and legs, grabbing at your thighs and pulling you closer so his mouth can pretend to bite at you as you give a shriek worthy of a Ridley Scott flick. 

You can’t help but laugh though, as explosions happen on screen and Eddie gets louder, yelling your name dramatically like he’s fighting off the aliens, trying to save you despite it being his own fingers that have you wheezing and gasping for air. 

“Eddie! If you don’t stop, we’re gonna have a real problem!”

“Oh honey, I know! This thing means business! But don’t worry! I’ll save you, Ellen Ripley’s got nothing on me!”

He doubles down his tickling efforts, screeching and grunting out a “Not my girlfriend you monster!” dramatically into your neck before he nips at it. Quick bites and kisses mingled with alien noises until you’re swatting at his chest and wiggling off of him, shouting about how he’s the monster on your way to the bathroom. 

It’s suspiciously quiet while you're gone. And when you open the bathroom door, you take a timid step out into the dark hallway and call out, “Eddie?”

“Baby,” he laughs from the living room, “I swear on Jonesy that I’m sitting on the couch, and I’ll keep my hands to myself for the rest of the movie.”

And well, swearing on Jonesy’s life is like swearing on Henderson’s mom, so you’re satisfied and confident enough to travel through the dark to return to the menace you call your boyfriend. 

He sits, cross legged on the couch now, smiling. You kind of can’t believe this boy exists, that he’s yours. 

Eddie gestures to the bottle of wine that’s replaced the pizza box, the large Garfield and Snoopy mugs joined by a bag of pretzels and a tub of vanilla frosting. “We don’t really have like, nice cups, this okay?”

Is it okay? Is this guy real? He’s straight out of a TV show, a favorite movie, the thing all the songs are trying to tell you about but just don’t seem possible. 

He blinks at you, cheeks growing pink as you continue to stand at the edge of the living room and stare at him. His smile relaxes down to a shy, tight lipped thing as the silver metal on fingers that tap on his knees glints in the TV’s glow. 

“Doll?” Eddie coughs, eyebrows raised at you when you still don’t say anything. 

“Sorry,” you make your way to the couch finally, “Yeah. Really okay.”

“Cool,” he says quietly as you sit, ears peeking out through thick waves turning as pink as his cheeks. 

He grabs the pretzels and you grab the frosting, popping open the lid with a grunt, and managing to get a decent amount of it in the curve of your thumb and forefinger. 

Before you can scoop it up with a pretzel, Eddie’s fingers are tugging on yours, bringing your hand up to his mouth. His lips mold around the space, sucking before his tongue traces it and the room turns unberably hot despite the cool breeze and rain drifting in. 

Eddie clocks the way your hips shift and thighs press together, the way your mouth parts and head tilts. The way your eyes turn a little glassy when he looks up at you. 

He removes his mouth from your hand slowly, grinning and absolutely pleased with himself as he murmurs, “Oh, we like that, huh?”

Words escape your clutches just as Ripley does the Alien’s, and Eddie drops the bag of pretzels back onto the coffee table. He keeps eye contact as he grabs the tub of frosting from you, and dips his finger into it, slowly. 

“Eddie, I-”

He’s smearing it on your collarbone and up your neck, your jaw and cheek as your fingers grip the couch cushion. Your chest heaves with quick breaths, a gasp slipping past your lips as he leans forward, tongue sweeping over your throat. 

Eddie licks over your skin, slow, patiently, weight falling over you as you fall backwards on the couch and arch underneath him. The way his mouth travels over you is nothing like the quick nips and fast kisses from earlier. It’s slow licks, soft presses of his mouth, open and wet and breathy and dirty as he travels higher and higher. 

His path leads him over your jaw and cheek now, both of you gasping for air as his fingers dig into your hips that roll against him and yours curl in the soft material on his shoulders. 

He pulls away when he reaches the corner of your lips, smiling at the whine that leaves them when you don’t get the kiss you’re aching for. 

“Guess you were right afterall,” he whispers, the tip of his nose tracing up yours as he does. 

“Wh-what?”

Eddie grins, his mouth hovers over yours, sweet and sticky vanilla flavored lips just close enough to almost taste. 

“That I was gonna do something stupid.”

“The only thing that’s stupid is that you haven’t kissed me yet, Munson.” Your eyes roll as his grin grows even wider. 

“Oh, sweetheart,” he laughs, reaching for the frosting again. “I’m just getting started.”

Rain falls, and Aliens are killed and the candle flickers on a perfect night. Your new favorite flavor of anything is vanilla because of the perfect guy. 

Eddie Munson gets you every fucking time. 

[honey-on-your-tongue]

Too Sweet

Javier Peña x fem!reader

Part one

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You’d come down to Colombia with one thing in mind: prove you’re more.

You’d studied journalism, been the top of your class. You were made for this, born for it. Everything you did came naturally. College had seemed almost too easy to be true. And to top it all off, you loved it. You loved the investigation, the adrenaline, the fact that you could show people the truth…

You were headed down the road of your dreams.

Joining the DEA hadn’t really been your idea. Your grandpa, the DEA agent back in his time, had insisted. He’d promised he could get you good connections, told you that you’d love it.

You knew you would. The idea of working in a big, complicated, dangerous case like that…How could you let the opportunity slip? So you agreed.

With your grandfather’s help, you were officially part of an investigative team for the DEA. Nothing big at first, just small busts on local operations in Texas.

And then, word reached your grandfather that more hands were needed in Colombia. He recommended you. You were called down a few weeks later.

You had big hopes for yourself, knew that you could do this. You were determined to take down the cartels, to uncover anything and everything necessary to win the drug war. You were hungry for information and hungry for the chase.

But then, a week before leaving for Colombia, your superior had called you into his office.

You sat at his desk, wondering what this was about.

Carl was somewhere in his late fifties, a man hardened by his time in the DEA. He’d worked under your grandfather for years. You'd always thought he was a good man.

Until that day.

“Listen,” he told you, sighing softly. “The higher-ups are sending you to Colombia mostly because your grandpa requested it. But you’re a kid. You’re too young to go down there and keep up with the kind of work that’s going on with the Medellín cartel.”

You’d frowned, taken aback, but quickly recovered. “I’m not a kid, Carl. I can handle myself. I know what I’m getting into.”

He pursed his lips, pausing a moment before saying, “I’m gonna be honest with you, kid, because your grandfather and I go back. How can someone like you expect to go down there and make a change?”

“Someone like me?” you echoed.

“Graduated little over a year ago, been in the DEA less than twelve months…” He paused, as if debating it. And then he added, “And you’re a woman.”

You froze then. That was supposed to be a problem?

“So?” you’d demanded, crossing your arms.

“So a woman��a pretty girl like you should be settling down, finding a man to love her, taking care of a family. What are you doing, going to the middle of a battlefield?”

You wanted to throw up. Wanted to punch him, scream, throw things. How dare he?

But you simply took a deep breath. “I can handle myself,” you repeated and stood up to leave.

“They’ll chew you up and spit you back out, kid,” Carl warned. You knew he was saying that because of what had happened to him in Mexico with your grandfather. A raid gone wrong, three DEA agents dead, Carl was hospitalized for months. He never returned to the field and instead retreated to managing operations from behind the desk.

You gave him a long, cold glare. “And I’ll go back. Not all of us run away with our tails tucked between our legs at the slightest sign of danger, Carl.” You turned and headed for the door. “I’ll tell my grandpa you said hi.”

You think about the conversation the entire flight to Colombia.

What are you doing, going to the middle of a battlefield?

He's a fucking idiot, you think to yourself. Why else would anyone go to the battlefield? To fight, to defend…How could you just not do anything about it? If you stood by and watched everything go down, knowing that you have the ability to help even in the smallest things, you’d be just as bad as the narcos. Standing by and doing nothing is aiding and abetting the cartels.

You can do this. You know you can do this. And yet, Carl’s words cut deep. You know he’s not the only one who thinks that. Working in the middle of a field mostly ruled by men means having to deal with the fact that they all look at you like some toy thing, like just another housewife in the making.

You won’t—won’t, won’t, won’t—let that get to you. You know your potential. Even if no one else can see it, you know it’s there, you know how far you can go. And you’re going to make all of them see it too.

The first day in Colombia is a blur. You go through the airport, find a taxi to take you to the apartment the embassy has assigned for you. You settle in. It’s a simple place, simple furniture, not decorated. Just a twin-size bed, a few rickety chairs and a table for a dining room, thin curtains.

You sigh. It’s the first time you’ve lived alone. Sure, you had a dorm in college. But this is…different. It’s your apartment. All of this is your responsibility. It’s a feeling of freedom and fear all in one. Just the kind of adrenaline you need to get your mind off that horrid conversation with Carl.

You settle in. Meaning that you take your suitcases into your room and sit on the bed, the springs squeaking beneath your weight.

You start work tomorrow and you have nothing to eat, nothing to clean the house with, nothing to cook with—just nothing.

Since you’re not sure how long you’re gonna be in Colombia, you might as well make this place a home.

You find a decent furniture store not far from the apartment complex that can deliver your things in a couple of days. You buy simple things—a dresser, sofas, a real dining table with chairs, and a bed where you can sleep more comfortably. It’s a big bill, but some of your expenses are refunded by the DEA, so you allow yourself a certain amount of luxury.

And what kind of home doesn’t have decorations?

You pick out plant pots, nicer curtains, a few lamps to lighten up the place. And dishware. Simple plates, silverware, glasses, mugs. A set of four since you don’t expect to have much company. The cookware goes at the end. A single set of pots of three different sizes, a kettle, and a medium frying pan. Add some spatulas and you’re done.

You’d left your new apartment around midday. You return at dusk, just as the sun has dipped over the horizon, leaving the sky a soft purple.

You were told you’d get a car. Apparently, not until next week, according to the woman who you’d called to ask about it.

You took a cab, brought the boxes out of the trunk and left them all in the entrance hall. Now, you find yourself hauling boxes of decorations up the stairs. Up and down, up and down. Your legs grow tired, your back aches from carrying all the heavy stuff up two floors.

You’re heading back down to retrieve a box of plates when one of the doors on the first floor opens.

A man in his mid-thirties steps out, wearing a mustard-yellow button-up tucked into his jeans. His brown hair is a little tousled, his dark eyes find yours before moving to the boxes at the bottom of the stairs. A small smile quirks his lips up under his mustache.

“¿Necesitas ayuda?” he asks.

You blink. You know a little bit of Spanish. More understand it than speak it, really. You immediately become flustered, a little afraid you won’t be able to communicate with this man when he’s so kindly asked if you need help.

“Oh, uh…Yo estoy—” you cut yourself off. Can he even understand you with your accent? “The boxes, um—está pesados y—”

“You’re American,” the man says, relieving you when you realize he speaks English too. He eyes you up and down. “I’m Javi,” he introduces, holding a hand out to you.

You shake his hand. His palm is warm, fingers calloused. You’re distracted by that as you give him your name almost mechanically, your mind on the feel of his hand against yours.

His eyes flash with recognition. “You’re the new girl.”

You blink. “I—What?”

He chuckles softly. “I’m a DEA agent,” he explains. “They told me you were coming down to help with the cartels.”

“Oh.” You nod softly. “Yeah, that’s…me I guess.”

He eyes you again. “You’re younger than I thought you’d be.”

You’re not sure if that’s a compliment or not. “I-I’m twenty-three,” you blurt, as if that were an acceptable answer.

Which is the acceptable answer? you wonder. If there even is one…

He chuckles softly, an easy smile on his lips. “That’s still pretty young,” he points out, tucking his hands in the front pockets of his jeans. “So. I’m guessing you just moved here?”

“Yeah. Just…settling in, actually,” you reply, nodding at the boxes on the floor.

“You moving all that on your own?” he asks, frowning slightly. “Here, let me help.” He reaches for a box before you can respond.

“That’s—You really don’t have to, I can do it myself,” you stutter, glad for the help but still trying to be polite.

“Come on, it’s no problem. I’m glad to help,” he insists, already starting to walk up the stairs with a box in his arms.

You follow after him, quick little steps trailing after his long strides. You lead him to your apartment, the door already open, and you gesture at the messy threshold, loaded with boxes. “You can just put it down anywhere,” you tell him, a little embarrassed about the mess.

He nods and sets the box down on the floor. He gives a quick, curious look around your apartment and whistles lowly. “Nice place. Your apartment’s got a better view,” he says, peeking into the living room.

“Not much of a view when that lamppost is out. It’s just…dark.”

“Yeah, but you’ll be able to see the sunrise,” he replies.

You turn to him, smiling softly with a little hmph. “I don’t stay up until the sunrise,” you tell him. “I can’t function properly if I don’t get enough sleep.” His eyes meet yours, dark, his gaze thick, and you feel nervous. Did you come off as weird? Are you making an absolute fool of yourself right now? Your nerves make your rambling worse. “I just—I just need at least eight hours, y’know? Otherwise I’m just stumbling through the day in a bad mood and that’s never good for anyone, especially if I don’t get my morning coffee. I’ll just be upset and bitchy all day and people get upset about it and then I get upset about that so it’s like a chain reaction and…” You trail off at the look in his eyes, a tiny smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

I sound like an idiot. He's gonna think I'm a fucking moron.

***

Fucked.

That’s all that Javier’s mind can come up with.

Fucked. I’m fucked.

He’s fucked. You adorable little thing, rambling on nonsensically, cheeks turning pink, eyes wide and nervous. His interest is piqued. You’re pretty, clearly smart, and you’ve gotta have guts to come down here at the ripe old age of twenty-three. You intrigue him, something about you has him thinking about blurring the boundary between co-workers and something more.

When he heard there was going to be a journalist headed down here to aid with the investigations, he’d expected some grumpy old man. Or a plain asshole who’d sit on his ass all day and do nothing. He had even thought that maybe they’d send down one of those pretty TV reporters just to get more people to watch their news.

Then he found out your name. He recognized your last name, he knows who your grandfather is. The Federico García, a good man and an even better DEA agent that controlled the Mexico cartels at the Texas border. But he never thought agent García would have a gorgeous, intelligent, gutsy granddaughter who’d end up working in Colombia.

And now that he’s seen you…

No, he thinks to himself. Come on, man. Look at her. She’s almost fifteen years younger. You can’t. Can’t. Can’t.

He shakes his head slightly to get rid of the thoughts.

He glances around again. Your apartment is bare with the evident lack of use. Javi wonders how many hours it’s been since you got off the plane.

You smile a little sheepishly. “I, uh, still got a few more boxes to get to if you, um, wanna help?”

He gives you his trademark sideways grin. “I’d be happy to,” he replies. As you two leave your apartment and start walking back down the stairs, he asks, “You nervous?”

You open your mouth to reply and pause. He glances at you, raising a curious eyebrow, and chuckles when you nod softly. “A little,” you admit. “Not so much about, like, the cartels and the narcos. Just…nervous about being in a new place where I don’t know anyone.”

“Ah.” He nods. “I get the feeling. But you’ll be fine.” He nudges your shoulder with his gently. “You got me now.”

Stop, stop, stop, his mind screams. Are you flirting with her? Why are you flirting with her?!

You give him a shy grin. “Yeah, I guess. So you’re, uh, a field agent?”

He nods proudly. “Yeah. Only way to catch these motherfuckers is to go after them ourselves.”

“Do you ever get afraid?” you ask. “When you’re walking in there with guns and bulletproof vests…Do you ever lose your nerve?”

He sighs softly. “I’m scared, sure. There’s always the risk of getting shot, killed…But if we don’t do this, who will? Someone has to stop these assholes.”

You nod. “Fair point,” you allow.

Thing is, Javier didn’t tell you the whole truth. Is he afraid? Fuck, yes, he’s afraid. He lives with the constant fear of getting caught in the crossfire. The narcos would never purposely kill a DEA thanks to Kiki, but a stray bullet…

He also doesn’t tell you about the interrogations, the tortures, the illegal shit he does with Carrillo and the Colombian army. The nightmares he has sometimes. The look of terror on these people's faces when they know they’re caught.

He helps you with all of the boxes, purposely taking a little longer just so he can talk to you. The way you speak, the way you look at him with eyes full of innocence, the way he knows what his intentions are and still can’t seem to stop himself…

Fuck, he’s doing the wrong thing. He knows he is. And yet, he’s not holding back.

Once all of the boxes of decorations and basic home necessities are placed in your threshold, Javi smiles softly. “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

You nod. “Thanks again for your help,” you tell him for the millionth time. “I’ll be in by eight…ish. If I can find a cab. Do cabs drive by here?”

Javi blinks at you. It takes him a moment to put the pieces together. “You don’t have a car yet. You won’t get it until roughly next week.” He sighs. He remembers that, waiting for the embassy to make true on their promise to give him a car. It took days longer than it should’ve. “I can drive you.”

Your big, soft eyes widen a little. “Oh, no, it’s fine. I wouldn’t want to be an inconvenience—”

He waves dismissively and cuts you off. “No, really. I mean, I have to go to the embassy anyway, might as well give you a lift.”

You hesitate, biting into that plump bottom lip of yours. He can already imagine himself tugging it out from between your teeth, running his thumb over it…

“Really,” he insists. “It’s no problem. I’ll even let you pick the music,” he teases.

That gets a little giggle out of you. “Alright,” you give in after a moment. “Okay. Thank you. So, uh, I’ll be ready at eight.”

Javi smiles softly, his most dashing, charming smile. “Good, I’ll see you tomorrow, then. Good night.”

“‘Night,” you reply, a soft pink filling your cheeks when he playfully winks at you before walking away.

This is a mistake, he thinks to himself as he walks down to his apartment. I should stay away from her.

But deep down, Javier knows he won’t. He can’t. He wants a lot of things from you, but keeping his distance? It's just not one of them.

Dividers from @cafekitsune they're all amazing!!! Thank you for creating these gorgeous works!

If you guys want me to start a taglist for this fic, lmk! Ily!!! Please don't forget to comment, reblog and like <3

[teddyeyeseddie]

The Cherrywood Motel

Starry Haze, Crystal Ball

rockstar!Eddie x housekeeper!reader

masterlist

(a/n: ITS BACKKKK AND SO AM I!! Enjoy my lovelies and visit my blog for some life updates!)

warnings: soft eddie, smut, minors dni, oral (fem rec), p in v, cream pie x 2, riding, showering together, a jump from last chapter.

now playing:

You lug all your clothes into the laundromat down the street, heaving the heavy bag onto the table before you once you’ve made your way inside. The smell of bleach and laundry detergent mixes in your nostrils as you sort your piles of dirties.

It’s early in the morning, the only person in the place being you and an elderly woman. You enjoy the quiet, only the soft whirring of the dryers breaking the silence.

