#man these last few chapters were like pulling teeth

[a-court-of-lust-and-stardust]

Love on Ice Chapter 21: The Confessions

I’d say this is the chapter everyone has been waiting for 🥰

13 Days until Competition

Elain’s head had never been more…clear. As she strolled through the ice rink with an air of serenity she’d never had the pleasure of experiencing, her body finally felt light, weightless. Almost as if she were floating. 

It’d been a few days since the night in with her sisters, and since she’d last seen Azriel. Elain had used those days to skate alone, make cookies, journal, and simply…be. It was the most free she’d ever felt. 

The sound of a stick on ice broke her from her thoughts, and there he was, completely lost in his element. Azriel was covered head to toe in his black and purple equipment, although she knew his late night practice had ended more than thirty minutes ago. 

From the side of the rink, Elain settled her back into the glass and permitted herself this one moment to admire him while he was distracted. To reflect on their friendship and budding romance, because they had gotten to that point. To remind herself that yes, she wanted him, and wanted him longer than she was ready to admit, and that was okay. To assert that she was done running from her feelings and done letting a dead woman’s unattainable expectations control her.  

Azriel noticed her a minute later, peeling off his helmet and tossing it to the side, face framed by damp black waves. His smile, that slightly chipped, adoring smile, would never fail to send her heart soaring. “Hi, Elain.” 

Elain gracefully skated toward him, stopping just a few inches from his chest. She glanced up at him, nuzzling her cheek into his palm when he delicately brushed a lock of hair behind her ear. “Hi, Az.” 

���I haven’t seen you in a few days,” Azriel noted, lip pulled between his teeth. “Are you okay?” 

Always wondering and worrying about her. This beautiful, attentive, selfless man. How lucky she was to know him. To have him. 

Elain nodded, taking his hand to lace their fingers together. “I’m okay. More than okay, actually. After I spent the night with my sisters, I did a lot of…soul searching. Or reflecting, I guess.” She ran her thumb over his knuckles, mirroring all the times he’d done it to her. It’d been surprisingly soothing, and Elain hoped she could provide him with the same comfort. “I don’t know if I’ve ever truly thanked you.” 

Azriel swallowed thickly, nothing but unrestrained adoration in his hazel eyes as he whispered, “For what, sweetheart?” 

“From the start, you believed in me. More than anyone ever has. You never let me falter, never pushed me to the point where I broke. You’ve always looked at me like I’m worth something, treated me like it, too.” Elain inhaled sharply, ignoring the pesky tears that made their escape from her eyes. “And for someone who spent her life believing she was worthless…the way you speak about me…the way you think about me and look at me…means everything. So thank you. For being the only person to ever truly see me.” 

Their sighs mingled together as Azriel pulled her into his chest, cheek pressed against the top of her head. Elain squeezed his middle tightly, which was difficult due to his hockey gear, but it didn’t matter so long as she was tucked away in his arms. Right where she preferred, right where she belonged. 

“You’re perfect, Elain,” Azriel murmured, dusting a kiss on her brow. “And you’ve always been worth it. You will always be worth it."

Her heart squeezed as she pulled back and asked, “Are you okay?” 

Azriel nodded and forced a smile, but Elain was well aware of the tension between his brows, in his jaw. She itched to smooth those lines from his skin. “I’ve been doing some..brooding over the last day or so.” 

“Is that why you stayed after practice tonight?” Elain snickered, swatting his gloved hands that dove to lovingly pinch her hips. “To blow off steam?” 

“I did,” He affirmed, looking between the hockey net, the lone puck, and Elain. “Would you like to see how?” 

She nodded enthusiastically, eager to acquaint herself with his world, his talent. 

Azriel skated off the ice momentarily, fetching a few spare supplies from the locker room. He emerged back on the ice with a bucket of black pucks and a smaller stick. Grinning, he handed Elain the stick and dumped the pucks on the ice, watching as they slid in every direction. 

“What are we doing?” She asked through a laugh, round eyes bright. 

“Watch,” He instructured with a smirk, gathering a puck on his stick as he positioned himself at the blue line. And maybe he used this opportunity to show off his skills, flipping the puck in the air a handful of times and catching it on the blade before shooting it in the net with lightning speed. It soared into the back of the net with ease. 

Elain blinked. “You want me to do that ?”

“No. That skill is for day two,” He joked lightheartedly, nudging a puck toward her. She stopped it with the toe of her skate. “Today, you can just shoot the puck.” 

She frowned, glancing between the stick and Azriel’s face. “How do you hold it properly?” 

Truth be told, he could have verbally instructed her. It would’ve been easy to tell her how to grip the stick and walk her through the steps, but his fingers were aching to slide over any part of her body. A body he hadn’t seen or felt in days. 

“May I?” He skated behind her, waiting for permission to touch. When she agreed, he positioned her hands along the shaft of the stick, not too close or spread apart. He assisted her in taking a few practice shots, rough hands guiding soft ones or dancing over her waist to help position her stance. This close, he could smell her shampoo or perfume, the combination of vanilla and something distinctly floral dizzying. He fought off the urge to nuzzle his nose in the crook of her neck or run his tongue along the side of her throat in that primal, claiming way he’d only ever felt around her.

“I want you to channel everything into that puck,” he whispered, lips ghosting over the shell of her ear. He heard her swallow. “Every time someone doubted you. Every time someone made you feel like you weren’t good enough. Each and every time you felt angry, hurt, heartbroken, pressured, used. Think of it all, and shoot. that. puck.” 

He skated back, watching Elain’s jaw clench as she recalled some of her worst memories. Sharp eyes zeroed in on the puck, and with a crack, she sent it spiraling across the ice, sliding right into the net. 

She yelped joyously, head snapping toward Azriel with a proud grin stretched across her cheeks. He clapped, posture easy as he leaned against the boards. 

“Az, did you see that?” 

“I did El,” he said softly, angling his head toward the spare pucks. “I’m impressed. Try it again.” 

And again she did. 

Over and over, she set up pucks and shot them. Some went terribly wide, some dinged off the posts and ricocheted off the crossbar, but many found their way buried into the back of the net. Each time she missed, she’d pout. Every time a puck touched the net, she’d grin or laugh or dance. 

Her elation was infectious. Her shoulders were weightless, and there was no sign of tension straining her face. She needed this. Time to be silly and carefree without worry. Azriel was glad he could give this to her.

“Think the Ice Warriors will let me take your spot?” Elain quipped, eyes full of mischief as she twirled the stick.

He snickered, pushing off the boards to retrieve the pucks from the net. “With the way I practiced, they very well might.”

Elain dug the toe of her hockey stick into the ice, balancing her arms on the end. “Can you tell me the story of how you discovered you loved to play hockey?” 

It was evident by his face that Azriel wasn’t expecting that question. But he’d tell her anything she ever wanted to know about him. Sharing parts of himself wasn’t frightening. Not with her. 

“I only ever played when I was permitted to visit my mother,” Azriel started, mimicking Elain’s stance. “Illyria was one of the poorer places in the Night Region. Our hockey sticks were thick tree branches, our puck was a crushed tin can, the net was a bunch of taped pipes, and since there was no rink, we played on concrete. Me and all the other Illyrian children, Cassian included, loved it. We would always split off into two teams, but never took it seriously. For most of them, it was just a way to pass the time. But for me it was the one time I felt like a kid. I’ve only been playing for a few years.” 

“And you’re good at it,” Elain confirmed, eyes soft. 

Azriel winked. “The best.” 

Elain chuckled. “When did you actually learn how to skate?

“Not until I moved to Velaris as a teenager. Rhys and Morrigan grew up knowing since their families had enough money to afford lessons, so they taught me and Cass. I fell in love with skating, but there wasn’t an official hockey team until a few years ago. Morrigan couldn’t enter the ice dancing competition alone, and since I just wanted to keep skating in whichever way was possible, I agreed to be her partner. Once there was news that hockey was making its way to Velaris, I stopped competing.” 

“Which do you like better? Hockey or ice skating?” 

Azriel shrugged. “Both. For different reasons. Hockey for the athleticism and sportsmanship, and ice skating for the artistry and techniques. They serve two purposes in my life, and I couldn't imagine not loving either sport.” Sheepishly, he added, “Sorry. I didn’t mean to go off on a tangent.” 

“I don’t mind,” Elain answered. “I asked. And I–like listening to you. Learning about you.” Her eyes flashed up toward him. Pools of hazel were already staring at her, pupils significantly dilated as he took her in. She imagined her eyes were similar. 

Before he could act on his desire, Azriel cleared his throat. “How about I get the pucks from the net, and you and I can have a little competition of our own, hm?” 

Elain shot him a devious look. “You’re on.” 

Quick as he could, Azriel launched himself to the net and pushed the pucks back toward the blue line, a laugh bubbling to the surface when Elain pleaded for him not to send all the pucks toward her at the same time because she couldn’t stop them all. When he assumed he’d gathered all the pucks, he stood from his crouched position, only to see a lone puck behind the net. 

He slid around to catch it on his blade, and before he could send it back toward Elain, he heard her cry out. 

“Az, duck!” 

Of course, he did the exact opposite. His head snapped up, and he couldn’t react quick enough before the puck smacked against his eyebrow and fell dully on the ice. 

He felt the blood before he saw it, wincing at the sting of pain. Elain gasped, throwing the stick and skating toward him, crystalline tears hanging on her lashes. 

“Az, I’m sorry,” She croaked, hands covering her face as she watched the blood pour from the gash. “I thought you’d gotten up and were skating away and–.” 

“Elain, breathe,” Azriel said gently, pulling her into his chest. He kissed her hair once, hoping the gesture would soothe her. “It was an accident. I’m okay, sweetheart, I promise. Come with me so I can clean this up.”

She didn’t protest when he took her hand and skated them off the ice toward the locker room. Not wanting to bloody his practice jersey more than it was, he shrugged it off and tossed it to the side along with his shoulder pads. 

“What can I do?” Elain asked through her tears, eyes darting around the room for something she could do to be productive. Also so that her eyes did not linger on Azriel’s bare chest and the blood smeared across his tattoos.

“If you can grab a few clean towels from the bathroom storage closet, that would be–.” 

She didn’t even let him finish. As fast as she could on skates, she wobbled to the nearest bathroom to gather a handful of towels, blinking away the new wave of tears. When she returned, she found Azriel sitting down on the wooden bench, fiddling with a first aid kit. His head shot up when she came bursting in through the door. 

“Elain, please be careful. I don't need you breaking your ankle because you’re running around all frantic.” 

She rolled her eyes so far back in her head she could’ve seen her skull. “Will you shush and stop worrying about me for three seconds?”

Azriel huffed, criss crossing his legs on the bench to face her. He’d shucked off his skates before she emerged from the bathroom.

Elain settled herself on the bench, kneeling as she pressed a towel to his eyebrow. Her arms were a bit weak from shooting pucks, but she hoped the pressure would be enough to stop the bleeding. Her legs grew tired after a minute of awkwardly kneeling on the bench. With one hand, she shifted her weight to hastily untie her skates, letting them drop to the floor as she assumed a cross legged position herself. This position, however, strained her back enough to where it was uncomfortable, not tolerable. 

“I–do you mind if I come closer?” She requested gently, goosebumps skittering over her skin.

“Do what you need.” The thickness in his voice shot straight through her core. 

Elain scooched forward, forcing his legs to open and hang off the sides of the bench. She settled her own legs overtop of his thighs, close enough to his body where she could feel the heat through her own shirt. 

In this proximity, there wasn’t much else she could focus on. She had her choice of his bloodied chest, shoulders, throat, neck, or face. Every part was equally attractive as the next, even covered in crimson. Elain figured a knife would be able to slice right through the tension in the air. 

Thankfully, the pressure she applied to his brow clotted the bleeding within a few minutes. Removing the towel, she studied the gash and then rummaged through the kit for a damp towelette. With gentle fingers, she began cleaning the dried blood from his face. 

And Azriel watched her. Hazel eyes track her every movement, fists clenching and unclenching in his lap with barely concealed restraint. 

Once the area around his brow was cleaned, Elain opened a small butterfly bandage. She titled his head downward, smoothing the bandage over the cut, which was more shallow than she’d originally thought. 

Azriel swallowed as she retrieved another towelette and ran it over his neck. His warm breath exhaled over her cheeks. “You asked me three questions,” He began hoarsely, gripping her wrist to hold it against his skin. “Please just let me ask you one.”

She nodded, tongue absentmindedly darting out to wet her bottom lip. 

Azriel squirmed beneath her as he tracked the movement. 

So she did it again. 

“Elain Archeron,” he groaned, voice utterly wrecked as his other hand slid around the back of her neck, pulling her close until their foreheads touched. He licked his own lips once and asked, “why haven't you let me kiss you yet?” 

Her breath hitched, doe eyes peering up at him through dark lashes. “Azriel–.”

“I need you to tell me if this– thing between us– is all in my head,” he begged, pads of his fingers gently massaging the skin of her neck. “I need you to tell me if I’ve read all the signs wrong. If I’m in way over my damn head. Because the way you look at me drives me fucking wild . Sometimes it looks like you want to kiss me.” A hesitant swallow, followed by a confession that could change everything. “And I know I want to kiss you. I want to kiss you so bad I'd wait years for it. I know how you feel about dating and I know how you feel about mixing business with pleasure and I respect that. I really do. But I need you to know that I want you. I want you, and I would be so good to you, Elain.”

She couldn’t breathe. Her heart was racing and her head was screaming and her body was positively aching as she scooted forward, now seated fully in his lap, towelette discarded somewhere on the floor. His hands slid down to her hips, thumbs brushing over the skin that’d been exposed when her shirt rode up her stomach. 

“I’ve thought so much about this,” He went on, nuzzling into her neck. “About us and what we could be.” Softly, he pressed just one kiss to her burning flesh. “I want to take you out. I want to hold you and kiss you and make you laugh. I want to see how you look first thing in the morning when you wake up. I want to cook you breakfast and dance in the kitchen. I want to watch you accomplish every fucking goal you’ve ever dreamed of. I want to support your passions and hobbies and talents. I want to make love to you. In bed, in a garden, under the fucking stars. I want everything, Elain,” Azriel murmured, removing his lips from her skin. “And I want it with you.” 

There was a miniscule piece of her that believed she didn’t deserve this. His desire, his devotion, his…love. But a far greater part of her, the part that had started to heal the moment he set foot in her life, pushed back against the voice that called her undeserving. 

Because she wanted him and she wanted those same, beautiful moments with him. And she deserved to put herself first. 

“Am I wrong?” Azriel asked cautiously, and her brain short circuited at the raw pain in his voice. “Elain, if I’m wrong, please tell me and I will walk away right now and we will never speak of this again. We will go back to being skating partners, and we will never have to see each other after this competition if you don’t want to. It’s your choice. It is always your choice.” 

Azriel was right. 

It was her choice. 

To touch him. To taste him. To want him.

She slid a hand around his neck too then, fingertips playing with the ends of his dark hair. His eyes struggled to stay open as her fingers grazed his skin. “I think I’ve wanted you for far longer than I was ready to admit.” 

Azriel’s eyes snapped open almost comically. He rasped, “Elain… ”

A finger to his lips silenced him. “I thought denying my feelings for you would ultimately help me remember my goal,” She explained, eyes softening. “But then every day you would do something or say something that made me fall so much harder. And I finally decided that I’m done pretending. I’m done depriving myself of the things I want, the man I want.” 

The corners of his lips twitched, thumbs still lazily circling over her hip bones. Elain wanted him to touch her forever. 

“So to answer your question… No, Azriel,” A shaky breath passed her parted mouth. Elain’s hands slid down his chest, across the dark ink that curled over each ridge of his toned chest, brushing against the E chain she’d made him keep. She let her fingers trace the outline of each intricate swirl. Then she said quietly, “You’re not wrong at all.” 

And Elain finally, finally , kissed him. 

She kissed him hard and fast to make up for all the times their lips should’ve met. Her fingers grabbed at every exposed inch of his skin, pulling him close yet not close enough. She clung to him like a lifeline, the space between their bodies entirely nonexistent as they kissed as if they’d never get another chance.

Azriel’s tongue ran over her bottom lip, and there was no hesitation as she gave him permission to explore her mouth. Elain hadn’t had many kisses in her life, and truly maybe that was for the best, because nothing would ever come close to the way Azriel was claiming her mouth. His lips were confident, calculated, and she moaned when he softly sucked her tongue. 

“You’re so beautiful, Elain,” Azriel whispered in the split second they’d both pulled away to breathe. Lovely scarred hands cradled the sides of her neck as he stared into her eyes and said with conviction, “You are so beautiful and you’re mine. Today, tomorrow, and for however long you wish.” 

Forever sounded good to her. 

“I’m yours,” Her voice was void of hesitation. Only an unwavering proclamation of belonging to him and him alone. 

But Azriel tentatively swallowed, hazel eyes darting between her warm brown ones. He gazed at her carefully. 

She knew he needed to hear it, too. 

Gently, her lips dusted a kiss over his mouth before saying, “You’re mine, Azriel. For today, for tomorrow, and for however long you wish.” 

And something told Elain forever sounded good to him, too.

Azriel had driven them both back to Elain’s apartment. Like lovesick teenagers, they had stumbled through her front door, giggling softly with kiss swollen lips. The plan had been to order takeout and browse through Elain’s selection of movies, but in their frenzy they’d fallen to the sofa, where the last twenty minutes had been spent with Elain straddling Azriel’s lap as he alternated between biting the hollow of her throat or kissing her sweet mouth. 

At a slightly harder nip to her skin, Elain let out a groan that had Azriel chuckling and shifting his hips beneath her. Against her neck, he said, “That one was pretty. I do wonder what other sounds you can make, though.” 

Elain breathed a laugh, pulling back only to gently push his shoulder. She didn’t think she’d ever tire of the way he made flirting look so easy. 

After a moment, Azriel’s smirk settled into something softer, more reserved. “Is this real?” He whispered more to himself than anything, palms splayed open on her thighs. She felt the heat through her dark leggings. He hadn’t stopped touching her since they left the rink.

Elain’s heart fluttered. She nodded once, delicate hands sliding up his arms, the breadth of his shoulders, to cradle his cheeks. “This is real, Az. You’re here. I’m here. We’re together. This is real.” 

With a slight tilt of his head, he pressed a kiss to her inner wrist. His eyes, those gorgeous pools of hazel, were so open and warm and loving. Elain imagined hers looked the same. 

“And you don’t…regret this?” He wondered aloud. The unspoken words rang in the air. You don’t regret choosing me?  

Elain’s fingertips slowly massaged the back of his neck. A purr rumbled through his chest. “No. Quite frankly I’ve grown tired of not prioritizing myself. It’s about time I learned to go after what I want, don’t you think?” 

Azriel dipped his chin. “And I'm what you want?” 

“How could you not be?” Elain shrugged, all the while a beam lit up her face. “You came into my life at a time when I needed you the most. You, Azriel, showed me what it’s like to fall in love with living. You encouraged me, supported me, and placed my happiness above all else.” Elain ghosted her lips over his. “If I lived a thousand lifetimes, I'd choose you in them all.” 

She could have sworn she felt him shudder in relief. 

“I’m so proud of you,” Azriel murmured, hazel eyes glossy. “When I agreed to be your skating partner, I never thought it would lead to this. I just wanted to help in whatever way I could.” Rough hands gripped her waist, pulling her body even further into his own. “I wouldn’t change the outcome for the world. You’re it for me, El. I haven’t wanted anyone else in the years I've known you, and I'm never going to want anyone else.” 

As sweet as it was, Elain cocked her head. “What?” 

Azriel realized his mistake, evident by the red tint on his cheeks. Elain smoothed her hand over his skin as he whispered, “I’ve been smitten with you for seven years, El. Nineteen year old Az thought eighteen year old Elain was the prettiest girl in all of Prythian.” He tucked a piece of hair behind her shoulder, smiling shyly. “She still is.” 

The kiss she gave him stole the breath from his lungs, and soon they were laughing and smiling and rearranging their bodies on the plush sofa to lie beside each other. 

And they simply…talked. 

They talked about their new relationship, mostly. The expectations and the fears and the boundaries. How they feel most loved, most appreciated. Their goals and what they envision for their future. And how beautiful it was for them to be on the same page. 

They were also very briefly interrupted by Nesta’s frantic voice on the phone, begging to see if Elain was available tomorrow to whip up two dozen cupcakes for the end of the year party Nesta was throwing for her dance students. Azriel had been marking her collarbone at the time of the call, and Elain grumbled a quick “Yes, yes they’ll be done by noon, now leave me alone” , before ending the call. 

At some point during their conversation, Azriel let out a loud yawn. He shifted on the couch, no doubt about to stand and grab his keys before Elain pressed a hand to his chest and said, “Stay.” 

Azriel blinked, surely misunderstanding her word. “You…want me to stay?” 

Elain nodded sheepishly. “Yes. I uh…I have a spare toothbrush. And I’ve stolen enough of your clothing over the last few months, so you can change into something fresh.” She bit her lip. “Only if you want to.” 

And if she thought he would pass up the opportunity to fall asleep beside her, she was sorely mistaken. Because fifteen minutes later, showered and ready for bed, Azriel and Elain slipped into her pink satin sheets, limbs tangled with content, sleepy smiles painted on their cheeks. 

It was the most blissful sleep either of them ever had. 

ARTWORK FOR THE CHAPTER BY @chachachai17: Here

DIVIDER BY: @saradika-graphics

[pseudowoodo]

fandom: glee pairing: blaine/sebastian summary: au where the fire that burns Dalton Academy to the ground in s6 happens a few years early, forcing Sebastian to finish his junior year at McKinley. s3 rewrite from 3x14 onward.

chapter nine: faith to take chances words: 4200

They’re not even holding hands or anything when they walk into school together but they must be pretty obvious all the same because Trent looks immensely relieved the second he sees them. 

“Oh good, you worked it out,” he says before looking between them suspiciously. “You did work it out, didn’t you?”

“Yup, last night,” Blaine says, full on beaming.

“Well you could have let us know,” Trent admonishes. “You had us all worried.”

“Sorry, we were kinda busy,” Sebastian smirks.

[traveler-at-heart]

Doctor's In - Chapter 7

Summary: You struggle to relax as you recover from an injury.

Wanda Maximoff x F!R

This chapter contains some badly written smut

Wanda is enjoying this far more than you. Having you home 24/7 seems like a luxury that won’t last long and she’s relishing every second of it.

You, on the other hand, are acting like a caged lion, restless and always looking for ways to pass time, though options are limited with your healing shoulder and bruised body.

This morning, you opted for a stroll while Wanda worked on some sketches. The woman has to do a double take when she’s on a coffee break, because it’s been 40 minutes since you left. And there’s only so much walking a person can do in this neighbourhood.

The answer lies a few houses down the block. Wanda’s walking and looking for you when she spots you in the porch of Agatha’s home. Mrs. Hart and Dottie are there as well, cups of tea and biscuits in a table.

You’re taking Mrs. Hart blood pressure, while she keeps talking about her latest medical appointment.

“Sweetheart” Wanda calls for you. “I need your help in the kitchen”

“Oh, Wanda, I’m so sorry. Y/N here was just walking by and we got talking. She’s so brave for saving that man’s life” Agatha places her hand in your bicep, slightly hoping it annoys Wanda.

“Yes, she is. But now she needs to rest”

“Ladies” you greet, standing up and sighing as you go down the steps. “Sorry” you mutter to Wanda.

“No need to apologize” she stands on her toes to peck your lips. You smile, taking her hand as you both walk back home.

“Next time you’re around I’ll need a physical exam, Doc” Agatha calls and Wanda is about to turn and tell her off when you pull her.

“Nu-uh. Let’s go” you say, sincerely afraid of Harkness.

Wanda remains silent for the rest of the walk and you think she might be upset. That is, until you close the door behind you and are abruptly pushed against it, Wanda’s hand pulling down on your shirt possesively.

“Do I need to tie you up?”

“I wouldn’t mind”

“That’s not what I meant”

“But, baby…”

“You’re still recovering” she warns, but you can tell she is considering it.

“My mouth is fine”  you whine as her lips approach yours. “Please, I have all this pent up energy, and I need some release”

“Is that what you need? Release?”

“Mhm” you nod, your nose bumping against hers.

“Fine” she finally kisses you, and it turns frantic. Wanda starts leading you upstairs, but you shake your head no, going for the couch instead. With the hand that isn’t in the arm sling, you tug at her yoga pants and she slips them down her beautiful legs, panties following suit.

“Come on, here’s your seat” you say, laying down on the couch. Wanda lowers herself, and almost screams when she feels your tongue working quickly around her bundle of nerves.

Without thinking, you suck harder and let your teeth graze her clit, but the feeling of pleasure is so unexpected that Wanda’s legs close around your neck, her knee digging in your bad shoulder.

“Ow, time out” you plead, pain shooting down your arm.

“I’m sorry, I…” Wanda pushes the hair out of her face, looking at you worriedly. “Are you ok? Should we go to the hospital?”

“I’m fine. No need to go and ruin Darcy’s day with the details of our sexcapades, my love”

“You sure?”

“Yes, come here” you ask, and she hesitates, until you pull her down to lie next to you on her couch. Realising she’s naked from the waist down, your hand travels to her ass, looking to squeeze the soft flesh.

“Stop” she warns with her mom voice. “You’re gonna hurt yourself. I thought I broke your neck a second ago”

“What a way to go” you joke, smiling as Wanda laughs against you.

—

Billy writes down in his notebook and you squint your eyes. Fractions are horrible, and how you wish you were helping Tommy with his art project instead.

So, you check the exercise again and sigh.

“I think that’s right, kiddo”

“You sure?”

How bad would it be to say “not at all”? You figure it wouldn’t be wise considering you’re the adult in the room, so you rub your eyes instead.

“I’ll check again after dinner, ok?” you promise, Wanda telling them to go wash their hands.

Going down the stairs, you find your girlfriend in the kitchen. She’s made an effort to cook anything you’re craving, and tonight’s feast is roast beef with potatoes.

“Delicious” you comment, pulling her so she’s pressing against your front.

“Thank you, I think you’ll like it”

“Wasn’t talking about the food” you pull her hair to the side, clearing the path to litter her neck with open mouthed kisses. “I’m not giving up on this even after what happened earlier”

“You mean how I almost broke your neck?”