You separate your lights from darks, throwing your first load in when a familiar voice resonates through the quaint room.

“Shit- fuck,” you look over to see Eddie struggling with a bag of laundry. You chuckle to yourself, your eyes meeting his. His face lights up when he sees you.

“Hey stranger,” he breathes out as he settles in at the table next to you.

“Hi Eddie,”

Ever since Eddie woke up in your bed, things had been different. Eddie seemed happier, his demeanor not so jittery. You talked more, Eddie revealing more about his life.

You learned he was really a dork. Knows a little too much about horror movies, still plans D&D campaigns for fun, and collects mugs from every new place he goes.

He’s become softer, more himself in the last few days. You found yourself getting closer to him, his magnetic force drawing you in with every little conversation.

His captivating personality had you expressing more things about yourself, like your favorite flower, how you got the scar on your shoulder, and all about your childhood cat, Mr. Snuffles.

Talking to Eddie when he was sober was easy, he didn’t go on unnecessary tangents, he wasn’t as flirty and he looked oh so pretty when he was healthy.

His usual red eyes now pure, no sign of distress in them. He even started taking care of his hair, his usual frizzy locks now smooth and curly. He was doing better. You were proud of him.

“Didn’t think I’d be seeing you today,” he says, pulling out all of his clothes and settling them into a pile. He gathers them all in his arms, walking towards a washer.

“Aren’t you gonna sort them?” you ask, chuckling to yourself as Eddie struggles with the large amount of clothes he has in his hands.

“I never do?” he says as if it's almost a question.

“Well, I’m sure you have some 200 dollar shirts in there that are begging to be sorted,”

“My uh- lady at home usually does it. This is how I used to do laundry when I was a kid,”

You roll your eyes, motioning for him to come back to the table.

You sort his dirty clothes for him, it feels pathetic but the smile he has on his face as you help him makes it somewhat worth it.

“You’ve gotta sort lights from darks. I’d suggest separating your whites too but I don’t want you to keel over,”

He chuckles, grabbing the pile of darks and carrying them to a washer. He puts in his quarters, handing you some so you can start the pile of lights.

“So what are you up to for the rest of the day?” he questions as he strolls back to the tables where your clothes still lay.

“Nothing really, apartment hunting for a little bit and then back to the motel,” you gather your pile of clothes, turning towards the washers and placing the items inside. Eddie swoops in front of you and puts quarters in for you, you playfully roll your eyes but smile up at him nonetheless.

“Oooh, that should be fun,” he scratches at the back of his neck, “I uh- owe you for bailing me out so just let me know what you need for the security deposit and I’ll write a check,”

“Thank you Eddie, but you don’t have to. I lost your jacket, I bailed you out, were even,”

Eddie shakes his head, curls flying in all directions at the erratic movement.

“Someone stole my jacket from you, you didn’t just leave it for anyone to take. Plus I can,so let me,” he states, eyes locking with yours in a stare.

“Just let me, it’s the least I can do-” you nod your head, allowing the man to help you pay your way into a new apartment.

A feat that was easier said than done, you had looked at 5 separate places with Christa, none of them being anything close to what you wanted or needed.

You finally decide to call it quits and return back to the hotel, smiling when you see Eddie waiting outside your door with a pizza box in his hand. Christa sends you a wink as you get out of the car, a soft “enjoy yourself” falling from her lips.

Eddie grins widely when he sees you step out of Christa’s car.

“Sorry- thought you were home from your hunting,” he motions towards your car that is parked a few spots down from your door.

“Kinda got stuck at our last place. Creepy landlord,” you straighten out the pleats of your skirt as Eddie sucks in a breath in through his teeth, wincing dramatically.

“At least you dodged that bullet,” he says as he leans against the doorframe waiting for you to open it, his slim shoulders doing a good job at boxing you in. The smell of his cologne makes your mind whir, gone are the days of dried puke and alcohol.

You unlock the door, Eddie’s hand pushing it open forcing you to duck underneath his arm. He lets the door close softly behind him once he is inside, being sure to lock the deadbolt.

He places the pizza box on the small table by the window. He draws the curtains, blocking out the rest of the world and turning the room into a space that was only for the two of you.

“Got your favorite,” he motions to the box with his thumb as he walks up behind you. You’re stepping out of your shoes when Eddie’s arm snakes around your front, under your arm and resting on your collarbone. He’s come over every night since the cleaning fiasco, you talk about the ten-day-whirlwind that the two of you have embarked on and get to know eachother even more.

Eddie spends most of his time apologizing when you recall anything from the short time of knowing him, ashamed of how much he had hurt you.

It’s been a week of take-out, today bringing you to day seventeen. Ten days of hell and seven of something in between a raging fire and a rumbling earthquake- scalding your skin and shaking off the dust settled deep in your soul.

His arm comes undone from you, his hand tracing down your tricep, over your elbow, ghosting down your forearm, finally grasping your hand as he draws you towards the radio sitting in the corner of the room.

Eddie liked to dance- he twirled to what he called your “teeny bopper” music, he swayed his hips to country music, he even danced to his own music when you forced him to listen to it one night.

Eddie danced with you tonight- his fingers fit perfectly through yours, his hand rested right in the dip of your waist, his lips looked pretty in this light.

“Are you thinking about kissing me, sweets?” He questions, a smile forming on his lips as he leans forward. You blush nervously, nodding your head. His smile gets even wider before he leans in, lips capturing yours.

Both his hands come to cup your face, cheeks tugging and eyes crinkled as he leans in further. His other hand comes to rest on your hip, pushing backwards until your knees hit the back of the couch. You pull away, shifting from foot to foot as you wait for Eddie to take the reins. He chuckles softly before capturing your lips in another soft kiss before pulling away and plopping down onto the couch. He pulls you into his lap, kissing the corner of your mouth, then your cheek, then down your neck, all the way to your shoulder.

His eyes meet yours, his hands fumbling with the edge of your sweater. A plea on the edge of his lips as he looks up at you. You nod, letting him remove the garment from your body. He audibly moans at the sight, your breasts bouncing freely only leaving you in your skirt.

“Please tell me you have panties on,” he mumbles, hand snaking down to your center. He bites his lips and groans when he’s met with your sticky folds.

“S’ laundry day,” you giggle.

His fingers trace through your slick, he has half a mind to shove the fingers in your face, make you lick yourself off of him. But When he glances over your face, your pouting lips and furrowed brow send his heart racing. He decides right then that you're an angel. He thinks there’s no way you're real, there is absolutely no way you’re here with him.

He wraps his arm around your waist, standing from his place on the couch. He walks you back to the bed as you kiss up the side of his neck. He lands you on the middle, arms caging you in as he leans down to kiss you. He’s much slower this time, desperate clashing of teeth melting to well thought out movements.

You pull away from him, hands coming to mess with the edge of his old band tee.

“You’re much too dressed for the occasion, Mr. Munson,” you giggle out. He smiles down at you, getting up to strip out of his clothes. You hold your breath when he pulls down his boxers, his cock springing out and slapping against his belly. It’s big and you’re sure he knows it.

He crawls back up the bed, kissing from your ankle to your neck. He splays kisses across your face, finally meeting your lips in a sweet kiss.

His eyes bore into yours as he pushes some hair from your face before kissing you again, but he pulls away much too quickly for your liking.

“M’ gonna eat you out now, kay’?” he mumbles against your lips, you nod, throwing your head back as Eddie begins to kiss back down your body. He stops at the waistband of your skirt, mumbling something to himself before hooking his fingers in the band and pulling the fabric over your bottom.

He moans at the sight of your center, leaning forward to press a kiss to your thighs before diving in completely. He licks from your hole, up to your clit, tongue dancing around the bundle of nerves. Your knuckles grip the white sheets, mind reeling as he works you up to an orgasm. He laps at your pussy, pulling away to spit on his fingers.

His ringed fingers come to push through the sticky mess the two of you have created, one finally pushing in, drawing a guttural moan from your lips. The cold metal of his rings bump against your skin every time he thrusts his fingers in and out. He works you up to three before pulling them out completely, mouth still assaulting your clit, causing you to squeal.

“You ready f’me?” he questions, mouth still between your legs. You tug on his hair, pulling him away from your center, nodding profusely with a smile on your face.

He pushes you further up the bed, settling in between your legs. His cock nudges at your hole, the tip catching inside, you mewl quietly when he pushes in. He leans down, arms settling on either side of your head, his hair tickling your nose as he looks down at you intently.

“So pretty,” You mumble, hand coming up to cup his cheek and draw him into a kiss. He smiles into it, pulling away and admiring the way your face contorts every time he punches that spongy spot inside you.

“S’ all you, sweets,” He moans, forehead pressing against yours as he drives into you. The pace he sets draws moan after moan from deep within you.

Your hand stays cupping his face, kissing him again, your lips barely brushing his when he pulls away.

“C’mon pretty girl, tell me what it is. Wanna know what I should be moaning while I ruin you.”

You shutter a breath out- your name falling off your lips and into the air.

“F-fuck..” he’s full on smiling, his eyes crinkling as he languidly thrusts inside you.

“Eds-Eddie. M’ close,”

“Shit-ok. Where do you want me?” He picks up his pace, cock nudging at all the right places.

“Inside- want you inside,” Your legs lock around his waist, forcing him to bury himself to the hilt as he spills inside of you.

He’s giggling when you finally release him, pulling his still hard cock from inside you and smearing around the mess that has formed between your legs.

“Look so good painted all pretty for me. Could take a picture and look at it all tour long. Would never haveta’ look anywhere else. Just me this little memory and my hand,” he’s pulling your ass cheeks apart, releasing them before his thumb hooks into your pussy as he rummages around on the side table- careful not to knock down the countless polaroids around the camera.

“Can I sweets? Take a pretty little polaroid of this pretty little pussy?” he thrusts his thumb in further, drawing more cum out of you. You giggle when you feel it run down your thighs as you give him a soft hum in response to his question.

He snaps a picture of your most bare area, the idea makes you blush but then there's the idea of Eddie- using it. That makes it feel alright.

“Just wanna take one more,” he says as his cock nudges at your hole again, the puffy skin wanting to scream no but the burn short circuiting your brain at the same time.

He snaps another picture once he’s half inside you, your hands covering your face as you giggle.

“Enough of that,” he says with a small chuckle as he tosses the camera back onto the bedside table. His hands grip your hips as he lazily thrusts into you.

After finally having enough of Eddie’s teasing, you push at Eddie’s belly, signaling him to stop. He flashes you a confused look as he pulls out but soon gets the idea once you scramble off the bed and begin pushing him towards the couch.

He flops down onto the cushions, legs spreading wide. Deft fingers wrapping around your hips as you sink down onto him, your arms snake around his neck and pull at the hair sitting at the nape.

Eddie looks up at you in awe, his eyes never leaving yours as you ride him. His lips are parted, soft breaths and moans tumbling from his mouth.

“Shit- baby I- I can’t last like this-” He groans as he tries to stop your movements. You grab his hand, raising it and placing it on your breast.

“C’mon sweets, come in me again,” He moans sweetly at his own pet name being used against him, his hips stilling once he is settled inside you. He buries his head in your neck as he comes, teeth biting in as he silences himself.

You let him stay inside you for a while, finally pulling off of him when Eddie begins to rub at the skin on your hips.

You’re up on wobbly legs, shooting Eddie a glare when he begins to chuckle.

He throws his hands up in defense and motions to the mess between his legs. Cum has dripped down his balls and pooled in his seat.

“Gonna need to spot clean this one miss housekeeper,” He winces as he gets up, collecting you in his arms and placing a kiss to the top of your head.

“Let’s shower, yeah?”

You nod, taking his hand as he guides you to the small porcelain tub. He turns on the water, testing it with his fingers before stepping in once it has warmed up. He extends his hand to you, thanking him quietly once you're standing before him in the tiny shower.

He takes a step back, moving out of the spray and allowing you to warm up under the water. You take turns getting your bodies warmed up, Eddie finally assuming his position behind you washing your hair.

“You mentioned tour,” you blush as you recall the memory from moments ago. Eddie’s stops scrubbing your scalp and sighs.

“I- I’m leaving,” he says in an almost whimper.

“Oh, when?”

“Two days,”

[okiedokrie]

Bubblegum Bitch

Summary: The pink-glittered "bubblegum bitch" named Seungkwan thinks he runs the school with his pretty mini skirts and cute crop-tops. He picks on the wrong guy and up biting off more than he can chew, or rather, swallow.

Characters/Pairing(s): Sub!Brat!Seungkwan x Mean Dom!Male!Reader

Genre: Smut, Crack

AUs/Trope info: Mean Girls!AU (They are ADULTS), Bully/Victim to lovers

Word Count: 2,471

Warnings: mentions of bullying, feminization (sorta), calling boo's chest "tits" or "boobs", boo has nipple piercings, smut warnings under the cut

Rating: 18+

A/N: thank you @onlymingyus for the help with coloring boo 😭 and the rest of svthub for feedback and banner help~ reupload from old blog!!

Smut Warnings: dacryphilia, anal, oral (reader receiving), kwan being a fuckin BRAT, hair pulling, face fucking, unprotected sex, degradation, small dick boo, creampie (this tag will make sense later)

You sat there in shock as the ice-cold Americano ran down your hair and face, staining your shirt and sending chills throughout your body. Seungkwan stood behind you, holding the now empty Starbucks cup over your head, perfectly manicured nails digging into the plastic as a scowl mixed with a smirk carved into his pretty face.

Gasps could be heard from throughout the cafeteria, Seungkwan was pissed and he needed to do something about it, and it just so happened that you were the closest "nerd" in his vicinity.

"Oops, sorry. You looked like the trashcan." He said in this shrilly, forced giggle. The giggle still felt chillier than the ice stuck in your hair as he proceeded to throw the cup at your head. Walking away after he didn't get the reaction he wanted out of you.

He turns to leave the cafeteria, hips swaying that made his pink skirt swish as his heels clacked on the tile floor.

Your friend, Hansol, turned to check on you, "Are you okay? I didn't expect him to take that out on you." he says with genuine concern.

"No, I'm fine. He's just a bitch and that's nothing new." You finally found your voice, picking the ice from your hair and dropping it down on your food tray.

"I don't think we should go to that party tonight, Seungkwan's gonna be there and I'd rather not be around him for a while." Hansol said, He wasn't really the party, or the Seungkwan liker type, so this suggestion didn't really surprise you.

"Nah, this doesn't bother me. I’m gonna be drunk anyways." You say, shrugging off your jacket and patting yourself dry with some tissues.

"Whatever man, I'm staying out of this one." He says, standing up to get you more tissues.

The day was uneventful after that, a few of your classmates came to check up on you, but other than that, nothing much happened for the rest of the day.

Okay, maybe Hansol had the right idea of not going to this party.

Not only did the alcohol already run out by the second hour, but the place was way too crowded even to enjoy the dancing. You just opted to camp out in one of the spare bedrooms to take a nap, luckily, you found one that wasn't occupied and you went in immediately.

Sitting down on the bed, you let your back hit it as you exhale, throwing your arm over your eyes in an attempt to calm the raging headache that you're experiencing.

You hear the door swing open, the loud music from downstairs spilling into the room as someone entered, it seems they had the same idea as you.

"Oh sorry, I didn't know someone was here- you?!" Seungkwan said with a shriek, his face laced with pure horror as he realized who was in the room with him.

"Oh shut the fuck up Seungkwan, I came here to take a nap. Don't get your panties in a twist." You say, pinching your nose and rolling over onto your back, burying your face in the pillow.

You hear Seungkwan shifting uncomfortably where he stood, he wanted to leave but he didn't want to show his face outside after people started throwing up downstairs.

He sighs, and you hear him walking towards you as you feel the bed dip, "Scoot over." He pushes you slightly, making room for himself. "This is so degrading, sharing a bed with you." He mumbles, mostly to himself.

"Yeah, whatever." You say, slightly muffled by the pillow, just as you are about to drift off you feel Seungkwan poking your side, "Entertain me, I'm bored."

You raise your head to look at him, the single lamp behind his head making a halo around his blonde hair, he's wearing a graphic tee with his signature pleated skirt and fishnets, heavy boots that end just below his kneecap, and finishing silver jewelry. He looks amazing, as usual.

"Do I look like a fucking clown to you? Entertain yourself." Still, he's getting on your last nerves, no matter how pretty he is all you feel is distaste for the blonde next to you.

"Since when were you hot?" Seungkwan blurts out suddenly, shifting in his sitting position to straighten his back. Horror ran across his face as the weight of what he said sank down on him.

"Oh?" This piqued your interest, and rolling over onto your back again, "You're not bad yourself, but you know that already, you don't dress like a slut and not know it."

Degradation, nobody has ever degraded Seungkwan in the way that you were doing right now, it was hot. His face flushes, running a hand through his blonde hair, "Oh, that's..." his train of thought stops there, the room suddenly becoming too hot for him.

"What? Don't tell me you're into that?" You say degradingly, his face gets redder, a pout forming on his lips, the gloss on his lips catching the soft glow of the lamp.

He clears his throat, ripping his eyes away from you. “Oh fuck off I’m not into that shit”  he grumbles shifting his body so that his back was facing you. You raised an eyebrow, "Are you sure about that?" You say, propping yourself up onto your elbows to face him, admiring the view.

"I'm sure." He says, his back still facing you.

"You don't sound so sure." You drag the word out, a hand trailing down your body, "You're lying." Your fingers brushed the hem of his panties he was wearing a pair of bubble pink panties, a comfy pair of cotton.

"What the fuck would I be lying about?" He says, a hint of worry in his voice.

"Your lil kink," You say, your fingers brushing under his skirt, a gasp escaped his lips and his face flushed pink.

"Stop talking, you're pulling shit out of your ass." He said in a sharp tone, though, the way he leans back into your touch betrays his outward aversion.

"I don't think I will. after all the slut asked me to entertain him" You lay back down on the bed, your eyes staring at the ceiling, you hear him sigh, and turn his head to face you.

"What the hell are you up to? You know that you'd lose everything if anyone found out about any of this." He says, his face still flushed with pink.

"Then no one has to know." You say, your cock twitches at your own words.

"Fuck." He says, biting his lip, and turning to face you. "You know, you're a damn cunt for being so convincing," he says, eyeing the tent in your jeans with a lust that wasn't there before.

"It's not my fault you're a needy slut." You say, sitting up fully, Seungkwan groans at this, crawling up the bed to straddle you.

"Yeah I'm a slut, I would've slept with you already if you weren't a fucking nerd." He said, sitting directly on your tent, his weight on your crotch made you throw your head back with a moan.

"What changed now?" You asked, grabbing onto the fabric of his skirt as he continued to not-so-subtly grind down on you.

"Oh you know," he started, already breathless, "didn't know you had that mouth to you." Placing a hand on your stomach. You smirk condescendingly at him, holding his hips down while you thrust up once, pressing your hard-on to his crotch.

You flip his skirt up, finding a small wet patch on his panties, his cock pressing against the thin fabric to get your attention. “Well, there’s more that my mouth could do,” you said as your eyes met his again, opting to grab the back of his neck to pull him into a searing kiss, he let out a muffled whimper as you pushed your tongue into his mouth, small hands holding onto your shirt.

You grip the hair behind his head, forcefully pulling him off your face. You watch as the string of saliva that connected you breaks, Seungkwan looks dazed, he is just recovering from the shock of that kiss. “But I’d rather see what yours could do.” 

You push him off of you and onto his back, his frame bouncing slightly at the impact, he lets out a gasp. You crawl towards him, taking only a moment to undo your belt and jeans. Seungkwan finally gets a good look at your cock as you take it out of your boxers. Stroking your cock, you say, “Y’know, I don’t think you deserve this.” Seungkwan’s eyes widened at the thought, his eyes glazing over with a desperate mist, “But you can let me fuck your face and I’ll think about letting you hop on this dick.”

Almost immediately, Seungkwan opens his mouth, sticking his tongue out whining, and moaning followed after, “Aw, at the end of the day you are just a cock-hungry whore.” You say condescendingly, pushing your cock into his mouth with a grunt, holding his head down by his hair.

Seungkwan’s eyes roll to the back of his head, mascara running down his face as he lets you fuck it. Perfect lipgloss smearing on his cheeks makes him look more fucked out than he actually was, but nevertheless, his head is pleasantly empty.

“What? Anything to say to me now?” You laugh at the state of the boy under you, struggling to take your cock down his throat as he tries to speak, but obviously fails, this strokes your ego even more, having this much power over your tormenter. His muffles and whines send vibrations through your cock, and your grip on his hair tightens as you fuck his throat faster, his mascara stopped running down his face on account that it ran out, now replaced with a stream of clear tears wetting his cheeks.

You were close, but you didn’t want this to end just yet. You grab his hair, pulling him off your cock, he takes in big gulps of air, “Stop pulling my hair you ass.” He said, his voice hoarse from the rough usage of his throat, the string of saliva connecting his lips and your cock breaking from his snarky words.

“I would if you weren’t so into it, you’re damn near cumming in your panties babyboy.” You tug on his hair again to add insult to injury. 

You hold his hips, hands slipping under his skirt to pull down his panties. After taking it off him, you hold up the article of clothing in front of his face, “Look, you soaked this tiny thing.” You say before stuffing the pair into his mouth, “I like you better when you shut the fuck up.”

Flipping his skirt up, you can't help but chuckle a little at the sight before you. “Is this how you get away with these slutty outfits you got going on? Tiny, useless cock. You were made to take it, weren’t you? Whore.” His response was muffled by the panties in his mouth, his hands gripping the sheets below him. You flip his crop-top over his tits, seeing shiny silver on them, you take this as an opportunity to suck and pull on them, his sensitive nipples wending more pre-cum to his cute cock.

“You say that you hate me, but you’re under me, taking everything I give you.” You say, licking stripes onto his chest, “You hate me, but you want me so badly, you talk so much shit but as soon as I fight back you’re showing this cute hole to me.”

“This is mine now, I’m gonna fuck the mean out of you until you’re just an empty-headed cockslut, just for me.” Seungkwan’s eyes rolled back, cumming untouched just by your words, he was shaking, whining, and moaning into the fabric gagging him as he sobbed from the intense pleasure.

“If you think I’m done with you, you’re so fucking wrong.” You gripped his small cock, stroking him, Seungkwan started cringing in overstimulation, squirming into the sheets as you continued to milk him for his worth. You collect some of his cum, rubbing your fingers together to coat them with it. You head towards his puckering hole, rubbing the slick onto the hole before pushing one finger in.

“Gotta open you up for my big cock, you need to take everything I give you, it’s the least you could do after disturbing what was supposed to be my nap.” Seungkwan let out a muffled moan, nodding in agreement with you. For every thrust of your finger, he lets out a squeal of a moan, back arching off the bed with the creek of the springs protesting under his weight.

You add another finger, the pair of panties falling out of Seungkwan’s mouth with how wide he opened them, “Oh god! Don’t stop, please, fuck!” he writhed, hips bucking up to meet your fingers, them hitting just the spot that made Seungkwan delirious, “Fuck, fuck, fuck me!” 

Panting heavily, he says, “Fuck, just give me your cock, I want it, I need it, I need to cum from your cock, please!” Seungkwan says in desperation, too far gone to realize half the words he said were senseless babbles.

“Fuck, yeah, you want my cock? You’ll get it.” Taking your fingers out of him, stroking your cock with your still wet fingers while he lifts his hips up to present his hole to you, stretched out and ready for you, you take your cock and line it up with his hole, slowly pushing in with little resistance.

“Fuck! M’so full, fuck me pleasepleaseplease-” He’s practically drunk at this point, you start to thrust at a steady pace, Seungkwan’s tongue sticking out from his head being pleasantly empty, moans freely spill from his lips, much like the fact that he’s also drooling at the moment.

He’s so tight, squeezing your cock like he was just asking to get filled, the look on Seungkwan’s fucked-out face demanded that you stuff him full of your cum, and you know what? Who are you to deny him?

Skin slapping on skin, wet shlucking noises, and Seungkwan’s high-pitched whining made it incredibly obvious what was happening in the room to people outside, “Mmfuck! M’gonna cum m’gonna cum m’gonna cum-” Seungkwan chanted, your name left his lips like a mantra, a prayer, even, as he came all over his skirt and your jeans for the second time tonight.

The image of Seungkwan’s fucked out face was enough to send you over the edge, hips stilling flush against his as you spill your seed in his inviting hole.

Both of you try to catch your breath, a silence only accompanied by heavy breathing before Seungkwan breaks it.

“Give me your number, I’m gonna need this dick for weeks.”

[fxrmuladaydreams]

hellloo! I'm new to your blog and am in love with your work!! Could I request a smutty Lando x reader with prompts 86 and 144? Like it sounds so Lando coded to me, something cute but hot? Or if you only take 1 prompt per request, I'm happy with just 86. Thanks so much for doing this <3

send me thoughts/blurb requests (sfw & nsfw) for lando weekend

warnings: !!CONTAINS SMUT, MINORS DNI!!, oral (f receiving), face sitting

Lando had been in his gaming chair for a good portion of the day. After being away for a race weekend you thought he’d be eager to spend some time with you. You thought he’d throw his suitcase to the side and he’d have his hands all over you as soon as he walked through the door.

He actually fell asleep almost immediately after coming home, his exhaustion from the weekend catching up to him. It was completely understandable for him to need rest. What was annoying was him waking up the next day and practically ignoring you.

He was testing out a new game, trying to see if it was something they could use for a new Quadrant video.

You’ve tried to pull him away multiple times now. At first it was “C’mon baby, you should rest.” Then it turned into “Let me help you relax.” Nothing seemed to be working.

It didn’t seem your tactic went unnoticed though, as you settled yourself into his lap, trailing kisses up and down his throat.

“Just let me finish this level and I swear I’ll go down on you until you cum at least three times.” He says, his eyes still locked on the screen in front of him. He smirks when he feels you freeze. “That’s what you wanted, isn’t it? Needy girl.”

You feel your face flush as you bury your nose in Lando’s neck, softly biting at his skin.

It takes him a few minutes to finish his game before the tosses his controller to the side and scoops you up, carrying you to his bed. He takes off you clothes, kissing your skin as it’s revealed.

Once he’s rid you of your clothing, he lays with you still fully clothed. He lets you rock your hips against his, the denim of his jeans brushing against you deliciously.

“I want you to sit on my face.” He says as he kisses down your neck.

You make a face, shaking your head. “What? No Lando, I’ll suffocate you or something.”

“That’d be a perfect way to go out, suffocating between your legs.” He smirks.

“Lando…”

“Think of how fun it’ll be. I give you a couple of mind-blowing orgasms, and you let me have my favorite treat.” He gives you a small pout, attempting to break your resolve. “I haven’t gotten to have you for a week, I think I might die if I don’t get to taste you right this minute.”

He senses your hesitation but doesn’t fail to notice the way you grind yourself against him as he talks.

He lays further back so that he’s laying down flat. He softly pushes you up until you’re straddling his chest. “Don’t be shy now, sit on my face.”

You slowly move so that you’re hovering over him, a leg on either side of his head.

“What if I hurt you?” You look down at him between your legs.

“You won’t, I promise.” You don’t look convinced. “If you get uncomfortable at all, just say the word and we’ll stop.”

You nod, and take a deep breath before slowly lowering yourself down onto his face. It feels different, a little odd at first, but as soon as his tongue gets to work all your worries slip from your mind.

Lando wraps his arms around your thighs, keeping you locked against him as you feel yourself ride his face. A hand drops down to tangle itself in his curls, while the other rests against the wall in front of you, keeping you from falling forward.

Lando has gone down on you a lot over the course of your relationship, once even claiming “you were his favorite meal of the day”. But nothing could’ve prepared you for this.

He’s devouring you like a man starved. This new angle causes his nose to bump against your clit repeatedly as his tongue moves in and out of you.

“Lando, I’m gonna cum.” You whine, rocking yourself against him at a steady pace.

His grip on your thighs becomes tighter, as if you’d be sadistic enough to pull off of him.

When you do cum, he takes everything you give him, slurping and licking away all of you that he can. He only lets you lift yourself off of him slightly, just enough to get a good look at him.

His hair is a mess, sticking out in all different directions. The bottom half of his face is slick with remnants of your release. He’s got a proud, lopsided grin on his face.

“Wasn’t that fun?”

“Yeah, yeah it was.” You smile down at him.

He pulls you back down just as you try to get up. “I promised three, didn’t I?” He asks, his voice slightly muffled.

His tongue is back to work before you can even process his question, ready to pull at least two more orgasms out of you.

[wildemaven]

Sweet Creature: Epilogue

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x F!Reader

WC: 1609

Warnings: 18+ Blog: p in v, established relationship, fluff, Dieter in distress, mentions of sobriety

Series Masterlist / Playlist / Main Masterlist

Previous

The morning light filters through the sheer curtains, a harsh reminder of how time is of the essence. 

A sheen of sweat drapes over your bodies, a give and take shared effort, bedsheets lost in the shuffle of positions and tangled limbs. 

“Yes, Dieter— Don’t stop! Please!” You whine. 

Your fingers digging into the bulge of his biceps, his arms flexed and teasing you, delicious eye candy from where you're situated below him. 

“Fuck! Poppy, I’m close— shit! You gotta help me out here babe, I’m gettin’ a fuckin’ cramp in my ass cheek.” His hips begin their signature staggering thrusts, signaling his climax is imminent. 

You snake your hand between your bodies, bypassing your tiny bundle of nerves, your fingers sliding through your spread folds, feeling the way his cock sinks into your pulsing cunt repeatedly. 

“Dammit, Poppy! Quit fucking around— fuckfuckfuck! I fucking love that you want to enjoy this, but I n-need you to come with m-me— ah!” His neck tensing as he tries to stave off his mind-blowing finale. 

It doesn’t take much, your fingers nimbly work in circles over your sensitive clit, triggering your cunt to seize up, building up a network of arousing tingles across your spine. 

The room is filled with a blend of explicits and desperate moans— both of you slingshotting over the edge in euphoric unison. 

His head rests on your chest, your rapid heart beat punching up against his ear as you try to regulate your breathing. 

Your fingers scratch at his scalp in a casual manner, his locks damp and clinging to your skin. 

“Happy 6 years sober babe!” You manage to breathe out. 

“Thank you.” Lifting his head, a kiss to your heart then a kiss to your awaiting lips. “I love you, Pops!”

“I love you, babe. What time is it?”

Dieter looks over to your side of the bed where your alarm clock sits on the nightstand. 

“It’s 7:35.”

“Shit! Oh fuck! Get up, I’m late!” You push his exhausted body, his softened cock slipping out of you as he rolls to his side, his cum dripping down your thighs as you scramble out of bed. 

Throwing open your closet door to grab clothes for the day, the clothes you had asked Dieter to throw into the dryer and put away are nowhere to be found. 

“Dieter— did you put those clothes in the dryer yesterday? I can’t find any of my clean work clothes.” Actively searching through every hanger and shelf, only spotting a few pairs of dirty slacks and blouses shoved into the laundry that didn’t make it into the wash. 

“Uh, no— definitely did not. Sorry, Wren and I got sidetracked making cookies and I must have forgotten.” He replies, still sprawled out and naked on the bed. 

“No— it’s fine. I’ll just wear casual clothes again, hopefully the ladies in the office keep their glaring to a minimum this time.” You give him a pointed look.

“What? You say that like this is a regular occurrence.” His hands shoot in defense. 

“That’s because it is, this is the fifth time just this month alone Dieter.” You say as you grab for the jeans and shirt that have been making a regular appearance over the last 5 years that you and Dieter have been together. 

“Well, I never hear you complaining in the moment.” He has a point. 

“Fuck! I don’t have time for a shower either, you're going to be dripping out of me all day!” Using a dirty shirt to wipe up Dieter’s spend that’s smeared between your legs. 

“Not gonna lie, that’s fucking hot—“ The shirt you had used to clean yourself flies across the room and hits him in the face. 

“They should do away with a teacher uniform all together, seems very not with the times to require adults to wear stuffy clothes when they’re dealing with kids all day. Bring that up at your next meeting.” He suggests, pulling the cum covered shirt away from his face, giving it a quick experimental sniff before tossing onto the pile of bedsheets on the floor.

“Yeah, I’ll make sure to bring that up at the next meeting.” You laugh, but you can’t help but agree with him. 

It’s a mad dash to pull yourself together, but you manage to look like you didn’t just get fucked to pieces. 

“Alright, I gotta go— I love you.” Crawling back on to the bed to give him a goodbye kiss. 

“Love you.” He moans as he tries to deepen the kiss. 

“Oh my god! You’re the worst Dieter! I’ve got to go.” 

“Wash your dick today, it was smelling a little musty earlier.” You yell back down the hall, before heading out the door. 

“Really?” Dieter says to himself, looking down at said dick laying flaccid over his thigh. 

*

As predicted, the glares were on display as you walked onto the school grounds, bypassing a stop at the teachers lounge for the comfort of your classroom— you decide the whispered snickers between the office ladies were not high up on your ‘things I want to deal with today.’

Despite your lateness, students must have sensed your off kilter presence and were on top of their responsibilities of reading and writing while you sifted through your daily lesson plans. 

To your surprise, you had managed to forget to make copies yesterday for 3 worksheets needed after the students were done with printing their weekly words. 

There’s a light knock on your open classroom door that grabs your attention. 

Standing in the doorway is Dieter, with two coffees in hand. 

“Hey! What are you doing here?” You ask, knowing at least one of the coffees he’s holding is for you. 

“Figured, since I was partly to blame for your tardiness, I thought I’d try and make it up to you.” Giving you his best puppy dog eyes, holding up both coffees in your direction. 

“Two?! Oh my god, I love you!” Grabbing for both of them, giving each cup a glance over to see his cute little notes perfectly placed on the sides of both—- setting them on your desk then returning to where he’s still standing by the door. 

“Are you busy?” You ask, looking over your shoulder to double check your students are still working on their assignments. 

“No, I’m free today. I’ve got the new girl running the gallery on her own, so far no calls of distress.”

Dieter’s hand reaches out taking hold of your fingers, his thumb running over the tops of your knuckles. He tilts his head forward to look at you over the frames of his sunglasses. 

“You need something from me?” His eyebrows waggling at you. 

“Actually, yes!”

His smile grows nearly ten times. 

“I need to make some copies, you think you can watch them for me?” 

Your idea of needing something was not what he had in mind, but he’s more than willing to help you out. 

“Yeah, I got them. Go do your teacher things, I’ve got this handled.” 

*

It takes you no longer than 5 minutes to head straight to the office and make your copies, avoiding every side-eyed glance shot in your direction. 

60 sheets of freshly printed worksheets, warm and neatly stacked in hand, you make your way back to Dieter and your students. 

You can hear Dieter’s boisterous voice as you walk closer to the classroom, taking a minute to watch from outside the door. 

All 20 kids seem less than entertained by him, deadpan stares and little to no excitement— it could be worse and they could be like last year's students who convinced him you let them go to break early, coming back to an empty classroom was heart attack inducing and thankfully no one picked up on the random man with a group of kids chasing each other in the soccer field. 

A hand in the back of the class gingerly raises. 

“Yes, kid in the back— you don’t happen to have a brother with a weird haircut, do you?” His eyes narrowed as he sees a slight resemblance in the hair department to a past student of yours. 

“I don’t have a brother.” 

“Huh, weird coincidence then. What’s your question?”

“Why do you wear your sunglasses inside if there’s no sun?” 

Your hand comes up to muffle you laugh, but Dieter catches the snort that emits from your nose. 

“That’s enough questions for the day.” He retorts quickly, then makes his way to where you’re still standing outside. 

“Okay class, go ahead and pull out a sharp pencil,  I’ll be there in a minute so we can do our math test.” 

You lean back against the wall, taking in Dieter’s defeated demeanor. 

“This class isn’t as fun as your previous ones, those kids in there are ruthless. They refused to call me Uncle Dude too— You need to get a new class stat.” He points in the direction of your students, completely flustered by the fact that not one of them found him fun. 

“If I remember correctly, didn’t you play a teacher once?” You sarcastically ask him. 

“That’s enough outta you.” He smirks, crowding you against the wall, giving you a less than appropriate kiss for school grounds— you welcome it fully.

A passing teacher clears their throat at the sight of Dieter and you, prompting him to pull away and rest his forehead on yours. 

“Thanks for watching them for me, and thanks for the coffee. I’ll see you later Uncle Dude.” 

Dieter leans in one last time, a kiss for the road. 

“I’ll see you at home, Mrs. Bravo.”

A/N: Thank you all for this amazing journey with Dieter and Poppy!! I’m going to miss them so so much!! But, I do have a few one shots already planned, and blind drabbles for them. I can’t thank @gnpwdrnwhiskey enough for diving into every chapter with me and being the most amazing beta to ensure everything was right for these two!! My ‘Asks’ are always open if you ever want to chat or scream about the series, Dieter and Poppy or anything else! Xx

[queerofcups]

a July rec list

I read a truly absurd amount of fanfic in July, and since I’m tracking my fic reading anyway these days, I figured, why not pull up some faves. I’ll do my best to tag authors when and where I can! I’ll throw some commentary in there to talk about why I like some of them, but rest assure this is a rec list and I think every one of them has something to love. 