“Almost being the key word, baby”

The protest dies in her lips as the kids join you in the kitchen. They set the table for the four of you, doing everything they can to keep you from hurting yourself.

Even as Wanda insists on slicing your portion, you drop the armsling, because you’re very picky about the way you cut your meat.

“Childish” she mutters under her breath and you glare, but smile the same.

Dinner is the usual stuff about classes, the upcoming school trip and how Billy thinks you’re so good with fractions.

They’re in the process of getting ready for bed when you Google the answers to the math exercises, and you’re only wrong twice.

Oh, well.

Once the kids are tucked in, you go back downstairs to clean up, Wanda following suit.

“Please let me”

“Come on, I gotta do something around the house”

“You already helped with Billy’s homework”

“Oh, that. I can’t wait for them to start doing square roots so I’m banging my head against the table”

Wanda laughs at that, settling on the countertop as you wash dishes.

“Yeah, I guess you missed the time where homework was easy. Like coloring, or learning vowels”

“Sounds better than fractions” you recognise.

“Don’t be long” Wanda asks, kissing your cheek and going upstairs.

Your shoulders drop a little, and you eye the armsling, but you’re tired of it and feel like it does more harm than good. Leaving it downstairs, you walk up to find your girlfriend preparing a bath.

“Might help relax” she says, and truthfully, you do feel a lot better when she’s taking off your clothes, hands delicately going over your skin. As she walks behind you to place a small kiss in your shoulder blade, her hands stops in a spot you’re always trying to hide.

“What happened to you?”

“Car accident” you say, not in the mood to delve deeper. Turning in her embrace, you unbutton her shirt, kissing down the valley of her breasts. Next are her pants, and you look up with a smile, helping her step out of them.

You sit in the bathtub, letting Wanda rest between your legs. Your hand goes up and down her arm, but your mind is elsewhere.

Especifically, in the pain that hasn’t stopped.

What if it’s something serious? What if you need surgery? And can’t do your job ever again?

It’s all you have, it’s who you are. You don’t know yourself outside of an OR, outside of grueling shifts and hospital walls.

“Can I ask you something?” Wanda interrupts your spiraling thoughts.

“I do think you’re the most beautiful woman on the planet” you say, kissing the spot between her neck and shoulder.

“No, it’s… uh” she hesitates, looking at her hands. “Did you ever think about having children of your own?”

“Oh” you say, frowning. “I don’t know, honestly. I guess all I ever figured out was what I wanted to be, you know? And it’s so demanding that I never thought I’d be a good mother”

“I just… talking about those early years. I love my kids but I don’t know if I’d do it again, start over with a new baby”

“I’m not holding my breath for that, sweetheart” you promise, kissing her temple. “And I’m a workaholic so it wouldn’t be fair to put you through it so you’re alone for a big part of the time”

“Are you sure? If it’s something you want, I can…” she turns around in your embrace, the water splasing a little. “I can try, maybe it’ll be nice”

“I love the way things are” you promise her, looking distractedly at her breasts. “Especially right now. Can you sit closer so I can pay attention to those two?”

“You’re incorrigible” she laughs, her hands going around your neck.

“And yet, you love it”

—

It was hard to sleep with the shooting pain down your arm, but you refused to take anything for it.

By the time you got some rest it was almost 4 AM, so you completely missed breakfast and driving the kids to school.

Probably for the best, since you’re in a foul mood.

“Hey, I have a meeting with Laura. Wanna come with?” Wanda says when you walk downstairs, changed into jeans and a t-shirt.

“Can you drop me off at the hospital?”

“Sweetheart, I know it’s driving you insane but you can’t go to work right now”

“It’s not… that” you say, struggling with your words. You’re so used to solving everything on your own, it’s hard to share that you have any discomfort.

When you were younger, it added to your mother’s stress because she had other things to deal with, so it only made everything worse at home.

“Are you ok?” Wanda asks softly, finally noticing the bags under your eyes.

“I’m just in pain and would like to check everything’s fine”

“Why didn’t you tell me? We should have gone to the hospital as soon as…”

“Wands” you say, overwhelmed at how much she cares. You pull her close, kissing her softly, and she melts against your lips. “It’s nothing serious, promise”

“Ok. Let’s get going, then”

She insists on going with you, but the meeting with Laura is happening, so you just convince her to pick you up as soon as it’s over.

Greeting the people at the front desk, you walk to the staff area, looking for any familiar faces. It’s empty, so the next place is the ER. The sound and rustling make you nostalgic, and there’s gotta be something really wrong with you, because it’s been five days only.

“Can I help you?” Darcy says behind you.

“Looking for a leprechaun”

“I have not missed you” she remarks, and you wanna say something back, but then you notice your ER board.

“Uh, what the hell did you do to my board?”

“It’s color coded!”

“This is an ER! Not arts and crafts, Lewis” you say, feeling like your heart is breaking at the sight.

“Fury likes it”

“Fury can go to… oh, hello, sir” you say, and he glares at you.

“You’re supposed to be resting”

“I have some pain… wanted to check with Carol if everything’s ok”

“Danvers is in the middle of surgery. Will be an hour or so before she’s free” he explains. “How bad is it?”

“A four, maybe” you lie, and he still looks concerned, because in all the years you’ve worked here, you never get sick or complain if you have anything bothering you.

“Get a CT, I’ll go tell her you’re here” he instructs, patting your good shoulder.

Darcy walks with you to get the CT, and once you’re done you both go to the cafeteria.

“Hey, you didn’t bring any cookies” Darcy complains as you pick up a muffin.

“Wasn’t planning on stopping by”

“How’s domestic life? You ready to retire?”

“It’s fine” you say with a smile, but as always, she can see through the bullshit.

“You look miserable. So, you’re either in a lot of pain or there’s something else”

“I just… feel bad that I don’t know how to rest. You know? I’m a workaholic, and Wanda knows it, but it used to be nice to get breaks and spend time with her and the kids. And now, I should just be relaxing and enjoying this time off but I’m so restless. And I wonder if I’m good for them. If I’ll enjoy going on holidays and spending a few days without work or I’ll promise to be there for something and then let work get in the way”

“Ok, first of all. Every surgeon is a workaholic, you know it. This was the only way we could survive and get as far as we did. But you’re acting as if you’re on an indefinite break. Your CT looks fine. In a week you’ll be back”

“Right. It was just so unexpected…”

“You’ve been working less, haven’t you? Spending more time with Wanda and her kids. That’s a major change. So don’t worry about still loving your job and wanting to do it. It’s who you are. And if Wanda loves you she’ll understand”

"Well, good thing she seems to be done having kids, too” you scratch your neck, thinking about last night’s conversation.

“I thought you wanted kids” your friend frowns.

“I never made up my mind… but if she says she’s done, it’s done”

“Interesting…” Darcy holds her chin, examining you. “I do remember you having baby fever when you did your Peeds rounds”

“Ages ago” you insist, smiling. You were good and you almost decided to focus in that area. But Trauma was always where your passion was.

Darcy’s pager beeps and you look at her with some jealousy, wishing you had somewhere to be.

“Gotta go. Danvers should be done soon. Chill, watch some tv, you’ll be back in no time”

“Thanks, mate. And I know, I’ll ask Wanda for some cookies”

You look around the cafeteria, and then wander the hallways. There are a few people in the ER, sitting and waiting for someone to call their names. Without knowing a thing about Darcy’s system, you pick up a file and say a name out loud.

The little guilt you feel at working when you’re clearly not supposed to is quickly forgotten as you help several people, looking at their X-Rays and writing prescriptions, the armsling tossed away.

That is, until you hear someone calling you across the room.

“Y/N Y/L/N” Wanda hisses. “What do you think you’re doing?”

You squeal, hiding behind a curtain. She pulls it and grabs the file from your hands.

“Did Doctor Danvers see you yet?

“She was in surgery and I was bored!” you complain like a little child.

“We’re finding her and then going home”

Doing all but pulling you by the ear, Wanda drags you around the front desk and asks for Carol, the nurses hiding a smile as you remain in the background, silent.

They tell Wanda that Carol will be in a few minutes, and you wait in one of the examination rooms, you sitting in the bed dangling your feet while Wanda answers an email from Laura.

“How did the meeting go?” you try to make ammends.

“Fine”

“Mmm” you nod, thinking it might be better to drop it.

It only gets worse when Carol walks in, thinking you’re the only one in the room.

“How’s it going, Princess?”

Wanda clears her throat, glaring at the blonde and you want to crawl in a hole and die. Not this again.

“Hey, Wanda. Didn’t see you there” she starts speaking in a rush. “What’s the matter? CT looks fine. Except for that horrible surgery they did on you”

“It was twenty years ago, Danvers” you roll your eyes, avoiding Wanda’s inquisitive stare.

“Ok, take your shirt off. O-or not, don’t” she says when Wanda glares.

“Make up your damn mind” you complain, oblivious to everything.

Wanda stands up, looking you in the eye. She smiles, taking your shirt in her hands and pulling it up. Might as well fucked you right then and there, with the way she looks at you.

Maybe it’s not so bad that she’s jealous of Carol.

“There” she says, and all you can do is focus on her lips. She stands back, sitting on the couch and waiting for Carol to examine you.

“The pain has been recurring, right? What changed?”

“It’s more persistent and intense”

“Have you been taking painkillers? Anything else?”

“Nothing, Doc”

Carol sighs.

“We really are the worst patients” she grumbles. “You have nerve damage, we knew that already. The armsling might be making it worse. Use this instead”

She passes a brace that supports your shoulder and allows you to move freely.

“Wooho, this one is way cooler!”

“Wanda, can you make sure she takes these meds? It will help with the swelling” Carol turns to you. “If you rest properly, you can go back to work in ten days”

“Ten days? I want a second opinion”

“A second opinion would be to try surgery and fix that nerve” she says, knowing Stark would agree.

“Fine. Meds and rest” you grumble, putting on the brace.

“One last thing” Carol says and you’re about to ask what is it when she blind sides you, inyecting something on your muscle.

“That’s low even for you” you complain, feeling the burn.

“That will relax you for a few hours, pal”

“Mmm. Thanks, Carol”

“Anytime. Bye, Wanda”

Your girlfriend thanks her, taking your hand and walking you to the exit, hoping you’ll finally get some rest.

“Who did this?” Darcy fumes from the ER and you rush, dragging Wanda.

“Run, now”

For the second time in the day, someone calls you by your full name, this time sounding less forgiving.

“You messed up the system!” Darcy says, watching you run like a coward. “You’re dead to me”

Wanda laughs at that, and you smile, hoping her mood has improved ever since she caught you working.

“Want anything special for lunch?” Wanda asks as she drives back home and you can’t really think of anything.

“Cuddles and a nap with my beautiful girlfriend” you say, feeling the medicine relaxing you. “Damn it, Carol probably gave me a horse tranquilizer”

“That’s what you get for being so stubborn”

“I am not stubborn” you insist, proving her point.

By the time you’re home, your feet feel heavy. Wanda almost has to carry you to the bedroom, where you plop down.

You feel her taking off your shoes and you honestly try to sit up and help, but Carol really outdid herself with whatever it is she gave you.

Lucky she’s a doctor and not a dealer.

“Wands” you mutter.

“Shh, I’m here. Get some rest”

—

Your mouth feels dry, limbs heavy. Like a hangover, but without the fun part.

“M’gonna kill Carol” you sigh, rubbing your eyes. Wanda’s laugh by your side makes you turn and you smile. “Hey, gorgeous”

“Feeling relaxed?”

“Very. I’m just thirsty”

As if she was a mind reader, Wanda nods towards the nighstand next to your side of the bed, where a glass of water is waiting for you.

“You’re so perfect” you say once you gulp it down, breathing and stretching. “Where are the kids?”

“Soccer practice.”

“Oh, sorry about falling asleep. We could have been watching a movie or something” you try to sit up, but Wanda pulls you down, scooting closer to you.

“I just want you to rest”

“I’m not gonna break if I do other stuff”

She doesn’t answer and you lie down, looking at her.

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m sorry” is all she says and you frown. “For everything that happened with Steve”

“You already apologized. It’s in the past”

“I just want to give you everything, and take care of you. I wish I knew how to make you feel better when you’re in pain”

“You’ve been cooking and helping me do everything for the past week, love”

“Anyone could do that”

“No, you’re the only person who could make it all better by just being here” you say, your hand moving the hair out of her eyes. “I’m damn lucky to have you on my side, Wands”

“I… can I ask about the accident? I feel like I know bits and pieces. Though if it’s too painful”

“I was with my Dad” you say, sighing. “Someone else ran a red light and crashed into us. He didn’t make it. It’s just… there’s no point in dwelling on it. It happened, and no amount of grieving can change it. So I don’t”

“Ok”

“I’m not the best person to be with” you admit. “I’m very much addicted to my job, I don’t have a family that is worth talking about. It’s just me, and whatever happens that day in the ER. Maybe that’s why I struggle with being away from the job. There’s nothing else besides that”

“It’s not just you, not anymore. You have us” Wanda promises, kissing your hand. You smile, nodding.

“I know. I love you”

“Love you too.”

—

You finally found some things to do. Wanda would give you drafts to read, surprised at how good your literary insights were.

“Laura might have competition” she joked once.

As for other forms of entertainment, you were currently picking up on your Project Runway obsession even though you were just rewatching season 8, arguably one of the most dramatic ones.

The arm was a lot better and the pain subsided, which was great news. On the other hand, Carol would never shut up about being the best Ortho surgeon in the whole country.

Still, there was one thing you were hoping to do, taking advantage of all the hours you had alone with Wanda.

Thinking it would be better to just catch her off guard, you were in bed, reading another one of her drafts when she came by the room, stretchig her back.

“Tired, my love?” you say with a sympathetic smile.

“A tiny bit. I was thinking we could get pizza tonight? I’m not in the mood for cooking”

“I’m paying for it”

“You’re paying for groceries and everything else these days” she protests.

“What can I tell you? I like to spoil my girl”

Wanda blushes at that, straddling your lap and leanig down to kiss you. You smile, eager to feel her lips on yours, but also, anticipating her reaction as she feels what’s hidden in your pants.

The way she gasps against your mouth sends a shiver down your spine.

“What are you…?”

Your good arm wraps around her waist, making her rub against the strap on.

“A surprise for you” you say, your nose against her neck, leaving open mouthed kisses. “Unless you don’t want to try it. We can just forget about it”

“No, I- but your arm”

“Well, you could be a good girl and ride my dick” you half joke, not expecting the words to have such an impact on her. Before you can react, she’s reaching down between your bodies.

“I wanna see you” she asks, out of breath. You let her pull your pants down, revealing the harness briefs you’re wearing and the plastic cock attached to them.

“What do you think?” you say, one of your thumbs traveling to her mouth, and she eagerly accepts the intrusion, sucking on your finger. She bites it as you pull out, pupils dilated.

Operating on her desires, Wanda moves down your body, until she’s eye level with the strap. Even though you can’t feel it, the sight of her tongue darting out to lick the tip makes your hips buck, pushing inside without a warning.

But she’s a good girl, and takes it all with enthusiasm, her hands on your hips as you fuck her mouth. The friction against your clit makes your breath quicken, and aware that Wanda’s gagging, you stop moving, pulling her away by the hair.

“Show me how good you can take it, baby” you say, smiling. Wanda doesn’t waste any time, discarding her own pants and placing both hands on the side of your face.

You move your hips up a couple of times, teasing her entrance, until you pull her hips down, and you have to look down, admiring the way her hole swallows every inch, Wanda’s face contorted by pleasure.

Once you bottom out, you give her a few seconds to adjust, and only move when she rocks forward, moaning at the way it feels to be so full.

“Look at you, made to take my cock. Fits so fucking perfectly inside that tight cunt” you taunt, squeezing her neck.

Wanda clenches as you choke her, overwhelmed by all the pleasure she’s feeling.

“Come on, fuck yourself on my dick” you challenge, and she begins moving, slow at first, and then faster, her hips finding a rhytm as you let go of her neck, hand going down to pinch her nipples.

The touch catches her off guard, and she somehow changes positions in your lap, the strap going deeper and hitting just the right spot.

“Oh, God…” she mutters, losing herself in the feeling of being full, riding you as your hands roam around every inch of her beautiful body. “I’m close, please”

“Please, what?”

“Please, make me come” she stutters, her hips moving erratically as she approaches her climax. You let your hand travel down, and as you play with Wanda’s clit, the woman lets out a moan, juices spilling down her legs and between your bodies.

Wanda collapses on top of you, breathing heavily. You wait until she calms down to pull out, trying to do it without hurting her.

“Stay inside” she pleads, and the desperation in her words makes you want to fuck her again.

“You did so good, baby” you smile against her temple. “Just relax, I got you”

—-

You had created a horny, hot, insatiable being.

Whenever you were alone in the house, you were usually packing because Wanda would just barge into the room, kiss you like she was running out of time, and then would just push her underwear aside, moaning and panting until she was satisfied. She went at it two or three times each day, even at night though you had to be quiet to not wake up the twins.

How you loved being used for her pleasure, and watch as she was all disheveled when she came, breathing against your neck and repeating how much she loved you and how much she needed you.

Once, you are almost caught by Agatha. This time, you initiate it, approaching Wanda as she makes lunch in the kitchen. Your arm snakes around her middle, hand going up and down until you pinch her nipple through the fabric of her t-shirt. When Wanda arches her back, her ass rubs against the strap, and she moans, allowing you to take her from behind.

“Look at you, taking me so fucking well” you say, spanking her. She moans against her arm, enjoying the new angle and the way your hands grab handfuls of her ass, the soft flesh turning red.

 In that precise moment, there’s a knock at the door. You turn at the same time, and while Wanda seems to be trying to gather her thoughts, you keep pushing inside of her.

“Wanda, are you home?” Agatha says.

“Go on, answer her. Tell her you’re getting fucked from behind, baby” you taunt, determined to make her come.

“If she sees us…”

“Better hurry then” you mutter, hips moving faster until you feel Wanda’s legs shake, hand over her mouth to keep her from screaming.

You pull out, and force Wanda on her knees. She can’t stand up, as Agatha looks through the window, waving at you. The lower half of your body is hidden by the countertop.

“Do you have any eggs I can borrow?”

“We’re out of those” you lie, moving your hips forward until Wanda gets the hint and licks the strap clean. “I’m going to the store later today, I’ll get some extra for you”

“You’re such a dear. Is Wanda working?”

“Oh, yes. She’s hard at work” you say, smiling.

“If you ever feel lonely, come by and visit me, dear” the woman winks, turning to leave. You keep Wanda in place, fucking her mouth until the pressure on your clit makes you get some release.

“I’m not done with you” you say, pulling her up. “It’s a damn shame you couldn’t be as loud as you wanted before”

Wanda looks confused, or maybe it’s the orgasm she just had. Either way, you guide her upstairs, and she quickly gets on all fours, ass up in the air again.

“Better be screaming my name when I’m done with you”

Of course she did. And you’re pretty sure those screams could be heard all the way to Agatha’s house.

—

“I’m gonna be late for work” you say, not really caring. Wanda’s on your lap, grinding against you. There’s nothing under your scrubs today, because, well, it would be awkward to work while packing all day.

Who knew you’d end up wanting more free time, and all because Wanda can’t go five minutes without getting fucked.

“I’m gonna miss you” she whines, biting down on your earlobe and you moan.

“Baby, you’re not playing fair”

Maybe calling in sick won’t be such a bad idea. Your colleagues will understand. It’s not like they’ve been covering for you for two weeks.

Right.

“I have to go” you sigh against her lips, searching her eyes. You hope she can understand.

“I know, I’m sorry”

Wanda smiles and the way she runs her hands down your cheeks melts your heart.

“I love you. Thank you for helping me heal these past weeks. And I’m sorry for being so difficult at times, my love. I’ll make it up to you”

“I love you too” she smiles, leaning her forehead against yours.

With that, you get ready to drive to the hospital. You’re still wearing the brace Carol gave you, more as a precaution. Wanda also gives you a whole batch of cookies and you suspect Darcy will steal most of it.

You say goodbye at the front door, promising to call her when you have time.

“Welcome back, doctor Y/L/N”

Kate Bishop is the first to greet you, waiting in the ER.

“Thank you, Kate. Did I miss anything big these past few days?”

While you go over some files, she makes the rounds on patients that have been here for the past days and are getting discharged soon.

You go back to the ER to review paperwork and she sticks around, which seems weird.

“Shouldn’t you be around the halls to see if you can scrub in on something?”

“Uh…”

“Look, if they told you to babysit me, don’t worry about it. I can handle this alone”

“That’s not… remember how I hadn’t made up my mind about a specialty? Well, I did. I want to be a Trauma surgeon” she smiles, hoping you’re happy about it.

“Wow! Congrats, Bishop” you can’t help but bring her in for a hug. “Everyone else had their student, but me”

“Well, you have yours now. I can’t wait to learn, Sir. Ma’am. Doctor” Kate stumbles with her words and you pat her back.

That very second, two people walk in, screaming something about their Halloween decoration and a freak accident.

“Let the lessons begin, kid”

And so, you spend the better part of the shift stabilizing a patient and working with Stark to stop a brain bleeding from a falling pumpkin.

“It’s that time of year again” he says, and you sigh.

“What is?” Peter looks around the table.

“You wouldn’t believe the amount of freak accidents when holidays are around” Stark says. “Well, Dr. Y/L/N knows better than me, she’s the one treating everything”

“Cuts while carving pumpkins, blazing Jack-O-Lanterns, food allergies for kids”

“Tripping with their too long ghost costumes” Stark adds. “Learn that the hard way with Morgan”

“Gotta warn Wanda about that” you grimace.

“Ah, yes, the missus” Stark says, and you can’t see a lot of his face but you can tell by his tone that he is ready to tease you.

“Careful, Doctor Stark”

“I’m just saying, everyone thinks it’s cute. Morgan loves her and their art lessons too. Plus, it’s nice to see a doctor dating someone outside of the hospital. I’m so done with all the hook ups, it’s nearly impossible to find an on call room to rest”

“You own the hospital, can’t you do something about the rooms?”

“Not without causing a meltdown for HR” he says and you both chuckle.

“It is nice to be with someone who thinks you’re crazy for wanting to be working for two straight days. Gives you perspective”

“Precisely” Stark agrees. “Well, Peter can close him up”

“Meet you back at the ER, doctor Bishop”

You nod, going to the scrub room to wash your hands.

“Carol told me about your little nerve thing”

“Of course she did”

“There’s a great chance for the procedure to work, it’s also non invasive. Recovery time is…”

“I’ll think about it. But it hasn’t been bothering me anymore. Maybe it was just the shoulder injury”

“Yeah, maybe. But you know how it is. Wouldn’t you want to be completely sure you’ll be fine holding your baby one day?”

“Wanda is done having kids so that’s not a particular concern of mine” you say in an even tone.

“Really? With the way she looks at you, it almost seems like she wants you to knock her up”

“Tony” you elbow him, and he cackles.

“Just saying. Your kids would be cute”

“Are you having baby fever and trying to drag me with you?” you raise an eyebrow.

“Maybe” he winks as you leave the scrub room.

Still, the conversation leaves you thinking about Wanda and as soon as you’re out of the OR you call her.

“You’re on speaker, my love” she says, making you smile.

You can hear Billy and Tommy rushing to her side, speaking over each other.

“Woah, woah, one at a time”

“I got an A in my Science paper!”

“I scored a goal in practice”

“Way to go, kiddos. Can’t wait to hear all about it”

“We miss you” Tommy says, which makes you strangely emotional.

You never had someone say that to you.

“Miss you too” you admit.

“Go wash your hands, say bye to Y/N” Wanda waits a little and then talks to you again. “You’re still on speaker because I’m finishing dinner”

“No dirty talk, got it” you chuckle.

“How’s the day so far?”

“Oh, we had a freak accident with Halloween decoration which reminds me, don’t put anything until I’m there to help?”

“Ok, I won’t” she agrees.

“And Kate, you remember her? She’s a resident and today she told me she wants to be a Trauma surgeon so I guess I am officially her teacher”

“Congratulations, she got the best one”

“Yeah, it’s just a lot of responsibility, I guess” you chew on your lip, thinking about everything you’ll have to teach her. It’s not just the medical side, it’s about handling the stress and the pressure of helping people in the worst situations.

“I’m sure you’ll do great” Wanda says, knowing your sudden silence means you are overthinking. “Is the shoulder ok? Promise me you’ll eat something and get some rest”

Your pager interrupts the moment and Wanda groans.

“I’m afraid I can’t keep that promise, love of my life. Will talk to you later”

“Love you”

“Love you too”

Kate meets you in the ER and you’re suddenly dealing with a car accident and four patients, two of them children.

“Page Maria and Carol, this is gonna be a long night”

“And my shift is just starting” Darcy says behind you and you turn, excited to see your best friend.

“Missed me?”

“Not a bit”

But you know she’s full of it. You scrub in together, and she updates you on all the gossip you missed, using codenames no one else knows about.

“Did you hear Doctor Bishop is my new apprentice?” you say when you let her close the patient.

“Congrats, you finally got a minion”

“Wanna get one for you?”

“Ugh, no, you gotta water them twice a week and it’s too much trouble. I’m fine just being an attending” she rolls her eyes.

You’re about to go on a lecture about the importance of teaching and mentoring when Kate curses, and the patient begins to crash.

“Move” you say, stepping in to check what’s wrong.

“See?” Darcy says.

Though Kate didn’t do anything wrong, you ended up an hour more in the OR to make sure everything was ok.

When you’re done it’s close to dawn and you’re exhausted. Darcy finds an empty room and you plop down in one of the beds, sighing. It’s too early to call Wanda. You remove the brace to rest your shoulder.

“Do you think people ever considered we were hooking up?” you ask your friend, remembering the conversation with Stark. It’s just a funny thought, but Darcy let’s out a groan.

“Ugh, I hope not”

“Excuse me?” you sit up. “It sounds like you’re offended by the idea”

“You’re just not my type”

“So hot and successful is not your type?”

“You’re too tall!” she shouts.

“You’re too small!” you say, turning around so she only sees your back. “Garden gnome”

“Big foot” she whispers and you both laugh.

—

“Wanda, baby” you moan, kissing the… pillow?

Your pager wakes you up, and you look around the room, confused.

“I’m trying to sleep” Darcy complains.

“So was I” you say, checking your phone. It’s nothing related to the ER, so you go to the room where you’re called to.