Hockey RPF

In the scrawl of the ringside choir E, 37k, Hockey RPF | @goodnightpuckbunny Sid/Geno

“Geno, this is Sid Crosby,” Kris says, sitting back down. The kid towers over both of them, but seems small in the office. “You need a coach, so he’s gonna help you out.” He looks Sid over, eyes scanning like he’s looking for weaknesses, faults in his form. Sid has plenty, but he’s not fighting anymore. He doesn’t bother mirroring the gesture. He can guess without looking. “He old,” Geno eventually decrees. 

Interview with the Vampire

The Vampire Eric

E | 4k | falsescience (@theburialofstrawberries) Eric Bogosian/Jam Reiderson, Jam Reiderson

Oh ho, Eric thinks to himself, and then, aloud, because it’s just too delicious, and wouldn’t Rolin be ashamed, and a little pissed: “Oh ho!” He feels zapped alive: young, powerful, god-like. Jacob starts giggling immediately. “Did you just say ‘oh ho’?” “Or maybe aspen. What do you think, Eric?” “Not a damn clue,” says Eric, with a broad grin. “You look very satisfied. He looks very satisfied, doesn’t he?” Jacob smiles at Sam over his hitched shoulder. “Hm,” says Sam. “I think we play it safe, and go with red maple.” Yeah, Eric is certain: Jacob and Sam aren’t fucking. But they’d like to be.

First of all, I am RPF’ing these people real hard in some private chats. But largely, I like the characterization happening here, and the little turn of understanding that happens in the last third of the fic. 

reformation

E | 44k | verseau (@downstairsbar) Lestat/Louis

we're gonna heal. we're gonna start again. you've brought the orchestra, synchronized swimmers. // It makes him speechless sometimes, how much he loves Lestat. He thought for years, a decade, that it was sickness. It’s not. It’s not. Even when Louis hated Lestat, nothing was more certain than that he loved him.

There’s some great, great plotting and characterization here but/also I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve read a fic and known immediately that the author is Black. That’s obviously not a requirement of the fic I write but it's nice to have Southern Black characters really sound like people I’ve known/grown up around etc. 

let’s keep this off the record

E | 1.4k | anonymous

Louis/Santiago (sort of)

There would be no second chances for the Englishman, no opportunity for him to crawl out of some dump and seek revenge. Louis would make sure of that.

Honestly, I think it's great that fandom has a long and storied history of skullfucking. I think it's fun that weird shit like that still happens around here.

Maman

T | 2k | anonymous Claudia/Madeline, Louis/Lestat

Madeleine meets in the in-laws. Particularly one of them.

transpires

M-E | 5.8k total | familiar (@bigvampo or @camilliar? sekrit you've got so many blogs) Louis/Lestat

I mean, sekrit is just a fucking stellar writer. sekrit’s got a way of telling so much —  about a character, their mental state, the world their in —  in just a few razor sharp details. also these fics are so funny and the characterizations of Louis and Lestat feel like natural progressions from what we’ve seen in canon both in how much they love each other and how terrible they are (to each other and in general)

Harry Potter

Right. I think I’ve always been pretty upfront about my continued reading of Harry Potter fanfiction, but in case it's somehow necessary to say, please do not come to my inbox talking about JK Rowling. I don’t think about that woman and I’m very clear about what she thinks about me. 

Those Three Curses

E | 6k total | @dodgerkedavra Draco/Harry

Obviously I had a bit of a fucking dodgerkedavra moment here, but these blew me away. So much story telling in such little space. 

Former Things Come to Mind

E | 64k | dodgerkedavra

Harry Potter has had a headache for seven and a half years.

In the Presence of My Enemy E | 41k | dodgerkedavra Draco/Harry

All Harry knows is that Sectumsempra is for enemies. He doesn’t know that it will bind him to Draco Malfoy, for better or worse, ‘til death do them part.

Tiny Home

E | 30k | @wolfpants Draco/Harry/Ron

Harry and Ron left the Aurors years ago to travel the world and make up for lost time. When they finally decide to settle roots back in England, together, building a tiny home in the Lake District by hand seems like the perfect plan. What they don't realise is that Draco Malfoy already lives on the plot of land that they choose to build on. A story about years of feelings, about weaving lives in and around each other, and about finding a place safe enough to call home.

I really feel like there’s been an explosion of excellent Draco/Harry/Ron all of a sudden. One of my qualms with a lot of polyship fics is that it's very uhhh “we must do everything together” and I really love that this fic breaks that down and allows everyone to have histories and experiences together as dyads and all together. 

In Our Blood

E | 37k | secretsalex Draco/Harry

Draco is an accomplished pure-blood curse breaker, and Harry is tasked with accompanying him on his latest job—cleaning up the Van Boer mansion, which has been under a devastating fertility curse for seven generations.

I’m not even going to bullshit y’all. This fic reminded me why I love mpreg. Excellent use of body horror, body dread, suspense, all these things. Also, an mpreg fic that remembers abortion is a thing. Amazing!

Probationary Action

E | 63k | @toomuchplor Draco/Harry

As part of the terms of the probationary contract, DRACO LUCIUS MALFOY shall submit for inspection his WAND on the last day of every month, such inspection to be carried out by a duly registered and fully qualified AUROR in the employ of the MINISTRY OF MAGIC, and such inspection to include a PRIORI INCANTATEM spell to ensure that no PROHIBITED MAGICS as heretofore described have been practised by the aforementioned probationer.

I’ve been obsessed with toomuchplor since Inception and this fic reminded me why. I don’t love Auror!Harry fic (truly, just so much unchecked, delighted writing about police brutality) but I do like any fic where Harry starts to wake up to the fact that maybe just because they’re “the good guys”, not every choice made by the Aurors/Wizarding Gov’t in general is right. Also, I appreciate the expansion on the idea of sex charms!

Embers

E | 41k | @shiftylinguini Draco/Harry

Werewolf Alphas aren't meant to be alone, or to suppress their ruts indefinitely like Draco has been since he was bitten eight years ago. He needs company, companionship, to knot ― he needs an Omega Heat Companion. At least, that’s what the Healers say, and even Draco can admit contacting the person they’ve referred him to might be nice. Of course it turns out to be bloody Potter.

idk man, I like a fic that treats sex work like it's just a job. Worthy of respect, full of technical expertise, etc. 

--

Both of these next fics came from @hd-wireless which has been, pound for pound, one of the best fests I've ever witness and is a testament to how important having multiple fic fests in a fandom can be! so much good shit to read!

The most he’s ever said

E | 16k | anonymous Draco/Harry

It takes them twenty years.

Two Houses

E | 11k | anonymous Draco/Harry

Two households, both alike in... meddling Floo connections, apparently? Draco Malfoy is a highly professional and well-respected Ministry official, with a demanding schedule, a loving son, and—through no fault of his own—a faulty Floo connection that keeps regurgitating the Minister for Magic through his fireplace.

I really enjoy that there's been more of a trend of writing about these two as older people and fleshing out the characterization of their kids.

[eyelessfaces]

For the prompt list, may I humbly request "Have you eaten today?" with Llewyn? I don't know why, reading the list that just struck me (probably because we know he more than likely hasn't eaten enough but would be more concerned if you did or not) . Many thanks, you will be helping a retail employee have something to look forward to during my least favorite season lol. Good luck on exams!!

masterlist | taglist | ao3

updates blog @eyelessupdates

—

Your mouth quirks in a wide smile the moment you notice him sitting at the bar. You throw your sponge aside, postponing the boring task in order to walk up to him.

“Hey you” you throw with a sweet smile, leaning your arms against the counter. He smiles back at you as he gets rid of his fingerless gloves, shoving the pair in his pocket.

“Figured I'd pay you a visit” he smirks, readjusting his position on the bar stool as you pour him a glass of rum.

“Yeah? You're coming here just for my eyes?” you ask jokingly, though innocently really wondering if he’s coming here just to see you. 

“Yeah,” he confirms teasingly, scoffing. “I'm not even playing here tonight.” he declares, looking over his shoulder to take a glance at the stage occupied by a double act that reminds him a bit of him and Mike a few years ago. 

“I'm honored then” you half joke, pushing the glass over to him when he turns back. A smile quirks upon his face before his fingers come to wrap around the glass. You watch as he takes a sip of his drink, a sigh of relief escaping his mouth once the glass meets the surface of the counter again.

“Tough day?” you ask, quickly wiping crumbs from previous patrons off the counter.

“Yeah,” he scoffs in what could resemble a sigh, running a hand over his beard. “It’s fucking cold out there.”

“I know” your mouth curls into a compassionate smile. “I couldn’t run around all day like you do.” you declare. He sends you a weak smile in response, one that translates his deeply rooted exhaustion. “Hey, have you eaten at all today?” 

He scoffs. “Barely. This morning only” he declares, voice muffled from being surrounded by his glass.

“Llewyn what the fuck” you scold him, sighing before disappearing through the door behind the bar. 

He scoffs again, shaking his head in incomprehension. 

You come back less than a minute later, a plate of cheese and charcuterie in hand that you put down right in front of him, making him raise an eyebrow when he looks back up at you. 

“On the house.” you nod, pinching your lips in a smile. “Well, it's on me. Pappi's gonna get my ass if he hears about this. The guy loves his money” you correct, pointing down at the plate to get him to react when he’s stuck staring at you like a deer caught in headlights. 

He finally snaps out of it. “Thank you. You didn't have to” he smiles sheepishly.

“It’s alright” you shrug him off.

“Have you eaten tonight?” he asks, almost accusingly. 

“No, not yet” you declare. “But I have eaten since this morning” you snap back, a teasing smile over your face.

“When are you getting off?” he asks.

“Uh… In like twenty minutes”

He nods, and smiles as he pushes the plate in the middle of the surface so the both of you can share it. You chuckle and take a piece of cheese.

“Have anywhere to stay tonight?” you ask, and he barely has time to reply; you can see he doesn’t.

“Alright, you’re coming home with me. And we’ll get something better to eat. We’ll feast”

“Sounds good to me” he laughs, sending you a sweet smile that makes your heart sway. “I’ll take you out once I’m rich and famous” he chuckles, earning a smile and a laugh from you. Seeing you laugh makes him smile all the brighter.

[ramp-it-up]

I Still Have You

Paring: Chris Evans x Reader

Word count: 1.5 K

Summary: It’s a very pregnant Christmas for the Evanses.

Warnings: 18+ As always, MINORS DNI. RPF, SMUT. Not Beta’d. Flashbacks, discussion of miscarriages, grief, angst, beach vacay, piggy back ride, Kit cooking, family dynamics. Graphic depiction of pregnancy sex. Dunkin’. But mostly fluffy fluff.

A/N: This is for #DJ’sAllIWant4KChristmas and based on this ask. Also listen. Look me in my eyes. This was not easy for me to write and I don’t want to see any dumb comments about miscarriages. Heed the warnings. This is a part of the How I Met Your Father AU.

I no longer operate a taglist. Follow @rampitupandread to be notified when I post.

I Do NOT consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

Chris’s hand snaked around your baby bump and pulled you flush against his chest. You snuggled back against him and his hard body.

“Hmmmmm…G’morning.”

Chris buried his nose in your fragrant curls, your bonnet having come off in your sleep. You were less able to be comfortable as your pregnancy progressed, but luckily this pregnancy was healthy, despite the worry of the first few weeks.

You’d lost two pregnancies since you had the twins 12 years ago. You and Chris had been heartbroken, but decided not to try again and that your family was complete. You loved and lived life to the fullest.

However, when the twins were 12 years old, you discovered through a home pregnancy test that you were expecting again. It was right before your family trip last summer, and you were on edge for the first few days of the vacation.

You decided to tell Chris as you walked on the beach on the second evening.

“I have a secret to tell you, Chris.”

“What is it, Angel?”

Chris was a little concerned, you’d been jittery and moody. He stopped and looked at you in the light of the golden hour. You were so beautiful.

“Is everything okay?”

He reached for you and pulled you into his embrace. You relaxed into his strength, his warmth, and his smell. And you started crying.

“Chris. I…I’m… I’m”

“Shhhh. It’s okay. I know you’ve been stressed. What with the new position, the twins going to junior high and your cousin’s graduation and this trip.”

He kissed the top of your head.

“I see how exhausted you’ve been, falling asleep on the couch every night. That’s why I had hoped that you would take this opportunity to relax…”

“Chris. I’m pregnant.”

Chris didn’t believe he’d heard you. Your last pregnancy was over five years ago. He’d gone ten toes down for his perfect little family. And he didn’t know if he could go through that loss again. He knew you couldn’t.

Chris drew back to look you in the eye.

“What did you say?”

You looked into the deep blue pools of his eyes and took a deep breath.

“I’m pregnant.”

“But… how?”

You couldn’t help but laugh at him. He joined you.

“I mean…”

He grinned at you, your laughter making him stronger.

“Well, you’ve always had that super soldier sperm. And it’s rare, but vasectomies can fail…”

Chris just blinked at you.

“Oh my god. We’re gonna have another baby. When?”

Chris was absolutely giddy.

“I haven’t been to the doctor, but maybe in about eight months? January?”

Chris was still in shock.

“Boy or girl? Twins or just one?”

“Yep!”

You both broke down in laughter. You were beginning to think you could do this.

A jolt of joy suddenly struck Chris. He couldn’t wallow in grief; this was another chance.

He picked you up and twirled you around.

“CHRIS! CHRIS! I’m gonna throw up!”

You were laughing, but also about to hurl.

“Oh shit. I’m sorry. I just. I love you so much. And I love us. And the twins. And this bundle of joy in here.”

Chris’s warm palm covered your belly, and you reached up to kiss him, for a moment, all fear of loss gone.

He beamed down at you and you up at him.

“I love you too, Chris.”

You smiled at him again, and then hugged him.

“How are you? Are you okay?”

“Yes, I’m fine!”

Chris looked back down the beach.

“It’s too far for you to walk back.”

“No, I’m…”

He turned around and bent down. He looked back at you over his shoulder.

“Get on.”

“Chris, you’re being…”

“Get on, Y/N.”

You sighed and climbed on his back. Chris easily stood up and set off toward the beach house. You put your chin in his shoulder and started to think as he effortlessly carried you back.

“Chris…”

“I know. We’ll wait until we go to the doctor to tell anyone.”

You nodded, grateful for the connection between you and your husband. After you told Chris, you were able to relax and enjoy the rest of the trip.

Telling the twins after you were past the 12 week mark was an experience.

“You two are disgusting.”

“Wynn Angel Evans! You need to watch your tone.”

“I’m sorry. But aren’t you both a little old for this?

Chris wasn’t having it.

“Do you want to go to your room until you’re as old as we are?”

Wynn got quiet, not used to harsh words from her dad. CJ was just silent. You sensed some warring emotions in him. You two had always been close. He looked at you with those eyes just like his dad’s and you knew. You cocked your head and CJ came to give you a hug. You held your arm out for Wynn, who sat on the other side of you, between you and Chris.

“Listen. I know this is a lot. And you’re right, I am older, but I’m not that old. But dad is.”

You nudged Wynn and laughed as Chris protested.

“Hey!”

Now there was laughter in the room.

“And neither of you have to worry that you will be replaced. We will love you forever. Our hearts will just get bigger.”

You looked from twin to twin.

“Yours will, too.”

Everyone calmed down a bit after that, catching the joy of a new life in the house. You took a sabbatical from work in order to take care of yourself.

That was over six months ago. You’d had a healthy pregnancy and were excited to meet the new member of the Evans family. At Christmas you were 37 weeks. So close.

You snuggled back onto Chris’s erection as he gently felt up your sensitive breasts. Your nipples pebbled as he pressed his lips to the side of your neck.

“What are you up to, Daddy?”

You felt Chris’s dick jump against your backside.

“I’m trying to make you feel good. Give you an extra present after yesterday’s festivities.”

Chris’s hand moved down your side and slid under your belly to slip his thick fingers into your panties.

You moaned as he found you wet and wanton, moving against his hand for more friction.

Chris gently but down on your pulse point, causing you to keen.

“Chris…”

“What do you want, Angel? What do you need?”

Chris was grinding against your panties, the wet tip of his cock promising something that he had yet to give you.

“You, Chris, Please…”

“Oh My beautiful girl, you don’t need to beg. This is always for you.”

As he whispered praises in your ear, Chris was lifting your thigh, pulling your panties to the side, and slowly entering you while laying down

“Oooohhhh….”

You arched and threw your head back onto Chris’s chest. The shudder as he entered you was inescapable.

“Dammmmmnnnnn, Angel. So so tight.”

Chris was fully seated inside of you and gripping your hip to keep control.

Lovemaking wasn’t vigorous anymore, but it was needed. And you knew that It would be a while after the baby came. You wanted to savor this connection.

“Ohhhh. Chrissy. Please. Give it to me…”

“Nnnnnnnghhhh!”

Chris moaned.

“You always have me wanting to lose control. Lose myself in you… My favorite thing.”

“Hmmmmm.”

You licked your lips as Chris started moving, him looking down over your shoulder as he watched you cream on his dick in the early morning light.

“Even after all these years?”

The kiss he gave you on your cheek would have been chaste, except that his huge cock was invading your fat, swollen, sensitive cunt.

“For many more to come, god willing.”

Chris started pumping a little harder now.

“Please, I want to die like this..”

Chris kissed the side of your neck as he rocked his cock deep inside you and his words made your heart swell and beat in time with his, and you started to climax.

“Ohhhh…ohhhhhhh, ohhhhh! Chris!”

“God you’re squeezing me… I can’t. I can’t hold it damn you make me…”

Chris thrusted for dear life as he emptied his seed into you. He lazily thrummed your clit, causing you to shudder as you came down.

A few minutes later, Chris carefully slipped out of you and led you to the shower, where he lovingly washed you both up. Your eyelids were drooping.

“Get some rest, mama. I’ll get you some food.”

One hour later, your growling stomach and kicking kid propelled you out of bed to the kitchen, where you caught the tail end of an argument between Chris and Kit who had come to Massachusetts with your family for Christmas. Wynn and CJ were watching, enthralled.

Someone (you guessed Kit) had tried to make pancakes in the microwave. What resulted was a rubbery mess.

“You really can’t cook, can you?”

Chris was grumbling as he cleaned up the mess.

“No shit, Sherlock. When in the 13 years that you’ve known me, have you known me to cook?”

Chris scowled.

“Then why did you say yes when I asked you to make breakfast for your best friend?”

“Because I will do anything for her. And don’t you forget it, Dude Bro.”

Kit was threatening Chris with a rubber pancake.

“How ‘bout we go to Dunkin’?”

You chuckled as you rescued your husband from certain doom.

Less than 24 hours later, Jack Arthur Evans was born, healthy at 7 lbs 8 oz two days after Christmas.

The moment everyone met him, no one could imagine the world without him.

When in doubt, reblog it out!

[aceviscontiswife]

KEN YOU'RE MY DANNY JOHNSON QUEEN AND I MUST HAVE YOU WRITE ANGST FOR MY BOY .. but with comfort too .. im not that strong. CONSIDER THAT, danny and reader have kinda of an estabilished thing, but in a particular stressful trial day, danny doesn't want to talk to reader, he just wants the ol' killing spree, which makes him say some nasty stuff to reader when they try to approach, NOW, because of that, reader doesn't go meet him in the border again, and worse yet, they arent falling in any trials together, so hes like "WHAT DO I DO NOW?"

i know you're probably full of works now so please feel free to deny or take all the time you need with this request, you always come first! love ur blog ^_^

“I’m Sorry…” || Danny Johnson

Ahhhhh I had so much fun with this! I decided to write this mostly from Danny’s pov, and how he felt about the situation. So, just gonna say Danny is very much ooc, but it doesn’t matter because this was really sweet and Danny’s totally a softie under that mask.

GN! Reader, Warnings: None, angst with fluff at the end.

Well.. shit. Danny hadn’t meant to say that to you. You’re the first person in a very long time that Danny’s ever loved, so you should expect some mistakes…right? No. That wasn’t fair. Danny needed to apologize. Danny would never try to hurt you, and seeing you cry tears that he caused left him with a pain far worse than the entity’s punishments.

It all started because Danny was having some rough trials, and when you tried to comfort him he lashed out at you and said some terrible things. You never hurt him. In fact, you were trying to help him! Danny felt like such a fool. Here he was, a sadistic murderer, with such a perfect, innocent partner who loved him unconditionally—even if he was a killer.

“Hey, Danny… Are you alrigh-“ He never even let you finish your question before he shoved past you, not even bothering to face you as he yelled: “Don’t you have teammates to sandbag?! I don’t have time for this shit right now. You’re lucky I let you live.”

Danny didn’t even feel that guilty after he said it either. It wasn’t until he noticed you crying that he realized just what he had said. You helped your teammates whenever you could, it was Danny who wouldn’t chase or hook you. He wouldn’t even injure you. If a survivor dared to say anything bad about you, Danny had them dead within minutes. You must have felt so confused, so hurt when he snapped at you.

It wasn’t long after the trial that Danny found himself basically running to the survivor-killer border. If you were there, Danny would apologize so many times that he’d lose his voice. He’d even let you say whatever you wanted to him—though you probably wouldn’t say anything that Danny hasn’t already said to himself. If you weren’t there, he’d wait until a trial. Sure, Danny would suffer every second that he didn’t get to own up for what he said, but he felt like that was another punishment for his idiocy.

When Danny arrived at the border, he began calling out for you so frantically that if any of the other killers or survivors saw him they’d think he finally lost his mind. You weren’t at the border, and you never responded to any of Danny’s calls. Danny ripped his mask off in frustration and tossed it down onto the cold, hard ground. His eyes felt watery, and his lip quivered as he took in a shaky breath. Danny never cried, and he wasn’t going to now. This whole situation was his fault, and throwing a pity party would get him nowhere. So, hurling a few insults towards himself, Danny picks his mask up and slips it back on.

Each trial Danny had, he searched for you. You weren’t in a single one. For the first time in a long time, Danny was lost. What could he do if he couldn’t see you? He checked the border constantly, but each time you were never there. Danny was ready to ask random survivors about you, and if you were okay. That was his plan until his very next trial.

Danny’s eyes open, and he finds himself in snowy realm of Mount Ormond Resort. Immediately, Danny began to look for you. The image of you crying wouldn’t leave his head, and even when he did finally apologize, he’d still feel guilty for a while. No amount of sacrifices or murder-selfies can make Danny feel okay about what happened.

The first survivor he spotted was Meg, who was oblivious to Danny’s presence. Next he found Thalita and Adam, who had spotted Danny and ran. There was still no sign of you. Danny was hopeful this time, however. Ormond was your favorite realm, you loved the snow.

Danny had searched almost the entire map, and you were nowhere to be seen. He was now headed to the very corner of the map he had yet to check. Behind the mask, that constantly displayed the gaping mouth and eyes of a ghost, was a man who had never felt so nervous or afraid in his life. It was crazy how much you had changed him. Normally, Danny loved to make people cry. He loved to instill fear into people before ruthlessly killing them. But now, at least when it came to you, Danny couldn’t stand it.

As Danny approaches the edge of the realm, he can hear a generator being worked on. There was no way any of the survivors he’s already seen could get here in time to have the generator this far completed. So, with a deep breath, Danny turns the corner.

“Danny..?” It was you. Everything Danny had planned to say had been tossed out of the window as he threw his knife and mask to the ground and engulfed you in a tight hug. Despite how angry you wanted to be, you couldn’t help but melt into his arms and listen to him as he apologized over and over.

“I’m sorry… I’m so sorry, Y/n. I would never kill you. Ever. I’m so stupid for saying that and I-“ Danny pauses and takes in a shaky breath, burying his face in your neck. His voice now muffled, he continues, “You should be with someone who treats you better, who isn’t a fucking murderer.”

You nudge Danny off of you, taking his shaking hands in yours. You look up to meet his gaze, his eyes were glazed over, and despite how much he tried to hide it, you could tell he was close to tears. He felt horrible. A part of you had a feeling he would, since he practically melts whenever he’s around you, but seeing this side of Danny was still rare. He truly cared, and moments like these were when you knew. You could see the real Danny. The one who was terrified that you would never forgive him. The Danny who knew what he said was wrong, and is now doing whatever he can to make it right.

“Dan, while what you said was really asshole-ish of you, I’m not gonna hold a grudge for it. I never went to the border because every time I got close to it, the entity sent me back to the campfire. I can tell you really didn’t mean what you said. I don’t want anyone else, only you. I love you.”

Danny was speechless. You… forgive him? “Y/n, I promise I’ll never say anything like that to you ever again. I love you too, and I’m sorry I act like a dick all the time.” You chuckle, Danny’s brows scrunching as he stared at you with a confused look on his face.

“I said I forgive you, dummy. You sound like a broken record.” You joke, finally cracking a smile from Danny. “Seriously though, I couldn’t ask for anyone better than you, Danny Johnson.”

Danny doesn’t respond, instead, he cups your face in his gloved hands and kisses you. The kiss was passionate, and it painted Danny completely the opposite from how others perceived him. And, without even opening his mouth, Danny spoke to you through his actions. The hand cupping your face, the other hand threading through your hair… it told you everything:

“I love you too.”

*******

I enjoyed writing this so much!! Your requests mean so much to me, and they help me expand my writing and improve in ways I never thought I could. Love ya! ❤️

[cfr749]

I still dont understand how you went from Lucy supporter to this nonsense. She is again just a vehicle for the man pain and you are celebrating it. Disappointed and disgusted

Welcome back, anon! First off, thanks for sending two rude messages so I can respond to one and use the other to block you 👋

To be clear, the only reason I’m giving this the the time of day is because I think the “man pain” issue is worth addressing.

I’m always open to talking about this show and issues with misogyny, representation, race, etc. Even with people I don’t completely agree with.

What I’m not gonna do is discuss it with someone who can’t converse like a rational adult and finds joy in sending toxic, judgmental anonymous messages, so this little exchange of ours is over after this.

I am so sorry that my feelings about the show don’t line up exactly with what you want them to be. Sounds like you have some pretty strong feelings of your own though, so here’s an idea 💡 : post them on your own blog!

Shockingly, I’m capable of considering that there might be multiple perspectives on specific decisions the show makes. And that more than one of them can be valid at the same time!

I completely get how this could be viewed as growth for Tim at Lucy’s expense. I agree that sucks. I’ve posted multiple times that I will be LIVID if Lucy doesn’t actually end up with any type of storyline of her own or character development resulting from all the shit they put her through, and just ends up as a supporting character in another Tim-centric SL.

But, I can feel that way and also have other opinions all at the same time:

- I am glad they let Tim be the flawed human instead of the victim.

- I’m glad they didn’t villify Lucy in the breakup because god knows how quickly this fandom would tear her to pieces if she ever did to Tim what Tim just did to her.

- After years of Lucy doing barely anything on screen other than the odd UC op and propping up storylines for Tim and Chenford, I’m glad her character is 3-dimensional again both in the relationship and outside of it.

- I am heartbroken over the break up. I can’t watch the scene without bawling my eyes out. I feel nauseous thinking about it. But I am also glad they now have another chance to get it right this time for Chenford. Specifically because I love Lucy. Because I feel like she deserved so much better than what she got the first time.

- I’d love to see Tim value her and fight for her instead of just having her drop everything on a dime for him bc he deigned to look her direction after getting dumped by his girlfriend.

- I’d love to see him deal with all his unresolved baggage and realize what a complete and total idiot he is for throwing away what they had.

- And I’d love to see Lucy [continue to] recognize her own worth and thrive in the meantime. I am SO proud of who she’s been this season. And I hope she becomes even stronger and more sure of herself.

- I hope she recognizes she deserves so much better than what Tim gave her and that his decision has nothing to do with her worth (even if it feels like that at first), and I hope she *demands* better from him before even considering taking him back.

I’m not psychic. I don’t know what they have planned for the rest of the season (and no, I’m not gonna jump to conclusions off of a few vague interviews either). Maybe I’ll love it; maybe I’ll hate it. We’ll see.

Either way, I’m clear that’s it’s still just a TV show and that these are fictional characters. Are you?

[mads-weasley]

Epiphany Pt. 5: Breathe

Lewis Nixon x Reader

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

A/N: two posts within a few days?? what's this?? anyways, this is a short kind of filler, so i hope you enjoy! this is about the fictional portrayal of easy company on the show. nothing but love and respect for veterans on this blog!

Summary: People say that absence makes the heart grow fonder, and that is nothing but true after (y/n) and Lewis are separated in the aftermath of Market Garden.

Word Count: 1.9k

Warnings: mentions of wounds, straight fluff pining

OCTOBER, 1944: HOLLAND

For Lewis Nixon, the remainder of September had passed in a haze of numbness, and before he knew it, the calendar had turned to the first week of October. The once-warm Dutch air had seemingly overnight transformed into a chilling autumn breeze. On that crisp October day, he found himself in the Battalion CP, meticulously going over recovered German intelligence alongside Colonel Strayer. 

Amidst their focus, a knock echoed through the small office, momentarily breaking the officer’s concentration. Colonel Strayer, engrossed in his reports, responded without looking up, “Come in.”

The door creaked open, and Vest stuck his head inside, offering a brief salute to the ranking officers before holding something out for Nix. “Cap’n, I have a letter here for ya.”

His heart leaped in his chest as he accepted the letter, instantly recognizing the familiar handwriting on the envelope. It was (y/n)’s handwriting.

Three long weeks had passed since she had been evacuated to the field hospital, and if he were honest with himself, he didn’t know how much longer he could endure her absence. The void left by her departure was suffocating, and he felt as if he couldn’t breathe without her by his side. The mere sight of her handwriting brought a mix of emotions – hope, longing, and a sense of connection he had sorely missed, regardless of how they left things.

Sensing the importance of the letter, Strayer dismissed Nix with a friendly slap on the shoulder. “That’s enough for now, Captain. You’re dismissed.”

Rising to his feet, Lew quickly saluted his superior and stepped out of the CP, the chill of the autumn wind hitting him as he found a quiet corner to read the letter. His anticipation was palpable as he carefully tore open the envelope. 

As he read (y/n)’s words, he felt a rush of emotions that seemed to fill the void her absence had left behind. Her words were like a lifeline, connecting him to the woman he missed so dearly. 

September 29th, 1944

Lew,

How have you been? I hope you’ve not given Dick too much trouble yet. We both know how mischievous you can get without me there to supervise you. I miss you and the men dearly. 

The hospital is filled to the brim with injured men from Market Garden. Was it really as bad as everyone's said? Apparently, the British took more casualties than us. 

As far as my recovery goes, I’m feeling better by the day. It still hurts to breathe, and it’s also hard to walk without my stitches pulling painfully, but I’m gonna break out of this prison and come back to easy as soon as I can. This place is driving me crazy, Nix. Thankfully, the doctors said I should be out of here within the next few weeks. But will I wait that long? We’ll see. 

On another note, I didn’t get to properly apologize for the way I treated you before. Sure, I did say I was sorry, but we also thought I could die, so it felt a little rushed. So, I’m sorry for getting upset with you about Eindhoven. I know you were just trying to protect me. I hope you can forgive me. 

I’ve got to go on my daily walk around the hospital, so I’ve got one thing left to say…please don’t drink yourself away. If I hear one peep about you being drunk on duty, I will not hesitate to write Dick and ask him to throw out your stash. Just because I’m stuck here doesn’t mean you can stop taking care of yourself. 

Please stay safe,

(Y/n) (y/l/n)

Lew lowered the letter with a gentle sigh, a warmth spreading through him. She was recovering well, and that was the best news he could hope for. A soft smile played on his lips as he reread her words. In his mind, he could hear every sentence in her voice.

“If I hear one peep about you being drunk on duty, I…” he muttered to himself, chuckling at her playful threat. Even while confined to a hospital bed, she still was trying to take care of him.

“That from her?” A voice asked.

Nix looked up with a smile to see Dick approaching. “Yeah.”

"How is she?"

“Good,” he chuckled. “She threatened to get you to pour out all my whiskey if it became a problem.”

Dick shook his head with a grin. “I would do it, you know.”

“Oh, I know you would,” Lew replied, raising his eyebrows.

Silence settled between them, both men lost in their thoughts. 

“How are you doing?” Dick asked. “I know we haven’t been able to talk much with everything going on.”

Nixon grabbed his flask from his pocket and took a sip. “I’m alright. I miss her like crazy, though. It’s like…I don’t know, Dick. I think I’m in love with her.

The ginger’s eyes widened, locking onto Lew’s face, which bore a boyish smile. ”I’m glad you’re finally admitting it.”

“Now what do I do?” Nix chuckled bitterly. “We’re in the middle of a warzone and I’ve gone and fallen in love. They should put that on the recruitment posters, huh?”

Dick sighed, scanning their surroundings. “When she gets back you tell her.”

Lewis furrowed his eyebrows. “What if she doesn’t feel the same way?”

“Everyone can see that she does, Nix. Trust me.”

A faint smirk tugged at Nix’s lips. “You know, Dick,” he remarked. “You’re not as bad as they say.”

Dick rolled his eyes and checked his watch. “I’ve got a meeting with Sink about our Market Garden casualties.”

“I’m glad I don’t have to be a part of that.”

Dick started to walk away but stopped and turned back to Nix. “Lew, be careful. You know there are rules, and the last thing I want to see is one or both of you getting in trouble.”

Nixon nodded. “Well, nothing’s happened yet, but I know. I will.”

With that, Dick walked around the corner, leaving Lewis alone with his thoughts. He took another gulp from his flask, the warmth spreading through him. Dick didn’t have to know every detail about his drinking habits.

Once (y/n) got back, though, he decided that he was going to reign it in. But until then, he reasoned, he could continue with whatever he needed to cope with the emptiness that had settled in his heart during her absence.

OCTOBER 31, 1944: AMERICAN 24TH EVAC HOSPITAL

(Y/n) lay in her uncomfortable cot, staring up at the blank ceiling as she had done for the last month. Although the nurses tried to give her some privacy by hanging sheets around her bed in the corner, it did little to block the sounds of snoring coming from Webster beside her. 

She shifted, trying to find a more comfortable position, but her side still ached from the wound. The pain was a constant reminder of their failed mission, and she longed to be back with Easy Company. The inactivity gnawed at her and the hospital walls felt like a prison.

The room was dimly lit by a flickering lamp, casting shadows across the walls. The war had taken a toll on everyone, physically and emotionally, so it wasn’t unusual to wake up to the horrifying sound of screams echoing through the halls. When the lights went out, it was the time when the hospital’s occupants became the most lonely. 

She missed the camaraderie, the shared laughter, and even the adrenaline-fueled moments of combat with her friends. But most of all, she missed him.

As she lay there, she couldn’t help but wonder how Lew was doing. His absence was keenly felt, and she longed for his familiar presence and snarky attitude. She knew he had his demons and struggles, but they all did. The war had a way of shaping and breaking people in unpredictable ways. 

A sudden noise from outside the room startled her, and she strained her ears to listen. The distant rumble of a jeep and the murmur of voices reached her. She imagined Lew out there in the field with Dick, and it brought her a sense of comfort to think of the duo out there doing what they did best, and that they were watching each other’s backs. With that thought in mind, she closed her eyes and tried to push aside the pain, allowing herself to drift into a restless sleep.

The small squeak of boots on the tile floors awoke the (y/h/c) with a startle. Her breathing quickened as she sat up slowly and pulled back the curtain, revealing someone with a familiar screeching eagle and medic patch a few feet away.

“Gene?” She whispered, face contorted in confusion.

The Cajun turned quickly and smiled distantly as he recognized her. “(Y/l/n). How are ya’ doin’, cherie?”

She took a moment to glance at his blood-smeared ODs, realizing what had brought him to the hospital at such a late hour must have been bad, so she didn’t question him about it. 

“I’m ready to bust out of here.”

He sighed, a knowing grin painting his lips. “Are you healed up enough to bust out?”

“Yes,” (y/n) nodded enthusiastically. “Doc said any day now.”

Gene raised an eyebrow, approaching her cautiously. “Let me see. If I think it’s healed well enough, I’ll take you back with me tonight. If not, you’ve gotta stay, alright?”

Her heart skipped a beat at the thought of reuniting with Easy. “Wait. Seriously? Just like that?”

“Yeah,” he nodded. “Just like that.”

Suppressing a wince, she carefully laid down on her back and pulled up her shirt, revealing the thick white bandage that was wrapped around her side. Gene, ever the respectful young man, looked up at her for confirmation before he began unwrapping it.

As Roe carefully unwrapped the bandage, (y/n)’s healing wound was revealed. The site of the injury was marked by bruised, discolored skin, and a well-defined entry point where the bullet had torn into her body. 

Gene leaned in, his eyes focused and gentle as his hands hovered over the wound. He was meticulous and caring in his inspection. His fingers probed around the entry point with a practiced tenderness, gauging the healing process and the neatness of the stitches. He checked for any signs of infection, monitoring the redness and warmth around the stitched area. His eyes scanned for swelling or abnormal discharge, all signs that would indicate the need for further care. 