“How can I help...” you walk into the room, and are surprised to see Wanda sitting in the bed. “Baby, hey! Wait, are you ok? Did you hurt yourself?”

“I’m fine” she says, appreciating your concern. Still, you check every inch of her body, hands holding her face gently. “I drove Agatha here”

“Why?” you frown.

“She cut herself while carving out a pumpkin”

“Halloween is always like this. I hate it” you mumble, and Wanda laughs.

“Don’t be such a party pooper. What’s wrong with dressing up and getting candy?”

“Trust me, spend a night in the ER with people who thought it would be a good idea to bring a real chainsaw to a party and you’ll agree with me”

“Well, I’ll have to change your mind about it” Wanda bites her lip, pulling you closer. “Maybe wear something real nice to cheer you up”

“I’m listening” you say, moaning against her mouth when she finally closes the distance. God, you forgot how good it feels to have her in your arms. “I should go check on Agatha”

“Your little student is taking care of her. Plus, I have a few symptoms of my own I’d like to ask about”

“Ok, what is it?”

“I have heart palpitations… and something like a flutter in my stomach. It’s hard to focus sometimes, too”

“When does this happen?” you play along, smiling as Wanda pulls you in between her legs.

“When I'm thinking about my girlfriend fucking me real hard”

“Babe” you sigh against her lips.

“Nu-uh. You’re working” she smiles, happy to see you so worked up.

“Mean”

Wanda laughs against your temple, her hands running up and down your arms.

“When does your shift end?”

“Tomorrow morning. Which would give me enough time to get ready for Laura’s party”

“You remembered” Wanda says, shocked.

“Well, yeah”

“I told you a month ago”

“And I wrote it down so I didn’t forget. You told me it was important for me to be there” you smile, unaware of the impact a little gesture like that could have in Wanda.

“I changed my mind, I need you to fuck me here”

You open and close your mouth a few times, looking at the door and then at Wanda. Yeah, you’d be crazy to let that chance slip.

Undoing the butto of her jeans, your hand moves as much as possible in the confined space, rubbing her clit through her underwear until Wanda is panting against your ear.

The woman finishes with a groan that you muffle with your lips, worried someone might come in.

Still, when you both leave the room, a bit disheveled and blushing, Stark glares and you wink.

“At least it’s not an on call room, Tony”

Wanda follows you to the ER, where Kate is finishing with Agatha’s stitches.

“Took your sweet time, Wanda” Agatha says, and you try to hide your smile.

“Sorry, that was my fault. But I’m here now and I’ll make sure everything is fine. Nice work, Doctor Bishop. Mrs. Harkness is a vital member of our community”

“Oh, darling, aren’t you a dear?” Agatha laughs, patting your arm. “Careful, Wanda, I might steal her from you”

You’re pretty sure Wanda’s response is not gonna be a nice one, but then you’re interrupted by the forensic that works at the morgue.

“Yo, Y/L/N. Can I get your name here?” Rio asks, her tone even and deadpan expression making her look bored, as usual.

“Sure, Death. There ya go”

Rio looks at Agatha for a second too long and then smiles to herself.

“I love to play with knives too” the brunette says, winking at your neighbour.

Wanda and you share a look, as if you’re wondering if Rio is the answer to all your problems.

“Who was that?” Agatha says, enthranced.

“Rio Vidal. We call her Death because she’s at the morgue, doing autopsies. Seems like she likes you”

“Could I… can you give her my phone number?”

“Oh, yeah. I’ll go straight to the morgue and make sure she has it, Agatha” you promise.

Once Kate finishes with closing the wound, Agatha tells Wanda they better go, so you’re free to find Rio.

“See you in 24 hours, my beautiful girlfriend” you promise, kissing Wanda.

“Lovebirds, wrap it up. Vámonos”

“Ugh” Wanda rolls her eyes. Maybe she liked Agatha better when she pretended to be nice to you to upset her.

“Smile, darling. Let’s hope Rio keeps her busy for the next few weeks”

“Or centuries” Wanda jokes and you laugh, kissing her softly.

—

A 48 hour shift when you just got back to work was not your best idea. As you park in your driveway, you text Wanda to let her know you’ll shower and rest a bit before you leave at noon.

You almost fall asleep standing in the shower, but snap out of it and clean yourself up so you can get a nap.

Once you wake up, it’s a little before noon so you get some time to change into pants, a t-shirt and sneakers.

“Well, hello there” you admire Wanda’s figure in a sundress. “Am I underdressed?”

“It’s a barbecue, baby, you’re fine” she smiles, pulling you inside and cornering you against the door. “Missed you”

“Missed you too” you sigh against her lips.

“Mom, have you seen my shoes?” Tommy says from upstairs and you laugh.

It takes the twins a couple more minutes to get ready, but once they go down and see you, they’re both buzzing with excitement.

The whole car ride is spent asking them questions about their day. As soon as you park, though, they are out the door, eager to greet Cooper and Lila.

You carry the pie Wanda made and put it on a table full of food.

“Wow, it’s kinda nice to live outside the city” you say admiring the entire property. Wanda had told you they lived in a farm, but you thought it was a figure of speech. “Maybe we need to get something like this, babe”

“Wanda, glad you could make it. You must be Y/N” a brunette approaches you, and you squeeze her hand.

“Nice you meet you, Laura”

“I hear you already know my husband”

“Yeah, we’ve had our share of work stuff” you nod, hand going to your shoulder.

As if on cue, Clint shows up holding a baby that is getting restless.

“Sweetheart, did you feed Nathaniel? Oh, hey Wanda. Y/N”

“I just fed him. Can you take care of him for a bit? I gotta make the mashed potatoes”

“Why don’t I…” you suggest when the baby starts crying. His eyes widen at the shift and then stares at you. Holding your breath, you expect him to begin hollering but he just laughs, curious about your hair. “There we go”

“Oh, wow. Wanda, you should have mentioned this sooner” Laura says, amazed at how Nathaniel seems to be so at ease with you.

“Come on, little prince. Let’s walk around the party for a bit. Say bye to Mom and Dad”

“I’ll catch you later, gotta help Laura for a bit” Wanda says, finding it hard to look away from you.

“Ok, darling” you say, balancing Nathaniel in your arms.

You walk around the Barton’s property, waving at the twins and their friends. Nathaniel bounces around in your arms, wanting to play with his siblings.

“What are you up to, kiddos?”

“We’re gonna play hide and seek. Wanna join us?” Billy says.

“Gotta look out for Nathaniel, but enjoy”

Across the field, some of Clint’s friends are playing soccer. Nathaniel seems interested in the ball, so you stand on the edge and let him follow it with his eyes. At one point, one of the guys throws it your way by accident and you’re able to stop it with your foot, without dropping Nathaniel.

There’s a chorus of whistles and one of the man approaches.

“Hey, you must be the cutest babysitter I’ve seen”

“I’m a guest of Clint and Laura” you say, ignoring his advances. “And you are a hazard to babies. Goodbye”

Wanda is following your every move from the kitchen, and she’s reluctant to admit that the image of you holding a baby so confidently is doing things to her.

“There are kids present” Laura teases and she laughs.

“Is it that obvious?”

“Can’t say that I blame you. She looks good with a baby”

“Yeah, but… I don’t know, we talked about it and she seemed to be indifferent to the idea. Or maybe it was because I tried to brush it off” Wanda sighs, cutting up more fruit. Truth is, she did wonder what it would be like, to have a partner that was with her every step of the way.

She loved her boys, but she had done everything on her own. Sometimes Pietro and her parents would help, but she didn’t have a spouse that would be her companion in every sense of the word.

“Well, I don’t think she’s completely convinced about it either” Laura points your way, and you’re making Nathaniel giggle with silly faces.

“Diaper change” you announce a moment later; walking to the living room. “I can do it”

“Thanks, you’re a sweetheart” Laura says, pointing at the diapers and wipes. Wanda takes a break from the cooking, to check if you need any help.

To her surprise, you’re changing the diaper expertly. In one swift motion, it’s all done and cleaned. Your girlfriend joins in, talking to Nathaniel while her hand runs up and down your back.

“We’re missing a player, wanna join us?” Clint calls from the door. Wanda takes Nathaniel from your arms, and you kiss her cheek.

When you walk to the field, the same man that spoke to you before approaches.

“Hey, we got off on the wrong foot. I’m Sam Wilson” you arch an eyebrow, staying silent. “Come on, can I at least get your name?”

“I’m Y/N”

“Ok, Y/N. Why don’t we make it interesting? If I score a goal, I can ask you something about yourself”

“Well, what do I get if I score?” you say, smiling.

“Whatever you want, gorgeous”

You look around the field, spotting Lila playing with some nail polish.

“Lila gets to do your nails”

“Alright. Let’s go”

It’s funny, how Sam and his team think they have to go easy on you. It takes them two goals to catch up and realise they’re not letting you win.

You’re making them lose big time.

Throwing some turns and dribbles, you make Sam lose his footing, jumping over him to kick the ball one last time and score another goal.

“That’s three versus zero, Sam” you pat his back.

“One last shot” he says. You roll your eyes, too tired to argue with him. This time, you run around with the ball but do a simple kick that he can intercept.

“Yes. Goal!” he stops mid dance to turn to you. “My question is, do you have a boyfriend?”

“Nope” you answer, smiling as you can see Wanda approaching you. She walks past Sam, jumping into your arms and putting her legs around your waist. She kisses you, groaning against your mouth when you bite her bottom lip.

“She does, however, have a girlfriend” Wanda says, getting down. “Food’s ready”

“I’m starving” you say, letting Wanda pull you to the table, leaving Sam behind, confused and exhausted.

—

It was a wonderful party. There was plenty of food, playing and cleaning to do. In the end, the twins wanted to stay over to play with the Barton children.

Laura said it would be no trouble, and you voluntereed to pick them all up the next day to go to the movies or anything else.

“Had the best time today” you say, stretching in Wanda’s bed. She stays silent for a second and you sit up. “Everything ok?”

“Yeah, I’m just…” she interrupts her beauty routine to turn and look at you. “Would it be a mistake to tell you that maybe, I still want to have another baby?”

“Am I that irresistible holding a toddler?” you wiggle your eyebrows and Wanda let’s out a laugh, relieved that you’re not freaked out by what she just said. You stand up, kneeling in front of her. “I think having a little baby girl that looks like you would be the best thing ever. I also know having a kid involves a lot of changes and planning. But I can’t think of anyone better to do it with”

“So… why don’t we just leave that door open?” Wanda says, looking at her lap where your hands are clasped together. “For now”

“Yes, my love” you nod, kissing the tip of her nose. You’re about to stand up when she pulls you down by your shirt, this time in a rougher kiss.

“I got us something” she says, breathing heavily.

“Oh?”

“We don’t have to use it if you don’t want to”

“Now I really need to know what it is, Wanda” you say, the exhaustion of the past days leaving your body at the idea of having sex with your girlfriend.

“Get in bed and close your eyes”

You nod, excitedly waiting for her to reveal what she got. You hear her drawer open and close, and your heart beats faster.

“Ok” she says, and as you open your eyes you don’t notice anything different, until you look at her hand.

“Oh” you pick up the strap, arching an eyebrow.

“It’s a…”

“I know what it is” you say with a smile, checking that it is indeed hollow. Out of curiosity, you squeeze it and a stream of lube shoots out of the tip. “Shit. Sorry, love. I’ll last longer next time”

“You’re an idiot” she laughs, hiding her face in her hands.

“So, wanna try it?”

“I do, yeah… uh, it’s a fantasy of mine to feel you, as if, finishing inside. I mean, I know it’s just something different but… yeah” she turns red, looking between you and the strap.

“No need to feel ashamed, my darling. I like to be tied up, if you want us to share some kinks”

“That would be amazing” she says, a little out of breath. “But if we do all of that, I might not survive, so, just one thing at a time?”

“Of course” you smile, placing the strap on the nighstand. “Come here”

You let Wanda sit on your lap, and you begin to kiss her, taking your time and alternating between running your tongue down her lip and letting it explore the inside of her mouth.

“This toy is a bit bigger than what we’ve used before, so why don’t I… get you nice and ready, huh?” you whisper hotly, pulling her underwear to the side. Without waiting for an answer, you collect Wanda’s juices in your fingers, prodding at her entrance and stretching her. When you bring a finger to your mouth and suck, Wanda’s mouth opens, hypnotized by your movement. “Lie on your back and get that dress off. I wanna taste that pussy”

She doesn’t need to be told twice, and you watch with a smile as she discards the dress, waiting in her matching lace set.

“What a good girl” you purr, crawling until you’re close to her center. You kiss the inside of her thighs, and then pull down her panties, slick coating the fabric.

Wanda arches her back when she feels your mouth on her cunt, holding your head in place. You let her dig her nails in your scalp, moving against your face until you have her arousal on your chin and lips.

“Feeling ready to take my cock?” you say, standing up to take off your clothes. Wanda is so worked up that she barely listens to you, watching as you adjust the strap around your hips.

Before you can get back to bed, Wanda leans forward, licking the shaft.

“Fuck” you say, admiring how the cock disappears inside her mouth, and she looks so pleased licking it that you’re tempted to squeeze and have the lube run down her throat.

Maybe later, you decide when she breaks apart, gasping for air.

“I’m not waiting any longer to be buried inside you” you say, pushing her so she’s on her back again. “Ready?”

“Please, just fuck me already” she says, canting her hips up.

“So desperate. And all just so you can have my cum inside you, is that right?” you taunt, letting the tip in and watching for any sign of discomfort.

Wanda bites her lip and the way she looks at you makes your hips jerk, introducing more of the toy. The woman moans, her nails digging in your sides.

“That’s it” she sighs, while you move in and out, starting a slow and steady ryhtm. You lift her legs and put them over your shoulders, going deeper and hitting that perfect spot that makes her see stars.

“Harder, I want you to fuck me so hard”

“How hard, huh?” your hand goes to her neck and you squeeze. Wanda moans your name, enjoying the pressure. “Want me to come inside you?”

“Yes, please fill me up”

“So pretty when you beg” you mutter, pounding harder and letting the hand that was chocking her travel to her nipples. You pinch one and then the other, enjoying Wanda’s sensitivity.

As you change your angle, Wanda’s legs squeeze you, pulling you closer. You thrust harder, erratically, knowing you’re close and so is she.

“Wanna get you nice and full”

“Fuck, yes” Wanda cries out, biting the spot between your shoulder and neck. “I’m gonna…”

As soon as she says those words, your hand travels between your bodies, squeezing the strap on so it can shoot the load inside of her.

Wanda lets out a loud moan at the feeling, pulling you until you can’t hold yourself up, collapsing on top of her.

For a few minutes, all that can be heard is your heavy breathing. Once you come to your senses, you move to the side. While Wanda is still trying to recover, you look down, clenching at the mess between your bodies.

“Give me a second and we can…” Wanda says, coming back to her senses. You smile, kissing her softly.

“Take your time. I’m not going anywhere”

Once her breathing evens out, she scoots closer, hiding in your arms.

“Was it good? We appreciate honest feedback here”

Wanda laughs, kissing your neck.

“It was so good I think I might be pregnant”

“Well” you say, rolling so Wanda’s on top now. “That will be one beautiful baby”

—

This has been the best night of your life. You’re usually quiet when having sex, because you never have the house to yourselves. After that, you cuddle and call it a night.

Not this night, though. You had been at it for a couple of hours when you got hungry, so now you’re having a midnight snack, Wanda wearing your shirt and you in the usual tank top.

“Food’s almost ready” Wanda says.

"While we wait, let's..." you trail off, playing some music.

I used to love like a lovesick puppy Loving on anyone who'd throw me a bone I didn't care if they weren't good for me 'Cause it was better than being alone

“What are you doing?” Wanda asks with a smile when you reach out for her hand.

“Can I have this dance?”

“I’m a terrible dancer” she warns you, but you shrug your shoulders.

“You’re not wearing heels right now, so we’re safe. Come on, I’ll lead”

Without waiting for her reply, your hands go around her waist. Wanda puts her arms over your shoulders, letting you sway her to the music.

Now I've grown up to be a pretty cool person Loving myself and I know my worth I think I'm ready to find my person 'Cause I won't accept less than I deserve

“I’m not looking for a girlfriend, I’m looking for a wife” you sing, making Wanda laugh.

“Is this you proposing?”

“What? Nu-uh. When I do it, it’s gonna be awesome. And unexpected. But mostly awesome”

“When you propose? You thought about it”

“I’m here for the long run, baby”

Wanda smiles, leaning against your chest, while you keep rocking gently to the music.

“I love you”

“Love you too, Wanda”

Ooweeoowee My emergency contact Want a love like that No sweat 'cause I know you've got my back Ooweeoowee My emergency contact Want a love like that, want a love like that

A/N: Song is Emergency Contact by Corook. Please listen to all her music.

Last year I told you all to listen to Chappell Roan and none of you did and LOOK WHERE WE ARE NOW

[yandere-daydreams]

Screening: Invasion of the Body Snatchers (1978).

Pairing: Yandere!Carlisle Cullen x Reader (Twilight).

Word Count: 2.1k.

TW: Wildly Unbalanced Power Dynamics, Medical Malpractice, Blood, Controlling Behavior, Deliberate Social Isolation, Misuse of Prescription Drugs, and Generalized Twilight. Dead Dove: Do Not Eat.

It might’ve just been the isolation getting to you, but you were starting to think that your doctor wasn’t completely human.

Not that you’d ever say so out loud. At best, it was awful thing to think about a man who’d only ever been kind to you and, at worst, it proved yet another symptom to your ever-developing, ever-worsening illness had cropped up and would need further treatment to correct. You knew better than to say things that would make you seem more sick than you already were, but it was hard to stop yourself from lingering on the idea – especially considering you only had books, sleep, and his company to pass the endless time. Admittedly, it’d been a while since you’d seen another person, but you could’ve sworn he was paler than he should’ve been, to the point of bloodlessness. He never ate or drank around you, but sometimes when he spoke, the light would catch on his teeth in a way that made them look too sharp, too prominent. You might’ve been dreaming, but once, after you took your medicine but just before you fell asleep, you swore you saw him taking the cap off of the blood sample he’d taken a few minutes prior, like he planned to do something aside from—

You heard a door open and instantly, your paranoia was dismissed in favor of more interesting stimuli. In this case, that came in the form of your doctor, Carlisle Cullen, stepping into your bedroom, an inhumanly perfect smile already painted across his inhumanly perfect lips.

…maybe you should tell somebody about your little conspiracy. If only to be absolutely sure that you were really losing your mind.

“Good morning,” he said, and it occurred to you that you hadn’t thought to check the time, yet. Your life existed in three states: alone, asleep, and with Carlisle. Only that last one really mattered – the other two could easily be lumped into the same category helpfully labeled ‘waiting for Carlisle’s next visit’. “Have you been keeping yourself busy?”

“I’ve only been awake for a couple hours,” you explained, shrugging as he took his usual seat in the chair left next to your bed. He was always polite enough to ask about the boring details of your day, and you were always embarrassed enough to skirt around just how little you had the energy for. Most of the time, it was all you could do to pull yourself out of bed and yourself to eat before retreating back into your little safe haven. On a good day, you’d be able to go for a walk, maybe respond to a few of the calls you were constantly missing, but most days weren’t very good. “Reading, mostly. Thanks again for the recommendation.”

The book he’d lent you – a dry historical drama with characters as bland as water and a plot as boring as sin – sat open on your lap, but you’d only gotten through half a chapter before giving up. It was hard to believe Carlisle was only a few years older than you, sometimes. You couldn’t imagine how someone who seemed so young could have such awful taste.

Still, he looked pleased, his pleasantly aloof expression taking on a defined note of satisfaction. “It’s important to keep your mind occupied while your body’s recovering. You wouldn’t want to waste all of my hard work by letting yourself die of boredom, now, would you?”

“No, doctor.” It was stupid to try, but he’d set himself up for it. You couldn’t seem to stop yourself, your heart beating just a little faster as you grasped blindly for the impossible. “You know, there’s this friend of mine who keeps asking when she’ll be able to visit, and I thought it might help pass the time if—”  

“You’ll have to find a way to let her down.” Carlisle’s voice was smooth, calm. You did your best not to sulk, but still, he let out a labored sigh, only a touch too professional to roll his eyes. “It’s for the best. It’s good that you stay active, but you know what’ll happen if you overexert yourself, don’t you?”

Vaguely. It was hard to remember the details of your condition, and you weren’t in the mood for another lecture. “I do, doctor.”

“And you’re going to behave your check-up, aren’t you?”

“I am, doctor.”

“And that’s why you’re my favorite patient.” Your compliance was rewarded with a beaming smile, an appeased nod as he pulled his old-fashioned leather doctor’s bag into his lap. “We better make good on that promise before you change your mind, then.”

You didn’t protest. Honestly, you didn’t say much of anything. You never talked during your exam, preferring to let Carlisle go through the necessary motions with as little interference as possible. Instead, he filled the silence with mindless chatter about his children and how they were doing at the local public school, the hospital’s ongoings since you were unofficially discharged, and your favorite – Forks’ particularly colorful smalltown gossip, from the sheriff’s wayward daughter moving back into town to the spike in bear sightings on the local hiking paths. “It’ll be a busy week,” he mentioned, as he finished taking your blood pressure. “You might have some unexpected company, after all.”

At that, you perked up. You met nearly all of Carlisle’s assistants (medical students, you guessed, judging by their ages) by now, and even if you didn’t care for all of them, it was still nice to see someone other than him. Your least favorites were the dark haired twins – the wiry boy who always seemed to be biting back a smirk and the pixie-like girl who always acted like she knew something you didn’t – and you were particularly fond of the blonde girl… Rosemary, or maybe Rosaline. She was nice, compassionate, kind enough to keep you company even when Carlisle wasn’t in the room. More importantly, she brought interesting books – romance and horror, novels like Dracula and Carmilla and Interview with a Vampire, always handing over with a sweet smile and a hushed reminder not to let Carlisle know she was breaking his rules. Looking back on it, you probably shouldn’t have accepted anything she tried to give you. You would’ve hated for her to get in trouble just because she was trying to be nice.

Rather than voicing your overwhelming bias, you watched intently as he slipped the loose cuff off of your arm, tucking it back into his bag and removing something else, something long and silver and sharp. Immediately, your gaze shot back to your lap, your throat going dry in an instant. The next time you managed to spit something out, it was nearly too quiet to be audible. “…is there any chance we could, uh, I don’t know,” You paused, shrunk into yourself. “…skip the phlebotomy, this time?”

Carlisle’s answer was as swift as it was ruthless. An airy laugh, a jagged twist to this smile as he took up the needle properly and turned it over in his hand, looking for defects. It was already attached the glass syringe and, even worse, an empty vial; just a touch bigger than you remembered it being, the day before. “And take that kind of risk? How little do you think of me, (Y/n)?”

“It’s not you, it’s just—I already feel a little faint, and you take one every day, and—” You cut yourself off, inhaling sharply. “I just don’t know if it’s really necessary. Considering how careful you are and everything.”

“You’re right, I am careful. Which is exactly why I have to do this each and every time I come to see you.” He sighed, shook his head – suddenly more of a patronizing, paternal figure than any kind of medical professional, let alone peer. “You understand, don’t you? Without regular testing, your condition may worsen, and if you get any sicker than you are now…” You stiffened as he trailed off, bracing yourself. You knew what came next, what always came next.

“You’ll have to go back to the hospital, angel.”

It was strange, how a voice as smooth and as beautiful as his could be so difficult to listen to.

You didn’t like Carlisle. You hated his condescending smile, his repetitive rambling, his terrible taste in books and his creepy little students. You hated how little he let you do, how he talked about your illness – always skirting around the details, never giving you enough information to know whether you were on the verge of dying or a few days away from making a full recovery. No, when you were honest with yourself, you didn’t like him. Hated him, even.

But you couldn’t go back to the hospital, with its blank white walls and sobbing patients and strange, mind-altering drugs that put your sleep and made you feel like someone was biting into your throat. It’d been a miracle when Carlisle first told you about his domestic services, when he offered to have you discharged in exchange for only the promise that you wouldn’t seek care that didn’t come from him. Arrangements were made, your rent and bills taken over by some nameless, faceless local charity, and for the first time in months, you got to go home. You could live with Carlisle and his once weekly, now daily check-ups. You could live with the fact that you didn’t remember the last time you’d gotten to make a decision for yourself.

And, if you had to, you could live with paying for your freedom in blood, too. As long as it meant you didn’t have to go back to that terrible place.

Once again, you didn’t say anything, but you didn’t resist as he sighed and ran a sterilizing pad over your forearm, the antibiotic strong enough to burn. You clenched your eyes shut, but that did nothing to block out the feeling of a thin elastic band being wrapped around the crook of your elbow, of his needle pushing through your skin and burrowing into the vein underneath it. There was a second of pressure, of knotted soreness, and then, the syringe was gone and you were left feeling just a little colder, just a little more empty than you had before.

Even after opening your eyes, you kept them trained on your lap. You easily could’ve spent the rest of his visit in silence, but metal clinked against glass as he rushed to cap his vial and suddenly, you needed to hear the sound of your own voice. “I think I might be getting paranoid,” you managed, with a breath of a laugh. “For a few minutes this morning, I was able to convince myself that you were… I don’t know, an alien studying humanity, or something.”

“If I was, I’m sure that I would still pick you as the best possible specimen for my examination.” It was hollow comfort, but you smiled anyway, nodding along. Your medication came next, in the form of a small, chalky white pill that you still struggled to swallow under Carlisle’s vigilant gaze. You managed to choke it down, though, and as always, the effects were instant; a sudden clearness, blankness, followed shortly by an exhaustion so thick and so heavy, you couldn’t remember what it’d ever felt like not to be tired. You tried to hold yourself up, but faltered – buckling under your own weight. Carlisle chuckled as he caught you, helping you lay down with a soft squeeze to your shoulder, a feather-light kiss to the top of your head. “Sleep, angel. It’s good for you.” And then, his grin still pressing into your scalp. “And try not to dream about vampires, this time.”