(Y/n) winced slightly as he pushed on a sensitive area where the stitches were pulling on her skin, and Gene immediately eased his touch, offering her a reassuring smile.

“Cap’n Nixon will be glad,” he smirked, wrapping up the wound.

(Y/n)’s eyes lit up. “Is that a yes?”

“Yes ma’am. It looks good. I’ll just tell the officers to put you on light duty until you’re a hundred percent.”

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” She whispered, excitement brimming in her voice as tears threatened to fill her eyes.

Gene smiled warmly. “You’re welcome, cherie. Everyone’ll be glad to have you back.”

As Roe left to inform the necessary people, (y/n) settled back on her cot, a surge of relief and happiness coursing through her. She was going back to Easy, and she couldn’t wait to reunite with her comrades, especially a certain intelligence officer whose absence had left a void that was now going to be filled.

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[devouredbyflame]

Good morning! It’s Ari, again.

I might drop by to DM sometime, but since I’m about to work, I didn’t want to be rude and just DM/start a conversation to throw questions at you and run off lol I’d rather DM to get to know someone if that makes sense. I thought it might be more appropriate to drop little questions here if any really drive me nuts while I’m reading your blog in the meantime.

If I ever ask anything you don’t want to share, feel free to say so! I’m trying to understand what I’ve read you say about finding your path yourself and avoiding echo chambers when you should be learning from the Divine, so I’m gonna try to limit my questions, but between my having ADHD, anxiety, and just generally being kind of detail-oriented, I still find myself fixated on specific details a lot

So with that ramble out of the way (sorry, I’m kinda long-winded, I’m sure you noticed in my email lol) my actual question(s) for today!:

(I see how long this got, so for a summary, this jumble of questions is about the likenesses of Deities you mention putting on altars)

In your first post about altar creation, I saw you say one of the things you need is a likeness of the Deity you’re making it for. It might be a silly question, but what really counts as a “likeness”? Is it just anything made with the intention of being His likeness? Or are we supposed to make an intuitive guess? I could see maybe going by personal UPG, but assuming we’re just starting out and not confident in anything like that, trying to make the altar to connect in the first place, I’m wondering how we know what we’re looking for.

Since I’m not able to practice openly at home, but my family knows I was a bigger fan of Hiddleston Loki than the MCU itself, I was thinking of finding a good/affordable figure of MCU Loki. So if the owner of the household rifles through my things, as she’s prone to do, and she finds a candle, a marvel figure and a couple of (to her) random things in a box, she’s more likely to think it’s just a box of knickknacks. But I’m afraid this will be seen as some kind of joke, I don’t want to be too familiar, in case I’ve been wrong about my connecting to Him so far.

Final thought- do Deities even really have human-looking appearances? I see Loki appearing differently to different people, especially as a shapeshifter, but is it really a thing that any of Them look a certain way? Like I’ve read you talk about meeting Him face-to-face when He has possessed people in front of you, and how He’s your roommate/in-and-out-of-your-body way of being with you now. But is there a way you “see” Him? And is that a way He’s appeared to you, in a dream or meditation or something, or is it just kinda a creative idea of how He looks?

Sorry for the length, and any errors! I’d stop to edit it down and fix run-on sentences, but I’m already kinda late starting work (oops). So I hope you have a good day! Hopefully I’ll have time to actually chat this weekend, if you’re open to that!

Hi Ari! You're totally fine. I love answering questions so give me what you got and I can do my best to further clarify for you. And also, I am ADHD so I 100% understand the need for detail-oriented clarification. My numerous questions is how I got to where I am today because I would ask Loki so many things about how stuff works so I can better grasp the nature of the concept. I am more than delighted to share what I've learned, how it works, and why it's been successful and that's kind of the point of my being here.

My answers are also really long-winded and mostly because I have a lot of knowledge and experiences and very few places to share it so bear with me.

So, in regards to the likeness question, I would say anything that is made with the intention of it being the Deity in question would be the best point of reference. However, it doesn't necessarily mean it has to be an obvious representation, just something that is synonymous with Their energy. Like, if you had a candle vaguely in the shape of the Deity in question or a clay model, a doll, or a picture that reminds you of Them, that also works. The purpose is to draw the energy of that particular Deity into the shrine which means you would need to "open the door" to both sides. Like, the Deity would need to know it is for Them as well as you so you can look at it and go, "ah, yes, that is the God in question." You would think They wouldn't care because They know your heart and your intention, but it is easiest when the object is designed with the God in mind.

That being said, I personally had MCU Loki on my altar for a year or two when I first began, knowing Loki probably was aware of my situation and that I needed to be closeted until I had my own place to live. I don't think it would necessarily be a problem if you have Tom Hiddleston instead of Loki Himself. When I got my own place, I got Him a statue carved out of wood and quite a bit of art by various artists I've found who I think draw Him really well.

The whole debate about whether or not Loki cares for MCU Loki itself is complex and I can possibly get into that in more detail if anyone is ever interested. But based on my experiences with Him, He has indicated that no, He doesn't really care for it to be on your shrine. It's fine if that's what you need to be conspicuous. He only really seems to care if you don't ask Him if it's okay. The point, I think, He wants to make is that by asking Him His opinion, He will make it okay because you gave Him your reasoning and didn't just assume. Which makes sense considering a shrine is a Deity's possession and not a devotee's after the point of making it a shrine. So, as long as you're asking His permission to use it on His shrine, I think that's absolutely clear with Him.

I cannot speak for Him, but I sincerely doubt He would ever wish to put you in the way of any danger when it comes to His shrine being made. However, I know Him to be very possessive of His belongings and prefers giving His consent with certain things. If you invite Him when creating a shrine, He will more than likely give you a sense of what you need to be doing for Him and whether or not it's okay. If you don't trust that, using a pendulum, flipping a coin, or other "yes/no" random generators are helpful. I wouldn't worry too much that you are afraid of insulting Him just because you don't have an option.

Just don't ask Him multiple times the same question because that's when He starts giving false answers. It can get aggravating but typically He doesn't like having only one-sided answers and would prefer to say both "yes" and "no" because He tends to swing both ways when talking about the nature of Himself as well as the Gods since it's never only ever just one single way.

I think He does mind Tom Hiddleston being used as His likeness if you have no reason to hide your shrine and if you don't ask His permission to so so He may say "no" but then "yes" later on given His consent and an explanation of your reasoning.

Now, I don't know your situation, obviously, and there's no reason for you to get into more detail about it to some random stranger on the internet but I will point out that having a shrine is a lot less obvious than you would think. People won't know what they are looking at if they are not pagan. I kept my shrine on my desk for the years I was closeted and my ex who was an atheist as well as my Christian parents did not know what they were looking at unless I specifically told them what it was. Even then, they were confused. I think unless the people you live with know what a pagan is or what a shrine should be, you likely are going to be fine even if they go through your belongings.

I recommend keeping it in a shoe box somewhere or an even smaller box that's tucked away somewhere no one will get to it even if they are looking. It's probably for the best regardless because it would keep other energy from getting to it that would be less than savory and could interrupt the energetic transaction between Loki and yourself.

Also, in regards to appearances, no, Loki does not have a physical appearance whatsoever. He is energy and energy does not have a form that we can see clearly with our two eyes. He likes to call Himself an "orb of light" and that He "floats around all day and does not do much of anything on this physical plane except wait around for stuff to happen."

I have seen Him manifest physically before but it is not human-like nor is it remotely something that is a common occurrence. It looks like glimmers of golden light that shines in the corner of my eye and flashes before it can ever be seen fully. My cats see Him all the time, actually, and watch as He zooms around the apartment and plays with them since cats have a keener sense of vision than we do.

So, no, He does not have any actual human-like qualities. However, it is my understanding that the way we perceive Him is translated by various triggers in our brain. Just like how we visualize a person as they are described that we haven't seen before, Loki essentially has a means to assist people with seeing Him who may have trouble recognizing who He is so He gives a common appearance. He's explained to me that when it's important for someone to know who they are looking at, He will appear to them as a lanky ginger with long red hair, golden eyes and pointed ears. But if it's not, then He can show up as anyone He wants to in any way.

So I suppose it's both the way He wants to be seen and also our own brains piecing together visuals that He triggers and we conceptualize as vaguely human but very obviously not given the amount of energy that resonates off of Him. So it's both intentional that He looks the same way to a lot of people while also being intentional when He doesn't. Regardless of where, how, and why He manifests, though, He feels the exact same way all the time and you'll know who He is just by being in His presence. So, I suppose, also, it doesn't truly matter about what He looks like on your shrine.

I hope that answers your questions (probably more info than you ever asked for) but I'm always open to clarifying things here and otherwise and that goes with anyone who stumbles on my blog. That's why I'm here. Also, yes, please DM whenever you want! I love meeting people. It's my favorite. Talking about this shit is my jam.

[ur-urmom]

I just read your first work for Carlisle and I absolutely loved it!!! 😭❤️👌🏽 Maybe... could you write a second part? It's okay if you don't though!! I can't wait to read more of your works and I feel honoured to have found your blog! ❤️❤️❤️

ahhhh you’re so sweet thank you!! I am so glad to hear you liked it! I’m more than happy to write a second part, the first part is my most liked fic so it’s only right :D

I also did not know that Carlisle’s physical age is 23, but for the sake of this story we’ll say his physical age is like 30 or something 😭

——————

Okay, That Hurt - Pt. 2 - Carlisle x Reader

(Part 1)

Genre - cute fluff stuff, possibly implied spice (not smut)

Warnings - cussing, age gap, implied spicy time

Summary - after the little accident with the demonic stairs, it’s about time Y/N get their cast off. However, that means the same certain doctor will be there to help with that, and he’s determined to see Y/N again, but this time somewhere outside of the hospital without a broken bone or any other injury.

Today is the day, people! Today is the day!

Not only do I finally get my cast off on this fine afternoon, but I get to see Dr. Carlisle Cullen once more. Oh, how my heart has been swooning over him since I left the hospital that first time! Sure it was only about a month and a half ago, but damn have I been utterly tempted to just ‘accidentally’ fracture my ankle, or maybe slip on those same demonic stairs again… definitely not on purpose though.

I feel like a high school student again, one that has a stupid, innocent crush on their teacher that they know nothing will ever come out of it. But, still, it’s fun to remember how a little infatuation feels.

It’s been too long since I’ve had someone — well, someone who’s actually real and not fictional — make me all giddy and giggly and shit. I think about him and start twirling my hair, kicking my feet, and biting my lip with a turn of excitement in the pit of my belly.

Do I know that nothing is gonna happen? Yes. Yes I do.

Am I still gonna pretend like that man is gonna be my future husband? Yes. Yes I am.

I was putting on my shoes when I took a quick look at the time. It was one o’clock. I still had another hour before I needed to be at the hospital. I wanted to try and pass the time so I wouldn’t be on the verge of throwing up from how nervous I was from seeing Dr. Cullen again. It’s all fun and games until you actually have to be next to the object of your affection in person.

“Let’s go bother Bella.” I whispered to myself while I got up from my seat and began putting on my coat by the entrance. Turning the knob, I walked out and closed the door behind me. I glanced at the cars in her driveway. Her truck was there, but another car that I didn’t recognize was too. “Edward.” I finally decided that’s who it was. It couldn’t be Charlie, he was at work.

I did end up meeting Edward a while ago, he’s a good guy, maybe a tad bit eccentric, but Bella really likes him so I guess I do as well.

I really like his dad, that’s for sure.

Making my way to the steps, I came to an abrupt stop as I remembered my previous accident with them. Inspecting the stairs for any unseen slippery ice, I had come to the conclusion that it should be safe.

“Yeah… fuck you.” I flipped off the step in particular that had tried to kill me. My feet made contact with the ground, and I let out a small breath of relief that I didn’t even know I was holding. Crossing my yard into Bella’s, I went to her front door and knocked with my good arm a couple of times. I waited a few with no answer, so I decided to repeat my actions. On my third knock, the door opened and Bella stood in front of me. I gave her a smile and a wave, and my eyes glanced past her to Edward. I saw that his hair was kind of a mess, and when I looked back at Bella, I noticed her shirt’s top buttons were undone.

My eyebrows raised a little, and my mouth formed an O shape before I started giggling like a little kid.

“I’m sorry, am I interrupting something?” My smile only grew bigger.

Bella’s eyes looked everywhere but me, her hand running through her hair and she kept it on the back of her head as she stuttered out, “N-no, no not at all. Come in.” She bit her lip as she stepped to the side for me to walk through.

I did, looking at Edward and the tiny grin on his features.

“You might have interrupted a little something.” He spoke, his gaze not leaving his flustered girlfriend, to which she gave him a very noticeable glare, almost as if telling him to shut up with her eyes.

��Aw darn it, my bad guys!” I apologized again. “I just wanted to pop in and say hello before I went to my appointment to get this son of a bitch off.” Pointing to my cast, I kept talking. “But I promise I’ll leave soon so you two can get back to your foreplay.”

My words only made Bella even more shy, but I did get a chuckle from Edward before he spoke up.

“Oh yeah, my dad can’t wait to see how it’s healed.”

All jokes about the happy couple immediately left my mind as images of Carlisle replaced them. I felt my face heat up at the thought of him somehow looking forward to our — professional — meeting today.

“Ah… what, he’s asked about me?” I tried to play off my butterflies.

“Every time Bella comes over.”

I looked at her, and she was nodding her head in agreement with her hands in her pant’s front pockets.

“…Which is all the time.” Edward finished.

I lightly coughed, trailing my finger along a dusted item to do anything with my hands except fiddle with them.

“Hm, good to know he cares about his patients.” I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from grinning ear to ear. “Makes me feel more comfortable in his care.”

“I don’t think it’s just that.” The pale boy voiced.

“Yeah, like… you’re the only patient he’s asked about so frequently like this… or ever.” Bella awkwardly stated.

I blinked.

“C’mon guys, it’s only because you two know me. He’s only being courteous, yeah?”

“No, I don’t think so.” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I mean, do you know how many times Mike has hurt himself? We know him and Carlisle never asks about his injuries.”

“…Maybe he’s not very fond of Mike?” I was more so asking myself that in order to keep my composure. Sure, the idea of Carlisle actually being interested in me is absolutely exhilarating… however it’s quite terrifying in reality.

An older man who is the town’s favorite doctor and has kids that are very close to the age of my own? Given they’re adopted, but still.

How would society — the community — react to that?

Innocent flirting is always fun, but when there’s actual intentions behind it? I might need to rethink my feelings.

When neither of them answered, I took that as my sign to go ahead and get to the hospital and have this over with as quickly as I can.

“Alright, well, I’ve gotta get going, but I’ll let you guys know how it goes and what the verdict is.” I smiled. I gave Bella a small hug and waved bye to Edward before I saw myself out.

The chilly air hit my face like a brick, and I took a deep breath as I rubbed my hands together in an attempt to get them warm. I had grabbed my keys before I went next door, so I just walked to my car and got in. Starting it, I kept thinking about what they said about Carlisle. Needless to say, I’m about a hundred times more anxious than I was before, but I’m just gonna blame the coffee I had earlier for the upset stomach I was beginning to get.

My mind was racing as I drove to the hospital. I’m not gonna lie, I was driving like five miles below the speed limit. I was gonna be a little early anyway, so it’s okay. The fact that I was so excited to see his angelic face again when I thought there was no chance he would like me, but now that I know there might be a possible chance that he does I am dreading this interaction.

I can’t get too hopeful. Maybe he really is just a caring doctor who just so happens to be asking about me a lot more than his other patients. Yeah, that’s it.

When I pulled into the parking lot, I must have sat there for a good three minutes before finally getting out.

“Okie dokie. Let’s get this thing off… that’s what I’m here for… nothing else.”

I stepped inside and made my way to the front desk to a woman sitting behind the counter.

“Uh, hi! I have an appointment with Dr. Cullen for removing my cast.”

“Name please.” The woman didn’t even look at me.

“…Y/N L/N.”

“Have a seat and someone will call you to the back when it’s time.” Not even a glance my way.

“Um. Okay.”

I did as told and sat in one of the chairs, ignoring the fact that the lady could’ve been a little nicer or something, she could’ve at least made eye contact with me… but no need to dwell on that. If people wanna be negative there’s nothing I can do about it.

I heard the doors to the back open, and when I looked up I saw a nurse come out.

“L/N?”

Shit shit shit shit.

“Yup!” I got up.

“How are you today?” She asked, a smile on her face. Much different from the woman at the front.

“I’m good! I’ll be a lot better once this thing is off.”

“Oh, I bet! You’ll be walking out of here with a brand new arm!” She laughed. I followed her to the back and she had me sit down on the edge of one of the beds. “Alright, well Dr. Cullen will be with you in a moment.” And with that she was on her way.

All I could do is wait in anticipation now.

It’ll be a quick process, there’s nothing to worry about. Hell, maybe I’ll even throw in another wink when I leave like the last time.

Honestly? Maybe I’ll shoot my shot! There’s nothing to lose, and the age gap isn’t even that big…

I don’t think, anyway.

The curtain to my section was pulled shut, so when the light sound of footsteps could be heard getting closer to me I couldn’t help but adjust how I was sitting. I straightened my posture and fixed my hair even though it didn’t need fixing. I was expecting the curtain to open and Carlisle in all of his glory to step in with his pearly whites showing and that glint in his eyes, but when the footsteps got close enough to enter, they turned a corner and faded out.

I slouched back down in disappointment and relief. That was until the curtains suddenly got pulled back at the speed of fucking light. I jumped up, startled and a small gasp escaping my lips.

And of fucking course it was the one and only Carlisle Cullen.

“Fucking hell, fuck me— god damn you scared me!” I muttered the first part, my heart pounding and my blood rushing. He let out a hearty laugh, closing the hanging fabric again.

“Sure, if you’d like.” The words absentmindedly left his mouth. I was confused at first, until I had realized what he was replying to. The blood that was rushing from a sudden fright was now rushing due to his flustering response. He turned around to face me now, and he was just as gorgeous if not more than the last time I saw him. “How have you been?”

"Oh... um, I've been okay! Getting by as well as I can with this stupid thing." I said, lifting up the wrist I idiotically broke. "Hopefully the doc has some good news for me though."

"The doc is about to have a look..." Carlisle's features changed from amusement to concentration as his gaze traveled across my face, making his way down to what I thought would be my cast, but his attention passed my injury and kept lowering... and lowering... until he finally started to go upwards again.

Is it just me or is it getting hot in here? I felt the heat rise to my chest, neck, ears, literally everywhere as his eyes scaled my entire being. It felt like he was checking me out, not looking me over. Either way, it's getting a little hard to breathe.

"You look great... healthy."

Yeah, obviously. I only had a small concussion, a few scrapes on my arm, and this dumb ass fragile bone that snapped.

He has to be doing this on purpose.

"Thank y—...ou." My breathing completed haltered, my words coming to a stop followed by an embarrassing linger when his hand gently grasped my jaw, his thumb on my chin as he tilted my head side to side.

His touch was still as cold as I remembered, a strange yet comforting feeling.

Just as I thought he was done, his free hand found my forehead, his fingers brushing away the hair that rested there and his face getting closer to mine... to get a better look I'd assume.

I could feel his breath on my cheek, and I was wondering if he could hear how fast my heart was beating. When he finally backed away, a tiny cough that I couldn't hold escaped. God, I hope he doesn't ask why my face is so red, because the way I was feeling right now It couldn't be anything but.

His gaze held my own for a few seconds before he spoke.

"Well, it looks like your concussion is gone."

…Yeah, I figured.

"Now, let's get this ugly bastard off shall we?" Carlisle pulled up the rolling seat right in front of me and a cart with everything he needed was sat beside us in his reach. Without warning, he took ahold of my covered arm and adjusted it to his liking, propping it on the empty space on the top of the cart. He grabbed the saw tool that looked like it was meant to be a torture weapon in a horror movie and held it up. Looking at me with a sweet smile, he said, "Don't worry, the worst you'll feel is a tickle."

I nodded to tell him I understood, and he turned it on. He started cutting, and he was definitely right. I couldn't help the small giggles leaving my lips as the vibrations from the cast saw tickled my entire arm. Dr. Cullen grinned at my laughs, still concentrating on removing the plaster. Once he was done, he slowly removed it. I saw the inside and immediately cringed.

"That is so gross..." I muttered.

"I've seen worse." Carlisle stated. "Trust me... you've done pretty good taking care of it!" His cold touch gently held my wrist up and he started moving it. It felt weird, I knew it was just because I hadn't moved it in a while, but at least there was no pain. "There we go, back to normal!"

I slowly took over, and after inspecting it I had come to the conclusion that everything was fine.

"Yeah... I guess you're right." I jokingly tried to question his experience.

"You guess? I have a degree."

"Oh do you?"

It was silent for a few seconds, our eyes never breaking contact before the two of us broke out into a fit of laughs and chuckles. Our excitement died down, and I jumped up now that it was over with.

"Thank you, Carlisle! I'll try not to break any more bones for you." I grinned at him. He mimicked my features. Sadly, I was about to wish him a farewell, that is until he spoke before I got the chance to.

"There's something else you could do for me too, if you don't mind."

My brows raised just the slightest bit in curiosity.

"What's that?" I asked, expecting him to tell me to wrap myself in bubble wrap, or tell Bella he says hi, but both of those guesses were farther than far off.

"Go out with me?... Tonight?"

Oh, wow.

"I get off in a few hours, I'll pick you up. 6:30?" He continued, a hopeful glint in those beautiful fucking eyes of his.

"Um..." I started. My mind was jolting forward to things people might say, how they would view this, what would actually come out of this. So many things that I didn't need to worry about kept jumbling around in my head. But that's what they were, things I didn't need to worry about. "Yeah. Yeah!" My hesitancy dissipating as I realized the opportunity I had here. "Let me give you my address." I was beaming.

Carlisle's face lit up even more than mine. "No need! I know where Bella lives, so I know where you live."

Oh yeah, forgot about that.

I bit my lip in a silly attempt to stop smiling any wider than I already was before he had to stitch my mouth back to normal.

"Perfect!... I'll see you at 6:30, doc." I giddily waved goodbye as I exited the curtained room. I didn't give him a chance to say anything else, mainly because if I stayed there any longer I thought I would drop dead from excitement, anxiety, and how hot he was. At least there would have been a doctor in the room.

I guess Bella and Edward were right to think he might have liked me as more than a patient, but now I have to figure out what the heck I’m gonna wear tonight.

When I left the hospital and got inside of my car, I let out an ecstatic scream. As soon as I get home I have to tell Bella, and I was hoping Edward would be gone by now. I think it would be a little awkward having me excitedly ramble on about how Carlisle and I are going on a date when his son would be in the same room listening to how his dad asked me out.

Adoptive dad, but like I said, still.

Leaving the parking lot, I practically floored it back to the house. As I was pulling into my drive, I noticed both of the cars that were in front of Bella’s place were gone.

“They both left? In separate cars?” I was confused as hell, but who am I to question these things. Edward was a strange man… and so was his family, but I’m literally going on a date with his father so I can’t say anything. Maybe I can pinpoint just what makes them so… well, unique, tonight.

Before I got out of the vehicle, I looked at the time. A little after three. Okay, I have a bit over three hours to get ready, that’s plenty of time. Though, I do need to be ready earlier just in case, so maybe I have about two hours and a half.

I rushed inside of the house, slamming the door shut behind me and speed walking my way to the bathroom while simultaneously taking off pieces of my clothing so I could take a shower now that my cast was off. I tossed them on the floor as I went along, I'll pick them up later.

What if he wants to come inside afterwards... or before? I also have to clean and make sure everything looks nice in here too, because that is a possibility.

Oh god... what if...

What if he wants to come inside, if you catch my drift.

Whatever, we'll cross that bridge when we get there.

If we get there.

Once again, my mind was going over a billion scenarios that could happen tonight. I definitely wasn't doing any favors by easing my anxiety.

Before I knew it, time flew by and the last thing I needed to do was pick an outfit. I had straightened up my place enough to where it would look good but not like I was doing too much. My hair was nice, and I touched up any blemishes that might could be seen. Now, the wow factor. The clothes.

I needed to figure out whether I was going for more casual, fancy, comfy, or something else. I could do a mixture? I'm not sure what to expect from this, where we're going and all of that.

That's why I settled for something casual, but a nice casual, so it would be alright for any occasion that wasn't the red carpet or an award winning program.

By the time I got done, it was seventeen minutes before 6:30. To say I was nervous was an understatement, but I was excited too. I was practically walking around in circles pacing all over the place waiting for a knock on the door or the bell to ring. I didn't wanna sit down because I would could wrinkle my outfit, and the moment I sat down would probably be the moment he arrived. I walked to the kitchen and fixed myself a glass of ice water to help ease my nerves. The chill ran down my throat to my spine, and I let out deep breathe through my nose. I stared at the rim of the glass and the ice floating around in the water before taking another sip.

When I did that, the sound of a few thumps from the door came and I jumped. The water I was swallowing in the process shifted the wrong way, and I was met with a fit of coughs from the sudden startle. I was trying to hold them in, and I took another quick sip to chase it.

I'm just glad Carlisle didn't have some kind super hearing to understand what just happened to me from across the threshold, how embarrassing would that be if he heard?

I jogged to the door and stood there for a few seconds to regain any composure I had lost. With a little pat on the back, I opened it.

Carlisle stood on the other side with a smile on his face and one hand behind his back. I hadn't seen him in anything but his scrubs and coat before, so when I saw him dressed in a button down and slacks I couldn't help but stare.

"You look good too." He spoke, breaking me from my trance.

"Oh, gosh, I'm sorry! I didn't mean to-"

"No need to apologize! Why wouldn't I want to get ogled by someone as beautiful as you?" He pulled his hand out from behind his back to reveal a spectacular bouquet of flowers. "They reminded me of you." He handed them to me with my mouth dropped in surprise.

Talk about old fashioned romance. I'm drooling for this man.

I sniffed them, and of course they smelled absolutely delightful.

"Thank you, Carlisle! They're gorgeous!" I beamed, trying to identify what kind each flower was since it was an assorted bouquet. He pointed to one that was drooping, the only one that was drooping for a matter of fact.

"I got this one specifically, because it had the stooping flower. I thought it could represent your broken wrist."

That drew out a hearty chortle from me.

"I love them, thank you!" I went back inside and left the door open to put these in a vase before we left. "You're welcome to come inside if you'd like, but I'll just be a jiffy!"

He decided to wait right there as I continued to situate the flowers. When I was done, I put them on the kitchen table and hurried back to him. I stepped outside and closed the door behind me, locking it.

"So what do you have planned, doc?" We walked to his car parked on he side of the road in front of the driveway.

"Come on now, what fun is it if I tell you?" He picked up his pace to open the passenger side door for me. I giggled, thanking him in the process.

"Such a gentleman." I said, getting in the seat. I looked at him as I grabbed the seatbelt. He had one hand on the top of the door and the other holding himself up on the side of the car. Then, he winked at me as he pushed it shut. I watched as he walked around the car to the drivers side and got in. "And I thought chivalry was dead."

"...In a way." He muttered, but I couldn't tell what he said.

"Huh?"

"Nothing." He smiled at me as he started the ignition and drove. I didn't think anything of it.

"I'm really excited for tonight, ya know." I spoke. "If I'm being honest, I've had a small crush on you since you put my cast on."

"I know." Carlisle glanced at me and grinned.

"Wait, what? How?"

"Just had a feeling." He replied. "And I'm glad I was right, because I've had a big crush on you ever since I put your cast on."

I knew we were going on a date right now, and he's the one who asked me out, but hearing him say that he's liked me the same time I've liked him is just mind boggling to me. We talked for a bit more before we made it into downtown, and he parked.

"Okay, it's a downtown date?" I looked around from the window. There were tea lights in the trees which lit up the night sky, it was a really pretty sight, one of the reasons I loved going downtown at this time.

"I hope that's okay, I'd love to spoil you tonight. Every night, if you'd let me."

Swoon.

Carlisle didn't give me a chance to answer, he exited the car and went to my side to let me out. He held out his hand once he opened the door, and I took it immediately.

"If this is how you treat your potential lovers, I don't think I'll ever want to leave your side." I joked. He gently pulled to help me stand, and when I stood up from getting out, the proximity of our bodies were a lot closer than I had anticipated.

"That's the plan." He whispered, but we were so close I heard it loud and clear. Our eyes met, and I looked for anything that indicated any sort of distrust in his gaze, but all I saw was longing and affection. I felt myself starting to get flustered, so I broke contact and stepped back, thankful that the air was chilly enough to cool down any heat I started to feel from him.

"Where should we go first?" I changed the subject, looking at all of the different shops in both directions. Stepping on the sidewalk, Carlisle followed me.

"Wherever you want to go." He suggested.

"Well I don't want to go into a store that you'd rather not go in." I started, but in response he started to laugh.

"Thank you, but if you're happy, I'm happy. Wherever you'd like to go, I'd like to go."

"...You're too sweet." I looked at him. Without asking, I took his arm in mine and held it with my hands while I guided him down the walkway. "What about the bookstore first?"

"That sounds lovely."

We entered the shop, and the atmosphere was cozy and warm. There were chairs at the front to sit and read, the lights glowed an amber hue, and the smell was a nice mixture of oakwood and new and old books alike. The man at the counter greeted us, to which we waved and smiled back. I walked to my favorite section with Carlisle beside me and started browsing.

"What's your favorite genre?" I asked, stopping my search to turn my attention to him.

"I'm fond of historical nonfiction."

"Oh, really? I would have assumed medical books are your forte... like stuff on anatomy. Or maybe romance."

"Why would I read about anatomy when I could study yours?"

I was not expecting those words to leave his mouth. My brows raised in shock and I quickly turned my face back to the stories I was looking at so he wouldn't see the intense blush starting to show. I wasn't quite sure what to say, until one book caught my eye and I pulled it off the shelf.

"Ooo! What's this?" I read the title. "Eternity's Love... interesting." I was skimming over the back to see what it was about. "Listen to this! It's a paranormal romance about a vampire and a human... I do love me some vampires."

“Oh? Why?”

“Hm, they’re mysterious and hot.”

“They drink blood.”

“…To each their own.”

I put the book back and made my way down the isle, not seeing the tiny smirk on Carlisle’s face. We ended up staying in the store for another fifteen minutes, and after he made me pick out something to get when I was reluctant to have him pay — which he still did — we went to our next spot, the antique store.

There were a lot of little trinkets I was excited to look at, and if I weren’t mistaken, it seemed like Carlisle was more excited to look at me rather than the objects displayed in front of us. I picked up a few things throughout the store, inspecting them and placing them back in their rightful spots. I would practically point to almost anything I found and say, “Carlisle, look!” to which he would continue to explain what it was, which time period it was from, and what it was used for, almost as if he’s lived through them before and used those very items.

“This is beautiful.” I gasped, gently grabbing an old music box with the handle on the side to wind. I turned it, and although it was a bit scratchy due to its age, the music began to play and it was gorgeous. I didn’t know what the melody was, but it was soft and romantic. “I wonder what the story behind this one is.”

Carlisle looked at me while I went on.

“Maybe a courageous sailor gave it to his weeping lover right before he went to sea. Or maybe it was a gift to a little child from their parents, or an heirloom of some sorts. So many different possibilities, and somehow it ended up here, in my hands right now.”

“Regardless the story, now it’s your turn to make your own with it.” He spoke, taking it from my hands and walking to the register.

“…I could’ve payed.” I said to myself underneath my breath, he was already ringing it up and wrapping it before I went over there. “Let me buy you something.” I told him as we grabbed the bag and exited the shop. The chill from the air hit my face, and I subconsciously — well, maybe consciously — moved closer to him.

“You being with me tonight is enough already.” He smiled, taking my hand in his. His touch was still ice cold, but I blamed it on the weather outside. I felt bad that he was spending his money on me, but when I saw the sign for the coffee shop I lit up.

“I’ll buy us coffee! Or whatever you prefer! It’ll warm us up.” Beaming, I pulled him inside before he could resist. We were instantly met with the wonderful aromas of coffee, tea, spices, and everything else so great about a coffee shop.

There was another couple ordering in front of us, so we stood off to the side to look at the chalkboard of flavors hanging on the wall.

“Thank you, Y/N, but I don’t drink coffee… or tea.”

“I can buy you hot chocolate?”

“I’m okay, really, thank you for the offer.”

“…What do you drink then?”

He stared off to the side to think before bursting out into a mischievous grin, saying, “Blood red wine.”

I giggled with a roll of my eyes.

“Are you sure you don’t want anything?” I asked again, stepping to order now that the other couple had just left. He nodded his head, and with a disappointed sigh I told the boy at the register what I’d like. I decided to get a honey lavender chai tea latte. He rang it up and told me my total, but when I was getting out my card, Carlisle had already handed him his.

“Carlisle!” I protested.

“It’s only right that I pay for yours since I’m not getting anything.”

I furrowed my brows in genuine annoyance, which he definitely saw.

“Hey! I’ll let you buy me something on our next date.” He took his card back.

“So you wanna go on another date?” I perked up, and we waited for my drink to be made.

“Of course I do.”

His words caused me to break out into a shy smile, and I bit my lip in an attempt to keep it from growing bigger.

Once I was handed my latte, we left the store and walked to a bench close to the car. I sat down next to Carlisle and started sipping, the hot liquid traveling down my throat and immediately warming me up. I was staring off at the other side of the street at the lights in the trees, but from the corner of my eye I saw Carlisle staring at me.

“It’s really pretty, isn’t it?” I turned my head to him. The side of his face glowed a golden hue from the lights, and his eyes twinkled while his gaze met mine. He truly looked angelic.

“Yeah, it is.” He replied.

I had a feeling he was talking about something else.

We stayed there for a bit until the wind picked up and my cup was empty. I threw it away and we got in the car to leave, but of course he opened the door for me again. We talked about a lot of things on the drive back, and when he pulled into my driveway I couldn’t help but think about how I really didn’t want this night to end.

“Gosh, I don’t even wanna get out of the car.” I let out a chuckle.

“You know you don’t have to.” He stated. I looked at the time, and saw that it was 8:30. I had work in the morning, and so did he.

I sighed, taking a few seconds to think before I finally unbuckled and quickly opened the door to leave with my bags with the stuff he got for me. Carlisle followed, upset that I opened my own door.

“I was supposed to do that!”

I laughed, getting my keys out and stopping in front of my door with Carlisle beside me. I turned to him, a small smile on my features.

“I had a really nice time tonight.” I said to him.

“Yeah, me too.” He replied. “I’m thinking we do this again… say, in about—…” He glanced at his watch. “Ten minutes?”

“Oh yeah, okay.” I giggled at his joke. He was looking at me with something in his eyes that I couldn’t quite catch, but it was enough to send butterflies to my stomach. “Well, I—…” My voice trailed off when I saw him lean in and felt his lips on my forehead, my face now adorned with a blush. When I thought that was it, he moved down to the tip of my nose and placed a light kiss on top of it. The lower he got, the faster my heart was beating. His lips were finally in front of my own, and his eyes were on mine. We were so close, he was hovering in front of me, waiting, almost as if searching for consent. I gave a slight nod, and felt his lips gently press against mine.

My eyes closed, and hopefully his did too. I leaned into the kiss, and was happy when he did the same. Both of his hands cupped my face, and I felt my stomach twist with excitement. It was sweet, romantic, but unfortunately it was short. He pulled away and rested his forehead on mine.

“Ya know, you’re welcome to come in. I can make us some popcorn and we can watch a movie.” I whispered, my eyes fluttering open again. To my dismay, he moved completely now and stepped back.

“I would love to, but I think you need to rest.”

As if he willed it, a yawn was conjured and my mouth stretched open to let it out.

“…Maybe you’re right.” I frowned. He took my keys from my hand and unlocked the door for me before opening it. I walked past him inside, and then turned to him again. “Let me know when you get home?”

“Of course.” He gave me another kiss on the forehead, then started walking back to his car. When he was to the driver’s side, he stopped and looked at me. “Get some sleep. Doctor’s orders!”

I grinned, nodding my head with a wave of my hand as I shut the door and locked it. I turned around and pressed my back against the wood, and I heard his car turn on and him leaving. I couldn’t believe the events that had just unfolded, I was smiling like a freak, all giddy. I was still against the door when I suddenly heard the house phone ringing. I hurried to pick it up and answered it, but before I could even say hello, Bella’s voice spoke from the other line.

“Am I mistaken, or… did I just see Carlisle leaving your house?”

“Bella, hey!”

I was beaming as I replayed the events that happened in the last couple of hours in my mind. It looks like I had a long story to tell before I could follow the doctor’s orders tonight.

———————————

I hope it’s alright that I tag the people who asked for a pt. 2 in the comments of the first part!

not proofread, sorry if there are any typos!

@victorianhorrors @emmettcullenswife @twilightlover2007 @cudan2

[inkwolvesandcoffee]

Sweet Grains (Alfie Solomons x Reader, Modern AU)

Genre: Romance, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Modern AU, Bakery AU

Pairing: Alfie Solomons x Reader

Word count: 3.7K

Warnings: Talk of eating disorders and low self-esteem (based on personal experience, so don’t be a twat), Alfie being a proper gentleman

Summary: Kindness can go a long way. A loaf of bread, a cup of coffee, a conversation to break up the pressure that comes with ambition. Alfie Solomons, the most feared man in Camden and perhaps the whole of London, is full of these little bits of sweetness.