So he did know about Rosalie’s books. Pouting, you shrunk into yourself, letting him drag the comforter over your abruptly immobile body as your eyes eased shut, as he pulled away – a vial of your blood still warm in his hand. It would’ve been impossible to stop yourself from falling asleep, but you managed to stave off unconscious long enough to watch him remove the vial’s carefully applied seal, to unscrew the air-tight cap with the kind of tenderness you’d only seen him use while taking your temperature or petting his fingers through your hair after he thought you were already too far gone to remember. He did a lot of things when he thought you weren’t looking, didn’t he? You’d never really noticed that, before.

Through your eyelashes, you watched him bring the vial to his lips before everything went dark.

[justawritterwithideas]

law in pink | s.r

♡ first part | next part ♡

summary: after confronting an unsub, it leaves you with a ugly mark and Spencer decides to give you a gift to cheer you up.

warnings: mentions of physical violence, beyond that a bit of girl power from reader and a sweet spencer worried about you.

this story is spencer reid (season 7) x ssa elle woods!reader

words: 1,567 words.

a/n: by popular demand, here is part two of law in pink, and yes, I will be returning to this story in a short series with chapters from ssa woods!reader x spencer. thank you very much again and I hope you like it.

The first rule everyone should know about you is that they must never mess with your face.

Never.

Because they don't know what a process it is to get it well cared for, hydrated and with that natural glow. They also don't know how expensive your skincare products are (always the best of the best) and your sessions with your dermatologist.

So they should never, but never, mess with your face.

But clearly an unsub wasn't going to know that, a criminal accused of killing 4 women with a twisted mind was never going to think that.

Least of all when his hand punched you straight in the face, splitting your lip and leaving a mark on your cheekbone, causing the taste of iron to be savored in your mouth.

"What, is Barbie going to cry about her face? I don't understand why they sent the weakest one."

You turned to look at him as you heard his sarcastic laugh, which didn't last long as the Gucci logo on your heel was branded on his cheek and he was falling dazed after hitting a box in the process.

"Weak? Please, you messed with the wrong Barbie." You smiled proudly at the sight of him on the floor, pawing at your face and letting out a groan at the sensation of pain. "Now I'll have to make an appointment with my dermatologist and a traumatologist because of you." You sighed pulling the gun away from his body and proceeded to take his hands to cuff them.

Within minutes, you heard some voices calling out to you, so you began to signal where you were. Within seconds, you saw a concerned J.J. and Emily come down to where you were standing, pointing their guns at you.

The scene was amusing and amazing to watch, you on top of a man who was twice your size as well as weight, lying on the ground while his hands were cuffed.

"Malibu Barbie just captured the undercover toy." You motioned for the cops to take him away, noticing how Emily got a close look at your lip.

"That must hurt."

"It'll hurt more for him, these babies are from last season and has a good sole. Fresh from the mail and ready to make a mark." You commented showing your heels to your companions, hearing their laughter at your joke.

The three of you walked out behind the hoard of people, noticing Spencer and Derek getting out of the newly arrived SUV. As soon as Spencer's gaze captured your face in his field of vision, you could feel him notice right away how your wounded face was the focus of the stares.

"What happened?" Derek looked in everyone's direction, stopping your gaze on you and the clear change in your usual 'perfect' face. "Oh no, Barbie..."

"Don't even look at me, better look at him." You pointed your chin in the direction of the patrol car, where your shoe logo was visible on the criminal's ruddy cheek. "My pilates classes taught him a good lesson." You commented smiling, but immediately let out a groan from the pain it was to move the muscles in your face. "But I think it will leave me achy for a few days."

In between conversations, the others convinced you to go get attended to, so you heeded and walked away from them in the direction of the ambulance, so they could give your cheekbone and lip attention.

"Are you okay, Y/N?"

Spencer's soft voice made you forget the pain for a few seconds, turning to see his face and giving him a smile where your white teeth took center stage.

"I'm fine, it was just a tap." The paramedic walked away to leave the two of you alone. You knew it wasn't an answer that would leave Spencer satisfied about your condition, in fact, his intense stare at you was more than enough to make that clear. You let out a sigh, turning to look at the brunette. "Well, I don't think it's just a 'tap out'. I'll have to ask for a couple of days until I show up at the office decently, not with this horrible face."

One of your biggest problems was your appearance, as many may note, because, if you weren't perfect, you couldn't leave your house.

It had to be everything, head to toe, just the way you have it in your head, if not, sorry, but they'll have to wait for you.

"It's not horrible, you still look just as beautiful." Spencer's words seemed impulsive, but they made your cheeks turn pink, even though I wasn't the only one blushing at that moment, Spencer's were just the same.

"You think so?" your eyelashes fluttered softly, watching the boy.

"Y-yes, y-you always look cute, Y/N."

A kiss on his cheek was the positive response you left for Spence to understand that his words were the best choice, and helped push away those thoughts about how bad you looked with a swollen lip and bruises on your cheek.

"Thank you Spencie, your words are always the right ones. Like a good Chai Latte on a cold day." You smiled getting up from where you were, indicating to him that you would go to the SUV.

For the first time in his life, Spencer appreciated his impulsiveness.

About a week later, you reappeared at the office for a full day's work.

Your body was covered by a pink skirt and jacket ensemble, something that was no longer a problem for anyone after weeks of seeing you arrive like this.

The only thing that wasn't pink at all was your black purse, a beautiful Alexandra. K. Joy and of course, the tray full of coffees you were carrying in your hands.

"Miss Universe, you're back." Derek smiled, causing you to walk up to him and leave a short hug.

"Good things always come back, now be a cutie and help me with this, D." You passed him the tray with coffees, walking beside him as you shared a couple of words.

There was a variety of coffees for everyone according to their tastes, you had taken the time to memorize each order so that it was to their liking.

And as soon as you appeared, you heard Penelope's voice call out to you. Your hand rose to greet her, approaching her with a smile.

"My pretty Y/N." The blonde immediately caught you in a hug, causing you to do the same.

"Penny!" you said cheerfully as you passed her a butterscotch frappe with plant-based milk. "I picked out something I thought you'd like."

"Thanks, cutie. How's your lip?"

"Sore, a little damaged, but better than I thought. My dermatologist recommended a magic cream that Lindsay Lohan used, she said it worked miracles and in two weeks it would be just the way it was."

A smile tugged at your lips, starting to pass out the coffees you had bought until you reached the last one: the one for Dr. Reid.

"Spencie." Your voice snapped him out of his head, turning to see you with a smile.

"Y/N, hey. How are you doing?"

"Much, much better, look... My lip looks almost like it did before! I'll get back to my pretty face." You placed the coffee in front of his eyes, giving him another smile. "A coffee loaded with vegetable milk, I heard around that you're lactose intolerant so I took the liberty of choosing for you."

A blush of embarrassment at that secret settled on his cheeks, causing him to lower his head.

"Thank you, Y/N. I appreciate the coffee." He lifted the cup, taking a sip from it and simply gave you a look, causing you to smile and go to your table.

But it was surprise that settled on your face as you saw a box full of skincare products. Your hands went to grab the products, noticing that it was every single one you occupied and ever mentioned.

"What? Guys... Wow." You held up the little serum box, but the confusion on Emily's face turned your excitement to confusion. "It wasn't you guys?"

"I don't even remember what I did yesterday and I'm going to remember your products, cutie. You take a lot of them." Emily laughed softly, but made you look again in search of the person responsible.

"There's only one person who can remember details like that." Derek's words drew your gaze from your desk to that of a certain doctor, who was shifting his gaze back to his paperwork. "And he hides behind his work."

A soft blush settled on your cheeks, causing you to bring the little box to your chest and press it to your heart, marveling at the detail.

Your feet soon made their way to the desk of the person in charge, and catching him off guard, you left a kiss on his cheek where your pink lipstick was stamped on his skin.

"Thank you, Spencie. I'll take good care of it."

Spencer's heart stopped for a couple of seconds, you could read it.

And as soon as you left, just like a tomato the young doctor's face colored. As a plus, the comments from Morgan didn't take long to come.

"Wow pretty boy, you just won the lottery."

Spencer knew it and that caused him to smile, because boy did he win it.

♡ first part ♡

If you like it, don't forget to like and repost it.

a lot of love, alme. ❀

[daydreamgoddess14]

Sweat

Declan O'Hara x f!reader

(little mention of Tag x Rupert)

~1k words, no real warnings - the 'c' word is used once.

While I wait for my man Jack Lowden to return from war (filming season 6 of Slow Horses), I thought I'd dip my little toe into a very short Declan O'Hara one-shot 😬

If you're reading The Escape Artist, fear not, the final TWO chapters are coming this week! Yes, of course I do have other prompts to get on with, but I was in spin class last night, and every time my instructor shouted, "Ride, ride, ride" all I saw was Declan 😅 The moustache would make a wonderful handle as well 🤭

Another bead of sweat drips from your forehead onto the towel.

“Ride, ride, ride, ride, don't stop ladies,” the instructor, an Adonis of a man, coaches you through the pumping music. Next to you, Taggie blows a stray curl out of her face.

“This is torture,” she hisses through gritted teeth.

She isn't wrong.

The newly installed ‘Bicycle Hub’ has raised eyebrows at the local leisure centre, with few expected to actually attend.

The Hub overlooks the squash courts, not that you'd know.

They were so filled with cigarette smoke you could hardly see a thing at all.

From the front row of bikes, you had a prime view looking down.

Usually older gentlemen with portly stomachs and red wine noses who were one play away from a heart attack.

“Oh look, it's daddy.” Taggie peers down. “And Rupert.”

Even through the glowing pink caused by the exercise class you can see her blush.

The two men look up and catch you watching them.

A real shame you couldn't lip read.

Not that they'd be saying anything about Tag, Rupert wouldn't dare in front of Declan.

You were fair game though.

Taggie waves but you don't dare break your rhythm on the bike for fear you'd fall right off.

“Concentrate, ladies,” Adonis warns. “Left, right, left, left, right, right. Stay with the beat, ride, ride, ride.”

You tear your eyes away from the squash court and look back at your bike, regretting it instantly.

“My legs are killing me,” you mutter, feeling your thighs burn.

You go back to looking at the squash game Declan and Rupert are playing, it looks more like they're trying to hit each other with the ball rather than play to the rules.

Each of them roaring with laughter whenever they make contact.

“I'm sure that's not how you're supposed to play,” Taggie grumbles.

“Could be worse, they could be just hitting each other with the racket,” you suggest.

Your breath comes in short gasps now, your stamina rapidly declining.

The rhythmic sounds of the squash ball combine with the squeak of running shoes, the beat of the music, and the hum of the fixed wheels of the bike.

A cacophony of sounds.

You find yourself watching their game more intently, it powers you through the changes in resistance on the bike.

You tilt your head to brush your earlobe against your shoulder and catch another drip of sweat.

As you do so, another works its way down the side of your neck and down into your cleavage.

“And down, catch your breath. Next, we're going to run,” Adonis tells the class.

You let your legs slow down a little and take the opportunity to run the towel over your face and take a long drink of water.

Your chest heaves.

As you put your water bottle back on the machine, you automatically look again at the squash court, this time catching Declan watching you.

You notice the quick lift of his eyebrow as he stares.

He licks his lips slowly, deliberately, and then smiles.

“OK ladies, stand up -”

“On the bike?”

“Yes, madame, it's time to run.”

“I don't understand, I'll fall off!” You think it's Valerie Jones who's protesting, but you've yet to look away from Declan.

Holding his gaze, you do as Adonis asks and you stand up, straightening your legs on the pedals.

Even from this distance you can tell where he's looking.

Your tight lycra crop top pulls your breasts together and his eyes are drawn like a magnet.

When you lean forward on the bike, he wipes his hand over his mouth.

The next track starts building in momentum and so do you, each rotation of the wheels making you bounce a little more vigorously.

Neither of you has looked away yet, goodness knows where Rupert has gone.

Taggie is mercifully distracted, a tight frown of concentration on her face.

There's a wicked glint in Declan's eye and you tilt your head to the side, a silent question.

Whatever he's about to do in response, he doesn't.

Rupert is back, distracting him, talking to him.

He looks away at last, but you can tell it's under duress.

“Thank you ladies, great class for today!” Adonis is off the bike and leading his own round of applause.

You roll your eyes at Taggie and grimace.

“He's single! So I've heard,” she tells you with a giggle.

“No thanks, his biceps are huge! He'd suffocate me!”

You leave the class very much in need of a shower and as you make your way down to the changing rooms, you pass the squash courts.

Taggie's looking out for Rupert, you can tell.

Desperate for a moment alone with him.

You spot him first, by the water fountain, and nudge her in his direction.

His face lights up at the sight of her.

"Looks like you ladies have been getting all hot and sweaty,” he grins slyly.

You leave them to talk, and open the glass door to the court.

Taggie and Rupert are in full view of most of the leisure centre so he only has his words to charm with.

Inside the court, Declan has been watching you through the glass.

“Water?” You offer, holding out your bottle.

“Prefer whiskey,” he grins.

“So do I.”

“I'd also prefer an exercise that'll leave us both breathless," he says quietly.

There's a line you're about to cross but neither of you seems to care.

“So do I.” You repeat equally quietly.

“Sure I can find a much more comfortable seat for you as well.”

The lilt of his accent runs over your body.

He looks through the door but Taggie and Rupert are out of sight, for once, he doesn't seem to care.

He takes a step towards you, as if he's about to whisper in your ear.

Instead, he drags his tongue from your throat to your earlobe.

“You taste delicious.”

Your power of speech is non-existent.

Your hands shake as the adrenaline from the class and from his proximity mingle together.

He kisses your temple, your hairline damp with sweat.

“I think it's time to put a stop to this little game, don't you?” he murmurs.

You can only nod as your body trembles and your cunt clenches.

And then you hear Rupert in the atrium outside.

Declan takes a measured step away from you as Taggie arrives, though neither of you can stop staring.

“Ugh, let's go, I feel disgusting,” she pulls a face. Rupert clearly thinks quite the opposite.

“Yes, let's. Enjoy your game, gentlemen.” You smile brightly.

“I certainly am,” Declan responds, the low rumble of his laughter following you from the court.

You can still feel the heat of his stare as you pile into the car to leave.

You can still feel the weight of his body on yours as you climb into bed that night.

[kkami-writes]

waiting for us — chapter sixty. lost wc. 1.3k CW! very intense chapter. violent acts, domestic abuse, mentions of blood a/n: sorry pt 2 please don't kill me. as always, tl;dr at the end.

It’s hard to tell how long it’s been since he threw the first punch. It could have been mere minutes or a whole hour. You have no idea. All you know is that everything hurts.

He’s been spewing hateful words ever since he barged into the apartment but at this point you can’t even hear him anymore, too focused on the searing pain that’s spreading all over your body. You can taste the familiar and you’re pretty sure your leg is broken from the way it’s angled funny.

“Are you even listening to me you fucking whore?” His hands are suddenly around your throat, cutting off your air supply. Your weak hands to grasp at his own to pull them away but it’s a useless attempt. Your energy is rapidly fading and your vision swims in and out of focus.

You try to hold on but you’re losing consciousness fast and a single tear runs down your good eye. You can’t help but think that this is it, you were probably about to die. Yet the only thing on your mind is your boys. Instead of your own shitty life flashing by, it’s all your favorite memories you have with them in the short amount of time you’ve gotten to have them. It’s a rather nice way to go you suppose, being reminded of their love. After all, it’s probably the last time you’ll get to see them, even if it’s like this.

Hyunjin and Minho bicker while the climb up the stairs to the apartment, the older exasperated at the fact that Hyunjin did in fact misplace his keys once again. First they were late because he insisted he only needed one thing from the art store now to only find he really did not have his keys with him. Once they reach the apartment however, the door is already open and slightly ajar. The two exchange quick glances before barging in.

They can hear loud yelling and peaking from just behind the couch are your feet. Quickly, they run further into the apartment only to find you, bruised and bleeding with a male on top of you.

Hyunjin screams and Minho sees red.

The elder of the two if quicker as he jumps in to pull the male off of you. There’s not a single scratch on the strange man and it only fuels his anger. You couldn’t even fight back.

“Who the fuck are you?” Minho spits at the man, his fingers digging into the collar of his shirt. The male towers over him by a good few inches but Minho could care less.

“Ha! Let me guess? One of her soulmates?” He says the word in a condescending manner, an ugly sneer on his face. “Sorry. I was just teaching her a much needed lesson,” The man grins and his teeth are yellow, alcohol lingering in his breath and it makes Minho cringe back.

Minho doesn’t need to hear anything else as he pulls his fist back and smashes it into the mans face. He watches with a satisfying smirk as the other falls to the ground, clutching his now bleeding nose. Minho doesn’t give him another chance to get back up, kicking him in the gut so he stays on the ground.

Minho hovers over the male with a scowl curling at his lips before spitting in the others face. He brings his foot up, aiming directly for his face. “Fuck. You. This is for my soulmate,” and then he brings his heel down. A sickening crunch is heard and Minho knows that he has successfully broken the others nose. The man is unconscious now, blood dripping from his nose but it’s the least of Minho’s worries. He glances over to you, seeing that Hyunjin is currently taking care of you so he slips his phone out to call the police.

Hyunjin is hovering over you, delicately cupping your face in his shaky hands. One of your eyes is completely swollen, turning a nasty shade of purple and there is a similar bruise starting to develop around your neck. You’re completely out of it, your breathing shallow and Hyunjin doesn’t even think you notice that he’s here with you as he tries to get you to focus on him.

“Baby. Baby, shhh. You’re ok now. Help is on the way, yeah?” You don’t respond or even look at him and it only makes him cry even harder. Fat tears run down his cheeks at how broken you look in his arms. How could anyone do this to someone else? Let alone to you. “Please…Please baby, look at me…” He all but begs, patting your cheeks lightly. Anything for you to focus on him.

“J-Jinnie?” Your voice is hoarse and raw but it has Hyunjin breathing out a sigh of relief. You look up at him slowly, eyes blinking drowsily.

“There you are. Hello my muse,” He tries to smile through his tears. “Keep those pretty eyes open for me ok? Help is on the way,” Hyunjin says in a gentle voice, stroking your cheek. You’re still very much out of it, unable to focus completely on him and it makes him frown. You mumble something as your eyes start to droop once more, causing the poor boy to start panicking.

“Hyun….” You try to call out to him but he just shushes you, squeezing your hands.

“Shh, it’s ok princess. You don’t need to say anything,” But you shake your head, grimacing as a wave of pain filters through your body. You need to say this. Even if it’s the last thing you do.

“Mm- Tell…Tell the boys that…I love them,” You manage to say and Hyunjin feels like his heart is breaking.

“Tell them yourself,” He says, begging for you to stay with him. You just smile softly, barely holding on with your lids feeling heavy. “No no no no. Baby, you can’t close your eyes,” He says, gently shaking you in an attempt to keep you awake but it’s all futile as your eyes roll to the back of your head and you fall unconscious.

“Baby! Baby no! Hyung!! HYUNG! She’s unconscious!” Hyunjin screams, now full on crying as he clutches your body to his.

Minho’s grip on his phone is so tight he’s almost worried it’ll shatter as he quickly calls Chan.

“Hello? What’s up? Aren’t you supposed to be driving yn to work?” Chan answers on the first ring, always reliable. Minho has to take a deep breath to calm himself.

“…Hyung,” His own voice cracks, lower lip wobbling. “Come home. Now.”

“What? What’s wrong? What happened?”

“Theres….been an incident. I need you to come home. NOW.” Minho is demanding, making sure Chan understands that he isn’t asking.

“Ok, ok. I’ll come home right now,”

“Send the others to the hospital. I’ll have Hyunjin call them,”

“The hospital? What? Minho what is going on? Shouldn’t I meet you at the hospital then? Is yn okay??” Chan goes into his ‘leader’ mode, asking way too many questions that Minho isn’t willing to answer right now.

“No. I need you home because I can’t guarantee that I will wait for the police to arrive. I will fucking kill him,” Minho’s tone is deadly as he sneers towards the still unconscious male. Chan on the other line is concerned and confused. He can vaguely hear Hyunjin’s sobs in the background and with the way Minho’s talking he knows he’s not about to get any answers right now.

“Ok Min. I’m on my way home. Just…wait for me, ok?”

He takes another deep breath. “Ok hyung…please hurry,” His voice cracks again before he hangs up, unable to be away from you any longer.

Hyunjin’s still sobbing uncontrollably as Minho comes over and sits silently next to him. He reaches out to grasp at your hand, hating the way its limp against his own. Still, he clutches it like it’s his lifeline.

“…please be ok. You have to be ok,” Minho whispers a quick prayer, squeezing your hand.

TL;DR: yn's brother chokes her and she falls unconscious. hyunjin holds her as she tells him to tell the boys that she loves them. minho comes to curb stomp him and calls the police + chan to come home.

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[jolalibrary]

2. lemon twist

frankie morales x f!reader | chapter two of do me yourself

summary: a meet-cute in a hardware store? impossible, out of the question. except, that's exactly what happens. a need for screws leads you to a broad-shouldered, brown-eyed man who you're sure is about to change your day, never mind your life.

wordcount: 3.4k chapter warnings: [see masterlist for series warnings] meet cute, flirting. fluff. flirting in person and over IG. frankie being a single!dad to a son. frankie gives reader/you a nickname (paint related from chp.1) no other descriptions or name used. no use of y/n. an: thank you so much for all the love on chapter one, and the bonus graphic. I'm so happy to bring you chapter two! also, WE'RE POSTING WEEKLY BABIESSS

prev chapter | frankie's ig

key: frankie is in bold, you are in italics

A soft, melodic tune pulls you into the land of the living, aware of the tug of it, and the immediate reluctance you have to leave the comfort of your dreams.

Your hand hesitates, reluctant to emerge from under the snug warmth of your sheets before your fingers are tapping and searching, all sluggish with sleep, groping blindly as it crawls against the wooden top of your bedside table. It's only when your fingertips connect with the screen does the world fall into silence.

Nothingness. Stillness. Peace.

The perfect environment for your mind to come to itself as you slowly open your lashes, raising a balled-up fist to rub slumber away, as your gaze meets streams of light rolling in through the breeze-blown curtains.

Then it hits you.

Comes to you in a trickle. Then a flood.

One after the other, memories of last night rush over you. Messages sent and received coming to you, recalling the way you'd tucked a pillow under your chest as your thumbs replied quickly to each incoming DM. Then, you recall the giddiness, how it fluttered through you—how it still remains. Still ever-present and very much thrumming inside of you as you begin to smile.

It remains on your face as you roll out of bed. A brief memory of something he said making you laugh as you wash your face, and another when you brush your teeth.

That feeling stays with you as the sun glistens through your kitchen window. One which adds a glow to the place, making the little smoke stains on the walls and the chips on the kitchen counter seem better, less noticeable—and less irritating.

You smirk as you wrap your hand around your mug—because is it too soon to wish him a good morning? Should you wait for him?

Sighing, rolling your eyes, you land on the dresser you were sprucing up in the place a dining table should be. Your eyes linger on it—teeth picking at the skin on your lip—just as it does so each time you come in this room.

A reminder once again that this place should be a home you’ve been building for years, and not just the last few months. There should be photos on the walls of a relationship playing out alongside family and friends, but those ones placed in between are still just empty.

Like so much of your home.

Taking a sip of your coffee, you drop your stare to the newspaper under the feet of the dresser. The stories were told in black and white splotches over in many shades, dotted around as you tested and checked to see what would make the old, worn thing look like something new. The same thing you’d somehow managed to get delivered through a smile and a sweet, please.

You had been, for so long, undecided on the shade.

Yet, as you gaze upon it now, your imagination begins to weave a vivid portrait. It conjures the image of what it might resemble should you succumb to the shade that's gradually painting itself in imaginary strokes.

Sliding your phone from your pocket, you open up your DMs.

Does butterscotch orange come in a paint type suitable for wood? It does. You at work today? Desperate to see me? Just looking to help someone shift paint they can’t sell. What you looking to paint, Rainy?

Taking another sip of your drink, the warmth kisses your palm similar to the temperature blooming in your cheeks from conversing with him again.

Choosing, instead of words, to snap a photo, knowing it'll be easier, simpler.

Watching it send, the little speech bubble appearing as your mind drifts to the hair above his lip, the facial hair along his jaw—the little patch you’d wanted to graze your thumb over.

You think of the way his eyes crinkle when he smiles; when he’d looked pleased to see you in the paint aisle—something akin to a modern-day meet cute you see on the TV.

You coming in today? If I can… gives me something to do this afternoon.

You bite your lip, considering it—whether it’s too forward to make a flirtatious comment. The two of you skirted around it last night, practically river dancing—not quite stepping over, but not quite retreating either.

I’ll get you it ready at the main desk. My hero, Frank.DIY Don’t push it.

It’s the third visit you’ve made, and while you gloss over the paint chippings on the door, you do notice the circular stains on the floor.

They’re brown, smudged slightly at the edges as though someone has, at one time, attempted to clean (whatever it was) quickly after it had appeared. It’s clear they had failed.

Your eyes scan over it, for a moment forgetting anything and everything.

Just existing in today's scent, which happens to be singed wood—chippings of it practically in the air—as the sound of an electrical saw starts up and begins screeching in some distant corner until you hear your name being called.

And it silences everything.

That voice could pull you from anything, you think.

A crisis, your thoughts, a spiral.

You’d heard his voice plenty all last night as you watched videos of him hanging shelves, answering questions likely sent to him on how best to prime a wooden handrail, and still, you weren't sure you were sick of his voice.

That, and DIY had honestly never sounded so hot.

After the shortest walk to the counter, a brief hello, a grin you wish you could try and smother a touch, you’re leaning on the counter. His eyes focused on you, watching every move you make as though looking anywhere else would be a crime.

“You got a Sharpie there?”

Frowning, you feel you can breathe easier when his eyes drop to the counter—rustling around the till area as you rest your elbow.

“Because I forgot mine and I think I should ask for a signature this time.”

Pausing, he slowly lifts his chin, then eyes. “Funny.”

Shrugging, you grin, watching him ring up the tin—occasionally smirking to himself, before shaking his head as you pay, your phone vibrating on the counter that you continue to ignore.

“You gonna be alright with that?”

Scrunching your nose, you pocket your phone and tilt the can on the counter. “Painting a dresser or carrying this to my car?”

Something sparkles in his eyes, a little shimmer. His mouth opening, likely ready to spill nothing but charm and flirtation again, when another voice cuts through—one gruffer, more tinged in age.

“Francisco, what you d—oh, I see.”

Your smile remains, even as you stare up at the older man—the one with wiry whites and spotted greys you’d seen sitting behind the counter on the day you left to get coffee with Francisco.

It’s notable, how smaller, and thinner the older man is—how he moves like he’s pained by each step until he slumps into a chair and puts on the brightest and biggest of smiles before offering his hand.

“The name’s Harry.”

You look at it, only briefly, flicking your eyes to Frankie who looks like he’s wishing the earth would open up at his feet and swallow him whole. A somewhat twisted, forced blank expression and the mildest of eye rolls follow when your hand slips inside Harry’s, offering your name.

“Thought it was Harold,” Frankie says, rather bitterly.

“You have to call me Harold, but she can call me Harry.”

Smirking, you bite your tongue, rolling your lips as you smooth down your blouse—trying not to make any more eye contact with the man you’d really come to see.

Sliding the paint closer to you, you offer a softer smile, one that is nothing short of kind. “It was lovely to meet you Harry, and I’ll see—“

“—Rainy.”

His voice cut through as the can slid from the counter, the sudden acknowledgement of the weight showing—likely scorched across your face as your arm drags down, shoulder going with it, just about saving it from the ground.

It’s only as you look up, do you find Frankie half over the counter, spotting the key rings and cart tokens rolling around the floor—the stand on its axis from his sudden movement.

So, is Rainy my name now?

You caught that?

I did 😏

I wasn’t thinking.

I have to ask.

Here we go.

Do you always wear the hat or is it a Frank.DIY thing? And is it Frank or Frankie or the newly learnt Francisco?

Whats wrong with my hat? And Frankie and Morales were taken.

Morales your surname? I feel I’ve hit a sore spot.

Yes. And you have but you can make it better.

How?

Meeting me for a very boring lunch this week.

You’re really twisting my arm. Which is mean. You saw the stress my shoulder had to endure today.

I tried to warn you. I’ll let you bring your Pinterest board and your saved Reels.

I fear you just want me for my organisational inspiration.

Can’t help you decide if I’m the man for your project if I don’t know what you’re after.

Fair, I guess I can meet you for a business lunch.

Would you be more into meeting me for lunch if it wasn’t a business lunch?

It depends on what kind of lunch we’re talking about.

I’m very badly trying to ask you out on a date.

Oh, that’s what you’re trying to do.

Unless I’ve read this wrong.

Nope, read it perfectly. I guess I have to confess to you that I really would love to go on a brunch date with you, Francisco.

Lunch date. Let’s not get too romantic. Don’t want you to fall head over heels and visit where I work twice in two days.

Has Harold told you how hilarious you are?

It’s nice—the place he’s chosen.

All washed in bright white, yellow splashes and pastel accents. Plants adorn as much of the walls and ceilings as humanly possible, with guitar-infused music softly playing as the door clicks into place behind you.

It's so nice, in fact, you almost want to live here. To spend an infinite amount of time brushing your thumb over the leaves to see which ones are real and which ones are very good fakes. So pretty that it’s the kind of place that if you weren’t looking for him at a table, you’d snap a photo of it all and send it to a friend.

But, as soon as your eyes land on him, he's the only photo you want to take.

White t-shirt, with a dark shirt thrown over the top, still very much all broad-shouldered and wide chest as he smooths his hand down as he stands.

The hat, one that you'd assumed would be a staple, is all but gone, curls at odd angles as though his fingers have been teasing them—tugging and pulling as the ends slightly frizz—as he moves around the table when you approach.

“Hi.”

“Hi,” he grins, hesitancy thrumming before he must question himself, snaps himself back into place from dragging his eyes up and down you.

Then, he’s moving, gently—enough time to register he’s moving to hug you, and plenty of time to politely decline.

But you don’t.

Allowing his hand to slide over your waist, delicate, very much cautious and all but respectful, at the same time as his breath flutters over your cheek. You almost turn your chin, wishing to all of a sudden curl into it before his lips graze your skin, lashes fluttering before you feel him moving back.

And, fuck, the scent of his aftershave is still washing over you in thick waves. It does its best to slide up your nose and make a home there as heat rushes to your cheeks.

You almost turn, almost catch the last bit of his lips, eyes focused on his, holding, burning them in as you find yourself unable to tear away from it. Two people, swirling, completely lost in only the other—the rest of the world fading to a muted shade, nothing compared to the hue he exhumes in the centre of brightness and pops of colour.

A thing you turn over, unable to stop yourself from stealing stares as he pulls out your chair, before joining you by sitting opposite.

“Thought this was a safe bet, wasn’t sure what kind of lunch person you were.”

“More of a brunch person, honestly.”

He smirks, flicking his eyes up, even if his head is tilted down at the menu.

“It’s very nice—not been here before.”

A brow arched, he smiles—shyer, the beginning of the dimple appearing before he casts his eyes back down.

“What do you recommend, Francisco?”

You don’t miss his snort, the way he sticks his tongue in his cheek as he gives you that look—one that makes you want to keep flirting and testing him all at once. One that makes you clamp your jean-covered thighs together, but secretly hope he notices you doing so.

If he does, he doesn’t show it. Instead, using his index finger to point at various parts of the menu, recommendations falling, rolling—a shimmer in his eyes at certain parts, that makes it easy when someone comes over to ask for your order.

You suspect it’s a favourite, the one you’ve chosen. Something is written into the way he holds your gaze before he stumbles over his words, practically trips, to say his.

It’s only when you’re alone, do you rest your elbow on the table—the coldness of it rising up your skin, rooting you—as you lean your chin on your palm. “So, do I get my Pinterest boards out now or…?”

“Funny.”

You bite your tongue as you smile, staring, admiring. “So, outside of terrorising a man in his own shop, running an Instagram, what does Francisco DIY do?”

Shaking his head, he takes a sip of his water—a bead collecting, remaining on his lower lip for a ridiculously long time, before the tip of his tongue casts it away, and sweeps it from your view.

“My… my friend fights—like MMA. He stopped for a bit, but now he…”

You wait, let it form—let him decide what it is he wants to tell you and when, and how. Sliding your feet out under the table, stretching as you relax into the chair, finding his eyes fixed, concentrated.

“I go to some of his training.”

“Good at DIY and MMA training? Starting to wonder why you’re single, Butterscotch.”

He laughs, soft, rich. “Just… haven’t been looking to date.”

Nodding, you let out a heavy exhale. “I wasn’t either.”

His lips purse, twitch to the side, a smirk half forming somewhere in his cheeks as he leans over, elbow resting on the table, foot catching yours under the table.

Mirroring you entirely as the two of you just stare. And, normally, it would be weird. Odd. But, it doesn’t feel it. If anything, it makes you want to commit each crease from his smiles, each wisp of hair along his jawline that crawls up his cheeks—the patch that could be traced with your thumb, an almost heart shape left, ready to be stamped with a pair of lips.

Your eyes only pull from it when your drinks arrive—when the moment is broken by the real world—as you lean back, let your eyes move to your server, thanking them as you take your drink. And then, the two of you are alone.

“Might change my Instagram name.”

Brows lifting, he pauses his glass close to his lips. “Oh yeah, what to?”

“Rainier Grey—makes me sound elusive.”

Snorting, he shakes his head, sipping on his water before placing the glass down close to your hand. Fingers brushing against it, a thing which makes your eyes flick over your screen.

“I dare you.”

“You dare me?” you say. “How old are you?”

“A man too old for dares.”

You brush your index finger over the back of his fingers, lingering on it, noticing the way they flex as you do as if battling to take your hand in his.

Even if you’re determined to go halves, Frankie’s insistence beats you.

All ‘Don’t argue with me on this, alright?’ said in a tone deeper, more serious than you'd heard to date. And, it's hard not to let heat lick up your spine at the sound.

Even if he’s giving you kind brown eyes as you hold your hands up in defeat.

Smirking, you watch him pay, spotting the picture in his wallet of a boy with a missing-tooth smile almost as big as the man in front of you.

“Alright Morales, but next time it’s my treat.”

“Next time?”

Smirking, you bite your lower lip as you stand, grabbing your things. “Think you’ve earned it.”

Each step to the door feels heavy, a fluttering in your stomach—a grin that can’t be wiped, barely doused when you say goodbye to the people behind the counter.

It grows wider when he gets the door for you, the cooler, outside air creating a vortex of his aftershave all over again (that you hope finds a way to bury itself into your skin) when he opens it.

It’s odd, almost insane—the giddy way you feel as the two of you walk to your car. His fingers are so close to brushing yours, the distance to your little vehicle becoming shorter and shorter as you desperately wish for another few blocks.

Disappointment flares, trying to scratch out the happiness inside your stomach as you pause at the car, trying to smile, but finding it difficult.

Rubbing the back of his head, you watch him roll his lips. “I had a great time.”

Shifting your weight from one foot to the other, you nod, “Me too.”

“Won't have to wait long, you've promised me brunch.”

“Think I said I’d pay. But, if you want brunch, I’m down to blow your mind.”

You realise too late, mouth hanging open, the words hitting—landing in his ear as you watch him process them.

It’s sluggish, almost lagging, the way his face lights up, the way his eyes widen and his smile grows into something close to what you had across the small table—not tinged in any way by the upcoming goodbye.

“Well, if that’s—”

“Shut up,” you say, cutting him off, hand ready to push his arm, but you slide it around his waist.

Face close to his, bodies almost flush.

You watch him swallow, how his Adam’s apple bobs in his throat as he flicks his gaze from eye to eye.

Licking his lips, he smiles. “Can I kiss you?”

The moment you nod, he’s leaning—lips brushing over yours, fingers tightening on his waist as you move with him, all delicate, smooth, downright velvety as your other hand finds his neck. Feels his pulse against your palm, the warmth of him against your skin, before your lips part, deepening it, letting him have more, as much as he wants—

Then, he moves you. His palm meets your car, guiding you back until your spine meets the side of your vehicle, and he leaves another mark of him—thumb and four fingers—in the grunge the city throws at your car.

The other is the one he leaves pressed against your lips, all invisible, sweet and aching. Leaning in, your fingers find purpose on his neck, skating around, teasing a low curl as you lick into his mouth delicately.

All teasing, caressing, the arm around your waist tightening as the two of you remain almost flush against the car.

And it’s dizzying, all unexpected—but then, so is he.

More so, when you part—nose against nose, eyes opening to find his doing the same.

“I should…”

Your fingers slide, wiping his bottom lip before resting it on his chin, nail stroking against the hair there. “Okay.”

“I’d like to,” he begins, slowly stepping back, allowing cooler air to flow between where your bodies were pressed together, “Not wait to see you again—and, help you. With your project.”

Rolling your lips, you smile. “I’d like that too—both of them.”

“Alright.”

“Okay,” you smile. “Let me know.”

Nodding, he steps back up on the curb, hand wiping across his mouth.

You actually changed your handle.

Told you, I don’t back down from a dare

Guess I owe you one.

Can I cash it in at any moment?

As long as it’s appropriate, yes.

There goes my idea of daring you to strip in the shop and make out with a paint tin.

Have to just dream about that one.

Oh, I will Francisco.

NEXT CHAPTER ->

[lady-ashfade]

Blood And Pressure

Part three

Yandere!Pjo × Fem!Grisha!reader. (Platonic Yandere gods) (romantic!various characters)

-♡ Chapters: Previous // Next

-♡ characters: Percy Jackson, Luke Castellan, Clarisse La Rue, Annabeth Chase, Grover Underwood

-♡ this is a shadow & bone slight crossover. Reader is a heartrender and that's all really (maybe more in the future!)

-♡ Please note that all characters are aged appropriately, so all characters are older versions of the book characters. So 17-19 characters for these, you can choose any of them really. Just that they are older teens. (Except for Clarisse and Luke at pjo show actors)

-♡ warnings: short, yandere behaviors, obsession, stalking, slightly sick love, possessive, manipulative, gaslighting, platonic yandere too, blood powers, powerful powers but not godly, and future warnings when more chapters come out. (Luke will be back don’t worry)

“Well,” you sigh and look at Percy with sadness but tried to not show it. In this short time you had someone who dispute just meeting you, gave you something you wanted for as long as you have been here. A friend.

“You’ll be great here. Luke will take care of you.” Percy gripped the straps of his backpack at his name on your lips.

“Yeah, he seems nice..” he looked past your shoulder at the boy that must have been a year older then him. But he was much larger then he was..more muscular and a few inches taller.

“It’s hard to be in a new place, trust me I know that.” You paused for a second and he could see you running over your thoughts. Before he could piece together anything you wrapped your arms around him and embraced him.

He was stunned in place as his chest become breathless at being close to you. This was his chance, so he wrapped his arms around you and smiled at how your hair smelled sweet.

“Thank you Percy,” you whispered while still holding so tightly onto him. You cared little about anything else.

“For what?”

“Giving me a friend for as long as I can.” You pulled back from him and stepped away with a embarrassed expression. Before percy could reply, Chiron called your name and you gave him one last look and walked away.

You walked out the cabin beside the centaur with your legs practically dragging.

You felt sick to your stomach while thinking of being back in the house and being stuck there again with no one your age to hang out with. You stared at the ground while waking and you could feel Chirons gaze on you but you didn’t bother looking up.

Deep down you knew you weren’t supposed to be here. It didn’t make sense to you but you blacked out everything before this “camp” and only pieces came back to you. You remember someone training you…you remembered your powers and how to use them. And, you remember the book you had- the only thing of your old life. But not what you are.

“It’s just a silly little story,” you overheard the first night in the big house. “Just let her keep it.” Chiron convinced the god.

Now you got a taste of freedom you didn’t want to go back. You wanted to be with people your own age, you wanted friends. You think i’d go insane to spend another week trapped in that place.

“So,” a new voice creeped up in your ears. You both come to a stop and you find yourself looking up. A new girl. She was beautiful but her harsh glare and muscles set a shiver down your spine. Her eyes looked you up and down causing you to shift uncomfortably.

“She’s finally out of her cage.” Her teeth poked out from her smile and for some reason it reminded you of a shark or a lion…like she hunted pray for fun, and you were her next kill.

“Clarisse, lovely to see you.” The man smiled softly but his voice sounded different like a warning of some sort. “We are just going back, is there anything you need?” You throat goes dry when she starts to step closer to you.

“What is she? No one at camp knows but you guys seem to,” you play with your fingers under her almost threatening gaze. You remember one glare like that…Ares had one.

Not that you ever met him really but there was a dream. You were in a place with thrones around you and people sat amongst them and screamed at each other. Not much did you catch or remember of what was said, almost like you were meant to. But the subject did revolve around you.

“Tell me, what are you?” That’s when things clicked in your mind. Someone had asked that before.

“That’s enough. Go back to your cabin—”

“I’m a heartrender.”

The pair stare at you before moving their wide eyes up. You feel your blood pump faster and a growing confidence and remember who you were. Slowly coming down from high you felt, you notice their gaze wasn’t on you anymore but just above you.

“What?” You asked before taking a glance above you and see something shining bright above you. Stepping back you found yourself confused…no god was your parent, you weren’t a half blood. So why was one claiming you…

Thunder could be heard and rumbled underneath your feet. This couldn’t be right.

“That’s impossible..”

A peacock feather hung above your head in all its glory.

Taglist @maria699669 @gorgeourrific-nerd @alliriseabove @targaryenluvs @theaaeht @dabalyuteeeftia @weepingwitchofthewest @iris1587 @tulipmagnoliaisme @ameliashideout @purplerose291 @poppyflower-22 @riaaavm

[waughymommy]

MOMMY KNOWS BEST

CHAPTER 2

Sunlight splashed into the bedroom and Rebecca started to stir awake. As she opened her eyes, she realized that Brian was still in the same position he was in when they fell asleep. He was still asleep and to her delight he was still suckling on his pacifier. She managed to wriggle herself free and made for the kitchen to make her coffee. The previous evening was coming into focus and she realized that she had a lot of work to do. Her home wasn’t equipped for a baby yet. She had much to prepare, so many things to get. First thing first was to make plans for a nursery. She started to daydream about all of her plans when footsteps crept up behind her. “Good morning Rebecca,” Brian said sheepishly. She whipped around, “Rebecca? Have you have forgotten last night already?” Her voice was steady and firm, but also lovingly maternal, “Can you tell me what you are wearing?” Brian turned his eyes to floor and fidgeted. So embarrassed, he could barely find his voice. “Brian, I asked you a question. What are you wearing sweetheart?” This time he managed to allow words to escape, “Im, Im wearing a……diaper.” The last word exited as a faint whisper. “What was that? I couldn’t hear that last word.” He nervously glanced up to see her face, but he couldn’t find the strength to look her in the eyes and once again focused on the floor. “I said a diaper.” “That’s so good sweetheart. I’m so proud of my baby. Now tell me whose diaper is it.” He closed his eyes, wishing he could be anywhere but here. “It’s my…my diaper.” “You are doing so great sweetie. Now can you tell me what you were suckling on when you woke up?”

 Why won’t she just let me go. Overcome with his embarrassment, he snapped. “Forget this whole thing, Rebecca. Can we just pretend like last night happened? I shouldn’t be doing this. I just need to grow up and forget this stupid fantasy.” He stormed back into the bedroom. Rebecca took it all in stride. She knew her husband too well. She knew he would refuse to let go. He would fight it, even though he wanted this so badly. He was never going to give himself permission to just let go. It was going to be up to her to regress him. She entered the bedroom, just as Brian was about to un-tape his diaper. “Do not touch that diaper, young man!” “You can’t tell me what to do, Rebecca.” The look in her eyes made him realize his mistake. She marched over and pushed him down onto the bed. She smacked the back of his thigh as hard as he could. He let out a cry much to his surprise. “Get over my lap. And if you disobey me, you will absolutely regret it.” The sheepish feeling swept over him again and he complied. She pulled down his diaper. She laid smack after smack over his cheeks. At first he tried to grit his teeth through the pain, but after a few minutes tears streamed down his face. Tears turned to sobs as snot ran down his face. What a sight. Here was a grown man in a diaper over his wife’s knee getting a full spanking. Rebecca let up and with that same forceful maternal tone spoke up once again, “Let’s try again. Now what were you suckling on earlier?” Brian heaved his chest to catch his breath after the uncontrollable tears. “A pacifier.” “That’s right honey. So you have your diaper and your pacifier. Who uses those?” “Ba…babies.” “Great job. So if babies wear diapers and suck on pacifiers, what does that make you?” He tried to wipe the snot from his nose. There was no way to pretend that he didn’t look like a baby in this moment. “I’m a baby.” The sobs started up again, “I’m just a baby. I’m so sorry mommy.” Rebecca wrapped her arms around him and brought his face to her chest. “That’s right sweetheart. You are mommy’s baby. Mommy wants you to be her baby. I know you feel embarrassed Brian, but there is no reason to feel that way. I want this too. But you need to trust mommy and listen to me. Mommy knows best. Let me take control and I will make everything all better. Will you do that for me? He looked up and just nodded. She reached over to his bedside table and grabbed his pacifier. She gently placed it between his lips. “Once you have calmed down, I want to you to get dressed for me. Mommy has a lot of work to do. So today, you will get to be an adult. I want you to spend the day as a big boy. Go have some fun. But I want you back here this evening and we can discuss your return to babyhood.”

To be continued…

[delicrieux]

—𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐯𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭, ch.1: things of present and future importance

pairing—carmy berzatto x f!reader genre—drama, romance, age gap, boss/employee relationship warnings for this chapter—trauma, anxiety, swearing, and sum depression as dessert word count—2k

uh-oh, carmen is losing it again, this time in front of his new employee, too. 

author’s note: give me this wet dog of a man and give him to me NOWWWWWWWW

masterlist | buy me coffee☕ | read on ao3 . next >

important! some of the dialogue scenes are written as a script & dialogues that overlap are marked in [] <3

there’s a lot of things wrong with this situation, but carmen does not have it in him to care. maybe he never will, and that’s okay, because it’s his fucking restaurant and he knows he could be kinder, could be gentler, could, maybe, keep all of those splinters in his gut from hurting too bad if he took a few deep breaths just how they say in therapy. deep breaths, slow breaths, and then they look at you like you’re a toddler having a meltdown in the middle of the street and suddenly, suddenly, it’s all go fuck yourself and the door slamming shut.

carmen’s an abandoned puppy – disheveled hair and round eyes that have been unloved (by him, most of all), with his head bent and shoulders tense, not sure whether to flee or attack, but offense is the best defense and just like a bad dog he bites when frightened. it’s all teeth and anger and desperation; jaws lock and teeth sink and he doesn’t let go because he’s starving, even if what he’s fighting for is nothing but a cadaver of a place, space, body – brother? no, don’t think of mikey. he’s starving, has been for ages – approval? don’t say that – and that hunger bubbles to the surface when confronted by a minuscule imperfection, like sauce on the stove left to simmer for too long.

it’s a bad first impression, second impression, third, what the fuck, he’s good at food and not very good at math, unless math comes to food and then, maybe, he can sort it out. still bad, still fucking terrible, to be honest, and somewhere in the frying tangles of his mind he knows that yelling doesn’t help, and that yelling in front of the new hire doesn’t bode well for retention. the last enzymes of his sanity warn him – calm down, just, just calm down, carmen, you’re making it worse, you’re making it fucking worse – but the to-go machine keeps beeping, and the kitchen is too hot, and his staff is too anxious, and everything is amplified tenfold by his brother’s looming shadow that exists to him only. don’t think of mikey.

“can someone please turn that fucking thing off?” it’s his voice, laced by such scorn and a barely contained anger that makes him tremble by the pans. he’s losing his mind. sweat collects on his temple and his eyes sting from the fumes billowing onto his face, “sydney!”

“yes, chef.”

sydney’s a trooper, doesn’t bend under pressure like steel, and he sees her maneuvering in his peripherals, quick and agile to not get into anyone’s way, least of all his. briefly, he thinks about burning this place down. he blinks. the beeping stops – she ripped the cord out of the socked, dropped it onto the floor that sent an echo.

the new hire watches this shitshow unfold by her station, eyes wide and weary, ears perked for orders. her hands move – strong hands, swift hands, long fingers and rough palms that cradle a knife the way a mother would cradle a child. she doesn’t look at what she cuts, but she chops and slices and it’s all automatic – trained response? – and if carmen were to take a ruler and inspect the pieces, he’d be impressed to find that most are even and none are crooked. he’d hum, then, skim through the folders of his mind to re-check her experience, re-check the college she went to. he’d say something like, “good work, chef,” and maybe she’d smile at the bare bones of the compliment he’d given her, and when he’d be alone in his dingy office he’d pull out her resume and examine it with more interest because he’d be too embarrassed to ask.

he’ll grow familiar with those hands, with the dips and curves of knuckles and the tiger stripes of scars running down their expanse; he’ll grow familiar with the touch, too, soft despite the callouses, but only to him. not yet, though, not for another few months till a completely expected storm will halt the trains and he’ll have to drive her home. it’ll be weeks after that awkward silence in the car and stolen glances at soaked t-shirt-clad skin.

her form is unfamiliar to him – he hadn’t any interest to look, nor would he find anything curious when all is covered in oversized fabric and a blue apron. at present, she’s his colleague, nothing more, and a young one at that, too young and too talented to be stuck in such a place and with him running it.

but he will look. sooner than expected, and not for any devout reason, unless loneliness can be considered holy.

he’ll feel bad about it, too, and he’ll feel worse when everything escalates, because it always does.

for now, he cooks by the open flame, letting hot oil sizzle on his hands and the fire lick his fingers, and maybe, just maybe, he likes the pain because he knows nothing else. it’s become empirical to him. an indication that he’s still alive. that he’s still in control of something, even if he isn’t.

richie, richie, good fucking god, richie always picks the worst moments to bitch about.

“are you fucking with me?” carmen’s voice, again, a bit higher this time and just a gruff. doe eyes narrow at the bell-tower named richard jerimovich that has the audacity to look clueless, “do not fucking fuck with me right now.”

richie: shove that stick outta [fuck you] your ass, cousin carmen: are you deaf? richie: boutta go deaf if you keep yapping [don’t got time for this]; listen, i just [you just?] came to talk [talk? now? talk?] yes, to talk, look carmen: now you wanna talk? now? you wanna [jesus] fucking talk right now?

the tension in the air is sharp enough to slice through skin. everyone pointedly pretends not to hear this conversation. carmen doesn’t want to hear this conversation, either. there’s a line of people waiting. he reminds richie of that, and richie reminds that oh, he knows, and –

“richie!” it’s sydney, cheeks glowing with sweat and bandana crooked, “not now.”

richie huffs, looks at carmen with a certain exasperation, a wordless question of ‘really? really? you’re letting her run the show, now?’, and carmen needn’t be a genius to know that richie’s gonna bring this up later. he’ll never hear the end of it, he scarcely does now. it’s a headache in the making. his heart skips, or maybe stops, and for a moment he feels white-hot panic shoot through his veins. it passes with a shiver he doesn’t show. he breathes just a tad quicker – not enough air, not enough fucking air, jesus.

richie retreats with his arms raised in surrender, amused and annoyed simultaneously. a quiet follows his departure, and carmen looks at the staff, gaze jumping from one to the other before settling on her. she’s unperturbed by the chaos, working, watching, assessing, and later he’ll learn she wears that face the same way he wears his anger – as armor.

eyes meet and there’s a certain understanding that glimmers in the depths of her iris. but what could she understand? three weeks from now, he’ll come to learn that she’s used to rough edges and loud voices: he’ll learn that she’s the daughter of the chef that made his life hell back in new york, he’ll learn that she took up cooking because she wanted to appease her father, he’ll learn that her parents have split and her mother is sick and that she’s not calm but disconnected and that she tends to live in her head just like him.

but he doesn’t know that now, so he blames the shitty lighting that blinks and buzzes and, “fak, for the love of fucking god, please fix it.”

he said please this time, and it means he’s cooling off. he thankfully misses the quick look the staff shares – a mixture of relief and pity. either would have been devastating to recognize.

the only upside is that the day goes by fast. too much to do, too much to stress about, and carmen’s used to running on nothing but nicotine and adrenaline and an odd spout of desolation, and he manages everything, keeps the pieces glued together until eventually everything becomes too much and then he crumbles. still picks them up gently, like handling broken glass. he visits the storage often. closes the door for a moment and just lets himself breathe, reminds himself how to. doesn’t calm, only collects, reigns in the anger that coats loneliness. don’t think about mikey.

the staff cleans in a similar silence that douses after a storm.

the night's clear, crisp air compounded with cigarette smoke. he leans on the wall of the restaurant, staring into space, listening to the white noise of a restless city. by now, sydney has flipped the CLOSED sign; by now, his new hire is probably thinking about quitting, elbows deep in cleaning detergent as she scrubs the floor. he’ll have to go over her work and double-check. just in case there’s something more to do for hands that are always restless.

he tries to think but his head is scrambled. too many thoughts rushing in and out, loud, obnoxious, too quick to leave a lasting impact. he’s tired. he’s always tired. he wants lay on his bed and let sleep swallow him whole, but he knows that won’t happen. if he sleeps, he dreams of new york, he dreams of fire, he dreams of voices coming from the other room. one, in particular, holds a familiar rasp and drawl, punctuated by laugher, weaving a tale and stop it, don’t think about it anymore, just stop it, don’t think about –

he tosses the cigarette, watching the embers burn.

don’t think about mikey.

he enters through the back exit, stalks through the restaurant like he's haunting the place. briefly stops to stare at the mirror behind the bar. doesn't really recognize the man staring back.

the clock reads 00:30 am.

marcus was the last to leave, or so carmen assumed by the silence that shrouds the place, but as he makes his way to his office, he hears a locker shutting, and the sound rattles him so much his heart beats in his throat. all of that previous exhaustion ignites into anxiety that makes his limbs lock up.

she halts by the mouth of the kitchen, hair matted from sweat and lower lip marked where her teeth sunk, drooped eyes widening a fraction as she regards him. he can only stare at her in return, at her messy hair and pinched eyebrows and the slight downward curl of her lips.