Not that he would admit this outright, of course. However, the men at the bakery certainly notice a change in his demeanour whenever you pop by.

But when you do so to drop off a gift, there soon rises a bitterness that excels that of the dark roast served at The Old Rum House Bakery. Yet, as with the darkest of coffees, Alfie works his magic to reduce the awful taste.

Because he wants the best for you, who is starting to be more than a friend to him. Who else will he grant the privilege of eating his soda bread?

He wants you.

And a new bookie.

Tag List: @zablife @vir-tual @babaohhhriley @hecatemoon87 @potter-solomons @dreamlandcreations @solomons-finest-rum @mollybegger-blog @liliac-dreamer @buttercupsandboys @rose-like-the-phoenix @wandawiccan60

TH Masterlist

Gratitude is easy and simultaneously terrifying to show.

Take a deep breath. It’s gonna be alright.

The tin in my hands feels like it’s filled with stones rather than cookies. Also, the design of it, navy blue with gold and flowers, suddenly doesn’t seem that great of an idea either. It would be a shame to throw it away, but the thought of asking for it back once it’s empty makes me uneasy. After all, it’s a gift.

While gathering my courage, I watch people stroll by the bakery in front of me. It is mostly locals who stop to check out the fully stocked window display. Tourists tend to get their food elsewhere in the market. However, even in Croydon they can vouch for the quality and taste of The Old Rum House Bakery in Camden. 

Recently I’ve been popping by here to study for the AAT Bookkeeping exam. Partially because I want to expand and develop my personal skill set, but primarily because I’m well over being a barista and working for minimum wage. The owner, Alfie Solomons, has been kind enough to help me. Although, perhaps it’s better to say he insisted on it in his own way.

The tall burly man kept walking past me and looking over my shoulder during the first few days. Now, I can’t blame him because who wouldn’t get curious when someone sets up an improvised office in their business? On the first day, I was ready to pack up and leave in the blink of an eye. The hairs on the back of my neck remained upright, my hands jittery with the anticipation of being told by a gravelly voice to leave so there would be space for more customers.

But those words were never said.

Alfie let me sit for as long as I wanted.

The one time I had the nerve to meet his gaze, he plopped down in the chair across from me and told me he’d teach me the books. Just like that. I blinked, gobsmacked by his blunt and rather hellbent statement. Since then, he’s been my mentor.

And I don’t want to disappoint him.

One… two… three. Let’s go!

“Y/N, what’re you doing here?” The voice in my ear pierces through the hubbub of the busy street, packed with people enjoying the rare London sunshine by roaming around. Snapped out of my reverie yet still drowsy with dread, I turn to the man with black curly hair who has appeared at my side.

“Ollie, hey, hi! Is- Um, is Alfie… in? Today, I mean? Now?” It’s silly, reduced to a blabbering mess because of a person I know decently well. For as far as one can know another when in a mentor-student relation. Although, sometimes it seems we’re more than that.

Our conversations know no limits, freely flowing over tea and coffee. I can never leave without a loaf of soda bread he refuses to sell despite it being a piece of heaven. It has this certain sweet element, which he refuses to reveal what it is. However, there is one thing I value above all else.

He always makes time for me. No matter whether it’s rush hour or quiet, early in the morning when the bread is still being baked or late in the afternoon when there’s barely anything left and inventory has to be taken, Alfie stops being a business owner and becomes my mentor. Or, rather, my friend. Although, perhaps that’s a step too far. 

We’re close acquaintances.

Very close acquaintances.

The assistant brand manager of the bakery chuckles. “Yeah, he is.”

“Great! Can you give him this?” I hold the tin out to him.

“Why don’t you give it yourself? I’m just returning from my break so he can go on one. I’ll fetch him for you.”

“Oh, no, I’m kinda busy and-’’

“Don’t be shy. Come on in.” Ollie holds the door open and gestures for me to go inside.

Mentally cursing myself, I take a deep breath and step forwards.

The warm scent of freshly baked bread and brewed coffee hangs in the air, vibrant like the murmur of hushed conversation and the clinking of tableware. Here and there some tables are occupied with the customers who remain from the rush hour caused by lunch. However, most of them are almost done. In the back, a couple gets up to leave. Unsurprisingly, their smiles are content.

Because the food here would be fit for a king. 

As soon as I cross the threshold, the broad-shouldered man with slicked back brown curly hair behind the counter turns around. He grows still when his sea blue eyes fall on me, the loaf of bread in his hands entirely forgotten.

My heart skips a beat, skittish under the intensity of his gaze. I grip the tin in my hands a little tighter, but the metal does nothing to cool the flush of heat that washes over me. A queasy feeling starts to set up in my stomach when the awareness I’m showing more skin than usual hits. Nevertheless, I put on a mask and muster a smile. “Hey.”

Alfie clears his throat. He blinks a few times like he’s been rudely woken and needs to ground himself in reality again. An unusual awkward groan falls from his lips as he places the bread he’s holding on a nearby counter, wipes his hands on his apron, and then nods in greeting. “Shalom, love.”

What was that reaction?

The sound of my heels on the stone tiles is incredibly loud in my ears as I come closer. Even an elephant would walk more gracefully and quietly in them than I do. Unfortunately, in my enthusiasm I didn’t calculate in the time it would take for me to learn how to wear them properly and move like a sophisticated woman rather than a lumbering individual.

“I popped by to give you these.” I hold the gift I prepared out to him. “As a thank you for teaching me how to bookkeep.”

“You made these?” he asks as he gratefully accepts the tin. His expression brightens as he inspects the oatmeal cookies inside.

“They’re orange and apricot with a bit of salt. Also, they’re kosher. Spent the entire day in the kitchen trying to get them right.’’ I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear and glance at the floor. ‘‘I’m not much of a baker, unlike you.”

“Want me to start teachin’ you that too?”

“What?’’ Mouth dry, I stare at him before I break out in a panic mess of words. ‘‘Oh, no! No, I couldn’t possibly ask that of you. I mean, you have a business to run and-’’

“I wouldn’t mind. Besides, I free up time for you anyway so you can learn the books proper.” He puts the lid back on the tin and carefully places it next to the loaf of bread he held earlier. Then he crosses his arms and leans on the counter. The shadows the artificial light cast on his skin accentuates how sculpted they are, hardened by working long hours. “Time spent in good company ain’t wasted.”

“Look, it’s really nice of you, but I don’t want to take up any more of your time. You should have a moment for yourself as well.”

Completely ignoring my remark, he continues in the same casual tone. “Kitchen is awfully busy durin’ work hours, so it’d have to be after closin’ or really early in the mornin’. Also, I’m not gonna put you among the men. No, if I’m to teach you, it’ll be only us. Way safer and more comfortable, innit? Now, I don’t think you’d like me knockin’ on your door at four when not even the pigeons-’’

“Why?” I ask, nibbling on my lower lip.

“Why what?”

“Why would you pick me up?”

Am I really worth the effort?

“Because London isn’t a safe place for doves. The shadows want to tarnish their pretty feathers, corrupt and break their kind spirits. I don’t want that to happen.” For a moment we look at each other, silently assessing where his comment puts us. His expression still unreadable, careful to conceal the sentiments he harbours towards me, Alfie continues. “If you stay after hours, I could see you safely off to the tube before dusk. If you trust and would let me, of course.”

Surprised by the offer, I open and close my mouth. Nevertheless, no answer or adequate response comes to mind. The absence of a hint he’s joking or simply being politely nonchalant also makes it hard to respond. 

“No means no, don’t it?” A quicksilver smile flashes over his lips, half-hidden beneath his bushy whiskers. “Think it over. You can accept or reject the offer whenever. Until then, it stands.”

Why me? Why not someone else? Plenty of women would kill to be made the same offer by you. I’m not worth the trouble.

“Yeah.” I clear my throat, though the light tremble in it remains. “It does.”

Another silent moment passes, a few seconds in which his gaze doesn’t waver. I glance around the bakery, praying for Ollie to come through or new customers to come in. Any diversion would be appreciated.

Anything to distract him lest he should see the butterfly storm inside.

“C- Can you stop staring at me?”

“I’m sorry. Ain’t proper, innit?” Alfie stands up straight and puts his hands in his pockets. Watching the street through the window stocked full with today’s bread, he rubs his lips together in contemplation. A thought he voices on a deep breath. “You look lovely, my dear.”

It’s just a pet name. Casual, the way he talks. It’s not affection towards me. It’s not. 

“Oh, t- thank you.” I pluck at the hem of my dress. “I finally had the courage to wear this one. Still feels a bit weird.”

“Well, I think you look wonderful. Much too pretty for Camden, though. But more than right for Bloomsbury or Westminster.” Though there’s genuine warmth in the gruff half-grumbled words and tenderness in his eyes, there’s an underlying bleakness.

And it tells me he knows.

“I- I’m gonna- I-’’ I point at the door over my shoulder. “I should go.”

“Fancy a cup of tea?” Alfie lunges forward and places his palms on the counter like he’s ready to launch himself over it. “‘Ow about we ‘ave one of those cookies too?”

“I don’t-’’

“Just one.” A careful though encouraging smile tugs at the corners of his lips. Evidently he’s not planning to let me leave, determined to use his charm to make me stay yet too proud to openly beg. “It’s good to treat yourself. One cookie won’t do any ‘arm, especially not with tea. Do an old man a favour?”

And like every time he prepares a sandwich for me and refuses to let me cross the threshold back onto the street without a loaf of soda bread, I want to try. Not only for myself.

But also for him.

“Sure.”

He claps, the noise loud enough to involuntarily turn my content resignation to temporary shock. Fortunately, the way my body jolts remains unnoticed. “Marvellous. Any preferences?”

“Not really.”

“Hm, maybe a nice pot of yuja, yeah? The sweetness will be in perfect ‘armony with the orange in the biscuits. Besides, it’s almost summer, so it’s time for citrus fruits, innit?”

“We’re barely halfway through spring. It’s not even May yet.”

“The weather’s warmin’ up, though.”

“I still don’t think that makes it summer any time soon,” I chuckle.

“I suppose it doesn’t.” Alfie lets out a breathless laugh, features softened with the kindness he usually displays around me. Nevertheless, there’s also an odd tender warmth in it that is hard to define. It’s the same curious emotion I sometimes glimpse on his face when I drop by to study or when he’s using his own bookkeeping to serve as a real-life example. When I make a mistake and he corrects it, explaining what I did wrong and how to do it right next time.

It’s there in the corner of my eye, vague in peripheral vision. However, now that I see it blatantly before me, I still can’t name it.

“You wait ‘ere, yeah. Give me a moment to prepare everythin’ and we’ll pick a nice and quiet spot.”

While the tea brews, Alfie sets up a tray. With a gentle carefulness that belies his usual rough demeanour, he places the biscuit tin alongside two dainty plates on it. In the meanwhile, I remain by the counter to soak up the sunlight, ever rare here in London, coming in through the windows. Normally I’d feel awkward simply standing around in a place where I could easily be noticed. Yet, it’s never like that when he’s nearby.

Strange, how he is both my peace and my flame. 

Humming along to one of Adele’s songs, Alfie pours the yellow liquid in a chic porcelain teapot. ‘‘There,’’ he mumbles, a proud note in his gravelly voice. ‘‘Done. Come on.’’

He guides us to a small table in a corner in the back, far removed from the other customers and staff. All the while, he stays close yet maintains a polite distance.

Alfie sits down on the chair across from me after setting the table and pouring us both a cup. Neither of us says anything, both content to only sip tea and occasionally meet the other’s gaze. 

Whereas his employees seem to have the urge to talk as soon as their boss falls silent, it’s never been the case for me nor vice versa. It’s the same type of silence as when he reminds me to take a break. The most effective way to actually get me to take one, he found, is to literally swipe my study materials to the side or pull me away from his laptop if he’s giving real-life examples. Afterwards, he’ll pull me to my feet to this very same spot so we can sit down together for a cup of tea or coffee. 

A moment of reprieve, wherein there are no burdens. No pressure to do well, no fear to mess up, no worries about changes.

There’s only us, the world shut out.

Unfortunately, the comfortable silence doesn’t last long. The corners of his mouth turn downwards and his brows knit together as words enter his mind. The way he puts his cup down on the saucer with a clink that’s a little too loud preludes to conversation.

One I’d rather not have. 

However, there’s only so long I can and perhaps want to avoid it.

And when it comes to him, I’m done running.

I want to talk.

Alfie groans, the metallic sound of his rings tapping against the side of the cup strengthening his sense of discomfort. “I know it ain’t right to ask because it’s impolite and not something a gentleman should ask, yeah. You are permitted, by the way, to storm out the door after throwin’ your tea in my face. It’d be a waste but I wouldn’t blame ya. I’d never come back either if someone asked me this.”

Head bowed, I stir my tea. “Alfie?”

“Yes, love?”

“The question.”

“Yeah… right, guess I’m beatin’ ‘round the bush too much, ain’t I?” He presses his lips together for a moment and runs a hand through his beard, lost in contemplation. The long breath he takes comes out as a deep sigh. “Look, I meant it when I said I think you look wonderful. And I’m very bloody grateful you come ‘ere for lunch or afternoon tea. It’s a fuckin’ honour to see you enjoy the food and drink ‘ere.”

“But?”

“But you’ve lost weight again, ‘aven’t ya?” he asks, his usual warm drawl devoid of emotion.

I shake my head and smile wistfully. Looks like I’m found out. “I don’t even actively try to anymore. It just… happens.”

“Do you eat? When you’re not ‘ere, I mean.”

“Three meals a day. A protein bar for brekkie or a bowl of vegan yogurt with some granola. I come here for lunch or eat a slice of your soda bread with a piece of fruit when I’m busy. Dinner kinda depends on what I’m in the mood for, but it’s generally vegetarian and has lots of veggies.”

“And working out?”

“Almost every day. I can’t sit still. It drives me up the bloody wall. I try to take rest days, but I’m not particularly good at that.”

“‘Ow much?”

I take a sip from my tea. “Too light.”

No workout today, no need. Tea won’t make you fat. Sure, it’s sweet, but not from sugar. It’s okay.

He lets out deep sigh through his nose, mumbles something under his breath, and stares out into the bakery. In the meanwhile, I don’t dare to look up at him.

Terrified of his disappointment in me.

“Look, I’m not goin’ to be the solution to the problem, it’s a journey you yourself will ‘ave to go on. All the same, I wanna ‘elp.” Slowly I raise my head, unsure about his intentions. Alfie sits back with his arms crossed. The only movement he makes is squeezing his bicep with strained forearms. “You’re a strong wonderful woman, clever to boot. I’d ‘ate it if I lost your company due to bad health. Or worse.”

“My health is fine. I guess I’m just too skinny.”

“Which means you’re more prone to sickness. And cold.” His gaze falls on the goosebumps littering my skin. “Can I ask the number on the scale?”

“Forty-six, sometimes forty-five.’’ 

‘‘Please tell me you eat a little more on those days.’’

‘‘I do, try to, but it hardly helps. Still came further down from forty-eight.”

He swallows hard, a slight taper in his breath as he speaks. “I won’t tell you what to do. What you can and can’t eat. You are your own woman and therefore free to tell me to fuck off and mind my own bloody business. Which I should, I’m well aware, love, yet I can’t. We ‘aven’t known each other that long, but I’m quite fond of you. Yeah, you ‘eard me. Fond, extremely. So I worry for you and since I’m also a chronic overthinker, I worry a lot.”

Sure you do.

Because if the King of Camden is known for something, it’s his silver tongue. 

“We can start small. You already said you eat my bread at ‘ome and I see you eat when you’re ‘ere. That’s good. Let’s start from there. We’ll go explore new foods together and I’ll occasionally cook for you. I’m no master chef, right, but I don’t think my borscht is bad. It’s me mum’s recipe, so I don’t dare fuck it up. I always make way too much brisket as well and it would be a cryin’ shame to throw it away or keep it as leftovers when it can be shared. You see, people have been bonding over food for centuries.” He leans in, his fingers entwined as they rest on the table. Voice lowered to a pleasant purr, he makes an irresistible proposal which I am loath to decline. Nonetheless, I don’t want to readily accept it with an enthusiasm and positivity I haven’t felt in a very long time. The butterflies have to remain contained because to show them would be to rip their wings. “Shall we try and see if that’s true?”

“I’d like that, Alfie.” The mention of his name conjures a beaming smile which shows off his slightly crooked teeth. One of his little perfect imperfections. “I’d like it a lot.”

“Well, let’s start with this.” He grabs a cookie from the tin, splits it in half, and holds one of the pieces out to me. “Small steps.”

I merely gaze at the cookie, my mind and body entangled in a war of control. One side wants to reach out to accept the piece of food, the other advocates to wait for Alfie to retract his hand. In the end, I clench my jaw and fight my very nature to take it.

He leans back, the beginning of an affectionate smile lingering like a ghost on his lips. After a moment of watching me nibble on the cookie and take a sip of tea, he speaks up. “Still trying to get into Shelby’s company?”

I shake my head. “I don’t feel confident enough for that. I’m not really too good with the books, am I? Maybe in the far future. When I’m better.”

“I don’t think you’re doing too shabby. In fact, I think you’re doing pretty well. Simply need to practice, is all.”

It’s basically immediately reaching for the top, the stars far out of reach and only for the gods to touch. As if a prestigious company like Shelby Company Limited would accept a rookie bookkeeper, a nobody without experience. That is, if I manage to pass the exam.

Alfie puts his half of the cookie in his mouth. An appreciative hum rises from his throat as he munches on it. A wave of calm gratification washes away the guilt of eating, replaces it with a flush of warmth throughout my body. I take a deep breath, once again able to breathe a little easier around him.

He wipes his mouth on a napkin, which he then uses to wipe some of the crumbs from his beard. “How about you become my bookie?”

“Pardon?” I squint at him like it might help me understand him better. Either that, or prove I misheard him.

“Would take some of the burden off me shoulders. Let me focus on other things to keep this place open for business.’’ The silliness of his grin amplifies the glow in his cheeks. However, there’s anxious anticipation in the way he twists his rings. “‘Sides, you’re the only one I trust with my finances.”

“Aren’t you afraid I’ll fuck up?”

“You’re a clever little bird so I don’t think you will. You will pass that exam, after all. I’m certain of it. But, if it makes you comfortable, we can figure it out together in the first few weeks. Two pairs of eyes are better than one, innit?”

Not because of second opinions, controlling perfectionism, nor business.

But because we sometimes need help.

And that’s okay.