“you could use a coffee,” she utters, and her voice is jarring – not for any unpleasant reason, but for the fact that he didn’t expect to hear it. he’ll grow to like it, crave it, even, because it’s a lovely cadence and it’ll sound even lovelier when she says his name.

he’s frightened by it now, if one can be scared of such a thing. so he bites.

“it’s almost 1 am.”

“right,” she mutters dryly.

“why are you still here?” he questions, and it almost sounds like an accusation, because he thought he was alone, only to suddenly be proved wrong. feels like an invasion of privacy, to be fucking honest, “your shift ended like an hour ago.”

“oh, I, uh, had some things to finish, so…” she trails off, but she still looks at him, and it’s unnerving, really, how she doesn’t budge under the weight of his stare. he bends under hers, though; the floor is spotless, he has nothing left to do. he misses the visible tension in her face, misses the quick swipe of her tongue on her lower lip as she opens and closes her mouth. it’ll take two whole weeks to grow entranced by the sight. misses the polite smile, too, but hears it in her voice anyway, “night.”

her sneakers squeak and echo and the door shuts. silence settles heavy on his shoulders. he’s not sure if he’s more distraught by her sudden appearance or abrupt departure. both somehow feel bad. in less than half a year, he’ll come to realize that the latter is worse.

ch.2: thank you, love you

[watsittoyah]

Along Came A Spider…2099

Warnings-Sexual content, sex dreams, time travel, oral sex, rough sex, fang play, size kink, breeding kink and slight blood play. Some obsessive behavior..

(My Spanish isn’t great, so I did use google translate to help…)

Chapter 3- Tinted Windows…

Your eyes opened and you were stretching. When you look around your room you instantly feel a panic.

Was last night a dream?

It couldn’t have been right?

You throw the sheets off of the bed and your legs felt a bit wobbly. As you run to the door you stop as a very well built Miguel O’Hara stood there with breakfast for you.

“Buen día, mi amor. How did you sleep?” He asks as he looks down at you with a smile. It wasn’t a dream, he actually is here. “I slept like a baby. How about you?” He places your breakfast down and he cups your face between his hands.

“I slept great, at least until you started snoring.” You look at him mortified. “I don’t snore!” You move away from him but he pulls you back. “I’m only teasing you. You don’t snore. But speaking of things while you were sleep, your roommate wants to talk to you.”

Your eyes shoot right to the door. “Shit, shit, shit. I need my pants. Where are my pants?” You grab a pair of sweatpants and you roll those on, tossing your ripped shorts into the trash. “I’ll be right back.” You tell Miguel as you leave the room and close the door behind you.

In the living room your see your roommate, reading a magazine. “Good morning.” You say as you stand there. “Morning.” She says as she flips the page.

Ooh she’s in a mood.

“Erica I can explain-“ She raises a hand. “You know I woke up this morning and I smelled breakfast. I was thinking, T is out of her depression funk, good for her. But then I remembered that we didn’t go grocery shopping just yet. So I left my bedroom and I see a big back in our kitchen. And that big back didn’t belong to you-”

“I can expl-”

“Let me finish. This man spoke to me, he was polite. He made me a plate, he made Milo some food. And he cleaned up after himself. Shit I’m thinking about letting him move in with us. Now is that the man who had you in a mood for the past two weeks?” You just nod and she looks up at you.

“You better had forgave him, or so help me, T I will body slam you across this apartment. Because that’s a good man you got. Hell does he have a brother?” You feel a small smile on your face and shrug.

“I don’t know we were a bit too busy last night for me to ask.” Her eyes get big. “Was it good?” She whispers. “My legs are still wobbly but girl, it was more than good.”

“You lucky bitch.” You both laugh and she gets up and pulls you into a hug. “Go, we can have that walk later. I need to go visit my mom. And make sure you two keep that in your bed room. I don’t want to come home and I see ass and tiddies where Milo eats his snacks.” You suck your teeth at your roommate but smile.

“See you later E.” She waves over her shoulder and leaves the apartment. As you walk back into your room your see Miguel getting dressed. “Where are you going?” You ask in a panic.

“I have some important business to attend to, amor. Trust me if it wasn’t important I wouldn’t be leaving your side right now.” He kisses your lips several times before walking to your door. “Oh, okay. Well will you be back later?”

“No, I’m going to be busy for the next few days, but I will text and call you every chance I get.” You give a sad smile and Miguel pulls you into a hug. “Don’t give me that look. It’s already hard enough I have to leave a beautiful woman like you alone for a while. If it were up to me I’d kidnap you.” You laugh at that but in his eyes he looked serious.

“Go, you have business and I have a breakfast that my loving hus…” You stop your words right there.

Were you about to say loving husband?

“You enjoy your day, Miguel.” You smile at him and he stands there for a moment. “You too, Tommie.”

“Here let me walk you out.” As you two walk to the front door, Miguel turns to you and he lifts your chin up so you’re staring up at him. “When I’m all done, I want to take you to dinner. Would that be okay with you?”

“Yes, I’m sure it would….are you sure you can’t stay? It’s my day off and I’m going to be all alone in this apartment for a few hours.” Just then you hear a small meow and you both look to see Milo stretching out by the window. “Don’t tempt me. You hold down the fort, Milo. And I’ll call you, amor.” Miguel pins you against the wall and he kisses you passionately, leaving you feeling light headed. “Until we see each other again.” Miguel gives you one more peck and he leaves out the door. You close it behind him and you press your back against the door, sliding down it like some love sick puppy.

“Milo don’t look at me like that.” You say as Milo watches you from across the room…

•••

It’s been a few days and you haven’t heard from Miguel. “What’s wrong baby cakes?” Your grandmother asks as you help her in her garden. “Hmm? Nothing. The strawberries look good.”

“Those are cherry tomatoes. Now I know something is wrong. Look at me.” You try to avoid her eyes but you know you can’t. “What’s wrong?” You sigh and sit down in the dirt.

“There’s this guy, and well we haven’t been talking long but…it feels like I’ve known him for a long time. Anyways he said that he would keep in contact with me and I haven’t heard from him…in the past few days.”

Your grandmother gives you a side hug. “You like this boy?”

“I do, he…just seems so familiar to me. Am I being clingy?” You ask as she helps you up off of the ground. You clean off your butt and she shakes her head. “Baby cakes, that’s the thing about you young ones. Don’t even say you’re old you’re only thirty-three, that’s young. There is no such thing as clingy when it comes to someone you care about. Call him if you want to. Leave him a message and let him know he’s on your mind. Don’t neglect your feeling. Be honest. That is what your grandfather and I do. That’s what your father and mother use to do. Be honest.”

You nod at her advice and as you go to speak you hear the back door and your grandfather comes out with a tray of drinks.

“Boy it is hot out here. How would you ladies like to take a break and have some ice cold lemonade?” You accept the glasses and hand one to your grandmother.

“Charles, you didn’t make this too sweet did you? You know your sugar levels can’t handle that.”

“Barbra, just drink the lemonade and stop worrying about my sugar levels.” As your grandparents bicker, you smile at the two. They were the best parents that anyone could have asked for.

When your parents had passed when you were thirteen, you had moved in with them. Their relationship was the blueprint for you. And maybe one day you could have what they had.

“The garden looks wonderful, Barbra. Now can I take my granddaughter to the junk yard so we can build something?” Your grandmother kisses his cheek and pats his face. “Come back to me, Charles. And bring our baby back safe.” He smiles and nods. “I will. Now come on brains. I know where we can find a mini jet engine.”

You place your empty glass down and kiss your grandmother on her cheek. “I’ll keep him safe.” You and your grandfather gets to the front of the house and you get into his pick up truck.

“What do you want to built today, brains?” Your grandfather asks as he starts driving down the street. “I’m thinking maybe a gene splicer? Or another alarm clock.” You say as you look at your phone and see a message from Miguel.

Thinking about you, amor.

You smile and text back.

I’m thinking about you too…I miss you.

You press send before you regret it and hear your grandfather cough. “You okay?” You ask concerned. “I’m alright, I’m just gonna stop by the store and grab some cough drops.”

He turns down the road and stops by a mini bodega. “I got it.” You tell him as you get out of the truck.

You walk inside and go directly to where the cough drops were. As you look for the sugar free brand you feel someone watching you. You glance around and see no one except the cashier. But he was watching the tv.

You go back to looking and you find a brand with at least 3 grams of sugar in it. “Better than nothing I guess.” You mumble as you walk to the register. You grab a bottle of water on your way up and place them both on the counter.

The cashier looks over at you and straightens. “Hello there.” He says in a friendly tone. “Hello..” You balance on the balls of your feet as he rings you out and you catch him staring.

“I hope you found everything you needed today, and if so could I take you out for a coff…” You wonder why he stops talking and when you look at him he was staring past you in horror.

You look back only to see no one was there. “Okay, well you have a good day.” You give him exact change and you go back out to the truck.

“How much do I owe you?” Your grandfather asks. You shrug. “The cashier gave it to me cause I was cute. So it’s free.” You joke. “You’re as stubborn as your father, I swear. The man wouldn’t let me pay him back for anything.” You smile and as you two pull out of the parking lot you see a large man leaving the bodega.

That looks like, nah. It couldn’t be…could it?

••••

Your hands were filthy but it was worth it for all the parts you two had salvaged. “Make sure you don’t go building something illegal. I’d hate to have to put my granddaughter in jail for the reward money.” Your grandfather says as he helps you with your parts and puts them in the back.

“I was going to say it was you and get the reward money.” You both laugh and he pats your curly hair. “You know you remind me of CJ everyday. Down to the curly hair…” Your grandfather grows silent and he takes his handkerchief out and wipes his eyes.

“I miss dad too. Sometimes when I wake up in the morning I’ll look in the mirror and see his eyes.” You two stand in silence and from the corner of your eye you see movement. You try to strain your eyes but your grandfather clears his throat.

“I know you are your fathers daughter, but promise me you won’t go into that line of work.” Here we go again. “Grandpa I know you don’t want me working as a tech engineer but I know I have what it takes. Alchemax would pro-”

“Don’t you ever say that company’s name in my presence, brains. Not after what they did to this family. After what they did my your parents.” You suck in your bottom lip and nod. “Yes sir.”

As the two of you got in the car you sit in silence. “Can we stop for some ice cream? I’ll pay.” You tell him. “We can stop and I’ll be paying. I won’t have my granddaughter spoiling me. I’m suppose to spoil you. And maybe some great-grand children if you decide to have some.”

“Here we go. Grandpa I will have babies one day but not today or tomorrow.”

“I know, I just want you to have someone. Like I have your grandmother. I want you happy. Even if it’s with a gold fish.” Your grandfather drives and you look out the window. In the rear view mirror you see a black sleek sports car following the truck. The windows to the car were tinted black so you couldn’t see who it was behind the wheel.

You have light conversation with your grandfather and keep an eye on the car. So far it’s been following you for the past ten minutes.

“…I’ll be sure to stay over for dinner tonight.” You answer as he takes a left turn and sure enough the car takes a left turn as well.

Who is following us?

When your grandfather finally gets to the ice cream parlor, the car just drives past and you feel yourself finally relax.

Maybe it was just a coincidence?

You and your grandfather head inside of the ice cream parlor and were greeted by Mary-Anne. The owner of the parlor. “Hey guys, what can I get for you two today?”

“I’ll take the cherry cone with butter crunch cream.” You give your grandfather a look. “Mary-Anne he’ll have the vanilla sugar free cone.”

He huffs. “Back in my day a man could eat a honey bun and have a bottle of coke and no one would bat an eye.”

“Well I want my grandfather to see me in my wedding dress so no complaints. Alright I’ll have the toffee special, but in a waffle bowl.” Mary-Anne gets your orders ready and your grandfather pats his pockets.

“Drat, I left it-I’ll go get it. Don’t you dare pay.” He goes to leave but you stop him. “I’ll grab your wallet. It’s in your special spot right?” You go to open the door but the handle was moved away from you and you’re staring into a pair of pretty hazel eyes.

Before he could speak you push him back out. “Miguel, what are you doing?” You ask him in a hushed tone. “What do you mean? I was just in the neighborhood.” You blink serval times because clearly this man thinks you’re stupid.

“Miguel, don’t you lie to me, why have you been following me?” He goes to lie but you raise your brow at him. “Don’t you lie! That was you leaving the bodega. That was you in the junk yard. And that was you in the car following us. Before you say no, there are hundred of ice cream parlors in Nueva York. But this one, is special because I’ve been coming here since I was a little girl. That? That is too much of a coincidence. Now tell me the truth.” You tap your foot and cross your arms waiting for his answer. He sighs.

“I was only following you because I had happened to spot you while I was out. I was going to text you but I thought that was a bit creepy. I’m sorry mi corazón. I didn’t mean to scare you.” Miguel pulls you in as he moves your arms so he can embrace you.

You wish you could stay mad at him but you can’t help but melt from his touch. Your body missed him. “I missed you.” You tell him as you look up at him. “And I missed you too.” Miguel leans down to kiss you but you two jump apart when you hear someone clear their throat behind you.

“Grandpa! I was just-”

“About to introduce me to your friend?” He asks as he eyes Miguel. Miguel goes to shake his hand. “Hello sir. My name is Miguel O’Hara, it’s so nice to meet you.” He shakes his hand back and you can tell he’s sizing him up.

“I wish I could say the same.”

“Grandpa!” You scold him. “Tell me what are your intentions with my granddaughter?” If you could have the ground open up and swallow you, you would.

“I want nothing more than to keep her safe, sir.” Your grandfather looks over at you. “Is this man someone who you like?” You feel put on the spot but you nod and feel your face warm up. “Yes.”

He huffs. “I already knew it. When I came out here the boys paws were all over your behind I thought I was going to get some grandkids tonight.”

Miguel tries to hide his laugh and you cover your face. “Grandpa I’m paying for your ice cream. I’ll even let you get the one you really want just go back inside please.” He purses his lips but goes back inside.

“I like him. He’s funny.” Miguel says as he stands there watching your grandfather. “He’s a real riot. So are you still handling your business?”

“Nope, I am officially done for the rest of the day.”

“Good, then I’m inviting you over for dinner at my grandparents.” Miguel looks a bit surprised. “So soon? Are you sure?” You lean in close. “Miguel we literally had sex and I know you have fangs.” You whisper to him.

“Right…right. Do you think your grandparents will like me? Should I bring something? Maybe I should go get a haircut.”

“Don’t you dare cut those locks of yours. You’ll be fine and you can bring my grandmother flowers. She has a garden so she’d love that. Now let me go back inside before this grumpy old man starts to tell me about condoms and other forms of birth control. And Miguel?”

“Sí amor?” You pat his cheek. “You’ll be fine. I’ll send your address. Dinner is at seven o clock sharp. Don’t be late.” You kiss his lips and walk back inside of the parlor. Your grandfather narrowing his eyes at Miguel.

“Grandpa stop that. He’s a nice guy. How much do I owe you, Mary-Anne?”

“He better be nice. He’s as big as a bear and he stares a little too hard at you. I don’t like it.”

“Mr. Valentine you should be open minded. My son, Maverick. He brought home a handsome boy the other day and I have to say he makes him happy. Tommie does your man friend make you happy?”

“Yes he does. And he is coming over for dinner tonight. Grandpa don’t even try to argue, or I’ll tell grandma about the ice cream.” He shuts his mouth as you pay and you two leave out of parlor.

You shoot Miguel a text and you cross your fingers hoping tonight goes perfect.

••••

Good thing you had a few cute clothes in your old bedroom.

You were freshly showered and you were trying to get your curls to listen. But they wanted to defy gravity and stick up. “Where is my butterfly clip?” You say as you search your dresser. You find the clip and secure it in your hair.

You then give yourself a nice look over. You were wearing a pretty flower dress that came down to your calf’s. A pair of yellow wedges and you had on a thin chain with your initials on it.

“Is this too much?” You ask as you turn and look at your plump butt in the mirror. “No, this is cute. And sexy at the same time.” You comment as you grab your phone and check the time.

Miguel had sent a text that he was outside and you ran out of your old room to go meet him. “No running.” Your grandmother calls out from the kitchen. “Sorry!” You call over your shoulder. Just before you open the door you take a calm breath and put a smile on your face.

When you open it you see Miguel standing there with two bouquets of flowers. “These Spider Lillie’s are for you, amor. And these baby breathe flowers are for your grandmother.” You smell the flowers and they smelled amazing. “Thank you, please come in. I’ll introduce you.” You lead him into the kitchen and there you look for a vase.

“Grandma, this is Miguel. Miguel this is my grandma.” Your grandmother wipes her hands dry on a dish towel and she opens her arms to him.

“Come here and let me look at you.” She touches his face and she then smiles at the both of you. “My you are handsome. Now I see why my granddaughter is taken by you.”

“Grandma, please.” You whine. Miguel smiles at her and she pats his chest. “Miguel I hope you like chicken stew with vegetables from my garden.”

“That sounds delicious, Señora. May I help you set the table?” She nods in approval and you show her the flowers Miguel had gotten you.

“Oh these will look so lovely in my garden, Miguel. Thank you.” She sniffs them and he looks over at you and mouths that he likes her. You mouth back what’s not to like?

After the table is set and the food is out, the four of you sit down and get ready to eat. You help serve Miguel and he pours you a drink. Your grandparents watches you two and feel a smile on your face as Miguel’s hand finds yours under the table.

“So Miguel, what do you do for work?” Your grandmother asks as she passes a roll to your grandfather. “I am a scientist. I work in the field that involves evolution to mammals as well as insects.”

“Ah, you're a brain just like Tommie here. I’m happy, the bloodline has hope yet.” You see your grandmother shoot a glare at your grandfather and then she smiles at Miguel.

“I apologize for my husband, his sugar is just low. Anyways, how did you and Tommie meet?” You go to speak but Miguel talks.

“It’s actually quite embarrassing. I had moved into the building about four months ago and I had first saw your granddaughter when I was bringing boxes to my apartment. I have to say I was smitten the very moment I seen her. But I was too shy to approach her first so I just stood back and waited for the perfect opportunity. So it was in the parking lot, she had dropped her water bottle and it was really flying down the walk way so I picked it up and from that very moment, we’ve been talking ever since.” Miguel says as he rubs your knuckles with his thumb.

“Oh my goodness look at you two. So cute, you know it’s as if you two have been together for years. Doesn’t it seem like that, Charles?”

“Mhm, yeah.” Your grandfather says as he eats another forkful. You eat your food and feel that dinner was going to be perfect for sure.

After a plate and a half, some dessert and coffee, it was time to go home.

“Are you two sure you had enough?” Your grandmother asks as she sees you two out. “Grandma, if we have anymore food, we will have to be rolled back to the apartment.” You says as you give her a hug and a kiss.

“Dinner was amazing, Miss Barbra. Next time I come over I’ll have to share my abuela’s cookies recipe with you.” He gives her a hug as well and she rubs his back. “You two don’t be a stranger, and Tommie make sure you call me when you two get home.”

“I will!” Miguel leads you to his car and he opens the door for you. After he makes sure you’re inside safely he closes it and walks around. You open the door and he slides in. “I like your grandparents. They’re sweet.”

“They are. And even though my grandpa was acting grumpy he likes you. Did you see his face light up when you mentioned that you liked football. I think he’s going to take you away from me.”

“Nah, he’s not my type. I like pretty women named Tommie Valentine.” Miguel starts up his car and he drives out of the driveway. As he drives you sit there in silence for a while.

“What’s on your mind?” He asks as he holds your hand. You sigh. “I was just thinking how much I don’t know about you. Like was what you said about meeting me true?”

“Of course. I seen you wearing this pretty pink dress and you were talking to Erica about watching a robotics documentary. Your hair was out and you looked happy. I wanted to talk to you but well you know.” You look at his profile and study it.

“I’m still sad you didn’t come up to me sooner. I would’ve liked to have known I had a secret admirer.”

“Well, mi princesa. The whole thing about a secret admirer is that it is a secret. And besides I’m sure I would’ve startled you with my demeanor.” He says as he glances at you.

“I guess, you are a bit intimidating. But I still don’t know much about you. Like do you have a brother? Are your parents still around? Where do you work? Why do you have fangs?” He laughs out loud and kisses your knuckles.

“Alguien tiene muchas preguntas. So many questions. Well I have a half brother named Gabriel. It’s a bit of a touchy subject with my parents but they are still around. I work at Columbia Tech. And about the fangs that’s going to have to wait until later, only because it’s a lot to explain.”

You pout at the last answer. “Okay, I guess but when you finally tell me I’m going to have notes ready.” He chuckles at your answer and shakes his head. “I know you will. Is there anything else you want to know?”

“Have you saved any people?” That question causes him to freeze and he looks at you as he stops at the stop sign. “What did you say?”

“Have you saved any people? I know being a scientist can bring on new discoveries to help further modern medicine. If that’s a touchy subject for you I can-”

He interrupts you by kissing you. Which’s causes the wind to be sucked out of your lungs. When he moves back his eyes were gentle and you can tell he wants to say something but instead he continues driving.

You sit back in your seat and you soon hear rain hit his windshield. “I’m going to sleep like a baby tonight. This rain is going to be so good. Maybe I’ll sleep with my window open.” You say as you look out the window.

“Is that so?” Miguel asks as he lets go of your hand and squeezes your upper thigh under your dress. He gets to the inside parking lot and you watch as his hand squeezes again. “Yes. Should I not sleep with my window open?”

You watch a smirk crawl across his lips. “I’m not saying no, but if you’re not careful you might let the boogeyman in that way.” Miguel backs into a parking spot and that move right there made a moan escape your lips. “Did you say something, amor?”

“No! Nope! I didn’t. But I’m a big girl, Mr. O’Hara. I don’t believe in the boogeyman.” You say as you move your hips a little so he can go further up your dress. “Oh that’s a shame. Because if you did believe in him, I’d have to come over and check to make sure he doesn’t come into your room tonight.” Miguel says as he moves his hand and runs this thumb across your bottom lip.

“Well I know the boogeyman won’t be coming into my room. But I know who I want to come.” You say as you hold his hand still and suck his middle and ring finger. Miguel’s eyes instantly turn ruby red and he presses a button to make his seat lean back.

“My my, you are a big girl. Well why don’t you show me what else big girls can do, espléndida.” You lick his fingers and bring his hand under your dress and under your panties.

He slides his wet fingers inside of you and you grip his wrist as you moan. “Miguel…” You moan out, knowing no one can hear you over the rain.

“Your pretty little pussy is sucking in my fingers so well. I wonder how many more fingers you can take.” He whispers against your ear as he uses his palm to rub your clit. You feel him insert another finger and you lean your head back, letting your throat be exposed to him. He licks and sucks your neck as he does a come here motion inside of you.

“Oh god…” You groan out as you move your hips. “You feel that? Your greedy little pussy keeps squeezing around my fingers. But I have something else it can squeeze.” He takes your hand and places it over his crotch and you moan because you want to taste him.

You move him back and you unzip his pants. “Can I?” You ask as you look at him and moan. “It’s all yours, amor. Do whatever you want to me.” He leans back and you lean over the seat as you pull his dick out and suck him. He continues to rub your pussy as you suck the head. You choke a little which turns you on because he throbs in your mouth.

“This mouth, this fucking mouth is heaven. Fuck.” Miguel moans as he grips the back of your neck. He slowly fucks your mouth as he rubs you and your eyes roll back as you moan and gag. “Fuck, don’t stop. Just keep sucking. You don’t need air right? No you don’t. You don’t need air. Seré tu aire.” You feel tears running down your face but you feel yourself getting extremely wet.

You wanted this man to fuck your throat, till he came. He bucked up faster hitting the back of your throat and your legs started to clench as you were close to coming on his seat. His head falls back as he groans that he’s coming. You tighten your throat and in just that simple movement Miguel’s whole body went still and he let out a whimpering groan as he came down your throat. You swallow deeply and you shiver as you come soon after.

The both of you were breathing heavy when you had leaned back. Miguel was staring at you, his eyes were roaming your body. You were staring at him. Already taking off your panties and climbing over the seat, straddling him.

You guide him inside of you and you both let out a moan as he stretches you out. As the base meets your pelvis you still and Miguel placed his hands on your ass and he grips you tight.

“Rock your hips for me. I’m going to show you how I like to be ridden.” You start to move your hips but Miguel guides you and he bites his lip drawing blood from his fangs.

You lean over and flick your tongue against his blooded lip and he captures your lips with his. He kisses you and slaps your ass causing you to rock your hips harder. “Just like that. Princesa, fuck me. Fuck me just like that. You’re to good. Eres tan buena conmigo. Just like that. Keep that up and I’ll get you pregnant.”

You tighten around him and you fuck him harder as you rock your hips. “You like that? The thought of me fucking coming inside of you? Oh Princesa, I’ll fuck the come inside of you. Come here.” He grabs a hold of you and you feel him scrape his fangs against your shoulder as he fucks up deeper inside of you. You let out a strangled moan and you bite into his shoulder instead.

He groans out your name and moans out he’s coming. Your body shakes with climax and you both come hard, causing a mess on his driver seat. You rest your hand on his window and he rests his head against your chest.

You look down at him and he looks up at you. “Aren’t you glad I have tinted windows?” He says causing the two of you to laugh. He gently pats your butt as you slide off of him. You wince and you fix your dress.

“Sorry about your seats.” You say feeling embarrassed. “Don’t be sorry, I was going to get my car detailed anyway. And Tommie?”

“Hmm?” You ask feeling very lust drunk. “Anything you want to ask, just ask me. I would never hide anything from you.” He then leans over and gives a peck to your lips. “Mmm, thank you, Miguel.”

“No need for a thanks. I just want to be honest with you…Oh! Make sure you tell your grandmother you’re home.”

You pick up your phone and text her then put the phone back in your bag. “Do you want to come inside and spend the night?” You ask hoping he’ll say yes. “Y…I can’t. I have something to do. But I can walk you inside.” You frown at that.

Because for some reason you feel as if Miguel is hiding more than why he has fangs.

The more you get to know him the less you actually know who Miguel O’Hara really is…

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[who-knew-a-sheep-can-write]

Get Some: Bigby Wolf x Fem!Reader (NSFW)

Chapter 5

Contains: Werewolf sex, light werewolf transformation, mating, breeding, rutting, biting, vaginal licking, rough sex, creampie

This shit long >:)

You could still feel it in your ass whenever you would walk up the stairs to the Woodlands. You could still feel the way it touched you, smacking against your bare behind and shocking the life out of you in one of the most amazing ways possible. Whenever you would feel the tug of the tight muscles in your rear it made your face heat up and your heart flutter in your ribs.

Even now, you had to stifle the soft groan that wanted to make it’s way out of your mouth as you walked up the stairs of the Woodlands. You were thankful Grimble was passed out in his dingy old chair like he usually his, snoring away with his security hat covering his entire face and his jacket draped over him like a blanket. Looking at that poor overused chair from the 80’s made you stop in your tracks as a thought illuminated in your mind.

Where was Bigby?

You stood there in the lobby for a minute, looking around hazily as you tried to put the pieces back together in your mind. It had been a hectic day at work, your mind was scrambled from the load that was dumped onto you when you first walked into the building that you actually hadn’t realized that you hadn’t seen Bigby in a few days.

And that worried you.

You immediately started for the elevator, slapping the flickering button to go up as you fished your phone from your pocket. Your texts were bare save for his last text thanking you for the coffee the morning after that night he spanked you with Crowd Control, having brought it after work knowing he had been running himself ragged all day with something. He seemed fine then, or at least as fine as Bigby normally could be on the job.

It wasn’t like Bigby to suddenly go silent like this. As much of a bland texter that he is, he still texts you.

The sharp ding of the elevator startled you, nearly making you drop your phone before you hurried inside.

Should you text him? Is he actually that busy? You would’ve heard something by now if something had actually happened like the Crooked Man case. The walls of this damn apartment building are paper thin and word travels fast with these gossiping Fables.

Your thumbs swiveled before you could even think out what you should say.

‘How’s work?’

Simple. Easy. You know exactly how Bigby will answer it in own special Bigby way with one little word: Bullshit.

But as the elevator kicked off and rose with an eerie hum to fill the dreadful silence, you watched your phone screen with bated breath for him to respond. The doors opened and he still hadn’t even opened your messages.

Why were you acting like this? Bigby’s a busy guy, it’s obvious he isn’t at your beck and call 24/7. So why are you staring and worrying at your phone like a Mundy teenager?

You stepped out of the elevator and nearly turned towards your apartment at the end of the hall when you stopped in your tracks once again. Your head turned in the opposite direction to where Bigby’s apartment was. Should you go look? Knock? See if he’s home? You worried at your bottom lip before you decided that a little peek wouldn’t hurt. If he wasn’t home, he would probably be in his office swamped with paperwork or out on the shitty streets of New York City with a cigarette clamped between his teeth as he did his best to blend in with the Mundy crowd.

You knocked first, you weren’t rude after all. He didn’t call out asking who it was, it was just silence. Not even his tv had been left on and you couldn’t hear the old rotary phone being kept off the ringer. You fished out your keys and pulled out Bigby’s key from the ring and slotted it into the steel knob. The door was locked, the deadbolt unlocking with a heavy clunk before you creeked it open, revealing an empty apartment-

Until your eyes landed on the overgorged talking pig fast asleep in Bigby’s trusty chair. Your shoulders deflated as worried settled in deeper into your gut. You walked right up to Colin and tapped at the thick skin of his shoulder, startling the snoring pig from his dreams. He shot you a dirty look and snorted before realizing it was you and not Bigby.

“Do you know where Bigby is?” you questioned the animal.

Colin seemed taken back by your question before he cocked a fleshy brow.

“Bigby? I thought he was at your place?” That made you feel even worse. Colin slid off of Bigby’s chair with a heavy grunt as his hooves hit the floor. He trotted up to the small side table and did his best to stand up on his hind hooves for a brief minute, just enough to grab the cigarette carton Bigby had left on the table. “A little help?”

You rolled your eyes and fished a cigarette out of the box and lit it with the spare lighter left behind.

“I haven’t seen Bigby in a few days.”

The pig shot you a smug look, puffing smoke from his nostrils.

“Oh, you mean after he spanked you all-”

“Colin,” you glared down at the pig who only snorted out a laugh.

“No, I haven’t seen Bigby. Sorry.”

You left Bigby’s apartment with a huff, locking the door behind you and starting down the hall once again. You paused at the elevator, eyeing it as though it were Pandora’s box, like it would magically give you the answers. Should you go up to his office? Was he really just overworking himself and falling asleep up there amongst the cigarette piles and mountains of paperwork?

You decided that it wouldn’t hurt to go look. If he was actually there, that would soothe your tensed nerves for sure, even if you got to see him for only a minute before he would have to rush off to deliver something to Snow or whoever.

The ride felt even longer than the last despite only going up one floor instead of two. The hallway was empty once again, allowing you to walk faster than you normally would to Bigby’s office where you found the door closed and locked. Through the frosted glass and chipping black letters you could see the lights were off and nobody was home. You sighed through your nose, pulling out your keyring again and fishing out his office key. He had given you a spare after he kept locking himself out of his office by accident one month, feeling bad that he would have to keep asking for Flycatcher to come help him.

His office was… the usual. Dare you say it looked as though he tried to clean up a bit in here. For starters, the mountain of stubbed out cigarette butts he had stacked on an opened up chinese takeout carton was thrown out in the trashcan in the corner and he had organized the filing cabinets in his usual Bigby fashion - not by sorting the alphabetically but by how thick their files were. It’s not a shock that Gren and Bluebeard have some of the thickest files.

It didn’t look like he had been in here for a few days either. No freshly stamped out cigarettes, no cups of coffee half drunk, no takeout boxes stinking up the painfully small office. Even the file that was in front of his chair was a little old, having been dated to the morning of your little rendezvous with the paddle. You couldn’t help the little laugh that escaped you when you opened the file and saw Bigby had wrote in bold red letters ‘Bullshit’ on the first page.

Typical Bigby.

You closed the file as worry bubbled in your chest like a cauldron. Where was he? You dreaded to think that he was hurt or even… worse.

You had to find out.

You locked Bigby’s office behind you and started for the Business Office. You hated the way your throat tensed up at the mere thought of Bigby getting hurt. You saw how mangled he was after his fight with Mary, and that honestly scared the shit out of you. And to think that something like that could happen again?

You opened the door to the Business Office, shocked to find nobody around. You stepped in, the magical door closing softly behind you as you walked deeper in. It looked like they were in the process of moving things around, bookshelves mismanaged as books themselves fluttered and floated from shelf to shelf. The large pirate ship creaked eerily in the background. The enchanted knights armors were alive for the first time in awhile, pushing and pulling furniture around on King Cole’s orders. You watched as two knights heaved a big bookshelf in front of you, and as they passed you saw it sitting before you: The Magic Mirror.

Long healed since the shattering incident, the crystal clear glass seemed to fade into the usual swirling green when he sensed you looking in his general direction. You swallowed thickly and walked up, fighting back the whimper that nearly escaped you when you got close. You don’t even think you could figure out a rhyme right now you were that frazzled.

Luckily you didn’t have to.

You heard the flapping of big feathery wings before you felt eyes on you. You felt him soar over your head before he landed on the genie lamp long since vacated. You turned to see Bufkin sitting tall, bald hands placed on his hairy knees as his tail swished behind him with his usual delight.

“Hello, Ms. (L/n)! It’s been a while since your last visit here,” Bufkin smiled at you. For such dark eyes, they really did sparkle with life and joy. “How are you doing today Miss?”

“I- Not so good Bufkin.” You noticed the flying monkey’s face hold some sort of hesitance, brows knit with slight worry. Though he had no irises, you could tell he was looking between you and somewhere else behind your shoulders. “Bufkin, you wouldn’t happen to know where Bigby is, do you?”

The little guy froze, wings stiffening and tail becoming straight as an arrow.

Gotcha.

“M-Mr. Bigby?” he echoed back to you. His wings drew in close to his shoulders, almost like he was trying to hide himself from your gaze. “No, ma’am!” he answered all too quickly. “Come to think of it, I haven’t seen Mr. Bigby in a few days!”

You made to press the monkey further when you heard two voices pipe up from somewhere amongst the mess. It was Snow - of course it would be, the woman never gets a chance to rest around here since her promotion to Deputy Mayor - and a male’s voice that sounded familiar to you. Bufkin didn’t dare take off with you this close, knowing you could snag a hold of his tail if he tried to get away, so he sat there and watched the shadows on the bookshelves grow larger.

“... should be go to go in a few more days,” you caught the tail end of what the man was saying.

You heard sigh in defeat, her heels clacking against the freshly polished floor.

“I suppose I should ask Beast if he can take over until Bigby’s back,” she stated unenthusiastically.

Your interest was peaked to say the least. Bigby wasn’t here?

The shadows eventually gave way to reveal a very tired Snow White at the end of her rope as well as Dr. Swineheart, both of whom seemed shocked to see you standing there with Bufkin as still as a statue. You saw Snow eye the doctor nervously out of the corner of her eye, but the doctor stood firm and emotionless as he always is.

If Dr. Swineheart was saying those things about Bigby, it really drove it home that something was wrong. Was Bigby sick? You’ve never seen the man sick a day in his life aside from being sick of work and the accompanying annoying fables. Injured? You’ve seen that plenty of times, that’s for sure.

“(Y/n)-” Snow swallowed thickly before putting on her best false smile. “What brings you by?”

“I think you know the answer to that, Snow.” You took a few steps forward and Bufkin took his chance, flapping off somewhere amongst the clutter, but you paid him no mind. “What’s wrong with Bigby?” you eyed the doctor warily.

“I assure you, Miss (L/n), that Sheriff Wolf is fine. He just needs… rest.”

“Why’d you word it like that?”

It was becoming more and more obvious that something was up. Snow shuffled her stance from one foot to the other, folding her hands to her front as she avoided eye contact.

“It’s complicated. Bigby cannot have visitors, especially you. I’m sorry.” You took slight offense to his statement and you saw the doctor regret his choice of words. “Miss (L/n), I promise you, he’s fine. He just needs to be alone for now.” He turned his attention back to Snow for a moment, nodding his head. “I must be off. I have to start planning for my visit to the farm. Miss White.” He spared you a worried glance. “Miss (L/n).”

He quickly exited the business office, not sparing either of you a passing glance as the door opened and shut behind him.

Snow seemed to shrink under your gaze, avoiding eye contact and all. You’ve never seen her look like this before.

“Snow-”

“(Y/n)-” You both stopped and made eye contact. The tension was so thick in the air you could choke from it let alone snuff it out like it was a dragon. Snow cleared her throat and you let her do the talking. “(Y/n), Bigby really can’t be around you right now. Trust me,” her gaze faltered, looking away with an odd look of embarrassment on her porcelain face. Was she… blushing? “I saw it happen before the first time it happened and…” she glanced your way again, “it wasn’t pretty.”

It took you a minute to piece together what the fuck she was getting at when it hit you suddenly.

“Where is he?”

Snow’s eyes widened.

“(Y/n), Bigby wouldn’t want you to see him like this-”

“Where is he, Snow?”

It took her a minute, obviously weighing her options here. She knew you weren’t going to stop looking anytime soon, and she knows Bigby won’t be able to talk himself out of it this time.

“He’s in the basement. In one of the cells towards the back of the cellar.” You nodded, thanking her under your breath. As you turned to leave, Snow stopped you with a gentle hand on your shoulder. “Wait.” You spared another glance at the deputy mayor who was still red in the cheeks from beating around a topic like this. “Bigby… Bigby won’t be like how he normally is.”

“Thanks, Snow.”

This place gave you the chills, filling you with a horrid sense of dread as you trekked slowly through this place. Light by dim lighting, you followed Snow’s directions through the rarely used crypt, even catching a glimpse of the witching well on your journey. Every step you took echoed, the beams in the ceilings were caked in cobwebs as spiders and other insects crawled around. It smelled musty down here, damp with the sweet smell of rot swirling around. It made your stomach rumble uncomfortably.

You eventually came up to the cell blocks, opening the heavy and very enchanted door, nearly throwing your back out as you barely opened it enough to squeeze through before it slammed shut behind you. The sound boomed down the hall. If Bigby hadn’t sniffed you out the second you stepped into the basement, he knew you were here now. You spied a light on at the end of the long hallway and started for it.

The entire way down, you could hear this odd scratching sound echoing from the room along with deep animalistic groaning and whining. You stalked forward encased in the shadows, but you knew it didn’t do anything for you.

He could smell you.

You could hear him snuffling and snorting behind the door, see the looming shadow of him pass over what little light was let out by the few short bars acting as a window. He was panting, his voice deep and heavy. There was something heavy and metallic rattling in the room as you heard his lumbering footsteps roam around as much as the room allowed him to.

You made it to the door, eyeing the handle as though it were the bane of your existence before you peered into the room only to be startled when Bigby’s clawed hand sank its nails into the door. You jumped back with a shout, your heart throbbing in your chest and blood roaring in your ears.

“Get out,” Bigby ordered.

His voice was pained, holding himself together as much as he can, but even you can tell by the way he was breathing that his mind was dwindling.

There was a wolf at the door.

“Bigby, let me help you,” your words barely made it out of your mouth. It felt like you had shot him with a silver round, your lover openly groaning as he denied his primal nature bubbling to the surface. He can’t do it, he can’t let it happen. He’ll hurt you. “Bigby, pleas-”

“Get out!” he boomed even louder.

“No!” You stood your ground, getting close to the door again as Bigby quickly retracted his claws from the bars. You stopped again when your eyes met bloody red ones. Not yellow, not those glowing golds, but red. You’ve never seen them red before. “Let me in, Bigby.”

He was half-turned already, but he looked so much bigger than he normally does. He looked more animalistic, more primal. And fuck- the way he was glaring at you through the bars had your entire body feeling feverish with carnal need. His gaze softened ever so slightly, your lover fighting for more control over the beast.

“(Y/n), I don’t wanna hurt you,” his voice was so soft.

“You won’t,” you wrapped your hands around the bars. “I trust you. You need me and I wanna help.” He hesitated, near pupilless eyes boring into your soul. “Please.”

Bigby was fighting a losing battle with himself, the scales of judgment were starting to tip in favor of his unfavorable side. He could hear the call of the wild baying loudly in the back of his mind. His body was coated in a sheen of sweat that did little to cool his overly hot body. He hated the way his ruts made him feel, like he was some sex-hungry beast Mundies make werewolves out to be in movies and smutty novels. To say he’s terrified out of his mind was a major understatement as he eyed the keys to his cell behind you. As you turned and followed his eyes, he nearly barked at you to leave, wanting to back out at the last second only to give in completely as his hardened cock seemingly throbbed at the sight of your backside.

He was ashamed of himself.

The keys felt odd when you took them down from their hook, the enchantments sending odd tingles down your fingers and settling deep in your wrist. As you turned back, Bigby’s eyes pinned you in your spot for a minute once again, your lover growing hungrier and hornier for you as the seconds passing like sand in an hourglass.

“Back up, Bigby.”

He did as you commanded, stalking back into the barely lit cell as you slotted the key into the heavy lock. It took a minute for the enchantments to finally open the damn door, almost like the witches on the thirteenth floor were giving you one last chance to get out of there. You quickly slipped into the cell, closing it behind you, turning your back to Bigby as you locked the door.

That was your mistake.

As the lock settled with a heavy thunk, Bigby had suddenly pinned you up against the cold wood, one of his hands suddenly fisting the material of your jacket as his other hand dug grooves into the stone brick wall beside your head. His nails were long and dark like obsidian, glinting dangerously as his hairy arm slowly grew bulky. You could feel his hot breath hitting the side of your face as you struggled lightly, letting out a short whimper when Bigby pressed himself closer to you.

He was completely naked.

It made your cheeks heat up for sure, especially when his cock pressed into your backside. Your eyes widened, mouth hanging open just a bit when you felt all of him. Even something else you’ve never felt before digging into your ass as Bigby shamelessly rutted into you. What was that? It was like something was swollen at the base of his cock. Was that also a part of his rut?

You could feel Bigby growing behind you, his strength increasing, see his hand and arm growing hairier and thicker with rippling muscle. You couldn’t help the meek little noise that came from you when Bigby leaned down and dragged his fangs lightly against your exposed neck, his hot breath still held the taste of cigarettes as he panted and sniffed at your skin.

Your back was suddenly against the door now, Bigby’s monstrous hands caged you in. You couldn’t help it when your eyes widened at the sight of him. He had fully turned, looking like something out of a horror movie with how he towered over you and how saliva clung to his fangs and nearly drooled from his muzzle. His eyes were hypnotizing, so big and so bright, you oddly felt calm despite a near eight foot tall werewolf was in front of you ready to fuck the lights out of you.

It’s not like you hadn’t seen Bigby like this before, hell, it’s how you both really got acquainted and soon turned it into your blossoming relationship. You’ve just never seen him like this, and you couldn’t lie to yourself: This was actually kind of hot.

And then you saw it. Your eyes made contact with his dick, and there was indeed some swelling at the base of his cock. He was so much bigger like this. Would that even fit inside of you?

“Bigby,” you whispered his name, making eye contact again. You could tell he was fighting his urges still, pupils contracting and growing, ears swiveling, claws sinking in deep into the stone. “Let-Let me get my clothes off, okay? Please?”

Bigby was lucid enough to understand that, eyes lighting up as his shoulders eased up, lowering his hands to let you out.

You quickly stepped away, shucking your jacket off of your shoulders and peeling your shirt over your head. You toed off your shoes and unhooked your bra, earning you a deep growl from Bigby as he watched your breasts be freed. As you went to unbutton your pants, you took a little inventory of his makeshift room. There was a cot in the corner with a thin looking pillow and an even thinner blanket. There was a plain wooden end table with a lamp turned on. In the other corner was a small table with a single chair, an ashtray was filled with ash and stubbed out cigarettes. Laid across the back of the chair was a change of clean clothes for Bigby when he was finally out of the woods, his usual attire of dark slacks, a button up and his tie.

When you wriggled your pants down your legs and kicked them to the side, Bigby advanced, pinning you to the wall again. You couldn’t help the moan that left you when his tongue licked a solid stripe up your neck, inhaling your scent from your pulse point. His cock pressed against your stomach, his body was radiating such intense heat, his fur started to stick lightly as sweat gathered on your skin. You placed your hands on Bigby’s hairy shoulders, nails biting in, caressing the brawny muscle as Bigby lapped at your skin.

He gathered you into his beastly arms, crooning and huffing against your skin as you combed your fingers through his fur. You moaned as his tongue traced up the column of your neck to your jaw, licking the salt that gathered on your skin and inhaled your sweet sweat. His claws dragged lightly over your flesh, catching at your panties that you had yet to take off. He knotted his fingers in the backside of your panties and tore them completely off of you, dropping the scraps of fabric to the floor before he lifted you off of the ground.

You clung to him, your legs although were starting to shake drew up to his waist, knees digging into his sides as you couldn’t link your ankles behind him. You only let go when he carelessly dropped you onto the cot, batting the blanket away as the thing rattled and shifted. Bigby had snatched the edge, the metal bar caving in under his monstrous grip as he yanked it away from the wall to give himself more room. He enjoyed the little gasp you let out, red eyes hypnotized with the way your breasts swayed at the sharp movements.

The cot was old but sturdy, although, the poor thing may not last long with how riled up Bigby was. It was at least fifty years old, probably an old one used from some war. You knew Bigby served in some wars, you saw the medals he received stuffed into one of his dresser drawers. The green canvas bedding was cold, a blessing against your hot and sweaty back as Bigby towered over you.

You felt a little embarrassed under his gaze, drawing your legs closed and pulling them up a bit to hide your cunt that was absolutely soaking wet at the thoughts of what Bigby could do to you. As if you offended the wolfman, Bigby snatched at one of your ankles with a vicious snarl curling his muzzle and spread your legs wide open. You winced as his claws sank into your ankle, blood beading at the flesh as Bigby pulled you roughly to the edge of the cot. Bigby’s other hand snatched at the meat of your waist, pressing you against the cot so you couldn’t get away. He spread you wider, crying softly as you felt the stretch burn painfully sweet between your legs. You shivered when you felt Bigby’s breath ghost over your cunt, the wolfman hunching over to sniff and indulge himself in your scent.

A loud whine slipped from you as Bigby’s tongue lapped up your cunt, his long tongue spreading your nether lips open as the tip dipped nearly into your womanhood. He growled with pleasure, almost like a purr as he drew himself closer to you. His fur clung to your sweaty skin. His shoulders were too wide and brawny, forcing you to toss your other leg over his back, the heel of your foot digging into his dense muscles.

You sighed and moaned, squeezing your eyes shut and digging the back of your head into the strong canvas. The smooth material drank up the sweat that beaded against your skin, Bigby’s body heat blanketed you, nearly suffocating you. Your hands latched onto his fuzzy shoulders, tugging on the fur and pulling deep snarls from your lover.

His tongue dove even deeper inside of you, licking at your velvety walls, tongue fucking you. The tip of his tongue reached depths inside of you neither his tongue nor your fingers could reach. You couldn’t last long like this, already feeling an immense pressure building up inside of you, the wolfman snuffling and groaning as he felt your walls flutter against his tongue. You cried even louder when he bared his fangs, grazing them against your sweet cunt to pull more noises from you. He could get high from the noises you made alone, but now?

You came suddenly on the wolfman’s face with a loud cry that rattled off of the stoney walls and echoed down the hall. If anyone was listening, they would surely be red in the face and turning around right then and there.

He wasn’t done just yet. Although he seemed satisfied to have dragged you through your first climax of the soon-to-be many, he still lapped at your cunt with his agile tongue. You whined and wheezed, begging pitifully for Bigby to let up only for it to fall on deaf ears. He lapped at your sweet nectar as though you were the fountain of life, crooning at how perfect you tasted to him. His grip on you was tight, keeping you spread like a deer about to be dressed, eating you out as though you actually were.

“B-Bigby-” you whispered out. “Bigb- Please! AH!”

He nearly drew another sweet orgasm to the surface, pulling away at nearly the last second and left you feeling hollow and blazing hot. You whined like a child, scratching at the bedding of the cot like that would do something, eyes flying open as you propped yourself up on your elbows.

Your eyes came face to face with his cock.

You felt the color nearly drain from your blazing hot cheeks. He was big. Much bigger than you’ve taken from him before. His cock was standing at full attention, hefty balls taut with his seed that was to coat your womb white, the swelling was still present at the base of his dick. Semen had leaked a bit from his head, rolling down his thick shaft, following along the vein that ran along the underside of his cock. You whimpered, eyeing between his wolfish face and his dick as he slowly advanced. Your ankle was still in his grasp, the wolfman pulling you to the edge completely so your legs fully dangled off, the edge of the cot’s metal bars cushioned your ass that laid half off the bed.

Bigby kept your ankle in his grip, his claws lightening up as blood started to roll down your calf towards your knee. His other hand caught his weight as he came close to you, planting it on the metal bar beside your head, the metal groaning and the canvas hissing under the added weight. The poor thing could probably handle two people sleeping on it, not one person and one big werewolf. Bigby’s eyes were haunting, dual seas of red, pupils dilating, your reflection obvious in the shine of his eyes.

He hesitated. You could see the strain in his eyes. He was giving you one last chance to get the fuck out of here. You only sealed your fate when you lazily laid your arms over his broad and fuzzy shoulders, nails lazily scratching him, your eyes practically begging him to fuck you until you couldn’t walk.

Until it took.

Just the thought had your cunt tightening, begging to be filled again by his thick girth. You suddenly loved the idea of being bred by him and loathed the idea of his warm and fertile seed leaking out of your abused pussy to the cot below.

You wanted to be bred.

You winced when you felt his head roughly press against you, rutting his hips in a way that slowly spread you out again. An immense pressure erupted from your passageway until a horrible pain nearly split you apart. Your core felt like it was being torn apart, your cunt aching as Bigby mounted you. You screamed and squeezed your eyes shut, your mouth hanging open as Bigby sank his cock deeper inside of you. He wasn’t quiet himself, baying and crooning and howling as your walls clamped around him. His tongue lolled out of the side of his muzzle, drool as well as your climax from minutes ago made his fangs glisten in the low lighting. He huffed and puff, snapping his maw as his claws once again sank into your ankle until it made your toes curl and your leg tense and seize in pain. His claws next to your head tore into the metal, squeezing it way beyond repair, way worse than what he had done when he dragged the cot out of the corner, bending it in a way that made the cot kind of buckle and tilt.

“Bigby!” you sobbed aloud.

He snapped his jaws again, slobber wetting the side of your face and neck as he took in your sweet scent again, huffing against the side of your neck as he fully sheathed himself inside of you. You felt the swelling at your cunt, his tip kissing your cervix. It was like he was slotted in perfectly, your entire passageway stuffed with his cock to the point you worried for when he would start thrusting. He continued to rut inside of you, barely rocking his hips in a slow motion, his head teasing your tight cervix and pulled another orgasm from you. You sobbed, chest heaving, your lungs feeling like they would pop from the pressure that's built up inside of you. Your stomach was in knots, your brain lost in a thick fog, your vision going completely white for a few seconds.

He slowly started to rock his hips a little faster, working his way up to a steady pace, fucking you into the cot as his thrusts started to get rough. You lost your voice, only able to gasp and sigh and whimper, eyes drooping as Bigby mounted you, fucking you like the animal he is.

He nosed your head to the side and started licking at your neck, favoring right where your pulse pressed against your skin.

His heavy balls smacked against your cunt, the swelling started to get a little bigger, Bigby’s thrusts began to get rougher and rougher.

He suddenly pulled out of you and turned you over so you were forced onto your hands and very shaky knees. Bigby placed a hand on your upper back between your shoulders and forced you down onto the cot face first so your ass was sticking straight up. Bigby wasted no time in remounting you, fully sheathing himself up to the root in one fluid motion. Your scream cut off with a choke, eyes flying wide open as your entire body seized up from another orgasm. Your hips nearly fell had it not been for Bigby wrapping one burly arm under your belly to keep you where you were. You groaned, feeling your body growing heavy and weary. Your entire body felt sluggish, ready to tap out, but Bigby had other plans.

He fucked you, fucked into you, rocking your near-limp body in the opposite way he was fucking you to really drive it home. The cell was filled with the quick slapping of his cock against your flesh, wet and warm and full of your breathing.

Bigby suddenly snapped his jaws and snarled, feeling his saliva lightly splatter against your naked back. You felt it, the twitching of his cock inside of you rutting against your velvety walls. The swelling at the base of his cock suddenly became thick, and in a few more thrusts, it was like Bigby was locked into you. You groaned, feeling him sink fully into you, the pressure building up, the head of his cock nestled right in that special little area inside of you. Bigby ground himself inside of you, growling and crooning as he licked at your body. His tongue ran along the curve of your neck and shoulder, favoring the crook as his teeth ghosted over your skin.

You’ve been bitten by Bigby before, plenty of times, but you knew this one would be different. You didn’t know much about this kind of thing, but you had a feeling this was something to do with his rut.

He sank his teeth into the meat of your shoulder, locking his jaws around the joint as he ground himself inside of you, desperate for any friction he could get. You screamed, tears streaming down your cheeks as you felt his fangs tear into you before a calming sensation rolled over you, making you feel all warm and fuzzy inside, calming your nerves as Bigby unhinged his jaws from your body. He lapped at the blood that dribbled loose, tongue rolling over the divots he made in your skin.

Bigby suddenly seized, arching his back, lifting his muzzle into the air towards the ceiling and howled, cumming deep inside of you. You moaned along with him, nails dragging down the length of the cot bedding as you felt thick ropes of his semen right into your waiting womb. He halted all movement, the head of his cock pressing right up against your cervix as he painted your womb white. The swelling around the base of his dick acted like a damn plug for the most part.

You groaned, eyes fluttering to stay open. You were practically drooling, like putty in Bigby’s beastly hands, limp and heavy and full of his cum. You felt so warm it was almost impossible.

You don’t know how long it took for the swelling to go down, but it slowly did, allowing Bigby to slowly unsheath himself from you. He gently place your belly down onto the cot and you shivered, missing his warmth at your back as well as his cum now seeped from your aching pussy and onto the canvas beneath you.

Bigby hovered over you again, a gentle croon pushing from his muzzle as he lapped at the bite that was now lightly throbbing against your shoulder. You whimpered, trying to push yourself up from the canvas only for Bigby to push you back down, and rather forcefully.

You were about to protest, trying to form words when you felt Bigby try to clamber onto the cot.

And then you felt it again, poking against your ass, slowly rutting against your cunt and using his spilled semen to lube himself back up again.

[milkypompon]

Chapter 1 | Midnight Musings

pairing: Marc Spector x Reader (implied Steven Grant x Reader, implied Jake Lockley x Reader)

summary: Even after a year living with Steven and Jake in the headspace, Marc struggles to quiet the buzzing chatter. He finds himself frequenting Coffee for Two, a place where brewing roasts fill the air and the cookies are as sweet as the barista.

content: coffeeshops, fluff, innuendo (thanks to Jake), poor shy and tired Marc who just needs his drink

wc: 1.2k

a/n: HELLO Moon Knight luvers!! I'm sweeping out this fic since I've had it around for some bit!

Moon Knight Masterlist || Main Masterlist

Coffee Doodles Masterlist

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—

Working the closing shift has its disadvantages… and occasional perks. 

People weave in and out of the café from the crack of dawn, then scurry away when the moon is at its highest. Rarely did they stay to settle down on the rickety chairs late into the night, ever so eager to drag themselves home after a long day.

You hardly remember the customers’ faces, usually down-turned with a sour look of annoyance on their phones who impatiently tap their shoe on the wooden floors. 

The man in front of you with waves of hair swept back to reveal his gruff demeanor, albeit a ruggedly handsome one, wasn’t any different from the others. Yet, you try to catch his eye as he sends a text. 

“You work the late hours like me?” You ask and crack a smile, immediately regretting it after realizing how wry it must’ve appeared from your exhaustion. 

He merely grunts in confirmation.

You clear your throat and idly tap your fingers on the granite countertop. “What can I get for you then?”

“Just a cup of coffee. Make it black.” He retrieves a leather wallet from his jacket pocket and pulls out a few quid in exchange for the kick of energy he desperately needs. 

“Your name?”

“Marc.” 

You whisper his name to yourself before reaching beside you to grab a paper cup and scrawling it on there.

Marc watches you catch your bottom lip between your teeth in fierce concentration as you doodle a smiley face next to his name. He wonders if you did this for every customer or if it was a way to keep yourself awake.

Before you made your last mark, you saw him through your peripheral vision staring at you intently. Usually, customers appreciate the little pick-me-up from the drawings you made. You inwardly wince for holding him up. “Sorry, you must be in a hurry”. You quickly cap the pink Sharpie and toss it into a small ceramic pot filled with other writing utensils. 

Marc notes how some were more appropriate or journaling, like the bright glitter pens, than for work. But it was well-loved all the same since it was nearly flatlining from use. 

“I’ll have it out for you in a minute.”

He shook his head, the black locks of curls bouncing slightly. “No rush, really.”

You situate yourself behind the coffee machine, tinkering with the buttons and opening the wrinkled bag of coffee beans. The warm scent permeates the air, even more so when the brown liquid dribbles into the cup. You quietly sigh in relief at the simplicity of the process. You’ve had a fair share of blended and iced drinks often brought back to the counter by unamused customers, claiming that it didn’t taste the same as last week even though there was a clear-cut recipe list plastered in front of your face when you made their orders. 

You carefully fiddle the cap over the cup and hand it to Marc with a tired smile. 

Marc felt your fingers brush along his. It was warm, but he wasn’t sure if it was just from the coffee. Regardless, he nodded in thanks and was soon swallowed by the darkness as he left to sip his coffee at nearly 1 a.m.

The London weather constantly nipped at his fingertips. 

He curses under his breath and shoved his free hand into his jacket pocket. He longed to settle back into his flat and curl up into layers of blankets, which was truthfully a sorry excuse for warmth because of the godawful heater he just couldn’t find the time to fix. His mind drifted to your touch, it was light, brief if anything. But it sparked a warmth that a blanket or a cup of coffee couldn’t quite satiate. 

A snarky voice filled his headspace, Fuckin’ touch starved.

Marc rolled his eyes. Shut your damn mouth, Lockley. 

He crosses the road, not bothering to look left or right, there’s only him, the moon, and some bloke smoking a dying cig by a closed convenience store. When he squints he saw Steven picking at the loose threads of his shirt in the window. 

Quite a looker with a pretty voice. 

Marc sighs in response, Not you too. 

He takes one last gulp at the bitter drink before raising it over the tin can filled with other rubbish. The streetlamp’s yellowish light caught your handiwork on the cup, his name with half a smiley face messily written with your pink Sharpie. He chuckled at the unfinished doodle, remembering how your eyes widened when you realized he was watching you closely. 

Like a deer caught in the headlights, Steven remarked.

Marc chuckles at his words.

–

It was another closing shift. 

You begrudgingly accepted it from your coworker who reminded you with a smirk that the pastries behind the glass was up for grabs the moment you flipped the “closed” sign by the window. Anyone with half a mind would have sticky hands for the chocolate croissant dusted with powdered sugar. Just the thought of warming it up in the oven toaster as you wipe the counters and stocked the shelves with mugs made you a little hungry. 

Maybe it wasn’t a good idea to be eating sweet treats considering the time, but said sweet treats were going straight into the rubbish-bin if you didn’t house them in your stomach. 

You happily hum a familiar tune you heard on the tube while sliding the glass door separating you and your beloved reward for the hard work.

A pleasant jingle of a bell rang over the front door abruptly ending your monotonous tasks.

You toss your head over your shoulder. “Sorry, we’re closed—” 

The same man (Marc, was it?) nods down in apology for entering after hours. He truly was a man of few words.

“Oh! It’s you. I was afraid you were a customer with a complicated drink coming in at the last second.” You dusted your fingers down the seams of your apron and beckoned him inside. “But, it’s the same as last night?”

Marc runs his fingers through the tufts of his curls, the strands wrapping around each finger. You wondered what it felt like. The thought in passing rises to the forefront of your mind. It left as quickly as it came when you hear him call your name after reading it across the embroidered stitching of your apron.

The corners of his mouth turn up in amusement, hardly an exchange for pleasantries, but it was more than what he’d given before. He slides a few quid on the counter. “Yeah, coffee. Black.” 

You pluck your pink Sharpie and begin to write his name on it. After a few quiet moments of gurgling from the machine, you hand the cup to him. 

He furrows his eyebrows.

You quip with a grin. “Did I manage to mess up the easiest order known to man?”

“No.”

“Then what is it?”

“You didn’t draw on it this time.”

You almost laugh but the serious crease on his face was a testament to his genuine disappointment. “Well it wouldn’t be very good service if I didn’t complete my job, eh?”

His eyes shift to the glass covering the pastries as if seeing something you couldn't. “You wanna talk about good service?” A playful lilt tugs at his voice, almost unfamiliar. 

Before you can respond, he mumbles a thank you and scurries out of the cafe. 

Did he just flirt? And… get embarrassed?

I'd love to hear your thoughts and my inbox is always open for requests or if you want to chat!

[iinumakiis]

Damned If I Do Ya (Damned If I Don't)

summary: gojo satoru is your average frat boy; hosting parties, serial playboy, and somehow managing to pass his classes all the same. unfortunately for him and his normal day to day, he finds himself becoming far more interested in a new addition to his friend group: you.

pairing: gojo satoru/you

warnings: college au, slight smau inclusions, fem!reader, cussing, eventual smut, angst if you squint, gojo's a lil bit of a whore, not proofread, chapter two of multiple

taglist: @sad-darksoul @seternic @imaddicted-b @fairyvibez @vi-ola666 @laviefantasie @ssetsuka (ask to be added!)

masterlist / prev chapter / next chapter

Your phone clicks shut, effectively leaving Gojo on read. Why did he want you to come to a party of all places? Let alone on your first day? A sigh you didn't know you were holding escapes you, running a hand through your hair.

Deciding to avoid texting Shoko about it, you flip through the contents of your closet, not finding a whole lot that screams "Party Girl". A brief idea crosses your mind of maybe this is the universe simply telling you to stay home, but a gnawing feeling in your stomach says otherwise.

Pushing the thought away, you decide to just go with a simple t-shirt and jeans paired with your faithful converse. Can't go wrong with simple right?

You click your phone on, teeth finding their way to anxiously tug at your lip as you finally text Gojo back.

"Shit." You mumble to yourself, scrambling to at least put on some mascara and brush your hair. In a surprisingly short amount of time, you hear a few raps at your door, imploring you to gather the last of your things.

Your hand wraps around the doorknob and swings it open, revealing Gojo, this time without the glasses. It feels impossible to tear your gaze from his eyes, blue eyes almost iridescent. To your dismay, he stares back, a smirk creeping up his face. "You ready, cutie?"

The taller man's remark immediately makes you pull your field of vision from him, instead rolling your eyes. "Ha ha, so funny, Satoru." You snort, stepping into the hallway of the dorm and closing your door behind you.

Out of the corner of your eye, you can see his smirk falter ever so slightly, almost completely missable. "What was funny?" He asks, trying his hardest to sound suave. You bite back the urge to roll your eyes a second time, now understanding exactly why Shoko could probably roll her eyes right out of her head hanging out with him.

"It's funny that you think that's going to work, Satoru." The reply leaves your mouth before you could totally register what you were even saying. The sentiment was meant nonetheless, but you internally cringe at how blunt your approach was.

His gaze lingers on you for a moment, you can feel his eyes burning holes in you, "Alright. This way to the party."

People littered the yard of Kappa Chi, loud music bumping from the house, abandoned red solo cups adorned the porch steps. You let Gojo step in front of you to speak to the man standing at the door.

"What's up, Megs! Enjoying bouncing for the night?" He smiles, clapping the black haired man on the back. At this point, you can only assume that's a common thing for college guys.

"You know damn well this is the last place I want to be. Fuck Itadori for being sick." He groans in response, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Happy to have you!" Gojo states, obviously being maliciously sweet. "Have a good night, Gumi!" He coos, grabbing your wrist and gently pulling you into the mix of people inside.

The music is so loud you can feel it in your bones, trying to avoid bumping into strangers as you dodge and weave behind Satoru. Eventually, the snow haired man pulls you into what looks like a living room (plus beer pong area???). You're so completely out of your element and trying to grasp your surroundings, and unluckily, Satoru takes this as the perfect time to go get drinks for you two.

Your back is pressed against the wall, just watching what looks like a hundred people talk and drunkenly dance while you wait. Someone's hand comes to wrap around your arm, which causes a small twinge of panic to wash over you, before you realize who exactly it is that grabbed you.

"Y/n! I wasn't expecting to see you here!" Suguru practically yells to be heard over the music. A grin instantly replaces the concerned expression on your face as you turn to face him.

"Holy shit, hi Suguru! Yeeeah I wasn't exactly expecting to come to a frat party my first night here honestly." You laugh, leaning into his ear to be heard.

A tipsy smile is stuck to his face, "Who'd you come with?"

Your smile falters some before returning, "Satoru invited me... For some reason."

Suguru's eyes widen slightly with surprise, glancing behind you where Satoru stood, two drinks in hand. Suguru watched him quickly eye between himself and you, obviously judging the close proximity.

You turn around, face to face with Gojo, who's jaw was clenched. "Hey, Satoru. You didn't tell me Suguru would be here!" You playfully whine at him, taking one of the cups out of his hand. His eyes move from Geto to you, softening noticeably before smiling at you.

"Yeahhhh, I figured you'd probably find him, or he'd find you, whatever." He shrugs, talking a sip from his cup, definitely trying to act nonchalant and normal.

Suguru eyes him, before giving your arm one more friendly squeeze, "I'll leave you two be, but come find me later y/n, I want you on my team for beer pong!" He laughs, disappearing into the crowd of bodies.

An automatic laugh echoes from you, and you don't notice the way Satoru's eye twitches in response to you laughing at Geto. You don't notice anything off or weird the rest of the night.

Satoru sighs, ambling into his own bed, barely tipsy anymore. He can't help the way his brain tosses the night around over and over again, watching you get increasingly more drunk.

He can't help the way his stomach twists in knots at the thought of Suguru being able to make you laugh and he can't.

He can't help the irritation that radiated from him earlier in the night when he first saw how close you were to Suguru, your lips ghosting his ear with a smile, his arm wrapped around you.

He can't help why he felt the need to intervene when Suguru hugged you tightly, lifting you off the ground, and praised you for sinking the shot that won that round of beer pong.

His hand finds his pillow and brings it to his face, groaning into it somewhat dramatically before pulling his phone off his nightstand. The phone clicks on, and he deftly navigates to his contacts, scrolling through message after message until he reaches Roster #6 - Ayaka.

[thedovesaredying]

Monsters in the Dark | Nikto x Reader | Part 3

Third chapter of the Cowboy!Nikto series. Nikto has some emotions and has no idea what they mean or how to deal with them. Original Cowboy concept based on the AU by @ghouljams

A/N: Finally got enough time to work on this chapter after weeks and weeks of hectic stress with work and university. Thank you to all of those still following along with the story, I'll hopefully have the next part out soon. Fun fact: The story of a horse getting hurt running into a fence because they were so excited to see someone is from one of the silly yearlings at uni lol.

Warnings: Minor medical proceedures, Nikto getting a little jealous.

Masterlist: CoD Masterlist

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Nikto can’t help wondering if there’s anything that can ruin your seemingly perpetual good mood. Even with your body dripping with sweat and elbow deep inside of a cow, you’re still somehow grinning brightly at the farmer standing beside you. Doing a part of your job that some would consider... unpleasant at best, you’re able to act as if it’s the most exciting thing you’ve ever done.  

One of the other farm hands, a man about your age, if a year or two older, is acting a little too interested in what you’re doing, however, and Nikto’s jaw is aching with how hard he’s grinding his teeth together. They make a soft groaning sound as they suffer under the pressure he’s subjecting them to, but unfortunately, it’s the only thing keeping him from snapping at “Darren” when the man crowds close to you with what he must think is a suave grin.  

“Alright, I can feel the cervix now,” you hum, and he can see the way your arm twists slightly within the animal, “it’s pretty easy to manoeuvre it around.” You frown to yourself, seemingly oblivious to the way that annoying brat leans a little closer, “the reproductive tract isn’t very heavy.” 

“And what’s that mean, darlin’?” Darren asks, and Nikto can’t decide what he hates more, the tone the other man is using to address you, or the way he thinks it’s okay to place a hand on your shoulder. The gelding underneath Nikto snorts, shifting uncertainly as he likely senses the tension brewing.  

“Oh,” you blink at Darren, as if only just noticing him for the first time, “normally you wouldn’t be able to move the cervix around so easily if she was carrying a calf, I’d be able to feel at least a little weight to it.” You reach a little further into the cow, taking a few moments longer before adding, “I can also feel the horns of her uterus, and there’s no fluid I can feel inside them.”  

Darren is nodding, but his gaze is far from focused on the animal or what you’re actually saying to him.  

You pull you hand slowly from the cow, removing the palpation glove and dropping it into the bin beside the cattle crush. “Looks like this girl’s open, I’m afraid,” you say, grabbing the can of cattle paint and spraying a bright green streak across the animal’s tail, “and that’s the last of the girls done.”  

Pulling the release lever, the heifer is let out of the crush and into the holding pen with the rest of the females you’ve checked for pregnancies. While most of them have little blue marks to indicate a successful insemination, a few of the younger ones weren’t lucky enough to take this time around.  

Darren looks as though he’s about to say something further (more than likely something stupid and obnoxious), but before he can do anything more than puff up his chest, Mr. Roberts is snapping at him.  

“Darren! Get your ass into the paddock, boy!” The old man has a scowl on his face that would have recruits shaking in their boots and a voice with a harsh snarl to it from years of smoking. “The hell do I bother paying you for?” he grumbles, watching as the younger man near enough trips over himself in his haste to get back to work.  

Nikto can’t help admiring the man for his no nonsense approach to his work. He’s friendly enough toward those who work for him, and when Nikto was looking for employment, took him on board with no questions asked. The elderly cowboy has made it clear that he could care less about where someone comes from, only that they can do an honest day’s hard work.  

“Well, thank you for giving us a hand with the ladies,” the old man’s tone softens drastically, and he offers you a firm handshake, “I know those big business farms have all that fancy new technology and blood tests to make checking for calves easier, but I much prefer the old method.”  

Although he would never admit it aloud, it’s rather… sweet, the way you beam at Mr. Roberts and nod along to his words. “Of course! A blood test would be useful for determining how long the baby’s been gestating for, but there’s nothing wrong with the palpation method to find out if they’re carrying anything.” 

Roberts seems pleased by your response, offering you an elusive smile, before giving you one final nod, “I’ll see you around town in a few days, and I’ll drop your payment off at the clinic.”  

There are a few final pleasantries exchanged, all of which Nikto ignores. He was supposed to be getting the horse tacked down and set out for the day. Getting distracted by you while doing your job was just an unfortunate happenstance. He urges the gelding onward with a gentle tap to the animal’s side, leaving you to the business of packing up all of your tools in peace.  

He dismounts once reaching the stable, giving the horse a firm pat on the shoulder before leading him into one of the nearest stalls. He can’t know for certain if anyone else will need Murphy before the end of the day, seeing as the horse belongs to Roberts, but the least he can do is ensure he’s comfortable until he’s turned out for the end of the day.  

While “Murphy” isn’t exactly a name that Nikto would have chosen for a horse, given it’s a little too human for his own tastes, apparently, the gelding was named after Murphy’s Law, seeing as the poor animal seems to constantly be getting into trouble. Anything that could possibly go wrong for him can and will. He’s only just recovered from a nasty gash he’d received to the front of his chest after getting a little too excited to see Nikto coming to greet him and crashing directly into a barbed wire fence.  

Nikto starts untacking Murphy, starting with the bridle and moving his way backwards. He gives the gelding a quick brushing down and picks out his hooves to ensure there’s no stones or injuries that’ve gone unnoticed. He leaves Murphy to his dinner while he works on cleaning off the bit of the bridle and applying oil where the leather has begun to dry out. It’s a difficult job with only one properly functioning arm, but he’s not about to ask for any assistance with such a mundane chore.  

When he gets back, however, he’s startled to find you standing there, stroking Murphy’s mane while the horse happily munches on a mouthful of hay. You’re cooing at the animal happily, giggling when Murphy starts trying to nibble at your shirt once running out of food.  

You turn and offer him a smile, face still a little warm from the sun outside and with several strands of your hair poking out in odd directions. He finds that the look suits you, oddly enough.  

It’s only when you call his name that he realises that you’ve been trying to speak to him and he’s just been there staring at your face like a complete idiot. He shifts his grip on the halter he’s holding and clears his throat. “What do you need?” He settles on eventually, deciding that’s the least offensive way of telling you he hasn’t heard a word spoken to him.  

Thankfully, you don’t seem to be too upset by it. “I was just asking how poor Murphy is doing, I know he had a nasty scratch recently,” you’re looking at Nikto, but your words are said in the same, high-pitched coo you tend to use whenever you’re talking to Sputnik, accompanied by a rather overdramatic frown.  

He rolls his eyes at you, but finds he isn’t entirely annoyed by the antics. “Fine. His wound has healed well,” he says while reaching over to try and guide Murphy’s head a little closer. He may not be a trained veterinarian, but Nikto has seen plenty enough injuries in his life to be able to tell when one isn’t healing well. Murphy, of course, decides not to cooperate, instead trying to press the side of his fluffy face up against you.  

Getting the halter over the horse’s head with one hand is rather awkward, especially with the way the animal insists on moving about. You reach out, and he’s about to snap at you for trying to do it for him. He’s had enough of people trying to treat him like an infant recently, as though he’s not a dangerous killer.  It was suffocating enough when it was hospital staff and physiotherapists, but even a civilian thinking he’s too incapable to perform such a simple task? 

But then, you simply grab the buckle in one hand and hold it in position for him to secure himself.  

It would be far faster and more efficient for you to take the halter and do it yourself, yet you stand patiently without comment, and wait as he pulls the strap over the horse’s head and fastens the catch in place. He’s not sure why the thought of you specifically treating him like a weak child had him prepared to lash out quite so aggressively, especially when he’s brushed off similar actions by other people with only a few choice words and a particularly icy glare.  

You return to eagerly cooing at the horse before he can force himself to offer any kind of thanks, and he quickly pushes down the uncomfortable tangle of emotions trying to crawl their way up from his stomach.  

“Are you finished for the day?” You ask after a few moments of silence. He gives you a nod and you’re quick to ask, “how’s your girl been holding up?”  

“Our girl?” he asks slowly, forehead scrunching up. Do you think he has a partner or some kind? Why would you think there’s a girl in his life? Has he done something to make you think he’s married or dating someone?  

“Sputnik,” you clarify, and his face must do something odd because you snort at his reaction. “Why, do you have another girl?” 

Nikto can’t help automatically scoffing at the question, shaking his head at the very thought, “нет, we have no one.” He sees your eyebrows raise slightly, as if surprised by that, but you quickly school your expression back into its normal, carefree smile.  

Your expression quickly turns into something playful, however, as you add, “really? A big, handsome man like you?” He’s not sure how genuine your teasing tone is, “surely you’ve got the ladies lining up.” You have this way of joking around with him and asking questions in a way that doesn’t make him want to immediately tell you to ‘fuck off’. It’s a strange feeling, and he’s not entirely sure he likes it.  

“You are just crazy,” he counters, going to cross his arms over his chest, only to realise he can’t and instead settling for just letting them rest in place. He sees your eyes travel down the length of his damaged arm, stopping at where it abruptly ends. You don't comment on it, however, and he’s annoyed by how glad he is that you don’t. You likely didn’t even notice his injury until now, given he’s been wearing his prosthetic covered by long-sleeved clothes and gloves every other time you’ve met.  

“Wow, so rude,” you grin, trying to playfully shove his shoulder, only to pout when he’s entirely unmoved by the action. He’s been called rude many times in his life, but this is the first time he’s ever found himself pleased to hear it from someone.  

The sound of the stable door opening has you pulling your attention away from him and toward Roberts, who has just entered. You give Murphy a quick pet to the side of the neck, and Nikto a final grin, offering up a brief, “I’ll see you around.” 

Roberts waves as you leave the stables, waiting for the large door to close before he turns to look at Nikto, one of his bushy eyebrows raised. “So, when’re you gonna marry that lovely girl?” The old man asks, leaning against the stall door with an upward twitch of his lips.  

Nikto near enough chokes on thin air, whirling around on the cowboy with a startled, “что?”  

The old man just sighs heavily, shaking his head, “just make sure you do it soon, yeah? We need another vet living out here on a permanent basis,” he ploughs on, “she already knows the area and she’s a lovely young lady.”  

As quickly as he arrived, Roberts wanders off again, heading back to work and leaving Nikto standing in the middle of the horse stall. He takes a long moment, just staring at where the old man had been a few moments ago while his brain slowly processes everything. Surely he wasn’t being serious, right?

-

Translations

“да,” - “Yes” 

"что?” - "What?"